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Begin Content







To the Reader.

This Figure, that thou here feest put,

It was for gentle Shakespeare cut:

Wherein the Grauer had a strife

with Naure, to out-doo the life:

O, could he but haue dravvne his vvit

As vvell in frasse, as he hath hit

Hisface; the Print vvould then surpasse

All, that vvas euer in frasse.

But, since he cannot, Reader, looke

Not on his picture, but his Booke.

B.I.

MR. William

SHAKESPEARES

Comedies,

Histories &

Tragedies,

Published according to the True Original Copies London

Printed by Ifaac Iaggard, and Ed, Bount. 1623

TO   THE   MOST   NOBLE    AND

INCOMPARABLE  PAIRE OF  BRETHREN

WILLIAM

Earle of Pembroke,&c;.  Lord Chamberlaine to the     Kings
most Excellent Majesty.

A N D

PHILIP

Earle of  Montgomery,&c;.  Gentleman of his Majesties
Bed-Chamber.  Both Knights of the most Noble Order                of
the Garter, and our singular good                             L O R D
S

Right Honourable,

Whilst we studie to be thankful in our particular, for  the many favors
we have received from your L.L. we are falne upon the ill fortune, to
mingle two the most diverse things that can bee, feare, and rashnesse;
rashnesse in the enterprize, and feare of the successe.  For, when we
valew the places your H.H. sustaine, we cannot but know their dignity
greater, then to descend to the reading of these trifles: and, while we
name them trifles, we have depriv'd our selves of the defence of our
Dedication.  But since your L.L. have beene pleas'd to thinke these
trifles some-thing, heeretofore; and have prosequuted both them, and
their Authour living, with so much favour: we hope, that (they
out-living him, and he not having the fate, common with some, to be
exequutor to his owne writings) you will use the like indulgence toward
them, you have done unto their parent. There is a great difference,
whether any Booke choose his Patrones, or finde them: This hath done
both.  For, so much were your L.L. likings of the severall parts, when
they were acted, as before they were published, the Volume ask'd to be
yours.  We have but collected them, and done an office to the dead, to
procure his Orphanes, Guardians; without ambition either of
selfe-profit, or fame: onely to keepe the memory of so worthy a Friend,
& Fellow alive, as was our S H A K E S P E A R E , by humble offer of
his playes, to your most noble patronage.  Wherein, as we have justly
observed, no man to come neere your L.L. but with a kind of religious
addresse; it hath bin the height of our care, who are the Presenters,
to make the present worthy of your H.H. by the perfection.  But, there
we must also crave our abilities to be considerd, my Lords.  We cannot
go beyond our owne powers.  Country hands reach foorth milke, creame,
fruites, or what they have : and many Nations (we have heard) that had
not gummes & incense, obtained their requests with a leavened Cake.  It
was no fault to approach their Gods, by what meanes they could:  And
the most, though meanest, of thins are made more precious, when they
are dedicated to Temples.  In that name therefore, we most humbly
consecrate to your H.H. these remaines of your servant Shakespeare;
that what delight is in them, may be ever your L.L. the reputation his,
& the faults ours, if any be committed, by a payre so carefull to shew
their gratitude both to the living, and the dead, as is.

Your Lordshippes most bounden,

JOHN  HEMINGE.

HENRY  CONDELL.

To the great Variety of Readers.

From the most able, to him that can but spell : There you are number'd.
We had rather you were weighd.  Especially, when the fate of all
Bookes depends upon your capacities  :  and not of your heads alone,
but of your purses.  Well !  It is now publique, & you wil stand for
your priviledges wee know  :  to read, and censure. Do so, but buy it
first.  That doth best commend a Booke, the Stationer saies.  Then, how
odde soever your braines be, or your wisedomes, make your licence the
same, and spare not.  Judge your six-pen'orth, your shillings worth,
your five shillings worth at a time, or higher, so you rise to the just
rates, and welcome.  But, whatever you do, Buy.  Censure will not drive
a Trade, or make the Jacke go.  And though you be a Magistrate of wit,
and sit on the Stage at Black-Friers, or the Cock-pit, to arraigne
Playes dailie, know, these Playes have had their triall alreadie, and
stood out all Appeales ; and do now come forth quitted rather by a
Decree of Court, then any purchas'd Letters of commendation.

It had bene a thing, we confesse, worthie to have bene wished, that the
Author himselfe had liv'd to have set forth, and overseen his owne
writings ; But since it hath bin ordain'd otherwise, and he by death
departed from that right, we pray you do not envie his Friends, the
office of their care, and paine, to have collected & publish'd them;
and so to have publish'd them, as where (before) you were abus'd with
diverse stolne, and surreptitious copies, maimed, and deformed by the
frauds and stealthes of injurious impostors, that expos'd them : even
those, are now offer'd to your view cur'd, and perfect of their limbes;
and all the rest, absolute in their numbers, as he conceived the'. Who,
as he was a happie imitator of Nature, was a most gentle expresser of
it.  His mind and hand went together: And what he thought, he uttered
with that easinesse, that wee have scarse received from him a blot in
his papers.  But it is not our province, who onely gather his works,
and give them you, to praise him.  It is yours that reade him. And
there we hope, to your divers capacities, you will finde enough, both
to draw, and hold you : for his wit can no more lie hid, then it could
be lost.  Reade him, therefore; and againe, and againe : And if then
you doe not like him, surely you are in some manifest danger, not to
understand him.  And so we leave you to other of his Friends, whom if
you need, can bee your guides : if you neede them not, you can leade
your selves, and others.  And such Readers we wish him.

John Heminge.

Henrie Condell.

A CATALOGVE

of the Seuerall Comedies, Historie, and Tragedies
contained in this Volume

COMEDIES.

The Tempest.

The Two Gentlemen of Verona.

The Merry Wives of Windsor.

Measure for Measure.

The Comedy of Errours.

Much adoo about Nothing

Loves Labour lost.

Midsommer Nights Dreame.

The Merchant of Venice.

As you Like it.

The Taming of the Shrew.

All is well, that Ends well.

Twelfe-Night, or what you will.

The Winters Tale.

HISTORIES.

The Life and Death of King John.

The Life & death of Richard the second.

The First part of King Henry the fourth.

The Second part of K. Henry the fourth.

The Life of King Henry the Fift.

The First part of King Henry the Sixt.

The Second part of King Hen. the Sixt.

The Third part of King Henry the Sixt.

The Life and Death of Richard the Third

The Life of King Henry the Eight.

TRAGEDIES.

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

Titus Andronicus.

Romeo and Juliet.

Timon of Athens.

The Life and death of Julius Caesar.

The Tragedy of Macbeth.

The Tragedy of Hamlet.

King Lear.

Othello, the Moore of Venice.

Anthony and Cleopater.

Cymbeline King of Britaine.

To the memory of my beloved,     The Author

MR. W I L L I A   M S H A K E S P E A R E :              A N
D

what he hath left us.

To draw no envy (Shakespeare) on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy
Booke, and Fame;

While I confesse thy writings to be such, As neither Man, nor Muse, can
praise too much. 'Tis true, and all men's suffrage.  But these wayes
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise; For seeliest Ignorance on
these may light, Which, when it sounds at best, but eccho's right; Or
blinde Affection, which doth ne're advance The truth, but gropes, and
urgeth all by chance; Or crafty Malice, might pretend this praise, And
thine to ruine, where it seem'd to raise. These are, as some infamous
Baud, or Whore, Should praise a Matron.  What could hurt her more? But
thou art proofe against them, and indeed Above th' ill fortune of them,
or the need. I, therefore will begin.  Soule of the Age ! The applause
! delight ! the wonder of our Stage ! My Shakespeare, rise; I will not
lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lye

A little further, to make thee a roome :

Thou art a Moniment, without a tombe,

And art alive still, while thy Booke doth live, And we have wits to
read, and praise to give. That I not mixe thee so, my braine excuses ;
I meane with great, but disproportion'd Muses : For, if I thought my
judgement were of yeeres, I should commit thee surely with thy peeres,
And tell, how farre thou dist our Lily out-shine, Or sporting Kid or
Marlowes mighty line.

And though thou hadst small Latine, and lesse Greeke, From thence to
honour thee, I would not seeke For names; but call forth thund'ring
schilus, Euripides, and Sophocles to vs,

Paccuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead,

To life againe, to heare thy Buskin tread, And shake a stage : Or, when
thy sockes were on, Leave thee alone, for the comparison

Of all, that insolent Greece, or haughtie Rome Sent forth, or since did
from their ashes come. Triumph, my Britaine, thou hast one to showe, To
whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.

He was not of an age, but for all time !

And all the Muses still were in their prime, When like Apollo he came
forth to warme

Our eares, or like a Mercury to charme !

Nature her selfe was proud of his designes, And joy'd to weare the
dressing of his lines ! Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
As, since, she will vouchsafe no other Wit. The merry Greeke, tart
Aristophanes,

Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not

please;But antiquated, and deserted lye

As they were not of Natures family.

Yet must I not give Nature all: Thy Art,

My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part; For though the Poets matter,
Nature be,

His Art doth give the fashion.  And, that he, Who casts to write a
living line, must sweat, (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
Upon the Muses anvile : turne the same,

(And himselfe with it) that he thinkes to frame; Or for the lawrell, he
may gaine a scorne, For a good Poet's made, as well as borne. And such
wert thou.  Looke how the fathers face Lives in his issue, even so, the
race

Of Shakespeares minde, and manners brightly shines In his well toned,
and true-filed lines : In each of which, he seemes to shake a Lance, As
brandish't at the eyes of Ignorance.

Sweet swan of Avon!  what a fight it were To see thee in our waters yet
appeare,

And make those flights upon the bankes of Thames, That so did take
Eliza, and our James !

But stay, I see thee in the Hemisphere

Advanc'd, and made a Constellation there ! Shine forth, thou Starre of
Poets, and with rage, Or influence, chide, or cheere the drooping
Stage; Which, since thy flight fro' hence, hath mourn'd like night, And
despaires day, but for thy Volumes light.

B E N:  J O N S O N.



Upon the Lines and Life of the Famous Scenicke Poet,
Master  W I L L I A M                       S H A K E S P E A R E

Those hands, which you so clapt, go now, and wring You Britaines brave;
for done are Shakespeares dayes : His dayes are done, that made the
dainty Playes, Which made the Globe of heav'n and earth to ring. Dry'de
is that veine, dry'd is the Thespian Spring, Turn'd all to teares, and
Phoebus clouds his rayes : That corp's, that coffin now besticke those
bayes, Which crown'd him Poet first, then Poets King. If Tragedies
might any Prologue have,

All those he made, would scarse make a one to this : Where Fame, now
that he gone is to the grave (Deaths publique tyring-house) the Nuncius
is, For though his line of life went soone about, The life yet of his
lines shall never out.

H U G H   H O L L A N D.

TO THE MEMORIE

of the deceased Authour Maister                     W.
S H A K E S P E A R E.

Shake-speare, at length thy pious fellowes give The world thy Workes :
thy Workes, by which, out-live Thy Tombe, thy name must when that stone
is rent, And Time dissolves thy Stratford Moniment, Here we alive shall
view thee still.  This Booke, When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make
thee looke Fresh to all Ages: when Posteritie

Shall loath what's new, thinke all is prodegie That is not
Shake-speares; ev'ry Line, each Verse Here shall revive, redeeme thee
from thy Herse. Nor Fire, nor cankring Age, as Naso said, Of his, thy
wit-fraught Booke shall once invade. Nor shall I e're beleeve, or
thinke thee dead. (Though mist) untill our bankrout Stage be sped
(Imposible) with some new straine t'out-do Passions of Juliet, and her
Romeo ;

Or till I heare a Scene more nobly take,

Then when thy half-Sword parlying Romans spake. Till these, till any of
thy Volumes rest

Shall with more fire, more feeling be exprest, Be sure, our
Shake-speare, thou canst never dye, But crown'd with Lawrell, live
eternally.

L.   Digges.

To the memorie of M.W.Shakes-speare.

WEE wondred (Shake-speare) that thou went'st so soone From the
Worlds-Stage, to the Graves-Tyring-roome. Wee thought thee dead, but
this thy printed worth, Tels thy Spectators, that thou went'st but
forth To enter with applause.  An Actors Art,

Can dye, and live, to acte a second part. That's but an Exit of
Mortalitie;

This, a Re-entrance to a Plaudite.

J.   M.

The Workes of William Shakespeare, containing all his
Comedies, Histories, and       Tragedies: Truely set forth, according
to their first                         O R I G I N A L L

The Names of the Principall Actorsin all these Playes.

William Shakespeare.

Richard Burbadge.

John Hemmings.

Augustine Phillips.

William Kempt.

Thomas Poope.

George Bryan.

Henry Condell.

William Slye.

Richard Cowly.

John Lowine.

Samuell Crosse.

Alexander Cooke.

Samuel Gilburne.

Robert Armin.

William Ostler.

Nathan Field.

John Underwood.

Nicholas Tooley.

William Ecclestone.

Joseph Taylor.

Robert Benfield.

Robert Goughe.

Richard Robinson.

John Shancke.

John Rice.

The Tempest

Actus primus, Scena prima.

A tempestuous noise of Thunder and Lightning heard: Enter a
Ship-master,

and a Boteswaine.

Master. Bote-swaine.

Botes. Heere Master: What cheere?

Mast. Good: Speake to th' Mariners: fall too't, yarely, or we run our
selues a ground, bestirre, bestirre.

Enter.

Enter Mariners.

Botes. Heigh my hearts, cheerely, cheerely my harts: yare, yare: Take
in the toppe-sale: Tend to th' Masters whistle: Blow till thou burst
thy winde, if roome enough.

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Ferdinando, Gonzalo, and others.

Alon. Good Boteswaine haue care: where's the Master? Play the men.

Botes. I pray now keepe below.

Anth. Where is the Master, Boson?

Botes. Do you not heare him? you marre our labour, Keepe your
Cabines: you do assist the storme.

Gonz. Nay, good be patient.

Botes. When the Sea is: hence, what cares these roarers for the name
of King? to Cabine; silence: trouble vs not.

Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboord.

Botes. None that I more loue then my selfe. You are a Counsellor, if
you can command these Elements to silence, and worke the peace of the
present, wee will not hand a rope more, vse your authoritie: If you
cannot, giue thankes you haue liu'd so long, and make your selfe readie
in your Cabine for the mischance of the houre, if it so hap. Cheerely
good hearts: out of our way I say.

Enter.

Gon. I haue great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no
drowning marke vpon him, his complexion is perfect Gallowes: stand fast
good Fate to his hanging, make the rope of his destiny our cable, for
our owne doth little aduantage: If he be not borne to bee hang'd, our
case is miserable.

Enter.

Enter Boteswaine

Botes. Downe with the top-Mast: yare, lower, lower, bring her to Try
with Maine-course. A plague -

A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio & Gonzalo.

vpon this howling: they are lowder then the weather, or our office: yet
againe? What do you heere? Shal we giue ore and drowne, haue you a
minde to sinke?

Sebas. A poxe o'your throat, you bawling, blasphemous incharitable
Dog.

Botes. Worke you then.

Anth. Hang cur, hang, you whoreson insolent Noyse-maker, we are lesse
afraid to be drownde, then thou art.

Gonz. I'le warrant him for drowning, though the Ship were no stronger
then a Nutt-shell, and as leaky as an vnstanched wench.

Botes. Lay her a hold, a hold, set her two courses off to Sea againe,
lay her off.

Enter Mariners wet.

Mari. All lost, to prayers, to prayers, all lost.

Botes. What must our mouths be cold?

Gonz. The King, and Prince, at prayers, let's assist them, for our
case is as theirs

Sebas. I'am out of patience

An. We are meerly cheated of our liues by drunkards, This
wide-chopt-rascall, would thou mightst lye drowning the washing of ten
Tides

Gonz. Hee'l be hang'd yet,

Though euery drop of water sweare against it, And gape at widst to glut
him.

A confused noyse within.

Mercy on vs.

We split, we split, Farewell my wife, and children, Farewell brother:
we split, we split, we split

Anth. Let's all sinke with' King

Seb. Let's take leaue of him.

Enter.

Gonz. Now would I giue a thousand furlongs of Sea, for an Acre of
barren ground: Long heath, Browne firrs, any thing; the wills aboue be
done, but I would faine dye a dry death.

Enter.



Scena Secunda.



Enter Prospero and Miranda.

Mira. If by your Art (my deerest father) you haue Put the wild waters
in this Rore; alay them: The skye it seemes would powre down stinking
pitch, But that the Sea, mounting to th' welkins cheeke, Dashes the
fire out. Oh! I haue suffered

With those that I saw suffer: A braue vessell (Who had no doubt some
noble creature in her) Dash'd all to peeces: O the cry did knocke
Against my very heart: poore soules, they perish'd. Had I byn any God
of power, I would

Haue suncke the Sea within the Earth, or ere It should the good Ship so
haue swallow'd, and The fraughting Soules within her

Pros. Be collected,

No more amazement: Tell your pitteous heart there's no harme done

Mira. O woe, the day

Pros. No harme:

I haue done nothing, but in care of thee

(Of thee my deere one; thee my daughter) who Art ignorant of what thou
art. naught knowing Of whence I am: nor that I am more better Then
Prospero, Master of a full poore cell, And thy no greater Father

Mira. More to know

Did neuer medle with my thoughts

Pros. 'Tis time

I should informe thee farther: Lend thy hand And plucke my Magick
garment from me: So, Lye there my Art: wipe thou thine eyes, haue
comfort, The direfull spectacle of the wracke which touch'd The very
vertue of compassion in thee:

I haue with such prouision in mine Art

So safely ordered, that there is no soule No not so much perdition as
an hayre

Betid to any creature in the vessell

Which thou heardst cry, which thou saw'st sinke: Sit downe, For thou
must now know farther

Mira. You haue often

Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt

And left me to a bootelesse Inquisition,

Concluding, stay: not yet

Pros. The howr's now come

The very minute byds thee ope thine eare, Obey, and be attentiue. Canst
thou remember A time before we came vnto this Cell?

I doe not thinke thou canst, for then thou was't not Out three yeeres
old

Mira. Certainely Sir, I can

Pros. By what? by any other house, or person? Of any thing the
Image, tell me, that

Hath kept with thy remembrance

Mira. 'Tis farre off:

And rather like a dreame, then an assurance That my remembrance
warrants: Had I not

Fowre, or fiue women once, that tended me?

Pros. Thou hadst; and more Miranda: But how is it That this liues in
thy minde? What seest thou els In the dark-backward and Abisme of
Time?

Yf thou remembrest ought ere thou cam'st here, How thou cam'st here
thou maist

Mira. But that I doe not

Pros. Twelue yere since (Miranda) twelue yere since, Thy father was
the Duke of Millaine and

A Prince of power:

Mira. Sir, are not you my Father?

Pros. Thy Mother was a peece of vertue, and She said thou wast my
daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Millaine, and his onely heire, And
Princesse; no worse Issued

Mira. O the heauens,

What fowle play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessed was't we
did?

Pros. Both, both my Girle.

By fowle-play (as thou saist) were we heau'd thence, But blessedly
holpe hither

Mira. O my heart bleedes

To thinke oth' teene that I haue turn'd you to, Which is from my
remembrance, please you, farther;

Pros. My brother and thy vncle, call'd Anthonio: I pray thee marke
me, that a brother should Be so perfidious: he, whom next thy selfe Of
all the world I lou'd, and to him put

The mannage of my state, as at that time

Through all the signories it was the first, And Prospero, the prime
Duke, being so reputed In dignity; and for the liberall Artes,

Without a paralell; those being all my studie, The Gouernment I cast
vpon my brother,

And to my State grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret
studies, thy false vncle (Do'st thou attend me?)

Mira. Sir, most heedefully

Pros. Being once perfected how to graunt suites, how to deny them:
who t' aduance, and who To trash for ouer-topping; new created

The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em, Or els new form'd
'em; hauing both the key, Of Officer, and office, set all hearts i'th
state To what tune pleas'd his eare, that now he was The Iuy which had
hid my princely Trunck, And suckt my verdure out on't: Thou attend'st
not?

Mira. O good Sir, I doe

Pros. I pray thee marke me:

I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closenes, and the
bettering of my mind with that, which but by being so retir'd

Ore-priz'd all popular rate: in my false brother Awak'd an euill
nature, and my trust

Like a good parent, did beget of him

A falsehood in it's contrarie, as great

As my trust was, which had indeede no limit, A confidence sans bound.
He being thus Lorded, Not onely with what my reuenew yeelded,

But what my power might els exact. Like one Who hauing into truth, by
telling of it,

Made such a synner of his memorie

To credite his owne lie, he did beleeue

He was indeed the Duke, out o'th' Substitution And executing th'
outward face of Roialtie With all prerogatiue: hence his Ambition
growing: Do'st thou heare ?

Mira. Your tale, Sir, would cure deafenesse

Pros. To haue no Schreene between this part he plaid, And him he
plaid it for, he needes will be Absolute Millaine, Me (poore man) my
Librarie Was Dukedome large enough: of temporall roalties He thinks me
now incapable. Confederates

(so drie he was for Sway) with King of Naples To giue him Annuall
tribute, doe him homage Subiect his Coronet, to his Crowne and bend The
Dukedom yet vnbow'd (alas poore Millaine) To most ignoble stooping

Mira. Oh the heauens:

Pros. Marke his condition, and th' euent, then tell me If this might
be a brother

Mira. I should sinne

To thinke but Noblie of my Grand-mother,

Good wombes haue borne bad sonnes

Pro. Now the Condition.

This King of Naples being an Enemy

To me inueterate, hearkens my Brothers suit, Which was, That he in lieu
o'th' premises, Of homage, and I know not how much Tribute, Should
presently extirpate me and mine

Out of the Dukedome, and confer faire Millaine With all the Honors, on
my brother: Whereon A treacherous Armie leuied, one mid-night Fated to
th' purpose, did Anthonio open

The gates of Millaine, and ith' dead of darkenesse The ministers for
th' purpose hurried thence Me, and thy crying selfe

Mir. Alack, for pitty:

I not remembring how I cride out then

Will cry it ore againe: it is a hint

That wrings mine eyes too't

Pro. Heare a little further,

And then I'le bring thee to the present businesse Which now's vpon's:
without the which, this Story Were most impertinent

Mir. Wherefore did they not

That howre destroy vs?

Pro. Well demanded, wench:

My Tale prouokes that question: Deare, they durst not, So deare the
loue my people bore me: nor set A marke so bloudy on the businesse;
but

With colours fairer, painted their foule ends. In few, they hurried vs
aboord a Barke,

Bore vs some Leagues to Sea, where they prepared A rotten carkasse of a
Butt, not rigg'd,

Nor tackle, sayle, nor mast, the very rats Instinctiuely haue quit it:
There they hoyst vs To cry to th' Sea, that roard to vs; to sigh To th'
windes, whose pitty sighing backe againe Did vs but louing wrong

Mir. Alack, what trouble

Was I then to you?

Pro. O, a Cherubin

Thou was't that did preserue me; Thou didst smile, Infused with a
fortitude from heauen,

When I haue deck'd the sea with drops full salt, Vnder my burthen
groan'd, which rais'd in me An vndergoing stomacke, to beare vp

Against what should ensue

Mir. How came we a shore?

Pro. By prouidence diuine,

Some food, we had, and some fresh water, that A noble Neopolitan
Gonzalo

Out of his Charity, (who being then appointed Master of this designe)
did giue vs, with Rich garments, linnens, stuffs, and necessaries Which
since haue steeded much, so of his gentlenesse Knowing I lou'd my
bookes, he furnishd me From mine owne Library, with volumes, that I
prize aboue my Dukedome

Mir. Would I might

But euer see that man

Pro. Now I arise,

Sit still, and heare the last of our sea-sorrow: Heere in this Iland we
arriu'd, and heere Haue I, thy Schoolemaster, made thee more profit
Then other Princesse can, that haue more time For vainer howres; and
Tutors, not so carefull

Mir. Heuens thank you for't. And now I pray you Sir, For still 'tis
beating in my minde; your reason For raysing this Sea-storme?

Pro. Know thus far forth,

By accident most strange, bountifull Fortune (Now my deere Lady) hath
mine enemies

Brought to this shore: And by my prescience I finde my Zenith doth
depend vpon

A most auspitious starre, whose influence If now I court not, but omit;
my fortunes Will euer after droope: Heare cease more questions, Thou
art inclinde to sleepe: 'tis a good dulnesse, And giue it way: I know
thou canst not chuse: Come away, Seruant, come; I am ready now,
Approach my Ariel. Come.

Enter Ariel.

Ari. All haile, great Master, graue Sir, haile: I come To answer thy
best pleasure; be't to fly, To swim, to diue into the fire: to ride

On the curld clowds: to thy strong bidding, taske Ariel, and all his
Qualitie

Pro. Hast thou, Spirit,

Performd to point, the Tempest that I bad thee

Ar. To euery Article.

I boorded the Kings ship: now on the Beake, Now in the Waste, the
Decke, in euery Cabyn, I flam'd amazement, sometime I'ld diuide

And burne in many places; on the Top-mast, The Yards and Bore-spritt,
would I flame distinctly, Then meete, and ioyne. Ioues Lightning, the
precursers O'th dreadfull Thunder-claps more momentarie And sight
out-running were not; the fire, and cracks Of sulphurous roaring, the
most mighty Neptune Seeme to besiege, and make his bold waues tremble,
Yea, his dread Trident shake

Pro. My braue Spirit,

Who was so firme, so constant, that this coyle Would not infect his
reason?

Ar. Not a soule

But felt a Feauer of the madde, and plaid Some tricks of desperation;
all but Mariners Plung'd in the foaming bryne, and quit the vessell;
Then all a fire with me the Kings sonne Ferdinand With haire vp-staring
(then like reeds, not haire) Was the first man that leapt; cride hell
is empty, And all the Diuels are heere

Pro. Why that's my spirit:

But was not this nye shore?

Ar. Close by, my Master

Pro. But are they (Ariell) safe?

Ar. Not a haire perishd:

On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher then before:
and as thou badst me, In troops I haue dispersd them 'bout the Isle:
The Kings sonne haue I landed by himselfe, Whom I left cooling of the
Ayre with sighes, In an odde Angle of the Isle, and sitting His armes
in this sad knot

Pro. Of the Kings ship,

The Marriners, say how thou hast disposd, And all the rest o'th'
Fleete?

Ar. Safely in harbour

Is the Kings shippe, in the deepe Nooke, where once Thou calldst me vp
at midnight to fetch dewe From the still-vext Bermoothes, there she's
hid; The Marriners all vnder hatches stowed,

Who, with a Charme ioynd to their suffred labour I haue left asleep:
and for the rest o'th' Fleet (Which I dispers'd) they all haue met
againe, And are vpon the Mediterranian Flote

Bound sadly home for Naples,

Supposing that they saw the Kings ship wrackt, And his great person
perish

Pro. Ariel, thy charge

Exactly is perform'd; but there's more worke: What is the time o'th'
day?

Ar. Past the mid season

Pro. At least two Glasses: the time 'twixt six & now Must by vs
both be spent most preciously

Ar. Is there more toyle? Since y dost giue me pains, Let me
remember thee what thou hast promis'd, Which is not yet perform'd me

Pro. How now? moodie?

What is't thou canst demand?

Ar. My Libertie

Pro. Before the time be out? no more:

Ar. I prethee,

Remember I haue done thee worthy seruice, Told thee no lyes, made thee
no mistakings, serv'd Without or grudge, or grumblings; thou did
promise To bate me a full yeere

Pro. Do'st thou forget

From what a torment I did free thee?

Ar. No

Pro. Thou do'st: & thinkst it much to tread y Ooze Of the salt
deepe;

To run vpon the sharpe winde of the North, To doe me businesse in the
veines o'th' earth When it is bak'd with frost

Ar. I doe not Sir

Pro. Thou liest, malignant Thing: hast thou forgot The fowle Witch
Sycorax, who with Age and Enuy Was growne into a hoope? hast thou
forgot her?

Ar. No Sir

Pro. Thou hast: where was she born? speak: tell me:

Ar. Sir, in Argier

Pro. Oh, was she so: I must

Once in a moneth recount what thou hast bin, Which thou forgetst. This
damn'd Witch Sycorax For mischiefes manifold, and sorceries terrible To
enter humane hearing, from Argier

Thou know'st was banish'd: for one thing she did They wold not take her
life: Is not this true?

Ar. I, Sir

Pro. This blew ey'd hag, was hither brought with child, And here was
left by th' Saylors; thou my slaue, As thou reportst thy selfe, was
then her seruant, And for thou wast a Spirit too delicate

To act her earthy, and abhord commands,

Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee By helpe of her more
potent Ministers,

And in her most vnmittigable rage,

Into a clouen Pyne, within which rift

Imprison'd, thou didst painefully remaine A dozen yeeres: within which
space she di'd, And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groanes
As fast as Mill-wheeles strike: Then was this Island (Saue for the Son,
that he did littour heere, A frekelld whelpe, hag-borne) not honour'd
with A humane shape

Ar. Yes: Caliban her sonne

Pro. Dull thing, I say so: he, that Caliban Whom now I keepe in
seruice, thou best know'st What torment I did finde thee in; thy grones
Did make wolues howle, and penetrate the breasts Of euer-angry Beares;
it was a torment

To lay vpon the damn'd, which Sycorax

Could not againe vndoe: it was mine Art,

When I arriu'd, and heard thee, that made gape The Pyne, and let thee
out

Ar. I thanke thee Master

Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an Oake And peg-thee in his
knotty entrailes, till Thou hast howl'd away twelue winters

Ar. Pardon, Master,

I will be correspondent to command

And doe my spryting, gently

Pro. Doe so: and after two daies

I will discharge thee

Ar. That's my noble Master:

What shall I doe? say what? what shall I doe?

Pro. Goe make thy selfe like a Nymph o'th' Sea, Be subiect to no
sight but thine, and mine: inuisible To euery eye-ball else: goe take
this shape And hither come in't: goe: hence

With diligence.

Enter.

Pro. Awake, deere hart awake, thou hast slept well, Awake

Mir. The strangenes of your story, put Heauinesse in me

Pro. Shake it off: Come on,

Wee'll visit Caliban, my slaue, who neuer Yeelds vs kinde answere

Mir. 'Tis a villaine Sir, I doe not loue to looke on

Pro. But as 'tis

We cannot misse him: he do's make our fire, Fetch in our wood, and
serues in Offices

That profit vs: What hoa: slaue: Caliban: Thou Earth, thou: speake

Cal. within. There's wood enough within

Pro. Come forth I say, there's other busines for thee: Come thou
Tortoys, when?

Enter Ariel like a water Nymph.

Fine apparision: my queint Ariel,

Hearke in thine eare

Ar. My Lord, it shall be done.

Enter.

Pro. Thou poysonous slaue, got by y diuell himselfe Vpon thy wicked
Dam; come forth.



Enter Caliban.

Cal. As wicked dewe, as ere my mother brush'd With Rauens feather
from vnwholesome Fen

Drop on you both: A Southwest blow on yee, And blister you all ore

Pro. For this be sure, to night thou shalt haue cramps,
Side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath vp, Vrchins Shall for that
vast of night, that they may worke All exercise on thee: thou shalt be
pinch'd As thicke as hony-combe, each pinch more stinging Then Bees
that made 'em

Cal. I must eat my dinner:

This Island's mine by Sycorax my mother,

Which thou tak'st from me: when thou cam'st first Thou stroakst me, &
made much of me: wouldst giue me Water with berries in't: and teach me
how To name the bigger Light, and how the lesse That burne by day, and
night: and then I lou'd thee And shew'd thee all the qualities o'th'
Isle, The fresh Springs, Brine-pits; barren place and fertill, Curs'd
be I that did so: All the Charmes

Of Sycorax: Toades, Beetles, Batts light on you: For I am all the
Subiects that you haue,

Which first was min owne King: and here you sty-me In this hard Rocke,
whiles you doe keepe from me The rest o'th' Island

Pro. Thou most lying slaue,

Whom stripes may moue, not kindnes: I haue vs'd thee (Filth as thou
art) with humane care, and lodg'd thee In mine owne Cell, till thou
didst seeke to violate The honor of my childe

Cal. Oh ho, oh ho, would't had bene done: Thou didst preuent me, I
had peopel'd else This Isle with Calibans

Mira. Abhorred Slaue,

Which any print of goodnesse wilt not take, Being capable of all ill: I
pittied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each houre One
thing or other: when thou didst not (Sauage) Know thine owne meaning;
but wouldst gabble, like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them knowne: But thy vild race (Tho thou didst
learn) had that in't, which good natures Could not abide to be with;
therefore wast thou Deseruedly confin'd into this Rocke, who hadst
Deseru'd more then a prison

Cal. You taught me Language, and my profit on't Is, I know how to
curse: the red-plague rid you For learning me your language

Pros. Hag-seed, hence:

Fetch vs in Fewell, and be quicke thou'rt best To answer other
businesse: shrug'st thou (Malice) If thou neglectst, or dost
vnwillingly

What I command, Ile racke thee with old Crampes, Fill all thy bones
with Aches, make thee rore, That beasts shall tremble at thy dyn

Cal. No, 'pray thee.

I must obey, his Art is of such pow'r,

It would controll my Dams god Setebos,

And make a vassaile of him

Pro. So slaue, hence.

Exit Cal.

Enter Ferdinand & Ariel, inuisible playing & singing.

Ariel Song. Come vnto these yellow sands, and then take hands:

Curtsied when you haue, and kist the wilde waues whist: Foote it featly
heere, and there, and sweete Sprights beare the burthen.

Burthen dispersedly.

Harke, harke, bowgh wawgh: the watch-Dogges barke, bowgh-wawgh

Ar. Hark, hark, I heare, the straine of strutting Chanticlere cry
cockadidle-dowe

Fer. Where shold this Musick be? I'th aire, or th' earth? It sounds
no more: and sure it waytes vpon Some God o'th' Iland, sitting on a
banke, Weeping againe the King my Fathers wracke. This Musicke crept by
me vpon the waters, Allaying both their fury, and my passion

With it's sweet ayre: thence I haue follow'd it (Or it hath drawne me
rather) but 'tis gone. No, it begins againe

Ariell Song. Full fadom fiue thy Father lies, Of his bones are
Corrall made:

Those are pearles that were his eies,

Nothing of him that doth fade,

But doth suffer a Sea-change

Into something rich, & strange:

Sea-Nimphs hourly ring his knell.

Burthen: ding dong.

Harke now I heare them, ding-dong bell

Fer. The Ditty do's remember my drown'd father, This is no mortall
busines, nor no sound

That the earth owes: I heare it now aboue me

Pro. The fringed Curtaines of thine eye aduance, And say what thou
see'st yond

Mira. What is't a Spirit?

Lord, how it lookes about: Beleeue me sir, It carries a braue forme.
But 'tis a spirit

Pro. No wench, it eats, and sleeps, & hath such senses As we haue:
such. This Gallant which thou seest Was in the wracke: and but hee's
something stain'd With greefe (that's beauties canker) y might'st call
him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellowes, And strayes about to
finde 'em

Mir. I might call him

A thing diuine, for nothing naturall

I euer saw so Noble

Pro. It goes on I see

As my soule prompts it: Spirit, fine spirit, Ile free thee Within two
dayes for this

Fer. Most sure the Goddesse

On whom these ayres attend: Vouchsafe my pray'r May know if you remaine
vpon this Island, And that you will some good instruction giue How I
may beare me heere: my prime request (Which I do last pronounce) is (O
you wonder) If you be Mayd, or no?

Mir. No wonder Sir,

But certainly a Mayd

Fer. My Language? Heauens:

I am the best of them that speake this speech, Were I but where 'tis
spoken

Pro. How? the best?

What wer't thou if the King of Naples heard thee?

Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To heare thee speake
of Naples: he do's heare me, And that he do's, I weepe: my selfe am
Naples, Who, with mine eyes (neuer since at ebbe) beheld The King my
Father wrack't

Mir. Alacke, for mercy

Fer. Yes faith, & all his Lords, the Duke of Millaine And his braue
sonne, being twaine

Pro. The Duke of Millaine

And his more brauer daughter, could controll thee If now 'twere fit to
do't: At the first sight They haue chang'd eyes: Delicate Ariel,

Ile set thee free for this. A word good Sir, I feare you haue done your
selfe some wrong: A word

Mir. Why speakes my father so vngently? This Is the third man that
ere I saw: the first That ere I sigh'd for: pitty moue my father To be
enclin'd my way

Fer. O, if a Virgin,

And your affection not gone forth, Ile make you The Queene of Naples

Pro. Soft sir, one word more.

They are both in eythers pow'rs: But this swift busines I must vneasie
make, least too light winning Make the prize light. One word more: I
charge thee That thou attend me: Thou do'st heere vsurpe The name thou
ow'st not, and hast put thy selfe Vpon this Island, as a spy, to win
it

From me, the Lord on't

Fer. No, as I am a man

Mir. Ther's nothing ill, can dwell in such a Temple, If the
ill-spirit haue so fayre a house,

Good things will striue to dwell with't

Pro. Follow me

Pros. Speake not you for him: hee's a Traitor: come, Ile manacle thy
necke and feete together: Sea water shalt thou drinke: thy food shall
be The fresh-brooke Mussels, wither'd roots, and huskes Wherein the
Acorne cradled. Follow

Fer. No,

I will resist such entertainment, till

Mine enemy ha's more pow'r.

He drawes, and is charmed from mouing.

Mira. O deere Father,

Make not too rash a triall of him, for

Hee's gentle, and not fearfull

Pros. What I say,

My foote my Tutor? Put thy sword vp Traitor, Who mak'st a shew, but
dar'st not strike: thy conscience Is so possest with guilt: Come, from
thy ward, For I can heere disarme thee with this sticke, And make thy
weapon drop

Mira. Beseech you Father

Pros. Hence: hang not on my garments

Mira. Sir haue pity,

Ile be his surety

Pros. Silence: One word more

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: What, An aduocate for an
Impostor? Hush:

Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, (Hauing seene but him
and Caliban:) Foolish wench, To th' most of men, this is a Caliban,

And they to him are Angels

Mira. My affections

Are then most humble: I haue no ambition

To see a goodlier man

Pros. Come on, obey:

Thy Nerues are in their infancy againe.

And haue no vigour in them

Fer. So they are:

My spirits, as in a dreame, are all bound vp: My Fathers losse, the
weaknesse which I feele, The wracke of all my friends, nor this mans
threats, To whom I am subdude, are but light to me, Might I but through
my prison once a day

Behold this Mayd: all corners else o'th' Earth Let liberty make vse of:
space enough

Haue I in such a prison

Pros. It workes: Come on.

Thou hast done well, fine Ariell: follow me, Harke what thou else shalt
do mee

Mira. Be of comfort,

My Fathers of a better nature (Sir)

Then he appeares by speech: this is vnwonted Which now came from him

Pros. Thou shalt be as free

As mountaine windes; but then exactly do

All points of my command

Ariell. To th' syllable

Pros. Come follow: speake not for him.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and

others.

Gonz. Beseech you Sir, be merry; you haue cause, (So haue we all) of
ioy; for our escape

Is much beyond our losse; our hint of woe Is common, euery day, some
Saylors wife,

The Masters of some Merchant, and the Merchant Haue iust our Theame of
woe: But for the miracle, (I meane our preseruation) few in millions
Can speake like vs: then wisely (good Sir) weigh Our sorrow, with our
comfort

Alons. Prethee peace

Seb. He receiues comfort like cold porredge

Ant. The Visitor will not giue him ore so

Seb. Looke, hee's winding vp the watch of his wit, By and by it will
strike

Gon. Sir

Seb. One: Tell

Gon. When euery greefe is entertaind,

That's offer'd comes to th' entertainer

Seb. A dollor

Gon. Dolour comes to him indeed, you haue spoken truer then you
purpos'd

Seb. You haue taken it wiselier then I meant you should

Gon. Therefore my Lord

Ant. Fie, what a spend-thrift is he of his tongue

Alon. I pre-thee spare

Gon. Well, I haue done: But yet

Seb. He will be talking

Ant. Which, of he, or Adrian, for a good wager, First begins to
crow?

Seb. The old Cocke

Ant. The Cockrell

Seb. Done: The wager?

Ant. A Laughter

Seb. A match

Adr. Though this Island seeme to be desert

Seb. Ha, ha, ha

Ant. So: you'r paid

Adr. Vninhabitable, and almost inaccessible

Seb. Yet

Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not misse't

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench

Seb. I, and a subtle, as he most learnedly deliuer'd

Adr. The ayre breathes vpon vs here most sweetly

Seb. As if it had Lungs, and rotten ones

Ant. Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a Fen

Gon. Heere is euery thing aduantageous to life

Ant. True, saue meanes to liue

Seb. Of that there's none, or little

Gon. How lush and lusty the grasse lookes? How greene?

Ant. The ground indeed is tawny

Seb. With an eye of greene in't

Ant. He misses not much

Seb. No: he doth but mistake the truth totally

Gon. But the rariety of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit

Seb. As many voucht rarieties are

Gon. That our Garments being (as they were) drencht in the Sea, hold
notwithstanding their freshnesse and glosses, being rather new dy'de
then stain'd with salte water

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speake, would it not say he
lyes?

Seb. I, or very falsely pocket vp his report

Gon. Me thinkes our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on
first in Affricke, at the marriage of the kings faire daughter Claribel
to the king of Tunis

Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our returne

Adri. Tunis was neuer grac'd before with such a Paragon to their
Queene

Gon. Not since widdow Dido's time

Ant. Widow? A pox o'that: how came that Widdow in? Widdow Dido!

Seb. What if he had said Widdower aeneas too? Good Lord, how you take
it?

Adri. Widdow Dido said you? You make me study of that: She was of
Carthage, not of Tunis

Gon. This Tunis Sir was Carthage

Adri. Carthage?

Gon. I assure you Carthage

Ant. His word is more then the miraculous Harpe

Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too

Ant. What impossible matter wil he make easy next?

Seb. I thinke hee will carry this Island home in his pocket, and giue
it his sonne for an Apple

Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the Sea, bring forth more
Islands

Gon. I

Ant. Why in good time

Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seeme now as fresh as
when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now
Queene

Ant. And the rarest that ere came there

Seb. Bate (I beseech you) widdow Dido

Ant. O Widdow Dido? I, Widdow Dido

Gon. Is not Sir my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I
meane in a sort

Ant. That sort was well fish'd for

Gon. When I wore it at your daughters marriage

Alon. You cram these words into mine eares, against the stomacke of
my sense: would I had neuer Married my daughter there: For comming
thence My sonne is lost, and (in my rate) she too, Who is so farre from
Italy remoued,

I ne're againe shall see her: O thou mine heire Of Naples and of
Millaine, what strange fish Hath made his meale on thee?

Fran. Sir he may liue,

I saw him beate the surges vnder him,

And ride vpon their backes; he trod the water Whose enmity he flung
aside: and brested

The surge most swolne that met him: his bold head 'Boue the contentious
waues he kept, and oared Himselfe with his good armes in lusty stroke
To th' shore; that ore his waue-worne basis bowed As stooping to
releeue him: I not doubt

He came aliue to Land

Alon. No, no, hee's gone

Seb. Sir you may thank your selfe for this great losse, That would
not blesse our Europe with your daughter, But rather loose her to an
Affrican,

Where she at least, is banish'd from your eye, Who hath cause to wet
the greefe on't

Alon. Pre-thee peace

Seb. You were kneel'd too, & importun'd otherwise By all of vs: and
the faire soule her selfe Waigh'd betweene loathnesse, and obedience,
at Which end o'th' beame should bow: we haue lost your son, I feare for
euer: Millaine and Naples haue Mo widdowes in them of this businesse
making, Then we bring men to comfort them:

The faults your owne

Alon. So is the deer'st oth' losse

Gon. My Lord Sebastian,

The truth you speake doth lacke some gentlenesse, And time to speake it
in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaister

Seb. Very well

Ant. And most Chirurgeonly

Gon. It is foule weather in vs all, good Sir, When you are cloudy

Seb. Fowle weather?

Ant. Very foule

Gon. Had I plantation of this Isle my Lord

Ant. Hee'd sow't with Nettle-seed

Seb. Or dockes, or Mallowes

Gon. And were the King on't, what would I do?

Seb. Scape being drunke, for want of Wine

Gon. I'th' Commonwealth I would (by contraries) Execute all things:
For no kinde of Trafficke Would I admit: No name of Magistrate:

Letters should not be knowne: Riches, pouerty, And vse of seruice,
none: Contract, Succession, Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none:
No vse of Mettall, Corne, or Wine, or Oyle: No occupation, all men
idle, all:

And Women too, but innocent and pure:

No Soueraignty

Seb. Yet he would be King on't

Ant. The latter end of his Common-wealth forgets the beginning

Gon. All things in common Nature should produce Without sweat or
endeuour: Treason, fellony, Sword, Pike, Knife, Gun, or neede of any
Engine Would I not haue: but Nature should bring forth Of it owne
kinde, all foyzon, all abundance To feed my innocent people

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subiects?

Ant. None (man) all idle; Whores and knaues,

Gon. I would with such perfection gouerne Sir: T' Excell the Golden
Age

Seb. 'Saue his Maiesty

Ant. Long liue Gonzalo

Gon. And do you marke me, Sir?

Alon. Pre-thee no more: thou dost talke nothing to me

Gon. I do well beleeue your Highnesse, and did it to minister
occasion to these Gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble Lungs,
that they alwayes vse to laugh at nothing

Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at

Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you: so you
may continue, and laugh at nothing still

Ant. What a blow was there giuen?

Seb. And it had not falne flat-long

Gon. You are Gentlemen of braue mettal: you would lift the Moone out
of her spheare, if she would continue in it fiue weekes without
changing.

Enter Ariell playing solemne Musicke.

Seb. We would so, and then go a Bat-fowling

Ant. Nay good my Lord, be not angry

Gon. No I warrant you, I will not aduenture my discretion so weakly:
Will you laugh me asleepe, for I am very heauy

Ant. Go sleepe, and heare vs

Alon. What, all so soone asleepe? I wish mine eyes Would (with
themselues) shut vp my thoughts, I finde they are inclin'd to do so

Seb. Please you Sir,

Do not omit the heauy offer of it:

It sildome visits sorrow, when it doth, it is a Comforter

Ant. We two my Lord, will guard your person, While you take your
rest, and watch your safety

Alon. Thanke you: Wondrous heauy

Seb. What a strange drowsines possesses them?

Ant. It is the quality o'th' Clymate

Seb. Why

Doth it not then our eye-lids sinke? I finde Not my selfe dispos'd to
sleep

Ant. Nor I, my spirits are nimble:

They fell together all, as by consent

They dropt, as by a Thunder-stroke: what might Worthy Sebastian? O,
what might? no more: And yet, me thinkes I see it in thy face, What
thou should'st be: th' occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination
see's a Crowne

Dropping vpon thy head

Seb. What? art thou waking?

Ant. Do you not heare me speake?

Seb. I do, and surely

It is a sleepy Language; and thou speak'st Out of thy sleepe: What is
it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleepe

With eyes wide open: standing, speaking, mouing: And yet so fast
asleepe

Ant. Noble Sebastian,

Thou let'st thy fortune sleepe: die rather: wink'st Whiles thou art
waking

Seb. Thou do'st snore distinctly,

There's meaning in thy snores

Ant. I am more serious then my custome: you Must be so too, if heed
me: which to do,

Trebbles thee o're

Seb. Well: I am standing water

Ant. Ile teach you how to flow

Seb. Do so: to ebbe

Hereditary Sloth instructs me

Ant. O!

If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mocke it:
how in stripping it You more inuest it: ebbing men, indeed

(Most often) do so neere the bottome run

By their owne feare, or sloth

Seb. 'Pre-thee say on,

The setting of thine eye, and cheeke proclaime A matter from thee; and
a birth, indeed,

Which throwes thee much to yeeld

Ant. Thus Sir:

Although this Lord of weake remembrance; this Who shall be of as little
memory

When he is earth'd, hath here almost perswaded (For hee's a Spirit of
perswasion, onely

Professes to perswade) the King his sonne's aliue, 'Tis as impossible
that hee's vndrown'd,

As he that sleepes heere, swims

Seb. I haue no hope

That hee's vndrown'd

Ant. O, out of that no hope,

What great hope haue you? No hope that way, Is Another way so high a
hope, that euen

Ambition cannot pierce a winke beyond

But doubt discouery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is
drown'd

Seb. He's gone

Ant. Then tell me, who's the next heire of Naples?

Seb. Claribell

Ant. She that is Queene of Tunis: she that dwels Ten leagues beyond
mans life: she that from Naples Can haue no note, vnlesse the Sun were
post: The Man i'th Moone's too slow, till new-borne chinnes Be rough,
and Razor-able: She that from whom We all were sea-swallow'd, though
some cast againe, (And by that destiny) to performe an act

Whereof, what's past is Prologue; what to come In yours, and my
discharge

Seb. What stuffe is this? How say you? 'Tis true my brothers
daughter's Queene of Tunis, So is she heyre of Naples, 'twixt which
Regions There is some space

Ant. A space, whose eu'ry cubit

Seemes to cry out, how shall that Claribell Measure vs backe to Naples?
keepe in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake. Say, this were death That now
hath seiz'd them, why they were no worse Then now they are: There be
that can rule Naples As well as he that sleepes: Lords, that can prate
As amply, and vnnecessarily

As this Gonzallo: I my selfe could make

A Chough of as deepe chat: O, that you bore The minde that I do; what a
sleepe were this For your aduancement? Do you vnderstand me?

Seb. Me thinkes I do

Ant. And how do's your content

Tender your owne good fortune?

Seb. I remember

You did supplant your Brother Prospero

Ant. True:

And looke how well my Garments sit vpon me, Much feater then before: My
Brothers seruants Were then my fellowes, now they are my men

Seb. But for your conscience

Ant. I Sir: where lies that? If 'twere a kybe 'Twould put me to my
slipper: But I feele not This Deity in my bosome: 'Twentie consciences
That stand 'twixt me, and Millaine, candied be they, And melt ere they
mollest: Heere lies your Brother, No better then the earth he lies
vpon,

If he were that which now hee's like (that's dead) Whom I with this
obedient steele (three inches of it) Can lay to bed for euer: whiles
you doing thus, To the perpetuall winke for aye might put This ancient
morsell: this Sir Prudence, who Should not vpbraid our course: for all
the rest They'l take suggestion, as a Cat laps milke, They'l tell the
clocke, to any businesse that We say befits the houre

Seb. Thy case, deere Friend

Shall be my president: As thou got'st Millaine, I'le come by Naples:
Draw thy sword, one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou
paiest, And I the King shall loue thee

Ant. Draw together:

And when I reare my hand, do you the like To fall it on Gonzalo

Seb. O, but one word.

Enter Ariell with Musicke and Song.

Ariel. My Master through his Art foresees the danger That you (his
friend) are in, and sends me forth (For else his proiect dies) to keepe
them liuing.

Sings in Gonzaloes eare.

While you here do snoaring lie,

Open-ey'd Conspiracie

His time doth take:

If of Life you keepe a care,

Shake off slumber and beware.

Awake, awake

Ant. Then let vs both be sodaine

Gon. Now, good Angels preserue the King

Alo. Why how now hoa; awake? why are you drawn? Wherefore this
ghastly looking?

Gon. What's the matter?

Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, (Euen now) we heard a
hollow burst of bellowing Like Buls, or rather Lyons, did't not wake
you? It strooke mine eare most terribly

Alo. I heard nothing

Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a Monsters eare; To make an
earthquake: sure it was the roare Of a whole heard of Lyons

Alo. Heard you this Gonzalo?

Gon. Vpon mine honour, Sir, I heard a humming, (And that a strange
one too) which did awake me: I shak'd you Sir, and cride: as mine eyes
opend, I saw their weapons drawne: there was a noyse, That's verily:
'tis best we stand vpon our guard; Or that we quit this place: let's
draw our weapons

Alo. Lead off this ground & let's make further search For my poore
sonne

Gon. Heauens keepe him from these Beasts: For he is sure i'th
Island

Alo. Lead away

Ariell. Prospero my Lord, shall know what I haue done. So (King) goe
safely on to seeke thy Son.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Caliban, with a burthen of Wood (a noyse of thunder heard.)

Cal. All the infections that the Sunne suckes vp From Bogs, Fens,
Flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By ynch-meale a disease: his
Spirits heare me, And yet I needes must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with Vrchyn-shewes, pitch me i'th mire, Nor lead me like a
fire-brand, in the darke Out of my way, vnlesse he bid 'em; but

For euery trifle, are they set vpon me,

Sometime like Apes, that moe and chatter at me, And after bite me: then
like Hedg-hogs, which Lye tumbling in my bare-foote way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I All wound with Adders, who
with clouen tongues Doe hisse me into madnesse: Lo, now Lo,

Enter  Trinculo.

Here comes a Spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in
slowly: I'le fall flat, Perchance he will not minde me

Tri. Here's neither bush, nor shrub to beare off any weather at all:
and another Storme brewing, I heare it sing ith' winde: yond same
blacke cloud, yond huge one, lookes like a foule bumbard that would
shed his licquor: if it should thunder, as it did before, I know not
where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by
pailefuls. What haue we here, a man, or a fish? dead or aliue? a fish,
hee smels like a fish: a very ancient and fish-like smell: a kinde of,
not of the newest poore-Iohn: a strange fish: were I in England now (as
once I was) and had but this fish painted; not a holiday-foole there
but would giue a peece of siluer: there, would this Monster, make a
man: any strange beast there, makes a man: when they will not giue a
doit to relieue a lame Begger, they will lay out ten to see a dead
Indian: Leg'd like a man; and his Finnes like Armes: warme o'my troth:
I doe now let loose my opinion; hold it no longer; this is no fish, but
an Islander, that hath lately suffered by a Thunderbolt: Alas, the
storme is come againe: my best way is to creepe vnder his Gaberdine:
there is no other shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with
strange bedfellowes: I will here shrowd till the dregges of the storme
be past.

Enter Stephano singing..

Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea, here shall I dye ashore. This is
a very scuruy tune to sing at a mans Funerall: well, here's my
comfort.

Drinkes.

Sings.

The Master, the Swabber, the Boate-swaine & I; The Gunner, and his
Mate

Lou'd Mall, Meg, and Marrian, and Margerie, But none of vs car'd for
Kate.

For she had a tongue with a tang,

Would cry to a Sailor goe hang:

She lou'd not the sauour of Tar nor of Pitch, Yet a Tailor might
scratch her where ere she did itch. Then to Sea Boyes, and let her goe
hang.

This is a scuruy tune too:

But here's my comfort.

Drinks.

Cal. Doe not torment me: oh

Ste. What's the matter?

Haue we diuels here?

Doe you put trickes vpon's with Saluages, and Men of Inde? ha? I haue
not scap'd drowning, to be afeard now of your foure legges: for it hath
bin said; as proper a man as euer went on foure legs, cannot make him
giue ground: and it shall be said so againe, while Stephano breathes
at' nostrils

Cal. The Spirit torments me: oh

Ste. This is some Monster of the Isle, with foure legs; who hath got
(as I take it) an Ague: where the diuell should he learne our language?
I will giue him some reliefe if it be but for that: if I can recouer
him, and keepe him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a Present for
any Emperour that euer trod on Neates-leather

Cal. Doe not torment me 'prethee: I'le bring my wood home faster

Ste. He's in his fit now; and doe's not talke after the wisest; hee
shall taste of my Bottle: if hee haue neuer drunke wine afore, it will
goe neere to remoue his Fit: if I can recouer him, and keepe him tame,
I will not take too much for him; hee shall pay for him that hath him,
and that soundly

Cal. Thou do'st me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by
thy trembling: Now Prosper workes vpon thee

Ste. Come on your wayes: open your mouth: here is that which will
giue language to you Cat; open your mouth; this will shake your
shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your
friend; open your chaps againe

Tri. I should know that voyce:

It should be,

But hee is dround; and these are diuels; O defend me

Ste. Foure legges and two voyces; a most delicate Monster: his
forward voyce now is to speake well of his friend; his backward voice,
is to vtter foule speeches, and to detract: if all the wine in my
bottle will recouer him, I will helpe his Ague: Come: Amen, I will
poure some in thy other mouth

Tri. Stephano

Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy: This is a diuell,
and no Monster: I will leaue him, I haue no long Spoone

Tri. Stephano: if thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speake to me:
for I am Trinculo; be not afeard, thy good friend Trinculo

Ste. If thou bee'st Trinculo: come forth: I'le pull thee by the
lesser legges: if any be Trinculo's legges, these are they: Thou art
very Trinculo indeede: how cam'st thou to be the siege of this
Moone-calfe? Can he vent Trinculo's?

Tri. I tooke him to be kil'd with a thunder-strok; but art thou not
dround Stephano: I hope now thou art not dround: Is the Storme
ouer-blowne? I hid mee vnder the dead Moone-Calfes Gaberdine, for feare
of the Storme: And art thou liuing Stephano? O Stephano, two
Neapolitanes scap'd?

Ste. 'Prethee doe not turne me about, my stomacke is not constant

Cal. These be fine things, and if they be not sprights: that's a
braue God, and beares Celestiall liquor: I will kneele to him

Ste. How did'st thou scape?

How cam'st thou hither?

Sweare by this Bottle how thou cam'st hither: I escap'd vpon a But of
Sacke, which the Saylors heaued o'reboord, by this Bottle which I made
of the barke of a Tree, with mine owne hands, since I was cast a'shore

Cal. I'le sweare vpon that Bottle, to be thy true subiect, for the
liquor is not earthly

St. Heere: sweare then how thou escap'dst

Tri. Swom ashore (man) like a Ducke: I can swim like a Ducke i'le be
sworne

Ste. Here, kisse the Booke.

Though thou canst swim like a Ducke, thou art made like a Goose

Tri. O Stephano, ha'st any more of this?

Ste. The whole But (man) my Cellar is in a rocke by th' sea-side,
where my Wine is hid:

How now Moone-Calfe, how do's thine Ague?

Cal. Ha'st thou not dropt from heauen?

Ste. Out o'th Moone I doe assure thee. I was the Man ith' Moone, when
time was

Cal. I haue seene thee in her: and I doe adore thee: My Mistris
shew'd me thee, and thy Dog, and thy Bush

Ste. Come, sweare to that: kisse the Booke: I will furnish it anon
with new Contents: Sweare

Tri. By this good light, this is a very shallow Monster: I afeard of
him? a very weake Monster:

The Man ith' Moone?

A most poore creadulous Monster:

Well drawne Monster, in good sooth

Cal. Ile shew thee euery fertill ynch o'th Island: and I will kisse
thy foote: I prethee be my god

Tri. By this light, a most perfidious, and drunken Monster, when's
god's a sleepe he'll rob his Bottle

Cal. Ile kisse thy foot, Ile sweare my selfe thy Subiect

Ste. Come on then: downe and sweare

Tri. I shall laugh my selfe to death at this puppi-headed Monster: a
most scuruie Monster: I could finde in my heart to beate him

Ste. Come, kisse

Tri. But that the poore Monster's in drinke: An abhominable Monster

Cal. I'le shew thee the best Springs: I'le plucke thee Berries: I'le
fish for thee; and get thee wood enough. A plague vpon the Tyrant that
I serue;

I'le beare him no more Stickes, but follow thee, thou wondrous man

Tri. A most rediculous Monster, to make a wonder of a poore
drunkard

Cal. I 'prethee let me bring thee where Crabs grow; and I with my
long nayles will digge thee pig-nuts; show thee a Iayes nest, and
instruct thee how to snare the nimble Marmazet: I'le bring thee to
clustring Philbirts, and sometimes I'le get thee young Scamels from the
Rocke: Wilt thou goe with me?

Ste. I pre'thee now lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo,
the King, and all our company else being dround, wee will inherit here:
Here; beare my Bottle: Fellow Trinculo; we'll fill him by and by
againe.

Caliban Sings drunkenly.

Farewell Master; farewell, farewell

Tri. A howling Monster: a drunken Monster

Cal. No more dams I'le make for fish,

Nor fetch in firing, at requiring,

Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish,

Ban' ban' Cacalyban

Has a new Master, get a new Man.

Freedome, high-day, high-day freedome, freedome highday, freedome

Ste. O braue Monster; lead the way.

Exeunt.



Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.

Enter Ferdinand (bearing a Log.)

Fer. There be some Sports are painfull; & their labor Delight in them
set off: Some kindes of basenesse Are nobly vndergon; and most poore
matters Point to rich ends: this my meane Taske

Would be as heauy to me, as odious, but

The Mistris which I serue, quickens what's dead, And makes my labours,
pleasures: O She is Ten times more gentle, then her Father's crabbed;
And he's compos'd of harshnesse. I must remoue Some thousands of these
Logs, and pile them vp, Vpon a sore iniunction; my sweet Mistris

Weepes when she sees me worke, & saies, such basenes Had neuer like
Executor: I forget:

But these sweet thoughts, doe euen refresh my labours, Most busie lest,
when I doe it.

Enter Miranda | and Prospero.

Mir. Alas, now pray you

Worke not so hard: I would the lightning had Burnt vp those Logs that
you are enioynd to pile: Pray set it downe, and rest you: when this
burnes 'Twill weepe for hauing wearied you: my Father Is hard at study;
pray now rest your selfe, Hee's safe for these three houres

Fer. O most deere Mistris

The Sun will set before I shall discharge What I must striue to do

Mir. If you'l sit downe

Ile beare your Logges the while: pray giue me that, Ile carry it to the
pile

Fer. No precious Creature,

I had rather cracke my sinewes, breake my backe, Then you should such
dishonor vndergoe,

While I sit lazy by

Mir. It would become me

As well as it do's you; and I should do it With much more ease: for my
good will is to it, And yours it is against

Pro. Poore worme thou art infected,

This visitation shewes it

Mir. You looke wearily

Fer. No, noble Mistris, 'tis fresh morning with me When you are by
at night: I do beseech you Cheefely, that I might set it in my prayers,
What is your name?

Mir. Miranda, O my Father,

I haue broke your hest to say so

Fer. Admir'd Miranda,

Indeede the top of Admiration, worth

What's deerest to the world: full many a Lady I haue ey'd with best
regard, and many a time Th' harmony of their tongues, hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent eare: for seuerall vertues Haue I lik'd
seuerall women, neuer any

With so full soule, but some defect in her Did quarrell with the
noblest grace she ow'd, And put it to the foile. But you, O you,

So perfect, and so peerlesse, are created Of euerie Creatures best

Mir. I do not know

One of my sexe; no womans face remember,

Saue from my glasse, mine owne: Nor haue I seene More that I may call
men, then you good friend, And my deere Father: how features are abroad
I am skillesse of; but by my modestie

(The iewell in my dower) I would not wish Any Companion in the world
but you:

Nor can imagination forme a shape

Besides your selfe, to like of: but I prattle Something too wildely,
and my Fathers precepts I therein do forget

Fer. I am, in my condition

A Prince (Miranda) I do thinke a King

(I would not so) and would no more endure This wodden slauerie, then to
suffer

The flesh-flie blow my mouth: heare my soule speake. The verie instant
that I saw you, did

My heart flie to your seruice, there resides To make me slaue to it,
and for your sake Am I this patient Logge-man

Mir. Do you loue me?

Fer. O heauen; O earth, beare witnes to this sound, And crowne what I
professe with kinde euent If I speake true: if hollowly, inuert

What best is boaded me, to mischiefe: I,

Beyond all limit of what else i'th world

Do loue, prize, honor you

Mir. I am a foole

To weepe at what I am glad of

Pro. Faire encounter

Of two most rare affections: heauens raine grace On that which breeds
betweene 'em

Fer. Wherefore weepe you?

Mir. At mine vnworthinesse, that dare not offer What I desire to
giue; and much lesse take What I shall die to want: But this is
trifling, And all the more it seekes to hide it selfe, The bigger bulke
it shewes. Hence bashfull cunning, And prompt me plaine and holy
innocence.

I am your wife, if you will marrie me;

If not, Ile die your maid: to be your fellow You may denie me, but Ile
be your seruant Whether you will or no

Fer. My Mistris (deerest)

And I thus humble euer

Mir. My husband then?

Fer. I, with a heart as willing

As bondage ere of freedome: heere's my hand

Mir. And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewel Till halfe an
houre hence

Fer. A thousand, thousand.

Exeunt.

Pro. So glad of this as they I cannot be, Who are surpriz'd with all;
but my reioycing At nothing can be more: Ile to my booke,

For yet ere supper time, must I performe

Much businesse appertaining.

Enter.



Scoena Secunda.

Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo.

Ste. Tell not me, when the But is out we will drinke water, not a
drop before; therefore beare vp, & boord em' Seruant Monster, drinke to
me

Trin. Seruant Monster? the folly of this Iland, they say there's but
fiue vpon this Isle; we are three of them, if th' other two be brain'd
like vs, the State totters

Ste. Drinke seruant Monster when I bid thee, thy eies are almost set
in thy head

Trin. Where should they bee set else? hee were a braue Monster
indeede if they were set in his taile

Ste. My man-Monster hath drown'd his tongue in sacke: for my part
the Sea cannot drowne mee, I swam ere I could recouer the shore, fiue
and thirtie Leagues off and on, by this light thou shalt bee my
Lieutenant Monster, or my Standard

Trin. Your Lieutenant if you list, hee's no standard

Ste. Weel not run Monsieur Monster

Trin. Nor go neither: but you'l lie like dogs, and yet say nothing
neither

Ste. Moone-calfe, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good
Moone-calfe

Cal. How does thy honour? Let me licke thy shooe: Ile not serue him,
he is not valiant

Trin. Thou liest most ignorant Monster, I am in case to iustle a
Constable: why, thou debosh'd Fish thou, was there euer man a Coward,
that hath drunk so much Sacke as I to day? wilt thou tell a monstrous
lie, being but halfe a Fish, and halfe a Monster?

Cal. Loe, how he mockes me, wilt thou let him my Lord?

Trin. Lord, quoth he? that a Monster should be such a Naturall?

Cal. Loe, loe againe: bite him to death I prethee

Ste. Trinculo, keepe a good tongue in your head: If you proue a
mutineere, the next Tree: the poore Monster's my subiect, and he shall
not suffer indignity

Cal. I thanke my noble Lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd to hearken once
againe to the suite I made to thee?

Ste. Marry will I: kneele, and repeate it, I will stand, and so shall
Trinculo.

Enter Ariell inuisible.

Cal. As I told thee before, I am subiect to a Tirant, A Sorcerer,
that by his cunning hath cheated me Of the Island

Ariell. Thou lyest

Cal. Thou lyest, thou iesting Monkey thou: I would my valiant Master
would destroy thee. I do not lye

Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, By this hand,
I will supplant some of your teeth

Trin. Why, I said nothing

Ste. Mum then, and no more: proceed

Cal. I say by Sorcery he got this Isle From me, he got it. If thy
Greatnesse will Reuenge it on him, (for I know thou dar'st) But this
Thing dare not

Ste. That's most certaine

Cal. Thou shalt be Lord of it, and Ile serue thee

Ste. How now shall this be compast?

Canst thou bring me to the party?

Cal. Yea, yea my Lord, Ile yeeld him thee asleepe, Where thou maist
knocke a naile into his head

Ariell. Thou liest, thou canst not

Cal. What a py'de Ninnie's this? Thou scuruy patch: I do beseech thy
Greatnesse giue him blowes, And take his bottle from him: When that's
gone, He shall drinke nought but brine, for Ile not shew him Where the
quicke Freshes are

Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger: Interrupt the Monster one
word further, and by this hand, Ile turne my mercie out o' doores, and
make a Stockfish of thee

Trin. Why, what did I? I did nothing:

Ile go farther off

Ste. Didst thou not say he lyed?

Ariell. Thou liest

Ste. Do I so? Take thou that,

As you like this, giue me the lye another time

Trin. I did not giue the lie: Out o'your wittes, and hearing too?

A pox o'your bottle, this can Sacke and drinking doo: A murren on your
Monster, and the diuell take your fingers

Cal. Ha, ha, ha

Ste. Now forward with your Tale: prethee stand further off

Cal. Beate him enough: after a little time Ile beate him too

Ste. Stand farther: Come proceede

Cal. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custome with him I'th afternoone to
sleepe: there thou maist braine him, Hauing first seiz'd his bookes: Or
with a logge Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, Or cut his
wezand with thy knife. Remember First to possesse his Bookes; for
without them Hee's but a Sot, as I am; nor hath not

One Spirit to command: they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burne but
his Bookes,

He ha's braue Vtensils (for so he calles them) Which when he ha's a
house, hee'l decke withall. And that most deeply to consider, is

The beautie of his daughter: he himselfe

Cals her a non-pareill: I neuer saw a woman But onely Sycorax my Dam,
and she;

But she as farre surpasseth Sycorax,

As great'st do's least

Ste. Is it so braue a Lasse?

Cal. I Lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant, And bring thee forth
braue brood

Ste. Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I will be King
and Queene, saue our Graces: and Trinculo and thy selfe shall be
Viceroyes:

Dost thou like the plot Trinculo?

Trin. Excellent

Ste. Giue me thy hand, I am sorry I beate thee: But while thou
liu'st keepe a good tongue in thy head

Cal. Within this halfe houre will he be asleepe, Wilt thou destroy
him then?

Ste. I on mine honour

Ariell. This will I tell my Master

Cal. Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure, Let vs be iocond.
Will you troule the Catch You taught me but whileare?

Ste. At thy request Monster, I will do reason, Any reason: Come on
Trinculo, let vs sing.

Sings.

Flout 'em, and cout 'em: and skowt 'em, and flout 'em, Thought is free

Cal. That's not the tune.

Ariell plaies the tune on a Tabor and Pipe.

Ste. What is this same?

Trin. This is the tune of our Catch, plaid by the picture of No-body

Ste. If thou beest a man, shew thy selfe in thy likenes: If thou
beest a diuell, take't as thou list

Trin. O forgiue me my sinnes

Ste. He that dies payes all debts: I defie thee; Mercy vpon vs

Cal. Art thou affeard?

Ste. No Monster, not I

Cal. Be not affeard, the Isle is full of noyses, Sounds, and sweet
aires, that giue delight and hurt not: Sometimes a thousand twangling
Instruments Will hum about mine eares; and sometime voices, That if I
then had wak'd after long sleepe, Will make me sleepe againe, and then
in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and shew riches Ready to
drop vpon me, that when I wak'd

I cri'de to dreame againe

Ste. This will proue a braue kingdome to me, Where I shall haue my
Musicke for nothing

Cal. When Prospero is destroy'd

Ste. That shall be by and by:

I remember the storie

Trin. The sound is going away,

Lets follow it, and after do our worke

Ste. Leade Monster,

Wee'l follow: I would I could see this Taborer, He layes it on

Trin. Wilt come?

Ile follow Stephano.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzallo, Adrian, Francisco, &c.

Gon. By'r lakin, I can goe no further, Sir, My old bones akes: here's
a maze trod indeede Through fourth-rights, & Meanders: by your
patience, I needes must rest me

Al. Old Lord, I cannot blame thee,

Who, am my selfe attach'd with wearinesse To th' dulling of my spirits:
Sit downe, and rest: Euen here I will put off my hope, and keepe it No
longer for my Flatterer: he is droun'd Whom thus we stray to finde, and
the Sea mocks Our frustrate search on land: well, let him goe

Ant. I am right glad, that he's so out of hope: Doe not for one
repulse forgoe the purpose That you resolu'd t' effect

Seb. The next aduantage will we take throughly

Ant. Let it be to night,

For now they are oppress'd with trauaile, they Will not, nor cannot vse
such vigilance

As when they are fresh.

Solemne and strange Musicke: and Prosper on the top (inuisible:) Enter
seuerall strange shapes, bringing in a Banket; and dance about it with

gentle actions of salutations, and inuiting the King, &c. to eate,
they

depart.

Seb. I say to night: no more

Al. What harmony is this? my good friends, harke

Gon. Maruellous sweet Musicke

Alo. Giue vs kind keepers, heaue[n]s: what were these?

Seb. A liuing Drolerie: now I will beleeue That there are Vnicornes:
that in Arabia

There is one Tree, the Phoenix throne, one Phoenix At this houre
reigning there

Ant. Ile beleeue both:

And what do's else want credit, come to me And Ile besworne 'tis true:
Trauellers nere did lye, Though fooles at home condemne 'em

Gon. If in Naples

I should report this now, would they beleeue me? If I should say I saw
such Islands;

(For certes, these are people of the Island) Who though they are of
monstrous shape, yet note Their manners are more gentle, kinde, then of
Our humaine generation you shall finde

Many, nay almost any

Pro. Honest Lord,

Thou hast said well: for some of you there present; Are worse then
diuels

Al. I cannot too much muse

Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound expressing (Although they
want the vse of tongue) a kinde Of excellent dumbe discourse

Pro. Praise in departing

Fr. They vanish'd strangely

Seb. No matter, since

They haue left their Viands behinde; for wee haue stomacks. Wilt please
you taste of what is here?

Alo. Not I

Gon. Faith Sir, you neede not feare: when wee were Boyes Who would
beleeue that there were Mountayneeres, Dew-lapt, like Buls, whose
throats had hanging at 'em Wallets of flesh? or that there were such
men Whose heads stood in their brests? which now we finde Each putter
out of fiue for one, will bring vs Good warrant of

Al. I will stand to, and feede,

Although my last, no matter, since I feele The best is past: brother:
my Lord, the Duke, Stand too, and doe as we.

Thunder and Lightning. Enter Ariell (like a Harpey) claps his wings
vpon

the Table, and with a quient deuice the Banquet vanishes.

Ar. You are three men of sinne, whom destiny That hath to instrument
this lower world, And what is in't: the neuer surfeited Sea, Hath
caus'd to belch vp you: and on this Island, Where man doth not inhabit,
you 'mongst men, Being most vnfit to liue: I haue made you mad; And
euen with such like valour, men hang, and drowne Their proper selues:
you fooles, I and my fellowes Are ministers of Fate, the Elements

Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well Wound the loud windes, or
with bemockt-at-Stabs Kill the still closing waters, as diminish One
dowle that's in my plumbe: My fellow ministers Are like-invulnerable:
if you could hurt, Your swords are now too massie for your strengths,
And will not be vplifted: But remember

(For that's my businesse to you) that you three From Millaine did
supplant good Prospero, Expos'd vnto the Sea (which hath requit it)
Him, and his innocent childe: for which foule deed, The Powres,
delaying (not forgetting) haue Incens'd the Seas, and Shores; yea, all
the Creatures Against your peace: Thee of thy Sonne, Alonso They haue
bereft; and doe pronounce by me Lingring perdition (worse then any
death

Can be at once) shall step, by step attend You, and your wayes, whose
wraths to guard you from, Which here, in this most desolate Isle, else
fals Vpon your heads, is nothing but hearts-sorrow, And a cleere life
ensuing.

He vanishes in Thunder: then (to soft Musicke.) Enter the shapes
againe,

and daunce (with mockes and mowes) and carrying out the Table.

Pro. Brauely the figure of this Harpie, hast thou Perform'd (my
Ariell) a grace it had deuouring: Of my Instruction, hast thou nothing
bated In what thou had'st to say: so with good life, And obseruation
strange, my meaner ministers Their seuerall kindes haue done: my high
charmes work, And these (mine enemies) are all knit vp

In their distractions: they now are in my powre; And in these fits, I
leaue them, while I visit Yong Ferdinand (whom they suppose is droun'd)
And his, and mine lou'd darling

Gon. I'th name of something holy, Sir, why stand you In this strange
stare?

Al. O, it is monstrous: monstrous:

Me thought the billowes spoke, and told me of it, The windes did sing
it to me: and the Thunder (That deepe and dreadfull Organ-Pipe)
pronounc'd The name of Prosper: it did base my Trespasse, Therefore my
Sonne i'th Ooze is bedded; and I'le seeke him deeper then ere plummet
sounded, And with him there lye mudded.

Enter.

Seb. But one feend at a time,

Ile fight their Legions ore

Ant. Ile be thy Second.

Exeunt.

Gon. All three of them are desperate: their great guilt (Like poyson
giuen to worke a great time after) Now gins to bite the spirits: I doe
beseech you (That are of suppler ioynts) follow them swiftly, And
hinder them from what this extasie

May now prouoke them to

Ad. Follow, I pray you.

Exeunt. omnes.



Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda.

Pro. If I haue too austerely punish'd you, Your compensation makes
amends, for I

Haue giuen you here, a third of mine owne life, Or that for which I
liue: who, once againe I tender to thy hand: All thy vexations

Were but my trials of thy loue, and thou

Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore heauen I ratifie this my
rich guift: O Ferdinand, Doe not smile at me, that I boast her of, For
thou shalt finde she will out-strip all praise And make it halt,
behinde her

Fer. I doe beleeue it

Against an Oracle

Pro. Then, as my guest, and thine owne acquisition Worthily
purchas'd, take my daughter: But If thou do'st breake her Virgin-knot,
before All sanctimonious ceremonies may

With full and holy right, be ministred,

No sweet aspersion shall the heauens let fall To make this contract
grow; but barraine hate, Sower-ey'd disdaine, and discord shall bestrew
The vnion of your bed, with weedes so loathly That you shall hate it
both: Therefore take heede, As Hymens Lamps shall light you

Fer. As I hope

For quiet dayes, faire Issue, and long life, With such loue, as 'tis
now the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strongst
suggestion, Our worser Genius can, shall neuer melt

Mine honor into lust, to take away

The edge of that dayes celebration,

When I shall thinke, or Phoebus Steeds are founderd, Or Night kept
chain'd below

Pro. Fairely spoke;

Sit then, and talke with her, she is thine owne; What Ariell; my
industrious serua[n]t Ariell.

Enter Ariell.

Ar. What would my potent master? here I am

Pro. Thou, and thy meaner fellowes, your last seruice Did worthily
performe: and I must vse you In such another tricke: goe bring the
rabble (Ore whom I giue thee powre) here, to this place: Incite them to
quicke motion, for I must

Bestow vpon the eyes of this yong couple

Some vanity of mine Art: it is my promise, And they expect it from me

Ar. Presently?

Pro. I: with a twincke

Ar. Before you can say come, and goe,

And breathe twice; and cry, so, so:

Each one tripping on his Toe,

Will be here with mop, and mowe.

Doe you loue me Master? no?

Pro. Dearely, my delicate Ariell: doe not approach Till thou do'st
heare me call

Ar. Well: I conceiue.

Enter.

Pro. Looke thou be true: doe not giue dalliance Too much the raigne:
the strongest oathes, are straw To th' fire ith' blood: be more
abstenious, Or else good night your vow

Fer. I warrant you, Sir,

The white cold virgin Snow, vpon my heart Abates the ardour of my
Liuer

Pro. Well.

Now come my Ariell, bring a Corolary,

Rather then want a Spirit; appear, & pertly.

Soft musick.

No tongue: all eyes: be silent.

Enter Iris.

Ir. Ceres, most bounteous Lady, thy rich Leas Of Wheate, Rye, Barley,
Fetches, Oates and Pease; Thy Turphie-Mountaines, where liue nibling
Sheepe, And flat Medes thetchd with Stouer, them to keepe: Thy bankes
with pioned, and twilled brims Which spungie Aprill, at thy hest
betrims; To make cold Nymphes chast crownes; & thy broomegroues; Whose
shadow the dismissed Batchelor loues, Being lasse-lorne: thy pole-clipt
vineyard, And thy Sea-marge stirrile, and rockey-hard, Where thou thy
selfe do'st ayre, the Queene o'th Skie, Whose watry Arch, and
messenger, am I.

Bids thee leaue these, & with her soueraigne grace,

Iuno  descends.

Here on this grasse-plot, in this very place To come, and sport: here
Peacocks flye amaine: Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertaine.

Enter Ceres.

Cer. Haile, many-coloured Messenger, that nere Do'st disobey the wife
of Iupiter:

Who, with thy saffron wings, vpon my flowres Diffusest hony drops,
refreshing showres, And with each end of thy blew bowe do'st crowne My
boskie acres, and my vnshrubd downe,

Rich scarph to my proud earth: why hath thy Queene Summond me hither,
to this short gras'd Greene?

Ir. A contract of true Loue, to celebrate, And some donation freely
to estate

On the bles'd Louers

Cer. Tell me heauenly Bowe,

If Venus or her Sonne, as thou do'st know, Doe now attend the Queene?
since they did plot The meanes, that duskie Dis, my daughter got, Her,
and her blind-Boyes scandald company, I haue forsworne

Ir. Of her societie

Be not afraid: I met her deitie

Cutting the clouds towards Paphos: and her Son Doue-drawn with her:
here thought they to haue done Some wanton charme, vpon this Man and
Maide, Whose vowes are, that no bed-right shall be paid Till Hymens
Torch be lighted: but in vaine, Marses hot Minion is returnd againe,

Her waspish headed sonne, has broke his arrowes, Swears he will shoote
no more, but play with Sparrows, And be a Boy right out

Cer. Highest Queene of State,

Great Iuno comes, I know her by her gate

Iu. How do's my bounteous sister? goe with me To blesse this twaine,
that they may prosperous be, And honourd in their Issue.

They sing.

Iu. Honor, riches, marriage, blessing,

Long continuance, and encreasing,

Hourely ioyes, be still vpon you,

Iuno sings her blessings on you.

Earths increase, foyzon plentie,

Barnes, and Garners, neuer empty.

Vines, with clustring bunches growing,

Plants, with goodly burthen bowing:

Spring come to you at the farthest,

In the very end of Haruest.

Scarcity and want shall shun you,

Ceres blessing so is on you

Fer. This is a most maiesticke vision, and Harmonious charmingly:
may I be bold

To thinke these spirits?

Pro. Spirits, which by mine Art

I haue from their confines call'd to enact My present fancies

Fer. Let me liue here euer,

So rare a wondred Father, and a wise

Makes this place Paradise

Pro. Sweet now, silence:

Iuno and Ceres whisper seriously,

There's something else to doe: hush, and be mute Or else our spell is
mar'd.

Iuno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment.

Iris. You Nimphs cald Nayades of y windring brooks, With your sedg'd
crownes, and euer-harmelesse lookes, Leaue your crispe channels, and on
this green-Land Answere your summons, Iuno do's command.

Come temperate Nimphes, and helpe to celebrate A Contract of true Loue:
be not too late.

Enter Certaine Nimphes.

You Sun-burn'd Sicklemen of August weary, Come hether from the furrow,
and be merry, Make holly day: your Rye-straw hats put on, And these
fresh Nimphes encounter euery one In Country footing.

Enter certaine Reapers (properly habited:) they ioyne with the
Nimphes,

in a gracefull dance, towards the end whereof, Prospero starts
sodainly

and speakes, after which to a strange hollow and confused noyse, they

heauily vanish.

Pro. I had forgot that foule conspiracy Of the beast Calliban, and
his confederates Against my life: the minute of their plot Is almost
come: Well done, auoid: no more

Fer. This is strange: your fathers in some passion That workes him
strongly

Mir. Neuer till this day

Saw I him touch'd with anger, so distemper'd

Pro. You doe looke (my son) in a mou'd sort, As if you were dismaid:
be cheerefull Sir, Our Reuels now are ended: These our actors, (As I
foretold you) were all Spirits, and Are melted into Ayre, into thin
Ayre,

And like the baselesse fabricke of this vision The Clowd-capt Towres,
the gorgeous Pallaces, The solemne Temples, the great Globe it selfe,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolue, And like this insubstantiall
Pageant faded Leaue not a racke behinde: we are such stuffe As dreames
are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleepe: Sir, I am
vext, Beare with my weakenesse, my old braine is troubled: Be not
disturb'd with my infirmitie,

If you be pleas'd, retire into my Cell,

And there repose, a turne or two, Ile walke To still my beating minde

Fer. Mir. We wish your peace.

Enter.

Pro. Come with a thought; I thank thee Ariell: come.

Enter Ariell.

Ar. Thy thoughts I cleaue to, what's thy pleasure?

Pro. Spirit: We must prepare to meet with Caliban

Ar. I my Commander, when I presented Ceres I thought to haue told
thee of it, but I fear'd Least I might anger thee

Pro. Say again, where didst thou leaue these varlots?

Ar. I told you Sir, they were red-hot with drinking, So full of
valour, that they smote the ayre For breathing in their faces: beate
the ground For kissing of their feete; yet alwaies bending Towards
their proiect: then I beate my Tabor, At which like vnback't colts they
prickt their eares, Aduanc'd their eye-lids, lifted vp their noses As
they smelt musicke, so I charm'd their eares That Calfe-like, they my
lowing follow'd, through Tooth'd briars, sharpe firzes, pricking gosse,
& thorns, Which entred their fraile shins: at last I left them I'th'
filthy mantled poole beyond your Cell, There dancing vp to th' chins,
that the fowle Lake Ore-stunck their feet

Pro. This was well done (my bird)

Thy shape inuisible retaine thou still:

The trumpery in my house, goe bring it hither For stale to catch these
theeues

Ar. I go, I goe.

Enter.

Pro. A Deuill, a borne-Deuill, on whose nature Nurture can neuer
sticke: on whom my paines Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost,
And, as with age, his body ouglier growes, So his minde cankers: I will
plague them all, Euen to roaring: Come, hang on them this line.

Enter Ariell, loaden with glistering apparell, &c. Enter Caliban,
Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet.

Cal. Pray you tread softly, that the blinde Mole may not heare a foot
fall: we now are neere his Cell

St. Monster, your Fairy, w you say is a harmles Fairy, Has done
little better then plaid the Iacke with vs

Trin. Monster, I do smell all horse-pisse, at which My nose is in
great indignation

Ste. So is mine. Do you heare Monster: If I should Take a
displeasure against you: Looke you

Trin. Thou wert but a lost Monster

Cal. Good my Lord, giue me thy fauour stil, Be patient, for the
prize Ile bring thee too Shall hudwinke this mischance: therefore
speake softly, All's husht as midnight yet

Trin. I, but to loose our bottles in the Poole

Ste. There is not onely disgrace and dishonor in that Monster, but
an infinite losse

Tr. That's more to me then my wetting: Yet this is your harmlesse
Fairy, Monster

Ste. I will fetch off my bottle,

Though I be o're eares for my labour

Cal. Pre-thee (my King) be quiet. Seest thou heere This is the mouth
o'th Cell: no noise, and enter: Do that good mischeefe, which may make
this Island Thine owne for euer, and I thy Caliban

For aye thy foot-licker

Ste. Giue me thy hand,

I do begin to haue bloody thoughts

Trin. O King Stephano, O Peere: O worthy Stephano, Looke what a
wardrobe heere is for thee

Cal. Let it alone thou foole, it is but trash

Tri. Oh, ho, Monster: wee know what belongs to a frippery, O King
Stephano

Ste. Put off that gowne (Trinculo) by this hand Ile haue that gowne

Tri. Thy grace shall haue it

Cal. The dropsie drowne this foole, what doe you meane To doate thus
on such luggage? let's alone And doe the murther first: if he awake,

From toe to crowne hee'l fill our skins with pinches, Make vs strange
stuffe

Ste. Be you quiet (Monster) Mistris line, is not this my Ierkin? how
is the Ierkin vnder the line: now Ierkin you are like to lose your
haire, & proue a bald Ierkin

Trin. Doe, doe; we steale by lyne and leuell, and't like your grace

Ste. I thank thee for that iest; heer's a garment for't: Wit shall
not goe vn-rewarded while I am King of this Country: Steale by line and
leuell, is an excellent passe of pate: there's another garment for't

Tri. Monster, come put some Lime vpon your fingers, and away with
the rest

Cal. I will haue none on't: we shall loose our time, And all be
turn'd to Barnacles, or to Apes With foreheads villanous low

Ste. Monster, lay to your fingers: helpe to beare this away, where
my hogshead of wine is, or Ile turne you out of my kingdome: goe to,
carry this

Tri. And this

Ste. I, and this.

A noyse of Hunters heard. Enter diuers Spirits in shape of Dogs and

Hounds, hunting them about: Prospero and Ariel setting them on.

Pro. Hey Mountaine, hey

Ari. Siluer: there it goes, Siluer

Pro. Fury, Fury: there Tyrant, there: harke, harke. Goe, charge my
Goblins that they grinde their ioynts With dry Convultions, shorten vp
their sinewes With aged Cramps, & more pinch-spotted make them, Then
Pard, or Cat o' Mountaine

Ari. Harke, they rore

Pro. Let them be hunted soundly: At this houre Lies at my mercy all
mine enemies:

Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou Shalt haue the ayre at
freedome: for a little Follow, and doe me seruice.

Exeunt.



Actus quintus: Scoena Prima.

Enter Prospero (in his Magicke robes) and Ariel.

Pro. Now do's my Proiect gather to a head: My charmes cracke not: my
Spirits obey, and Time Goes vpright with his carriage: how's the day?

Ar. On the sixt hower, at which time, my Lord You said our worke
should cease

Pro. I did say so,

When first I rais'd the Tempest: say my Spirit, How fares the King,
and's followers?

Ar. Confin'd together

In the same fashion, as you gaue in charge, Iust as you left them; all
prisoners Sir

In the Line-groue which weather-fends your Cell, They cannot boudge
till your release: The King, His Brother, and yours, abide all three
distracted, And the remainder mourning ouer them,

Brim full of sorrow, and dismay: but chiefly Him that you term'd Sir,
the good old Lord Gonzallo, His teares runs downe his beard like
winters drops From eaues of reeds: your charm so strongly works 'em
That if you now beheld them, your affections Would become tender

Pro. Dost thou thinke so, Spirit?

Ar. Mine would, Sir, were I humane

Pro. And mine shall.

Hast thou (which art but aire) a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions,
and shall not my selfe, One of their kinde, that rellish all as
sharpely, Passion as they, be kindlier mou'd then thou art? Thogh with
their high wrongs I am strook to th' quick, Yet, with my nobler reason,
gainst my furie Doe I take part: the rarer Action is

In vertue, then in vengeance: they, being penitent, The sole drift of
my purpose doth extend

Not a frowne further: Goe, release them Ariell, My Charmes Ile breake,
their sences Ile restore, And they shall be themselues

Ar. Ile fetch them, Sir.

Enter.

Pro. Ye Elues of hils, brooks, sta[n]ding lakes & groues, And ye,
that on the sands with printlesse foote Doe chase the ebbingNeptune,
and doe flie him When he comes backe: you demy-Puppets, that By
Moone-shine doe the greene sowre Ringlets make, Whereof the Ewe not
bites: and you, whose pastime Is to make midnight-Mushrumps, that
reioyce To heare the solemne Curfewe, by whose ayde (Weake Masters
though ye be) I haue bedymn'd The Noone-tide Sun, call'd forth the
mutenous windes, And twixt the greene Sea, and the azur'd vault Set
roaring warre: To the dread ratling Thunder Haue I giuen fire, and
rifted Ioues stowt Oke With his owne Bolt: The strong bass'd
promontorie Haue I made shake, and by the spurs pluckt vp The Pyne, and
Cedar. Graues at my command Haue wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let
'em forth By my so potent Art. But this rough Magicke I heere abiure:
and when I haue requir'd

Some heauenly Musicke (which euen now I do) To worke mine end vpon
their Sences, that This Ayrie-charme is for, I'le breake my staffe,
Bury it certaine fadomes in the earth,

And deeper then did euer Plummet sound

Ile drowne my booke.

Solemne musicke.

Heere enters Ariel before: Then Alonso with a franticke gesture,
attended

by Gonzalo. Sebastian and Anthonio in like manner attended by Adrian
and

Francisco: They all enter the circle which Prospero had made, and
there

stand charm'd: which Prospero obseruing, speakes.

A solemne Ayre, and the best comforter,

To an vnsetled fancie, Cure thy braines

(Now vselesse) boile within thy skull: there stand For you are
Spell-stopt.

Holy Gonzallo, Honourable man,

Mine eyes ev'n sociable to the shew of thine Fall fellowly drops: The
charme dissolues apace, And as the morning steales vpon the night
(Melting the darkenesse) so their rising sences Begin to chace the
ignorant fumes that mantle Their cleerer reason. O good Gonzallo

My true preseruer, and a loyall Sir,

To him thou follow'st; I will pay thy graces Home both in word, and
deede: Most cruelly Did thou Alonso, vse me, and my daughter: Thy
brother was a furtherer in the Act,

Thou art pinch'd for't now Sebastian. Flesh, and bloud, You, brother
mine, that entertaine ambition, Expelld remorse, and nature, whom, with
Sebastian (Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong) Would heere
haue kill'd your King: I do forgiue thee, Vnnaturall though thou art:
Their vnderstanding Begins to swell, and the approching tide

Will shortly fill the reasonable shore

That now ly foule, and muddy: not one of them That yet lookes on me, or
would know me: Ariell, Fetch me the Hat, and Rapier in my Cell,

I will discase me, and my selfe present

As I was sometime Millaine: quickly Spirit, Thou shalt ere long be
free.

Ariell sings, and helps to attire him.

Where the Bee sucks, there suck I,

In a Cowslips bell, I lie,

There I cowch when Owles doe crie,

On the Batts backe I doe flie

after Sommer merrily.

Merrily, merrily, shall I liue now,

Vnder the blossom that hangs on the Bow

Pro. Why that's my dainty Ariell: I shall misse Thee, but yet thou
shalt haue freedome: so, so, so, To the Kings ship, inuisible as thou
art, There shalt thou finde the Marriners asleepe Vnder the Hatches:
the Master and the Boat-swaine Being awake, enforce them to this
place;

And presently, I pre'thee

Ar. I drinke the aire before me, and returne Or ere your pulse twice
beate.

Enter.

Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement Inhabits heere: some
heauenly power guide vs Out of this fearefull Country

Pro. Behold Sir King

The wronged Duke of Millaine, Prospero:

For more assurance that a liuing Prince

Do's now speake to thee, I embrace thy body, And to thee, and thy
Company, I bid

A hearty welcome

Alo. Where thou bee'st he or no,

Or some inchanted triflle to abuse me,

(As late I haue beene) I not know: thy Pulse Beats as of flesh, and
blood: and since I saw thee, Th' affliction of my minde amends, with
which I feare a madnesse held me: this must craue (And if this be at
all) a most strange story. Thy Dukedome I resigne, and doe entreat

Thou pardon me my wrongs: But how shold Prospero Be liuing, and be
heere?

Pro. First, noble Frend,

Let me embrace thine age, whose honor cannot Be measur'd, or confin'd

Gonz. Whether this be,

Or be not, I'le not sweare

Pro. You doe yet taste

Some subtleties o'th' Isle, that will nor let you Beleeue things
certaine: Wellcome, my friends all, But you, my brace of Lords, were I
so minded I heere could plucke his Highnesse frowne vpon you And
iustifie you Traitors: at this time

I will tell no tales

Seb. The Diuell speakes in him:

Pro. No:

For you (most wicked Sir) whom to call brother Would euen infect my
mouth, I do forgiue

Thy rankest fault; all of them: and require My Dukedome of thee, which,
perforce I know Thou must restore

Alo. If thou beest Prospero

Giue vs particulars of thy preseruation,

How thou hast met vs heere, whom three howres since Were wrackt vpon
this shore? where I haue lost (How sharp the point of this remembrance
is) My deere sonne Ferdinand

Pro. I am woe for't, Sir

Alo. Irreparable is the losse, and patience Saies, it is past her
cure

Pro. I rather thinke

You haue not sought her helpe, of whose soft grace For the like losse,
I haue her soueraigne aid, And rest my selfe content

Alo. You the like losse?

Pro. As great to me, as late, and supportable To make the deere
losse, haue I meanes much weaker Then you may call to comfort you; for
I

Haue lost my daughter

Alo. A daughter?

Oh heauens, that they were liuing both in Naples The King and Queene
there, that they were, I wish My selfe were mudded in that oozie bed

Where my sonne lies: when did you lose your daughter?

Pro. In this last Tempest. I perceiue these Lords At this encounter
doe so much admire,

That they deuoure their reason, and scarce thinke Their eies doe
offices of Truth: Their words Are naturall breath: but howsoeu'r you
haue Beene iustled from your sences, know for certain That I am
Prospero, and that very Duke

Which was thrust forth of Millaine, who most strangely Vpon this shore
(where you were wrackt) was landed To be the Lord on't: No more yet of
this, For 'tis a Chronicle of day by day,

Not a relation for a break-fast, nor

Befitting this first meeting: Welcome, Sir; This Cell's my Court: heere
haue I few attendants, And Subiects none abroad: pray you looke in: My
Dukedome since you haue giuen me againe, I will requite you with as
good a thing,

At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye As much, as me my
Dukedome.

Here Prospero discouers Ferdinand and Miranda, playing at Chesse.

Mir. Sweet Lord, you play me false

Fer. No my dearest loue,

I would not for the world

Mir. Yes, for a score of Kingdomes, you should wrangle, And I would
call it faire play

Alo. If this proue

A vision of the Island, one deere Sonne

Shall I twice loose

Seb. A most high miracle

Fer. Though the Seas threaten they are mercifull, I haue curs'd them
without cause

Alo. Now all the blessings

Of a glad father, compasse thee about:

Arise, and say how thou cam'st heere

Mir. O wonder!

How many goodly creatures are there heere? How beauteous mankinde is? O
braue new world That has such people in't

Pro. 'Tis new to thee

Alo. What is this Maid, with whom thou was't at play? Your eld'st
acquaintance cannot be three houres: Is she the goddesse that hath
seuer'd vs, And brought vs thus together?

Fer. Sir, she is mortall;

But by immortall prouidence, she's mine;

I chose her when I could not aske my Father For his aduise: nor thought
I had one: She Is daughter to this famous Duke of Millaine, Of whom, so
often I haue heard renowne,

But neuer saw before: of whom I haue

Receiu'd a second life; and second Father This Lady makes him to me

Alo. I am hers.

But O, how odly will it sound, that I

Must aske my childe forgiuenesse?

Pro. There Sir stop,

Let vs not burthen our remembrances, with A heauinesse that's gon

Gon. I haue inly wept,

Or should haue spoke ere this: looke downe you gods And on this couple
drop a blessed crowne; For it is you, that haue chalk'd forth the way
Which brought vs hither

Alo. I say Amen, Gonzallo

Gon. Was Millaine thrust from Millaine, that his Issue Should become
Kings of Naples? O reioyce

Beyond a common ioy, and set it downe

With gold on lasting Pillers: In one voyage Did Claribell her husband
finde at Tunis, And Ferdinand her brother, found a wife,

Where he himselfe was lost: Prospero, his Dukedome In a poore Isle: and
all of vs, our selues, When no man was his owne

Alo. Giue me your hands:

Let griefe and sorrow still embrace his heart, That doth not wish you
ioy

Gon. Be it so, Amen.

Enter Ariell, with the Master and Boatswaine amazedly following.

O looke Sir, looke Sir, here is more of vs: I prophesi'd, if a Gallowes
were on Land

This fellow could not drowne: Now blasphemy, That swear'st Grace
ore-boord, not an oath on shore, Hast thou no mouth by land?

What is the newes?

Bot. The best newes is, that we haue safely found Our King, and
company: The next: our Ship, Which but three glasses since, we gaue out
split, Is tyte, and yare, and brauely rig'd, as when We first put out
to Sea

Ar. Sir, all this seruice

Haue I done since I went

Pro. My tricksey Spirit

Alo. These are not naturall euents, they strengthen From strange, to
stranger: say, how came you hither?

Bot. If I did thinke, Sir, I were well awake, I'ld striue to tell
you: we were dead of sleepe, And (how we know not) all clapt vnder
hatches, Where, but euen now, with strange, and seuerall noyses Of
roring, shreeking, howling, gingling chaines, And mo diuersitie of
sounds, all horrible. We were awak'd: straight way, at liberty; Where
we, in all our trim, freshly beheld Our royall, good, and gallant Ship:
our Master Capring to eye her: on a trice, so please you, Euen in a
dreame, were we diuided from them, And were brought moaping hither

Ar. Was't well done?

Pro. Brauely (my diligence) thou shalt be free

Alo. This is as strange a Maze, as ere men trod, And there is in
this businesse, more then nature Was euer conduct of: some Oracle

Must rectifie our knowledge

Pro. Sir, my Leige,

Doe not infest your minde, with beating on The strangenesse of this
businesse, at pickt leisure (Which shall be shortly single) I'le
resolue you, (Which to you shall seeme probable) of euery These happend
accidents: till when, be cheerefull And thinke of each thing well: Come
hither Spirit, Set Caliban, and his companions free:

Vntye the Spell: How fares my gracious Sir? There are yet missing of
your Companie

Some few odde Lads, that you remember not.

Enter Ariell, driuing in Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo in their
stolne

Apparell.

Ste. Euery man shift for all the rest, and let No man take care for
himselfe; for all is But fortune: Coragio Bully-Monster Coragio

Tri. If these be true spies which I weare in my head, here's a
goodly sight

Cal. O Setebos, these be braue Spirits indeede: How fine my Master
is? I am afraid

He will chastise me

Seb. Ha, ha:

What things are these, my Lord Anthonio?

Will money buy em?

Ant. Very like: one of them

Is a plaine Fish, and no doubt marketable

Pro. Marke but the badges of these men, my Lords, Then say if they
be true: This mishapen knaue; His Mother was a Witch, and one so strong
That could controle the Moone; make flowes, and ebs, And deale in her
command, without her power: These three haue robd me, and this
demy-diuell; (For he's a bastard one) had plotted with them To take my
life: two of these Fellowes, you Must know, and owne, this Thing of
darkenesse, I Acknowledge mine

Cal. I shall be pincht to death

Alo. Is not this Stephano, my drunken Butler?

Seb. He is drunke now;

Where had he wine?

Alo. And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they Finde this grand
Liquor that hath gilded 'em? How cam'st thou in this pickle?

Tri. I haue bin in such a pickle since I saw you last, That I feare
me will neuer out of my bones: I shall not feare fly-blowing

Seb. Why how now Stephano?

Ste. O touch me not, I am not Stephano, but a Cramp

Pro. You'ld be King o'the Isle, Sirha?

Ste. I should haue bin a sore one then

Alo. This is a strange thing as ere I look'd on

Pro. He is as disproportion'd in his Manners As in his shape: Goe
Sirha, to my Cell,

Take with you your Companions: as you looke To haue my pardon, trim it
handsomely

Cal. I that I will: and Ile be wise hereafter, And seeke for grace:
what a thrice double Asse Was I to take this drunkard for a god?

And worship this dull foole?

Pro. Goe to, away

Alo. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it

Seb. Or stole it rather

Pro. Sir, I inuite your Highnesse, and your traine To my poore Cell:
where you shall take your rest For this one night, which part of it,
Ile waste With such discourse, as I not doubt, shall make it Goe quicke
away: The story of my life,

And the particular accidents, gon by

Since I came to this Isle: And in the morne I'le bring you to your
ship, and so to Naples, Where I haue hope to see the nuptiall

Of these our deere-belou'd, solemnized,

And thence retire me to my Millaine, where Euery third thought shall be
my graue

Alo. I long

To heare the story of your life; which must Take the eare strangely

Pro. I'le deliuer all,

And promise you calme Seas, auspicious gales, And saile, so
expeditious, that shall catch Your Royall fleete farre off: My Ariel;
chicke That is thy charge: Then to the Elements

Be free, and fare thou well: please you draw neere.

Exeunt. omnes.



EPILOGVE, spoken by Prospero.

Now my Charmes are all ore-throwne,

And what strength I haue's mine owne.

Which is most faint: now 'tis true

I must be heere confinde by you,

Or sent to Naples, Let me not

Since I haue my Dukedome got,

And pardon'd the deceiuer, dwell

In this bare Island, by your Spell,

But release me from my bands

With the helpe of your good hands:

Gentle breath of yours, my Sailes

Must fill, or else my proiect failes,

Which was to please: Now I want

Spirits to enforce: Art to inchant,

And my ending is despaire,

Vnlesse I be relieu'd by praier

Which pierces so, that it assaults

Mercy it selfe, and frees all faults.

As you from crimes would pardon'd be,

Let your Indulgence set me free.

Enter.



The-, an vn-inhabited Island

Names of the Actors.

Alonso, K[ing]. of Naples:

Sebastian his Brother.

Prospero, the right Duke of Millaine.

Anthonio his brother, the vsurping Duke of Millaine. Ferdinand, Son to
the King of Naples.

Gonzalo, an honest old Councellor.

Adrian, & Francisco, Lords.

Caliban, a saluage and deformed slaue.

Trinculo, a Iester.

Stephano, a drunken Butler.

Master of a Ship.

Boate-Swaine.

Marriners.

Miranda, daughter to Prospero.

Ariell, an ayrie spirit.

Iris

Ceres

Iuno

Nymphes

Reapers

Spirits.

FINIS. THE TEMPEST.



The Two Gentlemen of Verona

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Valentine: Protheus, and Speed.

Valentine. Cease to perswade, my louing Protheus; Home-keeping youth,
haue euer homely wits, Wer't not affection chaines thy tender dayes To
the sweet glaunces of thy honour'd Loue, I rather would entreat thy
company,

To see the wonders of the world abroad,

Then (liuing dully sluggardiz'd at home)

Weare out thy youth with shapelesse idlenesse. But since thou lou'st;
loue still, and thriue therein, Euen as I would, when I to loue begin

Pro. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine adew, Thinke on thy
Protheus, when thou (hap'ly) seest Some rare note-worthy obiect in thy
trauaile. Wish me partaker in thy happinesse,

When thou do'st meet good hap; and in thy danger, (If euer danger doe
enuiron thee)

Commend thy grieuance to my holy prayers, For I will be thy beades-man,
Valentine

Val. And on a loue-booke pray for my successe?

Pro. Vpon some booke I loue, I'le pray for thee

Val. That's on some shallow Storie of deepe loue, How yong Leander
crost the Hellespont

Pro. That's a deepe Storie, of a deeper loue, For he was more then
ouer-shooes in loue

Val. 'Tis true; for you are ouer-bootes in loue, And yet you neuer
swom the Hellespont

Pro. Ouer the Bootes? nay giue me not the Boots

Val. No, I will not; for it boots thee not

Pro. What?

Val. To be in loue; where scorne is bought with grones: Coy looks,
with hart-sore sighes: one fading moments mirth, With twenty watchfull,
weary, tedious nights; If hap'ly won, perhaps a haplesse gaine;

If lost, why then a grieuous labour won;

How euer: but a folly bought with wit,

Or else a wit, by folly vanquished

Pro. So, by your circumstance, you call me foole

Val. So, by your circumstance, I feare you'll proue

Pro. 'Tis Loue you cauill at, I am not Loue

Val. Loue is your master, for he masters you; And he that is so
yoked by a foole,

Me thinkes should not be chronicled for wise

Pro. Yet Writers say; as in the sweetest Bud, The eating Canker
dwels; so eating Loue

Inhabits in the finest wits of all

Val. And Writers say; as the most forward Bud Is eaten by the Canker
ere it blow,

Euen so by Loue, the yong, and tender wit Is turn'd to folly, blasting
in the Bud,

Loosing his verdure, euen in the prime,

And all the faire effects of future hopes. But wherefore waste I time
to counsaile thee That art a votary to fond desire?

Once more adieu: my Father at the Road

Expects my comming, there to see me ship'd

Pro. And thither will I bring thee Valentine

Val. Sweet Protheus, no: Now let vs take our leaue: To Millaine let
me heare from thee by Letters Of thy successe in loue; and what newes
else Betideth here in absence of thy Friend:

And I likewise will visite thee with mine

Pro. All happinesse bechance to thee in Millaine

Val. As much to you at home: and so farewell.

Enter

Pro. He after Honour hunts, I after Loue; He leaues his friends, to
dignifie them more; I loue my selfe, my friends, and all for loue: Thou
Iulia, thou hast metamorphis'd me:

Made me neglect my Studies, loose my time; Warre with good counsaile;
set the world at nought; Made Wit with musing, weake; hart sick with
thought

Sp. Sir Protheus: 'saue you: saw you my Master?

Pro. But now he parted hence to embarque for Millain

Sp. Twenty to one then, he is ship'd already, And I haue plaid the
Sheepe in loosing him

Pro. Indeede a Sheepe doth very often stray, And if the Shepheard be
awhile away

Sp. You conclude that my Master is a Shepheard then, and I Sheepe?

Pro. I doe

Sp. Why then my hornes are his hornes, whether I wake or sleepe

Pro. A silly answere, and fitting well a Sheepe

Sp. This proues me still a Sheepe

Pro. True: and thy Master a Shepheard

Sp. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance

Pro. It shall goe hard but ile proue it by another

Sp. The Shepheard seekes the Sheepe, and not the Sheepe the
Shepheard; but I seeke my Master, and my Master seekes not me:
therefore I am no Sheepe

Pro. The Sheepe for fodder follow the Shepheard, the Shepheard for
foode followes not the Sheepe: thou for wages followest thy Master, thy
Master for wages followes not thee: therefore thou art a Sheepe

Sp. Such another proofe will make me cry baa

Pro. But do'st thou heare: gau'st thou my Letter to Iulia?

Sp. I Sir: I (a lost-Mutton) gaue your Letter to her (a lac'd-Mutton)
and she (a lac'd-Mutton) gaue mee (a lost-Mutton) nothing for my
labour

Pro. Here's too small a Pasture for such store of Muttons

Sp. If the ground be ouer-charg'd, you were best sticke her

Pro. Nay, in that you are astray: 'twere best pound you

Sp. Nay Sir, lesse then a pound shall serue me for carrying your
Letter

Pro. You mistake; I meane the pound, a Pinfold

Sp. From a pound to a pin? fold it ouer and ouer, 'Tis threefold too
little for carrying a letter to your louer

Pro. But what said she?

Sp. I

Pro. Nod-I, why that's noddy

Sp. You mistooke Sir: I say she did nod; And you aske me if she did
nod, and I say I

Pro. And that set together is noddy

Sp. Now you haue taken the paines to set it together, take it for
your paines

Pro. No, no, you shall haue it for bearing the letter

Sp. Well, I perceiue I must be faine to beare with you

Pro. Why Sir, how doe you beare with me?

Sp. Marry Sir, the letter very orderly, Hauing nothing but the word
noddy for my paines

Pro. Beshrew me, but you haue a quicke wit

Sp. And yet it cannot ouer-take your slow purse

Pro. Come, come, open the matter in briefe; what said she

Sp. Open your purse, that the money, and the matter may be both at
once deliuered

Pro. Well Sir: here is for your paines: what said she?

Sp. Truely Sir, I thinke you'll hardly win her

Pro. Why? could'st thou perceiue so much from her?

Sp. Sir, I could perceiue nothing at all from her; No, not so much as
a ducket for deliuering your letter: And being so hard to me, that
brought your minde; I feare she'll proue as hard to you in telling your
minde. Giue her no token but stones, for she's as hard as steele

Pro. What said she, nothing?

Sp. No, not so much as take this for thy pains: To testifie your
bounty, I thank you, you haue cestern'd me; In requital whereof,
henceforth, carry your letters your selfe; And so Sir, I'le commend you
to my Master

Pro. Go, go, be gone, to saue your Ship from wrack, Which cannot
perish hauing thee aboarde,

Being destin'd to a drier death on shore: I must goe send some better
Messenger,

I feare my Iulia would not daigne my lines, Receiuing them from such a
worthlesse post.

Enter.



Scoena Secunda.

Enter Iulia and Lucetta.

Iul. But say Lucetta (now we are alone) Would'st thou then counsaile
me to fall in loue?

Luc. I Madam, so you stumble not vnheedfully

Iul. Of all the faire resort of Gentlemen, That euery day with
par'le encounter me,

In thy opinion which is worthiest loue?

Lu. Please you repeat their names, ile shew my minde, According to my
shallow simple skill

Iu. What thinkst thou of the faire sir Eglamoure?   Lu. As of a
Knight, well-spoken, neat, and fine; But were I you, he neuer should be
mine

Iu. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?   Lu. Well of his
wealth; but of himselfe, so, so

Iu. What think'st thou of the gentle Protheus?   Lu. Lord, Lord: to
see what folly raignes in vs

Iu. How now? what meanes this passion at his name?   Lu. Pardon
deare Madam, 'tis a passing shame, That I (vnworthy body as I am)

Should censure thus on louely Gentlemen

Iu. Why not on Protheus, as of all the rest?   Lu. Then thus: of
many good, I thinke him best

Iul. Your reason?

Lu. I haue no other but a womans reason: I thinke him so, because I
thinke him so

Iul. And would'st thou haue me cast my loue on him?   Lu. I: if you
thought your loue not cast away

Iul. Why he, of all the rest, hath neuer mou'd me

Lu. Yet he, of all the rest, I thinke best loues ye

Iul. His little speaking, shewes his loue but small

Lu. Fire that's closest kept, burnes most of all

Iul. They doe not loue, that doe not shew their loue

Lu. Oh, they loue least, that let men know their loue

Iul. I would I knew his minde

Lu. Peruse this paper Madam

Iul. To Iulia: say, from whom?

Lu. That the Contents will shew

Iul. Say, say: who gaue it thee?

Lu. Sir Valentines page: & sent I think from Protheus; He would haue
giuen it you, but I being in the way, Did in your name receiue it:
pardon the fault I pray

Iul. Now (by my modesty) a goodly Broker: Dare you presume to
harbour wanton lines? To whisper, and conspire against my youth? Now
trust me, 'tis an office of great worth, And you an officer fit for the
place:

There: take the paper: see it be return'd, Or else returne no more into
my sight

Lu. To plead for loue, deserues more fee, then hate

Iul. Will ye be gon?

Lu. That you may ruminate.

Enter.

Iul. And yet I would I had ore-look'd the Letter; It were a shame to
call her backe againe, And pray her to a fault, for which I chid her.
What 'foole is she, that knowes I am a Maid, And would not force the
letter to my view? Since Maides, in modesty, say no, to that, Which
they would haue the profferer construe, I. Fie, fie: how way-ward is
this foolish loue; That (like a testie Babe) will scratch the Nurse,
And presently, all humbled kisse the Rod? How churlishly, I chid
Lucetta hence,

When willingly, I would haue had her here? How angerly I taught my brow
to frowne,

When inward ioy enforc'd my heart to smile? My pennance is, to call
Lucetta backe

And aske remission, for my folly past.

What hoe: Lucetta

Lu. What would your Ladiship?

Iul. Is't neere dinner time?

Lu. I would it were,

That you might kill your stomacke on your meat, And not vpon your Maid

Iu. What is't that you

Tooke vp so gingerly?

Lu. Nothing

Iu. Why didst thou stoope then?

Lu. To take a paper vp, that I let fall

Iul. And is that paper nothing?

Lu. Nothing concerning me

Iul. Then let it lye, for those that it concernes

Lu. Madam, it will not lye where it concernes, Vnlesse it haue a
false Interpreter

Iul. Some loue of yours, hath writ to you in Rime

Lu. That I might sing it (Madam) to a tune: Giue me a Note, your
Ladiship can set

Iul. As little by such toyes, as may be possible: Best sing it to the
tune of Light O, Loue

Lu. It is too heauy for so light a tune

Iu. Heauy? belike it hath some burden then?   Lu. I: and melodious
were it, would you sing it,   Iu. And why not you?

Lu. I cannot reach so high

Iu. Let's see your Song:

How now Minion?

Lu. Keepe tune there still; so you will sing it out: And yet me
thinkes I do not like this tune

Iu. You doe not?

Lu. No (Madam) tis too sharpe

Iu. You (Minion) are too saucie

Lu. Nay, now you are too flat;

And marre the concord, with too harsh a descant: There wanteth but a
Meane to fill your Song

Iu. The meane is dround with you vnruly base

Lu. Indeede I bid the base for Protheus

Iu. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me; Here is a coile
with protestation:

Goe, get you gone: and let the papers lye: You would be fingring them,
to anger me

Lu. She makes it stra[n]ge, but she would be best pleas'd To be so
angred with another Letter

Iu. Nay, would I were so angred with the same: Oh hatefull hands, to
teare such louing words; Iniurious Waspes, to feede on such sweet hony,
And kill the Bees that yeelde it, with your stings; Ile kisse each
seuerall paper, for amends: Looke, here is writ, kinde Iulia: vnkinde
Iulia, As in reuenge of thy ingratitude,

I throw thy name against the bruzing-stones, Trampling contemptuously
on thy disdaine. And here is writ, Loue wounded Protheus.

Poore wounded name: my bosome, as a bed,

Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly heal'd; And thus I search
it with a soueraigne kisse. But twice, or thrice, was Protheus written
downe: Be calme (good winde) blow not a word away, Till I haue found
each letter, in the Letter, Except mine own name: That, some
whirle-winde beare Vnto a ragged, fearefull, hanging Rocke,

And throw it thence into the raging Sea.

Loe, here in one line is his name twice writ: Poore forlorne Protheus,
passionate Protheus: To the sweet Iulia: that ile teare away:

And yet I will not, sith so prettily

He couples it, to his complaining Names;

Thus will I fold them, one vpon another;

Now kisse, embrace, contend, doe what you will

Lu. Madam: dinner is ready: and your father staies

Iu. Well, let vs goe

Lu. What, shall these papers lye, like Tel-tales here?   Iu. If you
respect them; best to take them vp

Lu. Nay, I was taken vp, for laying them downe. Yet here they shall
not lye, for catching cold

Iu. I see you haue a months minde to them

Lu. I (Madam) you may say what sights you see; I see things too,
although you iudge I winke

Iu. Come, come, wilt please you goe.

Exeunt.



Scoena Tertia.



Enter Antonio and Panthino. Protheus.

Ant. Tell me Panthino, what sad talke was that, Wherewith my brother
held you in the Cloyster?   Pan. 'Twas of his Nephew Protheus, your
Sonne

Ant. Why? what of him?

Pan. He wondred that your Lordship

Would suffer him, to spend his youth at home, While other men, of
slender reputation

Put forth their Sonnes, to seeke preferment out. Some to the warres, to
try their fortune there; Some, to discouer Islands farre away:

Some, to the studious Vniuersities;

For any, or for all these exercises,

He said, that Protheus, your sonne, was meet; And did request me, to
importune you

To let him spend his time no more at home; Which would be great
impeachment to his age, In hauing knowne no trauaile in his youth

Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me to that Whereon, this month
I haue bin hamering.

I haue consider'd well, his losse of time, And how he cannot be a
perfect man,

Not being tryed, and tutord in the world: Experience is by industry
atchieu'd,

And perfected by the swift course of time: Then tell me, whether were I
best to send him?   Pan. I thinke your Lordship is not ignorant How his
companion, youthfull Valentine,

Attends the Emperour in his royall Court

Ant. I know it well

Pan. 'Twere good, I thinke, your Lordship sent him (thither,

There shall he practise Tilts, and Turnaments; Heare sweet discourse,
conuerse with Noble-men, And be in eye of euery Exercise

Worthy his youth, and noblenesse of birth

Ant. I like thy counsaile: well hast thou aduis'd: And that thou
maist perceiue how well I like it, The execution of it shall make
knowne;

Euen with the speediest expedition,

I will dispatch him to the Emperors Court

Pan. To morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso, With other
Gentlemen of good esteeme

Are iournying, to salute the Emperor,

And to commend their seruice to his will

Ant. Good company: with them shall Protheus go: And in good time:
now will we breake with him

Pro. Sweet Loue, sweet lines, sweet life, Here is her hand, the
agent of her heart; Here is her oath for loue, her honors paune; O that
our Fathers would applaud our loues To seale our happinesse with their
consents

Pro. Oh heauenly Iulia

Ant. How now? What Letter are you reading there?   Pro. May't please
your Lordship, 'tis a word or two Of commendations sent from
Valentine;

Deliuer'd by a friend, that came from him

Ant. Lend me the Letter: Let me see what newes

Pro. There is no newes (my Lord) but that he writes How happily he
liues, how well-belou'd,

And daily graced by the Emperor;

Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune

Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish?   Pro. As one relying
on your Lordships will, And not depending on his friendly wish

Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish: Muse not that I thus
sodainly proceed;

For what I will, I will, and there an end: I am resolu'd, that thou
shalt spend some time With Valentinus, in the Emperors Court:

What maintenance he from his friends receiues, Like exhibition thou
shalt haue from me,

To morrow be in readinesse, to goe,

Excuse it not: for I am peremptory

Pro. My Lord I cannot be so soone prouided, Please you deliberate a
day or two

Ant. Look what thou want'st shalbe sent after thee: No more of stay:
to morrow thou must goe; Come on Panthino; you shall be imployd,

To hasten on his Expedition

Pro. Thus haue I shund the fire, for feare of burning, And drench'd
me in the sea, where I am drown'd. I fear'd to shew my Father Iulias
Letter, Least he should take exceptions to my loue, And with the
vantage of mine owne excuse

Hath he excepted most against my loue.

Oh, how this spring of loue resembleth

The vncertaine glory of an Aprill day,

Which now shewes all the beauty of the Sun, And by and by a clowd takes
all away

Pan. Sir Protheus, your Fathers call's for you, He is in hast,
therefore I pray you go

Pro. Why this it is: my heart accords thereto, And yet a thousand
times it answer's no.

Exeunt. Finis.



Actus secundus: Scoena Prima.

Enter Valentine, Speed, Siluia

Speed. Sir, your Gloue

Valen. Not mine: my Gloues are on

Sp. Why then this may be yours: for this is but one

Val. Ha? Let me see: I, giue it me, it's mine: Sweet Ornament, that
deckes a thing diuine, Ah Siluia, Siluia

Speed. Madam Siluia: Madam Siluia

Val. How now Sirha?

Speed. Shee is not within hearing Sir

Val. Why sir, who bad you call her?

Speed. Your worship sir, or else I mistooke

Val. Well: you'll still be too forward

Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow

Val. Goe to, sir, tell me: do you know Madam Siluia?   Speed. Shee
that your worship loues?

Val. Why, how know you that I am in loue?   Speed. Marry by these
speciall markes: first, you haue learn'd (like Sir Protheus) to wreath
your Armes like a Male-content: to rellish a Loue-song, like a
Robin-redbreast: to walke alone like one that had the pestilence: to
sigh, like a Schoole-boy that had lost his A.B.C. to weep like a yong
wench that had buried her Grandam: to fast, like one that takes diet:
to watch, like one that feares robbing: to speake puling, like a beggar
at Hallow-Masse: You were wont, when you laughed, to crow

like a cocke; when you walk'd, to walke like one of the Lions: when you
fasted, it was presently after dinner: when you look'd sadly, it was
for want of money: And now you are Metamorphis'd with a Mistris, that
when I looke on you, I can hardly thinke you my Master

Val. Are all these things perceiu'd in me?   Speed. They are all
perceiu'd without ye

Val. Without me? they cannot

Speed. Without you? nay, that's certaine: for without you were so
simple, none else would: but you are so without these follies, that
these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in
an Vrinall: that not an eye that sees you, but is a Physician to
comment on your Malady

Val. But tell me: do'st thou know my Lady Siluia?   Speed. Shee that
you gaze on so, as she sits at supper?   Val. Hast thou obseru'd that?
euen she I meane

Speed. Why sir, I know her not

Val. Do'st thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know'st her
not?

Speed. Is she not hard-fauour'd, sir?

Val. Not so faire (boy) as well fauour'd

Speed. Sir, I know that well enough

Val. What dost thou know?

Speed. That shee is not so faire, as (of you) well-fauourd?   Val. I
meane that her beauty is exquisite, But her fauour infinite

Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the other out of all
count

Val. How painted? and how out of count?   Speed. Marry sir, so
painted to make her faire, that no man counts of her beauty

Val. How esteem'st thou me? I account of her beauty

Speed. You neuer saw her since she was deform'd

Val. How long hath she beene deform'd?   Speed. Euer since you lou'd
her

Val. I haue lou'd her euer since I saw her, And still I see her
beautifull

Speed. If you loue her, you cannot see her

Val. Why?

Speed. Because Loue is blinde: O that you had mine eyes, or your owne
eyes had the lights they were wont to haue, when you chidde at Sir
Protheus, for going vngarter'd

Val. What should I see then?

Speed. Your owne present folly, and her passing deformitie: for hee
beeing in loue, could not see to garter his hose; and you, beeing in
loue, cannot see to put on your hose

Val. Belike (boy) then you are in loue, for last morning You could
not see to wipe my shooes

Speed. True sir: I was in loue with my bed, I thanke you, you
swing'd me for my loue, which makes mee the bolder to chide you, for
yours

Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her

Speed. I would you were set, so your affection would cease

Val. Last night she enioyn'd me,

To write some lines to one she loues

Speed. And haue you?

Val. I haue

Speed. Are they not lamely writt?

Val. No (Boy) but as well as I can do them: Peace, here she comes

Speed. Oh excellent motion; oh exceeding Puppet: Now will he
interpret to her

Val. Madam & Mistres, a thousand good-morrows

Speed. Oh, 'giue ye-good-ev'n: heer's a million of manners

Sil. Sir Valentine, and seruant, to you two thousand

Speed. He should giue her interest: & she giues it him

Val. As you inioynd me; I haue writ your Letter Vnto the secret,
nameles friend of yours: Which I was much vnwilling to proceed in, But
for my duty to your Ladiship

Sil. I thanke you (gentle Seruant) 'tis very Clerklydone

Val. Now trust me (Madam) it came hardly-off: For being ignorant to
whom it goes,

I writ at randome, very doubtfully

Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains?   Val. No
(Madam) so it steed you, I will write (Please you command) a thousand
times as much: And yet -

Sil. A pretty period: well: I ghesse the sequell; And yet I will not
name it: and yet I care not. And yet, take this againe: and yet I
thanke you: Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more

Speed. And yet you will: and yet, another yet

Val. What meanes your Ladiship?

Doe you not like it?

Sil. Yes, yes: the lines are very queintly writ, But (since
vnwillingly) take them againe. Nay, take them

Val. Madam, they are for you

Silu. I, I: you writ them Sir, at my request, But I will none of
them: they are for you: I would haue had them writ more mouingly: Val.
Please you, Ile write your Ladiship another

Sil. And when it's writ: for my sake read it ouer, And if it please
you, so: if not: why so:   Val. If it please me, (Madam?) what then?
Sil. Why if it please you, take it for your labour; And so good-morrow
Seruant.

Exit. Sil.

Speed. Oh Iest vnseene: inscrutible: inuisible, As a nose on a mans
face, or a Wethercocke on a steeple: My Master sues to her: and she
hath taught her Sutor, He being her Pupill, to become her Tutor. Oh
excellent deuise, was there euer heard a better? That my master being
scribe,

To himselfe should write the Letter?

Val. How now Sir?

What are you reasoning with your selfe?

Speed. Nay: I was riming: 'tis you y haue the reason

Val. To doe what?

Speed. To be a Spokes-man from Madam Siluia

Val. To whom?

Speed. To your selfe: why, she woes you by a figure

Val. What figure?

Speed. By a Letter, I should say

Val. Why she hath not writ to me?

Speed. What need she,

When shee hath made you write to your selfe? Why, doe you not perceiue
the iest?

Val. No, beleeue me

Speed. No beleeuing you indeed sir:

But did you perceiue her earnest?

Val. She gaue me none, except an angry word

Speed. Why she hath giuen you a Letter

Val. That's the Letter I writ to her friend

Speed. And y letter hath she deliuer'd, & there an end

Val. I would it were no worse

Speed. Ile warrant you, 'tis as well:

For often haue you writ to her: and she in modesty, Or else for want of
idle time, could not againe reply, Or fearing els some messe[n]ger, y
might her mind discouer Her self hath taught her Loue himself, to write
vnto her louer. All this I speak in print, for in print I found it. Why
muse you sir, 'tis dinner time

Val. I haue dyn'd

Speed. I, but hearken sir: though the Cameleon Loue can feed on the
ayre, I am one that am nourish'd by my victuals; and would faine haue
meate: oh bee not like your Mistresse, be moued, be moued.

Exeunt.



Scoena secunda.

Enter Protheus, Iulia, Panthion.

Pro. Haue patience, gentle Iulia:

Iul. I must where is no remedy

Pro. When possibly I can, I will returne

Iul. If you turne not: you will return the sooner: Keepe this
remembrance for thy Iulia's sake

Pro. Why then wee'll make exchange;

Here, take you this

Iul. And seale the bargaine with a holy kisse

Pro. Here is my hand, for my true constancie: And when that howre
ore-slips me in the day, Wherein I sigh not (Iulia) for thy sake,

The next ensuing howre, some foule mischance Torment me for my Loues
forgetfulnesse:

My father staies my comming: answere not: The tide is now; nay, not thy
tide of teares, That tide will stay me longer then I should, Iulia,
farewell: what, gon without a word? I, so true loue should doe: it
cannot speake, For truth hath better deeds, then words to grace it

Panth. Sir Protheus: you are staid for

Pro. Goe: I come, I come:

Alas, this parting strikes poore Louers dumbe.

Exeunt.



Scoena Tertia.

Enter Launce, Panthion.

Launce. Nay, 'twill bee this howre ere I haue done weeping: all the
kinde of the Launces, haue this very fault: I haue receiu'd my
proportion, like the prodigious Sonne, and am going with Sir Protheus
to the Imperialls Court: I thinke Crab my dog, be the sowrest natured
dogge that liues: My Mother weeping: my Father wayling: my Sister
crying: our Maid howling: our Catte wringing her hands, and all our
house in a great perplexitie, yet did not this cruell-hearted Curre
shedde one teare: he is a stone, a very pibble stone, and has no more
pitty in him then a dogge: a Iew would haue wept to haue seene our
parting: why my Grandam hauing no eyes, looke you, wept her selfe
blinde at my parting: nay, Ile shew you the manner of it. This shooe is
my father: no, this left shooe is my father; no, no, this left shooe is
my mother: nay, that cannot bee so neyther: yes; it is so, it is so: it
hath the worser sole: this shooe with the hole in it, is my mother: and
this my father: a veng'ance on't, there 'tis: Now sir, this staffe is
my sister: for, looke you, she is as white as a lilly, and as small as
a wand: this hat is Nan our maid: I am the dogge: no, the dogge is
himselfe, and I am the dogge: oh, the dogge is me, and I am my selfe:
I; so, so: now come I to my Father; Father, your blessing: now should
not the shooe speake a word for weeping: now should I kisse my Father;
well, hee weepes on: Now come I to my Mother: Oh that she could speake
now, like a would-woman: well, I kisse her: why there 'tis; heere's my
mothers breath vp and downe: Now come I to my sister; marke the moane
she makes: now the dogge all this while sheds not a teare: nor speakes
a word: but see how I lay the dust with my teares

Panth. Launce, away, away: a Boord: thy Master is ship'd, and thou
art to post after with oares; what's the matter? why weep'st thou man?
away asse, you'l loose the Tide, if you tarry any longer

Laun. It is no matter if the tide were lost, for it is the vnkindest
Tide, that euer any man tide

Panth. What's the vnkindest tide?

Lau. Why, he that's tide here, Crab my dog

Pant. Tut, man: I meane thou'lt loose the flood, and in loosing the
flood, loose thy voyage, and in loosing thy voyage, loose thy Master,
and in loosing thy Master, loose thy seruice, and in loosing thy
seruice: - why dost thou stop my mouth?

Laun. For feare thou shouldst loose thy tongue

Panth. Where should I loose my tongue?   Laun. In thy Tale

Panth. In thy Taile

Laun. Loose the Tide, and the voyage, and the Master, and the
Seruice, and the tide: why man, if the Riuer were drie, I am able to
fill it with my teares: if the winde were downe, I could driue the
boate with my sighes

Panth. Come: come away man, I was sent to call thee

Lau. Sir: call me what thou dar'st

Pant. Wilt thou goe?

Laun. Well, I will goe.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Valentine, Siluia, Thurio, Speed, Duke, Protheus.

Sil. Seruant

Val. Mistris

Spee. Master, Sir Thurio frownes on you

Val. I Boy, it's for loue

Spee. Not of you

Val. Of my Mistresse then

Spee. 'Twere good you knockt him

Sil. Seruant, you are sad

Val. Indeed, Madam, I seeme so

Thu. Seeme you that you are not?

Val. Hap'ly I doe

Thu. So doe Counterfeyts

Val. So doe you

Thu. What seeme I that I am not?

Val. Wise

Thu. What instance of the contrary?

Val. Your folly

Thu. And how quoat you my folly?

Val. I quoat it in your Ierkin

Thu. My Ierkin is a doublet

Val. Well then, Ile double your folly

Thu. How?

Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio, do you change colour?   Val. Giue him
leaue, Madam, he is a kind of Camelion

Thu. That hath more minde to feed on your bloud, then liue in your
ayre

Val. You haue said Sir

Thu. I Sir, and done too for this time

Val. I know it wel sir, you alwaies end ere you begin

Sil. A fine volly of words, gentleme[n], & quickly shot off   Val.
'Tis indeed, Madam, we thank the giuer

Sil. Who is that Seruant?

Val. Your selfe (sweet Lady) for you gaue the fire, Sir Thurio
borrows his wit from your Ladiships lookes, And spends what he borrowes
kindly in your company

Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit
bankrupt

Val. I know it well sir: you haue an Exchequer of words, And I
thinke, no other treasure to giue your followers: For it appeares by
their bare Liueries

That they liue by your bare words

Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more:

Here comes my father

Duk. Now, daughter Siluia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your
father is in good health, What say you to a Letter from your friends Of
much good newes?

Val. My Lord, I will be thankfull,

To any happy messenger from thence

Duk. Know ye Don Antonio, your Countriman?   Val. I, my good Lord, I
know the Gentleman To be of worth, and worthy estimation,

And not without desert so well reputed

Duk. Hath he not a Sonne?

Val. I, my good Lord, a Son, that well deserues The honor, and regard
of such a father

Duk. You know him well?

Val. I knew him as my selfe: for from our Infancie We haue conuerst,
and spent our howres together, And though my selfe haue beene an idle
Trewant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time

To cloath mine age with Angel-like perfection: Yet hath Sir Protheus
(for that's his name) Made vse, and faire aduantage of his daies: His
yeares but yong, but his experience old: His head vn-mellowed, but his
Iudgement ripe; And in a word (for far behinde his worth

Comes all the praises that I now bestow.)

He is compleat in feature, and in minde,

With all good grace, to grace a Gentleman

Duk. Beshrew me sir, but if he make this good He is as worthy for an
Empresse loue,

As meet to be an Emperors Councellor:

Well, Sir: this Gentleman is come to me

With Commendation from great Potentates,

And heere he meanes to spend his time a while, I thinke 'tis no
vn-welcome newes to you

Val. Should I haue wish'd a thing, it had beene he

Duk. Welcome him then according to his worth: Siluia, I speake to
you, and you Sir Thurio, For Valentine, I need not cite him to it, I
will send him hither to you presently

Val. This is the Gentleman I told your Ladiship Had come along with
me, but that his Mistresse Did hold his eyes, lockt in her Christall
lookes

Sil. Be-like that now she hath enfranchis'd them Vpon some other
pawne for fealty

Val. Nay sure, I thinke she holds them prisoners stil

Sil. Nay then he should be blind, and being blind How could he see
his way to seeke out you?   Val. Why Lady, Loue hath twenty paire of
eyes

Thur. They say that Loue hath not an eye at all

Val. To see such Louers, Thurio, as your selfe, Vpon a homely
obiect, Loue can winke

Sil. Haue done, haue done: here comes y gentleman

Val. Welcome, deer Protheus: Mistris, I beseech you Confirme his
welcome, with some speciall fauor

Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hether, If this be he you
oft haue wish'd to heare from

Val. Mistris, it is: sweet Lady, entertaine him To be my
fellow-seruant to your Ladiship

Sil. Too low a Mistres for so high a seruant

Pro. Not so, sweet Lady, but too meane a seruant To haue a looke of
such a worthy a Mistresse

Val. Leaue off discourse of disabilitie: Sweet Lady, entertaine him
for your Seruant

Pro. My dutie will I boast of, nothing else

Sil. And dutie neuer yet did want his meed. Seruant, you are welcome
to a worthlesse Mistresse

Pro. Ile die on him that saies so but your selfe

Sil. That you are welcome?

Pro. That you are worthlesse

Thur. Madam, my Lord your father wold speak with you

Sil. I wait vpon his pleasure: Come Sir Thurio, Goe with me: once
more, new Seruant welcome; Ile leaue you to confer of home affaires,
When you haue done, we looke too heare from you

Pro. Wee'll both attend vpon your Ladiship

Val. Now tell me: how do al from whence you came?   Pro. Your frends
are wel, & haue the[m] much co[m]mended

Val. And how doe yours?

Pro. I left them all in health

Val. How does your Lady? & how thriues your loue?   Pro. My tales of
Loue were wont to weary you, I know you ioy not in a Loue-discourse

Val. I Protheus, but that life is alter'd now, I haue done pennance
for contemning Loue, Whose high emperious thoughts haue punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitentiall grones, With nightly teares, and
daily hart-sore sighes, For in reuenge of my contempt of loue,

Loue hath chas'd sleepe from my enthralled eyes, And made them watchers
of mine owne hearts sorrow. O gentle Protheus, Loue's a mighty Lord,

And hath so humbled me, as I confesse

There is no woe to his correction,

Nor to his Seruice, no such ioy on earth: Now, no discourse, except it
be of loue:

Now can I breake my fast, dine, sup, and sleepe, Vpon the very naked
name of Loue

Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye: Was this the Idoll,
that you worship so?

Val. Euen She; and is she not a heauenly Saint?   Pro. No; But she is
an earthly Paragon

Val. Call her diuine

Pro. I will not flatter her

Val. O flatter me: for Loue delights in praises

Pro. When I was sick, you gaue me bitter pils, And I must minister
the like to you

Val. Then speake the truth by her; if not diuine, Yet let her be a
principalitie,

Soueraigne to all the Creatures on the earth

Pro. Except my Mistresse

Val. Sweet: except not any,

Except thou wilt except against my Loue

Pro. Haue I not reason to prefer mine owne?   Val. And I will help
thee to prefer her to: Shee shall be dignified with this high honour,
To beare my Ladies traine, lest the base earth Should from her vesture
chance to steale a kisse, And of so great a fauor growing proud,

Disdaine to roote the Sommer-swelling flowre, And make rough winter
euerlastingly

Pro. Why Valentine, what Bragadisme is this?   Val. Pardon me
(Protheus) all I can is nothing, To her, whose worth, make other
worthies nothing; Shee is alone

Pro. Then let her alone

Val. Not for the world: why man, she is mine owne, And I as rich in
hauing such a Iewell

As twenty Seas, if all their sand were pearle, The water, Nectar, and
the Rocks pure gold. Forgiue me, that I doe not dreame on thee, Because
thou seest me doate vpon my loue: My foolish Riuall that her Father
likes

(Onely for his possessions are so huge)

Is gone with her along, and I must after, For Loue (thou know'st is
full of iealousie.)

Pro. But she loues you?

Val. I, and we are betroathd: nay more, our mariage howre, With all
the cunning manner of our flight Determin'd of: how I must climbe her
window, The Ladder made of Cords, and all the means Plotted, and 'greed
on for my happinesse. Good Protheus goe with me to my chamber,

In these affaires to aid me with thy counsaile

Pro. Goe on before: I shall enquire you forth: I must vnto the Road,
to dis-embarque

Some necessaries, that I needs must vse,

And then Ile presently attend you

Val. Will you make haste?

Enter.

Pro. I will.

Euen as one heate, another heate expels,

Or as one naile, by strength driues out another. So the remembrance of
my former Loue

Is by a newer obiect quite forgotten,

It is mine, or Valentines praise?

Her true perfection, or my false transgression? That makes me
reasonlesse, to reason thus? Shee is faire: and so is Iulia that I
loue, (That I did loue, for now my loue is thaw'd, Which like a waxen
Image 'gainst a fire

Beares no impression of the thing it was.)

Me thinkes my zeale to Valentine is cold, And that I loue him not as I
was wont:

O, but I loue his Lady too-too much,

And that's the reason I loue him so little. How shall I doate on her
with more aduice, That thus without aduice begin to loue her? 'Tis but
her picture I haue yet beheld,

And that hath dazel'd my reasons light:

But when I looke on her perfections,

There is no reason, but I shall be blinde. If I can checke my erring
loue, I will,

If not, to compasse her Ile vse my skill.

Exeunt.



Scena Quinta.

Enter Speed and Launce.

Speed. Launce, by mine honesty welcome to Padua

Laun. Forsweare not thy selfe, sweet youth, for I am not welcome. I
reckon this alwaies, that a man is neuer vndon till hee be hang'd, nor
neuer welcome to a place, till some certaine shot be paid, and the
Hostesse say welcome

Speed. Come-on you mad-cap: Ile to the Ale-house with you presently;
where, for one shot of fiue pence, thou shalt haue fiue thousand
welcomes: But sirha, how did thy Master part with Madam Iulia?

Lau. Marry after they cloas'd in earnest, they parted very fairely in
iest

Spee. But shall she marry him?

Lau. No

Spee. How then? shall he marry her?

Lau. No, neither

Spee. What, are they broken?

Lau. No; they are both as whole as a fish

Spee. Why then, how stands the matter with them?   Lau. Marry thus,
when it stands well with him, it stands well with her

Spee. What an asse art thou, I vnderstand thee not

Lau. What a blocke art thou, that thou canst not? My staffe
vnderstands me?

Spee. What thou saist?

Lau. I, and what I do too: looke thee, Ile but leane, and my staffe
vnderstands me

Spee. It stands vnder thee indeed

Lau. Why, stand-vnder: and vnder-stand is all one

Spee. But tell me true, wil't be a match?   Lau. Aske my dogge, if
he say I, it will: if hee say no, it will: if hee shake his taile, and
say nothing, it will

Spee. The conclusion is then, that it will

Lau. Thou shalt neuer get such a secret from me, but by a parable

Spee. 'Tis well that I get it so: but Launce, how saist thou that
that my master is become a notable Louer?   Lau. I neuer knew him
otherwise

Spee. Then how?

Lau. A notable Lubber: as thou reportest him to bee

Spee. Why, thou whorson Asse, thou mistak'st me,   Lau. Why Foole, I
meant not thee, I meant thy Master

Spee. I tell thee, my Master is become a hot Louer

Lau. Why, I tell thee, I care not, though hee burne himselfe in
Loue. If thou wilt goe with me to the Alehouse: if not, thou art an
Hebrew, a Iew, and not worth the name of a Christian

Spee. Why?

Lau. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as to goe to the
Ale with a Christian: Wilt thou goe?   Spee. At thy seruice.

Exeunt.



Scoena Sexta.

Enter Protheus solus.

Pro. To leaue my Iulia; shall I be forsworne? To loue faire Siluia;
shall I be forsworne? To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworne.
And ev'n that Powre which gaue me first my oath Prouokes me to this
three-fold periurie.

Loue bad mee sweare, and Loue bids me for-sweare; O sweet-suggesting
Loue, if thou hast sin'd, Teach me (thy tempted subiect) to excuse it.
At first I did adore a twinkling Starre,

But now I worship a celestiall Sunne:

Vn-heedfull vowes may heedfully be broken, And he wants wit, that wants
resolued will, To learne his wit, t' exchange the bad for better; Fie,
fie, vnreuerend tongue, to call her bad, Whose soueraignty so oft thou
hast preferd, With twenty thousand soule-confirming oathes. I cannot
leaue to loue; and yet I doe:

But there I leaue to loue, where I should loue. Iulia I loose, and
Valentine I loose,

If I keepe them, I needs must loose my selfe: If I loose them, thus
finde I by their losse, For Valentine, my selfe: for Iulia, Siluia. I
to my selfe am deerer then a friend,

For Loue is still most precious in it selfe, And Siluia (witnesse
heauen that made her faire) Shewes Iulia but a swarthy Ethiope.

I will forget that Iulia is aliue,

Remembring that my Loue to her is dead.

And Valentine Ile hold an Enemie,

Ayming at Siluia as a sweeter friend.

I cannot now proue constant to my selfe,

Without some treachery vs'd to Valentine. This night he meaneth with a
Corded-ladder To climbe celestiall Siluia's chamber window, My selfe in
counsaile his competitor.

Now presently Ile giue her father notice

Of their disguising and pretended flight: Who (all inrag'd) will banish
Valentine:

For Thurio he intends shall wed his daughter, But Valentine being gon,
Ile quickely crosse By some slie tricke, blunt Thurio's dull
proceeding. Loue lend me wings, to make my purpose swift As thou hast
lent me wit, to plot this drift.

Enter.



Scoena septima.

Enter Iulia and Lucetta.

Iul. Counsaile, Lucetta, gentle girle assist me, And eu'n in kinde
loue, I doe coniure thee, Who art the Table wherein all my thoughts Are
visibly Character'd, and engrau'd,

To lesson me, and tell me some good meane How with my honour I may
vndertake

A iourney to my louing Protheus

Luc. Alas, the way is wearisome and long

Iul. A true-deuoted Pilgrime is not weary To measure Kingdomes with
his feeble steps, Much lesse shall she that hath Loues wings to flie,
And when the flight is made to one so deere, Of such diuine perfection
as Sir Protheus

Luc. Better forbeare, till Protheus make returne

Iul. Oh, know'st y not, his looks are my soules food? Pitty the
dearth that I haue pined in,

By longing for that food so long a time.

Didst thou but know the inly touch of Loue, Thou wouldst as soone goe
kindle fire with snow As seeke to quench the fire of Loue with words

Luc. I doe not seeke to quench your Loues hot fire, But qualifie the
fires extreame rage,

Lest it should burne aboue the bounds of reason

Iul. The more thou dam'st it vp, the more it burnes: The Current
that with gentle murmure glides (Thou know'st) being stop'd,
impatiently doth rage: But when his faire course is not hindered, He
makes sweet musicke with th' enameld stones, Giuing a gentle kisse to
euery sedge

He ouer-taketh in his pilgrimage.

And so by many winding nookes he straies

With willing sport to the wilde Ocean.

Then let me goe, and hinder not my course: Ile be as patient as a
gentle streame,

And make a pastime of each weary step,

Till the last step haue brought me to my Loue, And there Ile rest, as
after much turmoile A blessed soule doth in Elizium

Luc. But in what habit will you goe along?   Iul. Not like a woman,
for I would preuent The loose encounters of lasciuious men:

Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weedes

As may beseeme some well reputed Page

Luc. Why then your Ladiship must cut your haire

Iul. No girle, Ile knit it vp in silken strings, With twentie
od-conceited true-loue knots: To be fantastique, may become a youth

Of greater time then I shall shew to be

Luc. What fashion (Madam) shall I make your breeches?   Iul. That
fits as well, as tell me (good my Lord) What compasse will you weare
your Farthingale? Why eu'n what fashion thou best likes (Lucetta.)

Luc. You must needs haue the[m] with a cod-peece Ma[dam]   Iul. Out,
out, (Lucetta) that wilbe illfauourd

Luc. A round hose (Madam) now's not worth a pin Vnlesse you haue a
cod-peece to stick pins on

Iul. Lucetta, as thou lou'st me let me haue What thou think'st meet,
and is most mannerly. But tell me (wench) how will the world repute me
For vndertaking so vnstaid a iourney?

I feare me it will make me scandaliz'd

Luc. If you thinke so, then stay at home, and go not

Iul. Nay, that I will not

Luc. Then neuer dreame on Infamy, but go: If Protheus like your
iourney, when you come, No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone:
I feare me he will scarce be pleas'd with all

Iul. That is the least (Lucetta) of my feare: A thousand oathes, an
Ocean of his teares, And instances of infinite of Loue,

Warrant me welcome to my Protheus

Luc. All these are seruants to deceitfull men

Iul. Base men, that vse them to so base effect; But truer starres
did gouerne Protheus birth, His words are bonds, his oathes are
oracles, His loue sincere, his thoughts immaculate, His teares, pure
messengers, sent from his heart, His heart, as far from fraud, as
heauen from earth

Luc. Pray heau'n he proue so when you come to him

Iul. Now, as thou lou'st me, do him not that wrong, To beare a hard
opinion of his truth:

Onely deserue my loue, by louing him,

And presently goe with me to my chamber

To take a note of what I stand in need of, To furnish me vpon my
longing iourney:

All that is mine I leaue at thy dispose,

My goods, my Lands, my reputation,

Onely, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence: Come; answere not: but to it
presently,

I am impatient of my tarriance.

Exeunt.



Actus Tertius, Scena Prima.

Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus, Valentine, Launce, Speed.

Duke. Sir Thurio, giue vs leaue (I pray) a while, We haue some
secrets to confer about.

Now tell me Protheus, what's your will with me?   Pro. My gracious
Lord, that which I wold discouer, The Law of friendship bids me to
conceale, But when I call to minde your gracious fauours Done to me
(vndeseruing as I am)

My dutie pricks me on to vtter that

Which else, no worldly good should draw from me: Know (worthy Prince)
Sir Valentine my friend This night intends to steale away your
daughter: My selfe am one made priuy to the plot.

I know you haue determin'd to bestow her

On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates, And should she thus be
stolne away from you, It would be much vexation to your age.

Thus (for my duties sake) I rather chose

To crosse my friend in his intended drift, Then (by concealing it) heap
on your head A pack of sorrowes, which would presse you downe (Being
vnpreuented) to your timelesse graue

Duke. Protheus, I thank thee for thine honest care, Which to
requite, command me while I liue. This loue of theirs, my selfe haue
often seene, Haply when they haue iudg'd me fast asleepe, And
oftentimes haue purpos'd to forbid

Sir Valentine her companie, and my Court. But fearing lest my iealous
ayme might erre, And so (vnworthily) disgrace the man

(A rashnesse that I euer yet haue shun'd) I gaue him gentle lookes,
thereby to finde That which thy selfe hast now disclos'd to me. And
that thou maist perceiue my feare of this, Knowing that tender youth is
soone suggested, I nightly lodge her in an vpper Towre,

The key whereof, my selfe haue euer kept: And thence she cannot be
conuay'd away

Pro. Know (noble Lord) they haue deuis'd a meane How he her
chamber-window will ascend,

And with a Corded-ladder fetch her downe: For which, the youthfull
Louer now is gone, And this way comes he with it presently.

Where (if it please you) you may intercept him. But (good my Lord) doe
it so cunningly

That my discouery be not aimed at:

For, loue of you, not hate vnto my friend, Hath made me publisher of
this pretence

Duke. Vpon mine Honor, he shall neuer know That I had any light from
thee of this

Pro. Adiew, my Lord, Sir Valentine is comming

Duk. Sir Valentine, whether away so fast?   Val. Please it your
Grace, there is a Messenger That stayes to beare my Letters to my
friends, And I am going to deliuer them

Duk. Be they of much import?

Val. The tenure of them doth but signifie My health, and happy being
at your Court

Duk. Nay then no matter: stay with me a while, I am to breake with
thee of some affaires That touch me neere: wherein thou must be secret.
'Tis not vnknown to thee, that I haue sought To match my friend Sir
Thurio, to my daughter

Val. I know it well (my Lord) and sure the Match Were rich and
honourable: besides, the gentleman Is full of Vertue, Bounty, Worth,
and Qualities Beseeming such a Wife, as your faire daughter: Cannot
your Grace win her to fancie him?

Duk. No, trust me, She is peeuish, sullen, froward, Prowd,
disobedient, stubborne, lacking duty, Neither regarding that she is my
childe,

Nor fearing me, as if I were her father:

And may I say to thee, this pride of hers (Vpon aduice) hath drawne my
loue from her, And where I thought the remnant of mine age Should haue
beene cherish'd by her child-like dutie, I now am full resolu'd to take
a wife,

And turne her out, to who will take her in: Then let her beauty be her
wedding dowre: For me, and my possessions she esteemes not

Val. What would your Grace haue me to do in this?   Duk. There is a
Lady in Verona heere

Whom I affect: but she is nice, and coy,

And naught esteemes my aged eloquence.

Now therefore would I haue thee to my Tutor (For long agone I haue
forgot to court,

Besides the fashion of the time is chang'd) How, and which way I may
bestow my selfe

To be regarded in her sun-bright eye

Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words, Dumbe Iewels
often in their silent kinde

More then quicke words, doe moue a womans minde

Duk. But she did scorne a present that I sent her,   Val. A woman
somtime scorns what best co[n]tents her. Send her another: neuer giue
her ore,

For scorne at first, makes after-loue the more. If she doe frowne, 'tis
not in hate of you, But rather to beget more loue in you.

If she doe chide, 'tis not to haue you gone, For why, the fooles are
mad, if left alone. Take no repulse, what euer she doth say,

For, get you gon, she doth not meane away. Flatter, and praise,
commend, extoll their graces: Though nere so blacke, say they haue
Angells faces, That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man, If with
his tongue he cannot win a woman

Duk. But she I meane, is promis'd by her friends Vnto a youthfull
Gentleman of worth,

And kept seuerely from resort of men,

That no man hath accesse by day to her

Val. Why then I would resort to her by night

Duk. I, but the doores be lockt, and keyes kept safe, That no man
hath recourse to her by night

Val. What letts but one may enter at her window?   Duk. Her chamber
is aloft, far from the ground, And built so sheluing, that one cannot
climbe it Without apparant hazard of his life

Val. Why then a Ladder quaintly made of Cords To cast vp, with a
paire of anchoring hookes, Would serue to scale another Hero's towre,
So bold Leander would aduenture it

Duk. Now as thou art a Gentleman of blood Aduise me, where I may
haue such a Ladder

Val. When would you vse it? pray sir, tell me that

Duk. This very night; for Loue is like a childe That longs for euery
thing that he can come by

Val. By seauen a clock, ile get you such a Ladder

Duk But harke thee: I will goe to her alone, How shall I best conuey
the Ladder thither?   Val. It will be light (my Lord) that you may
beare it Vnder a cloake, that is of any length

Duk. A cloake as long as thine will serue the turne?   Val. I my
good Lord

Duk. Then let me see thy cloake,

Ile get me one of such another length

Val. Why any cloake will serue the turn (my Lord)   Duk. How shall I
fashion me to weare a cloake? I pray thee let me feele thy cloake vpon
me. What Letter is this same? what's here? to Siluia? And heere an
Engine fit for my proceeding, Ile be so bold to breake the seale for
once. My thoughts do harbour with my Siluia nightly, And slaues they
are to me, that send them flying. Oh, could their Master come, and goe
as lightly, Himselfe would lodge where (senceles) they are lying. My
Herald Thoughts, in thy pure bosome rest-them, While I (their King)
that thither them importune Doe curse the grace, that with such grace
hath blest them, Because my selfe doe want my seruants fortune. I curse
my selfe, for they are sent by me, That they should harbour where their
Lord should be. What's here? Siluia, this night I will enfranchise
thee. 'Tis so: and heere's the Ladder for the purpose. Why Phaeton (for
thou art Merops sonne)

Wilt thou aspire to guide the heauenly Car? And with thy daring folly
burne the world? Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee? Goe
base Intruder, ouer-weening Slaue,

Bestow thy fawning smiles on equall mates, And thinke my patience,
(more then thy desert) Is priuiledge for thy departure hence.

Thanke me for this, more then for all the fauors Which (all too-much) I
haue bestowed on thee. But if thou linger in my Territories

Longer then swiftest expedition

Will giue thee time to leaue our royall Court, By heauen, my wrath
shall farre exceed the loue I euer bore my daughter, or thy selfe.

Be gone, I will not heare thy vaine excuse, But as thou lou'st thy
life, make speed from hence

Val. And why not death, rather then liuing torment? To die, is to be
banisht from my selfe,

And Siluia is my selfe: banish'd from her Is selfe from selfe. A deadly
banishment: What light, is light, if Siluia be not seene? What ioy is
ioy, if Siluia be not by?

Vnlesse it be to thinke that she is by

And feed vpon the shadow of perfection.

Except I be by Siluia in the night,

There is no musicke in the Nightingale.

Vnlesse I looke on Siluia in the day,

There is no day for me to looke vpon.

Shee is my essence, and I leaue to be;

If I be not by her faire influence

Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept aliue. I flie not death, to flie
his deadly doome, Tarry I heere, I but attend on death,

But flie I hence, I flie away from life

Pro. Run (boy) run, run, and seeke him out

Lau. So-hough, Soa hough-

Pro. What seest thou?

Lau. Him we goe to finde,

There's not a haire on's head, but 'tis a Valentine

Pro. Valentine?

Val. No

Pro. Who then? his Spirit?

Val. Neither,

Pro. What then?

Val. Nothing

Lau. Can nothing speake? Master, shall I strike?   Pro. Who wouldst
thou strike?

Lau. Nothing

Pro. Villaine, forbeare

Lau. Why Sir, Ile strike nothing: I pray you

Pro. Sirha, I say forbeare: friend Valentine, a word

Val. My eares are stopt, & cannot hear good newes, So much of bad
already hath possest them

Pro. Then in dumbe silence will I bury mine, For they are harsh,
vn-tuneable, and bad

Val. Is Siluia dead?

Pro. No, Valentine

Val. No Valentine indeed, for sacred Siluia, Hath she forsworne me?

Pro. No, Valentine

Val. No Valentine, if Siluia haue forsworne me. What is your newes?

Lau. Sir, there is a proclamation, y you are vanished

Pro. That thou art banish'd: oh that's the newes, From hence, from
Siluia, and from me thy friend

Val. Oh, I haue fed vpon this woe already, And now excesse of it
will make me surfet. Doth Siluia know that I am banish'd?

Pro. I, I: and she hath offered to the doome (Which vn-reuerst stands
in effectuall force) A Sea of melting pearle, which some call teares;
Those at her fathers churlish feete she tenderd, With them vpon her
knees, her humble selfe, Wringing her hands, whose whitenes so became
them, As if but now they waxed pale for woe:

But neither bended knees, pure hands held vp, Sad sighes, deepe grones,
nor siluer-shedding teares Could penetrate her vncompassionate Sire;
But Valentine, if he be tane, must die.

Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so,

When she for thy repeale was suppliant,

That to close prison he commanded her,

With many bitter threats of biding there

Val. No more: vnles the next word that thou speak'st Haue some
malignant power vpon my life:

If so: I pray thee breath it in mine eare, As ending Antheme of my
endlesse dolor

Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not helpe, And study helpe
for that which thou lament'st, Time is the Nurse, and breeder of all
good; Here, if thou stay, thou canst not see thy loue: Besides, thy
staying will abridge thy life: Hope is a louers staffe, walke hence
with that And manage it, against despairing thoughts: Thy letters may
be here, though thou art hence, Which, being writ to me, shall be
deliuer'd Euen in the milke-white bosome of thy Loue. The time now
serues not to expostulate,

Come, Ile conuey thee through the City-gate. And ere I part with thee,
confer at large Of all that may concerne thy Loue-affaires: As thou
lou'st Siluia (though not for thy selfe) Regard thy danger, and along
with me

Val. I pray thee Launce, and if thou seest my Boy Bid him make
haste, and meet me at the North-gate

Pro. Goe sirha, finde him out: Come Valentine

Val. Oh my deere Siluia; haplesse Valentine

Launce. I am but a foole, looke you, and yet I haue the wit to
thinke my Master is a kinde of a knaue: but that's all one, if he be
but one knaue: He liues not now that knowes me to be in loue, yet I am
in loue, but a Teeme of horse shall not plucke that from me: nor who
'tis I loue: and yet 'tis a woman; but what woman, I will not tell my
selfe: and yet 'tis a Milke-maid: yet 'tis not a maid: for shee hath
had Gossips: yet 'tis a maid, for she is her Masters maid, and serues
for wages. Shee hath more qualities then a Water-Spaniell, which is
much in a bare Christian: Heere is the Catelog of her Condition.
Inprimis. Shee can fetch and carry: why a horse can doe no more; nay, a
horse cannot fetch, but onely carry, therefore is shee better then a
Iade. Item. She can milke, looke you, a sweet vertue in a maid with
cleane hands

Speed. How now Signior Launce? what newes with your Mastership?

La. With my Mastership? why, it is at Sea:   Sp. Well, your old vice
still: mistake the word: what newes then in your paper?

La. The black'st newes that euer thou heard'st

Sp. Why man? how blacke?

La. Why, as blacke as Inke

Sp. Let me read them?

La. Fie on thee Iolt-head, thou canst not read

Sp. Thou lyest: I can

La. I will try thee: tell me this: who begot thee?   Sp. Marry, the
son of my Grand-father

La. Oh illiterate loyterer; it was the sonne of thy Grand-mother:
this proues that thou canst not read

Sp. Come foole, come: try me in thy paper

La. There: and S[aint]. Nicholas be thy speed

Sp. Inprimis she can milke

La. I that she can

Sp. Item, she brewes good Ale

La. And thereof comes the prouerbe: (Blessing of your heart, you
brew good Ale.)

Sp. Item, she can sowe

La. That's as much as to say (Can she so?)   Sp. Item she can knit

La. What neede a man care for a stock with a wench, When she can
knit him a stocke?

Sp. Item, she can wash and scoure

La. A speciall vertue: for then shee neede not be wash'd, and
scowr'd

Sp. Item, she can spin

La. Then may I set the world on wheeles, when she can spin for her
liuing

Sp. Item, she hath many namelesse vertues

La. That's as much as to say Bastard-vertues: that indeede know not
their fathers; and therefore haue no names

Sp. Here follow her vices

La. Close at the heeles of her vertues

Sp. Item, shee is not to be fasting in respect of her breath

La. Well: that fault may be mended with a breakfast: read on

Sp. Item, she hath a sweet mouth

La. That makes amends for her soure breath

Sp. Item, she doth talke in her sleepe

La. It's no matter for that; so shee sleepe not in her talke

Sp. Item, she is slow in words

La. Oh villaine, that set this downe among her vices; To be slow in
words, is a womans onely vertue: I pray thee out with't, and place it
for her chiefe vertue

Sp. Item, she is proud

La. Out with that too:

It was Eues legacie, and cannot be t'ane from her

Sp. Item, she hath no teeth

La. I care not for that neither: because I loue crusts

Sp. Item, she is curst

La. Well: the best is, she hath no teeth to bite

Sp. Item, she will often praise her liquor

La. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I will; for
good things should be praised

Sp. Item, she is too liberall

La. Of her tongue she cannot; for that's writ downe she is slow of:
of her purse, shee shall not, for that ile keepe shut: Now, of another
thing shee may, and that cannot I helpe. Well, proceede

Sp. Item, shee hath more haire then wit, and more faults then
haires, and more wealth then faults

La. Stop there: Ile haue her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or
thrice in that last Article: rehearse that once more

Sp. Item, she hath more haire then wit

La. More haire then wit: it may be ile proue it: The couer of the
salt, hides the salt, and therefore it is more then the salt; the haire
that couers the wit, is more then the wit; for the greater hides the
lesse: What's next?

Sp. And more faults then haires

La. That's monstrous: oh that that were out

Sp. And more wealth then faults

La. Why that word makes the faults gracious: Well, ile haue her: and
if it be a match, as nothing is impossible

Sp. What then?

La. Why then, will I tell thee, that thy Master staies for thee at
the North gate

Sp. For me?

La. For thee? I, who art thou? he hath staid for a better man then
thee

Sp. And must I goe to him?

La. Thou must run to him; for thou hast staid so long, that going
will scarce serue the turne

Sp. Why didst not tell me sooner? 'pox of your loue Letters

La. Now will he be swing'd for reading my Letter; An vnmannerly
slaue, that will thrust himselfe into secrets: Ile after, to reioyce in
the boyes correctio[n].

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus.

Du. Sir Thurio, feare not, but that she will loue you Now Valentine
is banish'd from her sight

Th. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most, Forsworne my company,
and rail'd at me,

That I am desperate of obtaining her

Du. This weake impresse of Loue, is as a figure Trenched in ice,
which with an houres heate Dissolues to water, and doth loose his
forme. A little time will melt her frozen thoughts, And worthlesse
Valentine shall be forgot. How now sir Protheus, is your countriman

(According to our Proclamation) gon?

Pro. Gon, my good Lord

Du. My daughter takes his going grieuously?   Pro. A little time (my
Lord) will kill that griefe

Du. So I beleeue: but Thurio thinkes not so: Protheus, the good
conceit I hold of thee, (For thou hast showne some signe of good
desert) Makes me the better to confer with thee

Pro. Longer then I proue loyall to your Grace, Let me not liue, to
looke vpon your Grace

Du. Thou know'st how willingly, I would effect The match betweene
sir Thurio, and my daughter?   Pro. I doe my Lord

Du. And also, I thinke, thou art not ignorant How she opposes her
against my will?

Pro. She did my Lord, when Valentine was here

Du. I, and peruersly, she perseuers so: What might we doe to make
the girle forget The loue of Valentine, and loue sir Thurio?   Pro. The
best way is, to slander Valentine, With falsehood, cowardize, and poore
discent: Three things, that women highly hold in hate

Du. I, but she'll thinke, that it is spoke in hate

Pro. I, if his enemy deliuer it.

Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken By one, whom she
esteemeth as his friend

Du. Then you must vndertake to slander him

Pro. And that (my Lord) I shall be loath to doe: 'Tis an ill office
for a Gentleman,

Especially against his very friend

Du. Where your good word cannot aduantage him, Your slander neuer
can endamage him;

Therefore the office is indifferent,

Being intreated to it by your friend

Pro. You haue preuail'd (my Lord) if I can doe it By ought that I
can speake in his dispraise, She shall not long continue loue to him:

But say this weede her loue from Valentine, It followes not that she
will loue sir Thurio

Th. Therefore, as you vnwinde her loue from him; Least it should
rauell, and be good to none, You must prouide to bottome it on me:

Which must be done, by praising me as much As you, in worth dispraise,
sir Valentine

Du. And Protheus, we dare trust you in this kinde, Because we know
(on Valentines report)

You are already loues firme votary,

And cannot soone reuolt, and change your minde. Vpon this warrant,
shall you haue accesse, Where you, with Siluia, may conferre at large.
For she is lumpish, heauy, mellancholly,

And (for your friends sake) will be glad of you; Where you may temper
her, by your perswasion, To hate yong Valentine, and loue my friend

Pro. As much as I can doe, I will effect: But you sir Thurio, are
not sharpe enough: You must lay Lime, to tangle her desires

By walefull Sonnets, whose composed Rimes Should be full fraught with
seruiceable vowes

Du. I, much is the force of heauen-bred Poesie

Pro. Say that vpon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your
teares, your sighes, your heart: Write till your inke be dry: and with
your teares Moist it againe: and frame some feeling line, That may
discouer such integrity:

For Orpheus Lute, was strung with Poets sinewes, Whose golden touch
could soften steele and stones; Make Tygers tame, and huge Leuiathans

Forsake vnsounded deepes, to dance on Sands. After your dire-lamenting
Elegies,

Visit by night your Ladies chamber-window With some sweet Consort; To
their Instruments Tune a deploring dumpe: the nights dead silence Will
well become such sweet complaining grieuance: This, or else nothing,
will inherit her

Du. This discipline, showes thou hast bin in loue

Th. And thy aduice, this night, ile put in practise: Therefore,
sweet Protheus, my direction-giuer, Let vs into the City presently

To sort some Gentlemen, well skil'd in Musicke. I haue a Sonnet, that
will serue the turne To giue the on-set to thy good aduise

Du. About it Gentlemen

Pro. We'll wait vpon your Grace, till after Supper, And afterward
determine our proceedings

Du. Euen now about it, I will pardon you.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Valentine, Speed, and certaine Out-lawes.

1.Outl. Fellowes, stand fast: I see a passenger

2.Out. If there be ten, shrinke not, but down with 'em

3.Out. Stand sir, and throw vs that you haue about 'ye. If not:
we'll make you sit, and rifle you

Sp. Sir we are vndone; these are the Villaines That all the
Trauailers doe feare so much

Val. My friends

1.Out. That's not so, sir: we are your enemies

2.Out. Peace: we'll heare him

3.Out. I by my beard will we: for he is a proper man

Val. Then know that I haue little wealth to loose; A man I am,
cross'd with aduersitie:

My riches, are these poore habiliments,

Of which, if you should here disfurnish me, You take the sum and
substance that I haue

2.Out. Whether trauell you?

Val. To Verona

1.Out. Whence came you?

Val. From Millaine

3.Out. Haue you long soiourn'd there?

Val. Some sixteene moneths, and longer might haue staid, If crooked
fortune had not thwarted me

1.Out. What, were you banish'd thence?   Val. I was

2.Out. For what offence?

Val. For that which now torments me to rehearse; I kil'd a man, whose
death I much repent, But yet I slew him manfully, in fight,

Without false vantage, or base treachery

1.Out. Why nere repent it, if it were done so; But were you banisht
for so small a fault?   Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doome

2.Out. Haue you the Tongues?

Val. My youthfull trauaile, therein made me happy, Or else I often
had beene often miserable

3.Out. By the bare scalpe of Robin Hoods fat Fryer, This fellow were
a King, for our wilde faction

1.Out. We'll haue him: Sirs, a word

Sp. Master, be one of them:

It's an honourable kinde of theeuery

Val. Peace villaine

2.Out. Tell vs this: haue you any thing to take to?   Val. Nothing
but my fortune

3.Out. Know then, that some of vs are Gentlemen, Such as the fury of
vngouern'd youth

Thrust from the company of awfull men.

My selfe was from Verona banished,

For practising to steale away a Lady,

And heire and Neece, alide vnto the Duke

2.Out. And I from Mantua, for a Gentleman, Who, in my moode, I
stab'd vnto the heart

1.Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as these. But to the
purpose: for we cite our faults, That they may hold excus'd our
lawlesse liues; And partly seeing you are beautifide

With goodly shape; and by your owne report, A Linguist, and a man of
such perfection, As we doe in our quality much want

2.Out. Indeede because you are a banish'd man, Therefore, aboue the
rest, we parley to you: Are you content to be our Generall?

To make a vertue of necessity,

And liue as we doe in this wildernesse?

3.Out. What saist thou? wilt thou be of our consort? Say I, and be
the captaine of vs all:

We'll doe thee homage, and be rul'd by thee, Loue thee, as our
Commander, and our King

1.Out. But if thou scorne our curtesie, thou dyest

2.Out. Thou shalt not liue, to brag what we haue offer'd

Val. I take your offer, and will liue with you, Prouided that you do
no outrages

On silly women, or poore passengers

3.Out. No, we detest such vile base practises. Come, goe with vs,
we'll bring thee to our Crewes, And show thee all the Treasure we haue
got; Which, with our selues, all rest at thy dispose.

Exeunt.



Scoena Secunda.

Enter Protheus, Thurio, Iulia, Host, Musitian, Siluia.

Pro. Already haue I bin false to Valentine, And now I must be as
vniust to Thurio,

Vnder the colour of commending him,

I haue accesse my owne loue to prefer.

But Siluia is too faire, too true, too holy, To be corrupted with my
worthlesse guifts; When I protest true loyalty to her,

She twits me with my falsehood to my friend; When to her beauty I
commend my vowes,

She bids me thinke how I haue bin forsworne In breaking faith with
Iulia, whom I lou'd; And notwithstanding all her sodaine quips, The
least whereof would quell a louers hope: Yet (Spaniel-like) the more
she spurnes my loue, The more it growes, and fawneth on her still; But
here comes Thurio; now must we to her window, And giue some euening
Musique to her eare

Th. How now, sir Protheus, are you crept before vs?   Pro. I gentle
Thurio, for you know that loue Will creepe in seruice, where it cannot
goe

Th. I, but I hope, Sir, that you loue not here

Pro. Sir, but I doe: or else I would be hence

Th. Who, Siluia?

Pro. I, Siluia, for your sake

Th. I thanke you for your owne: Now Gentlemen Let's tune: and too it
lustily a while

Ho. Now, my yong guest; me thinks your' allycholly; I pray you why
is it?

Iu. Marry (mine Host) because I cannot be merry

Ho. Come, we'll haue you merry: ile bring you where you shall heare
Musique, and see the Gentleman that you ask'd for

Iu. But shall I heare him speake

Ho. I that you shall

Iu. That will be Musique

Ho. Harke, harke

Iu. Is he among these?

Ho. I: but peace, let's heare'm

Song. Who is Siluia? what is she?

That all our Swaines commend her?

Holy, faire, and wise is she,

The heauen such grace did lend her,

that she might admired be.

Is she kinde as she is faire?

For beauty liues with kindnesse:

Loue doth to her eyes repaire,

To helpe him of his blindnesse:

And being help'd, inhabits there.

Then to Siluia, let vs sing,

That Siluia is excelling;

She excels each mortall thing

Vpon the dull earth dwelling.

To her let vs Garlands bring

Ho. How now? are you sadder then you were before; How doe you, man?
the Musicke likes you not

Iu. You mistake: the Musitian likes me not

Ho. Why, my pretty youth?

Iu. He plaies false (father.)

Ho. How, out of tune on the strings

Iu. Not so: but yet

So false that he grieues my very heart-strings

Ho. You haue a quicke eare

Iu. I, I would I were deafe: it makes me haue a slow heart

Ho. I perceiue you delight not in Musique

Iu. Not a whit, when it iars so

Ho. Harke, what fine change is in the Musique

Iu. I: that change is the spight

Ho. You would haue them alwaies play but one thing

Iu. I would alwaies haue one play but one thing. But Host, doth this
Sir Protheus, that we talke on, Often resort vnto this Gentlewoman?

Ho. I tell you what Launce his man told me, He lou'd her out of all
nicke

Iu. Where is Launce?

Ho. Gone to seeke his dog, which to morrow, by his Masters command,
hee must carry for a present to his Lady

Iu. Peace, stand aside, the company parts

Pro. Sir Thurio, feare not you, I will so pleade, That you shall
say, my cunning drift excels

Th. Where meete we?

Pro. At Saint Gregories well

Th. Farewell

Pro. Madam: good eu'n to your Ladiship

Sil. I thanke you for your Musique (Gentlemen) Who is that that
spake?

Pro. One (Lady) if you knew his pure hearts truth, You would quickly
learne to know him by his voice

Sil. Sir Protheus, as I take it

Pro. Sir Protheus (gentle Lady) and your Seruant

Sil. What's your will?

Pro. That I may compasse yours

Sil. You haue your wish: my will is euen this, That presently you
hie you home to bed:

Thou subtile, periur'd, false, disloyall man: Think'st thou I am so
shallow, so conceitlesse, To be seduced by thy flattery,

That has't deceiu'd so many with thy vowes? Returne, returne, and make
thy loue amends: For me (by this pale queene of night I sweare) I am so
farre from granting thy request,

That I despise thee, for thy wrongfull suite; And by and by intend to
chide my selfe,

Euen for this time I spend in talking to thee

Pro. I grant (sweet loue) that I did loue a Lady, But she is dead

Iu. 'Twere false, if I should speake it; For I am sure she is not
buried

Sil. Say that she be: yet Valentine thy friend Suruiues; to whom
(thy selfe art witnesse) I am betroth'd; and art thou not asham'd

To wrong him, with thy importunacy?

Pro. I likewise heare that Valentine is dead

Sil. And so suppose am I; for in her graue Assure thy selfe, my loue
is buried

Pro. Sweet Lady, let me rake it from the earth

Sil. Goe to thy Ladies graue and call hers thence, Or at the least,
in hers, sepulcher thine

Iul. He heard not that

Pro. Madam: if your heart be so obdurate: Vouchsafe me yet your
Picture for my loue, The Picture that is hanging in your chamber: To
that ile speake, to that ile sigh and weepe: For since the substance of
your perfect selfe Is else deuoted, I am but a shadow;

And to your shadow, will I make true loue

Iul. If 'twere a substance you would sure deceiue it, And make it
but a shadow, as I am

Sil. I am very loath to be your Idoll Sir; But, since your falsehood
shall become you well To worship shadowes, and adore false shapes, Send
to me in the morning, and ile send it: And so, good rest

Pro. As wretches haue ore-night

That wait for execution in the morne

Iul. Host, will you goe?

Ho. By my hallidome, I was fast asleepe

Iul. Pray you, where lies Sir Protheus?   Ho. Marry, at my house:

Trust me, I thinke 'tis almost day

Iul. Not so: but it hath bin the longest night That ere I watch'd,
and the most heauiest.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Eglamore, Siluia.

Eg. This is the houre that Madam Siluia Entreated me to call, and
know her minde: Ther's some great matter she'ld employ me in. Madam,
Madam

Sil. Who cals?

Eg. Your seruant, and your friend;

One that attends your Ladiships command

Sil. Sir Eglamore, a thousand times good morrow

Eg. As many (worthy Lady) to your selfe: According to your Ladiships
impose,

I am thus early come, to know what seruice It is your pleasure to
command me in

Sil. Oh Eglamoure, thou art a Gentleman: Thinke not I flatter (for I
sweare I doe not) Valiant, wise, remorse-full, well accomplish'd. Thou
art not ignorant what deere good will I beare vnto the banish'd
Valentine:

Nor how my father would enforce me marry

Vaine Thurio (whom my very soule abhor'd.)

Thy selfe hast lou'd, and I haue heard thee say No griefe did euer come
so neere thy heart, As when thy Lady, and thy true-loue dide, Vpon
whose Graue thou vow'dst pure chastitie: Sir Eglamoure: I would to
Valentine

To Mantua, where I heare, he makes aboad; And for the waies are
dangerous to passe, I doe desire thy worthy company,

Vpon whose faith and honor, I repose.

Vrge not my fathers anger (Eglamoure)

But thinke vpon my griefe (a Ladies griefe) And on the iustice of my
flying hence,

To keepe me from a most vnholy match,

Which heauen and fortune still rewards with plagues. I doe desire thee,
euen from a heart

As full of sorrowes, as the Sea of sands, To beare me company, and goe
with me:

If not, to hide what I haue said to thee, That I may venture to depart
alone

Egl. Madam, I pitty much your grieuances, Which, since I know they
vertuously are plac'd, I giue consent to goe along with you,

Wreaking as little what betideth me,

As much, I wish all good befortune you.

When will you goe?

Sil. This euening comming

Eg. Where shall I meete you?

Sil. At Frier Patrickes Cell,

Where I intend holy Confession

Eg. I will not faile your Ladiship:

Good morrow (gentle Lady.)

Sil. Good morrow, kinde Sir Eglamoure.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Launce, Protheus, Iulia, Siluia.

Lau. When a mans seruant shall play the Curre with him (looke you) it
goes hard: one that I brought vp of a puppy: one that I sau'd from
drowning, when three or foure of his blinde brothers and sisters went
to it: I haue taught him (euen as one would say precisely, thus I would
teach a dog) I was sent to deliuer him, as a present to Mistris Siluia,
from my Master; and I came no sooner into the dyning-chamber, but he
steps me to her Trencher, and steales her Capons-leg: O, 'tis a foule
thing, when a Cur cannot keepe himselfe in all companies: I would haue
(as one should say) one that takes vpon him to be a dog indeede, to be,
as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit then he, to
take a fault vpon me that he did, I thinke verily hee had bin hang'd
for't: sure as I liue he had suffer'd for't: you shall iudge: Hee
thrusts me himselfe into the company of three or foure
gentleman-like-dogs, vnder the Dukes table: hee had not bin there
(blesse the marke) a pissing while, but all the chamber smelt him: out
with the dog (saies one) what cur is that (saies another) whip him out
(saies the third) hang him vp (saies the Duke.) I hauing bin acquainted
with the smell before, knew it was Crab; and goes me to the fellow that
whips the dogges: friend (quoth I) you meane to whip the dog: I marry
doe I (quoth he) you doe him the more wrong (quoth I) 'twas I did the
thing you wot of: he makes me no more adoe, but whips me out of the
chamber: how many Masters would doe this for his Seruant? nay, ile be
sworne I haue sat in the stockes, for puddings he hath stolne,
otherwise he had bin executed: I haue stood on the Pillorie for Geese
he hath kil'd, otherwise he had sufferd for't: thou think'st not of
this now: nay, I remember the tricke you seru'd me, when I tooke my
leaue of Madam Siluia: did not I bid thee still marke me, and doe as I
do; when did'st thou see me heaue vp my leg, and make water against a
Gentlewomans farthingale? did'st thou euer see me doe such a tricke?

Pro. Sebastian is thy name: I like thee well, And will imploy thee in
some seruice presently

Iu. In what you please, ile doe what I can

Pro. I hope thou wilt.

How now you whorson pezant,

Where haue you bin these two dayes loytering?   La. Marry Sir, I
carried Mistris Siluia the dogge you bad me

Pro. And what saies she to my little Iewell?   La. Marry she saies
your dog was a cur, and tels you currish thanks is good enough for such
a present

Pro. But she receiu'd my dog?

La. No indeede did she not:

Here haue I brought him backe againe

Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me?   La. I Sir, the other
Squirrill was stolne from me By the Hangmans boyes in the market place,
And then I offer'd her mine owne, who is a dog As big as ten of yours,
& therefore the guift the greater

Pro. Goe, get thee hence, and finde my dog againe, Or nere returne
againe into my sight.

Away, I say: stayest thou to vexe me here; A Slaue, that still an end,
turnes me to shame: Sebastian, I haue entertained thee,

Partly that I haue neede of such a youth, That can with some discretion
doe my businesse: For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish Lowt; But
chiefely, for thy face, and thy behauiour, Which (if my Augury deceiue
me not)

Witnesse good bringing vp, fortune, and truth: Therefore know thee, for
this I entertaine thee. Go presently, and take this Ring with thee,
Deliuer it to Madam Siluia;

She lou'd me well, deliuer'd it to me

Iul. It seemes you lou'd not her, not leaue her token: She is dead
belike?

Pro. Not so: I thinke she liues

Iul. Alas

Pro. Why do'st thou cry alas?

Iul. I cannot choose but pitty her

Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pitty her?   Iul. Because, me thinkes
that she lou'd you as well As you doe loue your Lady Siluia:

She dreames on him, that has forgot her loue, You doate on her, that
cares not for your loue. 'Tis pitty Loue, should be so contrary:

And thinking on it, makes me cry alas

Pro. Well: giue her that Ring, and therewithall This Letter: that's
her chamber: Tell my Lady, I claime the promise for her heauenly
Picture: Your message done, hye home vnto my chamber, Where thou shalt
finde me sad, and solitarie

Iul. How many women would doe such a message? Alas poore Protheus,
thou hast entertain'd A Foxe, to be the Shepheard of thy Lambs; Alas,
poore foole, why doe I pitty him

That with his very heart despiseth me?

Because he loues her, he despiseth me,

Because I loue him, I must pitty him.

This Ring I gaue him, when he parted from me, To binde him to remember
my good will:

And now am I (vnhappy Messenger)

To plead for that, which I would not obtaine; To carry that, which I
would haue refus'd; To praise his faith, which I would haue disprais'd.
I am my Masters true confirmed Loue,

But cannot be true seruant to my Master,

Vnlesse I proue false traitor to my selfe. Yet will I woe for him, but
yet so coldly, As (heauen it knowes) I would not haue him speed.
Gentlewoman, good day: I pray you be my meane To bring me where to
speake with Madam Siluia

Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she?   Iul. If you be
she, I doe intreat your patience To heare me speake the message I am
sent on

Sil. From whom?

Iul. From my Master, Sir Protheus, Madam

Sil. Oh: he sends you for a Picture?

Iul. I, Madam

Sil. Vrsula, bring my Picture there,

Goe, giue your Master this: tell him from me, One Iulia, that his
changing thoughts forget Would better fit his Chamber, then this
Shadow

Iul. Madam, please you peruse this Letter; Pardon me (Madam) I haue
vnaduis'd

Deliuer'd you a paper that I should not;

This is the Letter to your Ladiship

Sil. I pray thee let me looke on that againe

Iul. It may not be: good Madam pardon me

Sil. There, hold:

I will not looke vpon your Masters lines: I know they are stuft with
protestations, And full of new-found oathes, which he will breake As
easily, as I doe teare his paper

Iul. Madam, he sends your Ladiship this Ring

Sil. The more shame for him, that he sends it me; For I haue heard
him say a thousand times, His Iulia gaue it him, at his departure:

Though his false finger haue prophan'd the Ring, Mine shall not doe his
Iulia so much wrong

Iul. She thankes you

Sil. What sai'st thou?

Iul. I thanke you Madam, that you tender her: Poore Gentlewoman, my
Master wrongs her much

Sil. Do'st thou know her?

Iul. Almost as well as I doe know my selfe. To thinke vpon her woes,
I doe protest

That I haue wept a hundred seuerall times

Sil. Belike she thinks that Protheus hath forsook her?   Iul. I
thinke she doth: and that's her cause of sorrow

Sil. Is she not passing faire?

Iul. She hath bin fairer (Madam) then she is, When she did thinke my
Master lou'd her well; She, in my iudgement, was as faire as you. But
since she did neglect her looking-glasse, And threw her Sun-expelling
Masque away,

The ayre hath staru'd the roses in her cheekes, And pinch'd the
lilly-tincture of her face, That now she is become as blacke as I

Sil. How tall was she?

Iul. About my stature: for at Pentecost, When all our Pageants of
delight were plaid, Our youth got me to play the womans part, And I was
trim'd in Madam Iulias gowne,

Which serued me as fit, by all mens iudgements, As if the garment had
bin made for me:

Therefore I know she is about my height,

And at that time I made her weepe a good, For I did play a lamentable
part.

(Madam) 'twas Ariadne, passioning

For Thesus periury, and vniust flight;

Which I so liuely acted with my teares:

That my poore Mistris moued therewithall, Wept bitterly: and would I
might be dead, If I in thought felt not her very sorrow

Sil. She is beholding to thee (gentle youth) Alas (poore Lady)
desolate, and left;

I weepe my selfe to thinke vpon thy words: Here youth: there is my
purse; I giue thee this For thy sweet Mistris sake, because thou lou'st
her. Farewell

Iul. And she shall thanke you for't, if ere you know her. A vertuous
gentlewoman, milde, and beautifull. I hope my Masters suit will be but
cold,

Since she respects my Mistris loue so much. Alas, how loue can trifle
with it selfe:

Here is her Picture: let me see, I thinke If I had such a Tyre, this
face of mine

Were full as louely, as is this of hers;

And yet the Painter flatter'd her a little, Vnlesse I flatter with my
selfe too much. Her haire is Aburne, mine is perfect Yellow; If that be
all the difference in his loue, Ile get me such a coulour'd Perrywig:

Her eyes are grey as glasse, and so are mine. I, but her fore-head's
low, and mine's as high: What should it be that he respects in her, But
I can make respectiue in my selfe?

If this fond Loue, were not a blinded god. Come shadow, come, and take
this shadow vp, For 'tis thy riuall: O thou sencelesse forme, Thou
shalt be worship'd, kiss'd, lou'd, and ador'd; And were there sence in
his Idolatry,

My substance should be statue in thy stead. Ile vse thee kindly, for
thy Mistris sake That vs'd me so: or else by Ioue, I vow,

I should haue scratch'd out your vnseeing eyes, To make my Master out
of loue with thee.

Exeunt.



Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Eglamoure, Siluia.

Egl. The Sun begins to guild the westerne skie, And now it is about
the very houre

That Siluia, at Fryer Patricks Cell should meet me, She will not faile;
for Louers breake not houres, Vnlesse it be to come before their time,

So much they spur their expedition.

See where she comes: Lady a happy euening

Sil. Amen, Amen: goe on (good Eglamoure) Out at the Posterne by the
Abbey wall;

I feare I am attended by some Spies

Egl. Feare not: the Forrest is not three leagues off, If we recouer
that, we are sure enough.

Exeunt.



Scoena Secunda.

Enter Thurio, Protheus, Iulia, Duke.

Th. Sir Protheus, what saies Siluia to my suit?   Pro. Oh Sir, I
finde her milder then she was, And yet she takes exceptions at your
person

Thu. What? that my leg is too long?

Pro. No, that it is too little

Thu. Ile weare a Boote, to make it somewhat rounder

Pro. But loue will not be spurd to what it loathes

Thu. What saies she to my face?

Pro. She saies it is a faire one

Thu. Nay then the wanton lyes: my face is blacke

Pro. But Pearles are faire; and the old saying is, Blacke men are
Pearles, in beauteous Ladies eyes

Thu. 'Tis true, such Pearles as put out Ladies eyes, For I had
rather winke, then looke on them

Thu. How likes she my discourse?

Pro. Ill, when you talke of war

Thu. But well, when I discourse of loue and peace

Iul. But better indeede, when you hold you peace

Thu. What sayes she to my valour?

Pro. Oh Sir, she makes no doubt of that

Iul. She needes not, when she knowes it cowardize

Thu. What saies she to my birth?

Pro. That you are well deriu'd

Iul. True: from a Gentleman, to a foole

Thu. Considers she my Possessions?

Pro. Oh, I: and pitties them

Thu. Wherefore?

Iul. That such an Asse should owe them

Pro. That they are out by Lease

Iul. Here comes the Duke

Du. How now sir Protheus; how now Thurio? Which of you saw Eglamoure
of late?

Thu. Not I

Pro. Nor I

Du. Saw you my daughter?

Pro. Neither

Du. Why then

She's fled vnto that pezant, Valentine;

And Eglamoure is in her Company:

'Tis true: for Frier Laurence met them both As he, in pennance wander'd
through the Forrest: Him he knew well: and guesd that it was she, But
being mask'd, he was not sure of it.

Besides she did intend Confession

At Patricks Cell this euen, and there she was not. These likelihoods
confirme her flight from hence; Therefore I pray you stand, not to
discourse, But mount you presently, and meete with me Vpon the rising
of the Mountaine foote

That leads toward Mantua, whether they are fled: Dispatch (sweet
Gentlemen) and follow me

Thu. Why this it is, to be a peeuish Girle, That flies her fortune
when it followes her: Ile after; more to be reueng'd on Eglamoure, Then
for the loue of reck-lesse Siluia

Pro. And I will follow, more for Siluias loue Then hate of Eglamoure
that goes with her

Iul. And I will follow, more to crosse that loue Then hate for
Siluia, that is gone for loue.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.



Siluia, Outlawes.

1.Out. Come, come be patient:

We must bring you to our Captaine

Sil. A thousand more mischances then this one Haue learn'd me how to
brooke this patiently

2 Out. Come, bring her away

1 Out. Where is the Gentleman that was with her?   3 Out. Being
nimble footed, he hath out-run vs. But Moyses and Valerius follow him:

Goe thou with her to the West end of the wood, There is our Captaine:
Wee'll follow him that's fled, The Thicket is beset, he cannot scape

1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our Captains caue. Feare not: he
beares an honourable minde, And will not vse a woman lawlesly

Sil. O Valentine: this I endure for thee.

Exeunt.



Scoena Quarta.

Enter Valentine, Protheus, Siluia, Iulia, Duke, Thurio, Outlawes.

Val. How vse doth breed a habit in a man? This shadowy desart,
vnfrequented woods

I better brooke then flourishing peopled Townes: Here can I sit alone,
vn-seene of any,

And to the Nightingales complaining Notes Tune my distresses, and
record my woes.

O thou that dost inhabit in my brest,

Leaue not the Mansion so long Tenant-lesse, Lest growing ruinous, the
building fall,

And leaue no memory of what it was,

Repaire me, with thy presence, Siluia:

Thou gentle Nimph, cherish thy forlorne swaine. What hallowing, and
what stir is this to day? These are my mates, that make their wills
their Law, Haue some vnhappy passenger in chace;

They loue me well: yet I haue much to doe To keepe them from vnciuill
outrages.

Withdraw thee Valentine: who's this comes heere?   Pro. Madam, this
seruice I haue done for you (Though you respect not aught your seruant
doth) To hazard life, and reskew you from him,

That would haue forc'd your honour, and your loue, Vouchsafe me for my
meed, but one faire looke: (A smaller boone then this I cannot beg,

And lesse then this, I am sure you cannot giue.)

Val. How like a dreame is this? I see, and heare: Loue, lend me
patience to forbeare a while

Sil. O miserable, vnhappy that I am

Pro. Vnhappy were you (Madam) ere I came: But by my comming, I haue
made you happy

Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me most vnhappy

Iul. And me, when he approcheth to your presence

Sil. Had I beene ceazed by a hungry Lion, I would haue beene a
breakfast to the Beast, Rather then haue false Protheus reskue me: Oh
heauen be iudge how I loue Valentine,

Whose life's as tender to me as my soule, And full as much (for more
there cannot be) I doe detest false periur'd Protheus:

Therefore be gone, sollicit me no more

Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death Would I not
vndergoe, for one calme looke: Oh 'tis the curse in Loue, and still
approu'd When women cannot loue, where they're belou'd

Sil. When Protheus cannot loue, where he's belou'd: Read ouer
Iulia's heart, (thy first best Loue) For whose deare sake, thou didst
then rend thy faith Into a thousand oathes; and all those oathes,
Descended into periury, to loue me,

Thou hast no faith left now, vnlesse thou'dst two, And that's farre
worse then none: better haue none Then plurall faith, which is too much
by one: Thou Counterfeyt, to thy true friend

Pro. In Loue,

Who respects friend?

Sil. All men but Protheus

Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of mouing words Can no way change you
to a milder forme;

Ile wooe you like a Souldier, at armes end, And loue you 'gainst the
nature of Loue: force ye

Sil. Oh heauen

Pro. Ile force thee yeeld to my desire

Val. Ruffian: let goe that rude vnciuill touch, Thou friend of an
ill fashion

Pro. Valentine

Val. Thou co[m]mon friend, that's without faith or loue, For such is
a friend now: treacherous man, Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but
mine eye Could haue perswaded me: now I dare not say I haue one friend
aliue; thou wouldst disproue me: Who should be trusted, when ones right
hand Is periured to the bosome? Protheus

I am sorry I must neuer trust thee more,

But count the world a stranger for thy sake: The priuate wound is
deepest: oh time, most accurst. 'Mongst all foes that a friend should
be the worst?   Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me:

Forgiue me Valentine: if hearty sorrow

Be a sufficient Ransome for offence,

I tender't heere: I doe as truely suffer, As ere I did commit

Val. Then I am paid:

And once againe, I doe receiue thee honest; Who by Repentance is not
satisfied,

Is nor of heauen, nor earth; for these are pleas'd: By Penitence th'
Eternalls wrath's appeas'd: And that my loue may appeare plaine and
free, All that was mine, in Siluia, I giue thee

Iul. Oh me vnhappy

Pro. Looke to the Boy

Val. Why, Boy?

Why wag: how now? what's the matter? look vp: speak

Iul. O good sir, my master charg'd me to deliuer a ring to Madam
Siluia: w (out of my neglect) was neuer done

Pro. Where is that ring? boy?

Iul. Heere 'tis: this is it

Pro. How? let me see.

Why this is the ring I gaue to Iulia

Iul. Oh, cry you mercy sir, I haue mistooke: This is the ring you
sent to Siluia

Pro. But how cam'st thou by this ring? at my depart I gaue this vnto
Iulia

Iul. And Iulia her selfe did giue it me, And Iulia her selfe hath
brought it hither

Pro. How? Iulia?

Iul. Behold her, that gaue ayme to all thy oathes, And entertain'd
'em deepely in her heart. How oft hast thou with periury cleft the
roote? Oh Protheus, let this habit make thee blush. Be thou asham'd
that I haue tooke vpon me, Such an immodest rayment; if shame liue

In a disguise of loue?

It is the lesser blot modesty findes,

Women to change their shapes, then men their minds

Pro. Then men their minds? tis true: oh heuen, were man But
Constant, he were perfect; that one error Fils him with faults: makes
him run through all th' sins; Inconstancy falls-off, ere it begins:

What is in Siluia's face, but I may spie

More fresh in Iulia's, with a constant eye?   Val. Come, come: a hand
from either:

Let me be blest to make this happy close: 'Twere pitty two such friends
should be long foes

Pro. Beare witnes (heauen) I haue my wish for euer

Iul. And I mine

Outl. A prize: a prize: a prize

Val. Forbeare, forbeare I say: It is my Lord the Duke. Your Grace is
welcome to a man disgrac'd, Banished Valentine

Duke. Sir Valentine?

Thu. Yonder is Siluia: and Siluia's mine

Val. Thurio giue backe; or else embrace thy death: Come not within
the measure of my wrath:

Doe not name Siluia thine: if once againe, Verona shall not hold thee:
heere she stands, Take but possession of her, with a Touch: I dare
thee, but to breath vpon my Loue

Thur. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I: I hold him but a foole
that will endanger His Body, for a Girle that loues him not: I claime
her not, and therefore she is thine

Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou To make such meanes for
her, as thou hast done, And leaue her on such slight conditions.

Now, by the honor of my Ancestry,

I doe applaud thy spirit, Valentine,

And thinke thee worthy of an Empresse loue: Know then, I heere forget
all former greefes, Cancell all grudge, repeale thee home againe, Plead
a new state in thy vn-riual'd merit, To which I thus subscribe: Sir
Valentine, Thou art a Gentleman, and well deriu'd,

Take thou thy Siluia, for thou hast deseru'd her

Val. I thank your Grace, y gift hath made me happy: I now beseech
you (for your daughters sake) To grant one Boone that I shall aske of
you

Duke. I grant it (for thine owne) what ere it be

Val. These banish'd men, that I haue kept withall, Are men endu'd
with worthy qualities:

Forgiue them what they haue committed here, And let them be recall'd
from their Exile: They are reformed, ciuill, full of good,

And fit for great employment (worthy Lord.)

Duke. Thou hast preuaild, I pardon them and thee: Dispose of them, as
thou knowst their deserts. Come, let vs goe, we will include all
iarres, With Triumphes, Mirth, and rare solemnity

Val. And as we walke along, I dare be bold With our discourse, to
make your Grace to smile. What thinke you of this Page (my Lord?)

Duke. I think the Boy hath grace in him, he blushes

Val. I warrant you (my Lord) more grace, then Boy

Duke. What meane you by that saying?

Val. Please you, Ile tell you, as we passe along, That you will
wonder what hath fortuned:

Come Protheus, 'tis your pennance, but to heare The story of your Loues
discouered.

That done, our day of marriage shall be yours, One Feast, one house,
one mutuall happinesse.

Exeunt.



The names of all the Actors.

Duke: Father to Siluia.

Valentine.

Protheus. the two Gentlemen.

Anthonio: father to Protheus.

Thurio: a foolish riuall to Valentine.

Eglamoure: Agent for Siluia in her escape.  Host: where Iulia lodges.

Outlawes with Valentine.

Speed: a clownish seruant to Valentine.

Launce: the like to Protheus.

Panthion: seruant to Antonio.

Iulia: beloued of Protheus.

Siluia: beloued of Valentine.

Lucetta: waighting-woman to Iulia.

FINIS. THE Two Gentlemen of Verona.

The Merry Wiues of Windsor

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Enter Iustice Shallow, Slender, Sir Hugh Euans, Master Page,
Falstoffe,

Bardolph, Nym, Pistoll, Anne Page, Mistresse Ford, Mistresse Page,
Simple.



Shallow. Sir Hugh, perswade me not: I will make a StarChamber matter
of it, if hee were twenty Sir

Iohn Falstoffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow Esquire

Slen. In the County of Glocester, Iustice of Peace and Coram

Shal. I (Cosen Slender) and Custalorum

Slen. I, and Ratolorum too; and a Gentleman borne (Master Parson)
who writes himselfe Armigero, in any Bill, Warrant, Quittance, or
Obligation, Armigero

Shal. I that I doe, and haue done any time these three hundred
yeeres

Slen. All his successors (gone before him) hath don't: and all his
Ancestors (that come after him) may: they may giue the dozen white
Luces in their Coate

Shal. It is an olde Coate

Euans. The dozen white Lowses doe become an old Coat well: it agrees
well passant: It is a familiar beast to man, and signifies Loue

Shal. The Luse is the fresh-fish, the salt-fish, is an old Coate

Slen. I may quarter (Coz)

Shal. You may, by marrying

Euans. It is marring indeed, if he quarter it

Shal. Not a whit

Euan. Yes per-lady: if he ha's a quarter of your coat, there is but
three Skirts for your selfe, in my simple coniectures; but that is all
one: if Sir Iohn Falstaffe haue committed disparagements vnto you, I am
of the Church and will be glad to do my beneuolence, to make
attonements and compremises betweene you

Shal. The Councell shall heare it, it is a Riot

Euan. It is not meet the Councell heare a Riot: there is no feare of
Got in a Riot: The Councell (looke you) shall desire to heare the feare
of Got, and not to heare a Riot: take your vizaments in that

Shal. Ha; o'my life, if I were yong againe, the sword should end it

Euans. It is petter that friends is the sword, and end it: and there
is also another deuice in my praine, which peraduenture prings goot
discretions with it. There is Anne Page, which is daughter to Master
Thomas Page, which is pretty virginity

Slen. Mistris Anne Page? she has browne haire, and speakes small
like a woman

Euans. It is that ferry person for all the orld, as iust as you will
desire, and seuen hundred pounds of Moneyes, and Gold, and Siluer, is
her Grand-sire vpon his deathsbed, (Got deliuer to a ioyfull
resurrections) giue, when she is able to ouertake seuenteene yeeres
old. It were a goot motion, if we leaue our pribbles and prabbles, and
desire a marriage betweene Master Abraham, and Mistris Anne Page

Slen. Did her Grand-sire leaue her seauen hundred pound?

Euan. I, and her father is make her a petter penny

Slen. I know the young Gentlewoman, she has good gifts

Euan. Seuen hundred pounds, and possibilities, is goot gifts

Shal. Wel, let vs see honest Mr Page: is Falstaffe there?   Euan.
Shall I tell you a lye? I doe despise a lyer, as I doe despise one that
is false, or as I despise one that is not true: the Knight Sir Iohn is
there, and I beseech you be ruled by your well-willers: I will peat the
doore for Mr. Page. What hoa? Got-plesse your house heere

Mr.Page. Who's there?

Euan. Here is go't's plessing and your friend, and Iustice Shallow,
and heere yong Master Slender: that peraduentures shall tell you
another tale, if matters grow to your likings

Mr.Page. I am glad to see your Worships well: I thanke you for my
Venison Master Shallow

Shal. Master Page, I am glad to see you: much good doe it your good
heart: I wish'd your Venison better, it was ill killd: how doth good
Mistresse Page? and I thank you alwaies with my heart, la: with my
heart

M.Page. Sir, I thanke you

Shal. Sir, I thanke you: by yea, and no I doe

M.Pa. I am glad to see you, good Master Slender

Slen. How do's your fallow Greyhound, Sir, I heard say he was
out-run on Cotsall

M.Pa. It could not be iudg'd, Sir

Slen. You'll not confesse: you'll not confesse

Shal. That he will not, 'tis your fault, 'tis your fault: 'tis a
good dogge

M.Pa. A Cur, Sir

Shal. Sir: hee's a good dog, and a faire dog, can there be more
said? he is good, and faire. Is Sir Iohn Falstaffe heere?

M.Pa. Sir, hee is within: and I would I could doe a good office
betweene you

Euan. It is spoke as a Christians ought to speake

Shal. He hath wrong'd me (Master Page.)

M.Pa. Sir, he doth in some sort confesse it

Shal. If it be confessed, it is not redressed; is not that so
(M[aster]. Page?) he hath wrong'd me, indeed he hath, at a word he
hath: beleeue me, Robert Shallow Esquire, saith he is wronged

Ma.Pa. Here comes Sir Iohn

Fal. Now, Master Shallow, you'll complaine of me to the King?

Shal. Knight, you haue beaten my men, kill'd my deere, and broke open
my Lodge

Fal. But not kiss'd your Keepers daughter?   Shal. Tut, a pin: this
shall be answer'd

Fal. I will answere it strait, I haue done all this: That is now
answer'd

Shal. The Councell shall know this

Fal. 'Twere better for you if it were known in councell: you'll be
laugh'd at

Eu. Pauca verba; (Sir Iohn) good worts

Fal. Good worts? good Cabidge; Slender, I broke your head: what
matter haue you against me?   Slen. Marry sir, I haue matter in my head
against you, and against your cony-catching Rascalls, Bardolf, Nym, and
Pistoll

Bar. You Banbery Cheese

Slen. I, it is no matter

Pist. How now, Mephostophilus?

Slen. I, it is no matter

Nym. Slice, I say; pauca, pauca: Slice, that's my humor

Slen. Where's Simple my man? can you tell, Cosen?   Eua. Peace, I
pray you: now let vs vnderstand: there is three Vmpires in this matter,
as I vnderstand; that is, Master Page (fidelicet Master Page,) & there
is my selfe, (fidelicet my selfe) and the three party is (lastly, and
finally) mine Host of the Garter

Ma.Pa. We three to hear it, & end it between them

Euan. Ferry goo't, I will make a priefe of it in my note-booke, and
we wil afterwards orke vpon the cause, with as great discreetly as we
can

Fal. Pistoll

Pist. He heares with eares

Euan. The Teuill and his Tam: what phrase is this? he heares with
eare? why, it is affectations

Fal. Pistoll, did you picke M[aster]. Slenders purse?   Slen. I, by
these gloues did hee, or I would I might neuer come in mine owne great
chamber againe else, of seauen groates in mill-sixpences, and two
Edward Shouelboords, that cost me two shilling and two pence a peece of
Yead Miller: by these gloues

Fal. Is this true, Pistoll?

Euan. No, it is false, if it is a picke-purse

Pist. Ha, thou mountaine Forreyner: Sir Iohn, and Master mine, I
combat challenge of this Latine Bilboe: word of deniall in thy labras
here; word of denial; froth, and scum thou liest

Slen. By these gloues, then 'twas he

Nym. Be auis'd sir, and passe good humours: I will say marry trap
with you, if you runne the nut-hooks humor on me, that is the very note
of it

Slen. By this hat, then he in the red face had it: for though I
cannot remember what I did when you made me drunke, yet I am not
altogether an asse

Fal. What say you Scarlet, and Iohn?

Bar. Why sir, (for my part) I say the Gentleman had drunke himselfe
out of his fiue sentences

Eu. It is his fiue sences: fie, what the ignorance is

Bar. And being fap, sir, was (as they say) casheerd: and so
conclusions past the Careires

Slen. I, you spake in Latten then to: but 'tis no matter; Ile nere
be drunk whilst I liue againe, but in honest, ciuill, godly company for
this tricke: if I be drunke, Ile be drunke with those that haue the
feare of God, and not with drunken knaues

Euan. So got-udge me, that is a vertuous minde

Fal. You heare all these matters deni'd, Gentlemen; you heare it

Mr.Page. Nay daughter, carry the wine in, wee'll drinke within

Slen. Oh heauen: This is Mistresse Anne Page

Mr.Page. How now Mistris Ford?

Fal. Mistris Ford, by my troth you are very wel met: by your leaue
good Mistris

Mr.Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome: come, we haue a hot
Venison pasty to dinner; Come gentlemen, I hope we shall drinke downe
all vnkindnesse

Slen. I had rather then forty shillings I had my booke of Songs and
Sonnets heere: How now Simple, where haue you beene? I must wait on my
selfe, must I? you haue not the booke of Riddles about you, haue you?
Sim. Booke of Riddles? why did you not lend it to Alice Short-cake vpon
Alhallowmas last, a fortnight afore Michaelmas

Shal. Come Coz, come Coz, we stay for you: a word with you Coz:
marry this, Coz: there is as 'twere a tender, a kinde of tender, made a
farre-off by Sir Hugh here: doe you vnderstand me?

Slen. I Sir, you shall finde me reasonable; if it be so, I shall doe
that that is reason

Shal. Nay, but vnderstand me

Slen. So I doe Sir

Euan. Giue eare to his motions; (Mr. Slender) I will description the
matter to you, if you be capacity of it

Slen. Nay, I will doe as my Cozen Shallow saies: I pray you pardon
me, he's a Iustice of Peace in his Countrie, simple though I stand
here

Euan. But that is not the question: the question is concerning your
marriage

Shal. I, there's the point Sir

Eu. Marry is it: the very point of it, to Mi[stris]. An Page

Slen. Why if it be so; I will marry her vpon any reasonable demands

Eu. But can you affection the 'oman, let vs command to know that of
your mouth, or of your lips: for diuers Philosophers hold, that the
lips is parcell of the mouth: therfore precisely, ca[n] you carry your
good wil to y maid?   Sh. Cosen Abraham Slender, can you loue her?
Slen. I hope sir, I will do as it shall become one that would doe
reason

Eu. Nay, got's Lords, and his Ladies, you must speake possitable, if
you can carry-her your desires towards her

Shal. That you must:

Will you, (vpon good dowry) marry her?

Slen. I will doe a greater thing then that, vpon your request (Cosen)
in any reason

Shal. Nay conceiue me, conceiue mee, (sweet Coz): What I doe is to
pleasure you (Coz:) can you loue the maid?

Slen. I will marry her (Sir) at your request; but if there bee no
great loue in the beginning, yet Heauen may decrease it vpon better
acquaintance, when wee are married, and haue more occasion to know one
another: I hope vpon familiarity will grow more content: but if you say
mary-her, I will mary-her, that I am freely dissolued, and dissolutely

Eu. It is a fery discretion-answere; saue the fall is in the 'ord,
dissolutely: the ort is (according to our meaning) resolutely: his
meaning is good

Sh. I: I thinke my Cosen meant well

Sl. I, or else I would I might be hang'd (la.)

Sh. Here comes faire Mistris Anne; would I were yong for your sake,
Mistris Anne

An. The dinner is on the Table, my Father desires your worships
company

Sh. I will wait on him, (faire Mistris Anne.)

Eu. Od's plessed-wil: I wil not be abse[n]ce at the grace

An. Wil't please your worship to come in, Sir?   Sl. No, I thank you
forsooth, hartely; I am very well

An. The dinner attends you, Sir

Sl. I am not a-hungry, I thanke you, forsooth: goe, Sirha, for all
you are my man, goe wait vpon my Cosen Shallow: a Iustice of peace
sometime may be beholding to his friend, for a Man; I keepe but three
Men, and a Boy yet, till my Mother be dead: but what though, yet I liue
like a poore Gentleman borne

An. I may not goe in without your worship: they will not sit till
you come

Sl. I' faith, ile eate nothing: I thanke you as much as though I
did

An. I pray you Sir walke in

Sl. I had rather walke here (I thanke you) I bruiz'd my shin th'
other day, with playing at Sword and Dagger with a Master of Fence
(three veneys for a dish of stew'd Prunes) and by my troth, I cannot
abide the smell of hot meate since. Why doe your dogs barke so? be
there Beares ith' Towne?

An. I thinke there are, Sir, I heard them talk'd of

Sl. I loue the sport well, but I shall as soone quarrell at it, as
any man in England: you are afraid if you see the Beare loose, are you
not?

An. I indeede Sir

Sl. That's meate and drinke to me now: I haue seene Saskerson loose,
twenty times, and haue taken him by the Chaine: but (I warrant you) the
women haue so cride and shrekt at it, that it past: But women indeede,
cannot abide 'em, they are very ill-fauour'd rough things

Ma.Pa. Come, gentle M[aster]. Slender, come; we stay for you

Sl. Ile eate nothing, I thanke you Sir

Ma.Pa. By cocke and pie, you shall not choose, Sir: come, come

Sl. Nay, pray you lead the way

Ma.Pa. Come on, Sir

Sl. Mistris Anne: your selfe shall goe first

An. Not I Sir, pray you keepe on

Sl. Truely I will not goe first: truely-la: I will not doe you that
wrong

An. I pray you Sir

Sl. Ile rather be vnmannerly, then troublesome: you doe your selfe
wrong indeede-la.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Euans, and Simple.

Eu. Go your waies, and aske of Doctor Caius house, which is the way;
and there dwels one Mistris Quickly; which is in the manner of his
Nurse; or his dry-Nurse; or his Cooke; or his Laundry; his Washer, and
his Ringer

Si. Well Sir

Eu. Nay, it is petter yet: giue her this letter; for it is a 'oman
that altogeathers acquainta[n]ce with Mistris Anne Page; and the Letter
is to desire, and require her to solicite your Masters desires, to
Mistris Anne Page: I pray you be gon: I will make an end of my dinner;
ther's Pippins and Cheese to come.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Falstaffe, Host, Bardolfe, Nym, Pistoll, Page.

Fal. Mine Host of the Garter?

Ho. What saies my Bully Rooke? speake schollerly, and wisely

Fal. Truely mine Host; I must turne away some of my followers

Ho. Discard, (bully Hercules) casheere; let them wag; trot, trot

Fal. I sit at ten pounds a weeke

Ho. Thou'rt an Emperor (Cesar, Keiser and Pheazar) I will entertaine
Bardolfe: he shall draw; he shall tap; said I well (bully Hector?)

Fa. Doe so (good mine Host.)

Ho. I haue spoke; let him follow; let me see thee froth, and liue: I
am at a word: follow

Fal. Bardolfe, follow him: a Tapster is a good trade: an old Cloake,
makes a new Ierkin: a wither'd Seruingman, a fresh Tapster: goe, adew

Ba. It is a life that I haue desir'd: I will thriue

Pist. O base hungarian wight: wilt y the spigot wield

Ni. He was gotten in drink: is not the humor co[n]ceited?   Fal. I
am glad I am so acquit of this Tinderbox: his Thefts were too open: his
filching was like an vnskilfull Singer, he kept not time

Ni. The good humor is to steale at a minutes rest

Pist. Conuay: the wise it call: Steale? foh: a fico for the phrase

Fal. Well sirs, I am almost out at heeles

Pist. Why then let Kibes ensue

Fal. There is no remedy: I must conicatch, I must shift

Pist. Yong Rauens must haue foode

Fal. Which of you know Ford of this Towne?   Pist. I ken the wight:
he is of substance good

Fal. My honest Lads, I will tell you what I am about

Pist. Two yards, and more

Fal. No quips now Pistoll: (Indeede I am in the waste two yards
about: but I am now about no waste: I am about thrift) briefely: I doe
meane to make loue to Fords wife: I spie entertainment in her: shee
discourses: shee carues: she giues the leere of inuitation: I can
construe the action of her familier stile, & the hardest voice of her
behauior (to be english'd rightly) is, I am Sir Iohn Falstafs

Pist. He hath studied her will; and translated her will: out of
honesty, into English

Ni. The Anchor is deepe: will that humor passe?   Fal. Now, the
report goes, she has all the rule of her husbands Purse: he hath a
legend of Angels

Pist. As many diuels entertaine: and to her Boy say I

Ni. The humor rises: it is good: humor me the angels

Fal. I haue writ me here a letter to her: & here another to Pages
wife, who euen now gaue mee good eyes too; examind my parts with most
iudicious illiads: sometimes the beame of her view, guilded my foote:
sometimes my portly belly

Pist. Then did the Sun on dung-hill shine

Ni. I thanke thee for that humour

Fal. O she did so course o're my exteriors with such a greedy
intention, that the appetite of her eye, did seeme to scorch me vp like
a burning-glasse: here's another letter to her: She beares the Purse
too: She is a Region in Guiana: all gold, and bountie: I will be
Cheaters to them both, and they shall be Exchequers to mee: they shall
be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to them both: Goe, beare
thou this Letter to Mistris Page; and thou this to Mistris Ford: we
will thriue (Lads) we will thriue

Pist. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become, And by my side weare
Steele? then Lucifer take all

Ni. I will run no base humor: here take the humor-Letter; I will
keepe the hauior of reputation

Fal. Hold Sirha, beare you these Letters tightly, Saile like my
Pinnasse to these golden shores. Rogues, hence, auaunt, vanish like
haile-stones; goe, Trudge; plod away ith' hoofe: seeke shelter, packe:
Falstaffe will learne the honor of the age, French-thrift, you Rogues,
my selfe, and skirted Page

Pist. Let Vultures gripe thy guts: for gourd, and Fullam holds: &
high and low beguiles the rich & poore, Tester ile haue in pouch when
thou shalt lacke, Base Phrygian Turke

Ni. I haue opperations,

Which be humors of reuenge

Pist. Wilt thou reuenge?

Ni. By Welkin, and her Star

Pist. With wit, or Steele?

Ni. With both the humors, I:

I will discusse the humour of this Loue to Ford

Pist. And I to Page shall eke vnfold

How Falstaffe (varlet vile)

His Doue will proue; his gold will hold,

And his soft couch defile

Ni. My humour shall not coole: I will incense Ford to deale with
poyson: I will possesse him with yallownesse, for the reuolt of mine is
dangerous: that is my true humour

Pist. Thou art the Mars of Malecontents: I second thee: troope on.

Exeunt.



Scoena Quarta.

Enter Mistris Quickly, Simple, Iohn Rugby, Doctor, Caius, Fenton.

Qu. What, Iohn Rugby, I pray thee goe to the Casement, and see if you
can see my Master, Master Docter Caius comming: if he doe (I' faith)
and finde any body in the house; here will be an old abusing of Gods
patience, and the Kings English

Ru. Ile goe watch

Qu. Goe, and we'll haue a posset for't soone at night, (in faith) at
the latter end of a Sea-cole-fire: An honest, willing, kinde fellow, as
euer seruant shall come in house withall: and I warrant you, no
tel-tale, nor no breedebate: his worst fault is, that he is giuen to
prayer; hee is something peeuish that way: but no body but has his
fault: but let that passe. Peter Simple, you say your name is?

Si. I: for fault of a better

Qu. And Master Slender's your Master?

Si. I forsooth

Qu. Do's he not weare a great round Beard, like a Glouers
pairing-knife?

Si. No forsooth: he hath but a little wee-face; with a little yellow
Beard: a Caine colourd Beard

Qu. A softly-sprighted man, is he not?   Si. I forsooth: but he is
as tall a man of his hands, as any is betweene this and his head: he
hath fought with a Warrener

Qu. How say you: oh, I should remember him: do's he not hold vp his
head (as it were?) and strut in his gate?   Si. Yes indeede do's he

Qu. Well, heauen send Anne Page, no worse fortune: Tell Master
Parson Euans, I will doe what I can for your Master: Anne is a good
girle, and I wish -   Ru. Out alas: here comes my Master

Qu. We shall all be shent: Run in here, good young man: goe into
this Closset: he will not stay long: what Iohn Rugby? Iohn: what Iohn I
say? goe Iohn, goe enquire for my Master, I doubt he be not well, that
hee comes not home: (and downe, downe, adowne'a. &c

Ca. Vat is you sing? I doe not like des-toyes: pray you goe and
vetch me in my Closset, vnboyteere verd; a Box, a greene-a-Box: do
intend vat I speake? a greene-a-Box

Qu. I forsooth ile fetch it you:

I am glad hee went not in himselfe: if he had found the yong man he
would haue bin horne-mad

Ca. Fe, fe, fe, fe, mai foy, il fait for ehando, Ie man voi a le
Court la grand affaires

Qu. Is it this Sir?

Ca. Ouy mette le au mon pocket, depeech quickly: Vere is dat knaue
Rugby?

Qu. What Iohn Rugby, Iohn?

Ru. Here Sir

Ca. You are Iohn Rugby, and you are Iacke Rugby: Come, take-a-your
Rapier, and come after my heele to the Court

Ru. 'Tis ready Sir, here in the Porch

Ca. By my trot: I tarry too long: od's-me: que ay ie oublie: dere is
some Simples in my Closset, dat I vill not for the varld I shall leaue
behinde

Qu. Ay-me, he'll finde the yong man there, & be mad

Ca. O Diable, Diable: vat is in my Closset? Villanie, Laroone:
Rugby, my Rapier

Qu. Good Master be content

Ca. Wherefore shall I be content-a?

Qu. The yong man is an honest man

Ca. What shall de honest man do in my Closset: dere is no honest man
dat shall come in my Closset

Qu. I beseech you be not so flegmaticke: heare the truth of it. He
came of an errand to mee, from Parson Hugh

Ca. Vell

Si. I forsooth: to desire her to -

Qu. Peace, I pray you

Ca. Peace-a-your tongue: speake-a-your Tale

Si. To desire this honest Gentlewoman (your Maid) to speake a good
word to Mistris Anne Page, for my Master in the way of Marriage

Qu. This is all indeede-la: but ile nere put my finger in the fire,
and neede not

Ca. Sir Hugh send-a you? Rugby, ballow mee some paper: tarry you a
littell-a-while

Qui. I am glad he is so quiet: if he had bin throughly moued, you
should haue heard him so loud, and so melancholly: but notwithstanding
man, Ile doe yoe your Master what good I can: and the very yea, & the
no is, y French Doctor my Master, (I may call him my Master, looke you,
for I keepe his house; and I wash, ring, brew, bake, scowre, dresse
meat and drinke, make the beds, and doe all my selfe.)

Simp. 'Tis a great charge to come vnder one bodies hand

Qui. Are you auis'd o'that? you shall finde it a great charge: and
to be vp early, and down late: but notwithstanding, (to tell you in
your eare, I wold haue no words of it) my Master himselfe is in loue
with Mistris Anne Page: but notwithstanding that I know Ans mind,
that's neither heere nor there

Caius. You, Iack'Nape: giue-'a this Letter to Sir Hugh, by gar it is
a shallenge: I will cut his troat in de Parke, and I will teach a
scuruy Iackanape Priest to meddle, or make:- you may be gon: it is not
good you tarry here: by gar I will cut all his two stones: by gar, he
shall not haue a stone to throw at his dogge

Qui. Alas: he speakes but for his friend

Caius. It is no matter 'a ver dat: do not you tell-a-me dat I shall
haue Anne Page for my selfe? by gar, I vill kill de Iack-Priest: and I
haue appointed mine Host of de Iarteer to measure our weapon: by gar, I
wil my selfe haue Anne Page

Qui. Sir, the maid loues you, and all shall bee well: We must giue
folkes leaue to prate: what the goodier

Caius. Rugby, come to the Court with me: by gar, if I haue not Anne
Page, I shall turne your head out of my dore: follow my heeles, Rugby

Qui. You shall haue An-fooles head of your owne: No, I know Ans mind
for that: neuer a woman in Windsor knowes more of Ans minde then I doe,
nor can doe more then I doe with her, I thanke heauen

Fenton. Who's with in there, hoa?

Qui. Who's there, I troa? Come neere the house I pray you

Fen. How now (good woman) how dost thou?   Qui. The better that it
pleases your good Worship to aske?

Fen. What newes? how do's pretty Mistris Anne?   Qui. In truth Sir,
and shee is pretty, and honest, and gentle, and one that is your
friend, I can tell you that by the way, I praise heauen for it

Fen. Shall I doe any good thinkst thou? shall I not loose my suit?

Qui. Troth Sir, all is in his hands aboue: but notwithstanding
(Master Fenton) Ile be sworne on a booke

shee loues you: haue not your Worship a wart aboue your eye?

Fen. Yes marry haue I, what of that?

Qui. Wel, thereby hangs a tale: good faith, it is such another Nan;
(but (I detest) an honest maid as euer broke bread: wee had an howres
talke of that wart; I shall neuer laugh but in that maids company: but
(indeed) shee is giuen too much to Allicholy and musing: but for you -
well - goe too -

Fen. Well: I shall see her to day: hold, there's money for thee: Let
mee haue thy voice in my behalfe: if thou seest her before me, commend
me. -

Qui. Will I? I faith that wee will: And I will tell your Worship more
of the Wart, the next time we haue confidence, and of other wooers

Fen. Well, fare-well, I am in great haste now

Qui. Fare-well to your Worship: truely an honest Gentleman: but Anne
loues him not: for I know Ans minde as well as another do's: out
vpon't: what haue I forgot.

Enter.



Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, Master Page, Master Ford, Pistoll,
Nim,

Quickly, Host, Shallow.

Mist.Page. What, haue scap'd Loue-letters in the holly-day-time of my
beauty, and am I now a subiect for them? let me see?

Aske me no reason why I loue you, for though Loue vse Reason for his
precisian, hee admits him not for his Counsailour: you are not yong, no
more am I: goe to then, there's simpathie: you are merry, so am I: ha,
ha, then there's more simpathie: you loue sacke, and so do I: would you
desire better simpathie? Let it suffice thee (Mistris Page) at the
least if the Loue of Souldier can suffice, that I loue thee: I will not
say pitty mee, 'tis not a Souldier-like phrase; but I say, loue me: By
me, thine owne true Knight, by day or night: Or any kinde of light,
with all his might, For thee to fight. Iohn Falstaffe.

What a Herod of Iurie is this? O wicked, wicked world: One that is
well-nye worne to peeces with age To show himselfe a yong Gallant? What
an vnwaied Behauiour hath this Flemish drunkard pickt (with The Deuills
name) out of my conuersation, that he dares In this manner assay me?
why, hee hath not beene thrice In my Company: what should I say to him?
I was then Frugall of my mirth: (heauen forgiue mee:) why Ile Exhibit a
Bill in the Parliament for the putting downe of men: how shall I be
reueng'd on him? for reueng'd I will be? as sure as his guts are made
of puddings

Mis.Ford. Mistris Page, trust me, I was going to your house

Mis.Page. And trust me, I was comming to you: you looke very ill

Mis.Ford. Nay Ile nere beleeue that; I haue to shew to the contrary

Mis.Page. 'Faith but you doe in my minde

Mis.Ford. Well: I doe then: yet I say, I could shew you to the
contrary: O Mistris Page, giue mee some counsaile

Mis.Page. What's the matter, woman?

Mi.Ford. O woman: if it were not for one trifling respect, I could
come to such honour

Mi.Page. Hang the trifle (woman) take the honour: what is it?
dispence with trifles: what is it?   Mi.Ford. If I would but goe to
hell, for an eternall moment, or so: I could be knighted

Mi.Page. What thou liest? Sir Alice Ford? these Knights will hacke,
and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy Gentry

Mi.Ford. Wee burne day-light: heere, read, read: perceiue how I
might bee knighted, I shall thinke the worse of fat men, as long as I
haue an eye to make difference of mens liking: and yet hee would not
sweare: praise womens modesty: and gaue such orderly and welbehaued
reproofe to al vncomelinesse, that I would haue sworne his disposition
would haue gone to the truth of his words: but they doe no more adhere
and keep place together, then the hundred Psalms to the tune of
Greensleeues: What tempest (I troa) threw this Whale, (with so many
Tuns of oyle in his belly) a'shoare at Windsor? How shall I bee
reuenged on him? I thinke the best way were, to entertaine him with
hope, till the wicked fire of lust haue melted him in his owne greace:
Did you euer heare the like?

Mis.Page. Letter for letter; but that the name of Page and Ford
differs: to thy great comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, heere's
the twyn-brother of thy Letter: but let thine inherit first, for I
protest mine neuer shall: I warrant he hath a thousand of these
Letters, writ with blancke-space for different names (sure more): and
these are of the second edition: hee will print them out of doubt: for
he cares not what hee puts into the presse, when he would put vs two: I
had rather be a Giantesse, and lye vnder Mount Pelion: Well; I will
find you twentie lasciuious Turtles ere one chaste man

Mis.Ford. Why this is the very same: the very hand: the very words:
what doth he thinke of vs?   Mis.Page. Nay I know not: it makes me
almost readie to wrangle with mine owne honesty: Ile entertaine my
selfe like one that I am not acquainted withall: for sure vnlesse hee
know some straine in mee, that I know not my selfe, hee would neuer
haue boorded me in this furie

Mi.Ford. Boording, call you it? Ile bee sure to keepe him aboue
decke

Mi.Page. So will I: if hee come vnder my hatches, Ile neuer to Sea
againe: Let's bee reueng'd on him: let's appoint him a meeting: giue
him a show of comfort in his Suit, and lead him on with a fine baited
delay, till hee hath pawn'd his horses to mine Host of the Garter

Mi.Ford. Nay, I wil consent to act any villany against him, that may
not sully the charinesse of our honesty: oh that my husband saw this
Letter: it would giue eternall food to his iealousie

Mis.Page. Why look where he comes; and my good man too: hee's as
farre from iealousie, as I am from giuing him cause, and that (I hope)
is an vnmeasurable distance

Mis.Ford. You are the happier woman

Mis.Page. Let's consult together against this greasie Knight: Come
hither

Ford. Well: I hope, it be not so

Pist. Hope is a curtall-dog in some affaires: Sir Iohn affects thy
wife

Ford. Why sir, my wife is not young

Pist. He wooes both high and low, both rich & poor, both yong and
old, one with another (Ford) he loues the Gally-mawfry (Ford) perpend

Ford. Loue my wife?

Pist. With liuer, burning hot: preuent: Or goe thou like Sir Acteon
he, with

Ring-wood at thy heeles: O, odious is the name

Ford. What name Sir?

Pist. The horne I say: Farewell:

Take heed, haue open eye, for theeues doe foot by night. Take heed, ere
sommer comes, or Cuckoo-birds do sing. Away sir Corporall Nim:

Beleeue it (Page) he speakes sence

Ford. I will be patient: I will find out this

Nim. And this is true: I like not the humor of lying: hee hath
wronged mee in some humors: I should haue borne the humour'd Letter to
her: but I haue a sword: and it shall bite vpon my necessitie: he loues
your wife; There's the short and the long: My name is Corporall Nim: I
speak, and I auouch; 'tis true: my name is Nim: and Falstaffe loues
your wife: adieu, I loue not the humour of bread and cheese: adieu

Page. The humour of it (quoth 'a?) heere's a fellow frights English
out of his wits

Ford. I will seeke out Falstaffe

Page. I neuer heard such a drawling-affecting rogue

Ford. If I doe finde it: well

Page. I will not beleeue such a Cataian, though the Priest o' th'
Towne commended him for a true man

Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow: well

Page. How now Meg?

Mist.Page. Whether goe you (George?) harke you

Mis.Ford. How now (sweet Frank) why art thou melancholy?   Ford. I
melancholy? I am not melancholy: Get you home: goe

Mis.Ford. Faith, thou hast some crochets in thy head, Now: will you
goe, Mistris Page?

Mis.Page. Haue with you: you'll come to dinner George? Looke who
comes yonder: shee shall bee our Messenger to this paltrie Knight

Mis.Ford. Trust me, I thought on her: shee'll fit it

Mis.Page. You are come to see my daughter Anne?   Qui. I forsooth:
and I pray how do's good Mistresse Anne?

Mis.Page. Go in with vs and see: we haue an houres talke with you

Page. How now Master Ford?

For. You heard what this knaue told me, did you not?   Page. Yes, and
you heard what the other told me?   Ford. Doe you thinke there is truth
in them?   Pag. Hang 'em slaues: I doe not thinke the Knight would
offer it: But these that accuse him in his intent towards our wiues,
are a yoake of his discarded men: very rogues, now they be out of
seruice

Ford. Were they his men?

Page. Marry were they

Ford. I like it neuer the beter for that, Do's he lye at the
Garter?

Page. I marry do's he: if hee should intend this voyage toward my
wife, I would turne her loose to him; and what hee gets more of her,
then sharpe words, let it lye on my head

Ford. I doe not misdoubt my wife: but I would bee loath to turne
them together: a man may be too confident: I would haue nothing lye on
my head: I cannot be thus satisfied

Page. Looke where my ranting-Host of the Garter comes: there is
eyther liquor in his pate, or mony in his purse, when hee lookes so
merrily: How now mine Host?

Host. How now Bully-Rooke: thou'rt a Gentleman Caueleiro Iustice, I
say

Shal. I follow, (mine Host) I follow: Good-euen, and twenty (good
Master Page.) Master Page, wil you go with vs? we haue sport in hand

Host. Tell him Caueleiro-Iustice: tell him Bully-Rooke

Shall. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, betweene Sir Hugh the
Welch Priest, and Caius the French Doctor

Ford. Good mine Host o'th' Garter: a word with you

Host. What saist thou, my Bully-Rooke?   Shal. Will you goe with vs
to behold it? My merry Host hath had the measuring of their weapons;
and (I thinke) hath appointed them contrary places: for (beleeue mee) I
heare the Parson is no Iester: harke, I will tell you what our sport
shall be

Host. Hast thou no suit against my Knight? my guest-Caualeire? Shal.
None, I protest: but Ile giue you a pottle of burn'd sacke, to giue me
recourse to him, and tell him my name is Broome: onely for a iest

Host. My hand, (Bully:) thou shalt haue egresse and regresse, (said
I well?) and thy name shall be Broome. It is a merry Knight: will you
goe An-heires?   Shal. Haue with you mine Host

Page. I haue heard the French-man hath good skill in his Rapier

Shal. Tut sir: I could haue told you more: In these times you stand
on distance: your Passes, Stoccado's, and I know not what: 'tis the
heart (Master Page) 'tis heere, 'tis heere: I haue seene the time, with
my long-sword, I would haue made you fowre tall fellowes skippe like
Rattes

Host. Heere boyes, heere, heere: shall we wag?   Page. Haue with
you: I had rather heare them scold, then fight

Ford. Though Page be a secure foole, and stands so firmely on his
wiues frailty; yet, I cannot put-off my opinion so easily: she was in
his company at Pages house: and what they made there, I know not. Well,
I wil looke further into't, and I haue a disguise, to sound Falstaffe;
if I finde her honest, I loose not my labor: if she be otherwise, 'tis
labour well bestowed.

Exeunt.



Scoena Secunda.



Enter Falstaffe, Pistoll, Robin, Quickly, Bardolffe, Ford.

Fal. I will not lend thee a penny

Pist. Why then the world's mine Oyster, which I, with sword will
open

Fal. Not a penny: I haue beene content (Sir,) you should lay my
countenance to pawne: I haue grated vpon my good friends for three
Repreeues for you, and your Coach-fellow Nim; or else you had look'd
through the grate, like a Geminy of Baboones: I am damn'd in hell, for
swearing to Gentlemen my friends, you were good Souldiers, and
tall-fellowes. And when Mistresse Briget lost the handle of her Fan, I
took't vpon mine honour thou hadst it not

Pist. Didst not thou share? hadst thou not fifteene pence?

Fal. Reason, you roague, reason: thinkst thou Ile endanger my soule,
gratis? at a word, hang no more about mee, I am no gibbet for you: goe,
a short knife, and a throng, to your Mannor of Pickt-hatch: goe, you'll
not beare a Letter for mee you roague? you stand vpon your honor: why,
(thou vnconfinable basenesse) it is as much as I can doe to keepe the
termes of my honor precise: I, I, I my selfe sometimes, leauing the
feare of heauen on the left hand, and hiding mine honor in my
necessity, am faine to shufflle: to hedge, and to lurch, and yet, you
Rogue, will en-sconce your raggs; your Cat-a-Mountaine-lookes, your
red-lattice phrases, and your boldbeating-oathes, vnder the shelter of
your honor? you

will not doe it? you?

Pist. I doe relent: what would thou more of man?

Robin. Sir, here's a woman would speake with you

Fal. Let her approach

Qui. Giue your worship good morrow

Fal. Good-morrow, good-wife

Qui. Not so, and't please your worship

Fal. Good maid then

Qui. Ile be sworne,

As my mother was the first houre I was borne

Fal. I doe beleeue the swearer; what with me?

Qui. Shall I vouch-safe your worship a word, or two?

Fal. Two thousand (faire woman) and ile vouchsafe thee the hearing

Qui. There is one Mistresse Ford, (Sir) I pray come a little neerer
this waies: I my selfe dwell with M[aster]. Doctor Caius:

Fal. Well, on; Mistresse Ford, you say

Qui. Your worship saies very true: I pray your worship come a little
neerer this waies

Fal. I warrant thee, no-bodie heares: mine owne people, mine owne
people

Qui. Are they so? heauen-blesse them, and make them his Seruants

Fal. Well; Mistresse Ford, what of her?

Qui. Why, Sir; shee's a good-creature; Lord, Lord, your Worship's a
wanton: well: heauen forgiue you, and all of vs, I pray -

Fal. Mistresse Ford: come, Mistresse Ford

Qui. Marry this is the short, and the long of it: you haue brought
her into such a Canaries, as 'tis wonderfull: the best Courtier of them
all (when the Court lay at Windsor) could neuer haue brought her to
such a Canarie: yet there has beene Knights, and Lords, and Gentlemen,
with their Coaches; I warrant you Coach after Coach, letter after
letter, gift after gift, smelling so sweetly; all Muske, and so
rushling, I warrant you, in silke and golde, and in such alligant
termes, and in such wine and suger of the best, and the fairest, that
would haue wonne any womans heart: and I warrant you, they could neuer
get an eye-winke of her: I had my selfe twentie Angels giuen me this
morning, but I defie all Angels (in any such sort, as they say) but in
the way of honesty: and I warrant you, they could neuer get her so much
as sippe on a cup with the prowdest of them all, and yet there has
beene Earles: nay, (which is more) Pentioners, but I warrant you all is
one with her

Fal. But what saies shee to mee? be briefe my good sheeMercurie

Qui. Marry, she hath receiu'd your Letter: for the which she thankes
you a thousand times; and she giues you to notifie, that her husband
will be absence from his house, betweene ten and eleuen

Fal. Ten, and eleuen

Qui. I, forsooth: and then you may come and see the picture (she
sayes) that you wot of: Master Ford her husband will be from home:
alas, the sweet woman leades an ill life with him: hee's a very
iealousie-man; she leads a very frampold life with him, (good hart.)

Fal. Ten, and eleuen.

Woman, commend me to her, I will not faile her

Qui. Why, you say well: But I haue another messenger to your
worship: Mistresse Page hath her heartie commendations to you to: and
let mee tell you in your eare, shee's as fartuous a ciuill modest wife,
and one (I tell you) that will not misse you morning nor euening
prayer, as any is in Windsor, who ere bee the other: and shee bade me
tell your worship, that her husband is seldome from home, but she hopes
there will come a time. I neuer knew a woman so doate vpon a man;
surely I thinke you haue charmes, la: yes in truth

Fal. Not I, I assure thee; setting the attraction of my good parts
aside, I haue no other charmes

Qui. Blessing on your heart for't

Fal. But I pray thee tell me this: has Fords wife, and Pages wife
acquainted each other, how they loue me?

Qui. That were a iest indeed: they haue not so little grace I hope,
that were a tricke indeed: But Mistris Page would desire you to send
her your little Page of al loues: her husband has a maruellous
infectio[n] to the little Page: and truely Master Page is an honest
man: neuer a wife in Windsor leades a better life then she do's: doe
what shee will, say what she will, take all, pay all, goe to bed when
she list, rise when she list, all is as she will: and truly she
deserues it; for if there be a kinde woman in Windsor, she is one: you
must send her your Page, no remedie

Fal. Why, I will

Qu. Nay, but doe so then, and looke you, hee may come and goe
betweene you both: and in any case haue a nay-word, that you may know
one anothers minde, and the Boy neuer neede to vnderstand any thing;
for 'tis not good that children should know any wickednes: olde folkes
you know, haue discretion, as they say, and know the world

Fal. Farethee-well, commend mee to them both: there's my purse, I am
yet thy debter: Boy, goe along with this woman, this newes distracts
me

Pist. This Puncke is one of Cupids Carriers, Clap on more sailes,
pursue: vp with your sights: Giue fire: she is my prize, or Ocean
whelme them all

Fal. Saist thou so (old Iacke) go thy waies: Ile make more of thy
olde body then I haue done: will they yet looke after thee? wilt thou
after the expence of so much money, be now a gainer? good Body, I
thanke thee: let them say 'tis grossely done, so it bee fairely done,
no matter

Bar. Sir Iohn, there's one Master Broome below would faine speake
with you, and be acquainted with you; and hath sent your worship a
mornings draught of Sacke

Fal. Broome is his name?

Bar. I Sir

Fal. Call him in: such Broomes are welcome to mee, that ore'flowes
such liquor: ah ha, Mistresse Ford and Mistresse Page, haue I
encompass'd you? goe to, via

Ford. 'Blesse you sir

Fal. And you sir: would you speake with me?

Ford. I make bold, to presse, with so little preparation vpon you

Fal. You'r welcome, what's your will? giue vs leaue Drawer

Ford. Sir, I am a Gentleman that haue spent much, my name is Broome

Fal. Good Master Broome, I desire more acquaintance of you

Ford. Good Sir Iohn, I sue for yours: not to charge you, for I must
let you vnderstand, I thinke my selfe in better plight for a Lender,
then you are: the which hath something emboldned me to this vnseason'd
intrusion: for they say, if money goe before, all waies doe lye open

Fal. Money is a good Souldier (Sir) and will on

Ford. Troth, and I haue a bag of money heere troubles me: if you
will helpe to beare it (Sir Iohn) take all, or halfe, for easing me of
the carriage

Fal. Sir, I know not how I may deserue to bee your Porter

Ford. I will tell you sir, if you will giue mee the hearing

Fal. Speake (good Master Broome) I shall be glad to be your Seruant

Ford. Sir, I heare you are a Scholler: (I will be briefe with you)
and you haue been a man long knowne to me, though I had neuer so good
means as desire, to make my selfe acquainted with you. I shall discouer
a thing to you, wherein I must very much lay open mine owne
imperfection: but (good Sir Iohn) as you haue one eye vpon my follies,
as you heare them vnfolded, turne another into the Register of your
owne, that I may passe with a reproofe the easier, sith you your selfe
know how easie it is to be such an offender

Fal. Very well Sir, proceed

Ford. There is a Gentlewoman in this Towne, her husbands name is
Ford

Fal. Well Sir

Ford. I haue long lou'd her, and I protest to you, bestowed much on
her: followed her with a doating obseruance: Ingross'd opportunities to
meete her: fee'd euery slight occasion that could but nigardly giue mee
sight of her: not only bought many presents to giue her, but haue giuen
largely to many, to know what shee would haue giuen: briefly, I haue
pursu'd her, as Loue hath pursued mee, which hath beene on the wing of
all occasions: but whatsoeuer I haue merited, either in my minde, or in
my meanes, meede I am sure I haue receiued none, vnlesse Experience be
a Iewell, that I haue purchased at an infinite rate, and that hath
taught mee to say this,

``Loue like a shadow flies, when substance Loue pursues, ``Pursuing
that that flies, and flying what pursues

Fal. Haue you receiu'd no promise of satisfaction at her hands?

Ford. Neuer

Fal. Haue you importun'd her to such a purpose?   Ford. Neuer

Fal. Of what qualitie was your loue then?   Ford. Like a fair house,
built on another mans ground, so that I haue lost my edifice, by
mistaking the place, where I erected it

Fal. To what purpose haue you vnfolded this to me?   For. When I
haue told you that, I haue told you all: Some say, that though she
appeare honest to mee, yet in other places shee enlargeth her mirth so
farre, that there is shrewd construction made of her. Now (Sir Iohn)
here is the heart of my purpose: you are a gentleman of excellent
breeding, admirable discourse, of great admittance, authenticke in your
place and person, generally allow'd for your many war-like, court-like,
and learned preparations

Fal. O Sir

Ford. Beleeue it, for you know it: there is money, spend it, spend
it, spend more; spend all I haue, onely giue me so much of your time in
enchange of it, as to lay an amiable siege to the honesty of this Fords
wife: vse your Art of wooing; win her to consent to you: if any man
may, you may as soone as any

Fal. Would it apply well to the vehemency of your affection that I
should win what you would enioy? Methinkes you prescribe to your selfe
very preposterously

Ford. O, vnderstand my drift: she dwells so securely on the
excellency of her honor, that the folly of my soule dares not present
it selfe: shee is too bright to be look'd against. Now, could I come to
her with any detection in my hand; my desires had instance and argument
to commend themselues, I could driue her then from the ward of her
purity, her reputation, her marriage-vow, and a thousand other her
defences, which now are tootoo strongly embattaild against me: what say
you too't, Sir Iohn?

Fal. Master Broome, I will first make bold with your money: next,
giue mee your hand: and last, as I am a gentleman, you shall, if you
will, enioy Fords wife

Ford. O good Sir

Fal. I say you shall

Ford. Want no money (Sir Iohn) you shall want none

Fal. Want no Mistresse Ford (Master Broome) you shall want none: I
shall be with her (I may tell you) by her owne appointment, euen as you
came in to me, her assistant, or goe-betweene, parted from me: I say I
shall be with her betweene ten and eleuen: for at that time the
iealious-rascally-knaue her husband will be forth: come you to me at
night, you shall know how I speed

Ford. I am blest in your acquaintance: do you know Ford Sir?

Fal. Hang him (poore Cuckoldly knaue) I know him not: yet I wrong him
to call him poore: They say the iealous wittolly-knaue hath masses of
money, for the which his wife seemes to me well-fauourd: I will vse her
as the key of the Cuckoldly-rogues Coffer, & ther's my haruest-home

Ford. I would you knew Ford, sir, that you might auoid him, if you
saw him

Fal. Hang him, mechanicall-salt-butter rogue; I wil stare him out of
his wits: I will awe-him with my cudgell: it shall hang like a Meteor
ore the Cuckolds horns: Master Broome, thou shalt know, I will
predominate ouer the pezant, and thou shalt lye with his wife. Come to
me soone at night: Ford's a knaue, and I will aggrauate his stile: thou
(Master Broome) shalt know him for knaue, and Cuckold. Come to me soone
at night

Ford. What a damn'd Epicurian-Rascall is this? my heart is ready to
cracke with impatience: who saies this is improuident iealousie? my
wife hath sent to him, the howre is fixt, the match is made: would any
man haue thought this? see the hell of hauing a false woman: my bed
shall be abus'd, my Coffers ransack'd, my reputation gnawne at, and I
shall not onely receiue this villanous wrong, but stand vnder the
adoption of abhominable termes, and by him that does mee this wrong:
Termes, names: Amaimon sounds well: Lucifer, well: Barbason, well: yet
they are Diuels additions, the names of fiends: But Cuckold, Wittoll,
Cuckold? the Diuell himselfe hath not such a name. Page is an Asse, a
secure Asse; hee will trust his wife, hee will not be iealous: I will
rather trust a Fleming with my butter, Parson Hugh the Welshman with my
Cheese, an Irish-man with my Aqua-vitae-bottle, or a Theefe to walke my
ambling gelding, then my wife with her selfe. Then she plots, then shee
ruminates, then shee deuises: and what they thinke in their hearts they
may effect; they will breake their hearts but they will effect. Heauen
bee prais'd for my iealousie: eleuen o' clocke the howre, I will
preuent this, detect my wife, bee reueng'd on Falstaffe, and laugh at
Page. I will about it, better three houres too soone, then a mynute too
late: fie, fie, fie: Cuckold, Cuckold, Cuckold.

Enter.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Caius, Rugby, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host.

Caius. Iacke Rugby

Rug. Sir

Caius. Vat is the clocke, Iack

Rug. 'Tis past the howre (Sir) that Sir Hugh promis'd to meet

Cai. By gar, he has saue his soule, dat he is no-come: hee has pray
his Pible well, dat he is no-come: by gar (Iack Rugby) he is dead
already, if he be come

Rug. Hee is wise Sir: hee knew your worship would kill him if he
came

Cai. By gar, de herring is no dead, so as I vill kill him: take your
Rapier, (Iacke) I vill tell you how I vill kill him

Rug. Alas sir, I cannot fence

Cai. Villaine, take your Rapier

Rug. Forbeare: heer's company

Host. 'Blesse thee, bully-Doctor

Shal. 'Saue you Mr. Doctor Caius

Page. Now good Mr. Doctor

Slen. 'Giue you good-morrow, sir

Caius. Vat be all you one, two, tree, fowre, come for?   Host. To
see thee fight, to see thee foigne, to see thee trauerse, to see thee
heere, to see thee there, to see thee passe thy puncto, thy stock, thy
reuerse, thy distance, thy montant: Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he
dead, my Francisco? ha Bully? what saies my Esculapius? my Galien? my
heart of Elder? ha? is he dead bully-Stale? is he dead?   Cai. By gar,
he is de Coward-Iack-Priest of de vorld: he is not show his face

Host. Thou art a Castalion-king-Vrinall: Hector of Greece (my Boy)

Cai. I pray you beare witnesse, that me haue stay, sixe or seuen, two
tree howres for him, and hee is nocome

Shal. He is the wiser man (M[aster]. Doctor) he is a curer of
soules, and you a curer of bodies: if you should fight, you goe against
the haire of your professions: is it not true, Master Page?

Page. Master Shallow; you haue your selfe beene a great fighter,
though now a man of peace

Shal. Body-kins M[aster]. Page, though I now be old, and of the
peace; if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one: though wee
are Iustices, and Doctors, and Church-men (M[aster]. Page) wee haue
some salt of our youth in vs, we are the sons of women (M[aster].
Page.)

Page. 'Tis true, Mr. Shallow

Shal. It wil be found so, (M[aster]. Page:) M[aster]. Doctor Caius,

I am come to fetch you home: I am sworn of the peace: you haue show'd
your selfe a wise Physician, and Sir Hugh hath showne himselfe a wise
and patient Churchman: you must goe with me, M[aster]. Doctor

Host. Pardon, Guest-Iustice; a Mounseur Mocke-water

Cai. Mock-vater? vat is dat?

Host. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is Valour (Bully.)

Cai. By gar, then I haue as much Mock-vater as de Englishman:
scuruy-Iack-dog-Priest: by gar, mee vill cut his eares

Host. He will Clapper-claw thee tightly (Bully.)

Cai. Clapper-de-claw? vat is dat?

Host. That is, he will make thee amends

Cai. By-gar, me doe looke hee shall clapper-de-claw me, for by-gar,
me vill haue it

Host. And I will prouoke him to't, or let him wag

Cai. Me tanck you for dat

Host. And moreouer, (Bully) but first, Mr. Ghuest, and M[aster].
Page, & eeke Caualeiro Slender, goe you through the Towne to Frogmore

Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he?

Host. He is there, see what humor he is in: and I will bring the
Doctor about by the Fields: will it doe well?   Shal. We will doe it

All. Adieu, good M[aster]. Doctor

Cai. By-gar, me vill kill de Priest, for he speake for a Iack-an-Ape
to Anne Page

Host. Let him die: sheath thy impatience: throw cold water on thy
Choller: goe about the fields with mee through Frogmore, I will bring
thee where Mistris Anne Page is, at a Farm-house a Feasting: and thou
shalt wooe her: Cride-game, said I well?

Cai. By-gar, mee dancke you vor dat: by gar I loue you: and I shall
procure 'a you de good Guest: de Earle, de Knight, de Lords, de
Gentlemen, my patients

Host. For the which, I will be thy aduersary toward Anne Page: said
I well?

Cai. By-gar, 'tis good: vell said

Host. Let vs wag then

Cai. Come at my heeles, Iack Rugby.

Exeunt.



Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.

Enter Euans, Simple, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Caius, Rugby.

Euans. I pray you now, good Master Slenders seruingman, and friend
Simple by your name; which way haue you look'd for Master Caius, that
calls himselfe Doctor of Phisicke

Sim. Marry Sir, the pittie-ward, the Parke-ward: euery way: olde
Windsor way, and euery way but the Towne-way

Euan. I most fehemently desire you, you will also looke that way

Sim. I will sir

Euan. 'Plesse my soule: how full of Chollors I am, and trempling of
minde: I shall be glad if he haue deceiued me: how melancholies I am? I
will knog his Vrinalls about his knaues costard, when I haue good
oportunities for the orke: 'Plesse my soule: To shallow Riuers to whose
falls: melodious Birds sings Madrigalls: There will we make our Peds of
Roses: and a thousand fragrant posies. To shallow: 'Mercie on mee, I
haue a great dispositions to cry. Melodious birds sing Madrigalls: -
When as I sat in Pabilon: and a thousand vagram Posies. To shallow, &c

Sim. Yonder he is comming, this way, Sir Hugh

Euan. Hee's welcome: To shallow Riuers, to whose fals: Heauen
prosper the right: what weapons is he?   Sim. No weapons, Sir: there
comes my Master, Mr. Shallow, and another Gentleman; from Frogmore,
ouer the stile, this way

Euan. Pray you giue mee my gowne, or else keepe it in your armes

Shal. How now Master Parson? good morrow good Sir Hugh: keepe a
Gamester from the dice, and a good Studient from his booke, and it is
wonderfull

Slen. Ah sweet Anne Page

Page. 'Saue you, good Sir Hugh

Euan. 'Plesse you from his mercy-sake, all of you

Shal. What? the Sword, and the Word?

Doe you study them both, Mr. Parson?

Page. And youthfull still, in your doublet and hose, this
raw-rumaticke day?

Euan. There is reasons, and causes for it

Page. We are come to you, to doe a good office, Mr. Parson

Euan. Fery-well: what is it?

Page. Yonder is a most reuerend Gentleman; who (be-like) hauing
receiued wrong by some person, is at most odds with his owne grauity
and patience, that euer you saw

Shal. I haue liued foure-score yeeres, and vpward: I neuer heard a
man of his place, grauity, and learning, so wide of his owne respect

Euan. What is he?

Page. I thinke you know him: Mr. Doctor Caius the renowned French
Physician

Euan. Got's-will, and his passion of my heart: I had as lief you
would tell me of a messe of porredge

Page. Why?

Euan. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and   Galen , and hee is
a knaue besides: a cowardly knaue, as you would desires to be
acquainted withall

Page. I warrant you, hee's the man should fight with him

Slen. O sweet Anne Page

Shal. It appeares so by his weapons: keepe them asunder: here comes
Doctor Caius

Page. Nay good Mr. Parson, keepe in your weapon

Shal. So doe you, good Mr. Doctor

Host. Disarme them, and let them question: let them keepe their
limbs whole, and hack our English

Cai. I pray you let-a-mee speake a word with your eare; vherefore
vill you not meet-a me?

Euan. Pray you vse your patience in good time

Cai. By-gar, you are de Coward: de Iack dog: Iohn Ape

Euan. Pray you let vs not be laughing-stocks to other mens humors: I
desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends:
I will knog your Vrinal about your knaues Cogs-combe

Cai. Diable: Iack Rugby: mine Host de Iarteer: haue I not stay for
him, to kill him? haue I not at de place I did appoint?

Euan. As I am a Christians-soule, now looke you: this is the place
appointed, Ile bee iudgement by mine Host of the Garter

Host. Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaule, French & Welch, Soule-Curer,
and Body-Curer

Cai. I, dat is very good, excellant

Host. Peace, I say: heare mine Host of the Garter, Am I politicke?
Am I subtle? Am I a Machiuell? Shall I loose my Doctor? No, hee giues
me the Potions and the Motions. Shall I loose my Parson? my Priest? my
Sir Hugh? No, he giues me the Prouerbes, and the No-verbes. Giue me thy
hand (Celestiall) so: Boyes of Art, I haue deceiu'd you both: I haue
directed you to wrong places: your hearts are mighty, your skinnes are
whole, and let burn'd Sacke be the issue: Come, lay their swords to
pawne: Follow me, Lad of peace, follow, follow, follow

Shal. Trust me, a mad Host: follow Gentlemen, follow

Slen. O sweet Anne Page

Cai. Ha' do I perceiue dat? Haue you make-a-de-sot of vs, ha, ha?

Eua. This is well, he has made vs his vlowting-stog: I desire you
that we may be friends: and let vs knog our praines together to be
reuenge on this same scall scuruy-cogging-companion

the Host of the Garter

Cai. By gar, with all my heart: he promise to bring me where is Anne
Page: by gar he deceiue me too

Euan. Well, I will smite his noddles: pray you follow.

Scena Secunda.

Mist.Page, Robin, Ford, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Euans, Caius.

Mist.Page. Nay keepe your way (little Gallant) you were wont to be a
follower, but now you are a Leader: whether had you rather lead mine
eyes, or eye your masters heeles?

Rob. I had rather (forsooth) go before you like a man, then follow
him like a dwarfe

M.Pa. O you are a flattering boy, now I see you'l be a (Courtier

Ford. Well met mistris Page, whether go you

M.Pa. Truly Sir, to see your wife, is she at home?   Ford. I, and as
idle as she may hang together for want of company: I thinke if your
husbands were dead, you two would marry

M.Pa. Be sure of that, two other husbands

Ford. Where had you this pretty weather-cocke?   M.Pa. I cannot tell
what (the dickens) his name is my husband had him of, what do you cal
your Knights name sirrah?   Rob. Sir Iohn Falstaffe

Ford. Sir Iohn Falstaffe

M.Pa. He, he, I can neuer hit on's name; there is such a league
betweene my goodman, and he: is your Wife at home indeed?

Ford. Indeed she is

M.Pa. By your leaue sir, I am sicke till I see her

Ford. Has Page any braines? Hath he any eies? Hath he any thinking?
Sure they sleepe, he hath no vse of them: why this boy will carrie a
letter twentie mile as easie, as a Canon will shoot point-blanke twelue
score: hee peeces out his wiues inclination: he giues her folly motion
and aduantage: and now she's going to my wife, & Falstaffes boy with
her: A man may heare this showre sing in the winde; and Falstaffes boy
with her: good plots, they are laide, and our reuolted wiues share
damnation together. Well, I will take him, then torture my wife, plucke
the borrowed vaile of modestie from the so-seeming Mist[ris]. Page,
divulge Page himselfe for a secure and wilfull Acteon, and to these
violent proceedings all my neighbors shall cry aime. The clocke giues
me my Qu, and my assurance bids me search, there I shall finde
Falstaffe: I shall be rather praisd for this, then mock'd, for it is as
possitiue, as the earth is firme, that Falstaffe is there: I will go

Shal. Page, &c. Well met Mr Ford

Ford. Trust me, a good knotte; I haue good cheere at home, and I
pray you all go with me

Shal. I must excuse my selfe Mr Ford

Slen. And so must I Sir,

We haue appointed to dine with Mistris Anne, And I would not breake
with her for more mony Then Ile speake of

Shal. We haue linger'd about a match betweene An Page, and my cozen
Slender, and this day wee shall haue our answer

Slen. I hope I haue your good will Father Page

Pag. You haue Mr Slender, I stand wholly for you, But my wife (Mr
Doctor) is for you altogether

Cai. I be-gar, and de Maid is loue-a-me: my nursh-a-Quickly tell me
so mush

Host. What say you to yong Mr Fenton? He capers, he dances, he has
eies of youth: he writes verses, hee speakes holliday, he smels April
and May, he wil carry't, he will carry't, 'tis in his buttons, he will
carry't

Page. Not by my consent I promise you. The Gentleman is of no
hauing, hee kept companie with the wilde Prince, and Pointz: he is of
too high a Region, he knows too much: no, hee shall not knit a knot in
his fortunes, with the finger of my substance: if he take her, let him
take her simply: the wealth I haue waits on my consent, and my consent
goes not that way

Ford. I beseech you heartily, some of you goe home with me to
dinner: besides your cheere you shall haue sport, I will shew you a
monster: Mr Doctor, you shal go, so shall you Mr Page, and you Sir
Hugh

Shal. Well, fare you well:

We shall haue the freer woing at Mr Pages

Cai. Go home Iohn Rugby, I come anon

Host. Farewell my hearts, I will to my honest Knight Falstaffe, and
drinke Canarie with him

Ford. I thinke I shall drinke in Pipe-wine first with him, Ile make
him dance. Will you go Gentles?   All. Haue with you, to see this
Monster.



Scena Tertia.

Enter M.Ford, M.Page, Seruants, Robin, Falstaffe, Ford, Page, Caius,

Euans.

Mist.Ford. What Iohn, what Robert

M.Page. Quickly, quickly: Is the Buck-basket -   Mis.Ford. I
warrant. What Robin I say

Mis.Page. Come, come, come

Mist.Ford. Heere, set it downe

M.Pag. Giue your men the charge, we must be briefe

M.Ford. Marrie, as I told you before (Iohn & Robert) be ready here
hard-by in the Brew-house, & when I sodainly call you, come forth, and
(without any pause, or staggering) take this basket on your shoulders:
y done, trudge with it in all hast, and carry it among the Whitsters in
Dotchet Mead, and there empty it in the muddie ditch, close by the
Thames side

M.Page. You will do it?

M.Ford. I ha told them ouer and ouer, they lacke no direction. Be
gone, and come when you are call'd

M.Page. Here comes little Robin

Mist.Ford. How now my Eyas-Musket, what newes with you?   Rob. My
M[aster]. Sir Iohn is come in at your backe doore (Mist[ris]. Ford, and
requests your company

M.Page. You litle Iack-a-lent, haue you bin true to vs   Rob. I, Ile
be sworne: my Master knowes not of your being heere: and hath threatned
to put me into euerlasting liberty, if I tell you of it: for he sweares
he'll turne me away

Mist.Pag. Thou'rt a good boy: this secrecy of thine shall be a
Tailor to thee, and shal make thee a new doublet and hose. Ile go hide
me

Mi.Ford. Do so: go tell thy Master, I am alone: Mistris Page,
remember you your Qu

Mist.Pag. I warrant thee, if I do not act it, hisse me

Mist.Ford. Go-too then: we'l vse this vnwholsome humidity, this
grosse-watry Pumpion; we'll teach him to know Turtles from Iayes

Fal. Haue I caught thee, my heauenly Iewell? Why now let me die, for
I haue liu'd long enough: This is the period of my ambition: O this
blessed houre

Mist.Ford. O sweet Sir Iohn

Fal. Mistris Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate (Mist[ris]. Ford)
now shall I sin in my wish; I would thy Husband were dead, Ile speake
it before the best Lord, I would make thee my Lady

Mist.Ford. I your Lady Sir Iohn? Alas, I should bee a pittifull
Lady

Fal. Let the Court of France shew me such another: I see how thine
eye would emulate the Diamond: Thou hast the right arched-beauty of the
brow, that becomes the Ship-tyre, the Tyre-valiant, or any Tire of
Venetian admittance

Mist.Ford. A plaine Kerchiefe, Sir Iohn: My browes become nothing
else, nor that well neither

Fal. Thou art a tyrant to say so: thou wouldst make an absolute
Courtier, and the firme fixture of thy foote, would giue an excellent
motion to thy gate, in a semicircled Farthingale. I see what thou wert
if Fortune thy foe, were not Nature thy friend: Come, thou canst not
hide it

Mist.Ford. Beleeue me, ther's no such thing in me

Fal. What made me loue thee? Let that perswade thee. Ther's
something extraordinary in thee: Come, I cannot cog, and say thou art
this and that, like a-manie of these lisping-hauthorne buds, that come
like women in mens apparrell, and smell like Bucklers-berry in simple
time: I cannot, but I loue thee, none but thee; and thou deseru'st it

M.Ford. Do not betray me sir, I fear you loue M[istris]. Page

Fal. Thou mightst as well say, I loue to walke by the Counter-gate,
which is as hatefull to me, as the reeke of a Lime-kill

Mis.Ford. Well, heauen knowes how I loue you, And you shall one day
finde it

Fal. Keepe in that minde, Ile deserue it

Mist.Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you doe; Or else I could not be
in that minde

Rob. Mistris Ford, Mistris Ford: heere's Mistris Page at the doore,
sweating, and blowing, and looking wildely, and would needs speake with
you presently

Fal. She shall not see me, I will ensconce mee behinde the Arras

M.Ford. Pray you do so, she's a very tatling woman. Whats the
matter? How now?

Mist.Page. O mistris Ford what haue you done? You'r sham'd, y'are
ouerthrowne, y'are vndone for euer

M.Ford. What's the matter, good mistris Page?   M.Page. O weladay,
mist[ris]. Ford, hauing an honest man to your husband, to giue him such
cause of suspition

M.Ford. What cause of suspition?

M.Page. What cause of suspition? Out vpon you: How am I mistooke in
you?

M.Ford. Why (alas) what's the matter?

M.Page. Your husband's comming hether (Woman) with all the Officers
in Windsor, to search for a Gentleman, that he sayes is heere now in
the house; by your consent to take an ill aduantage of his absence: you
are vndone

M.Ford. 'Tis not so, I hope

M.Page. Pray heauen it be not so, that you haue such a man heere:
but 'tis most certaine your husband's comming, with halfe Windsor at
his heeles, to serch for such a one, I come before to tell you: If you
know your selfe cleere, why I am glad of it: but if you haue a friend
here, conuey, conuey him out. Be not amaz'd, call all your senses to
you, defend your reputation, or bid farwell to your good life for euer

M.Ford. What shall I do? There is a Gentleman my deere friend: and I
feare not mine owne shame so much, as his perill. I had rather then a
thousand pound he were out of the house

M.Page. For shame, neuer stand (you had rather, and you had rather:)
your husband's heere at hand, bethinke you of some conueyance: in the
house you cannot hide him. Oh, how haue you deceiu'd me? Looke, heere
is a basket, if he be of any reasonable stature, he may creepe in
heere, and throw fowle linnen vpon him, as if it were going to bucking:
Or it is whiting time, send him by your two men to Datchet-Meade

M.Ford. He's too big to go in there: what shall I do?   Fal. Let me
see't, let me see't, O let me see't: Ile in, Ile in: Follow your
friends counsell, Ile in

M.Page. What Sir Iohn Falstaffe? Are these your Letters, Knight?

Fal. I loue thee, helpe mee away: let me creepe in heere: ile neuer
-

M.Page. Helpe to couer your master (Boy:) Call your men (Mist[ris].
Ford.) You dissembling Knight

M.Ford. What Iohn, Robert, Iohn; Go, take vp these cloathes heere,
quickly: Wher's the Cowle-staffe? Look how you drumble? Carry them to
the Landresse in Datchet mead: quickly, come

Ford. 'Pray you come nere: if I suspect without cause, Why then make
sport at me, then let me be your iest, I deserue it: How now? Whether
beare you this?   Ser. To the Landresse forsooth?

M.Ford. Why, what haue you to doe whether they beare it? You were
best meddle with buck-washing

Ford. Buck? I would I could wash my selfe of y Buck: Bucke, bucke,
bucke, I bucke: I warrant you Bucke, And of the season too; it shall
appeare.

Gentlemen, I haue dream'd to night, Ile tell you my dreame: heere,
heere, heere bee my keyes, ascend my Chambers, search, seeke, finde
out: Ile warrant wee'le vnkennell the Fox. Let me stop this way first:
so, now vncape

Page. Good master Ford, be contented:

You wrong your selfe too much

Ford. True (master Page) vp Gentlemen, You shall see sport anon:

Follow me Gentlemen

Euans. This is fery fantasticall humors and iealousies

Caius. By gar, 'tis no-the fashion of France: It is not iealous in
France

Page. Nay follow him (Gentlemen) see the yssue of his search

Mist.Page. Is there not a double excellency in this?   Mist.Ford. I
know not which pleases me better, That my husband is deceiued, or Sir
Iohn

Mist.Page. What a taking was hee in, when your husband askt who was
in the basket?

Mist.Ford. I am halfe affraid he will haue neede of washing: so
throwing him into the water, will doe him a benefit

Mist.Page. Hang him dishonest rascall: I would all of the same
straine, were in the same distresse

Mist.Ford. I thinke my husband hath some speciall suspition of
Falstaffs being heere: for I neuer saw him so grosse in his iealousie
till now

Mist.Page. I will lay a plot to try that, and wee will yet haue more
trickes with Falstaffe: his dissolute disease will scarse obey this
medicine

Mis.Ford. Shall we send that foolishion Carion, Mist[ris]. Quickly
to him, and excuse his throwing into the water, and giue him another
hope, to betray him to another punishment?

Mist.Page. We will do it: let him be sent for to morrow eight a
clocke to haue amends

Ford. I cannot finde him: may be the knaue bragg'd of that he could
not compasse

Mis.Page. Heard you that?

Mis.Ford. You vse me well, M[aster]. Ford? Do you?   Ford. I, I do
so

M.Ford. Heauen make you better then your thoghts   Ford. Amen

Mi.Page. You do your selfe mighty wrong (M[aster]. Ford)   Ford. I,
I: I must beare it

Eu. If there be any pody in the house, & in the chambers, and in the
coffers, and in the presses: heauen forgiue my sins at the day of
iudgement

Caius. Be gar, nor I too: there is no-bodies

Page. Fy, fy, M[aster]. Ford, are you not asham'd? What spirit, what
diuell suggests this imagination? I wold not ha your distemper in this
kind, for y welth of Windsor castle

Ford. 'Tis my fault (M[aster]. Page) I suffer for it

Euans. You suffer for a pad conscience: your wife is as honest a
o'mans, as I will desires among fiue thousand, and fiue hundred too

Cai. By gar, I see 'tis an honest woman

Ford. Well, I promisd you a dinner: come, come, walk in the Parke, I
pray you pardon me: I wil hereafter make knowne to you why I haue done
this. Come wife, come Mi[stris]. Page, I pray you pardon me. Pray
hartly pardon me

Page. Let's go in Gentlemen, but (trust me) we'l mock him: I doe
inuite you to morrow morning to my house to breakfast: after we'll a
Birding together, I haue a fine Hawke for the bush. Shall it be so:

Ford. Any thing

Eu. If there is one, I shall make two in the Companie   Ca. If there
be one, or two, I shall make-a-theturd

Ford. Pray you go, M[aster]. Page

Eua. I pray you now remembrance to morrow on the lowsie knaue, mine
Host

Cai. Dat is good by gar, withall my heart

Eua. A lowsie knaue, to haue his gibes, and his mockeries.

Exeunt.



Scoena Quarta.

Enter Fenton, Anne, Page, Shallow, Slender, Quickly, Page, Mist.Page.

Fen. I see I cannot get thy Fathers loue, Therefore no more turne me
to him (sweet Nan.)

Anne. Alas, how then?

Fen. Why thou must be thy selfe.

He doth obiect, I am too great of birth,

And that my state being gall'd with my expence, I seeke to heale it
onely by his wealth.

Besides these, other barres he layes before me, My Riots past, my wilde
Societies,

And tels me 'tis a thing impossible

I should loue thee, but as a property

An. May be he tels you true.

No, heauen so speed me in my time to come, Albeit I will confesse, thy
Fathers wealth Was the first motiue that I woo'd thee (Anne:) Yet
wooing thee, I found thee of more valew Then stampes in Gold, or summes
in sealed bagges: And 'tis the very riches of thy selfe,

That now I ayme at

An. Gentle M[aster]. Fenton,

Yet seeke my Fathers loue, still seeke it sir, If opportunity and
humblest suite

Cannot attaine it, why then harke you hither

Shal. Breake their talke Mistris Quickly. My Kinsman shall speake
for himselfe

Slen. Ile make a shaft or a bolt on't, slid, tis but venturing

Shal. Be not dismaid

Slen. No, she shall not dismay me:

I care not for that, but that I am affeard

Qui. Hark ye, M[aster]. Slender would speak a word with you   An. I
come to him. This is my Fathers choice: O what a world of vilde
ill-fauour'd faults Lookes handsome in three hundred pounds a yeere?
Qui. And how do's good Master Fenton?

Pray you a word with you

Shal. Shee's comming; to her Coz:

O boy, thou hadst a father

Slen. I had a father (M[istris]. An) my vncle can tel you good iests
of him: pray you Vncle, tel Mist[ris]. Anne the iest how my Father
stole two Geese out of a Pen, good Vnckle

Shal. Mistris Anne, my Cozen loues you

Slen. I that I do, as well as I loue any woman in Glocestershire

Shal. He will maintaine you like a Gentlewoman

Slen. I that I will, come cut and long-taile, vnder the degree of a
Squire

Shal. He will make you a hundred and fiftie pounds ioynture

Anne. Good Maister Shallow let him woo for himselfe

Shal. Marrie I thanke you for it: I thanke you for that good
comfort: she cals you (Coz) Ile leaue you

Anne. Now Master Slender

Slen. Now good Mistris Anne

Anne. What is your will?

Slen. My will? Odd's-hartlings, that's a prettie iest indeede: I
ne're made my Will yet (I thanke Heauen:) I am not such a sickely
creature, I giue Heauen praise

Anne. I meane (M[aster]. Slender) what wold you with me?   Slen.
Truely, for mine owne part, I would little or nothing with you: your
father and my vncle hath made motions: if it be my lucke, so; if not,
happy man bee his dole, they can tell you how things go, better then I
can: you may aske your father, heere he comes

Page. Now Mr Slender; Loue him daughter Anne. Why how now? What does
Mr Fenten here?

You wrong me Sir, thus still to haunt my house. I told you Sir, my
daughter is disposd of

Fen. Nay Mr Page, be not impatient

Mist.Page. Good M[aster]. Fenton, come not to my child

Page. She is no match for you

Fen. Sir, will you heare me?

Page. No, good M[aster]. Fenton.

Come M[aster]. Shallow: Come sonne Slender, in; Knowing my minde, you
wrong me (M[aster]. Fenton.)

Qui. Speake to Mistris Page

Fen. Good Mist[ris]. Page, for that I loue your daughter In such a
righteous fashion as I do,

Perforce, against all checkes, rebukes, and manners, I must aduance the
colours of my loue,

And not retire. Let me haue your good will

An. Good mother, do not marry me to yond foole

Mist.Page. I meane it not, I seeke you a better husband

Qui. That's my master, M[aster]. Doctor

An. Alas I had rather be set quick i'th earth, And bowl'd to death
with Turnips

Mist.Page. Come, trouble not your selfe good M[aster]. Fenton, I
will not be your friend, nor enemy: My daughter will I question how she
loues you, And as I finde her, so am I affected:

Till then, farewell Sir, she must needs go in, Her father will be
angry

Fen. Farewell gentle Mistris: farewell Nan

Qui. This is my doing now: Nay, saide I, will you cast away your
childe on a Foole, and a Physitian: Looke on M[aster]. Fenton, this is
my doing

Fen. I thanke thee: and I pray thee once to night, Giue my sweet Nan
this Ring: there's for thy paines

Qui. Now heauen send thee good fortune, a kinde heart he hath: a
woman would run through fire & water for such a kinde heart. But yet, I
would my Maister had Mistris Anne, or I would M[aster]. Slender had
her: or (in sooth) I would M[aster]. Fenton had her; I will do what I
can for them all three, for so I haue promisd, and Ile bee as good as
my word, but speciously for M[aster]. Fenton. Well, I must of another
errand to Sir Iohn Falstaffe from my two Mistresses: what a beast am I
to slacke it.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Falstaffe, Bardolfe, Quickly, Ford.

Fal. Bardolfe I say

Bar. Heere Sir

Fal. Go, fetch me a quart of Sacke, put a tost in't. Haue I liu'd to
be carried in a Basket like a barrow of butchers Offall? and to be
throwne in the Thames? Wel, if I be seru'd such another tricke, Ile
haue my braines 'tane out and butter'd, and giue them to a dogge for a
New-yeares gift. The rogues slighted me into the riuer with as little
remorse, as they would haue drown'de a blinde bitches Puppies, fifteene
i'th litter: and you may know by my size, that I haue a kinde of
alacrity in sinking: if the bottome were as deepe as hell, I shold
down. I had beene drown'd, but that the shore was sheluy and shallow: a
death that I abhorre: for the water swelles a man; and what a thing
should I haue beene, when I had beene swel'd? I should haue beene a
Mountaine of Mummie

Bar. Here's M[istris]. Quickly Sir to speake with you

Fal. Come, let me poure in some Sack to the Thames water: for my
bellies as cold as if I had swallow'd snowbals, for pilles to coole the
reines. Call her in

Bar. Come in woman

Qui. By your leaue: I cry you mercy?

Giue your worship good morrow

Fal. Take away these Challices:

Go, brew me a pottle of Sacke finely

Bard. With Egges, Sir?

Fal. Simple of it selfe: Ile no Pullet-Spersme in my brewage. How
now?

Qui. Marry Sir, I come to your worship from M[istris]. Ford

Fal. Mist[ris]. Ford? I haue had Ford enough: I was thrown into the
Ford; I haue my belly full of Ford

Qui. Alas the day, (good-heart) that was not her fault: she do's so
take on with her men; they mistooke their erection

Fal. So did I mine, to build vpon a foolish Womans promise

Qui. Well, she laments Sir for it, that it would yern your heart to
see it: her husband goes this morning a birding; she desires you once
more to come to her, betweene eight and nine: I must carry her word
quickely, she'll make you amends I warrant you

Fal. Well, I will visit her, tell her so: and bidde her thinke what
a man is: Let her consider his frailety, and then iudge of my merit

Qui. I will tell her

Fal. Do so. Betweene nine and ten saist thou?   Qui. Eight and nine
Sir

Fal. Well, be gone: I will not misse her

Qui. Peace be with you Sir

Fal. I meruaile I heare not of Mr Broome: he sent me word to stay
within: I like his money well. Oh, heere he comes

Ford. Blesse you Sir

Fal. Now M[aster]. Broome, you come to know What hath past betweene
me, and Fords wife

Ford. That indeed (Sir Iohn) is my businesse

Fal. M[aster]. Broome I will not lye to you, I was at her house the
houre she appointed me

Ford. And sped you Sir?

Fal. Very ill-fauouredly M[aster]. Broome

Ford. How so sir, did she change her determination?   Fal. No
(M[aster]. Broome) but the peaking Curnuto her husband (M[aster].
Broome) dwelling in a continual larum of ielousie, coms me in the
instant of our encounter, after we had embrast, kist, protested, & (as
it were) spoke the prologue of our Comedy: and at his heeles, a rabble
of his companions, thither prouoked and instigated by his distemper,
and (forsooth) to serch his house for his wiues Loue

Ford. What? While you were there?

Fal. While I was there

For. And did he search for you, & could not find you?   Fal. You
shall heare. As good lucke would haue it, comes in one Mist[ris]. Page,
giues intelligence of Fords approch: and in her inuention, and Fords
wiues distraction, they conuey'd me into a bucke-basket

Ford. A Buck-basket?

Fal. Yes: a Buck-basket: ram'd mee in with foule Shirts and Smockes,
Socks, foule Stockings, greasie Napkins, that (Master Broome) there was
the rankest compound of villanous smell, that euer offended nostrill

Ford. And how long lay you there?

Fal. Nay, you shall heare (Master Broome) what I haue sufferd, to
bring this woman to euill, for your good: Being thus cram'd in the
Basket, a couple of Fords knaues, his Hindes, were cald forth by their
Mistris, to carry mee in the name of foule Cloathes to Datchet-lane:
they tooke me on their shoulders: met the iealous knaue their Master in
the doore; who ask'd them once or twice what they had in their Basket?
I quak'd for feare least the Lunatique Knaue would haue search'd it:
but Fate (ordaining he should be a Cuckold) held his hand: well, on
went hee, for a search, and away went I for foule Cloathes: But marke
the sequell (Master Broome) I suffered the pangs of three seuerall
deaths: First, an intollerable fright, to be detected with a iealious
rotten Bell-weather: Next to be compass'd like a good Bilbo in the
circumference of a Pecke, hilt to point, heele to head. And then to be
stopt in like a strong distillation with stinking Cloathes, that
fretted in their owne grease: thinke of that, a man of my Kidney;
thinke of that, that am as subiect to heate as butter; a man of
continuall dissolution, and thaw: it was a miracle to scape
suffocation. And in the height of this Bath (when I was more then halfe
stew'd in grease (like a Dutch-dish) to be throwne into the Thames,
and

coold, glowing-hot, in that serge like a Horse-shoo; thinke of that;
hissing hot: thinke of that (Master Broome.)

Ford. In good sadnesse Sir, I am sorry, that for my sake you haue
sufferd all this.

My suite then is desperate: You'll vndertake her no more?

Fal. Master Broome: I will be throwne into Etna, as I haue beene into
Thames, ere I will leaue her thus; her Husband is this morning gone a
Birding: I haue receiued from her another ambassie of meeting: 'twixt
eight and nine is the houre (Master Broome.)

Ford. 'Tis past eight already Sir

Fal. Is it? I will then addresse mee to my appointment: Come to mee
at your conuenient leisure, and you shall know how I speede: and the
conclusion shall be crowned with your enioying her: adiew: you shall
haue her (Master Broome) Master Broome, you shall cuckold Ford

Ford. Hum: ha? Is this a vision? Is this a dreame? doe I sleepe?
Master Ford awake, awake Master Ford: ther's a hole made in your best
coate (Master Ford:) this 'tis to be married; this 'tis to haue Lynnen,
and Buckbaskets: Well, I will proclaime my selfe what I am: I will now
take the Leacher: hee is at my house: hee cannot scape me: 'tis
impossible hee should: hee cannot creepe into a halfe-penny purse, nor
into a PepperBoxe: But least the Diuell that guides him, should aide
him, I will search impossible places: though what I am, I cannot
auoide; yet to be what I would not, shall not make me tame: If I haue
hornes, to make one mad, let the prouerbe goe with me, Ile be
hornemad.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Mistris Page, Quickly, William, Euans.

Mist.Pag. Is he at M[aster]. Fords already think'st thou?   Qui. Sure
he is by this; or will be presently; but truely he is very couragious
mad, about his throwing into the water. Mistris Ford desires you to
come sodainely

Mist.Pag. Ile be with her by and by: Ile but bring my yong-man here
to Schoole: looke where his Master comes; 'tis a playing day I see: how
now Sir Hugh, no Schoole to day?

Eua. No: Master Slender is let the Boyes leaue to play

Qui 'Blessing of his heart

Mist.Pag. Sir Hugh, my husband saies my sonne profits nothing in the
world at his Booke: I pray you aske him some questions in his
Accidence

Eu. Come hither William; hold vp your head; come

Mist.Pag. Come-on Sirha; hold vp your head; answere your Master, be
not afraid

Eua. William, how many Numbers is in Nownes?   Will. Two

Qui. Truely, I thought there had bin one Number more, because they
say od's-Nownes

Eua. Peace, your tatlings. What is (Faire) William?   Will. Pulcher

Qu. Powlcats? there are fairer things then Powlcats, sure

Eua. You are a very simplicity o'man: I pray you peace. What is
(Lapis) William?

Will. A Stone

Eua. And what is a Stone (William?)

Will. A Peeble

Eua. No; it is Lapis: I pray you remember in your praine

Will. Lapis

Eua. That is a good William: what is he (William) that do's lend
Articles

Will. Articles are borrowed of the Pronoune; and be thus declined.
Singulariter nominatiuo hic, haec, hoc

Eua. Nominatiuo hig, hag, hog: pray you marke: genitiuo huius: Well:
what is your Accusatiue-case?   Will. Accusatiuo hinc

Eua. I pray you haue your remembrance (childe) Accusatiuo hing,
hang, hog

Qu. Hang-hog, is latten for Bacon, I warrant you

Eua. Leaue your prables (o'man) What is the Focatiue case
(William?)

Will. O, Vocatiuo, O

Eua. Remember William, Focatiue, is caret

Qu. And that's a good roote

Eua. O'man, forbeare

Mist.Pag. Peace

Eua. What is your Genitiue case plurall (William?)   Will. Genitiue
case?

Eua. I

Will. Genitiue horum, harum, horum

Qu. 'Vengeance of Ginyes case; fie on her; neuer name her (childe)
if she be a whore

Eua. For shame o'man

Qu. You doe ill to teach the childe such words: hee teaches him to
hic, and to hac; which they'll doe fast enough of themselues, and to
call horum; fie vpon you

Euans. O'man, art thou Lunatics? Hast thou no vnderstandings for thy
Cases, & the numbers of the Genders? Thou art as foolish Christian
creatures, as I would desires

Mi.Page. Pre'thee hold thy peace

Eu. Shew me now (William) some declensions of your Pronounes

Will. Forsooth, I haue forgot

Eu. It is Qui, que, quod; if you forget your Quies, your Ques, and
your Quods, you must be preeches: Goe your waies and play, go

M.Pag. He is a better scholler then I thought he was

Eu. He is a good sprag-memory: Farewel Mis[tris]. Page

Mis.Page. Adieu good Sir Hugh:

Get you home boy, Come we stay too long.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Falstoffe, Mist.Ford, Mist.Page, Seruants, Ford, Page, Caius,
Euans,

Shallow.

Fal. Mi[stris]. Ford, Your sorrow hath eaten vp my sufferance; I see
you are obsequious in your loue, and I professe requitall to a haires
bredth, not onely Mist[ris]. Ford, in the simple office of loue, but in
all the accustrement, complement, and ceremony of it: But are you sure
of your husband now?

Mis.Ford. Hee's a birding (sweet Sir Iohn.)

Mis.Page. What hoa, gossip Ford: what hoa

Mis.Ford. Step into th' chamber, Sir Iohn

Mis.Page. How now (sweete heart) whose at home besides your selfe?

Mis.Ford. Why none but mine owne people

Mis.Page. Indeed?

Mis.Ford. No certainly: Speake louder

Mist.Pag. Truly, I am so glad you haue no body here

Mist.Ford. Why?

Mis.Page. Why woman, your husband is in his olde lines againe: he so
takes on yonder with my husband, so railes against all married
mankinde; so curses all Eues daughters, of what complexion soeuer; and
so buffettes himselfe on the for-head: crying peere-out, peere-out,
that any madnesse I euer yet beheld, seem'd but tamenesse, ciuility,
and patience to this his distemper he is in now: I am glad the fat
Knight is not heere

Mist.Ford. Why, do's he talke of him?

Mist.Page. Of none but him, and sweares he was caried out the last
time hee search'd for him, in a Basket: Protests to my husband he is
now heere, & hath drawne him and the rest of their company from their
sport, to make another experiment of his suspition: But I am glad the
Knight is not heere; now he shall see his owne foolerie

Mist.Ford. How neere is he Mistris Page?   Mist.Pag. Hard by, at
street end; he wil be here anon

Mist.Ford. I am vndone, the Knight is heere

Mist.Page. Why then you are vtterly sham'd, & hee's but a dead man.
What a woman are you? Away with him, away with him: Better shame, then
murther

Mist.Ford. Which way should he go? How should I bestow him? Shall I
put him into the basket againe?   Fal. No, Ile come no more i'th
Basket:

May I not go out ere he come?

Mist.Page. Alas: three of Mr. Fords brothers watch the doore with
Pistols, that none shall issue out: otherwise you might slip away ere
hee came: But what make you heere?

Fal. What shall I do? Ile creepe vp into the chimney

Mist.Ford. There they alwaies vse to discharge their Birding-peeces:
creepe into the Kill-hole

Fal. Where is it?

Mist.Ford. He will seeke there on my word: Neyther Presse, Coffer,
Chest, Trunke, Well, Vault, but he hath an abstract for the remembrance
of such places, and goes to them by his Note: There is no hiding you in
the house

Fal. Ile go out then

Mist.Ford. If you goe out in your owne semblance, you die Sir Iohn,
vnlesse you go out disguis'd

Mist.Ford. How might we disguise him?

Mist.Page. Alas the day I know not, there is no womans gowne bigge
enough for him: otherwise he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a
kerchiefe, and so escape

Fal. Good hearts, deuise something: any extremitie, rather then a
mischiefe

Mist.Ford. My Maids Aunt the fat woman of Brainford, has a gowne
aboue

Mist.Page. On my word it will serue him: shee's as big as he is: and
there's her thrum'd hat, and her muffler too: run vp Sir Iohn

Mist.Ford. Go, go, sweet Sir Iohn: Mistris Page and I will looke
some linnen for your head

Mist.Page. Quicke, quicke, wee'le come dresse you straight: put on
the gowne the while

Mist.Ford. I would my husband would meete him in this shape: he
cannot abide the old woman of Brainford; he sweares she's a witch,
forbad her my house, and hath threatned to beate her

Mist.Page. Heauen guide him to thy husbands cudgell: and the diuell
guide his cudgell afterwards

Mist.Ford. But is my husband comming?

Mist.Page. I in good sadnesse is he, and talkes of the basket too,
howsoeuer he hath had intelligence

Mist.Ford. Wee'l try that: for Ile appoint my men to carry the
basket againe, to meete him at the doore with it, as they did last
time

Mist.Page. Nay, but hee'l be heere presently: let's go dresse him
like the witch of Brainford

Mist.Ford. Ile first direct my men, what they shall doe with the
basket: Goe vp, Ile bring linnen for him straight

Mist.Page. Hang him dishonest Varlet,

We cannot misuse enough:

We'll leaue a proofe by that which we will doo, Wiues may be merry, and
yet honest too:

We do not acte that often, iest, and laugh, 'Tis old, but true, Still
Swine eats all the draugh

Mist.Ford. Go Sirs, take the basket againe on your shoulders: your
Master is hard at doore: if hee bid you set it downe, obey him:
quickly, dispatch

1 Ser. Come, come, take it vp

2 Ser. Pray heauen it be not full of Knight againe

1 Ser. I hope not, I had liefe as beare so much lead

Ford. I, but if it proue true (Mr. Page) haue you any way then to
vnfoole me againe. Set downe the basket villaine: some body call my
wife: Youth in a basket: Oh you Panderly Rascals, there's a knot: a
gin, a packe, a conspiracie against me: Now shall the diuel be sham'd.
What wife I say: Come, come forth: behold what honest cloathes you send
forth to bleaching

Page. Why, this passes M[aster]. Ford: you are not to goe loose any
longer, you must be pinnion'd

Euans. Why, this is Lunaticks: this is madde, as a mad dogge

Shall. Indeed M[aster]. Ford, this is not well indeed

Ford. So say I too Sir, come hither Mistris Ford, Mistris Ford, the
honest woman, the modest wife, the vertuous creature, that hath the
iealious foole to her husband: I suspect without cause (Mistris) do I?

Mist.Ford. Heauen be my witnesse you doe, if you suspect me in any
dishonesty

Ford. Well said Brazon-face, hold it out: Come forth sirrah

Page. This passes

Mist.Ford. Are you not asham'd, let the cloths alone

Ford. I shall finde you anon

Eua. 'Tis vnreasonable; will you take vp your wiues cloathes? Come,
away

Ford. Empty the basket I say

M.Ford. Why man, why?

Ford. Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conuay'd out of my
house yesterday in this basket: why may not he be there againe, in my
house I am sure he is: my Intelligence is true, my iealousie is
reasonable, pluck me out all the linnen

Mist.Ford. If you find a man there, he shall dye a Fleas death

Page. Heer's no man

Shal. By my fidelity this is not well Mr. Ford: This wrongs you

Euans. Mr Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of
your owne heart: this is iealousies

Ford. Well, hee's not heere I seeke for

Page. No, nor no where else but in your braine

Ford. Helpe to search my house this one time: if I find not what I
seeke, shew no colour for my extremity: Let me for euer be your
Table-sport: Let them say of me, as iealous as Ford, that search'd a
hollow Wall-nut for his wiues Lemman. Satisfie me once more, once more
serch with me

M.Ford. What hoa (Mistris Page,) come you and the old woman downe:
my husband will come into the Chamber

Ford. Old woman? what old womans that?   M.Ford. Why it is my maids
Aunt of Brainford

Ford. A witch, a Queane, an olde couzening queane: Haue I not forbid
her my house. She comes of errands do's she? We are simple men, wee doe
not know what's brought to passe vnder the profession of
Fortune-telling. She workes by Charmes, by Spels, by th' Figure, & such
dawbry as this is, beyond our Element: wee know nothing. Come downe you
Witch, you Hagge you, come downe I say

Mist.Ford. Nay, good sweet husband, good Gentlemen, let him strike
the old woman

Mist.Page. Come mother Prat, Come giue me your hand

Ford. Ile Prat-her: Out of my doore, you Witch, you Ragge, you
Baggage, you Poulcat, you Runnion, out, out: Ile coniure you, Ile
fortune-tell you

Mist.Page. Are you not asham'd?

I thinke you haue kill'd the poore woman

Mist.Ford. Nay he will do it, 'tis a goodly credite for you

Ford. Hang her witch

Eua. By yea, and no, I thinke the o'man is a witch indeede: I like
not when a o'man has a great peard; I spie a great peard vnder his
muffler

Ford. Will you follow Gentlemen, I beseech you follow: see but the
issue of my iealousie: If I cry out thus vpon no traile, neuer trust me
when I open againe

Page. Let's obey his humour a little further: Come Gentlemen

Mist.Page. Trust me he beate him most pittifully

Mist.Ford. Nay by th' Masse that he did not: he beate him most
vnpittifully, me thought

Mist.Page. Ile haue the cudgell hallow'd, and hung ore the Altar, it
hath done meritorious seruice

Mist.Ford. What thinke you? May we with the warrant of woman-hood,
and the witnesse of a good conscience, pursue him with any further
reuenge?

M.Page. The spirit of wantonnesse is sure scar'd out of him, if the
diuell haue him not in fee-simple, with fine and recouery, he will
neuer (I thinke) in the way of waste, attempt vs againe

Mist.Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how wee haue seru'd him?

Mist.Page. Yes, by all meanes: if it be but to scrape the figures out
of your husbands braines: if they can find in their hearts, the poore
vnuertuous fat Knight shall be any further afflicted, wee two will
still bee the ministers

Mist.Ford. Ile warrant, they'l haue him publiquely sham'd, and me
thinkes there would be no period to the iest, should he not be
publikely sham'd

Mist.Page. Come, to the Forge with it, then shape it: I would not
haue things coole.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Host and Bardolfe.

Bar. Sir, the Germane desires to haue three of your horses: the Duke
himselfe will be to morrow at Court, and they are going to meet him

Host. What Duke should that be comes so secretly? I heare not of him
in the Court: let mee speake with the Gentlemen, they speake English?

Bar. I Sir? Ile call him to you

Host. They shall haue my horses, but Ile make them pay: Ile sauce
them, they haue had my houses a week at commaund: I haue turn'd away my
other guests, they must come off, Ile sawce them, come.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Page, Ford, Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, and Euans.

Eua. 'Tis one of the best discretions of a o'man as euer I did looke
vpon

Page. And did he send you both these Letters at an instant?

Mist.Page. Within a quarter of an houre

Ford. Pardon me (wife) henceforth do what y wilt: I rather will
suspect the Sunne with gold, Then thee with wantonnes: Now doth thy
honor stand (In him that was of late an Heretike)

As firme as faith

Page. 'Tis well, 'tis well, no more:

Be not as extreme in submission, as in offence, But let our plot go
forward: Let our wiues Yet once againe (to make vs publike sport)
Appoint a meeting with this old fat-fellow, Where we may take him, and
disgrace him for it

Ford. There is no better way then that they spoke of

Page. How? to send him word they'll meete him in the Parke at
midnight? Fie, fie, he'll neuer come

Eu. You say he has bin throwne in the Riuers: and has bin greeuously
peaten, as an old o'man: me-thinkes there should be terrors in him,
that he should not come: Me-thinkes his flesh is punish'd, hee shall
haue no desires

Page. So thinke I too

M.Ford. Deuise but how you'l vse him whe[n] he comes, And let vs two
deuise to bring him thether

Mis.Page. There is an old tale goes, that Herne the Hunter (sometime
a keeper heere in Windsor Forrest) Doth all the winter time, at still
midnight Walke round about an Oake, with great rag'd-hornes, And there
he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle, And make milch-kine yeeld
blood, and shakes a chaine In a most hideous and dreadfull manner.

You haue heard of such a Spirit, and well you know The superstitious
idle-headed-Eld

Receiu'd, and did deliuer to our age

This tale of Herne the Hunter, for a truth

Page. Why yet there want not many that do feare In deepe of night to
walke by this Hernes Oake: But what of this?

Mist.Ford. Marry this is our deuise,

That Falstaffe at that Oake shall meete with vs

Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come, And in this shape,
when you haue brought him thether, What shall be done with him? What is
your plot?   Mist.Pa. That likewise haue we thoght vpon: & thus: Nan
Page (my daughter) and my little sonne, And three or foure more of
their growth, wee'l dresse Like Vrchins, Ouphes, and Fairies, greene
and white, With rounds of waxen Tapers on their heads, And rattles in
their hands; vpon a sodaine, As Falstaffe, she, and I, are newly met,

Let them from forth a saw-pit rush at once With some diffused song:
Vpon their sight We two, in great amazednesse will flye:

Then let them all encircle him about,

And Fairy-like to pinch the vncleane Knight; And aske him why that
houre of Fairy Reuell, In their so sacred pathes, he dares to tread In
shape prophane

Ford. And till he tell the truth,

Let the supposed Fairies pinch him, sound, And burne him with their
Tapers

Mist.Page. The truth being knowne,

We'll all present our selues; dis-horne the spirit, And mocke him home
to Windsor

Ford. The children must

Be practis'd well to this, or they'll neu'r doo't

Eua. I will teach the children their behauiours: and I will be like
a Iacke-an-Apes also, to burne the Knight with my Taber

Ford. That will be excellent,

Ile go buy them vizards

Mist.Page. My Nan shall be the Queene of all the Fairies, finely
attired in a robe of white

Page. That silke will I go buy, and in that time Shall M[aster].
Slender steale my Nan away, And marry her at Eaton: go, send to
Falstaffe straight

Ford. Nay, Ile to him againe in name of Broome, Hee'l tell me all
his purpose: sure hee'l come

Mist.Page. Feare not you that: Go get vs properties And tricking for
our Fayries

Euans. Let vs about it,

It is admirable pleasures, and ferry honest knaueries

Mis.Page. Go Mist[ris]. Ford,

Send quickly to Sir Iohn, to know his minde: Ile to the Doctor, he hath
my good will,

And none but he to marry with Nan Page:

That Slender (though well landed) is an Ideot: And he, my husband best
of all affects:

The Doctor is well monied, and his friends Potent at Court: he, none
but he shall haue her, Though twenty thousand worthier come to craue
her.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Host, Simple, Falstaffe, Bardolfe, Euans, Caius, Quickly.

Host. What wouldst thou haue? (Boore) what? (thick skin) speake,
breathe, discusse: breefe, short, quicke, snap

Simp. Marry Sir, I come to speake with Sir Iohn Falstaffe from
M[aster]. Slender

Host. There's his Chamber, his House, his Castle, his standing-bed
and truckle-bed: 'tis painted about with the story of the Prodigall,
fresh and new: go, knock and call: hee'l speake like an
Anthropophaginian vnto thee: Knocke I say

Simp. There's an olde woman, a fat woman gone vp into his chamber:
Ile be so bold as stay Sir till she come downe: I come to speake with
her indeed

Host. Ha? A fat woman? The Knight may be robb'd: Ile call.
Bully-Knight, Bully Sir Iohn: speake from thy Lungs Military: Art thou
there? It is thine Host, thine Ephesian cals

Fal. How now, mine Host?

Host. Here's a Bohemian-Tartar taries the comming downe of thy
fat-woman: Let her descend (Bully) let her descend: my Chambers are
honourable: Fie, priuacy? Fie

Fal. There was (mine Host) an old-fat-woman euen now with me, but
she's gone

Simp. Pray you Sir, was't not the Wise-woman of Brainford?

Fal. I marry was it (Mussel-shell) what would you with her?

Simp. My Master (Sir) my master Slender, sent to her seeing her go
thorough the streets, to know (Sir) whether one Nim (Sir) that beguil'd
him of a chaine, had the chaine, or no

Fal. I spake with the old woman about it

Sim. And what sayes she, I pray Sir?

Fal. Marry shee sayes, that the very same man that beguil'd Master
Slender of his Chaine, cozon'd him of it

Simp. I would I could haue spoken with the Woman her selfe, I had
other things to haue spoken with her too, from him

Fal. What are they? let vs know

Host. I: come: quicke

Fal. I may not conceale them (Sir.)

Host. Conceale them, or thou di'st

Sim. Why sir, they were nothing but about Mistris Anne Page, to know
if it were my Masters fortune to haue her, or no

Fal. 'Tis, 'tis his fortune

Sim. What Sir?

Fal. To haue her, or no: goe; say the woman told me so

Sim. May I be bold to say so Sir?

Fal. I Sir: like who more bold

Sim. I thanke your worship: I shall make my Master glad with these
tydings

Host. Thou art clearkly: thou art clearkly (Sir Iohn) was there a
wise woman with thee?

Fal. I that there was (mine Host) one that hath taught me more wit,
then euer I learn'd before in my life: and I paid nothing for it
neither, but was paid for my learning

Bar. Out alas (Sir) cozonage: meere cozonage

Host. Where be my horses? speake well of them varletto

Bar. Run away with the cozoners: for so soone as I came beyond
Eaton, they threw me off, from behinde one of them, in a slough of
myre; and set spurres, and away; like three Germane-diuels; three
Doctor Faustasses

Host. They are gone but to meete the Duke (villaine) doe not say
they be fled: Germanes are honest men

Euan. Where is mine Host?

Host. What is the matter Sir?

Euan. Haue a care of your entertainments: there is a friend of mine
come to Towne, tels mee there is three Cozen-Iermans, that has cozend
all the Hosts of Reading, of Maidenhead; of Cole-brooke, of horses and
money: I tell you for good will (looke you) you are wise, and full of
gibes, and vlouting-stocks: and 'tis not conuenient you should be
cozoned. Fare you well

Cai. Ver' is mine Host de Iarteere?

Host. Here (Master Doctor) in perplexitie, and doubtfull delemma

Cai. I cannot tell vat is dat: but it is tell-a-me, dat you make
grand preparation for a Duke de Iamanie: by my trot: der is no Duke
that the Court is know, to come: I tell you for good will: adieu

Host. Huy and cry, (villaine) goe: assist me Knight, I am vndone:
fly, run: huy, and cry (villaine) I am vndone

Fal. I would all the world might be cozond, for I haue beene cozond
and beaten too: if it should come to the eare of the Court, how I haue
beene transformed; and how my transformation hath beene washd, and
cudgeld, they would melt mee out of my fat drop by drop, and liquor
Fishermens-boots with me: I warrant they would whip me with their fine
wits, till I were as crest-falne as a dride-peare: I neuer prosper'd,
since I forswore my selfe at Primero: well, if my winde were but long
enough; I would repent: Now? Whence come you?

Qui. From the two parties forsooth

Fal. The Diuell take one partie, and his Dam the other: and so they
shall be both bestowed; I haue suffer'd more for their sakes; more then
the villanous inconstancy of mans disposition is able to beare

Qui. And haue not they suffer'd? Yes, I warrant; speciously one of
them; Mistris Ford (good heart) is beaten blacke and blew, that you
cannot see a white spot about her

Fal. What tell'st thou mee of blacke, and blew? I was beaten my
selfe into all the colours of the Rainebow: and I was like to be
apprehended for the Witch of Braineford, but that my admirable
dexteritie of wit, my counterfeiting the action of an old woman
deliuer'd me, the knaue Constable had set me ith' Stocks, ith' common
Stocks, for a Witch

Qu, Sir: let me speake with you in your Chamber, you shall heare how
things goe, and (I warrant) to your content: here is a Letter will say
somewhat: (good-hearts) what adoe here is to bring you together? Sure,
one of you do's not serue heauen well, that you are so cross'd

Fal. Come vp into my Chamber.

Exeunt.



Scena Sexta.

Enter Fenton, Host.

Host. Master Fenton, talke not to mee, my minde is heauy: I will giue
ouer all

Fen. Yet heare me speake: assist me in my purpose, And (as I am a
gentleman) ile giue thee

A hundred pound in gold, more then your losse

Host. I will heare you (Master Fenton) and I will (at the least)
keepe your counsell

Fen. From time to time, I haue acquainted you With the deare loue I
beare to faire Anne Page, Who, mutually, hath answer'd my affection,
(So farre forth, as her selfe might be her chooser) Euen to my wish; I
haue a letter from her Of such contents, as you will wonder at;

The mirth whereof, so larded with my matter, That neither (singly) can
be manifested

Without the shew of both: fat Falstaffe

Hath a great Scene; the image of the iest Ile show you here at large
(harke good mine Host:) To night at Hernes-Oke, iust 'twixt twelue and
one, Must my sweet Nan present the Faerie-Queene: The purpose why, is
here: in which disguise While other Iests are something ranke on foote,
Her father hath commanded her to slip

Away with Slender, and with him, at Eaton Immediately to Marry: She
hath consented: Now Sir, Her Mother, (euen strong against that match
And firme for Doctor Caius) hath appointed That he shall likewise
shuffle her away,

While other sports are tasking of their mindes, And at the Deanry,
where a Priest attends Strait marry her: to this her Mothers plot She
seemingly obedient) likewise hath

Made promise to the Doctor: Now, thus it rests, Her Father meanes she
shall be all in white; And in that habit, when Slender sees his time To
take her by the hand, and bid her goe, She shall goe with him: her
Mother hath intended (The better to deuote her to the Doctor;

For they must all be mask'd, and vizarded) That quaint in greene, she
shall be loose en-roab'd, With Ribonds-pendant, flaring 'bout her head;
And when the Doctor spies his vantage ripe, To pinch her by the hand,
and on that token, The maid hath giuen consent to go with him

Host. Which meanes she to deceiue? Father, or Mother

Fen. Both (my good Host) to go along with me: And heere it rests,
that you'l procure the Vicar To stay for me at Church, 'twixt twelue,
and one, And in the lawfull name of marrying,

To giue our hearts vnited ceremony

Host. Well, husband your deuice; Ile to the Vicar, Bring you the
Maid, you shall not lacke a Priest

Fen. So shall I euermore be bound to thee; Besides, Ile make a
present recompence.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Falstoffe, Quickly, and Ford.

Fal. Pre'thee no more pratling: go, Ile hold, this is the third time:
I hope good lucke lies in odde numbers: Away, go, they say there is
Diuinity in odde Numbers, either in natiuity, chance, or death: away

Qui. Ile prouide you a chaine, and Ile do what I can to get you a
paire of hornes

Fall. Away I say, time weares, hold vp your head & mince. How now
M[aster]. Broome? Master Broome, the matter will be knowne to night, or
neuer. Bee you in the Parke about midnight, at Hernes-Oake, and you
shall see wonders

Ford. Went you not to her yesterday (Sir) as you told me you had
appointed?

Fal. I went to her (Master Broome) as you see, like a poore-old-man,
but I came from her (Master Broome) like a poore-old-woman; that same
knaue (Ford hir husband) hath the finest mad diuell of iealousie in him
(Master Broome) that euer gouern'd Frensie. I will tell you, he beate
me greeuously, in the shape of a woman: (for in the shape of Man
(Master Broome) I feare not Goliath with a Weauers beame, because I
know also, life is a Shuttle) I am in hast, go along with mee, Ile tell
you all (Master Broome:) since I pluckt Geese, plaide Trewant, and
whipt Top, I knew not what 'twas to be beaten, till lately. Follow mee,
Ile tell you strange things of this knaue Ford, on whom to night I will
be reuenged, and I will deliuer his wife into your hand. Follow,
straunge things in hand (M[aster]. Broome) follow.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Page, Shallow, Slender.

Page. Come, come: wee'll couch i'th Castle-ditch, till we see the
light of our Fairies. Remember son Slender, my

Slen. I forsooth, I haue spoke with her, & we haue a nay-word, how to
know one another. I come to her in white, and cry Mum; she cries
Budget, and by that we know one another

Shal. That's good too: But what needes either your Mum, or her
Budget? The white will decipher her well enough. It hath strooke ten a'
clocke

Page. The night is darke, Light and Spirits will become it wel:
Heauen prosper our sport. No man means euill but the deuill, and we
shal know him by his hornes. Lets away: follow me.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Mist.Page, Mist.Ford, Caius.

Mist.Page. Mr Doctor, my daughter is in green, when you see your
time, take her by the hand, away with her to the Deanerie, and dispatch
it quickly: go before into the Parke: we two must go together

Cai. I know vat I haue to do, adieu

Mist.Page. Fare you well (Sir:) my husband will not reioyce so much
at the abuse of Falstaffe, as he will chafe at the Doctors marrying my
daughter: But 'tis no matter; better a little chiding, then a great
deale of heartbreake

Mist.Ford. Where is Nan now? and her troop of Fairies? and the
Welch-deuill Herne?

Mist.Page. They are all couch'd in a pit hard by Hernes Oake, with
obscur'd Lights; which at the very instant of Falstaffes and our
meeting, they will at once display to the night

Mist.Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him

Mist.Page. If he be not amaz'd he will be mock'd: If he be amaz'd,
he will euery way be mock'd

Mist.Ford. Wee'll betray him finely

Mist.Page. Against such Lewdsters, and their lechery, Those that
betray them, do no treachery

Mist.Ford. The houre drawes-on: to the Oake, to the Oake.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Euans and Fairies.

Euans. Trib, trib Fairies: Come, and remember your parts: be pold (I
pray you) follow me into the pit, and when I giue the watch-'ords, do
as I pid you: Come, come, trib, trib.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Falstaffe, Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, Euans, Anne Page,
Fairies,

Page, Ford, Quickly, Slender, Fenton, Caius, Pistoll.

Fal. The Windsor-bell hath stroke twelue: the Minute drawes-on: Now
the hot-bloodied-Gods assist me: Remember Ioue, thou was't a Bull for
thy Europa, Loue set on thy hornes. O powerfull Loue, that in some
respects makes a Beast a Man: in som other, a Man a beast. You were
also (Iupiter) a Swan, for the loue of Leda: O omnipotent Loue, how
nere the God drew to the complexion of a Goose: a fault done first in
the forme of a beast, (O Ioue, a beastly fault:) and then another
fault, in the semblance of a Fowle, thinke on't (Ioue) a fowle-fault.
When Gods haue hot backes, what shall poore men do? For me, I am heere
a Windsor Stagge, and the fattest (I thinke) i'th Forrest. Send me a
coole rut-time (Ioue) or who can blame me to pisse my Tallow? Who comes
heere? my Doe?

M.Ford. Sir Iohn? Art thou there (my Deere?) My male-Deere?

Fal. My Doe, with the blacke Scut? Let the skie raine Potatoes: let
it thunder, to the tune of Greenesleeues, haile-kissing Comfits, and
snow Eringoes: Let there come a tempest of prouocation, I will shelter
mee heere

M.Ford. Mistris Page is come with me (sweet hart.)

Fal. Diuide me like a brib'd-Bucke, each a Haunch: I will keepe my
sides to my selfe, my shoulders for the fellow of this walke; and my
hornes I bequeath your husbands. Am I a Woodman, ha? Speake I like
Herne the Hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience, he makes
restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome

M.Page. Alas, what noise?

M.Ford. Heauen forgiue our sinnes

Fal. What should this be?

M.Ford. M.Page. Away, away

Fal. I thinke the diuell wil not haue me damn'd, Least the oyle
that's in me should set hell on fire; He would neuer else crosse me
thus.

Enter Fairies.

Qui. Fairies blacke, gray, greene, and white, You Moone-shine
reuellers, and shades of night. You Orphan heires of fixed destiny,

Attend your office, and your quality.

Crier Hob-goblyn, make the Fairy Oyes

Pist. Elues, list your names: Silence you aiery toyes. Cricket, to
Windsor-chimnies shalt thou leape; Where fires thou find'st vnrak'd,
and hearths vnswept, There pinch the Maids as blew as Bill-berry, Our
radiant Queene, hates Sluts, and Sluttery

Fal. They are Fairies, he that speaks to them shall die, Ile winke,
and couch: No man their workes must eie

Eu. Wher's Bede? Go you, and where you find a maid That ere she
sleepe has thrice her prayers said, Raise vp the Organs of her
fantasie,

Sleepe she as sound as carelesse infancie, But those as sleepe, and
thinke not on their sins, Pinch them armes, legs, backes, shoulders,
sides, & shins

Qu. About, about:

Search Windsor Castle (Elues) within, and out. Strew good lucke
(Ouphes) on euery sacred roome, That it may stand till the perpetuall
doome, In state as wholsome, as in state 'tis fit, Worthy the Owner,
and the Owner it.

The seuerall Chaires of Order, looke you scowre With iuyce of Balme;
and euery precious flowre, Each faire Instalment, Coate, and seu'rall
Crest, With loyall Blazon, euermore be blest.

And Nightly-meadow-Fairies, looke you sing Like to the
Garters-Compasse, in a ring

Th' expressure that it beares: Greene let it be, More fertile-fresh
then all the Field to see: And, Hony Soit Qui Maly-Pence, write

In Emrold-tuffes, Flowres purple, blew, and white, Like Saphire-pearle,
and rich embroiderie, Buckled below faire Knight-hoods bending knee;
Fairies vse Flowres for their characterie. Away, disperse: But till
'tis one a clocke, Our Dance of Custome, round about the Oke Of Herne
the Hunter, let vs not forget

Euan. Pray you lock hand in hand: your selues in order set: And
twenty glow-wormes shall our Lanthornes bee To guide our Measure round
about the Tree. But stay, I smell a man of middle earth

Fal. Heauens defend me from that Welsh Fairy, Least he transforme me
to a peece of Cheese

Pist. Vilde worme, thou wast ore-look'd euen in thy birth

Qu. With Triall-fire touch me his finger end: If he be chaste, the
flame will backe descend And turne him to no paine: but if he start, It
is the flesh of a corrupted hart

Pist. A triall, come

Eua. Come: will this wood take fire?

Fal. Oh, oh, oh

Qui. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire. About him (Fairies)
sing a scornfull rime, And as you trip, still pinch him to your time.

The Song.

Fie on sinnefull phantasie: Fie on Lust, and Luxurie: Lust is but a
bloudy fire, kindled with vnchaste desire, Fed in heart whose flames
aspire,

As thoughts do blow them higher and higher. Pinch him (Fairies)
mutually: Pinch him for his villanie. Pinch him, and burne him, and
turne him about, Till Candles, & Star-light, & Moone-shine be out

Page. Nay do not flye, I thinke we haue watcht you now: Will none
but Herne the Hunter serue your turne?

M.Page. I pray you come, hold vp the iest no higher. Now (good Sir
Iohn) how like you Windsor wiues? See you these husband? Do not these
faire yoakes Become the Forrest better then the Towne?   Ford. Now Sir,
whose a Cuckold now?

Mr Broome, Falstaffes a Knaue, a Cuckoldly knaue, Heere are his hornes
Master Broome:

And Master Broome, he hath enioyed nothing of Fords, but his
Buck-basket, his cudgell, and twenty pounds of money, which must be
paid to Mr Broome, his horses are arrested for it, Mr Broome

M.Ford. Sir Iohn, we haue had ill lucke: wee could neuer meete: I
will neuer take you for my Loue againe, but I will alwayes count you my
Deere

Fal. I do begin to perceiue that I am made an Asse

Ford. I, and an Oxe too: both the proofes are extant

Fal. And these are not Fairies:

I was three or foure times in the thought they were not Fairies, and
yet the guiltinesse of my minde, the sodaine surprize of my powers,
droue the grossenesse of the foppery into a receiu'd beleefe, in
despight of the teeth of all rime and reason, that they were Fairies.
See now how wit may be made a Iacke-a-Lent, when 'tis vpon ill
imployment

Euans. Sir Iohn Falstaffe, serue Got, and leaue your desires, and
Fairies will not pinse you

Ford. Well said Fairy Hugh

Euans. And leaue you your iealouzies too, I pray you

Ford. I will neuer mistrust my wife againe, till thou art able to
woo her in good English

Fal. Haue I laid my braine in the Sun, and dri'de it, that it wants
matter to preuent so grosse ore-reaching as this? Am I ridden with a
Welch Goate too? Shal I haue a Coxcombe of Frize? Tis time I were
choak'd with a peece of toasted Cheese

Eu. Seese is not good to giue putter; your belly is al putter

Fal. Seese, and Putter? Haue I liu'd to stand at the taunt of one
that makes Fritters of English? This is enough to be the decay of lust
and late-walking through the Realme

Mist.Page. Why Sir Iohn, do you thinke though wee would haue thrust
vertue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and haue giuen our
selues without scruple to hell, that euer the deuill could haue made
you our delight?

Ford. What, a hodge-pudding? A bag of flax?   Mist.Page. A puft man?

Page. Old, cold, wither'd, and of intollerable entrailes?   Ford. And
one that is as slanderous as Sathan?   Page. And as poore as Iob?

Ford. And as wicked as his wife?

Euan. And giuen to Fornications, and to Tauernes, and Sacke, and
Wine, and Metheglins, and to drinkings and swearings, and starings?
Pribles and prables?   Fal. Well, I am your Theame: you haue the start
of me, I am deiected: I am not able to answer the Welch Flannell,
Ignorance it selfe is a plummet ore me, vse me as you will

Ford. Marry Sir, wee'l bring you to Windsor to one Mr Broome, that
you haue cozon'd of money, to whom you should haue bin a Pander: ouer
and aboue that you haue suffer'd, I thinke, to repay that money will be
a biting affliction

Page. Yet be cheerefull Knight: thou shalt eat a posset to night at
my house, wher I will desire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughes
at thee: Tell her Mr Slender hath married her daughter

Mist.Page. Doctors doubt that;

If Anne Page be my daughter, she is (by this) Doctour Caius wife

Slen. Whoa hoe, hoe, Father Page

Page. Sonne? How now? How now Sonne,

Haue you dispatch'd?

Slen. Dispatch'd? Ile make the best in Glostershire know on't: would
I were hang'd la, else

Page. Of what sonne?

Slen. I came yonder at Eaton to marry Mistris Anne Page, and she's a
great lubberly boy. If it had not bene i'th Church, I would haue
swing'd him, or hee should haue swing'd me. If I did not thinke it had
beene Anne Page, would I might neuer stirre, and 'tis a Post-masters
Boy

Page. Vpon my life then, you tooke the wrong

Slen. What neede you tell me that? I think so, when I tooke a Boy
for a Girle: If I had bene married to him, (for all he was in womans
apparrell) I would not haue had him

Page. Why this is your owne folly,

Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter, By her garments?

Slen. I went to her in greene, and cried Mum, and she cride budget,
as Anne and I had appointed, and yet it was not Anne, but a
Post-masters boy

Mist.Page. Good George be not angry, I knew of your purpose: turn'd
my daughter into white, and indeede she is now with the Doctor at the
Deanrie, and there married

Cai. Ver is Mistris Page: by gar I am cozoned, I ha married oon
Garsoon, a boy; oon pesant, by gar. A boy, it is not An Page, by gar, I
am cozened

M.Page. Why? did you take her in white?   Cai. I bee gar, and 'tis a
boy: be gar, Ile raise all Windsor

Ford. This is strange: Who hath got the right Anne?   Page. My heart
misgiues me, here comes Mr Fenton. How now Mr Fenton?

Anne. Pardon good father, good my mother pardon   Page. Now Mistris:

How chance you went not with Mr Slender?

M.Page. Why went you not with Mr Doctor, maid?   Fen. You do amaze
her: heare the truth of it, You would haue married her most shamefully,
Where there was no proportion held in loue: The truth is, she and I
(long since contracted) Are now so sure that nothing can dissolue vs:
Th' offence is holy, that she hath committed, And this deceit looses
the name of craft, Of disobedience, or vnduteous title,

Since therein she doth euitate and shun

A thousand irreligious cursed houres

Which forced marriage would haue brought vpon her

Ford. Stand not amaz'd, here is no remedie: In Loue, the heauens
themselues do guide the state, Money buyes Lands, and wiues are sold by
fate

Fal. I am glad, though you haue tane a special stand to strike at
me, that your Arrow hath glanc'd

Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heauen giue thee ioy, what cannot
be eschew'd, must be embrac'd

Fal. When night-dogges run, all sorts of Deere are chac'd

Mist.Page. Well, I will muse no further: Mr Fenton, Heauen giue you
many, many merry dayes:

Good husband, let vs euery one go home,

And laugh this sport ore by a Countrie fire, Sir Iohn and all

Ford. Let it be so (Sir Iohn:)

To Master Broome, you yet shall hold your word, For he, to night, shall
lye with Mistris Ford:

Exeunt.

FINIS. THE Merry Wiues of Windsor.



Measvre, For Measure

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords.

Duke. Escalus

Esc. My Lord

Duk. Of Gouernment, the properties to vnfold, Would seeme in me t'
affect speech & discourse, Since I am put to know, that your owne
Science Exceedes (in that) the lists of all aduice My strength can giue
you: Then no more remaines But that, to your sufficiency, as your worth
is able, And let them worke: The nature of our People, Our Cities
Institutions, and the Termes

For Common Iustice, y'are as pregnant in

As Art, and practise, hath inriched any

That we remember: There is our Commission, From which, we would not
haue you warpe; call hither, I say, bid come before vs Angelo:

What figure of vs thinke you, he will beare. For you must know, we haue
with speciall soule Elected him our absence to supply;

Lent him our terror, drest him with our loue, And giuen his Deputation
all the Organs

Of our owne powre: What thinke you of it?   Esc. If any in Vienna be of
worth

To vndergoe such ample grace, and honour, It is Lord Angelo.

Enter Angelo.

Duk. Looke where he comes

Ang. Alwayes obedient to your Graces will, I come to know your
pleasure

Duke. Angelo:

There is a kinde of Character in thy life, That to th' obseruer, doth
thy history

Fully vnfold: Thy selfe, and thy belongings Are not thine owne so
proper, as to waste Thy selfe vpon thy vertues; they on thee: Heauen
doth with vs, as we, with Torches doe, Not light them for themselues:
For if our vertues Did not goe forth of vs, 'twere all alike As if we
had them not: Spirits are not finely touch'd, But to fine issues: nor
nature neuer lends The smallest scruple of her excellence,

But like a thrifty goddesse, she determines Her selfe the glory of a
creditour,

Both thanks, and vse; but I do bend my speech To one that can my part
in him aduertise; Hold therefore Angelo:

In our remoue, be thou at full, our selfe: Mortallitie and Mercie in
Vienna

Liue in thy tongue, and heart: Old Escalus Though first in question, is
thy secondary. Take thy Commission

Ang. Now good my Lord

Let there be some more test, made of my mettle, Before so noble, and so
great a figure

Be stamp't vpon it

Duk. No more euasion:

We haue with a leauen'd, and prepared choice Proceeded to you;
therefore take your honors: Our haste from hence is of so quicke
condition, That it prefers it selfe, and leaues vnquestion'd Matters of
needfull value: We shall write to you As time, and our concernings
shall importune, How it goes with vs, and doe looke to know What doth
befall you here. So fare you well: To th' hopefull execution doe I
leaue you, Of your Commissions

Ang. Yet giue leaue (my Lord,)

That we may bring you something on the way

Duk. My haste may not admit it,

Nor neede you (on mine honor) haue to doe With any scruple: your scope
is as mine owne, So to inforce, or qualifie the Lawes

As to your soule seemes good: Giue me your hand, Ile priuily away: I
loue the people,

But doe not like to stage me to their eyes: Though it doe well, I doe
not rellish well Their lowd applause, and Aues vehement:

Nor doe I thinke the man of safe discretion That do's affect it. Once
more fare you well

Ang. The heauens giue safety to your purposes

Esc. Lead forth, and bring you backe in happinesse.

Enter.

Duk. I thanke you, fare you well

Esc. I shall desire you, Sir, to giue me leaue To haue free speech
with you; and it concernes me To looke into the bottome of my place:

A powre I haue, but of what strength and nature, I am not yet
instructed

Ang. 'Tis so with me: Let vs withdraw together, And we may soone our
satisfaction haue

Touching that point

Esc. Ile wait vpon your honor.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Lucio, and two other Gentlemen.

Luc. If the Duke, with the other Dukes, come not to composition with
the King of Hungary, why then all the Dukes fall vpon the King

1.Gent. Heauen grant vs its peace, but not the King of Hungaries

2.Gent. Amen

Luc. Thou conclud'st like the Sanctimonious Pirat, that went to sea
with the ten Commandements, but scrap'd one out of the Table

2.Gent. Thou shalt not Steale?

Luc. I, that he raz'd

1.Gent. Why? 'twas a commandement, to command the Captaine and all
the rest from their functions: they put forth to steale: There's not a
Souldier of vs all, that in the thanks-giuing before meate, do rallish
the petition well, that praies for peace

2.Gent. I neuer heard any Souldier dislike it

Luc. I beleeue thee: for I thinke thou neuer was't where Grace was
said

2.Gent. No? a dozen times at least

1.Gent. What? In meeter?

Luc. In any proportion: or in any language

1.Gent. I thinke, or in any Religion

Luc. I, why not? Grace, is Grace, despight of all controuersie: as
for example; Thou thy selfe art a wicked villaine, despight of all
Grace

1.Gent. Well: there went but a paire of sheeres betweene vs

Luc. I grant: as there may betweene the Lists, and the Veluet. Thou
art the List

1.Gent. And thou the Veluet; thou art good veluet; thou'rt a three
pild-peece I warrant thee: I had as liefe be a Lyst of an English
Kersey, as be pil'd, as thou art pil'd, for a French Veluet. Do I
speake feelingly now?   Luc. I thinke thou do'st: and indeed with most
painfull feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine owne confession,
learne to begin thy health; but, whilst I liue forget to drinke after
thee

1.Gen. I think I haue done my selfe wrong, haue I not?   2.Gent.
Yes, that thou hast; whether thou art tainted, or free.

Enter Bawde.

Luc. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes. I haue purchas'd
as many diseases vnder her Roofe, As come to

2.Gent. To what, I pray?

Luc. Iudge

2.Gent. To three thousand Dollours a yeare

1.Gent. I, and more

Luc. A French crowne more

1.Gent. Thou art alwayes figuring diseases in me; but thou art full
of error, I am sound

Luc. Nay, not (as one would say) healthy: but so sound, as things
that are hollow; thy bones are hollow; Impiety has made a feast of
thee

1.Gent. How now, which of your hips has the most profound Ciatica?

Bawd. Well, well: there's one yonder arrested, and carried to prison,
was worth fiue thousand of you all

2.Gent. Who's that I pray'thee?

Bawd. Marry Sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio

1.Gent. Claudio to prison? 'tis not so

Bawd. Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him arrested: saw him carried
away: and which is more, within these three daies his head to be chop'd
off

Luc. But, after all this fooling, I would not haue it so: Art thou
sure of this?

Bawd. I am too sure of it: and it is for getting Madam Iulietta with
childe

Luc. Beleeue me this may be: he promis'd to meete me two howres
since, and he was euer precise in promise keeping

2.Gent. Besides you know, it drawes somthing neere to the speech we
had to such a purpose

1.Gent. But most of all agreeing with the proclamatio[n]

Luc. Away: let's goe learne the truth of it.

Enter.

Bawd. Thus, what with the war; what with the sweat, what with the
gallowes, and what with pouerty, I am Custom-shrunke. How now? what's
the newes with you.

Enter Clowne.

Clo. Yonder man is carried to prison

Baw. Well: what has he done?

Clo. A Woman

Baw. But what's his offence?

Clo. Groping for Trowts, in a peculiar Riuer

Baw. What? is there a maid with child by him?   Clo. No: but there's
a woman with maid by him: you haue not heard of the proclamation, haue
you?   Baw. What proclamation, man?

Clow. All howses in the Suburbs of Vienna must bee pluck'd downe

Bawd. And what shall become of those in the Citie?   Clow. They
shall stand for seed: they had gon down to, but that a wise Burger put
in for them

Bawd. But shall all our houses of resort in the Suburbs be puld
downe?

Clow. To the ground, Mistris

Bawd. Why heere's a change indeed in the Commonwealth: what shall
become of me?

Clow. Come: feare not you; good Counsellors lacke no Clients: though
you change your place, you neede not change your Trade: Ile bee your
Tapster still; courage, there will bee pitty taken on you; you that
haue worne your eyes almost out in the seruice, you will bee
considered

Bawd. What's to doe heere, Thomas Tapster? let's withdraw?

Clo. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the Prouost to prison: and
there's Madam Iuliet.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Prouost, Claudio, Iuliet, Officers, Lucio, & 2.Gent.

Cla. Fellow, why do'st thou show me thus to th' world? Beare me to
prison, where I am committed

Pro. I do it not in euill disposition, But from Lord Angelo by
speciall charge

Clau. Thus can the demy-god (Authority) Make vs pay downe, for our
offence, by waight The words of heauen; on whom it will, it will, On
whom it will not (soe) yet still 'tis iust

Luc. Why how now Claudio? whence comes this restraint

Cla. From too much liberty, (my Lucio) Liberty As surfet is the
father of much fast,

So euery Scope by the immoderate vse

Turnes to restraint: Our Natures doe pursue Like Rats that rauyn downe
their proper Bane, A thirsty euill, and when we drinke, we die

Luc. If I could speake so wisely vnder an arrest, I would send for
certaine of my Creditors: and yet, to say the truth, I had as lief haue
the foppery of freedome, as the mortality of imprisonment: what's thy
offence, Claudio?

Cla. What (but to speake of) would offend againe

Luc. What, is't murder?

Cla. No

Luc. Lecherie?

Cla. Call it so

Pro. Away, Sir, you must goe

Cla. One word, good friend:

Lucio, a word with you

Luc. A hundred:

If they'll doe you any good: Is Lechery so look'd after?   Cla. Thus
stands it with me: vpon a true contract I got possession of Iulietas
bed,

You know the Lady, she is fast my wife,

Saue that we doe the denunciation lacke

Of outward Order. This we came not to,

Onely for propogation of a Dowre

Remaining in the Coffer of her friends,

From whom we thought it meet to hide our Loue Till Time had made them
for vs. But it chances The stealth of our most mutuall entertainment
With Character too grosse, is writ on Iuliet

Luc. With childe, perhaps?

Cla. Vnhappely, euen so.

And the new Deputie, now for the Duke,

Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newnes, Or whether that the body
publique, be

A horse whereon the Gouernor doth ride,

Who newly in the Seate, that it may know

He can command; lets it strait feele the spur: Whether the Tirranny be
in his place,

Or in his Eminence that fills it vp

I stagger in: But this new Gouernor

Awakes me all the inrolled penalties

Which haue (like vn-scowr'd Armor) hung by th' wall So long, that
ninteene Zodiacks haue gone round, And none of them beene worne; and
for a name Now puts the drowsie and neglected Act

Freshly on me: 'tis surely for a name

Luc. I warrant it is: And thy head stands so tickle on thy
shoulders, that a milke-maid, if she be in loue, may sigh it off: Send
after the Duke, and appeale to him

Cla. I haue done so, but hee's not to be found. I pre'thee (Lucio)
doe me this kinde seruice: This day, my sister should the Cloyster
enter, And there receiue her approbation.

Acquaint her with the danger of my state, Implore her, in my voice,
that she make friends To the strict deputie: bid her selfe assay him, I
haue great hope in that: for in her youth There is a prone and
speechlesse dialect, Such as moue men: beside, she hath prosperous Art
When she will play with reason, and discourse, And well she can
perswade

Luc. I pray shee may; aswell for the encouragement of the like,
which else would stand vnder greeuous imposition: as for the enioying
of thy life, who I would be sorry should bee thus foolishly lost, at a
game of ticketacke: Ile to her

Cla. I thanke you good friend Lucio

Luc. Within two houres

Cla. Come Officer, away.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Duke and Frier Thomas.

Duk. No: holy Father, throw away that thought, Beleeue not that the
dribling dart of Loue Can pierce a compleat bosome: why, I desire thee
To giue me secret harbour, hath a purpose More graue, and wrinkled,
then the aimes, and ends Of burning youth

Fri. May your Grace speake of it?

Duk. My holy Sir, none better knowes then you How I haue euer lou'd
the life remoued

And held in idle price, to haunt assemblies Where youth, and cost,
witlesse brauery keepes. I haue deliuerd to Lord Angelo

(A man of stricture and firme abstinence) My absolute power, and place
here in Vienna, And he supposes me trauaild to Poland,

(For so I haue strewd it in the common eare) And so it is receiu'd: Now
(pious Sir)

You will demand of me, why I do this

Fri. Gladly, my Lord

Duk. We haue strict Statutes, and most biting Laws, (The needfull
bits and curbes to headstrong weedes,) Which for this foureteene
yeares, we haue let slip, Euen like an ore-growne Lyon in a Caue

That goes not out to prey: Now, as fond Fathers, Hauing bound vp the
threatning twigs of birch, Onely to sticke it in their childrens sight,
For terror, not to vse: in time the rod

More mock'd, then fear'd: so our Decrees, Dead to infliction, to
themselues are dead, And libertie, plucks Iustice by the nose; The Baby
beates the Nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum

Fri. It rested in your Grace

To vnloose this tyde-vp Iustice, when you pleas'd: And it in you more
dreadfull would haue seem'd Then in Lord Angelo

Duk. I doe feare: too dreadfull:

Sith 'twas my fault, to giue the people scope, 'Twould be my tirrany to
strike and gall them, For what I bid them doe: For, we bid this be done
When euill deedes haue their permissiue passe, And not the punishment:
therefore indeede (my father) I haue on Angelo impos'd the office,

Who may in th' ambush of my name, strike home, And yet, my nature neuer
in the sight

To do in slander: And to behold his sway

I will, as 'twere a brother of your Order, Visit both Prince, and
People: Therefore I pre'thee Supply me with the habit, and instruct me
How I may formally in person beare

Like a true Frier: Moe reasons for this action At our more leysure,
shall I render you;

Onely, this one: Lord Angelo is precise,

Stands at a guard with Enuie: scarce confesses That his blood flowes:
or that his appetite Is more to bread then stone: hence shall we see If
power change purpose: what our Seemers be.

Enter.



Scena Quinta.

Enter Isabell and Francisca a Nun.

Isa. And haue you Nuns no farther priuiledges?   Nun. Are not these
large enough?

Isa. Yes truely; I speake not as desiring more, But rather wishing a
more strict restraint Vpon the Sisterhood, the Votarists of Saint
Clare.

Lucio within.

Luc. Hoa? peace be in this place

Isa. Who's that which cals?

Nun. It is a mans voice: gentle Isabella Turne you the key, and know
his businesse of him; You may; I may not: you are yet vnsworne: When
you haue vowd, you must not speake with men, But in the presence of the
Prioresse;

Then if you speake, you must not show your face; Or if you show your
face, you must not speake. He cals againe: I pray you answere him

Isa. Peace and prosperitie: who is't that cals?   Luc. Haile Virgin,
(if you be) as those cheeke-Roses Proclaime you are no lesse: can you
so steed me, As bring me to the sight of Isabella,

A Nouice of this place, and the faire Sister To her vnhappie brother
Claudio?

Isa. Why her vnhappy Brother? Let me aske, The rather for I now must
make you know

I am that Isabella, and his Sister

Luc. Gentle & faire: your Brother kindly greets you; Not to be weary
with you; he's in prison

Isa. Woe me; for what?

Luc. For that, which if my selfe might be his Iudge, He should
receiue his punishment, in thankes: He hath got his friend with childe

Isa. Sir, make me not your storie

Luc. 'Tis true; I would not, though 'tis my familiar sin, With Maids
to seeme the Lapwing, and to iest Tongue, far from heart: play with all
Virgins so: I hold you as a thing en-skied, and sainted, By your
renouncement, an imortall spirit

And to be talk'd with in sincerity,

As with a Saint

Isa. You doe blaspheme the good, in mocking me

Luc. Doe not beleeue it: fewnes, and truth; tis thus, Your brother,
and his louer haue embrac'd; As those that feed, grow full: as
blossoming Time That from the seednes, the bare fallow brings To
teeming foyson: euen so her plenteous wombe Expresseth his full Tilth,
and husbandry

Isa. Some one with childe by him? my cosen Iuliet?   Luc. Is she
your cosen?

Isa. Adoptedly, as schoole-maids change their names By vaine, though
apt affection

Luc. She it is

Isa. Oh, let him marry her

Luc. This is the point.

The Duke is very strangely gone from hence; Bore many gentlemen (my
selfe being one)

In hand, and hope of action: but we doe learne, By those that know the
very Nerues of State, His giuing-out, were of an infinite distance From
his true meant designe: vpon his place, (And with full line of his
authority)

Gouernes Lord Angelo; A man, whose blood

Is very snow-broth: one, who neuer feeles The wanton stings, and
motions of the sence; But doth rebate, and blunt his naturall edge With
profits of the minde: Studie, and fast He (to giue feare to vse, and
libertie,

Which haue, for long, run-by the hideous law, As Myce, by Lyons) hath
pickt out an act, Vnder whose heauy sence, your brothers life Fals into
forfeit: he arrests him on it,

And followes close the rigor of the Statute To make him an example: all
hope is gone, Vnlesse you haue the grace, by your faire praier To
soften Angelo: And that's my pith of businesse 'Twixt you, and your
poore brother

Isa. Doth he so,

Seeke his life?

Luc. Has censur'd him already,

And as I heare, the Prouost hath a warrant For's execution

Isa. Alas: what poore

Abilitie's in me, to doe him good

Luc. Assay the powre you haue

Isa. My power? alas, I doubt

Luc. Our doubts are traitors

And makes vs loose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt:
Goe to Lord Angelo And let him learne to know, when Maidens sue Men
giue like gods: but when they weepe and kneele, All their petitions,
are as freely theirs As they themselues would owe them

Isa. Ile see what I can doe

Luc. But speedily

Isa. I will about it strait;

No longer staying, but to giue the Mother Notice of my affaire: I
humbly thanke you: Commend me to my brother: soone at night

Ile send him certaine word of my successe

Luc. I take my leaue of you

Isa. Good sir, adieu.

Exeunt.



Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Angelo, Escalus, and seruants, Iustice.

Ang. We must not make a scar-crow of the Law, Setting it vp to feare
the Birds of prey, And let it keepe one shape, till custome make it
Their pearch, and not their terror

Esc. I, but yet

Let vs be keene, and rather cut a little

Then fall, and bruise to death: alas, this gentleman Whom I would saue,
had a most noble father, Let but your honour know

(Whom I beleeue to be most strait in vertue) That in the working of
your owne affections, Had time coheard with Place, or place with
wishing, Or that the resolute acting of our blood

Could haue attaind th' effect of your owne purpose, Whether you had not
sometime in your life Er'd in this point, which now you censure him,
And puld the Law vpon you

Ang. 'Tis one thing to be tempted (Escalus) Another thing to fall: I
not deny

The Iury passing on the Prisoners life

May in the sworne-twelue haue a thiefe, or two Guiltier then him they
try; what's open made to Iustice, That Iustice ceizes; What knowes the
Lawes That theeues do passe on theeues? 'Tis very pregnant, The Iewell
that we finde, we stoope, and take't, Because we see it; but what we
doe not see, We tread vpon, and neuer thinke of it.

You may not so extenuate his offence,

For I haue had such faults; but rather tell me When I, that censure
him, do so offend,

Let mine owne Iudgement patterne out my death, And nothing come in
partiall. Sir, he must dye.

Enter Prouost.

Esc. Be it as your wisedome will

Ang. Where is the Prouost?

Pro. Here if it like your honour

Ang. See that Claudio

Be executed by nine to morrow morning,

Bring him his Confessor, let him be prepar'd, For that's the vtmost of
his pilgrimage

Esc. Well: heauen forgiue him; and forgiue vs all: Some rise by
sinne, and some by vertue fall: Some run from brakes of Ice, and
answere none, And some condemned for a fault alone.

Enter Elbow, Froth, Clowne, Officers.

Elb. Come, bring them away: if these be good people in a
Common-weale, that doe nothing but vse their abuses in common houses, I
know no law: bring them away

Ang. How now Sir, what's your name? And what's the matter?

Elb. If it please your honour, I am the poore Dukes Constable, and my
name is Elbow; I doe leane vpon Iustice Sir, and doe bring in here
before your good honor, two notorious Benefactors

Ang. Benefactors? Well: What Benefactors are they? Are they not
Malefactors?

Elb. If it please your honour, I know not well what they are: But
precise villaines they are, that I am sure of, and void of all
prophanation in the world, that good Christians ought to haue

Esc. This comes off well: here's a wise Officer

Ang. Goe to: What quality are they of? Elbow is your name?

Why do'st thou not speake Elbow?

Clo. He cannot Sir: he's out at Elbow

Ang. What are you Sir?

Elb. He Sir: a Tapster Sir: parcell Baud: one that serues a bad
woman: whose house Sir was (as they say) pluckt downe in the Suborbs:
and now shee professes a hot-house; which, I thinke is a very ill house
too

Esc. How know you that?

Elb. My wife Sir? whom I detest before heauen, and your honour

Esc. How? thy wife?

Elb. I Sir: whom I thanke heauen is an honest woman

Esc. Do'st thou detest her therefore?

Elb. I say sir, I will detest my selfe also, as well as she, that
this house, if it be not a Bauds house, it is pitty of her life, for it
is a naughty house

Esc. How do'st thou know that, Constable?   Elb. Marry sir, by my
wife, who, if she had bin a woman Cardinally giuen, might haue bin
accus'd in fornication, adultery, and all vncleanlinesse there

Esc. By the womans meanes?

Elb. I sir, by Mistris Ouerdons meanes: but as she spit in his face,
so she defide him

Clo. Sir, if it please your honor, this is not so

Elb. Proue it before these varlets here, thou honorable man, proue
it

Esc. Doe you heare how he misplaces?

Clo. Sir, she came in great with childe: and longing (sauing your
honors reuerence) for stewd prewyns; sir, we had but two in the house,
which at that very distant time stood, as it were in a fruit dish (a
dish of some three pence; your honours haue seene such dishes) they are
not China-dishes, but very good dishes

Esc. Go too: go too: no matter for the dish sir

Clo. No indeede sir not of a pin; you are therein in the right: but,
to the point: As I say, this Mistris Elbow, being (as I say) with
childe, and being great bellied, and longing (as I said) for prewyns:
and hauing but two in the dish (as I said) Master Froth here, this very
man, hauing eaten the rest (as I said) & (as I say) paying for them
very honestly: for, as you know Master Froth, I could not giue you
three pence againe

Fro. No indeede

Clo. Very well: you being then (if you be remembred) cracking the
stones of the foresaid prewyns

Fro. I, so I did indeede

Clo. Why, very well: I telling you then (if you be remembred) that
such a one, and such a one, were past cure of the thing you wot of,
vnlesse they kept very good diet, as I told you

Fro. All this is true

Clo. Why very well then

Esc. Come: you are a tedious foole: to the purpose: what was done to
Elbowes wife, that hee hath cause to complaine of? Come me to what was
done to her

Clo. Sir, your honor cannot come to that yet

Esc. No sir, nor I meane it not

Clo. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honours leaue: And I
beseech you, looke into Master Froth here sir, a man of foure-score
pound a yeare; whose father died at Hallowmas: Was't not at Hallowmas
Master Froth?

Fro. Allhallond-Eue

Clo. Why very well: I hope here be truthes: he Sir, sitting (as I
say) in a lower chaire, Sir, 'twas in the bunch of Grapes, where
indeede you haue a delight to sit, haue you not?

Fro. I haue so, because it is an open roome, and good for winter

Clo. Why very well then: I hope here be truthes

Ang. This will last out a night in Russia When nights are longest
there: Ile take my leaue, And leaue you to the hearing of the cause;
Hoping youle finde good cause to whip them all.

Enter.

Esc. I thinke no lesse: good morrow to your Lordship. Now Sir, come
on: What was done to Elbowes wife, once more?

Clo. Once Sir? there was nothing done to her once

Elb. I beseech you Sir, aske him what this man did to my wife

Clo. I beseech your honor, aske me

Esc. Well sir, what did this Gentleman to her?   Clo. I beseech you
sir, looke in this Gentlemans face: good Master Froth looke vpon his
honor; 'tis for a good purpose: doth your honor marke his face?

Esc. I sir, very well

Clo. Nay, I beseech you marke it well

Esc. Well, I doe so

Clo. Doth your honor see any harme in his face?   Esc. Why no

Clo. Ile be supposd vpon a booke, his face is the worst thing about
him: good then: if his face be the worst thing about him, how could
Master Froth doe the Constables wife any harme? I would know that of
your honour

Esc. He's in the right (Constable) what say you to it?   Elb. First,
and it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a
respected fellow; and his Mistris is a respected woman

Clo. By this hand Sir, his wife is a more respected person then any
of vs all

Elb. Varlet, thou lyest; thou lyest wicked varlet: the time is yet
to come that shee was euer respected with man, woman, or childe

Clo. Sir, she was respected with him, before he married with her

Esc. Which is the wiser here; Iustice or Iniquitie? Is this true?

Elb. O thou caytiffe: O thou varlet: O thou wicked Hanniball; I
respected with her, before I was married to her? If euer I was
respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship thinke mee the
poore Dukes Officer: proue this, thou wicked Hanniball, or ile haue
mine action of battry on thee

Esc. If he tooke you a box o'th' eare, you might haue your action of
slander too

Elb. Marry I thanke your good worship for it: what is't your
Worships pleasure I shall doe with this wicked Caitiffe?

Esc. Truly Officer, because he hath some offences in him, that thou
wouldst discouer, if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses,
till thou knowst what they are

Elb. Marry I thanke your worship for it: Thou seest thou wicked
varlet now, what's come vpon thee. Thou art to continue now thou
Varlet, thou art to continue

Esc. Where were you borne, friend?

Froth. Here in Vienna, Sir

Esc. Are you of fourescore pounds a yeere?   Froth. Yes, and't
please you sir

Esc. So: what trade are you of, sir?

Clo. A Tapster, a poore widdowes Tapster

Esc. Your Mistris name?

Clo. Mistris Ouerdon

Esc. Hath she had any more then one husband?   Clo. Nine, sir:
Ouerdon by the last

Esc. Nine? come hether to me, Master Froth; Master Froth, I would
not haue you acquainted with Tapsters; they will draw you Master Froth,
and you wil hang them: get you gon, and let me heare no more of you

Fro. I thanke your worship: for mine owne part, I neuer come into
any roome in a Tap-house, but I am drawne in

Esc. Well: no more of it Master Froth: farewell: Come you hether to
me, Mr. Tapster: what's your name Mr. Tapster?

Clo. Pompey

Esc. What else?

Clo. Bum, Sir

Esc. Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you, so that in
the beastliest sence, you are Pompey the great; Pompey, you are partly
a bawd, Pompey; howsoeuer you colour it in being a Tapster, are you
not? come, tell me true, it shall be the better for you

Clo. Truly sir, I am a poore fellow that would liue

Esc. How would you liue Pompey? by being a bawd? what doe you thinke
of the trade Pompey? is it a lawfull trade?

Clo. If the Law would allow it, sir

Esc. But the Law will not allow it Pompey; nor it shall not be
allowed in Vienna

Clo. Do's your Worship meane to geld and splay all the youth of the
City?

Esc. No, Pompey

Clo. Truely Sir, in my poore opinion they will too't then: if your
worship will take order for the drabs and the knaues, you need not to
feare the bawds

Esc. There is pretty orders beginning I can tell you: It is but
heading, and hanging

Clo. If you head, and hang all that offend that way but for ten
yeare together; you'll be glad to giue out a Commission for more heads:
if this law hold in Vienna ten yeare, ile rent the fairest house in it
after three pence a Bay: if you liue to see this come to passe, say
Pompey told you so

Esc. Thanke you good Pompey; and in requitall of your prophesie,
harke you: I aduise you let me not finde you before me againe vpon any
complaint whatsoeuer; no, not for dwelling where you doe: if I doe
Pompey, I shall beat you to your Tent, and proue a shrewd Csar to you:
in plaine dealing Pompey, I shall haue you whipt; so for this time,
Pompey, fare you well

Clo. I thanke your Worship for your good counsell; but I shall
follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better determine. Whip me? no,
no, let Carman whip his Iade, The valiant heart's not whipt out of his
trade.

Enter.

Esc. Come hether to me, Master Elbow: come hither Master Constable:
how long haue you bin in this place of Constable?

Elb. Seuen yeere, and a halfe sir

Esc. I thought by the readinesse in the office, you had continued in
it some time: you say seauen yeares together

Elb. And a halfe sir

Esc. Alas, it hath beene great paines to you: they do you wrong to
put you so oft vpon't. Are there not men in your Ward sufficient to
serue it?

Elb. 'Faith sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they are chosen,
they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some peece of money,
and goe through with all

Esc. Looke you bring mee in the names of some sixe or seuen, the
most sufficient of your parish

Elb. To your Worships house sir?

Esc. To my house: fare you well: what's a clocke, thinke you?

Iust. Eleuen, Sir

Esc. I pray you home to dinner with me

Iust. I humbly thanke you

Esc. It grieues me for the death of Claudio But there's no remedie:

Iust. Lord Angelo is seuere

Esc. It is but needfull.

Mercy is not it selfe, that oft lookes so, Pardon is still the nurse of
second woe:

But yet, poore Claudio; there is no remedie. Come Sir.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Prouost, Seruant.

Ser. Hee's hearing of a Cause; he will come straight, I'le tell him
of you

Pro. 'Pray you doe; Ile know

His pleasure, may be he will relent; alas He hath but as offended in a
dreame,

All Sects, all Ages smack of this vice, and he To die for't?

Enter Angelo.

Ang. Now, what's the matter Prouost?

Pro. Is it your will Claudio shall die to morrow?   Ang. Did not I
tell thee yea? hadst thou not order? Why do'st thou aske againe?

Pro. Lest I might be too rash:

Vnder your good correction I haue seene

When after execution, Iudgement hath

Repented ore his doome

Ang. Goe to; let that be mine,

Doe you your office, or giue vp your Place, And you shall well be
spar'd

Pro. I craue your Honours pardon:

What shall be done Sir, with the groaning Iuliet? Shee's very neere her
howre

Ang. Dispose of her

To some more fitter place; and that with speed

Ser. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd, Desires accesse to
you

Ang. Hath he a Sister?

Pro. I my good Lord, a very vertuous maid, And to be shortlie of a
Sister-hood,

If not alreadie

Ang. Well: let her be admitted,

See you the Fornicatresse be remou'd,

Let her haue needfull, but not lauish meanes, There shall be order
for't.

Enter Lucio and Isabella.

Pro. 'Saue your Honour

Ang. Stay a little while: y'are welcome: what's your will?   Isab. I
am a wofull Sutor to your Honour, 'Please but your Honor heare me

Ang. Well: what's your suite

Isab. There is a vice that most I doe abhorre, And most desire
should meet the blow of Iustice; For which I would not plead, but that
I must, For which I must not plead, but that I am At warre, twixt will,
and will not

Ang. Well: the matter?

Isab. I haue a brother is condemn'd to die, I doe beseech you let it
be his fault,

And not my brother

Pro. Heauen giue thee mouing graces

Ang. Condemne the fault, and not the actor of it, Why euery fault's
condemnd ere it be done: Mine were the verie Cipher of a Function

To fine the faults, whose fine stands in record, And let goe by the
Actor

Isab. Oh iust, but seuere Law:

I had a brother then; heauen keepe your honour

Luc. Giue't not ore so: to him againe, entreat him, Kneele downe
before him, hang vpon his gowne, You are too cold: if you should need a
pin, You could not with more tame a tongue desire it: To him, I say

Isab. Must he needs die?

Ang. Maiden, no remedie

Isab. Yes: I doe thinke that you might pardon him, And neither
heauen, nor man grieue at the mercy

Ang. I will not doe't

Isab. But can you if you would?

Ang. Looke what I will not, that I cannot doe

Isab. But might you doe't & do the world no wrong If so your heart
were touch'd with that remorse, As mine is to him?

Ang. Hee's sentenc'd, tis too late

Luc. You are too cold

Isab. Too late? why no: I that doe speak a word May call it againe:
well, beleeue this

No ceremony that to great ones longs,

Not the Kings Crowne; nor the deputed sword, The Marshalls Truncheon,
nor the Iudges Robe Become them with one halfe so good a grace As
mercie does: If he had bin as you, and you as he, You would haue slipt
like him, but he like you Would not haue beene so sterne

Ang. Pray you be gone

Isab. I would to heauen I had your potencie, And you were Isabell:
should it then be thus? No: I would tell what 'twere to be a Iudge, And
what a prisoner

Luc. I, touch him: there's the veine

Ang. Your Brother is a forfeit of the Law, And you but waste your
words

Isab. Alas, alas:

Why all the soules that were, were forfeit once, And he that might the
vantage best haue tooke, Found out the remedie: how would you be,

If he, which is the top of Iudgement, should But iudge you, as you are?
Oh, thinke on that, And mercie then will breathe within your lips Like
man new made

Ang. Be you content, (faire Maid)

It is the Law, not I, condemne your brother, Were he my kinsman,
brother, or my sonne, It should be thus with him: he must die to
morrow

Isab. To morrow? oh, that's sodaine,

Spare him, spare him:

Hee's not prepar'd for death; euen for our kitchins We kill the fowle
of season: shall we serue heauen With lesse respect then we doe
minister

To our grosse-selues? good, good my Lord, bethink you; Who is it that
hath di'd for this offence? There's many haue committed it

Luc. I, well said

Ang. The Law hath not bin dead, thogh it hath slept Those many had
not dar'd to doe that euill If the first, that did th' Edict infringe
Had answer'd for his deed. Now 'tis awake, Takes note of what is done,
and like a Prophet Lookes in a glasse that shewes what future euils
Either now, or by remissenesse, new conceiu'd, And so in progresse to
be hatch'd, and borne, Are now to haue no successiue degrees,

But here they liue to end

Isab. Yet shew some pittie

Ang. I shew it most of all, when I show Iustice; For then I pittie
those I doe not know,

Which a dismis'd offence, would after gaule And doe him right, that
answering one foule wrong Liues not to act another. Be satisfied;

Your Brother dies to morrow; be content

Isab. So you must be y first that giues this sentence, And hee, that
suffers: Oh, it is excellent To haue a Giants strength: but it is
tyrannous To vse it like a Giant

Luc. That's well said

Isab. Could great men thunder

As Ioue himselfe do's, Ioue would neuer be quiet, For euery pelting
petty Officer

Would vse his heauen for thunder;

Nothing but thunder: Mercifull heauen,

Thou rather with thy sharpe and sulpherous bolt Splits the vn-wedgable
and gnarled Oke,

Then the soft Mertill: But man, proud man, Drest in a little briefe
authoritie,

Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,

(His glassie Essence) like an angry Ape

Plaies such phantastique tricks before high heauen, As makes the Angels
weepe: who with our spleenes, Would all themselues laugh mortall

Luc. Oh, to him, to him wench: he will relent, Hee's comming: I
perceiue't

Pro. Pray heauen she win him

Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with our selfe, Great men may iest
with Saints: tis wit in them, But in the lesse fowle prophanation

Luc. Thou'rt i'th right (Girle) more o'that

Isab. That in the Captaine's but a chollericke word, Which in the
Souldier is flat blasphemie

Luc. Art auis'd o'that? more on't

Ang. Why doe you put these sayings vpon me?   Isab. Because
Authoritie, though it erre like others, Hath yet a kinde of medicine in
it selfe

That skins the vice o'th top; goe to your bosome, Knock there, and aske
your heart what it doth know That's like my brothers fault: if it
confesse A naturall guiltinesse, such as is his,

Let it not sound a thought vpon your tongue Against my brothers life

Ang. Shee speakes, and 'tis such sence That my Sence breeds with it;
fare you well

Isab. Gentle my Lord, turne backe

Ang. I will bethinke me: come againe to morrow

Isa. Hark, how Ile bribe you: good my Lord turn back

Ang. How? bribe me?

Is. I, with such gifts that heauen shall share with you

Luc. You had mar'd all else

Isab. Not with fond Sickles of the tested-gold, Or Stones, whose
rate are either rich, or poore As fancie values them: but with true
prayers, That shall be vp at heauen, and enter there Ere Sunne rise:
prayers from preserued soules, From fasting Maides, whose mindes are
dedicate To nothing temporall

Ang. Well: come to me to morrow

Luc. Goe to: 'tis well; away

Isab. Heauen keepe your honour safe

Ang. Amen.

For I am that way going to temptation,

Where prayers crosse

Isab. At what hower to morrow,

Shall I attend your Lordship?

Ang. At any time 'fore-noone

Isab. 'Saue your Honour

Ang. From thee: euen from thy vertue.

What's this? what's this? is this her fault, or mine? The Tempter, or
the Tempted, who sins most? ha? Not she: nor doth she tempt: but it is
I, That, lying by the Violet in the Sunne,

Doe as the Carrion do's, not as the flowre, Corrupt with vertuous
season: Can it be,

That Modesty may more betray our Sence

Then womans lightnesse? hauing waste ground enough, Shall we desire to
raze the Sanctuary

And pitch our euils there? oh fie, fie, fie: What dost thou? or what
art thou Angelo?

Dost thou desire her fowly, for those things That make her good? oh,
let her brother liue: Theeues for their robbery haue authority, When
Iudges steale themselues: what, doe I loue her, That I desire to heare
her speake againe? And feast vpon her eyes? what is't I dreame on? Oh
cunning enemy, that to catch a Saint,

With Saints dost bait thy hooke: most dangerous Is that temptation,
that doth goad vs on

To sinne, in louing vertue: neuer could the Strumpet With all her
double vigor, Art, and Nature Once stir my temper: but this vertuous
Maid Subdues me quite: Euer till now

When men were fond, I smild, and wondred how.

Enter.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Duke and Prouost.

Duke. Haile to you, Prouost, so I thinke you are

Pro. I am the Prouost: whats your will, good Frier?   Duke. Bound by
my charity, and my blest order, I come to visite the afflicted spirits

Here in the prison: doe me the common right To let me see them: and to
make me know

The nature of their crimes, that I may minister To them accordingly

Pro. I would do more then that, if more were needfull

Enter Iuliet.

Looke here comes one: a Gentlewoman of mine, Who falling in the flawes
of her owne youth, Hath blisterd her report: She is with childe, And he
that got it, sentenc'd: a yong man, More fit to doe another such
offence,

Then dye for this

Duk. When must he dye?

Pro. As I do thinke to morrow.

I haue prouided for you, stay a while

And you shall be conducted

Duk. Repent you (faire one) of the sin you carry?   Iul. I doe; and
beare the shame most patiently

Du. Ile teach you how you shal araign your conscie[n]ce And try your
penitence, if it be sound,

Or hollowly put on

Iul. Ile gladly learne

Duk. Loue you the man that wrong'd you?   Iul. Yes, as I loue the
woman that wrong'd him

Duk. So then it seemes your most offence full act Was mutually
committed

Iul. Mutually

Duk. Then was your sin of heauier kinde then his

Iul. I doe confesse it, and repent it (Father.)

Duk. 'Tis meet so (daughter) but least you do repent As that the sin
hath brought you to this shame, Which sorrow is alwaies toward our
selues, not heauen, Showing we would not spare heauen, as we loue it,
But as we stand in feare

Iul. I doe repent me, as it is an euill, And take the shame with
ioy

Duke. There rest:

Your partner (as I heare) must die to morrow, And I am going with
instruction to him:

Grace goe with you, Benedicite.

Enter.

Iul. Must die to morrow? oh iniurious Loue That respits me a life,
whose very comfort Is still a dying horror

Pro. 'Tis pitty of him.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Angelo.

An. When I would pray, & think, I thinke, and pray To seuerall
subiects: heauen hath my empty words, Whilst my Inuention, hearing not
my Tongue, Anchors on Isabell: heauen in my mouth,

As if I did but onely chew his name,

And in my heart the strong and swelling euill Of my conception: the
state whereon I studied Is like a good thing, being often read

Growne feard, and tedious: yea, my Grauitie Wherein (let no man heare
me) I take pride, Could I, with boote, change for an idle plume Which
the ayre beats for vaine: oh place, oh forme, How often dost thou with
thy case, thy habit Wrench awe from fooles, and tye the wiser soules To
thy false seeming? Blood, thou art blood, Let's write good Angell on
the Deuills horne 'Tis not the Deuills Crest: how now? who's there?

Enter Seruant.

Ser. One Isabell, a Sister, desires accesse to you

Ang. Teach her the way: oh, heauens

Why doe's my bloud thus muster to my heart, Making both it vnable for
it selfe,

And dispossessing all my other parts

Of necessary fitnesse?

So play the foolish throngs with one that swounds, Come all to help
him, and so stop the ayre By which hee should reuiue: and euen so

The generall subiect to a wel-wisht King

Quit their owne part, and in obsequious fondnesse Crowd to his
presence, where their vn-taught loue Must needs appear offence: how now
faire Maid.

Enter Isabella.

Isab. I am come to know your pleasure

An. That you might know it, wold much better please me, Then to
demand what 'tis: your Brother cannot liue

Isab. Euen so: heauen keepe your Honor

Ang. Yet may he liue a while: and it may be As long as you, or I:
yet he must die

Isab. Vnder your Sentence?

Ang. Yea

Isab. When, I beseech you: that in his Reprieue (Longer, or shorter)
he may be so fitted

That his soule sicken not

Ang. Ha? fie, these filthy vices: It were as good To pardon him,
that hath from nature stolne A man already made, as to remit

Their sawcie sweetnes, that do coyne heauens Image In stamps that are
forbid: 'tis all as easie, Falsely to take away a life true made,

As to put mettle in restrained meanes

To make a false one

Isab. 'Tis set downe so in heauen, but not in earth

Ang. Say you so: then I shall poze you quickly. Which had you
rather, that the most iust Law Now tooke your brothers life, and to
redeeme him Giue vp your body to such sweet vncleannesse As she that he
hath staind?

Isab. Sir, beleeue this.

I had rather giue my body, then my soule

Ang. I talke not of your soule: our compel'd sins Stand more for
number, then for accompt

Isab. How say you?

Ang. Nay Ile not warrant that: for I can speake Against the thing I
say: Answere to this, I (now the voyce of the recorded Law)

Pronounce a sentence on your Brothers life, Might there not be a
charitie in sinne,

To saue this Brothers life?

Isab. Please you to doo't,

Ile take it as a perill to my soule,

It is no sinne at all, but charitie

Ang. Pleas'd you to doo't, at perill of your soule Were equall poize
of sinne, and charitie

Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sinne Heauen let me beare it:
you granting of my suit, If that be sin, Ile make it my Morne-praier,
To haue it added to the faults of mine,

And nothing of your answere

Ang. Nay, but heare me,

Your sence pursues not mine: either you are ignorant, Or seeme so
crafty; and that's not good

Isab. Let be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I
am no better

Ang. Thus wisdome wishes to appeare most bright, When it doth taxe
it selfe: As these blacke Masques Proclaime an en-shield beauty ten
times louder Then beauty could displaied: But marke me, To be receiued
plaine, Ile speake more grosse: Your Brother is to dye

Isab. So

Ang. And his offence is so, as it appeares, Accountant to the Law,
vpon that paine

Isab. True

Ang. Admit no other way to saue his life (As I subscribe not that,
nor any other,

But in the losse of question) that you, his Sister, Finding your selfe
desir'd of such a person, Whose creadit with the Iudge, or owne great
place, Could fetch your Brother from the Manacles Of the
all-building-Law: and that there were No earthly meane to saue him, but
that either You must lay downe the treasures of your body, To this
supposed, or else to let him suffer: What would you doe?

Isab. As much for my poore Brother, as my selfe; That is: were I
vnder the tearmes of death, Th' impression of keene whips, I'ld weare
as Rubies, And strip my selfe to death, as to a bed, That longing haue
bin sicke for, ere I'ld yeeld My body vp to shame

Ang. Then must your brother die

Isa. And 'twer the cheaper way:

Better it were a brother dide at once,

Then that a sister, by redeeming him

Should die for euer

Ang. Were not you then as cruell as the Sentence, That you haue
slander'd so?

Isa. Ignomie in ransome, and free pardon Are of two houses: lawfull
mercie,

Is nothing kin to fowle redemption

Ang. You seem'd of late to make the Law a tirant, And rather prou'd
the sliding of your brother A merriment, then a vice

Isa. Oh pardon me my Lord, it oft fals out To haue, what we would
haue,

We speake not what we meane;

I something do excuse the thing I hate,

For his aduantage that I dearely loue

Ang. We are all fraile

Isa. Else let my brother die,

If not a fedarie but onely he

Owe, and succeed thy weaknesse

Ang. Nay, women are fraile too

Isa. I, as the glasses where they view themselues, Which are as
easie broke as they make formes: Women? Helpe heauen; men their
creation marre In profiting by them: Nay, call vs ten times fraile, For
we are soft, as our complexions are,

And credulous to false prints

Ang. I thinke it well:

And from this testimonie of your owne sex (Since I suppose we are made
to be no stronger Then faults may shake our frames) let me be bold; I
do arrest your words. Be that you are,

That is a woman; if you be more, you'r none. If you be one (as you are
well exprest

By all externall warrants) shew it now,

By putting on the destin'd Liuerie

Isa. I haue no tongue but one; gentle my Lord, Let me entreate you
speake the former language

Ang. Plainlie conceiue I loue you

Isa. My brother did loue Iuliet,

And you tell me that he shall die for't

Ang. He shall not Isabell if you giue me loue

Isa. I know your vertue hath a licence in't, Which seemes a little
fouler then it is,

To plucke on others

Ang. Beleeue me on mine Honor,

My words expresse my purpose

Isa. Ha? Little honor, to be much beleeu'd, And most pernitious
purpose: Seeming, seeming. I will proclaime thee Angelo, looke for't.
Signe me a present pardon for my brother, Or with an out-stretcht
throate Ile tell the world aloud What man thou art

Ang. Who will beleeue thee Isabell?

My vnsoild name, th' austeerenesse of my life, My vouch against you,
and my place i'th State, Will so your accusation ouer-weigh,

That you shall stifle in your owne report, And smell of calumnie. I
haue begun,

And now I giue my sensuall race, the reine, Fit thy consent to my
sharpe appetite,

Lay by all nicetie, and prolixious blushes That banish what they sue
for: Redeeme thy brother, By yeelding vp thy bodie to my will,

Or else he must not onelie die the death, But thy vnkindnesse shall his
death draw out To lingring sufferance: Answer me to morrow, Or by the
affection that now guides me most, Ile proue a Tirant to him. As for
you,

Say what you can; my false, ore-weighs your true.

Exit

Isa. To whom should I complaine? Did I tell this, Who would beleeue
me? O perilous mouthes

That beare in them, one and the selfesame tongue, Either of
condemnation, or approofe,

Bidding the Law make curtsie to their will, Hooking both right and
wrong to th' appetite, To follow as it drawes. Ile to my brother,
Though he hath falne by prompture of the blood, Yet hath he in him such
a minde of Honor, That had he twentie heads to tender downe On twentie
bloodie blockes, hee'ld yeeld them vp, Before his sister should her
bodie stoope To such abhord pollution.

Then Isabell liue chaste, and brother die; ``More then our Brother, is
our Chastitie. Ile tell him yet of Angelo's request,

And fit his minde to death, for his soules rest.

Enter.



Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Duke, Claudio, and Prouost.

Du. So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?   Cla. The miserable
haue no other medicine But onely hope: I'haue hope to liue, and am
prepar'd to die

Duke. Be absolute for death: either death or life Shall thereby be
the sweeter. Reason thus with life: If I do loose thee, I do loose a
thing

That none but fooles would keepe: a breath thou art, Seruile to all the
skyie-influences

That dost this habitation where thou keepst Hourely afflict: Meerely,
thou art deaths foole, For him thou labourst by thy flight to shun, And
yet runst toward him still. Thou art not noble, For all th'
accommodations that thou bearst, Are nurst by basenesse: Thou'rt by no
meanes valiant, For thou dost feare the soft and tender forke Of a
poore worme: thy best of rest is sleepe, And that thou oft prouoakst,
yet grosselie fearst Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thy
selfe, For thou exists on manie a thousand graines That issue out of
dust. Happie thou art not, For what thou hast not, still thou striu'st
to get, And what thou hast forgetst. Thou art not certaine, For thy
complexion shifts to strange effects, After the Moone: If thou art
rich, thou'rt poore, For like an Asse, whose backe with Ingots bowes;
Thou bearst thy heauie riches but a iournie, And death vnloads thee;
Friend hast thou none. For thine owne bowels which do call thee, fire
The meere effusion of thy proper loines

Do curse the Gowt, Sapego, and the Rheume For ending thee no sooner.
Thou hast nor youth, nor age But as it were an after-dinners sleepe

Dreaming on both, for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth
begge the almes Of palsied-Eld: and when thou art old, and rich Thou
hast neither heate, affection, limbe, nor beautie To make thy riches
pleasant: what's yet in this That beares the name of life? Yet in this
life Lie hid moe thousand deaths; yet death we feare That makes these
oddes, all euen

Cla. I humblie thanke you.

To sue to liue, I finde I seeke to die,

And seeking death, finde life: Let it come on.

Enter Isabella.

Isab. What hoa? Peace heere; Grace, and good companie

Pro. Who's there? Come in, the wish deserues a welcome

Duke. Deere sir, ere long Ile visit you againe

Cla. Most holie Sir, I thanke you

Isa. My businesse is a word or two with Claudio

Pro. And verie welcom: looke Signior, here's your sister

Duke. Prouost, a word with you

Pro. As manie as you please

Duke. Bring them to heare me speak, where I may be conceal'd

Cla. Now sister, what's the comfort?

Isa. Why,

As all comforts are: most good, most good indeede, Lord Angelo hauing
affaires to heauen

Intends you for his swift Ambassador,

Where you shall be an euerlasting Leiger; Therefore your best
appointment make with speed, To Morrow you set on

Clau. Is there no remedie?

Isa. None, but such remedie, as to saue a head To cleaue a heart in
twaine:

Clau. But is there anie?

Isa. Yes brother, you may liue;

There is a diuellish mercie in the Iudge, If you'l implore it, that
will free your life, But fetter you till death

Cla. Perpetuall durance?

Isa. I iust, perpetuall durance, a restraint Through all the worlds
vastiditie you had To a determin'd scope

Clau. But in what nature?

Isa. In such a one, as you consenting too't, Would barke your honor
from that trunke you beare, And leaue you naked

Clau. Let me know the point

Isa. Oh, I do feare thee Claudio, and I quake, Least thou a
feauorous life shouldst entertaine, And six or seuen winters more
respect

Then a perpetuall Honor. Dar'st thou die? The sence of death is most in
apprehension, And the poore Beetle that we treade vpon

In corporall sufferance, finds a pang as great, As when a Giant dies

Cla. Why giue you me this shame?

Thinke you I can a resolution fetch

From flowrie tendernesse? If I must die,

I will encounter darknesse as a bride,

And hugge it in mine armes

Isa. There spake my brother: there my fathers graue Did vtter forth
a voice. Yes, thou must die: Thou art too noble, to conserue a life

In base appliances. This outward sainted Deputie, Whose setled visage,
and deliberate word

Nips youth i'th head, and follies doth emmew As Falcon doth the Fowle,
is yet a diuell: His filth within being cast, he would appeare A pond,
as deepe as hell

Cla. The prenzie, Angelo?

Isa. Oh 'tis the cunning Liuerie of hell, The damnest bodie to
inuest, and couer

In prenzie gardes; dost thou thinke Claudio, If I would yeeld him my
virginitie

Thou might'st be freed?

Cla. Oh heauens, it cannot be

Isa. Yes, he would giu't thee; from this rank offence So to offend
him still. This night's the time That I should do what I abhorre to
name,

Or else thou diest to morrow

Clau. Thou shalt not do't

Isa. O, were it but my life,

I'de throw it downe for your deliuerance

As frankely as a pin

Clau. Thankes deere Isabell

Isa. Be readie Claudio, for your death to morrow

Clau. Yes. Has he affections in him,

That thus can make him bite the Law by th' nose, When he would force
it? Sure it is no sinne, Or of the deadly seuen it is the least

Isa. Which is the least?

Cla. If it were damnable, he being so wise, Why would he for the
momentarie tricke

Be perdurablie fin'de? Oh Isabell

Isa. What saies my brother?

Cla. Death is a fearefull thing

Isa. And shamed life, a hatefull

Cla. I, but to die, and go we know not where, To lie in cold
obstruction, and to rot,

This sensible warme motion, to become

A kneaded clod; And the delighted spirit

To bath in fierie floods, or to recide

In thrilling Region of thicke-ribbed Ice, To be imprison'd in the
viewlesse windes

And blowne with restlesse violence round about The pendant world: or to
be worse then worst Of those, that lawlesse and incertaine thought,
Imagine howling, 'tis too horrible.

The weariest, and most loathed worldly life That Age, Ache, periury,
and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a Paradise

To what we feare of death

Isa. Alas, alas

Cla. Sweet Sister, let me liue.

What sinne you do, to saue a brothers life, Nature dispenses with the
deede so farre, That it becomes a vertue

Isa. Oh you beast,

Oh faithlesse Coward, oh dishonest wretch, Wilt thou be made a man, out
of my vice?

Is't not a kinde of Incest, to take life

From thine owne sisters shame? What should I thinke, Heauen shield my
Mother plaid my Father faire: For such a warped slip of wildernesse

Nere issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance, Die, perish: Might but my
bending downe

Repreeue thee from thy fate, it should proceede. Ile pray a thousand
praiers for thy death, No word to saue thee

Cla. Nay heare me Isabell

Isa. Oh fie, fie, fie:

Thy sinn's not accidentall, but a Trade;

Mercy to thee would proue it selfe a Bawd, 'Tis best that thou diest
quickly

Cla. Oh heare me Isabella

Duk. Vouchsafe a word, yong sister, but one word

Isa. What is your Will

Duk. Might you dispense with your leysure, I would by and by haue
some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require, is likewise
your owne benefit

Isa. I haue no superfluous leysure, my stay must be stolen out of
other affaires: but I will attend you a while

Duke. Son, I haue ouer-heard what hath past between you & your
sister. Angelo had neuer the purpose to corrupt her; onely he hath made
an assay of her vertue, to practise his iudgement with the disposition
of natures. She (hauing the truth of honour in her) hath made him that
gracious deniall, which he is most glad to receiue: I am Confessor to
Angelo, and I know this to be true, therfore prepare your selfe to
death: do not satisfie your resolution with hopes that are fallible, to
morrow you must die, goe to your knees, and make ready

Cla. Let me ask my sister pardon, I am so out of loue with life,
that I will sue to be rid of it

Duke. Hold you there: farewell: Prouost, a word with you

Pro. What's your will (father?)

Duk. That now you are come, you wil be gone: leaue me a while with
the Maid, my minde promises with my habit, no losse shall touch her by
my company

Pro. In good time.

Enter.

Duk. The hand that hath made you faire, hath made you good: the
goodnes that is cheape in beauty, makes beauty briefe in goodnes; but
grace being the soule of your complexion, shall keepe the body of it
euer faire: the assault that Angelo hath made to you, Fortune hath
conuaid to my vnderstanding; and but that frailty hath examples for his
falling, I should wonder at Angelo: how will you doe to content this
Substitute, and to saue your Brother?

Isab. I am now going to resolue him: I had rather my brother die by
the Law, then my sonne should be vnlawfullie borne. But (oh) how much
is the good Duke deceiu'd in Angelo: if euer he returne, and I can
speake to him, I will open my lips in vaine, or discouer his
gouernment

Duke. That shall not be much amisse: yet, as the matter now stands,
he will auoid your accusation: he made triall of you onelie. Therefore
fasten your eare on my aduisings, to the loue I haue in doing good; a
remedie presents it selfe. I doe make my selfe beleeue that you may
most vprighteously do a poor wronged Lady a merited benefit; redeem
your brother from the angry Law; doe no staine to your owne gracious
person, and much please the absent Duke, if peraduenture he shall euer
returne to haue hearing of this businesse

Isab. Let me heare you speake farther; I haue spirit to do any thing
that appeares not fowle in the truth of my spirit

Duke. Vertue is bold, and goodnes neuer fearefull: Haue you not
heard speake of Mariana the sister of Fredericke the great Souldier,
who miscarried at Sea?   Isa. I haue heard of the Lady, and good words
went with her name

Duke. Shee should this Angelo haue married: was affianced to her
oath, and the nuptiall appointed: between which time of the contract,
and limit of the solemnitie, her brother Fredericke was wrackt at Sea,
hauing in that perished vessell, the dowry of his sister: but marke how
heauily this befell to the poore Gentlewoman, there she lost a noble
and renowned brother, in his loue toward her, euer most kinde and
naturall: with him the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage
dowry: with both, her combynate-husband, this well-seeming Angelo

Isab. Can this be so? did Angelo so leaue her?   Duke. Left her in
her teares, & dried not one of them with his comfort: swallowed his
vowes whole, pretending in her, discoueries of dishonor: in few,
bestow'd her on her owne lamentation, which she yet weares for his
sake: and he, a marble to her teares, is washed with them, but relents
not

Isab. What a merit were it in death to take this poore maid from the
world? what corruption in this life, that it will let this man liue?
But how out of this can shee auaile?   Duke. It is a rupture that you
may easily heale: and the cure of it not onely saues your brother, but
keepes you from dishonor in doing it

Isab. Shew me how (good Father.)

Duk. This fore-named Maid hath yet in her the continuance of her
first affection: his vniust vnkindenesse (that in all reason should
haue quenched her loue) hath (like an impediment in the Current) made
it more violent and vnruly: Goe you to Angelo, answere his requiring
with a plausible obedience, agree with his demands to the point: onely
referre your selfe to this aduantage; first, that your stay with him
may not be long: that the time may haue all shadow, and silence in it:
and the place answere to conuenience: this being granted in course, and
now followes all: wee shall aduise this wronged maid to steed vp your
appointment, goe in your place: if the encounter acknowledge it selfe
heereafter, it may compell him to her recompence; and heere, by this is
your brother saued, your honor vntainted, the poore Mariana aduantaged,
and the corrupt Deputy scaled. The Maid will I frame, and make fit for
his attempt: if you thinke well to carry this as you may, the doublenes
of the benefit defends the deceit from reproofe. What thinke you of
it?

Isab. The image of it giues me content already, and I trust it will
grow to a most prosperous perfection

Duk. It lies much in your holding vp: haste you speedily to Angelo,
if for this night he intreat you to his bed, giue him promise of
satisfaction: I will presently to S[aint]. Lukes, there at the
moated-Grange recides this deiected Mariana; at that place call vpon
me, and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly

Isab. I thank you for this comfort: fare you well good father.

Enter.

Enter Elbow, Clowne, Officers.

Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needes buy
and sell men and women like beasts, we shall haue all the world drinke
browne & white bastard

Duk. Oh heauens, what stuffe is heere

Clow. Twas neuer merry world since of two vsuries the merriest was
put downe, and the worser allow'd by order of Law; a fur'd gowne to
keepe him warme; and furd with Foxe and Lamb-skins too, to signifie,
that craft being richer then Innocency, stands for the facing

Elb. Come your way sir: 'blesse you good Father Frier

Duk. And you good Brother Father; what offence hath this man made
you, Sir?

Elb. Marry Sir, he hath offended the Law; and Sir, we take him to be
a Theefe too Sir: for wee haue found vpon him Sir, a strange Pick-lock,
which we haue sent to the Deputie

Duke. Fie, sirrah, a Bawd, a wicked bawd, The euill that thou
causest to be done,

That is thy meanes to liue. Do thou but thinke What 'tis to cram a maw,
or cloath a backe From such a filthie vice: say to thy selfe, From
their abhominable and beastly touches I drinke, I eate away my selfe,
and liue: Canst thou beleeue thy liuing is a life,

So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend

Clo. Indeed, it do's stinke in some sort, Sir: But yet Sir I would
proue

Duke. Nay, if the diuell haue giuen thee proofs for sin Thou wilt
proue his. Take him to prison Officer: Correction, and Instruction must
both worke Ere this rude beast will profit

Elb. He must before the Deputy Sir, he ha's giuen him warning: the
Deputy cannot abide a Whore-master: if he be a Whore-monger, and comes
before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand

Duke. That we were all, as some would seeme to bee From our faults,
as faults from seeming free.

Enter Lucio.

Elb. His necke will come to your wast, a Cord sir

Clo. I spy comfort, I cry baile: Here's a Gentleman, and a friend of
mine

Luc. How now noble Pompey? What, at the wheels of Csar? Art thou
led in triumph? What is there none of Pigmalions Images newly made
woman to bee had now, for putting the hand in the pocket, and
extracting clutch'd? What reply? Ha? What saist thou to this Tune,
Matter, and Method? Is't not drown'd i'th last raine? Ha? What saist
thou Trot? Is the world as it was Man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and
few words? Or how? The tricke of it?

Duke. Still thus, and thus: still worse?   Luc. How doth my deere
Morsell, thy Mistris? Procures she still? Ha?

Clo. Troth sir, shee hath eaten vp all her beefe, and she is her
selfe in the tub

Luc. Why 'tis good: It is the right of it: it must be so. Euer your
fresh Whore, and your pouder'd Baud, an vnshun'd consequence, it must
be so. Art going to prison Pompey?

Clo. Yes faith sir

Luc. Why 'tis not amisse Pompey: farewell: goe say I sent thee
thether: for debt Pompey? Or how?   Elb. For being a baud, for being a
baud

Luc. Well, then imprison him: If imprisonment be the due of a baud,
why 'tis his right. Baud is he doubtlesse, and of antiquity too: Baud
borne. Farwell good Pompey: Commend me to the prison Pompey, you will
turne good husband now Pompey, you will keepe the house

Clo. I hope Sir, your good Worship wil be my baile?   Luc. No indeed
wil I not Pompey, it is not the wear: I will pray (Pompey) to encrease
your bondage if you take it not patiently: Why, your mettle is the
more: Adieu trustie Pompey.

Blesse you Friar

Duke. And you

Luc. Do's Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha?   Elb. Come your waies
sir, come

Clo. You will not baile me then Sir?

Luc. Then Pompey, nor now: what newes abroad Frier? What newes?

Elb. Come your waies sir, come

Luc. Goe to kennell (Pompey) goe:

What newes Frier of the Duke?

Duke. I know none: can you tell me of any?   Luc. Some say he is with
the Emperor of Russia: other some, he is in Rome: but where is he
thinke you?   Duke. I know not where: but wheresoeuer, I wish him well

Luc. It was a mad fantasticall tricke of him to steale from the
State, and vsurpe the beggerie hee was neuer borne to: Lord Angelo
Dukes it well in his absence: he puts transgression too't

Duke. He do's well in't

Luc. A little more lenitie to Lecherie would doe no harme in him:
Something too crabbed that way, Frier

Duk. It is too general a vice, and seueritie must cure it

Luc. Yes in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well
allied, but it is impossible to extirpe it quite, Frier, till eating
and drinking be put downe. They say this Angelo was not made by Man and
Woman, after this downe-right way of Creation: is it true, thinke you?

Duke. How should he be made then?

Luc. Some report, a Sea-maid spawn'd him. Some, that he was begot
betweene two Stock-fishes. But it is certaine, that when he makes
water, his Vrine is congeal'd ice, that I know to bee true: and he is a
motion generatiue, that's infallible

Duke. You are pleasant sir, and speake apace

Luc. Why, what a ruthlesse thing is this in him, for the rebellion
of a Cod-peece, to take away the life of a man? Would the Duke that is
absent haue done this? Ere he would haue hang'd a man for the getting a
hundred Bastards, he would haue paide for the Nursing a thousand. He
had some feeling of the sport, hee knew the seruice, and that
instructed him to mercie

Duke. I neuer heard the absent Duke much detected for Women, he was
not enclin'd that way

Luc. Oh Sir, you are deceiu'd

Duke. 'Tis not possible

Luc. Who, not the Duke? Yes, your beggar of fifty: and his vse was,
to put a ducket in her Clack-dish; the Duke had Crochets in him. Hee
would be drunke too, that let me informe you

Duke. You do him wrong, surely

Luc. Sir, I was an inward of his: a shie fellow was the Duke, and I
beleeue I know the cause of his withdrawing

Duke. What (I prethee) might be the cause?   Luc. No, pardon: 'Tis a
secret must bee lockt within the teeth and the lippes: but this I can
let you vnderstand, the greater file of the subiect held the Duke to be
wise

Duke. Wise? Why no question but he was

Luc. A very superficiall, ignorant, vnweighing fellow   Duke. Either
this is Enuie in you, Folly, or mistaking: The very streame of his
life, and the businesse he hath helmed, must vppon a warranted neede,
giue him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his owne
bringings forth, and hee shall appeare to the enuious, a Scholler, a
Statesman, and a Soldier: therefore you speake vnskilfully: or, if your
knowledge bee more, it is much darkned in your malice

Luc. Sir, I know him, and I loue him

Duke. Loue talkes with better knowledge, & knowledge with deare
loue

Luc. Come Sir, I know what I know

Duke. I can hardly beleeue that, since you know not what you speake.
But if euer the Duke returne (as our praiers are he may) let mee desire
you to make your answer before him: if it bee honest you haue spoke,
you haue courage to maintaine it; I am bound to call vppon you, and I
pray you your name?

Luc. Sir my name is Lucio, wel known to the Duke

Duke. He shall know you better Sir, if I may liue to report you

Luc. I feare you not

Duke. O, you hope the Duke will returne no more: or you imagine me
to vnhurtfull an opposite: but indeed I can doe you little harme:
You'll for-sweare this againe?   Luc. Ile be hang'd first: Thou art
deceiu'd in mee Friar. But no more of this: Canst thou tell if Claudio
die to morrow, or no?

Duke. Why should he die Sir?

Luc. Why? For filling a bottle with a Tunne-dish: I would the Duke we
talke of were return'd againe: this vngenitur'd Agent will vn-people
the Prouince with Continencie. Sparrowes must not build in his
house-eeues, because they are lecherous: The Duke yet would haue darke
deeds darkelie answered, hee would neuer bring them to light: would hee
were return'd. Marrie this Claudio is condemned for vntrussing. Farwell
good Friar, I prethee pray for me: The Duke (I say to thee againe)
would eate Mutton on Fridaies. He's now past it, yet (and I say to
thee) hee would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt browne-bread and
Garlicke: say that I said so: Farewell.

Enter.

Duke. No might, nor greatnesse in mortality Can censure scape:
Back-wounding calumnie The whitest vertue strikes. What King so strong,
Can tie the gall vp in the slanderous tong? But who comes heere?

Enter Escalus, Prouost, and Bawd.

Esc. Go, away with her to prison

Bawd. Good my Lord be good to mee, your Honor is accounted a
mercifull man: good my Lord

Esc. Double, and trebble admonition, and still forfeite in the same
kinde? This would make mercy sweare and play the Tirant

Pro. A Bawd of eleuen yeares continuance, may it please your Honor

Bawd. My Lord, this is one Lucio's information against me, Mistris
Kate Keepe-downe was with childe by him in the Dukes time, he promis'd
her marriage: his Childe is a yeere and a quarter olde come Philip and
Iacob: I haue kept it my selfe; and see how hee goes about to abuse me

Esc. That fellow is a fellow of much License: Let him be call'd
before vs, Away with her to prison: Goe too, no more words. Prouost, my
Brother Angelo will not be alter'd, Claudio must die to morrow: Let him
be furnish'd with Diuines, and haue all charitable preparation. If my
brother wrought by my pitie, it should not be so with him

Pro. So please you, this Friar hath beene with him, and aduis'd him
for th' entertainment of death

Esc. Good' euen, good Father

Duke. Blisse, and goodnesse on you

Esc. Of whence are you?

Duke. Not of this Countrie, though my chance is now To vse it for my
time: I am a brother

Of gracious Order, late come from the Sea, In speciall businesse from
his Holinesse

Esc. What newes abroad i'th World?

Duke. None, but that there is so great a Feauor on goodnesse, that
the dissolution of it must cure it. Noueltie is onely in request, and
as it is as dangerous to be aged in any kinde of course, as it is
vertuous to be constant in any vndertaking. There is scarse truth
enough aliue to make Societies secure, but Securitie enough to make
Fellowships accurst: Much vpon this riddle runs the wisedome of the
world: This newes is old enough, yet it is euerie daies newes. I pray
you Sir, of what disposition was the Duke?

Esc. One, that aboue all other strifes, Contended especially to know
himselfe

Duke. What pleasure was he giuen to?

Esc. Rather reioycing to see another merry, then merrie at anie thing
which profest to make him reioice. A Gentleman of all temperance. But
leaue wee him to his euents, with a praier they may proue prosperous, &
let me desire to know, how you finde Claudio prepar'd? I am made to
vnderstand, that you haue lent him visitation

Duke. He professes to haue receiued no sinister measure from his
Iudge, but most willingly humbles himselfe to the determination of
Iustice: yet had he framed to himselfe (by the instruction of his
frailty) manie deceyuing promises of life, which I (by my good leisure)
haue discredited to him, and now is he resolu'd to die

Esc. You haue paid the heauens your Function, and the prisoner the
verie debt of your Calling. I haue labour'd for the poore Gentleman, to
the extremest shore of my modestie, but my brother-Iustice haue I found
so seuere, that he hath forc'd me to tell him, hee is indeede Iustice

Duke. If his owne life,

Answere the straitnesse of his proceeding, It shall become him well:
wherein if he chance to faile he hath sentenc'd himselfe

Esc I am going to visit the prisoner, Fare you well

Duke. Peace be with you.

He who the sword of Heauen will beare,

Should be as holy, as seueare:

Patterne in himselfe to know,

Grace to stand, and Vertue go:

More, nor lesse to others paying,

Then by selfe-offences weighing.

Shame to him, whose cruell striking,

Kils for faults of his owne liking:

Twice trebble shame on Angelo,

To weede my vice, and let his grow.

Oh, what may Man within him hide,

Though Angel on the outward side?

How may likenesse made in crimes,

Making practise on the Times,

To draw with ydle Spiders strings

Most ponderous and substantiall things?

Craft against vice, I must applie.

With Angelo to night shall lye

His old betroathed (but despised:)

So disguise shall by th' disguised

Pay with falshood, false exacting,

And performe an olde contracting.

Exit

Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Mariana, and Boy singing.

Song.

Take, oh take those lips away,

that so sweetly were forsworne,

And those eyes: the breake of day

lights that doe mislead the Morne;

But my kisses bring againe, bring againe, Seales of loue, but seal'd in
vaine, seal'd in vaine.

Enter Duke.

Mar. Breake off thy song, and haste thee quick away, Here comes a man
of comfort, whose aduice Hath often still'd my brawling discontent. I
cry you mercie, Sir, and well could wish You had not found me here so
musicall.

Let me excuse me, and beleeue me so,

My mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my woe

Duk. 'Tis good; though Musick oft hath such a charme To make bad,
good; and good prouoake to harme. I pray you tell me, hath any body
enquir'd for mee here to day; much vpon this time haue I promis'd here
to meete

Mar. You haue not bin enquir'd after: I haue sat here all day.

Enter Isabell.

Duk. I doe constantly beleeue you: the time is come euen now. I shall
craue your forbearance a little, may be I will call vpon you anone for
some aduantage to your selfe

Mar. I am alwayes bound to you.

Enter.

Duk. Very well met, and well come:

What is the newes from this good Deputie?   Isab. He hath a Garden
circummur'd with Bricke, Whose westerne side is with a Vineyard back't;
And to that Vineyard is a planched gate,

That makes his opening with this bigger Key: This other doth command a
little doore,

Which from the Vineyard to the Garden leades, There haue I made my
promise, vpon the

Heauy midle of the night, to call vpon him

Duk. But shall you on your knowledge find this way?   Isab. I haue
t'ane a due, and wary note vpon't, With whispering, and most guiltie
diligence, In action all of precept, he did show me

The way twice ore

Duk. Are there no other tokens

Betweene you 'greed, concerning her obseruance?   Isab. No: none but
onely a repaire ith' darke, And that I haue possest him, my most stay
Can be but briefe: for I haue made him know, I haue a Seruant comes
with me along

That staies vpon me; whose perswasion is, I come about my Brother

Duk. 'Tis well borne vp.

I haue not yet made knowne to Mariana

Enter Mariana.

A word of this: what hoa, within; come forth, I pray you be acquainted
with this Maid,

She comes to doe you good

Isab. I doe desire the like

Duk. Do you perswade your selfe that I respect you?   Mar. Good
Frier, I know you do, and haue found it

Duke. Take then this your companion by the hand Who hath a storie
readie for your eare:

I shall attend your leisure, but make haste The vaporous night
approaches

Mar. Wilt please you walke aside.

Enter.

Duke. Oh Place, and greatnes: millions of false eies Are stucke vpon
thee: volumes of report

Run with these false, and most contrarious Quest Vpon thy doings:
thousand escapes of wit

Make thee the father of their idle dreame, And racke thee in their
fancies. Welcome, how agreed?

Enter Mariana and Isabella.

Isab. Shee'll take the enterprize vpon her father, If you aduise it

Duke. It is not my consent,

But my entreaty too

Isa. Little haue you to say

When you depart from him, but soft and low, Remember now my brother

Mar. Feare me not

Duk. Nor gentle daughter, feare you not at all: He is your husband
on a pre-contract:

To bring you thus together 'tis no sinne, Sith that the Iustice of your
title to him Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let vs goe, Our Corne's to
reape, for yet our Tithes to sow.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Prouost and Clowne.

Pro. Come hither sirha; can you cut off a mans head?   Clo. If the
man be a Bachelor Sir, I can: But if he be a married man, he's his
wiues head, And I can neuer cut off a womans head

Pro. Come sir, leaue me your snatches, and yeeld mee a direct
answere. To morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine: heere is
in our prison a common executioner, who in his office lacks a helper,
if you will take it on you to assist him, it shall redeeme you from
your Gyues: if not, you shall haue your full time of imprisonment, and
your deliuerance with an vnpittied whipping; for you haue beene a
notorious bawd

Clo. Sir, I haue beene an vnlawfull bawd, time out of minde, but yet
I will bee content to be a lawfull hangman: I would bee glad to receiue
some instruction from my fellow partner

Pro. What hoa, Abhorson: where's Abhorson there?

Enter Abhorson.

Abh. Doe you call sir?

Pro. Sirha, here's a fellow will helpe you to morrow in your
execution: if you thinke it meet, compound with him by the yeere, and
let him abide here with you, if not, vse him for the present, and
dismisse him, hee cannot plead his estimation with you: he hath beene a
Bawd

Abh. A Bawd Sir? fie vpon him, he will discredit our mysterie

Pro. Goe too Sir, you waigh equallie: a feather will turne the
Scale.

Enter.

Clo. Pray sir, by your good fauor: for surely sir, a good fauor you
haue, but that you haue a hanging look: Doe you call sir, your
occupation a Mysterie?   Abh. I Sir, a Misterie

Clo. Painting Sir, I haue heard say, is a Misterie; and your Whores
sir, being members of my occupation, vsing painting, do proue my
Occupation, a Misterie: but what Misterie there should be in hanging,
if I should be hang'd, I cannot imagine

Abh. Sir, it is a Misterie

Clo. Proofe

Abh. Euerie true mans apparrell fits your Theefe

Clo. If it be too little for your theefe, your true man thinkes it
bigge enough. If it bee too bigge for your Theefe, your Theefe thinkes
it little enough: So euerie true mans apparrell fits your Theefe.

Enter Prouost.

Pro. Are you agreed?

Clo. Sir, I will serue him: For I do finde your Hangman is a more
penitent Trade then your Bawd: he doth oftner aske forgiuenesse

Pro. You sirrah, prouide your blocke and your Axe to morrow, foure a
clocke

Abh. Come on (Bawd) I will instruct thee in my Trade: follow

Clo. I do desire to learne sir: and I hope, if you haue occasion to
vse me for your owne turne, you shall finde me y'are. For truly sir,
for your kindnesse, I owe you a good turne.

Exit

Pro. Call hether Barnardine and Claudio: Th' one has my pitie; not a
iot the other, Being a Murtherer, though he were my brother.

Enter Claudio.

Looke, here's the Warrant Claudio, for thy death, 'Tis now dead
midnight, and by eight to morrow Thou must be made immortall. Where's
Barnardine?   Cla. As fast lock'd vp in sleepe, as guiltlesse labour,
When it lies starkely in the Trauellers bones, He will not wake

Pro. Who can do good on him?

Well, go, prepare your selfe. But harke, what noise? Heauen giue your
spirits comfort: by, and by, I hope it is some pardon, or repreeue

For the most gentle Claudio. Welcome Father.

Enter Duke.

Duke. The best, and wholsomst spirits of the night, Inuellop you,
good Prouost: who call'd heere of late?   Pro. None since the Curphew
rung

Duke. Not Isabell?

Pro. No

Duke. They will then er't be long

Pro. What comfort is for Claudio?

Duke. There's some in hope

Pro. It is a bitter Deputie

Duke. Not so, not so: his life is paralel'd Euen with the stroke and
line of his great Iustice: He doth with holie abstinence subdue

That in himselfe, which he spurres on his powre To qualifie in others:
were he meal'd with that Which he corrects, then were he tirrannous,
But this being so, he's iust. Now are they come. This is a gentle
Prouost, sildome when

The steeled Gaoler is the friend of men:

How now? what noise? That spirit's possest with hast, That wounds th'
vnsisting Posterne with these strokes

Pro. There he must stay vntil the Officer Arise to let him in: he is
call'd vp

Duke. Haue you no countermand for Claudio yet? But he must die to
morrow?

Pro. None Sir, none

Duke. As neere the dawning Prouost, as it is, You shall heare more
ere Morning

Pro. Happely

You something know: yet I beleeue there comes No countermand: no such
example haue we:

Besides, vpon the verie siege of Iustice, Lord Angelo hath to the
publike eare

Profest the contrarie.

Enter a Messenger.

Duke. This is his Lords man

Pro. And heere comes Claudio's pardon

Mess. My Lord hath sent you this note, And by mee this further
charge;

That you swerue not from the smallest Article of it, Neither in time,
matter, or other circumstance. Good morrow: for as I take it, it is
almost day

Pro. I shall obey him

Duke. This is his Pardon purchas'd by such sin, For which the
Pardoner himselfe is in:

Hence hath offence his quicke celeritie,

When it is borne in high Authority.

When Vice makes Mercie; Mercie's so extended, That for the faults loue,
is th' offender friended. Now Sir, what newes?

Pro. I told you:

Lord Angelo (be-like) thinking me remisse In mine Office, awakens mee

With this vnwonted putting on, methinks strangely: For he hath not vs'd
it before

Duk. Pray you let's heare.

The Letter.

Whatsoeuer you may heare to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by
foure of the clocke, and in the afternoone Bernardine: For my better
satisfaction, let mee haue Claudios head sent me by fiue. Let this be
duely performed with a thought that more depends on it, then we must
yet deliuer. Thus faile not to doe your Office, as you will answere it
at your perill.

What say you to this Sir?

Duke. What is that Barnardine, who is to be executed in th'
afternoone?

Pro. A Bohemian borne: But here nurst vp & bred, One that is a
prisoner nine yeeres old

Duke. How came it, that the absent Duke had not either deliuer'd him
to his libertie, or executed him? I haue heard it was euer his manner
to do so

Pro. His friends still wrought Repreeues for him: And indeed his
fact till now in the gouernment of Lord Angelo, came not to an
vndoubtfull proofe

Duke. It is now apparant?

Pro. Most manifest, and not denied by himselfe

Duke. Hath he borne himselfe penitently in prison? How seemes he to
be touch'd?

Pro. A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully, but as a drunken
sleepe, carelesse, wreaklesse, and fearelesse of what's past, present,
or to come: insensible of mortality, and desperately mortall

Duke. He wants aduice

Pro. He wil heare none: he hath euermore had the liberty of the
prison: giue him leaue to escape hence, hee would not. Drunke many
times a day, if not many daies entirely drunke. We haue verie oft
awak'd him, as if to carrie him to execution, and shew'd him a seeming
warrant for it, it hath not moued him at all

Duke. More of him anon: There is written in your brow Prouost,
honesty and constancie; if I reade it not truly, my ancient skill
beguiles me: but in the boldnes of my cunning, I will lay my selfe in
hazard: Claudio, whom heere you haue warrant to execute, is no greater
forfeit to the Law, then Angelo who hath sentenc'd him. To make you
vnderstand this in a manifested effect, I craue but foure daies respit:
for the which, you are to do me both a present, and a dangerous
courtesie

Pro. Pray Sir, in what?

Duke. In the delaying death

Pro. Alacke, how may I do it? Hauing the houre limited, and an
expresse command, vnder penaltie, to deliuer his head in the view of
Angelo? I may make my case as Claudio's, to crosse this in the
smallest

Duke. By the vow of mine Order, I warrant you, If my instructions
may be your guide,

Let this Barnardine be this morning executed, And his head borne to
Angelo

Pro. Angelo hath seene them both,

And will discouer the fauour

Duke. Oh, death's a great disguiser, and you may adde to it; Shaue
the head, and tie the beard, and say it was the desire of the penitent
to be so bar'de before his death: you know the course is common. If any
thing fall to you vpon this, more then thankes and good fortune, by the
Saint whom I professe, I will plead against it with my life

Pro. Pardon me, good Father, it is against my oath

Duke. Were you sworne to the Duke, or to the Deputie?   Pro. To him,
and to his Substitutes

Duke. You will thinke you haue made no offence, if the Duke auouch
the iustice of your dealing?   Pro. But what likelihood is in that?

Duke. Not a resemblance, but a certainty; yet since I see you
fearfull, that neither my coate, integrity, nor perswasion, can with
ease attempt you, I wil go further then I meant, to plucke all feares
out of you. Looke you Sir, heere is the hand and Seale of the Duke: you
know the Charracter I doubt not, and the Signet is not strange to you?

Pro. I know them both

Duke. The Contents of this, is the returne of the Duke; you shall
anon ouer-reade it at your pleasure: where you shall finde within these
two daies, he wil be heere. This is a thing that Angelo knowes not, for
hee this very day receiues letters of strange tenor, perchance of the
Dukes death, perchance entering into some Monasterie, but by chance
nothing of what is writ. Looke, th' vnfolding Starre calles vp the
Shepheard; put not your selfe into amazement, how these things should
be; all difficulties are but easie when they are knowne. Call your
executioner, and off with Barnardines head: I will giue him a present
shrift, and aduise him for a better place. Yet you are amaz'd, but this
shall absolutely resolue you: Come away, it is almost cleere dawne.

Enter.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Clowne.

Clo. I am as well acquainted heere, as I was in our house of
profession: one would thinke it were Mistris Ouerdons owne house, for
heere be manie of her olde Customers. First, here's yong Mr Rash, hee's
in for a commoditie of browne paper, and olde Ginger, nine score and
seuenteene pounds, of which hee made fiue Markes readie money: marrie
then, Ginger was not much in request, for the olde Women were all dead.
Then is there heere one Mr Caper, at the suite of Master Three-Pile the
Mercer, for some foure suites of Peachcolour'd Satten, which now
peaches him a beggar.

Then haue we heere, yong Dizie, and yong Mr Deepevow, and Mr
Copperspurre, and Mr Starue-Lackey the Rapier and dagger man, and yong
Drop-heire that kild lustie Pudding, and Mr Forthlight the Tilter, and
braue Mr Shootie the great Traueller, and wilde Halfe-Canne that
stabb'd Pots, and I thinke fortie more, all great doers in our Trade,
and are now for the Lords sake.

Enter Abhorson.

Abh. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hether

Clo. Mr Barnardine, you must rise and be hang'd, Mr Barnardine

Abh. What hoa Barnardine.

Barnardine within.

Bar. A pox o'your throats: who makes that noyse there? What are you?

Clo. Your friends Sir, the Hangman:

You must be so good Sir to rise, and be put to death

Bar. Away you Rogue, away, I am sleepie

Abh. Tell him he must awake,

And that quickly too

Clo. Pray Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleepe
afterwards

Ab. Go in to him, and fetch him out

Clo. He is comming Sir, he is comming: I heare his Straw russle.

Enter Barnardine.

Abh. Is the Axe vpon the blocke, sirrah?   Clo. Verie readie Sir

Bar. How now Abhorson?

What's the newes with you?

Abh. Truly Sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers: for
looke you, the Warrants come

Bar. You Rogue, I haue bin drinking all night, I am not fitted
for't

Clo. Oh, the better Sir: for he that drinkes all night, and is
hanged betimes in the morning, may sleepe the sounder all the next
day.

Enter Duke.

Abh. Looke you Sir, heere comes your ghostly Father: do we iest now
thinke you?

Duke. Sir, induced by my charitie, and hearing how hastily you are to
depart, I am come to aduise you, Comfort you, and pray with you

Bar. Friar, not I: I haue bin drinking hard all night, and I will
haue more time to prepare mee, or they shall beat out my braines with
billets: I will not consent to die this day, that's certaine

Duke. Oh sir, you must: and therefore I beseech you Looke forward on
the iournie you shall go

Bar. I sweare I will not die to day for anie mans perswasion

Duke. But heare you:

Bar. Not a word: if you haue anie thing to say to me, come to my
Ward: for thence will not I to day.

Exit

Enter Prouost.

Duke. Vnfit to liue, or die: oh grauell heart. After him (Fellowes)
bring him to the blocke

Pro. Now Sir, how do you finde the prisoner?   Duke. A creature
vnprepar'd, vnmeet for death, And to transport him in the minde he is,

Were damnable

Pro. Heere in the prison, Father,

There died this morning of a cruell Feauor, One Ragozine, a most
notorious Pirate,

A man of Claudio's yeares: his beard, and head Iust of his colour. What
if we do omit

This Reprobate, til he were wel enclin'd, And satisfie the Deputie with
the visage

Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?

Duke. Oh, 'tis an accident that heauen prouides: Dispatch it
presently, the houre drawes on Prefixt by Angelo: See this be done,

And sent according to command, whiles I

Perswade this rude wretch willingly to die

Pro. This shall be done (good Father) presently: But Barnardine must
die this afternoone,

And how shall we continue Claudio,

To saue me from the danger that might come, If he were knowne aliue?

Duke. Let this be done,

Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio, Ere twice the
Sun hath made his iournall greeting To yond generation, you shal finde

Your safetie manifested

Pro. I am your free dependant.

Enter.

Duke. Quicke, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo Now wil I write
Letters to Angelo,

(The Prouost he shal beare them) whose contents Shal witnesse to him I
am neere at home:

And that by great Iniunctions I am bound

To enter publikely: him Ile desire

To meet me at the consecrated Fount,

A League below the Citie: and from thence, By cold gradation, and
weale-ballanc'd forme. We shal proceed with Angelo.

Enter Prouost.

Pro. Heere is the head, Ile carrie it my selfe

Duke. Conuenient is it: Make a swift returne, For I would commune
with you of such things, That want no eare but yours

Pro. Ile make all speede.

Exit

Isabell within.

Isa. Peace hoa, be heere

Duke. The tongue of Isabell. She's come to know, If yet her brothers
pardon be come hither: But I will keepe her ignorant of her good, To
make her heauenly comforts of dispaire, When it is least expected.

Enter Isabella.

Isa. Hoa, by your leaue

Duke. Good morning to you, faire, and gracious daughter

Isa. The better giuen me by so holy a man, Hath yet the Deputie sent
my brothers pardon?   Duke. He hath releasd him, Isabell, from the
world, His head is off, and sent to Angelo

Isa. Nay, but it is not so

Duke. It is no other,

Shew your wisedome daughter in your close patience

Isa. Oh, I wil to him, and plucke out his eies

Duk. You shal not be admitted to his sight

Isa. Vnhappie Claudio, wretched Isabell, Iniurious world, most
damned Angelo

Duke. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a iot, Forbeare it
therefore, giue your cause to heauen. Marke what I say, which you shal
finde

By euery sillable a faithful veritie.

The Duke comes home to morrow: nay drie your eyes, One of our Couent,
and his Confessor

Giues me this instance: Already he hath carried Notice to Escalus and
Angelo,

Who do prepare to meete him at the gates, There to giue vp their powre:
If you can pace your wisdome, In that good path that I would wish it
go, And you shal haue your bosome on this wretch, Grace of the Duke,
reuenges to your heart, And general Honor

Isa. I am directed by you

Duk. This Letter then to Friar Peter giue, 'Tis that he sent me of
the Dukes returne: Say, by this token, I desire his companie At
Mariana's house to night. Her cause, and yours Ile perfect him withall,
and he shal bring you Before the Duke; and to the head of Angelo Accuse
him home and home. For my poore selfe, I am combined by a sacred Vow,

And shall be absent. Wend you with this Letter: Command these fretting
waters from your eies With a light heart; trust not my holie Order If I
peruert your course: whose heere?

Enter Lucio.

Luc. Good' euen;

Frier, where's the Prouost?

Duke. Not within Sir

Luc. Oh prettie Isabella, I am pale at mine heart, to see thine eyes
so red: thou must be patient; I am faine to dine and sup with water and
bran: I dare not for my head fill my belly. One fruitful Meale would
set mee too't: but they say the Duke will be heere to Morrow. By my
troth Isabell I lou'd thy brother, if the olde fantastical Duke of
darke corners had bene at home, he had liued

Duke. Sir, the Duke is marueilous little beholding to your reports,
but the best is, he liues not in them

Luc. Friar, thou knowest not the Duke so wel as I do: he's a better
woodman then thou tak'st him for

Duke. Well: you'l answer this one day. Fare ye well

Luc. Nay tarrie, Ile go along with thee, I can tel thee pretty tales
of the Duke

Duke. You haue told me too many of him already sir if they be true:
if not true, none were enough

Lucio. I was once before him for getting a Wench with childe

Duke. Did you such a thing?

Luc. Yes marrie did I; but I was faine to forswear it, They would
else haue married me to the rotten Medler

Duke. Sir your company is fairer then honest, rest you well

Lucio. By my troth Ile go with thee to the lanes end: if baudy talke
offend you, wee'l haue very litle of it: nay Friar, I am a kind of
Burre, I shal sticke.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Angelo & Escalus.

Esc. Euery Letter he hath writ, hath disuouch'd other

An. In most vneuen and distracted manner, his actions show much like
to madnesse, pray heauen his wisedome bee not tainted: and why meet him
at the gates and deliuer our authorities there?

Esc. I ghesse not

Ang. And why should wee proclaime it in an howre before his entring,
that if any craue redresse of iniustice, they should exhibit their
petitions in the street?   Esc. He showes his reason for that: to haue
a dispatch of Complaints, and to deliuer vs from deuices heereafter,
which shall then haue no power to stand against vs

Ang. Well: I beseech you let it bee proclaim'd betimes i'th' morne,
Ile call you at your house: giue notice to such men of sort and suite
as are to meete him

Esc. I shall sir: fareyouwell.

Enter.

Ang. Good night.

This deede vnshapes me quite, makes me vnpregnant And dull to all
proceedings. A deflowred maid, And by an eminent body, that enforc'd

The Law against it? But that her tender shame Will not proclaime
against her maiden losse, How might she tongue me? yet reason dares her
no, For my Authority beares of a credent bulke, That no particular
scandall once can touch But it confounds the breather. He should haue
liu'd, Saue that his riotous youth with dangerous sense Might in the
times to come haue ta'ne reuenge By so receiuing a dishonor'd life

With ransome of such shame: would yet he had liued. Alack, when once
our grace we haue forgot, Nothing goes right, we would, and we would
not.

Enter.



Scena Quinta.

Enter Duke and Frier Peter.

Duke. These Letters at fit time deliuer me, The Prouost knowes our
purpose and our plot, The matter being a foote, keepe your instruction
And hold you euer to our speciall drift,

Though sometimes you doe blench from this to that As cause doth
minister: Goe call at Flauia's house, And tell him where I stay: giue
the like notice To Valencius, Rowland, and to Crassus,

And bid them bring the Trumpets to the gate: But send me Flauius first

Peter. It shall be speeded well.

Enter Varrius.

Duke. I thank thee Varrius, thou hast made good hast, Come, we will
walke: There's other of our friends Will greet vs heere anon: my gentle
Varrius.

Exeunt.



Scena Sexta.

Enter Isabella and Mariana.

Isab. To speake so indirectly I am loath, I would say the truth, but
to accuse him so That is your part, yet I am aduis'd to doe it, He
saies, to vaile full purpose

Mar. Be rul'd by him

Isab. Besides he tells me, that if peraduenture He speake against me
on the aduerse side, I should not thinke it strange, for 'tis a
physicke That's bitter, to sweet end.

Enter Peter.

Mar. I would Frier Peter

Isab. Oh peace, the Frier is come

Peter. Come I haue found you out a stand most fit, Where you may
haue such vantage on the Duke He shall not passe you:

Twice haue the Trumpets sounded.

The generous, and grauest Citizens

Haue hent the gates, and very neere vpon

The Duke is entring:

Therefore hence away.

Exeunt.



Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Duke, Varrius, Lords, Angelo, Esculus, Lucio, Citizens at
seuerall

doores.

Duk. My very worthy Cosen, fairely met, Our old, and faithfull
friend, we are glad to see you

Ang. Esc. Happy returne be to your royall grace

Duk. Many and harty thankings to you both: We haue made enquiry of
you, and we heare Such goodnesse of your Iustice, that our soule Cannot
but yeeld you forth to publique thankes Forerunning more requitall

Ang. You make my bonds still greater

Duk. Oh your desert speaks loud, & I should wrong it To locke it in
the wards of couert bosome When it deserues with characters of brasse A
forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time, And razure of obliuion:
Giue we your hand And let the Subiect see, to make them know That
outward curtesies would faine proclaime Fauours that keepe within: Come
Escalus,

You must walke by vs, on our other hand:

And good supporters are you.

Enter Peter and Isabella.

Peter. Now is your time

Speake loud, and kneele before him

Isab. Iustice, O royall Duke, vaile your regard Vpon a wrong'd (I
would faine haue said a Maid) Oh worthy Prince, dishonor not your eye

By throwing it on any other obiect,

Till you haue heard me, in my true complaint, And giuen me Iustice,
Iustice, Iustice, Iustice

Duk. Relate your wrongs;

In what, by whom? be briefe:

Here is Lord Angelo shall giue you Iustice, Reueale your selfe to him

Isab. Oh worthy Duke,

You bid me seeke redemption of the diuell, Heare me your selfe: for
that which I must speake Must either punish me, not being beleeu'd, Or
wring redresse from you:

Heare me: oh heare me, heere

Ang. My Lord, her wits I feare me are not firme: She hath bin a
suitor to me, for her Brother Cut off by course of Iustice

Isab. By course of Iustice

Ang. And she will speake most bitterly, and strange

Isab. Most strange: but yet most truely wil I speake, That Angelo's
forsworne, is it not strange? That Angelo's a murtherer, is't not
strange? That Angelo is an adulterous thiefe,

An hypocrite, a virgin violator,

Is it not strange? and strange?

Duke. Nay it is ten times strange?

Isa. It is not truer he is Angelo,

Then this is all as true, as it is strange; Nay, it is ten times true,
for truth is truth To th' end of reckning

Duke. Away with her: poore soule

She speakes this, in th' infirmity of sence

Isa. Oh Prince, I coniure thee, as thou beleeu'st There is another
comfort, then this world, That thou neglect me not, with that opinion
That I am touch'd with madnesse: make not impossible That which but
seemes vnlike, 'tis not impossible But one, the wickedst caitiffe on
the ground May seeme as shie, as graue, as iust, as absolute: As
Angelo, euen so may Angelo

In all his dressings, caracts, titles, formes, Be an arch-villaine:
Beleeue it, royall Prince If he be lesse, he's nothing, but he's more,
Had I more name for badnesse

Duke. By mine honesty

If she be mad, as I beleeue no other,

Her madnesse hath the oddest frame of sense, Such a dependancy of
thing, on thing,

As ere I heard in madnesse

Isab. Oh gracious Duke

Harpe not on that; nor do not banish reason For inequality, but let
your reason serue To make the truth appeare, where it seemes hid, And
hide the false seemes true

Duk. Many that are not mad

Haue sure more lacke of reason:

What would you say?

Isab. I am the Sister of one Claudio,

Condemnd vpon the Act of Fornication

To loose his head, condemn'd by Angelo,

I, (in probation of a Sisterhood)

Was sent to by my Brother; one Lucio

As then the Messenger

Luc. That's I, and't like your Grace:

I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her, To try her gracious
fortune with Lord Angelo, For her poore Brothers pardon

Isab. That's he indeede

Duk. You were not bid to speake

Luc. No, my good Lord,

Nor wish'd to hold my peace

Duk. I wish you now then,

Pray you take note of it: and when you haue A businesse for your selfe:
pray heauen you then Be perfect

Luc. I warrant your honor

Duk. The warrant's for your selfe: take heede to't

Isab. This Gentleman told somewhat of my Tale

Luc. Right

Duk. It may be right, but you are i'the wrong To speake before your
time: proceed,

Isab. I went

To this pernicious Caitiffe Deputie

Duk. That's somewhat madly spoken

Isab. Pardon it,

The phrase is to the matter

Duke. Mended againe: the matter: proceed

Isab. In briefe, to set the needlesse processe by: How I perswaded,
how I praid, and kneel'd, How he refeld me, and how I replide

(For this was of much length) the vild conclusion I now begin with
griefe, and shame to vtter. He would not, but by gift of my chaste body
To his concupiscible intemperate lust

Release my brother; and after much debatement, My sisterly remorse,
confutes mine honour, And I did yeeld to him: But the next morne
betimes, His purpose surfetting, he sends a warrant For my poore
brothers head

Duke. This is most likely

Isab. Oh that it were as like as it is true

Duk. By heauen (fond wretch) y knowst not what thou speak'st, Or
else thou art suborn'd against his honor In hatefull practise: first
his Integritie Stands without blemish: next it imports no reason, That
with such vehemency he should pursue Faults proper to himselfe: if he
had so offended He would haue waigh'd thy brother by himselfe, And not
haue cut him off: some one hath set you on: Confesse the truth, and say
by whose aduice Thou cam'st heere to complaine

Isab. And is this all?

Then oh you blessed Ministers aboue

Keepe me in patience, and with ripened time Vnfold the euill, which is
heere wrapt vp In countenance: heauen shield your Grace from woe, As I
thus wrong'd, hence vnbeleeued goe

Duke. I know you'ld faine be gone: An Officer: To prison with her:
Shall we thus permit

A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall, On him so neere vs? This
needs must be a practise: Who knew of your intent and comming hither?
Isa. One that I would were heere, Frier Lodowick

Duk. A ghostly Father, belike:

Who knowes that Lodowicke?

Luc. My Lord, I know him, 'tis a medling Fryer, I doe not like the
man: had he been Lay my Lord, For certaine words he spake against your
Grace In your retirment, I had swing'd him soundly

Duke. Words against mee? this' a good Fryer belike And to set on
this wretched woman here

Against our Substitute: Let this Fryer be found

Luc. But yesternight my Lord, she and that Fryer I saw them at the
prison: a sawcy Fryar,

A very scuruy fellow

Peter. Blessed be your Royall Grace:

I haue stood by my Lord, and I haue heard Your royall eare abus'd:
first hath this woman Most wrongfully accus'd your Substitute,

Who is as free from touch, or soyle with her As she from one vngot

Duke. We did beleeue no lesse.

Know you that Frier Lodowick that she speakes of?   Peter. I know him
for a man diuine and holy, Not scuruy, nor a temporary medler

As he's reported by this Gentleman:

And on my trust, a man that neuer yet

Did (as he vouches) mis-report your Grace

Luc. My Lord, most villanously, beleeue it

Peter. Well: he in time may come to cleere himselfe; But at this
instant he is sicke, my Lord: Of a strange Feauor: vpon his meere
request Being come to knowledge, that there was complaint Intended
'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hether To speake as from his mouth, what he
doth know Is true, and false: And what he with his oath And all
probation will make vp full cleare Whensoeuer he's conuented: First for
this woman, To iustifie this worthy Noble man

So vulgarly and personally accus'd,

Her shall you heare disproued to her eyes, Till she her selfe confesse
it

Duk. Good Frier, let's heare it:

Doe you not smile at this, Lord Angelo?

Oh heauen, the vanity of wretched fooles. Giue vs some seates, Come
cosen Angelo,

In this I'll be impartiall: be you Iudge

Of your owne Cause: Is this the Witnes Frier?

Enter Mariana.

First, let her shew your face, and after, speake

Mar. Pardon my Lord, I will not shew my face Vntill my husband bid
me

Duke. What, are you married?

Mar. No my Lord

Duke. Are you a Maid?

Mar. No my Lord

Duk. A Widow then?

Mar. Neither, my Lord

Duk. Why you are nothing then: neither Maid, Widow, nor Wife?

Luc. My Lord, she may be a Puncke: for many of them, are neither
Maid, Widow, nor Wife

Duk. Silence that fellow: I would he had some cause to prattle for
himselfe

Luc. Well my Lord

Mar. My Lord, I doe confesse I nere was married, And I confesse
besides, I am no Maid,

I haue known my husband, yet my husband

Knowes not, that euer he knew me

Luc. He was drunk then, my Lord, it can be no better

Duk. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so to

Luc. Well, my Lord

Duk. This is no witnesse for Lord Angelo

Mar. Now I come to't, my Lord.

Shee that accuses him of Fornication,

In selfe-same manner, doth accuse my husband, And charges him, my Lord,
with such a time, When I'le depose I had him in mine Armes

With all th' effect of Loue

Ang. Charges she moe then me?

Mar. Not that I know

Duk. No? you say your husband

Mar. Why iust, my Lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinkes he knowes,
that he nere knew my body, But knows, he thinkes, that he knowes
Isabels

Ang. This is a strange abuse: Let's see thy face

Mar. My husband bids me, now I will vnmaske. This is that face, thou
cruell Angelo

Which once thou sworst, was worth the looking on: This is the hand,
which with a vowd contract Was fast belockt in thine: This is the body
That tooke away the match from Isabell,

And did supply thee at thy garden-house

In her Imagin'd person

Duke. Know you this woman?

Luc. Carnallie she saies

Duk. Sirha, no more

Luc. Enough my Lord

Ang. My Lord, I must confesse, I know this woman, And fiue yeres
since there was some speech of marriage Betwixt my selfe, and her:
which was broke off, Partly for that her promis'd proportions

Came short of Composition: But in chiefe

For that her reputation was dis-valued

In leuitie: Since which time of fiue yeres I neuer spake with her, saw
her, nor heard from her Vpon my faith, and honor

Mar. Noble Prince,

As there comes light from heauen, and words fro[m] breath, As there is
sence in truth, and truth in vertue, I am affianced this mans wife, as
strongly As words could make vp vowes: And my good Lord, But Tuesday
night last gon, in's garden house, He knew me as a wife. As this is
true,

Let me in safety raise me from my knees,

Or else for euer be confixed here

A Marble Monument

Ang. I did but smile till now,

Now, good my Lord, giue me the scope of Iustice, My patience here is
touch'd: I doe perceiue These poore informall women, are no more

But instruments of some more mightier member That sets them on. Let me
haue way, my Lord To finde this practise out

Duke. I, with my heart,

And punish them to your height of pleasure. Thou foolish Frier, and
thou pernicious woman Compact with her that's gone: thinkst thou, thy
oathes, Though they would swear downe each particular Saint, Were
testimonies against his worth, and credit That's seald in approbation?
you, Lord Escalus Sit with my Cozen, lend him your kinde paines To
finde out this abuse, whence 'tis deriu'd. There is another Frier that
set them on,

Let him be sent for

Peter. Would he were here, my Lord, for he indeed Hath set the women
on to this Complaint;

Your Prouost knowes the place where he abides, And he may fetch him

Duke. Goe, doe it instantly:

And you, my noble and well-warranted Cosen Whom it concernes to heare
this matter forth, Doe with your iniuries as seemes you best In any
chastisement; I for a while

Will leaue you; but stir not you till you haue Well determin'd vpon
these Slanderers.

Enter.

Esc. My Lord, wee'll doe it throughly: Signior Lucio, did not you say
you knew that Frier Lodowick to be a dishonest person?

Luc. Cucullus non facit Monachum, honest in nothing but in his
Clothes, and one that hath spoke most villanous speeches of the Duke

Esc. We shall intreat you to abide heere till he come, and inforce
them against him: we shall finde this Frier a notable fellow

Luc. As any in Vienna, on my word

Esc. Call that same Isabell here once againe, I would speake with
her: pray you, my Lord, giue mee leaue to question, you shall see how
Ile handle her

Luc. Not better then he, by her owne report

Esc. Say you?

Luc. Marry sir, I thinke, if you handled her priuately She would
sooner confesse, perchance publikely she'll be asham'd.

Enter Duke, Prouost, Isabella

Esc. I will goe darkely to worke with her

Luc. That's the way: for women are light at midnight

Esc. Come on Mistris, here's a Gentlewoman, Denies all that you haue
said

Luc. My Lord, here comes the rascall I spoke of, Here, with the
Prouost

Esc. In very good time: speake not you to him, till we call vpon
you

Luc. Mum

Esc. Come Sir, did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo?
they haue confes'd you did

Duk. 'Tis false

Esc. How? Know you where you are?

Duk. Respect to your great place; and let the diuell Be sometime
honour'd, for his burning throne. Where is the Duke? 'tis he should
heare me speake

Esc. The Duke's in vs: and we will heare you speake, Looke you
speake iustly

Duk. Boldly, at least. But oh poore soules, Come you to seeke the
Lamb here of the Fox; Good night to your redresse: Is the Duke gone?
Then is your cause gone too: The Duke's vniust, Thus to retort your
manifest Appeale,

And put your triall in the villaines mouth, Which here you come to
accuse

Luc. This is the rascall: this is he I spoke of

Esc. Why thou vnreuerend, and vnhallowed Fryer: Is't not enough thou
hast suborn'd these women, To accuse this worthy man? but in foule
mouth, And in the witnesse of his proper eare,

To call him villaine; and then to glance from him, To th'Duke himselfe,
to taxe him with Iniustice? Take him hence; to th' racke with him:
we'll towze you Ioynt by ioynt, but we will know his purpose: What?
vniust?

Duk. Be not so hot: the Duke dare

No more stretch this finger of mine, then he Dare racke his owne: his
Subiect am I not, Nor here Prouinciall: My businesse in this State Made
me a looker on here in Vienna,

Where I haue seene corruption boyle and bubble, Till it ore-run the
Stew: Lawes, for all faults, But faults so countenanc'd, that the
strong Statutes Stand like the forfeites in a Barbers shop, As much in
mocke, as marke

Esc. Slander to th' State:

Away with him to prison

Ang. What can you vouch against him Signior Lucio? Is this the man
you did tell vs of?

Luc. 'Tis he, my Lord: come hither goodman bald-pate, doe you know
me?

Duk. I remember you Sir, by the sound of your voice, I met you at the
Prison, in the absence of the Duke

Luc. Oh, did you so? and do you remember what you said of the Duke

Duk. Most notedly Sir

Luc. Do you so Sir: And was the Duke a flesh-monger, a foole, and a
coward, as you then reported him to be?

Duk. You must (Sir) change persons with me, ere you make that my
report: you indeede spoke so of him, and much more, much worse

Luc. Oh thou damnable fellow: did I not plucke thee by the nose, for
thy speeches?

Duk. I protest, I loue the Duke, as I loue my selfe

Ang. Harke how the villaine would close now, after his treasonable
abuses

Esc. Such a fellow is not to be talk'd withall: Away with him to
prison: Where is the Prouost? away with him to prison: lay bolts enough
vpon him: let him speak no more: away with those Giglets too, and with
the other confederate companion

Duk. Stay Sir, stay a while

Ang. What, resists he? helpe him Lucio

Luc. Come sir, come sir, come sir: foh sir, why you bald-pated lying
rascall: you must be hooded must you? show your knaues visage with a
poxe to you: show your sheepe-biting face, and be hang'd an houre:
Will't not off?

Duk. Thou art the first knaue, that ere mad'st a Duke. First Prouost,
let me bayle these gentle three: Sneake not away Sir, for the Fryer,
and you, Must haue a word anon: lay hold on him

Luc. This may proue worse then hanging

Duk. What you haue spoke, I pardon: sit you downe, We'll borrow
place of him; Sir, by your leaue: Ha'st thou or word, or wit, or
impudence, That yet can doe thee office? If thou ha'st Rely vpon it,
till my tale be heard,

And hold no longer out

Ang. Oh, my dread Lord,

I should be guiltier then my guiltinesse, To thinke I can be
vndiscerneable,

When I perceiue your grace, like powre diuine, Hath look'd vpon my
passes. Then good Prince, No longer Session hold vpon my shame,

But let my Triall, be mine owne Confession: Immediate sentence then,
and sequent death, Is all the grace I beg

Duk. Come hither Mariana,

Say: was't thou ere contracted to this woman?   Ang. I was my Lord

Duk. Goe take her hence, and marry her instantly. Doe you the office
(Fryer) which consummate, Returne him here againe: goe with him
Prouost.

Enter.

Esc. My Lord, I am more amaz'd at his dishonor, Then at the
strangenesse of it

Duk. Come hither Isabell,

Your Frier is now your Prince: As I was then Aduertysing, and holy to
your businesse,

(Not changing heart with habit) I am still, Atturnied at your seruice

Isab. Oh giue me pardon

That I, your vassaile, haue imploid, and pain'd Your vnknowne
Soueraigntie

Duk. You are pardon'd Isabell:

And now, deere Maide, be you as free to vs. Your Brothers death I know
sits at your heart: And you may maruaile, why I obscur'd my selfe,
Labouring to saue his life: and would not rather Make rash remonstrance
of my hidden powre, Then let him so be lost: oh most kinde Maid, It was
the swift celeritie of his death,

Which I did thinke, with slower foot came on, That brain'd my purpose:
but peace be with him, That life is better life past fearing death,
Then that which liues to feare: make it your comfort, So happy is your
Brother.

Enter Angelo, Maria, Peter, Prouost.

Isab. I doe my Lord

Duk. For this new-maried man, approaching here, Whose salt
imagination yet hath wrong'd

Your well defended honor: you must pardon For Mariana's sake: But as he
adiudg'd your Brother, Being criminall, in double violation

Of sacred Chastitie, and of promise-breach, Thereon dependant for your
Brothers life, The very mercy of the Law cries out

Most audible, euen from his proper tongue. An Angelo for Claudio, death
for death:

Haste still paies haste, and leasure, answers leasure; Like doth quit
like, and Measure still for Measure: Then Angelo, thy fault's thus
manifested; Which though thou would'st deny, denies thee vantage. We
doe condemne thee to the very Blocke

Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste. Away with him

Mar. Oh my most gracious Lord,

I hope you will not mocke me with a husband?   Duk. It is your husband
mock't you with a husband, Consenting to the safe-guard of your honor,
I thought your marriage fit: else Imputation, For that he knew you,
might reproach your life, And choake your good to come: For his
Possessions, Although by confutation they are ours;

We doe en-state, and widow you with all,

To buy you a better husband

Mar. Oh my deere Lord,

I craue no other, nor no better man

Duke. Neuer craue him, we are definitiue

Mar. Gentle my Liege

Duke. You doe but loose your labour.

Away with him to death: Now Sir, to you

Mar. Oh my good Lord, sweet Isabell, take my part, Lend me your
knees, and all my life to come, I'll lend you all my life to doe you
seruice

Duke. Against all sence you doe importune her, Should she kneele
downe, in mercie of this fact, Her Brothers ghost, his paued bed would
breake, And take her hence in horror

Mar. Isabell:

Sweet Isabel, doe yet but kneele by me,

Hold vp your hands, say nothing: I'll speake all. They say best men are
moulded out of faults, And for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad: So may my husband. Oh Isabel: will you not lend
a knee?

Duke. He dies for Claudio's death

Isab. Most bounteous Sir.

Looke if it please you, on this man condemn'd, As if my Brother liu'd:
I partly thinke,

A due sinceritie gouerned his deedes,

Till he did looke on me: Since it is so,

Let him not die: my Brother had but Iustice, In that he did the thing
for which he dide. For Angelo, his Act did not ore-take his bad intent,
And must be buried but as an intent

That perish'd by the way: thoughts are no subiects Intents, but meerely
thoughts

Mar. Meerely my Lord

Duk. Your suite's vnprofitable: stand vp I say: I haue bethought me
of another fault.

Prouost, how came it Claudio was beheaded At an vnusuall howre?

Pro. It was commanded so

Duke. Had you a speciall warrant for the deed?   Pro. No my good
Lord: it was by priuate message

Duk. For which I doe discharge you of your office, Giue vp your
keyes

Pro. Pardon me, noble Lord,

I thought it was a fault, but knew it not, Yet did repent me after more
aduice,

For testimony whereof, one in the prison

That should by priuate order else haue dide, I haue reseru'd aliue

Duk. What's he?

Pro. His name is Barnardine

Duke. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio: Goe fetch him hither,
let me looke vpon him

Esc. I am sorry, one so learned, and so wise As you, Lord Angelo,
haue stil appear'd,

Should slip so grosselie, both in the heat of bloud And lacke of
temper'd iudgement afterward

Ang. I am sorrie, that such sorrow I procure, And so deepe sticks it
in my penitent heart, That I craue death more willingly then mercy,
'Tis my deseruing, and I doe entreat it.

Enter Barnardine and Prouost, Claudio, Iulietta.

Duke. Which is that Barnardine?

Pro. This my Lord

Duke. There was a Friar told me of this man. Sirha, thou art said to
haue a stubborne soule That apprehends no further then this world, And
squar'st thy life according: Thou'rt condemn'd, But for those earthly
faults, I quit them all, And pray thee take this mercie to prouide For
better times to come: Frier aduise him, I leaue him to your hand. What
muffeld fellow's that?   Pro. This is another prisoner that I sau'd,
Who should haue di'd when Claudio lost his head, As like almost to
Claudio, as himselfe

Duke. If he be like your brother, for his sake Is he pardon'd, and
for your louelie sake Giue me your hand, and say you will be mine, He
is my brother too: But fitter time for that: By this Lord Angelo
perceiues he's safe,

Methinkes I see a quickning in his eye:

Well Angelo, your euill quits you well.

Looke that you loue your wife: her worth, worth yours I finde an apt
remission in my selfe:

And yet heere's one in place I cannot pardon, You sirha, that knew me
for a foole, a Coward, One all of Luxurie, an asse, a mad man:

Wherein haue I so deseru'd of you

That you extoll me thus?

Luc. 'Faith my Lord, I spoke it but according to the trick: if you
will hang me for it you may: but I had rather it would please you, I
might be whipt

Duke. Whipt first, sir, and hang'd after. Proclaime it Prouost round
about the Citie, If any woman wrong'd by this lewd fellow

(As I haue heard him sweare himselfe there's one whom he begot with
childe) let her appeare, And he shall marry her: the nuptiall finish'd,
Let him be whipt and hang'd

Luc. I beseech your Highnesse doe not marry me to a Whore: your
Highnesse said euen now I made you a Duke, good my Lord do not
recompence me, in making me a Cuckold

Duke. Vpon mine honor thou shalt marrie her. Thy slanders I forgiue,
and therewithall

Remit thy other forfeits: take him to prison, And see our pleasure
herein executed

Luc. Marrying a punke my Lord, is pressing to death, Whipping and
hanging

Duke. Slandering a Prince deserues it. She Claudio that you wrong'd,
looke you restore. Ioy to you Mariana, loue her Angelo:

I haue confes'd her, and I know her vertue. Thanks good friend,
Escalus, for thy much goodnesse, There's more behinde that is more
gratulate. Thanks Prouost for thy care, and secrecie, We shall imploy
thee in a worthier place. Forgiue him Angelo, that brought you home The
head of Ragozine for Claudio's,

Th' offence pardons it selfe. Deere Isabell, I haue a motion much
imports your good,

Whereto if you'll a willing eare incline; What's mine is yours, and
what is yours is mine. So bring vs to our Pallace, where wee'll show
What's yet behinde, that meete you all should know.

The Scene Vienna.

The names of all the Actors.

Vincentio: the Duke.

Angelo, the Deputie.

Escalus, an ancient Lord.

Claudio, a yong Gentleman.

Lucio, a fantastique.

2. Other like Gentlemen.

Prouost.

Thomas. 2. Friers.

Peter.

Elbow, a simple Constable.

Froth, a foolish Gentleman.

Clowne.

Abhorson, an Executioner.

Barnardine, a dissolute prisoner.

Isabella, sister to Claudio.

Mariana, betrothed to Angelo.

Iuliet, beloued of Claudio.

Francisca, a Nun.

Mistris Ouer-don, a Bawd.

FINIS. MEASVRE, For Measure.



The Comedie of Errors

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Enter the Duke of Ephesus, with the Merchant of Siracusa, Iaylor, and

other attendants.

Marchant. Proceed Solinus to procure my fall, And by the doome of
death end woes and all

Duke. Merchant of Siracusa, plead no more. I am not partiall to
infringe our Lawes;

The enmity and discord which of late

Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your Duke, To Merchants our
well-dealing Countrimen, Who wanting gilders to redeeme their liues,
Haue seal'd his rigorous statutes with their blouds, Excludes all pitty
from our threatning lookes: For since the mortall and intestine iarres
Twixt thy seditious Countrimen and vs,

It hath in solemne Synodes beene decreed, Both by the Siracusians and
our selues,

To admit no trafficke to our aduerse townes: Nay more, if any borne at
Ephesus

Be seene at any Siracusian Marts and Fayres: Againe, if any Siracusian
borne

Come to the Bay of Ephesus, he dies:

His goods confiscate to the Dukes dispose, Vnlesse a thousand markes be
leuied

To quit the penalty, and to ransome him:

Thy substance, valued at the highest rate, Cannot amount vnto a hundred
Markes,

Therefore by Law thou art condemn'd to die

Mer. Yet this my comfort, when your words are done, My woes end
likewise with the euening Sonne

Duk. Well Siracusian; say in briefe the cause Why thou departedst
from thy natiue home? And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus

Mer. A heauier taske could not haue beene impos'd, Then I to speake
my griefes vnspeakeable: Yet that the world may witnesse that my end
Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence, Ile vtter what my sorrow
giues me leaue.

In Syracusa was I borne, and wedde

Vnto a woman, happy but for me,

And by me; had not our hap beene bad:

With her I liu'd in ioy, our wealth increast By prosperous voyages I
often made

To Epidamium, till my factors death,

And he great care of goods at randone left, Drew me from kinde
embracements of my spouse; From whom my absence was not sixe moneths
olde, Before her selfe (almost at fainting vnder The pleasing
punishment that women beare) Had made prouision for her following me,

And soone, and safe, arriued where I was: There had she not beene long,
but she became A ioyfull mother of two goodly sonnes:

And, which was strange, the one so like the other, As could not be
distinguish'd but by names. That very howre, and in the selfe-same
Inne, A meane woman was deliuered

Of such a burthen Male, twins both alike: Those, for their parents were
exceeding poore, I bought, and brought vp to attend my sonnes. My wife,
not meanely prowd of two such boyes, Made daily motions for our home
returne:

Vnwilling I agreed, alas, too soone wee came aboord. A league from
Epidamium had we saild

Before the alwaies winde-obeying deepe

Gaue any Tragicke Instance of our harme:

But longer did we not retaine much hope;

For what obscured light the heauens did grant, Did but conuay vnto our
fearefull mindes

A doubtfull warrant of immediate death,

Which though my selfe would gladly haue imbrac'd, Yet the incessant
weepings of my wife,

Weeping before for what she saw must come, And pitteous playnings of
the prettie babes That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to feare,
Forst me to seeke delayes for them and me, And this it was: (for other
meanes was none) The Sailors sought for safety by our boate, And left
the ship then sinking ripe to vs. My wife, more carefull for the latter
borne, Had fastned him vnto a small spare Mast,

Such as sea-faring men prouide for stormes: To him one of the other
twins was bound,

Whil'st I had beene like heedfull of the other. The children thus
dispos'd, my wife and I, Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fixt,
Fastned our selues at eyther end the mast, And floating straight,
obedient to the streame, Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought. At
length the sonne gazing vpon the earth, Disperst those vapours that
offended vs,

And by the benefit of his wished light

The seas waxt calme, and we discouered

Two shippes from farre, making amaine to vs: Of Corinth that, of
Epidarus this,

But ere they came, oh let me say no more, Gather the sequell by that
went before

Duk. Nay forward old man, doe not breake off so, For we may pitty,
though not pardon thee

Merch. Oh had the gods done so, I had not now Worthily tearm'd them
mercilesse to vs:

For ere the ships could meet by twice fiue leagues, We were encountred
by a mighty rocke,

Which being violently borne vp,

Our helpefull ship was splitted in the midst; So that in this vniust
diuorce of vs,

Fortune had left to both of vs alike,

What to delight in, what to sorrow for,

Her part, poore soule, seeming as burdened With lesser waight, but not
with lesser woe, Was carried with more speed before the winde, And in
our sight they three were taken vp By Fishermen of Corinth, as we
thought.

At length another ship had seiz'd on vs,

And knowing whom it was their hap to saue, Gaue healthfull welcome to
their ship-wrackt guests, And would haue reft the Fishers of their
prey, Had not their backe beene very slow of saile; And therefore
homeward did they bend their course. Thus haue you heard me seuer'd
from my blisse, That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd, To tell sad
stories of my owne mishaps

Duke. And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, Doe me the fauour
to dilate at full,

What haue befalne of them and they till now

Merch. My yongest boy, and yet my eldest care, At eighteene yeeres
became inquisitiue

After his brother; and importun'd me

That his attendant, so his case was like, Reft of his brother, but
retain'd his name, Might beare him company in the quest of him: Whom
whil'st I laboured of a loue to see, I hazarded the losse of whom I
lou'd.

Fiue Sommers haue I spent in farthest Greece, Roming cleane through the
bounds of Asia, And coasting homeward, came to Ephesus:

Hopelesse to finde, yet loth to leaue vnsought Or that, or any place
that harbours men:

But heere must end the story of my life,

And happy were I in my timelie death,

Could all my trauells warrant me they liue

Duke. Haplesse Egeon whom the fates haue markt To beare the
extremitie of dire mishap:

Now trust me, were it not against our Lawes, Against my Crowne, my
oath, my dignity,

Which Princes would they may not disanull, My soule should sue as
aduocate for thee: But though thou art adiudged to the death, And
passed sentence may not be recal'd

But to our honours great disparagement:

Yet will I fauour thee in what I can;

Therefore Marchant, Ile limit thee this day To seeke thy helpe by
beneficiall helpe,

Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus, Beg thou, or borrow, to make
vp the summe, And liue: if no, then thou art doom'd to die: Iaylor,
take him to thy custodie

Iaylor. I will my Lord

Merch. Hopelesse and helpelesse doth Egean wend, But to
procrastinate his liuelesse end.

Exeunt.

Enter Antipholis Erotes, a Marchant, and Dromio.

Mer. Therefore giue out you are of Epidamium, Lest that your goods
too soone be confiscate: This very day a Syracusian Marchant

Is apprehended for a riuall here,

And not being able to buy out his life,

According to the statute of the towne,

Dies ere the wearie sunne set in the West: There is your monie that I
had to keepe

Ant. Goe beare it to the Centaure, where we host, And stay there
Dromio, till I come to thee; Within this houre it will be dinner time,
Till that Ile view the manners of the towne, Peruse the traders, gaze
vpon the buildings, And then returne and sleepe within mine Inne, For
with long trauaile I am stiffe and wearie. Get thee away

Dro. Many a man would take you at your word, And goe indeede, hauing
so good a meane.

Exit Dromio.

Ant. A trustie villaine sir, that very oft, When I am dull with care
and melancholly, Lightens my humour with his merry iests:

What will you walke with me about the towne, And then goe to my Inne
and dine with me?   E.Mar. I am inuited sir to certaine Marchants, Of
whom I hope to make much benefit:

I craue your pardon, soone at fiue a clocke, Please you, Ile meete with
you vpon the Mart, And afterward consort you till bed time:

My present businesse cals me from you now

Ant. Farewell till then: I will goe loose my selfe, And wander vp
and downe to view the Citie

E.Mar. Sir, I commend you to your owne content.

Exeunt.

Ant. He that commends me to mine owne content, Commends me to the
thing I cannot get:

I to the world am like a drop of water,

That in the Ocean seekes another drop,

Who falling there to finde his fellow forth, (Vnseene, inquisitiue)
confounds himselfe. So I, to finde a Mother and a Brother,

In quest of them (vnhappie a) loose my selfe.

Enter Dromio of Ephesus.

Here comes the almanacke of my true date: What now? How chance thou art
return'd so soone

E.Dro. Return'd so soone, rather approacht too late: The Capon
burnes, the Pig fals from the spit; The clocke hath strucken twelue
vpon the bell: My Mistris made it one vpon my cheeke:

She is so hot because the meate is colde: The meate is colde, because
you come not home: You come not home, because you haue no stomacke: You
haue no stomacke, hauing broke your fast: But we that know what 'tis to
fast and pray, Are penitent for your default to day

Ant. Stop in your winde sir, tell me this I pray? Where haue you
left the mony that I gaue you

E.Dro. Oh sixe pence that I had a wensday last, To pay the Sadler
for my Mistris crupper: The Sadler had it Sir, I kept it not

Ant. I am not in a sportiue humor now: Tell me, and dally not, where
is the monie? We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust So great a
charge from thine owne custodie

E.Dro. I pray you iest sir as you sit at dinner: I from my Mistris
come to you in post:

If I returne I shall be post indeede.

For she will scoure your fault vpon my pate: Me thinkes your maw, like
mine, should be your cooke, And strike you home without a messenger

Ant. Come Dromio, come, these iests are out of season, Reserue them
till a merrier houre then this: Where is the gold I gaue in charge to
thee?   E.Dro. To me sir? why you gaue no gold to me?   Ant. Come on
sir knaue, haue done your foolishnes, And tell me how thou hast
dispos'd thy charge

E.Dro. My charge was but to fetch you fro[m] the Mart Home to your
house, the Phoenix sir, to dinner; My Mistris and her sister staies for
you

Ant. Now as I am a Christian answer me, In what safe place you haue
bestow'd my monie; Or I shall breake that merrie sconce of yours That
stands on tricks, when I am vndispos'd: Where is the thousand Markes
thou hadst of me?   E.Dro. I haue some markes of yours vpon my pate:
Some of my Mistris markes vpon my shoulders: But not a thousand markes
betweene you both. If I should pay your worship those againe, Perchance
you will not beare them patiently

Ant. Thy Mistris markes? what Mistris slaue hast thou?   E.Dro. Your
worships wife, my Mistris at the Phoenix; She that doth fast till you
come home to dinner: And praies that you will hie you home to dinner

Ant. What wilt thou flout me thus vnto my face Being forbid? There
take you that sir knaue

E.Dro. What meane you sir, for God sake hold your hands: Nay, and
you will not sir, Ile take my heeles.

Exeunt. Dromio Ep.

Ant. Vpon my life by some deuise or other, The villaine is
ore-wrought of all my monie. They say this towne is full of cosenage:

As nimble Iuglers that deceiue the eie:

Darke working Sorcerers that change the minde: Soule-killing Witches,
that deforme the bodie: Disguised Cheaters, prating Mountebankes; And
manie such like liberties of sinne:

If it proue so, I will be gone the sooner: Ile to the Centaur to goe
seeke this slaue, I greatly feare my monie is not safe.

Enter.



Actus Secundus.

Enter Adriana, wife to Antipholis Sereptus, with Luciana her Sister.

Adr. Neither my husband nor the slaue return'd, That in such haste I
sent to seeke his Master? Sure Luciana it is two a clocke

Luc. Perhaps some Merchant hath inuited him, And from the Mart he's
somewhere gone to dinner: Good Sister let vs dine, and neuer fret;

A man is Master of his libertie:

Time is their Master, and when they see time, They'll goe or come; if
so, be patient Sister

Adr. Why should their libertie then ours be more?   Luc. Because
their businesse still lies out adore

Adr. Looke when I serue him so, he takes it thus

Luc. Oh, know he is the bridle of your will

Adr. There's none but asses will be bridled so

Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lasht with woe: There's nothing
situate vnder heauens eye, But hath his bound in earth, in sea, in
skie. The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowles Are their males
subiects, and at their controules: Man more diuine, the Master of all
these, Lord of the wide world, and wilde watry seas, Indued with
intellectuall sence and soules, Of more preheminence then fish and
fowles, Are masters to their females, and their Lords: Then let your
will attend on their accords

Adri. This seruitude makes you to keepe vnwed

Luci. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed

Adr. But were you wedded, you wold bear some sway   Luc. Ere I
learne loue, Ile practise to obey

Adr. How if your husband start some other where?   Luc. Till he come
home againe, I would forbeare

Adr. Patience vnmou'd, no maruel though she pause, They can be
meeke, that haue no other cause: A wretched soule bruis'd with
aduersitie, We bid be quiet when we heare it crie.

But were we burdned with like waight of paine, As much, or more, we
should our selues complaine: So thou that hast no vnkinde mate to
greeue thee, With vrging helpelesse patience would releeue me; But if
thou liue to see like right bereft, This foole-beg'd patience in thee
will be left

Luci. Well, I will marry one day but to trie: Heere comes your man,
now is your husband nie.

Enter Dromio Eph.

Adr. Say, is your tardie master now at hand?   E.Dro. Nay, hee's at
too hands with mee, and that my two eares can witnesse

Adr. Say, didst thou speake with him? knowst thou his minde?

E.Dro. I, I, he told his minde vpon mine eare, Beshrew his hand, I
scarce could vnderstand it

Luc. Spake hee so doubtfully, thou couldst not feele his meaning

E.Dro. Nay, hee strooke so plainly, I could too well feele his
blowes; and withall so doubtfully, that I could scarce vnderstand them

Adri. But say, I prethee, is he comming home? It seemes he hath
great care to please his wife

E.Dro. Why Mistresse, sure my Master is horne mad

Adri. Horne mad, thou villaine?

E.Dro. I meane not Cuckold mad,

But sure he is starke mad:

When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, He ask'd me for a hundred
markes in gold: 'Tis dinner time, quoth I: my gold, quoth he: Your meat
doth burne, quoth I: my gold quoth he: Will you come, quoth I: my gold,
quoth he; Where is the thousand markes I gaue thee villaine? The Pigge
quoth I, is burn'd: my gold, quoth he: My mistresse, sir, quoth I: hang
vp thy Mistresse: I know not thy mistresse, out on thy mistresse

Luci. Quoth who?

E.Dr. Quoth my Master, I know quoth he, no house, no wife, no
mistresse: so that my arrant due vnto my tongue, I thanke him, I bare
home vpon my shoulders: for in conclusion, he did beat me there

Adri. Go back againe, thou slaue, & fetch him home

Dro. Goe backe againe, and be new beaten home? For Gods sake send
some other messenger

Adri. Backe slaue, or I will breake thy pate a-crosse

Dro. And he will blesse y crosse with other beating: Betweene you, I
shall haue a holy head

Adri. Hence prating pesant, fetch thy Master home

Dro. Am I so round with you, as you with me, That like a foot-ball
you doe spurne me thus: You spurne me hence, and he will spurne me
hither, If I last in this seruice, you must case me in leather

Luci. Fie how impatience lowreth in your face

Adri. His company must do his minions grace, Whil'st I at home
starue for a merrie looke: Hath homelie age th' alluring beauty tooke
From my poore cheeke? then he hath wasted it. Are my discourses dull?
Barren my wit,

If voluble and sharpe discourse be mar'd, Vnkindnesse blunts it more
then marble hard. Doe their gay vestments his affections baite? That's
not my fault, hee's master of my state. What ruines are in me that can
be found,

By him not ruin'd? Then is he the ground

Of my defeatures. My decayed faire,

A sunnie looke of his, would soone repaire. But, too vnruly Deere, he
breakes the pale, And feedes from home; poore I am but his stale

Luci. Selfe-harming Iealousie; fie beat it hence

Ad. Vnfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispence: I know his eye
doth homage other-where,

Or else, what lets it but he would be here? Sister, you know he
promis'd me a chaine, Would that alone, a loue he would detaine, So he
would keepe faire quarter with his bed: I see the Iewell best enamaled

Will loose his beautie: yet the gold bides still That others touch, and
often touching will, Where gold and no man that hath a name,

By falshood and corruption doth it shame: Since that my beautie cannot
please his eie, Ile weepe (what's left away) and weeping die

Luci. How manie fond fooles serue mad Ielousie?

Enter.

Enter Antipholis Errotis.

Ant. The gold I gaue to Dromio is laid vp Safe at the Centaur, and
the heedfull slaue Is wandred forth in care to seeke me out

By computation and mine hosts report.

I could not speake with Dromio, since at first I sent him from the
Mart? see here he comes.

Enter Dromio Siracusia.

How now sir, is your merrie humor alter'd? As you loue stroakes, so
iest with me againe: You know no Centaur? you receiu'd no gold? Your
Mistresse sent to haue me home to dinner? My house was at the Phoenix?
Wast thou mad, That thus so madlie thou did didst answere me?   S.Dro.
What answer sir? when spake I such a word?   E.Ant. Euen now, euen
here, not halfe an howre since

S.Dro. I did not see you since you sent me hence Home to the Centaur
with the gold you gaue me

Ant. Villaine, thou didst denie the golds receit, And toldst me of a
Mistresse, and a dinner, For which I hope thou feltst I was displeas'd

S.Dro. I am glad to see you in this merrie vaine, What meanes this
iest, I pray you Master tell me?   Ant. Yea, dost thou ieere & flowt me
in the teeth? Thinkst y I iest? hold, take thou that, & that.

Beats Dro.

S.Dr. Hold sir, for Gods sake, now your iest is earnest, Vpon what
bargaine do you giue it me?

Antiph. Because that I familiarlie sometimes Doe vse you for my
foole, and chat with you, Your sawcinesse will iest vpon my loue,

And make a Common of my serious howres,

When the sunne shines, let foolish gnats make sport, But creepe in
crannies, when he hides his beames: If you will iest with me, know my
aspect, And fashion your demeanor to my lookes,

Or I will beat this method in your sconce

S.Dro. Sconce call you it? so you would leaue battering, I had
rather haue it a head, and you vse these blows long, I must get a
sconce for my head, and Insconce it to, or else I shall seek my wit in
my shoulders, but I pray sir, why am I beaten?

Ant. Dost thou not know?

S.Dro. Nothing sir, but that I am beaten

Ant. Shall I tell you why?

S.Dro. I sir, and wherefore; for they say, euery why hath a
wherefore

Ant. Why first for flowting me, and then wherefore, for vrging it
the second time to me

S.Dro. Was there euer anie man thus beaten out of season, when in
the why and the wherefore, is neither rime nor reason. Well sir, I
thanke you

Ant. Thanke me sir, for what?

S.Dro. Marry sir, for this something that you gaue me for nothing

Ant. Ile make you amends next, to giue you nothing for something.
But say sir, is it dinner time?   S.Dro. No sir, I thinke the meat
wants that I haue

Ant. In good time sir: what's that?

S.Dro. Basting

Ant. Well sir, then 'twill be drie

S.Dro. If it be sir, I pray you eat none of it

Ant. Your reason?

S.Dro. Lest it make you chollericke, and purchase me another drie
basting

Ant. Well sir, learne to iest in good time, there's a time for all
things

S.Dro. I durst haue denied that before you were so chollericke

Anti. By what rule sir?

S.Dro. Marry sir, by a rule as plaine as the plaine bald pate of
Father time himselfe

Ant. Let's heare it

S.Dro. There's no time for a man to recouer his haire that growes
bald by nature

Ant. May he not doe it by fine and recouerie?   S.Dro. Yes, to pay a
fine for a perewig, and recouer the lost haire of another man

Ant. Why, is Time such a niggard of haire, being (as it is) so
plentifull an excrement?

S.Dro. Because it is a blessing that hee bestowes on beasts, and what
he hath scanted them in haire, hee hath giuen them in wit

Ant. Why, but theres manie a man hath more haire then wit

S.Dro. Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lose his haire

Ant. Why thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers without wit

S.Dro. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost; yet he looseth it in a
kinde of iollitie

An. For what reason

S.Dro. For two, and sound ones to

An. Nay not sound I pray you

S.Dro. Sure ones then

An. Nay, not sure in a thing falsing

S.Dro. Certaine ones then

An. Name them

S.Dro. The one to saue the money that he spends in trying: the
other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porrage

An. You would all this time haue prou'd, there is no time for all
things

S.Dro. Marry and did sir: namely, in no time to recouer haire lost
by Nature

An. But your reason was not substantiall, why there is no time to
recouer

S.Dro. Thus I mend it: Time himselfe is bald, and therefore to the
worlds end, will haue bald followers

An. I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion: but soft, who wafts vs
yonder.

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adri. I, I, Antipholus, looke strange and frowne, Some other
Mistresse hath thy sweet aspects: I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.

The time was once, when thou vn-vrg'd wouldst vow, That neuer words
were musicke to thine eare, That neuer obiect pleasing in thine eye,

That neuer touch well welcome to thy hand, That neuer meat
sweet-sauour'd in thy taste, Vnlesse I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or
caru'd to thee. How comes it now, my Husband, oh how comes it, That
thou art then estranged from thy selfe? Thy selfe I call it, being
strange to me: That vndiuidable Incorporate

Am better then thy deere selfes better part. Ah doe not teare away thy
selfe from me;

For know my loue: as easie maist thou fall A drop of water in the
breaking gulfe,

And take vnmingled thence that drop againe Without addition or
diminishing,

As take from me thy selfe, and not me too. How deerely would it touch
thee to the quicke, Shouldst thou but heare I were licencious? And that
this body consecrate to thee,

By Ruffian Lust should be contaminate?

Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurne at me, And hurle the name of
husband in my face, And teare the stain'd skin of my Harlot brow, And
from my false hand cut the wedding ring, And breake it with a
deepe-diuorcing vow? I know thou canst, and therefore see thou doe it.
I am possest with an adulterate blot,

My bloud is mingled with the crime of lust: For if we two be one, and
thou play false, I doe digest the poison of thy flesh,

Being strumpeted by thy contagion:

Keepe then faire league and truce with thy true bed, I liue distain'd,
thou vndishonoured

Antip. Plead you to me faire dame? I know you not: In Ephesus I am
but two houres old,

As strange vnto your towne, as to your talke, Who euery word by all my
wit being scan'd, Wants wit in all, one word to vnderstand

Luci. Fie brother, how the world is chang'd with you: When were you
wont to vse my sister thus? She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner

Ant. By Dromio?

Drom. By me

Adr. By thee, and this thou didst returne from him. That he did
buffet thee, and in his blowes, Denied my house for his, me for his
wife

Ant. Did you conuerse sir with this gentlewoman: What is the course
and drift of your compact?   S.Dro. I sir? I neuer saw her till this
time

Ant. Villaine thou liest, for euen her verie words, Didst thou
deliuer to me on the Mart

S.Dro. I neuer spake with her in all my life

Ant. How can she thus then call vs by our names? Vnlesse it be by
inspiration

Adri. How ill agrees it with your grauitie, To counterfeit thus
grosely with your slaue, Abetting him to thwart me in my moode;

Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt,

But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt. Come I will fasten on
this sleeue of thine: Thou art an Elme my husband, I a Vine:

Whose weaknesse married to thy stranger state, Makes me with thy
strength to communicate: If ought possesse thee from me, it is drosse,
Vsurping Iuie, Brier, or idle Mosse,

Who all for want of pruning, with intrusion, Infect thy sap, and liue
on thy confusion

Ant. To mee shee speakes, shee moues mee for her theame;

What, was I married to her in my dreame?

Or sleepe I now, and thinke I heare all this? What error driues our
eies and eares amisse? Vntill I know this sure vncertaintie,

Ile entertaine the free'd fallacie

Luc. Dromio, goe bid the seruants spred for dinner

S.Dro. Oh for my beads, I crosse me for a sinner. This is the Fairie
land, oh spight of spights, We talke with Goblins, Owles and Sprights;
If we obay them not, this will insue:

They'll sucke our breath, or pinch vs blacke and blew

Luc. Why prat'st thou to thy selfe, and answer'st not? Dromio, thou
Dromio, thou snaile, thou slug, thou sot

S.Dro. I am transformed Master, am I not?   Ant. I thinke thou art
in minde, and so am I

S.Dro. Nay Master, both in minde, and in my shape

Ant. Thou hast thine owne forme

S.Dro. No, I am an Ape

Luc. If thou art chang'd to ought, 'tis to an Asse

S.Dro. 'Tis true she rides me, and I long for grasse. 'Tis so, I am
an Asse, else it could neuer be, But I should know her as well as she
knowes me

Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a foole, To put the finger in
the eie and weepe;

Whil'st man and Master laughes my woes to scorne: Come sir to dinner,
Dromio keepe the gate: Husband Ile dine aboue with you to day,

And shriue you of a thousand idle prankes: Sirra, if any aske you for
your Master,

Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter: Come sister, Dromio play
the Porter well

Ant. Am I in earth, in heauen, or in hell? Sleeping or waking, mad
or well aduisde:

Knowne vnto these, and to my selfe disguisde: Ile say as they say, and
perseuer so:

And in this mist at all aduentures go

S.Dro. Master, shall I be Porter at the gate?   Adr. I, and let none
enter, least I breake your pate

Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine to late.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, his man Dromio, Angelo the Goldsmith, and

Balthaser the Merchant.

E.Anti. Good signior Angelo you must excuse vs all, My wife is
shrewish when I keepe not howres; Say that I lingerd with you at your
shop

To see the making of her Carkanet,

And that to morrow you will bring it home. But here's a villaine that
would face me downe He met me on the Mart, and that I beat him, And
charg'd him with a thousand markes in gold, And that I did denie my
wife and house;

Thou drunkard thou, what didst thou meane by this?   E.Dro. Say what
you wil sir, but I know what I know, That you beat me at the Mart I
haue your hand to show; If y skin were parchment, & y blows you gaue
were ink, Your owne hand-writing would tell you what I thinke

E.Ant. I thinke thou art an asse

E.Dro. Marry so it doth appeare

By the wrongs I suffer, and the blowes I beare, I should kicke being
kickt, and being at that passe, You would keepe from my heeles, and
beware of an asse

E.An. Y'are sad signior Balthazar, pray God our cheer May answer my
good will, and your good welcom here

Bal. I hold your dainties cheap sir, & your welcom deer

E.An. Oh signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, A table full of
welcome, makes scarce one dainty dish

Bal. Good meat sir is co[m]mon that euery churle affords

Anti. And welcome more common, for thats nothing but words

Bal. Small cheere and great welcome, makes a merrie feast

Anti. I, to a niggardly Host, and more sparing guest: But though my
cates be meane, take them in good part, Better cheere may you haue, but
not with better hart. But soft, my doore is lockt; goe bid them let vs
in

E.Dro. Maud, Briget, Marian, Cisley, Gillian, Ginn

S.Dro. Mome, Malthorse, Capon, Coxcombe, Idiot, Patch,

Either get thee from the dore, or sit downe at the hatch: Dost thou
coniure for wenches, that y calst for such store, When one is one too
many, goe get thee from the dore

E.Dro. What patch is made our Porter? my Master stayes in the
street

S.Dro. Let him walke from whence he came, lest hee catch cold on's
feet

E.Ant. Who talks within there? hoa, open the dore

S.Dro. Right sir, Ile tell you when, and you'll tell me wherefore

Ant. Wherefore? for my dinner: I haue not din'd to day

S.Dro. Nor to day here you must not come againe when you may

Anti. What art thou that keep'st mee out from the howse I owe?

S.Dro. The Porter for this time Sir, and my name is Dromio

E.Dro. O villaine, thou hast stolne both mine office and my name,

The one nere got me credit, the other mickle blame: If thou hadst beene
Dromio to day in my place, Thou wouldst haue chang'd thy face for a
name, or thy name for an asse.

Enter Luce.

Luce. What a coile is there Dromio? who are those at the gate?

E.Dro. Let my Master in Luce

Luce. Faith no, hee comes too late, and so tell your Master

E.Dro. O Lord I must laugh, haue at you with a Prouerbe, Shall I set
in my staffe

Luce. Haue at you with another, that's when? can you tell?

S.Dro. If thy name be called Luce, Luce thou hast answer'd him well

Anti. Doe you heare you minion, you'll let vs in I hope?

Luce. I thought to haue askt you

S.Dro. And you said no

E.Dro. So come helpe, well strooke, there was blow for blow

Anti. Thou baggage let me in

Luce. Can you tell for whose sake?

E.Drom. Master, knocke the doore hard

Luce. Let him knocke till it ake

Anti. You'll crie for this minion, if I beat the doore downe

Luce. What needs all that, and a paire of stocks in the towne?

Enter Adriana.

Adr. Who is that at the doore y keeps all this noise?   S.Dro. By my
troth your towne is troubled with vnruly boies

Anti. Are you there Wife? you might haue come before

Adri. Your wife sir knaue? go get you from the dore

E.Dro. If you went in paine Master, this knaue wold goe sore

Angelo. Heere is neither cheere sir, nor welcome, we would faine
haue either

Baltz. In debating which was best, wee shall part with neither

E.Dro. They stand at the doore, Master, bid them welcome hither

Anti. There is something in the winde, that we cannot get in

E.Dro. You would say so Master, if your garments were thin.

Your cake here is warme within: you stand here in the cold.

It would make a man mad as a Bucke to be so bought and sold

Ant. Go fetch me something, Ile break ope the gate

S.Dro. Breake any breaking here, and Ile breake your knaues pate

E.Dro. A man may breake a word with your sir, and words are but
winde:

I and breake it in your face, so he break it not behinde

S.Dro. It seemes thou want'st breaking, out vpon thee hinde

E.Dro. Here's too much out vpon thee, I pray thee let me in

S.Dro. I, when fowles haue no feathers, and fish haue no fin

Ant. Well, Ile breake in: go borrow me a crow

E.Dro. A crow without feather, Master meane you so; For a fish
without a finne, ther's a fowle without a fether, If a crow help vs in
sirra, wee'll plucke a crow together

Ant. Go, get thee gon, fetch me an iron Crow

Balth. Haue patience sir, oh let it not be so, Heerein you warre
against your reputation, And draw within the compasse of suspect

Th' vnuiolated honor of your wife.

Once this your long experience of your wisedome, Her sober vertue,
yeares, and modestie,

Plead on your part some cause to you vnknowne; And doubt not sir, but
she will well excuse Why at this time the dores are made against you.
Be rul'd by me, depart in patience,

And let vs to the Tyger all to dinner,

And about euening come your selfe alone,

To know the reason of this strange restraint: If by strong hand you
offer to breake in

Now in the stirring passage of the day,

A vulgar comment will be made of it;

And that supposed by the common rowt

Against your yet vngalled estimation,

That may with foule intrusion enter in,

And dwell vpon your graue when you are dead; For slander liues vpon
succession:

For euer hows'd, where it gets possession

Anti. You haue preuail'd, I will depart in quiet, And in despight of
mirth meane to be merrie: I know a wench of excellent discourse,

Prettie and wittie; wilde, and yet too gentle; There will we dine: this
woman that I meane My wife (but I protest without desert)

Hath oftentimes vpbraided me withall:

To her will we to dinner, get you home

And fetch the chaine, by this I know 'tis made, Bring it I pray you to
the Porpentine,

For there's the house: That chaine will I bestow (Be it for nothing but
to spight my wife) Vpon mine hostesse there, good sir make haste: Since
mine owne doores refuse to entertaine me, Ile knocke else-where, to see
if they'll disdaine me

Ang. Ile meet you at that place some houre hence

Anti. Do so, this iest shall cost me some expence.

Exeunt.

Enter Iuliana, with Antipholus of Siracusia.

Iulia. And may it be that you haue quite forgot A husbands office?
shall Antipholus

Euen in the spring of Loue, thy Loue-springs rot? Shall loue in
buildings grow so ruinate?

If you did wed my sister for her wealth,

Then for her wealths-sake vse her with more kindnesse: Or if you like
else-where doe it by stealth, Muffle your false loue with some shew of
blindnesse: Let not my sister read it in your eye:

Be not thy tongue thy owne shames Orator: Looke sweet, speake faire,
become disloyaltie: Apparell vice like vertues harbenger:

Beare a faire presence, though your heart be tainted, Teach sinne the
carriage of a holy Saint, Be secret false: what need she be acquainted?
What simple thiefe brags of his owne attaine? 'Tis double wrong to
truant with your bed, And let her read it in thy lookes at boord: Shame
hath a bastard fame, well managed,

Ill deeds is doubled with an euill word:

Alas poore women, make vs not beleeue

(Being compact of credit) that you loue vs, Though others haue the
arme, shew vs the sleeue: We in your motion turne, and you may moue vs.
Then gentle brother get you in againe;

Comfort my sister, cheere her, call her wise; 'Tis holy sport to be a
little vaine,

When the sweet breath of flatterie conquers strife

S.Anti. Sweete Mistris, what your name is else I know not;

Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine:

Lesse in your knowledge, and your grace you show not, Then our earths
wonder, more then earth diuine. Teach me deere creature how to thinke
and speake: Lay open to my earthie grosse conceit:

Smothred in errors, feeble, shallow, weake, The foulded meaning of your
words deceit: Against my soules pure truth, why labour you, To make it
wander in an vnknowne field?

Are you a god? would you create me new?

Transforme me then, and to your powre Ile yeeld. But if that I am I,
then well I know,

Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,

Nor to her bed no homage doe I owe:

Farre more, farre more, to you doe I decline: Oh traine me not sweet
Mermaide with thy note, To drowne me in thy sister floud of teares:
Sing Siren for thy selfe, and I will dote: Spread ore the siluer waues
thy golden haires; And as a bud Ile take thee, and there lie: And in
that glorious supposition thinke,

He gaines by death, that hath such meanes to die: Let Loue, being
light, be drowned if she sinke

Luc. What are you mad, that you doe reason so?   Ant. Not mad, but
mated, how I doe not know

Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your eie

Ant. For gazing on your beames faire sun being by

Luc. Gaze when you should, and that will cleere your sight

Ant. As good to winke sweet loue, as looke on night

Luc. Why call you me loue? Call my sister so

Ant. Thy sisters sister

Luc. That's my sister

Ant. No: it is thy selfe, mine owne selfes better part: Mine eies
cleere eie, my deere hearts deerer heart; My foode, my fortune, and my
sweet hopes aime; My sole earths heauen, and my heauens claime

Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be

Ant. Call thy selfe sister sweet, for I am thee: Thee will I loue,
and with thee lead my life; Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife:

Giue me thy hand

Luc. Oh soft sir, hold you still:

Ile fetch my sister to get her good will.

Enter.

Enter Dromio, Siracusia.

Ant. Why how now Dromio, where run'st thou so fast?

S.Dro. Doe you know me sir? Am I Dromio? Am I your man? Am I my
selfe?

Ant. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thy selfe

Dro. I am an asse, I am a womans man, and besides my selfe

Ant. What womans man? and how besides thy selfe?

Dro. Marrie sir, besides my selfe, I am due to a woman: One that
claimes me, one that haunts me, one that will haue me

Anti. What claime laies she to thee?

Dro. Marry sir, such claime as you would lay to your horse, and she
would haue me as a beast, not that I beeing a beast she would haue me,
but that she being a verie beastly creature layes claime to me

Anti. What is she?

Dro. A very reuerent body: I such a one, as a man may not speake of,
without he say sir reuerence, I haue but leane lucke in the match, and
yet is she a wondrous fat marriage

Anti. How dost thou meane a fat marriage?   Dro. Marry sir, she's
the Kitchin wench, & al grease, and I know not what vse to put her too,
but to make a Lampe of her, and run from her by her owne light. I
warrant, her ragges and the Tallow in them, will burne a Poland Winter:
If she liues till doomesday, she'l burne a weeke longer then the whole
World

Anti. What complexion is she of?

Dro. Swart like my shoo, but her face nothing like so cleane kept:
for why? she sweats a man may goe ouer-shooes in the grime of it

Anti. That's a fault that water will mend

Dro. No sir, 'tis in graine, Noahs flood could not do it

Anti. What's her name?

Dro. Nell Sir: but her name is three quarters, that's an Ell and
three quarters, will not measure her from hip to hip

Anti. Then she beares some bredth?

Dro. No longer from head to foot, then from hippe to hippe: she is
sphericall, like a globe: I could find out Countries in her

Anti. In what part of her body stands Ireland?   Dro. Marry sir in
her buttockes, I found it out by the bogges

Ant. Where Scotland?

Dro. I found it by the barrennesse, hard in the palme of the hand

Ant. Where France?

Dro. In her forhead, arm'd and reuerted, making warre against her
heire

Ant. Where England?

Dro. I look'd for the chalkle Cliffes, but I could find no whitenesse
in them. But I guesse, it stood in her chin by the salt rheume that
ranne betweene France, and it

Ant. Where Spaine?

Dro. Faith I saw it not: but I felt it hot in her breth

Ant. Where America, the Indies?

Dro. Oh sir, vpon her nose, all ore embellished with Rubies,
Carbuncles, Saphires, declining their rich Aspect to the hot breath of
Spaine, who sent whole Armadoes of Carrects to be ballast at her nose

Anti. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands?   Dro. Oh sir, I did not
looke so low. To conclude, this drudge or Diuiner layd claime to mee,
call'd mee Dromio, swore I was assur'd to her, told me what priuie
markes I had about mee, as the marke of my shoulder, the Mole in my
necke, the great Wart on my left arme, that I amaz'd ranne from her as
a witch. And I thinke, if my brest had not beene made of faith, and my
heart of steele, she had transform'd me to a Curtull dog, & made me
turne i'th wheele

Anti. Go hie thee presently, post to the rode, And if the winde blow
any way from shore, I will not harbour in this Towne to night. If any
Barke put forth, come to the Mart, Where I will walke till thou returne
to me: If euerie one knowes vs, and we know none, 'Tis time I thinke to
trudge, packe, and be gone

Dro. As from a Beare a man would run for life, So flie I from her
that would be my wife.

Exit

Anti. There's none but Witches do inhabite heere, And therefore 'tis
hie time that I were hence: She that doth call me husband, euen my
soule Doth for a wife abhorre. But her faire sister Possest with such a
gentle soueraigne grace, Of such inchanting presence and discourse,
Hath almost made me Traitor to my selfe:

But least my selfe be guilty to selfe wrong, Ile stop mine eares
against the Mermaids song.

Enter Angelo with the Chaine.

Ang. Mr Antipholus

Anti. I that's my name

Ang. I know it well sir, loe here's the chaine, I thought to haue
tane you at the Porpentine, The chaine vnfinish'd made me stay thus
long

Anti. What is your will that I shal do with this?   Ang. What please
your selfe sir: I haue made it for you

Anti. Made it for me sir, I bespoke it not

Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twentie times you haue:

Go home with it, and please your Wife withall, And soone at supper time
Ile visit you,

And then receiue my money for the chaine

Anti. I pray you sir receiue the money now. For feare you ne're see
chaine, nor mony more

Ang. You are a merry man sir, fare you well.

Enter.

Ant. What I should thinke of this, I cannot tell: But this I thinke,
there's no man is so vaine, That would refuse so faire an offer'd
Chaine. I see a man heere needs not liue by shifts, When in the streets
he meetes such Golden gifts: Ile to the Mart, and there for Dromio
stay, If any ship put out, then straight away.

Enter.



Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.

Enter a Merchant, Goldsmith, and an Officer.

Mar. You know since Pentecost the sum is due, And since I haue not
much importun'd you, Nor now I had not, but that I am bound

To Persia, and want Gilders for my voyage: Therefore make present
satisfaction,

Or Ile attach you by this Officer

Gold. Euen iust the sum that I do owe to you, Is growing to me by
Antipholus,

And in the instant that I met with you,

He had of me a Chaine, at fiue a clocke

I shall receiue the money for the same:

Pleaseth you walke with me downe to his house, I will discharge my
bond, and thanke you too.

Enter Antipholus Ephes.Dromio from the Courtizans.

Offi. That labour may you saue: See where he comes

Ant. While I go to the Goldsmiths house, go thou And buy a ropes
end, that will I bestow

Among my wife, and their confederates,

For locking me out of my doores by day:

But soft I see the Goldsmith; get thee gone, Buy thou a rope, and bring
it home to me

Dro. I buy a thousand pound a yeare, I buy a rope.

Exit Dromio

Eph.Ant. A man is well holpe vp that trusts to you, I promised your
presence, and the Chaine, But neither Chaine nor Goldsmith came to me:
Belike you thought our loue would last too long If it were chain'd
together: and therefore came not

Gold. Sauing your merrie humor: here's the note How much your Chaine
weighs to the vtmost charect, The finenesse of the Gold, and chargefull
fashion, Which doth amount to three odde Duckets more Then I stand
debted to this Gentleman,

I pray you see him presently discharg'd,

For he is bound to Sea, and stayes but for it

Anti. I am not furnish'd with the present monie: Besides I haue some
businesse in the towne, Good Signior take the stranger to my house, And
with you take the Chaine, and bid my wife Disburse the summe, on the
receit thereof, Perchance I will be there as soone as you

Gold. Then you will bring the Chaine to her your selfe

Anti. No beare it with you, least I come not time enough

Gold. Well sir, I will? Haue you the Chaine about you?

Ant. And if I haue not sir, I hope you haue: Or else you may returne
without your money

Gold. Nay come I pray you sir, giue me the Chaine: Both winde and
tide stayes for this Gentleman, And I too blame haue held him heere too
long

Anti. Good Lord, you vse this dalliance to excuse Your breach of
promise to the Porpentine, I should haue chid you for not bringing it,
But like a shrew you first begin to brawle

Mar. The houre steales on, I pray you sir dispatch

Gold. You heare how he importunes me, the Chaine

Ant. Why giue it to my wife, and fetch your mony

Gold. Come, come, you know I gaue it you euen now. Either send the
Chaine, or send me by some token

Ant. Fie, now you run this humor out of breath, Come where's the
Chaine, I pray you let me see it

Mar. My businesse cannot brooke this dalliance, Good sir say, whe'r
you'l answer me, or no: If not, Ile leaue him to the Officer

Ant. I answer you? What should I answer you

Gold. The monie that you owe me for the Chaine

Ant. I owe you none, till I receiue the Chaine

Gold. You know I gaue it you halfe an houre since

Ant. You gaue me none, you wrong mee much to say so

Gold. You wrong me more sir in denying it. Consider how it stands
vpon my credit

Mar. Well Officer, arrest him at my suite

Offi. I do, and charge you in the Dukes name to obey me

Gold. This touches me in reputation.

Either consent to pay this sum for me,

Or I attach you by this Officer

Ant. Consent to pay thee that I neuer had: Arrest me foolish fellow
if thou dar'st

Gold. Heere is thy fee, arrest him Officer. I would not spare my
brother in this case, If he should scorne me so apparantly

Offic. I do arrest you sir, you heare the suite

Ant. I do obey thee, till I giue thee baile. But sirrah, you shall
buy this sport as deere, As all the mettall in your shop will answer

Gold. Sir, sir, I shall haue Law in Ephesus, To your notorious
shame, I doubt it not.

Enter Dromio Sira. from the Bay.

Dro. Master, there's a Barke of Epidamium, That staies but till her
Owner comes aboord, And then sir she beares away. Our fraughtage sir, I
haue conuei'd aboord, and I haue bought The Oyle, the Balsamum, and
Aqua-vitae.

The ship is in her trim, the merrie winde Blowes faire from land: they
stay for nought at all, But for their Owner, Master, and your selfe

An. How now? a Madman? Why thou peeuish sheep What ship of Epidamium
staies for me

S.Dro. A ship you sent me too, to hier waftage

Ant. Thou drunken slaue, I sent thee for a rope, And told thee to
what purpose, and what end

S.Dro. You sent me for a ropes end as soone, You sent me to the Bay
sir, for a Barke

Ant. I will debate this matter at more leisure And teach your eares
to list me with more heede: To Adriana Villaine hie thee straight:

Giue her this key, and tell her in the Deske That's couer'd o're with
Turkish Tapistrie, There is a purse of Duckets, let her send it: Tell
her, I am arrested in the streete,

And that shall baile me: hie thee slaue, be gone, On Officer to prison,
till it come.

Exeunt.

S.Dromio. To Adriana, that is where we din'd, Where Dowsabell did
claime me for her husband, She is too bigge I hope for me to compasse,
Thither I must, although against my will: For seruants must their
Masters mindes fulfill.

Exit

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adr. Ah Luciana, did he tempt thee so?

Might'st thou perceiue austeerely in his eie, That he did plead in
earnest, yea or no:

Look'd he or red or pale, or sad or merrily? What obseruation mad'st
thou in this case? Oh, his hearts Meteors tilting in his face

Luc. First he deni'de you had in him no right

Adr. He meant he did me none: the more my spight   Luc. Then swore
he that he was a stranger heere

Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworne hee were

Luc. Then pleaded I for you

Adr. And what said he?

Luc. That loue I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me

Adr. With what perswasion did he tempt thy loue?   Luc. With words,
that in an honest suit might moue. First, he did praise my beautie,
then my speech

Adr. Did'st speake him faire?

Luc. Haue patience I beseech

Adr. I cannot, nor I will not hold me still. My tongue, though not
my heart, shall haue his will. He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere,

Ill-fac'd, worse bodied, shapelesse euery where: Vicious, vngentle,
foolish, blunt, vnkinde, Stigmaticall in making worse in minde

Luc. Who would be iealous then of such a one? No euill lost is
wail'd, when it is gone

Adr. Ah but I thinke him better then I say: And yet would herein
others eies were worse: Farre from her nest the Lapwing cries away; My
heart praies for him, though my tongue doe curse.

Enter S.Dromio.

Dro. Here goe: the deske, the purse, sweet now make haste

Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath?

S.Dro. By running fast

Adr. Where is thy Master Dromio? Is he well?   S.Dro. No, he's in
Tartar limbo, worse then hell: A diuell in an euerlasting garment hath
him; On whose hard heart is button'd vp with steele: A Feind, a Fairie,
pittilesse and ruffe:

A Wolfe, nay worse, a fellow all in buffe: A back friend, a
shoulder-clapper, one that counterma[n]ds The passages of allies,
creekes, and narrow lands: A hound that runs Counter, and yet draws
drifoot well, One that before the Iudgme[n]t carries poore soules to
hel

Adr. Why man, what is the matter?

S.Dro. I doe not know the matter, hee is rested on the case

Adr. What is he arrested? tell me at whose suite?   S.Dro. I know
not at whose suite he is arested well; but is in a suite of buffe which
rested him, that can I tell, will you send him Mistris redemption, the
monie in his deske

Adr. Go fetch it Sister: this I wonder at.

Exit Luciana.

Thus he vnknowne to me should be in debt: Tell me, was he arested on a
band?

S.Dro. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing: A chaine, a chaine,
doe you not here it ring

Adria. What, the chaine?

S.Dro. No, no, the bell, 'tis time that I were gone: It was two ere I
left him, and now the clocke strikes one

Adr. The houres come backe, that did I neuer here

S.Dro. Oh yes, if any houre meete a Serieant, a turnes backe for
verie feare

Adri. As if time were in debt: how fondly do'st thou reason?

S.Dro. Time is a verie bankerout, and owes more then he's worth to
season.

Nay, he's a theefe too: haue you not heard men say, That time comes
stealing on by night and day? If I be in debt and theft, and a Serieant
in the way, Hath he not reason to turne backe an houre in a day?

Enter Luciana.

Adr. Go Dromio, there's the monie, beare it straight, And bring thy
Master home imediately.

Come sister, I am prest downe with conceit: Conceit, my comfort and my
iniurie.

Enter.

Enter Antipholus Siracusia.

There's not a man I meete but doth salute me As if I were their well
acquainted friend, And euerie one doth call me by my name:

Some tender monie to me, some inuite me;

Some other giue me thankes for kindnesses; Some offer me Commodities to
buy.

Euen now a tailor cal'd me in his shop,

And show'd me Silkes that he had bought for me, And therewithall tooke
measure of my body. Sure these are but imaginarie wiles,

And lapland Sorcerers inhabite here.

Enter Dromio. Sir.

S.Dro. Master, here's the gold you sent me for: what haue you got the
picture of old Adam new apparel'd?   Ant. What gold is this? What Adam
do'st thou meane?

S.Dro. Not that Adam that kept the Paradise: but that Adam that
keepes the prison; hee that goes in the calues-skin, that was kil'd for
the Prodigall: hee that came behinde you sir, like an euill angel, and
bid you forsake your libertie

Ant. I vnderstand thee not

S.Dro. No? why 'tis a plaine case: he that went like a Base-Viole in
a case of leather; the man sir, that when gentlemen are tired giues
them a sob, and rests them: he sir, that takes pittie on decaied men,
and giues them suites of durance: he that sets vp his rest to doe more
exploits with his Mace, then a Moris Pike

Ant. What thou mean'st an officer?

S.Dro. I sir, the Serieant of the Band: he that brings any man to
answer it that breakes his Band: one that thinkes a man alwaies going
to bed, and saies, God giue you good rest

Ant. Well sir, there rest in your foolerie: Is there any ships puts
forth to night? may we be gone?   S.Dro. Why sir, I brought you word an
houre since, that the Barke Expedition put forth to night, and then
were you hindred by the Serieant to tarry for the Hoy Delay: Here are
the angels that you sent for to deliuer you

Ant. The fellow is distract, and so am I, And here we wander in
illusions:

Some blessed power deliuer vs from hence.

Enter a Curtizan.

Cur. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus: I see sir you haue found
the Gold-smith now: Is that the chaine you promis'd me to day

Ant. Sathan auoide, I charge thee tempt me not

S.Dro. Master, is this Mistris Sathan?   Ant. It is the diuell

S.Dro. Nay, she is worse, she is the diuels dam: And here she comes
in the habit of a light wench, and thereof comes, that the wenches say
God dam me, That's as much to say, God make me a light wench: It is
written, they appeare to men like angels of light, light is an effect
of fire, and fire will burne: ergo, light wenches will burne, come not
neere her

Cur. Your man and you are maruailous merrie sir. Will you goe with
me, wee'll mend our dinner here?   S.Dro. Master, if do expect
spoon-meate, or bespeake a long spoone

Ant. Why Dromio?

S.Dro. Marrie he must haue a long spoone that must eate with the
diuell

Ant. Auoid then fiend, what tel'st thou me of supping? Thou art, as
you are all a sorceresse:

I coniure thee to leaue me, and be gon

Cur. Giue me the ring of mine you had at dinner, Or for my Diamond
the Chaine you promis'd, And Ile be gone sir, and not trouble you

S.Dro. Some diuels aske but the parings of ones naile, a rush, a
haire, a drop of blood, a pin, a nut, a cherriestone: but she more
couetous, wold haue a chaine: Master be wise, and if you giue it her,
the diuell will shake her Chaine, and fright vs with it

Cur. I pray you sir my Ring, or else the Chaine, I hope you do not
meane to cheate me so?

Ant. Auant thou witch: Come Dromio let vs go

S.Dro. Flie pride saies the Pea-cocke, Mistris that you know.

Enter.

Cur. Now out of doubt Antipholus is mad, Else would he neuer so
demeane himselfe,

A Ring he hath of mine worth fortie Duckets, And for the same he
promis'd me a Chaine, Both one and other he denies me now:

The reason that I gather he is mad,

Besides this present instance of his rage, Is a mad tale he told to day
at dinner,

Of his owne doores being shut against his entrance. Belike his wife
acquainted with his fits, On purpose shut the doores against his way:
My way is now to hie home to his house,

And tell his wife, that being Lunaticke,

He rush'd into my house, and tooke perforce My Ring away. This course I
fittest choose, For fortie Duckets is too much to loose.

Enter Antipholus Ephes. with a Iailor.

An. Feare me not man, I will not breake away, Ile giue thee ere I
leaue thee so much money To warrant thee as I am rested for.

My wife is in a wayward moode to day,

And will not lightly trust the Messenger, That I should be attach'd in
Ephesus,

I tell you 'twill sound harshly in her eares.

Enter Dromio Eph. with a ropes end.

Heere comes my Man, I thinke he brings the monie. How now sir? Haue you
that I sent you for?   E.Dro. Here's that I warrant you will pay them
all

Anti. But where's the Money?

E.Dro. Why sir, I gaue the Monie for the Rope

Ant. Fiue hundred Duckets villaine for a rope?   E.Dro. Ile serue
you sir fiue hundred at the rate

Ant. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home?   E.Dro. To a ropes
end sir, and to that end am I return'd

Ant. And to that end sir, I will welcome you

Offi. Good sir be patient

E.Dro. Nay 'tis for me to be patient, I am in aduersitie

Offi. Good now hold thy tongue

E.Dro. Nay, rather perswade him to hold his hands

Anti. Thou whoreson senselesse Villaine

E.Dro. I would I were senselesse sir, that I might not feele your
blowes

Anti. Thou art sensible in nothing but blowes, and so is an Asse

E.Dro. I am an Asse indeede, you may prooue it by my long eares. I
haue serued him from the houre of my Natiuitie to this instant, and
haue nothing at his hands for my seruice but blowes. When I am cold, he
heates me with beating: when I am warme, he cooles me with beating: I
am wak'd with it when I sleepe, rais'd with it when I sit, driuen out
of doores with it when I goe from home, welcom'd home with it when I
returne, nay I beare it on my shoulders, as a begger woont her brat:
and I thinke when he hath lam'd me, I shall begge with it from doore to
doore.

Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtizan, and a Schoolemaster, call'd Pinch.

Ant. Come goe along, my wife is comming yonder

E.Dro. Mistris respice finem, respect your end, or rather the
prophesie like the Parrat, beware the ropes end

Anti. Wilt thou still talke?

Beats Dro.

Curt. How say you now? Is not your husband mad?   Adri. His
inciuility confirmes no lesse: Good Doctor Pinch, you are a Coniurer,

Establish him in his true sence againe,

And I will please you what you will demand

Luc. Alas how fiery, and how sharpe he lookes

Cur. Marke, how he trembles in his extasie

Pinch. Giue me your hand, and let mee feele your pulse

Ant. There is my hand, and let it feele your eare

Pinch. I charge thee Sathan, hous'd within this man, To yeeld
possession to my holie praiers,

And to thy state of darknesse hie thee straight, I coniure thee by all
the Saints in heauen

Anti. Peace doting wizard, peace; I am not mad

Adr. Oh that thou wer't not, poore distressed soule

Anti. You Minion you, are these your Customers? Did this Companion
with the saffron face

Reuell and feast it at my house to day,

Whil'st vpon me the guiltie doores were shut, And I denied to enter in
my house

Adr. O husband, God doth know you din'd at home Where would you had
remain'd vntill this time, Free from these slanders, and this open
shame

Anti. Din'd at home? Thou Villaine, what sayest thou?

Dro. Sir sooth to say, you did not dine at home

Ant. Were not my doores lockt vp, and I shut out?   Dro. Perdie,
your doores were lockt, and you shut out

Anti. And did not she her selfe reuile me there?   Dro. Sans Fable,
she her selfe reuil'd you there

Anti. Did not her Kitchen maide raile, taunt, and scorne me?

Dro. Certis she did, the kitchin vestall scorn'd you

Ant. And did not I in rage depart from thence?   Dro. In veritie you
did, my bones beares witnesse, That since haue felt the vigor of his
rage

Adr. Is't good to sooth him in these contraries?   Pinch. It is no
shame, the fellow finds his vaine, And yeelding to him, humors well his
frensie

Ant. Thou hast subborn'd the Goldsmith to arrest mee

Adr. Alas, I sent you Monie to redeeme you, By Dromio heere, who
came in hast for it

Dro. Monie by me? Heart and good will you might, But surely Master
not a ragge of Monie

Ant. Wentst not thou to her for a purse of Duckets

Adri. He came to me, and I deliuer'd it

Luci. And I am witnesse with her that she did:   Dro. God and the
Rope-maker beare me witnesse, That I was sent for nothing but a rope

Pinch. Mistris, both Man and Master is possest, I know it by their
pale and deadly lookes, They must be bound and laide in some darke
roome

Ant. Say wherefore didst thou locke me forth to day, And why dost
thou denie the bagge of gold?   Adr. I did not gentle husband locke
thee forth

Dro. And gentle Mr I receiu'd no gold: But I confesse sir, that we
were lock'd out

Adr. Dissembling Villain, thou speak'st false in both   Ant.
Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all, And art confederate with a
damned packe,

To make a loathsome abiect scorne of me:

But with these nailes, Ile plucke out these false eyes, That would
behold in me this shamefull sport.

Enter three or foure, and offer to binde him: Hee striues.

Adr. Oh binde him, binde him, let him not come neere me

Pinch. More company, the fiend is strong within him   Luc. Aye me
poore man, how pale and wan he looks

Ant. What will you murther me, thou Iailor thou? I am thy prisoner,
wilt thou suffer them to make a rescue?   Offi. Masters let him go: he
is my prisoner, and you shall not haue him

Pinch. Go binde this man, for he is franticke too

Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peeuish Officer? Hast thou delight to
see a wretched man

Do outrage and displeasure to himselfe?

Offi. He is my prisoner, if I let him go, The debt he owes will be
requir'd of me

Adr. I will discharge thee ere I go from thee, Beare me forthwith
vnto his Creditor,

And knowing how the debt growes I will pay it. Good Master Doctor see
him safe conuey'd

Home to my house, oh most vnhappy day

Ant. Oh most vnhappie strumpet

Dro. Master, I am heere entred in bond for you

Ant. Out on thee Villaine, wherefore dost thou mad mee?

Dro. Will you be bound for nothing, be mad good Master, cry the
diuell

Luc. God helpe poore soules, how idlely doe they talke

Adr. Go beare him hence, sister go you with me: Say now, whose suite
is he arrested at?

Exeunt. Manet Offic. Adri. Luci. Courtizan

Off. One Angelo a Goldsmith, do you know him?   Adr. I know the man:
what is the summe he owes?   Off. Two hundred Duckets

Adr. Say, how growes it due

Off. Due for a Chaine your husband had of him

Adr. He did bespeake a Chain for me, but had it not

Cur. When as your husband all in rage to day Came to my house, and
tooke away my Ring, The Ring I saw vpon his finger now,

Straight after did I meete him with a Chaine

Adr. It may be so, but I did neuer see it. Come Iailor, bring me
where the Goldsmith is, I long to know the truth heereof at large.

Enter Antipholus Siracusia with his Rapier drawne, and Dromio Sirac.

Luc. God for thy mercy, they are loose againe

Adr. And come with naked swords,

Let's call more helpe to haue them bound againe.

Runne all out.

Off. Away, they'l kill vs.

Exeunt. omnes, as fast as may be, frighted.

S.Ant. I see these Witches are affraid of swords

S.Dro. She that would be your wife, now ran from you

Ant. Come to the Centaur, fetch our stuffe from thence:

I long that we were safe and sound aboord

Dro. Faith stay heere this night, they will surely do vs no harme:
you saw they speake vs faire, giue vs gold: me thinkes they are such a
gentle Nation, that but for the Mountaine of mad flesh that claimes
mariage of me, I could finde in my heart to stay heere still, and turne
Witch

Ant. I will not stay to night for all the Towne, Therefore away, to
get our stuffe aboord.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

Enter the Merchant and the Goldsmith.

Gold. I am sorry Sir that I haue hindred you, But I protest he had
the Chaine of me,

Though most dishonestly he doth denie it

Mar. How is the man esteem'd heere in the Citie?   Gold. Of very
reuerent reputation sir,

Of credit infinite, highly belou'd,

Second to none that liues heere in the Citie: His word might beare my
wealth at any time

Mar. Speake softly, yonder as I thinke he walkes.

Enter Antipholus and Dromio againe.

Gold. 'Tis so: and that selfe chaine about his necke, Which he
forswore most monstrously to haue. Good sir draw neere to me, Ile
speake to him: Signior Antipholus, I wonder much

That you would put me to this shame and trouble, And not without some
scandall to your selfe, With circumstance and oaths, so to denie

This Chaine, which now you weare so openly. Beside the charge, the
shame, imprisonment, You haue done wrong to this my honest friend, Who
but for staying on our Controuersie,

Had hoisted saile, and put to sea to day: This Chaine you had of me,
can you deny it?   Ant. I thinke I had, I neuer did deny it

Mar. Yes that you did sir, and forswore it too

Ant. Who heard me to denie it or forsweare it?   Mar. These eares of
mine thou knowst did hear thee: Fie on thee wretch, 'tis pitty that
thou liu'st To walke where any honest men resort

Ant. Thou art a Villaine to impeach me thus, Ile proue mine honor,
and mine honestie

Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand:   Mar. I dare and do
defie thee for a villaine.

They draw. Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, & others.

Adr. Hold, hurt him not for God sake, he is mad, Some get within him,
take his sword away: Binde Dromio too, and beare them to my house

S.Dro. Runne master run, for Gods sake take a house, This is some
Priorie, in, or we are spoyl'd.

Exeunt. to the Priorie.

Enter Ladie Abbesse.

Ab. Be quiet people, wherefore throng you hither?   Adr. To fetch my
poore distracted husband hence, Let vs come in, that we may binde him
fast, And beare him home for his recouerie

Gold. I knew he was not in his perfect wits

Mar. I am sorry now that I did draw on him

Ab. How long hath this possession held the man

Adr. This weeke he hath beene heauie, sower sad, And much different
from the man he was:

But till this afternoone his passion

Ne're brake into extremity of rage

Ab. Hath he not lost much wealth by wrack of sea, Buried some deere
friend, hath not else his eye Stray'd his affection in vnlawfull loue,

A sinne preuailing much in youthfull men, Who giue their eies the
liberty of gazing. Which of these sorrowes is he subiect too?   Adr. To
none of these, except it be the last, Namely, some loue that drew him
oft from home

Ab. You should for that haue reprehended him

Adr. Why so I did

Ab. I but not rough enough

Adr. As roughly as my modestie would let me

Ab. Haply in priuate

Adr. And in assemblies too

Ab. I, but not enough

Adr. It was the copie of our Conference. In bed he slept not for my
vrging it,

At boord he fed not for my vrging it:

Alone, it was the subiect of my Theame:

In company I often glanced it:

Still did I tell him, it was vilde and bad

Ab. And thereof came it, that the man was mad. The venome clamors of
a iealous woman,

Poisons more deadly then a mad dogges tooth. It seemes his sleepes were
hindred by thy railing, And thereof comes it that his head is light.
Thou saist his meate was sawc'd with thy vpbraidings, Vnquiet meales
make ill digestions,

Thereof the raging fire of feauer bred,

And what's a Feauer, but a fit of madnesse? Thou sayest his sports were
hindred by thy bralles. Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue

But moodie and dull melancholly,

Kinsman to grim and comfortlesse dispaire, And at her heeles a huge
infectious troope Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life? In food,
in sport, and life-preseruing rest To be disturb'd, would mad or man,
or beast: The consequence is then, thy iealous fits Hath scar'd thy
husband from the vse of wits

Luc. She neuer reprehended him but mildely, When he demean'd
himselfe, rough, rude, and wildly, Why beare you these rebukes, and
answer not?   Adri. She did betray me to my owne reproofe, Good people
enter, and lay hold on him

Ab. No, not a creature enters in my house

Ad. Then let your seruants bring my husband forth   Ab. Neither: he
tooke this place for sanctuary, And it shall priuiledge him from your
hands, Till I haue brought him to his wits againe, Or loose my labour
in assaying it

Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse, Diet his sicknesse, for
it is my Office,

And will haue no atturney but my selfe,

And therefore let me haue him home with me

Ab. Be patient, for I will not let him stirre, Till I haue vs'd the
approoued meanes I haue, With wholsome sirrups, drugges, and holy
prayers To make of him a formall man againe:

It is a branch and parcell of mine oath,

A charitable dutie of my order,

Therefore depart, and leaue him heere with me

Adr. I will not hence, and leaue my husband heere: And ill it doth
beseeme your holinesse

To separate the husband and the wife

Ab. Be quiet and depart, thou shalt not haue him

Luc. Complaine vnto the Duke of this indignity

Adr. Come go, I will fall prostrate at his feete, And neuer rise
vntill my teares and prayers Haue won his grace to come in person
hither, And take perforce my husband from the Abbesse

Mar. By this I thinke the Diall points at fiue: Anon I'me sure the
Duke himselfe in person Comes this way to the melancholly vale;

The place of depth, and sorrie execution, Behinde the ditches of the
Abbey heere

Gold. Vpon what cause?

Mar. To see a reuerent Siracusian Merchant, Who put vnluckily into
this Bay

Against the Lawes and Statutes of this Towne, Beheaded publikely for
his offence

Gold. See where they come, we wil behold his death   Luc. Kneele to
the Duke before he passe the Abbey.

Enter the Duke of Ephesus, and the Merchant of Siracuse bare head,
with

the Headsman, & other Officers.

Duke. Yet once againe proclaime it publikely, If any friend will pay
the summe for him, He shall not die, so much we tender him

Adr. Iustice most sacred Duke against the Abbesse

Duke. She is a vertuous and a reuerend Lady, It cannot be that she
hath done thee wrong

Adr. May it please your Grace, Antipholus my husba[n]d, Who I made
Lord of me, and all I had,

At your important Letters this ill day,

A most outragious fit of madnesse tooke him: That desp'rately he
hurried through the streete, With him his bondman, all as mad as he,

Doing displeasure to the Citizens,

By rushing in their houses: bearing thence Rings, Iewels, any thing his
rage did like. Once did I get him bound, and sent him home, Whil'st to
take order for the wrongs I went, That heere and there his furie had
committed, Anon I wot not, by what strong escape

He broke from those that had the guard of him, And with his mad
attendant and himselfe,

Each one with irefull passion, with drawne swords Met vs againe, and
madly bent on vs

Chac'd vs away: till raising of more aide We came againe to binde them:
then they fled Into this Abbey, whether we pursu'd them, And heere the
Abbesse shuts the gates on vs, And will not suffer vs to fetch him
out,

Nor send him forth, that we may beare him hence. Therefore most
gracious Duke with thy command, Let him be brought forth, and borne
hence for helpe

Duke. Long since thy husband seru'd me in my wars And I to thee
ingag'd a Princes word,

When thou didst make him Master of thy bed, To do him all the grace and
good I could. Go some of you, knocke at the Abbey gate, And bid the
Lady Abbesse come to me:

I will determine this before I stirre.

Enter a Messenger.

Oh Mistris, Mistris, shift and saue your selfe, My Master and his man
are both broke loose, Beaten the Maids a-row, and bound the Doctor,
Whose beard they haue sindg'd off with brands of fire, And euer as it
blaz'd, they threw on him

Great pailes of puddled myre to quench the haire; My Mr preaches
patience to him, and the while His man with Cizers nickes him like a
foole: And sure (vnlesse you send some present helpe) Betweene them
they will kill the Coniurer

Adr. Peace foole, thy Master and his man are here, And that is false
thou dost report to vs

Mess. Mistris, vpon my life I tel you true, I haue not breath'd
almost since I did see it. He cries for you, and vowes if he can take
you, To scorch your face, and to disfigure you:

Cry within.

Harke, harke, I heare him Mistris: flie, be gone

Duke. Come stand by me, feare nothing: guard with Halberds

Adr. Ay me, it is my husband: witnesse you, That he is borne about
inuisible,

Euen now we hous'd him in the Abbey heere. And now he's there, past
thought of humane reason.

Enter Antipholus, and E.Dromio of Ephesus.

E.Ant. Iustice most gracious Duke, oh grant me iustice, Euen for the
seruice that long since I did thee, When I bestrid thee in the warres,
and tooke Deepe scarres to saue thy life; euen for the blood That then
I lost for thee, now grant me iustice

Mar.Fat. Vnlesse the feare of death doth make me dote, I see my
sonne Antipholus and Dromio

E.Ant. Iustice (sweet Prince) against y Woman there: She whom thou
gau'st to me to be my wife; That hath abused and dishonored me,

Euen in the strength and height of iniurie: Beyond imagination is the
wrong

That she this day hath shamelesse throwne on me

Duke. Discouer how, and thou shalt finde me iust

E.Ant. This day (great Duke) she shut the doores vpon me,

While she with Harlots feasted in my house

Duke. A greeuous fault: say woman, didst thou so?   Adr. No my good
Lord. My selfe, he, and my sister, To day did dine together: so befall
my soule, As this is false he burthens me withall

Luc. Nere may I looke on day, nor sleepe on night, But she tels to
your Highnesse simple truth

Gold. O periur'd woman! They are both forsworne, In this the Madman
iustly chargeth them

E.Ant. My Liege, I am aduised what I say, Neither disturbed with the
effect of Wine, Nor headie-rash prouoak'd with raging ire, Albeit my
wrongs might make one wiser mad. This woman lock'd me out this day from
dinner; That Goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her, Could
witnesse it: for he was with me then, Who parted with me to go fetch a
Chaine,

Promising to bring it to the Porpentine,

Where Balthasar and I did dine together.

Our dinner done, and he not comming thither, I went to seeke him. In
the street I met him, And in his companie that Gentleman.

There did this periur'd Goldsmith sweare me downe, That I this day of
him receiu'd the Chaine, Which God he knowes, I saw not. For the which,
He did arrest me with an Officer.

I did obey, and sent my Pesant home

For certaine Duckets: he with none return'd. Then fairely I bespoke the
Officer

To go in person with me to my house.

By'th' way, we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble more Of vilde
Confederates: Along with them

They brought one Pinch, a hungry leane-fac'd Villaine; A meere
Anatomie, a Mountebanke,

A thred-bare Iugler, and a Fortune-teller, A
needy-hollow-ey'd-sharpe-looking-wretch; A liuing dead man. This
pernicious slaue, Forsooth tooke on him as a Coniurer:

And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, And with no-face (as 'twere)
out-facing me, Cries out, I was possest. Then altogether They fell vpon
me, bound me, bore me thence, And in a darke and dankish vault at home

There left me and my man, both bound together, Till gnawing with my
teeth my bonds in sunder, I gain'd my freedome; and immediately

Ran hether to your Grace, whom I beseech

To giue me ample satisfaction

For these deepe shames, and great indignities

Gold. My Lord, in truth, thus far I witnes with him: That he din'd
not at home, but was lock'd out

Duke. But had he such a Chaine of thee, or no?   Gold. He had my
Lord, and when he ran in heere, These people saw the Chaine about his
necke

Mar. Besides, I will be sworne these eares of mine, Heard you
confesse you had the Chaine of him, After you first forswore it on the
Mart,

And thereupon I drew my sword on you:

And then you fled into this Abbey heere,

From whence I thinke you are come by Miracle

E.Ant. I neuer came within these Abbey wals, Nor euer didst thou
draw thy sword on me: I neuer saw the Chaine, so helpe me heauen: And
this is false you burthen me withall

Duke. Why what an intricate impeach is this? I thinke you all haue
drunke of Circes cup: If heere you hous'd him, heere he would haue bin.
If he were mad, he would not pleade so coldly: You say he din'd at
home, the Goldsmith heere Denies that saying. Sirra, what say you?

E.Dro. Sir he din'de with her there, at the Porpentine

Cur. He did, and from my finger snacht that Ring

E.Anti. Tis true (my Liege) this Ring I had of her

Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the Abbey heere?   Curt. As sure (my
Liege) as I do see your Grace

Duke. Why this is straunge: Go call the Abbesse hither. I thinke you
are all mated, or starke mad.

Exit one to the Abbesse.

Fa. Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a word: Haply I see a friend
will saue my life,

And pay the sum that may deliuer me

Duke. Speake freely Siracusian what thou wilt

Fath. Is not your name sir call'd Antipholus? And is not that your
bondman Dromio?

E.Dro. Within this houre I was his bondman sir, But he I thanke him
gnaw'd in two my cords, Now am I Dromio, and his man, vnbound

Fath. I am sure you both of you remember me

Dro. Our selues we do remember sir by you: For lately we were bound
as you are now.

You are not Pinches patient, are you sir?   Father. Why looke you
strange on me? you know me well

E.Ant. I neuer saw you in my life till now

Fa. Oh! griefe hath chang'd me since you saw me last, And carefull
houres with times deformed hand, Haue written strange defeatures in my
face: But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?   Ant. Neither

Fat. Dromio, nor thou?

Dro. No trust me sir, nor I

Fa. I am sure thou dost?

E.Dromio. I sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatsoeuer a man denies,
you are now bound to beleeue him

Fath. Not know my voice, oh times extremity Hast thou so crack'd and
splitted my poore tongue In seuen short yeares, that heere my onely
sonne Knowes not my feeble key of vntun'd cares? Though now this
grained face of mine be hid In sap-consuming Winters drizled snow,

And all the Conduits of my blood froze vp: Yet hath my night of life
some memorie:

My wasting lampes some fading glimmer left; My dull deafe eares a
little vse to heare: All these old witnesses, I cannot erre.

Tell me, thou art my sonne Antipholus

Ant. I neuer saw my Father in my life

Fa. But seuen yeares since, in Siracusa boy Thou know'st we parted,
but perhaps my sonne, Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in miserie

Ant. The Duke, and all that know me in the City, Can witnesse with
me that it is not so.

I ne're saw Siracusa in my life

Duke. I tell thee Siracusian, twentie yeares Haue I bin Patron to
Antipholus,

During which time, he ne're saw Siracusa: I see thy age and dangers
make thee dote.

Enter the Abbesse with Antipholus Siracusa, and Dromio Sir.

Abbesse. Most mightie Duke, behold a man much wrong'd.

All gather to see them.

Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceiue me

Duke. One of these men is genius to the other: And so of these,
which is the naturall man, And which the spirit? Who deciphers them?
S.Dromio. I Sir am Dromio, command him away

E.Dro. I Sir am Dromio, pray let me stay

S.Ant. Egeon art thou not? or else his ghost

S.Drom. Oh my olde Master, who hath bound him heere?

Abb. Who euer bound him, I will lose his bonds, And gaine a husband
by his libertie:

Speake olde Egeon, if thou bee'st the man That hadst a wife once call'd
Aemilia,

That bore thee at a burthen two faire sonnes? Oh if thou bee'st the
same Egeon, speake: And speake vnto the same Aemilia

Duke. Why heere begins his Morning storie right: These two
Antipholus, these two so like,

And these two Dromio's, one in semblance: Besides her vrging of her
wracke at sea,

These are the parents to these children,

Which accidentally are met together

Fa. If I dreame not, thou art Aemilia, If thou art she, tell me,
where is that sonne That floated with thee on the fatall rafte

Abb. By men of Epidamium, he, and I,

And the twin Dromio, all were taken vp;

But by and by, rude Fishermen of Corinth

By force tooke Dromio, and my sonne from them, And me they left with
those of Epidamium. What then became of them, I cannot tell:

I, to this fortune that you see mee in

Duke. Antipholus thou cam'st from Corinth first

S.Ant. No sir, not I, I came from Siracuse

Duke. Stay, stand apart, I know not which is which

E.Ant. I came from Corinth my most gracious Lord   E.Dro. And I with
him

E.Ant. Brought to this Town by that most famous Warriour,

Duke Menaphon your most renowned Vnckle

Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to day?   S.Ant. I, gentle
Mistris

Adr. And are not you my husband?

E.Ant. No, I say nay to that

S.Ant. And so do I, yet did she call me so: And this faire
Gentlewoman her sister heere Did call me brother. What I told you then,
I hope I shall haue leisure to make good, If this be not a dreame I see
and heare

Goldsmith. That is the Chaine sir, which you had of mee

S.Ant. I thinke it be sir, I denie it not

E.Ant. And you sir for this Chaine arrested me

Gold. I thinke I did sir, I deny it not

Adr. I sent you monie sir to be your baile By Dromio, but I thinke
he brought it not

E.Dro. No, none by me

S.Ant. This purse of Duckets I receiu'd from you, And Dromio my man
did bring them me:

I see we still did meete each others man, And I was tane for him, and
he for me,

And thereupon these errors are arose

E.Ant. These Duckets pawne I for my father heere

Duke. It shall not neede, thy father hath his life

Cur. Sir I must haue that Diamond from you

E.Ant. There take it, and much thanks for my good cheere

Abb. Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the paines To go with vs into
the Abbey heere,

And heare at large discoursed all our fortunes, And all that are
assembled in this place: That by this simpathized one daies error

Haue suffer'd wrong. Goe, keepe vs companie, And we shall make full
satisfaction.

Thirtie three yeares haue I but gone in trauaile Of you my sonnes, and
till this present houre My heauie burthen are deliuered:

The Duke my husband, and my children both, And you the Kalenders of
their Natiuity,

Go to a Gossips feast, and go with mee,

After so long greefe such Natiuitie

Duke. With all my heart, Ile Gossip at this feast.

Exeunt. omnes. Manet the two Dromio's and two Brothers.

S.Dro. Mast[er]. shall I fetch your stuffe from shipbord?   E.An.
Dromio, what stuffe of mine hast thou imbarkt   S.Dro. Your goods that
lay at host sir in the Centaur

S.Ant. He speakes to me, I am your master Dromio. Come go with vs,
wee'l looke to that anon, Embrace thy brother there, reioyce with him.

Exit

S.Dro. There is a fat friend at your masters house, That kitchin'd me
for you to day at dinner: She now shall be my sister, not my wife,

E.D. Me thinks you are my glasse, & not my brother: I see by you, I
am a sweet-fac'd youth,

Will you walke in to see their gossipping?   S.Dro. Not I sir, you are
my elder

E.Dro. That's a question, how shall we trie it

S.Dro. Wee'l draw Cuts for the Signior, till then, lead thou first

E.Dro. Nay then thus:

We came into the world like brother and brother: And now let's go hand
in hand, not one before another.

Exeunt.

FINIS. The Comedie of Errors.



Much adoe about Nothing

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Enter Leonato Gouernour of Messina, Innogen his wife, Hero his
daughter,

and Beatrice his Neece, with a messenger.

Leonato. I learne in this Letter, that Don Peter of Arragon, comes
this night to Messina

Mess. He is very neere by this: he was not three Leagues off when I
left him

Leon. How many Gentlemen haue you lost in this action?

Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name

Leon. A victorie is twice it selfe, when the atchieuer brings home
full numbers: I finde heere, that Don Peter hath bestowed much honor on
a yong Florentine, called Claudio

Mess. Much deseru'd on his part, and equally remembred by Don Pedro,
he hath borne himselfe beyond the promise of his age, doing in the
figure of a Lambe, the feats of a Lion, he hath indeede better bettred
expectation, then you must expect of me to tell you how

Leo. He hath an Vnckle heere in Messina, wil be very much glad of
it

Mess. I haue alreadie deliuered him letters, and there appeares much
ioy in him, euen so much, that ioy could not shew it selfe modest
enough, without a badg of bitternesse

Leo. Did he breake out into teares?

Mess. In great measure

Leo. A kinde ouerflow of kindnesse, there are no faces truer, then
those that are so wash'd, how much better is it to weepe at ioy, then
to ioy at weeping?   Bea. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd
from the warres, or no?

Mess. I know none of that name, Lady, there was none such in the
armie of any sort

Leon. What is he that you aske for Neece?   Hero. My cousin meanes
Signior Benedick of Padua   Mess. O he's return'd, and as pleasant as
euer he was

Beat. He set vp his bils here in Messina, & challeng'd Cupid at the
Flight: and my Vnckles foole reading the Challenge, subscrib'd for
Cupid, and challeng'd him at the Burbolt. I pray you, how many hath hee
kil'd and eaten in these warres? But how many hath he kil'd? for
indeed, I promis'd to eate all of his killing

Leon. 'Faith Neece, you taxe Signior Benedicke too much, but hee'l
be meete with you, I doubt it not

Mess. He hath done good seruice Lady in these wars

Beat. You had musty victuall, and he hath holpe to ease it: he's a
very valiant Trencher-man, hee hath an excellent stomacke

Mess. And a good souldier too Lady

Beat. And a good souldier to a Lady. But what is he to a Lord?

Mess. A Lord to a Lord, a man to a man, stuft with all honourable
vertues

Beat. It is so indeed, he is no lesse then a stuft man: but for the
stuffing well, we are all mortall

Leon. You must not (sir) mistake my Neece, there is a kind of merry
war betwixt Signior Benedick, & her: they neuer meet, but there's a
skirmish of wit between them

Bea. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict, foure of
his fiue wits went halting off, and now is the whole man gouern'd with
one: so that if hee haue wit enough to keepe himselfe warme, let him
beare it for a difference betweene himselfe and his horse: For it is
all the wealth that he hath left, to be knowne a reasonable creature.
Who is his companion now? He hath euery month a new sworne brother

Mess. Is't possible?

Beat. Very easily possible: he weares his faith but as the fashion of
his hat, it euer changes with y next block

Mess. I see (Lady) the Gentleman is not in your bookes

Bea. No, and he were, I would burne my study. But I pray you, who is
his companion? Is there no young squarer now, that will make a voyage
with him to the diuell?

Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio

Beat. O Lord, he will hang vpon him like a disease: he is sooner
caught then the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God helpe
the noble Claudio, if hee haue caught the Benedict, it will cost him a
thousand pound ere he be cur'd

Mess. I will hold friends with you Lady

Bea. Do good friend

Leo. You'l ne're run mad Neece

Bea. No, not till a hot Ianuary

Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd.

Enter don Pedro, Claudio, Benedicke, Balthasar, and Iohn the bastard.

Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the
fashion of the world is to auoid cost, and you encounter it

Leon. Neuer came trouble to my house in the likenes of your Grace:
for trouble being gone, comfort should remaine: but when you depart
from me, sorrow abides, and happinesse takes his leaue

Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly: I thinke this is your
daughter

Leonato. Her mother hath many times told me so

Bened. Were you in doubt that you askt her?   Leonato. Signior
Benedicke, no, for then were you a childe

Pedro. You haue it full Benedicke, we may ghesse by this, what you
are, being a man, truely the Lady fathers her selfe: be happie Lady,
for you are like an honorable father

Ben. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not haue his head
on her shoulders for al Messina, as like him as she is

Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior Benedicke, no
body markes you

Ben. What my deere Ladie Disdaine! are you yet liuing?

Beat. Is it possible Disdaine should die, while shee hath such meete
foode to feede it, as Signior Benedicke? Curtesie it selfe must conuert
to Disdaine, if you come in her presence

Bene. Then is curtesie a turne-coate, but it is certaine I am loued
of all Ladies, onely you excepted: and I would I could finde in my
heart that I had not a hard heart, for truely I loue none

Beat. A deere happinesse to women, they would else haue beene
troubled with a pernitious Suter, I thanke God and my cold blood, I am
of your humour for that, I had rather heare my Dog barke at a Crow,
than a man sweare he loues me

Bene. God keepe your Ladiship still in that minde, so some Gentleman
or other shall scape a predestinate scratcht face

Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, and 'twere such a face as
yours were

Bene. Well, you are a rare Parrat teacher

Beat. A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast of your

Ben. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a
continuer, but keepe your way a Gods name, I haue done

Beat. You alwaies end with a Iades tricke, I know you of old

Pedro. This is the summe of all: Leonato, signior Claudio, and
signior Benedicke; my deere friend Leonato, hath inuited you all, I
tell him we shall stay here, at the least a moneth, and he heartily
praies some occasion may detaine vs longer: I dare sweare hee is no
hypocrite, but praies from his heart

Leon. If you sweare, my Lord, you shall not be forsworne, let mee
bid you welcome, my Lord, being reconciled to the Prince your brother:
I owe you all duetie

Iohn. I thanke you, I am not of many words, but I thanke you

Leon. Please it your grace leade on?

Pedro. Your hand Leonato, we will goe together.

Exeunt. Manet Benedicke and Claudio.

Clau. Benedicke, didst thou note the daughter of signior Leonato?

Bene. I noted her not, but I lookt on her

Claud. Is she not a modest yong Ladie?   Bene. Doe you question me
as an honest man should doe, for my simple true iudgement? or would you
haue me speake after my custome, as being a professed tyrant to their
sexe?

Clau. No, I pray thee speake in sober iudgement

Bene. Why yfaith me thinks shee's too low for a hie praise, too
browne for a faire praise, and too little for a great praise, onely
this commendation I can affoord her, that were shee other then she is,
she were vnhandsome, and being no other, but as she is, I doe not like
her

Clau. Thou think'st I am in sport, I pray thee tell me truely how
thou lik'st her

Bene. Would you buie her, that you enquier after her?

Clau. Can the world buie such a iewell?   Ben. Yea, and a case to put
it into, but speake you this with a sad brow? Or doe you play the
flowting iacke, to tell vs Cupid is a good Hare-finder, and Vulcan a
rare Carpenter: Come, in what key shall a man take you to goe in the
song?

Clau. In mine eie, she is the sweetest Ladie that euer I lookt on

Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter:
there's her cosin, and she were not possest with a furie, exceedes her
as much in beautie, as the first of Maie doth the last of December: but
I hope you haue no intent to turne husband, haue you?

Clau. I would scarce trust my selfe, though I had sworne the
contrarie, if Hero would be my wife

Bene. Ist come to this? in faith hath not the world one man but he
will weare his cap with suspition? shall I neuer see a batcheller of
three score againe? goe to yfaith, and thou wilt needes thrust thy
necke into a yoke, weare the print of it, and sigh away sundaies:
looke, don Pedro is returned to seeke you.

Enter don Pedro, Iohn the bastard.

Pedr. What secret hath held you here, that you followed not to
Leonatoes?

Bened. I would your Grace would constraine mee to tell

Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegeance

Ben. You heare, Count Claudio, I can be secret as a dumbe man, I
would haue you thinke so (but on my allegiance, marke you this, on my
allegiance) hee is in loue, With who? now that is your Graces part:
marke how short his answere is, with Hero, Leonatoes short daughter

Clau. If this were so, so were it vttred

Bened. Like the old tale, my Lord, it is not so, nor 'twas not so:
but indeede, God forbid it should be so

Clau. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be
otherwise

Pedro. Amen, if you loue her, for the Ladie is verie well worthie

Clau. You speake this to fetch me in, my Lord

Pedr. By my troth I speake my thought

Clau. And in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine

Bened. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord, I speake mine

Clau. That I loue her, I feele

Pedr. That she is worthie, I know

Bened. That I neither feele how shee should be loued, nor know how
shee should be worthie, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me,
I will die in it at the stake

Pedr. Thou wast euer an obstinate heretique in the despight of
Beautie

Clau. And neuer could maintaine his part, but in the force of his
will

Ben. That a woman conceiued me, I thanke her: that she brought mee
vp, I likewise giue her most humble thankes: but that I will haue a
rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an inuisible
baldricke, all women shall pardon me: because I will not do them the
wrong to mistrust any, I will doe my selfe the right to trust none: and
the fine is, (for the which I may goe the finer) I will liue a
Batchellor

Pedro. I shall see thee ere I die, looke pale with loue

Bene. With anger, with sicknesse, or with hunger, my Lord, not with
loue: proue that euer I loose more blood with loue, then I will get
againe with drinking, picke out mine eyes with a Ballet-makers penne,
and hang me vp at the doore of a brothel-house for the signe of blinde
Cupid

Pedro. Well, if euer thou doost fall from this faith, thou wilt
proue a notable argument

Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a Cat, & shoot at me, and he
that hit's me, let him be clapt on the shoulder, and cal'd Adam

Pedro. Well, as time shall trie: In time the sauage Bull doth beare
the yoake

Bene. The sauage bull may, but if euer the sensible Benedicke beare
it, plucke off the bulles hornes, and set them in my forehead, and let
me be vildely painted, and in such great Letters as they write, heere
is good horse to hire: let them signifie vnder my signe, here you may
see Benedicke the married man

Clau. If this should euer happen, thou wouldst bee horne mad

Pedro. Nay, if Cupid haue not spent all his Quiuer in Venice, thou
wilt quake for this shortly

Bene. I looke for an earthquake too then

Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the houres, in the meane time,
good Signior Benedicke, repaire to Leonatoes, commend me to him, and
tell him I will not faile him at supper, for indeede he hath made great
preparation

Bene. I haue almost matter enough in me for such an Embassage, and
so I commit you

Clau. To the tuition of God. From my house, if I had it

Pedro. The sixt of Iuly. Your louing friend, Benedick

Bene. Nay mocke not, mocke not; the body of your discourse is
sometime guarded with fragments, and the guardes are but slightly
basted on neither, ere you flout old ends any further, examine your
conscience, and so I leaue you.

Enter.

Clau. My Liege, your Highnesse now may doe mee good

Pedro. My loue is thine to teach, teach it but how, And thou shalt
see how apt it is to learne Any hard Lesson that may do thee good

Clau. Hath Leonato any sonne my Lord?

Pedro. No childe but Hero, she's his onely heire. Dost thou affect
her Claudio?

Clau. O my Lord,

When you went onward on this ended action, I look'd vpon her with a
souldiers eie,

That lik'd, but had a rougher taske in hand, Than to driue liking to
the name of loue: But now I am return'd, and that warre-thoughts Haue
left their places vacant: in their roomes, Come thronging soft and
delicate desires, All prompting mee how faire yong Hero is, Saying I
lik'd her ere I went to warres

Pedro. Thou wilt be like a louer presently, And tire the hearer with
a booke of words: If thou dost loue faire Hero, cherish it, And I will
breake with her: wast not to this end, That thou beganst to twist so
fine a story?   Clau. How sweetly doe you minister to loue, That know
loues griefe by his complexion! But lest my liking might too sodaine
seeme, I would haue salu'd it with a longer treatise

Ped. What need y bridge much broder then the flood? The fairest
graunt is the necessitie:

Looke what will serue, is fit: 'tis once, thou louest, And I will fit
thee with the remedie,

I know we shall haue reuelling to night,

I will assume thy part in some disguise,

And tell faire Hero I am Claudio,

And in her bosome Ile vnclaspe my heart,

And take her hearing prisoner with the force And strong incounter of my
amorous tale:

Then after, to her father will I breake,

And the conclusion is, shee shall be thine, In practise let vs put it
presently.

Exeunt.

Enter Leonato and an old man, brother to Leonato.

Leo. How now brother, where is my cosen your son: hath he prouided
this musicke?

Old. He is very busie about it, but brother, I can tell you newes
that you yet dreamt not of

Lo. Are they good?

Old. As the euents stamps them, but they haue a good couer: they shew
well outward, the Prince and Count Claudio walking in a thick pleached
alley in my orchard, were thus ouer-heard by a man of mine: the Prince
discouered to Claudio that hee loued my niece your daughter, and meant
to acknowledge it this night in a dance, and if hee found her
accordant, hee meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly
breake with you of it

Leo. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?   Old. A good
sharpe fellow, I will send for him, and question him your selfe

Leo. No, no; wee will hold it as a dreame, till it appeare it selfe:
but I will acquaint my daughter withall, that she may be the better
prepared for an answer, if peraduenture this bee true: goe you and tell
her of it: coosins, you know what you haue to doe, O I crie you mercie
friend, goe you with mee and I will vse your skill, good cosin haue a
care this busie time.

Exeunt.

Enter Sir Iohn the Bastard, and Conrade his companion.

Con. What the good yeere my Lord, why are you thus out of measure
sad?

Ioh. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds, therefore the
sadnesse is without limit

Con. You should heare reason

Iohn. And when I haue heard it, what blessing bringeth it?

Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance

Ioh. I wonder that thou (being as thou saist thou art, borne vnder
Saturne) goest about to apply a morall medicine, to a mortifying
mischiefe: I cannot hide what I am: I must bee sad when I haue cause,
and smile at no mans iests, eat when I haue stomacke, and wait for no
mans leisure: sleepe when I am drowsie, and tend on no mans businesse,
laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humor

Con. Yea, but you must not make the ful show of this, till you may
doe it without controllment, you haue of late stood out against your
brother, and hee hath tane you newly into his grace, where it is
impossible you should take root, but by the faire weather that you make
your selfe, it is needful that you frame the season for your owne
haruest

Iohn. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, then a rose in his grace,
and it better fits my bloud to be disdain'd of all, then to fashion a
carriage to rob loue from any: in this (though I cannot be said to be a
flattering honest man) it must not be denied but I am a plaine dealing
villaine, I am trusted with a mussell, and enfranchisde with a clog,
therefore I haue decreed, not to sing in my cage: if I had my mouth, I
would bite: if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the meane
time, let me be that I am, and seeke not to alter me

Con. Can you make no vse of your discontent?   Iohn. I will make all
vse of it, for I vse it onely. Who comes here? what newes Borachio?

Enter Borachio.

Bor. I came yonder from a great supper, the Prince your brother is
royally entertained by Leonato, and I can giue you intelligence of an
intended marriage

Iohn. Will it serue for any Modell to build mischiefe on? What is
hee for a foole that betrothes himselfe to vnquietnesse?

Bor. Mary it is your brothers right hand

Iohn. Who, the most exquisite Claudio?   Bor. Euen he

Iohn. A proper squier, and who, and who, which way lookes he?

Bor. Mary on Hero, the daughter and Heire of Leonato

Iohn. A very forward March-chicke, how came you to this:

Bor. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoaking a musty
roome, comes me the Prince and Claudio, hand in hand in sad conference:
I whipt behind the Arras, and there heard it agreed vpon, that the
Prince should wooe Hero for himselfe, and hauing obtain'd her, giue her
to Count Claudio

Iohn. Come, come, let vs thither, this may proue food to my
displeasure, that young start-vp hath all the glorie of my ouerthrow:
if I can crosse him any way, I blesse my selfe euery way, you are both
sure, and will assist mee?

Conr. To the death my Lord

Iohn. Let vs to the great supper, their cheere is the greater that I
am subdued, would the Cooke were of my minde: shall we goe proue whats
to be done?   Bor. Wee'll wait vpon your Lordship.

Exeunt.



Actus Secundus.

Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice
his

neece, and a kinsman.

Leonato. Was not Count Iohn here at supper?   Brother. I saw him not

Beatrice. How tartly that Gentleman lookes, I neuer can see him, but
I am heart-burn'd an howre after

Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition

Beatrice. Hee were an excellent man that were made iust in the
mid-way betweene him and Benedicke, the one is too like an image and
saies nothing, and the other too like my Ladies eldest sonne, euermore
tatling

Leon. Then halfe signior Benedicks tongue in Count Iohns mouth, and
halfe Count Iohns melancholy in Signior Benedicks face

Beat. With a good legge, and a good foot vnckle, and money enough in
his purse, such a man would winne any woman in the world, if he could
get her good will

Leon. By my troth Neece, thou wilt neuer get thee a husband, if thou
be so shrewd of thy tongue

Brother. Infaith shee's too curst

Beat. Too curst is more then curst, I shall lessen Gods sending that
way: for it is said, God sends a curst Cow short hornes, but to a Cow
too curst he sends none

Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no hornes

Beat. Iust, if he send me no husband, for the which blessing, I am
at him vpon my knees euery morning and euening: Lord, I could not
endure a husband with a beard on his face, I had rather lie in the
woollen

Leonato. You may light vpon a husband that hath no beard

Beatrice. What should I doe with him? dresse him in my apparell, and
make him my waiting gentlewoman? he that hath a beard, is more then a
youth: and he that hath no beard, is lesse then a man: and hee that is
more then a youth, is not for mee: and he that is lesse then a man, I
am not for him: therefore I will euen take sixepence in earnest of the
Berrord, and leade his Apes into hell

Leon. Well then, goe you into hell

Beat. No, but to the gate, and there will the Deuill meete mee like
an old Cuckold with hornes on his head, and say, get you to heauen
Beatrice, get you to heauen, heere's no place for you maids, so deliuer
I vp my Apes, and away to S[aint]. Peter: for the heauens, hee shewes
mee where the Batchellers sit, and there liue wee as merry as the day
is long

Brother. Well neece, I trust you will be rul'd by your father

Beatrice. Yes faith, it is my cosens dutie to make curtsie, and say,
as it please you: but yet for all that cosin, let him be a handsome
fellow, or else make an other cursie, and say, father, as it please me

Leonato. Well neece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a
husband

Beatrice. Not till God make men of some other mettall then earth,
would it not grieue a woman to be ouermastred with a peece of valiant
dust: to make account of her life to a clod of waiward marle? no
vnckle, ile none: Adams sonnes are my brethren, and truly I hold it a
sinne to match in my kinred

Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you, if the Prince doe solicit
you in that kinde, you know your answere

Beatrice. The fault will be in the musicke cosin, if you be not woed
in good time: if the Prince bee too important, tell him there is
measure in euery thing, & so dance out the answere, for heare me Hero,
wooing, wedding, & repenting, is as a Scotch jigge, a measure, and a
cinquepace: the first suite is hot and hasty like a Scotch jigge (and
full as fantasticall) the wedding manerly modest, (as a measure) full
of state & aunchentry, and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs
falls into the cinquepace faster and faster, till he sinkes into his
graue

Leonato. Cosin you apprehend passing shrewdly

Beatrice. I haue a good eye vnckle, I can see a Church by daylight

Leon. The reuellers are entring brother, make good roome.

Enter Prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedicke, and Balthasar, or dumbe
Iohn,

Maskers with a drum.

Pedro. Lady, will you walke about with your friend?   Hero. So you
walke softly, and looke sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the
walke, and especially when I walke away

Pedro. With me in your company

Hero. I may say so when I please

Pedro. And when please you to say so?

Hero. When I like your fauour, for God defend the Lute should be like
the case

Pedro. My visor is Philemons roofe, within the house is Loue

Hero. Why then your visor should be thatcht

Pedro. Speake low if you speake Loue

Bene. Well, I would you did like me

Mar. So would not I for your owne sake, for I haue manie ill
qualities

Bene. Which is one?

Mar. I say my prayers alowd

Ben. I loue you the better, the hearers may cry Amen

Mar. God match me with a good dauncer

Balt. Amen

Mar. And God keepe him out of my sight when the daunce is done:
answer Clarke

Balt. No more words, the Clarke is answered

Vrsula. I know you well enough, you are Signior Anthonio

Anth. At a word, I am not

Vrsula. I know you by the wagling of your head

Anth. To tell you true, I counterfet him

Vrsu. You could neuer doe him so ill well, vnlesse you were the very
man: here's his dry hand vp & down, you are he, you are he

Anth. At a word I am not

Vrsula. Come, come, doe you thinke I doe not know you by your
excellent wit? can vertue hide it selfe? goe to mumme, you are he,
graces will appeare, and there's an end

Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so?   Bene. No, you shall
pardon me

Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are?   Bened. Not now

Beat. That I was disdainfull, and that I had my good wit out of the
hundred merry tales: well, this was Signior Benedicke that said so

Bene. What's he?

Beat. I am sure you know him well enough

Bene. Not I, beleeue me

Beat. Did he neuer make you laugh?

Bene. I pray you what is he?

Beat. Why he is the Princes ieaster, a very dull foole, onely his
gift is, in deuising impossible slanders, none but Libertines delight
in him, and the commendation is not in his witte, but in his villanie,
for hee both pleaseth men and angers them, and then they laugh at him,
and beat him: I am sure he is in the Fleet, I would he had boorded me

Bene. When I know the Gentleman, Ile tell him what you say

Beat. Do, do, hee'l but breake a comparison or two on me, which
peraduenture (not markt, or not laugh'd at) strikes him into
melancholly, and then there's a Partridge wing saued, for the foole
will eate no supper that night. We must follow the Leaders

Ben. In euery good thing

Bea. Nay, if they leade to any ill, I will leaue them at the next
turning.

Exeunt.

Musicke for the dance.

Iohn. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawne her
father to breake with him about it: the Ladies follow her, and but one
visor remaines

Borachio. And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing

Iohn. Are not you signior Benedicke?

Clau. You know me well, I am hee

Iohn. Signior, you are verie neere my Brother in his loue, he is
enamor'd on Hero, I pray you disswade him from her, she is no equall
for his birth: you may do the part of an honest man in it

Claudio. How know you he loues her?

Iohn. I heard him sweare his affection

Bor. So did I too, and he swore he would marrie her to night

Iohn. Come, let vs to the banquet.

Ex. manet Clau.

Clau. Thus answere I in name of Benedicke, But heare these ill newes
with the eares of Claudio: 'Tis certaine so, the Prince woes for
himselfe: Friendship is constant in all other things, Saue in the
Office and affaires of loue:

Therefore all hearts in loue vse their owne tongues. Let euerie eye
negotiate for it selfe,

And trust no Agent: for beautie is a witch, Against whose charmes,
faith melteth into blood: This is an accident of hourely proofe,

Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore Hero. Enter Benedicke.

Ben. Count Claudio

Clau. Yea, the same

Ben. Come, will you goe with me?

Clau. Whither?

Ben. Euen to the next Willow, about your own businesse, Count. What
fashion will you weare the Garland off? About your necke, like an
Vsurers chaine? Or vnder your arme, like a Lieutenants scarfe? You must
weare it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero

Clau . I wish him ioy of her

Ben. Why that's spoken like an honest Drouier, so they sel
Bullockes: but did you thinke the Prince wold haue serued you thus?

Clau. I pray you leaue me

Ben. Ho now you strike like the blindman, 'twas the boy that stole
your meate, and you'l beat the post

Clau. If it will not be, Ile leaue you. Enter.

Ben. Alas poore hurt fowle, now will he creepe into sedges: But that
my Ladie Beatrice should know me, & not know me: the Princes foole!
Hah? It may be I goe vnder that title, because I am merrie: yea but so
I am apt to do my selfe wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the base
(though bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that putt's the world into her
person, and so giues me out: well, Ile be reuenged as I may.

Enter the Prince.

Pedro. Now Signior, where's the Count, did you see him?

Bene. Troth my Lord, I haue played the part of Lady Fame, I found him
heere as melancholy as a Lodge in a Warren, I told him, and I thinke,
told him true, that your grace had got the will of this young Lady, and
I offered him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a
garland, as being forsaken, or to binde him a rod, as being worthy to
be whipt

Pedro. To be whipt, what's his fault?

Bene. The flat transgression of a Schoole-boy, who being ouer-ioyed
with finding a birds nest, shewes it his companion, and he steales it

Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the transgression is
in the stealer

Ben. Yet it had not been amisse the rod had beene made, and the
garland too, for the garland he might haue worne himselfe, and the rod
hee might haue bestowed on you, who (as I take it) haue stolne his
birds nest

Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner

Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith you say
honestly

Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrell to you, the Gentleman that
daunst with her, told her shee is much wrong'd by you

Bene. O she misusde me past the indurance of a block: an oake but
with one greene leafe on it, would haue answered her: my very visor
began to assume life, and scold with her: shee told mee, not thinking I
had beene my selfe, that I was the Princes Iester, and that I was
duller then a great thaw, hudling iest vpon iest, with such impossible
conueiance vpon me, that I stood like a man at a marke, with a whole
army shooting at me: shee speakes poynyards, and euery word stabbes: if
her breath were as terrible as terminations, there were no liuing neere
her, she would infect to the north starre: I would not marry her,
though she were indowed with all that Adam had left him before he
transgrest, she would haue made   Hercules haue turnd spit, yea, and
haue cleft his club to make the fire too: come, talke not of her, you
shall finde her the infernall Ate in good apparell. I would to God some
scholler would coniure her, for certainely while she is heere, a man
may liue as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary, and people sinne vpon
purpose, because they would goe thither, so indeed all disquiet,
horror, and perturbation followes her.

Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero.

Pedro. Looke heere she comes

Bene. Will your Grace command mee any seruice to the worlds end? I
will goe on the slightest arrand now to the Antypodes that you can
deuise to send me on: I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the
furthest inch of Asia: bring you the length of Prester Iohns foot:
fetch you a hayre off the great Chams beard: doe you any embassage to
the Pigmies, rather then hould three words conference, with this Harpy:
you haue no employment for me?

Pedro. None, but to desire your good company

Bene. O God sir, heeres a dish I loue not, I cannot indure this Lady
tongue.

Enter.

Pedr. Come Lady, come, you haue lost the heart of Signior Benedicke

Beatr. Indeed my Lord, hee lent it me a while, and I gaue him vse
for it, a double heart for a single one, marry once before he wonne it
of mee, with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say I haue lost
it

Pedro. You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put him downe

Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I should prooue
the mother of fooles: I haue brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to
seeke

Pedro. Why how now Count, wherfore are you sad?   Claud. Not sad my
Lord

Pedro. How then? sicke?

Claud. Neither, my Lord

Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor sicke, nor merry, nor well: but
ciuill Count, ciuill as an Orange, and something of a iealous
complexion

Pedro. Ifaith Lady, I thinke your blazon to be true. though Ile be
sworne, if hee be so, his conceit is false: heere Claudio, I haue wooed
in thy name, and faire Hero is won, I haue broke with her father, and
his good will obtained, name the day of marriage, and God giue thee
ioy

Leona. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his
grace hath made the match, & all grace say, Amen to it

Beatr. Speake Count, tis your Qu

Claud. Silence is the perfectest Herault of ioy, I were but little
happy if I could say, how much? Lady, as you are mine, I am yours, I
giue away my selfe for you, and doat vpon the exchange

Beat. Speake cosin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kisse,
and let not him speake neither

Pedro. In faith Lady you haue a merry heart

Beatr. Yea my Lord I thanke it, poore foole it keepes on the windy
side of Care, my coosin tells him in his eare that he is in my heart

Clau. And so she doth coosin

Beat. Good Lord for alliance: thus goes euery one to the world but
I, and I am sun-burn'd, I may sit in a corner and cry, heigh ho for a
husband

Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one

Beat. I would rather haue one of your fathers getting: hath your
Grace ne're a brother like you? your father got excellent husbands, if
a maid could come by them

Prince. Will you haue me? Lady

Beat. No, my Lord, vnlesse I might haue another for working-daies,
your Grace is too costly to weare euerie day: but I beseech your Grace
pardon mee, I was borne to speake all mirth, and no matter

Prince. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry, best becomes
you, for out of question, you were born in a merry howre

Beatr. No sure my Lord, my Mother cried, but then there was a starre
daunst, and vnder that was I borne: cosins God giue you ioy

Leonato. Neece, will you looke to those things I told you of?

Beat. I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon.

Exit Beatrice.

Prince. By my troth a pleasant spirited Lady

Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her my Lord, she
is neuer sad, but when she sleepes, and not euer sad then: for I haue
heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamt of vnhappinesse, and wakt
her selfe with laughing

Pedro. Shee cannot indure to heare tell of a husband

Leonato. O, by no meanes, she mocks all her wooers out of suite

Prince. She were an excellent wife for Benedick

Leonato. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a weeke married, they
would talke themselues madde

Prince. Counte Claudio, when meane you to goe to Church?

Clau. To morrow my Lord, Time goes on crutches, till Loue haue all
his rites

Leonato. Not till monday, my deare sonne, which is hence a iust
seuen night, and a time too briefe too, to haue all things answer
minde

Prince. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing, but I
warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not goe dully by vs, I will in the
interim, vndertake one of Hercules labors, which is, to bring Signior
Benedicke and the Lady Beatrice into a mountaine of affection, th' one
with th' other, I would faine haue it a match, and I doubt not but to
fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall
giue you direction

Leonato. My Lord, I am for you, though it cost mee ten nights
watchings

Claud. And I my Lord

Prin. And you to gentle Hero?

Hero. I will doe any modest office, my Lord, to helpe my cosin to a
good husband

Prin. And Benedick is not the vnhopefullest husband that I know:
thus farre can I praise him, hee is of a noble straine, of approued
valour, and confirm'd honesty, I will teach you how to humour your
cosin, that shee shall fall in loue with Benedicke, and I, with your
two helpes, will so practise on Benedicke, that in despight of his
quicke wit, and his queasie stomacke, hee shall fall in loue with
Beatrice: if wee can doe this, Cupid is no longer an Archer, his glory
shall be ours, for wee are the onely louegods, goe in with me, and I
will tell you my drift. Enter.

Enter Iohn and Borachio.

Ioh. It is so, the Count Claudio shal marry the daughter of Leonato

Bora. Yea my Lord, but I can crosse it

Iohn. Any barre, any crosse, any impediment, will be medicinable to
me, I am sicke in displeasure to him, and whatsoeuer comes athwart his
affection, ranges euenly with mine, how canst thou crosse this
marriage?   Bor. Not honestly my Lord, but so couertly, that no
dishonesty shall appeare in me

Iohn. Shew me breefely how

Bor. I thinke I told your Lordship a yeere since, how much I am in
the fauour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero

Iohn. I remember

Bor. I can at any vnseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to
looke out at her Ladies chamber window

Iohn. What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?   Bor.
The poyson of that lies in you to temper, goe you to the Prince your
brother, spare not to tell him, that hee hath wronged his Honor in
marrying the renowned Claudio, whose estimation do you mightily hold
vp, to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero

Iohn. What proofe shall I make of that?   Bor. Proofe enough, to
misuse the Prince, to vexe Claudio, to vndoe Hero, and kill Leonato,
looke you for any other issue?

Iohn. Onely to despight them, I will endeauour any thing

Bor. Goe then, finde me a meete howre, to draw on Pedro and the
Count Claudio alone, tell them that you know that Hero loues me, intend
a kinde of zeale both to the Prince and Claudio (as in a loue of your
brothers honor who hath made this match) and his friends reputation,
who is thus like to be cosen'd with the semblance of a maid, that you
haue discouer'd thus: they will scarcely beleeue this without triall:
offer them instances which shall beare no lesse likelihood, than to see
mee at her chamber window, heare me call Margaret, Hero; heare Margaret
terme me Claudio, and bring them to see this the very night before the
intended wedding, for in the meane time, I will so fashion the matter,
that Hero shall be absent, and there shall appeare such seeming truths
of Heroes disloyaltie, that iealousie shall be cal'd assurance, and all
the preparation ouerthrowne

Iohn. Grow this to what aduerse issue it can, I will put it in
practise: be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand
ducates

Bor. Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not
shame me

Iohn. I will presentlie goe learne their day of marriage. Enter.

Enter Benedicke alone.

Bene. Boy

Boy. Signior

Bene. In my chamber window lies a booke, bring it hither to me in
the orchard

Boy. I am heere already sir.

Enter.

Bene. I know that, but I would haue thee hence, and heere againe. I
doe much wonder, that one man seeing how much another man is a foole,
when he dedicates his behauiours to loue, will after hee hath laught at
such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his owne scorne,
by falling in loue, & such a man is Claudio. I haue known when there
was no musicke with him but the drum and the fife, and now had hee
rather heare the taber and the pipe: I haue knowne when he would haue
walkt ten mile afoot, to see a good armor, and now will he lie ten
nights awake caruing the fashion of a new dublet: he was wont to speake
plaine, & to the purpose (like an honest man & a souldier) and now is
he turn'd orthography, his words are a very fantasticall banquet, iust
so many strange dishes: may I be so conuerted, & see with these eyes? I
cannot tell, I thinke not: I will not bee sworne, but loue may
transforme me to an oyster, but Ile take my oath on it, till he haue
made an oyster of me, he shall neuer make me such a foole: one woman is
faire, yet I am well: another is wise, yet I am well: another vertuous,
yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not
come in my grace: rich shee shall be, that's certaine: wise, or Ile
none: vertuous, or Ile neuer cheapen her: faire, or Ile neuer looke on
her: milde, or come not neere me: Noble, or not for an Angell: of good
discourse: an excellent Musitian, and her haire shal be of what colour
it please God, hah! the Prince and Monsieur Loue, I will hide me in the
Arbor. Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Iacke Wilson.

Prin. Come, shall we heare this musicke?   Claud. Yea my good Lord:
how still the euening is. As husht on purpose to grace harmonie

Prin. See you where Benedicke hath hid himselfe?   Clau. O very well
my Lord: the musicke ended, Wee'll fit the kid-foxe with a penny worth

Prince. Come Balthasar, wee'll heare that song again

Balth. O good my Lord, taxe not so bad a voyce, To slander musicke
any more then once

Prin. It is the witnesse still of excellency, To slander Musicke any
more then once

Prince. It is the witnesse still of excellencie, To put a strange
face on his owne perfection, I pray thee sing, and let me woe no more

Balth. Because you talke of wooing, I will sing, Since many a wooer
doth commence his suit, To her he thinkes not worthy, yet he wooes, Yet
will he sweare he loues

Prince. Nay pray thee come,

Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,

Doe it in notes

Balth. Note this before my notes,

Theres not a note of mine that's worth the noting

Prince. Why these are very crotchets that he speaks, Note notes
forsooth, and nothing

Bene. Now diuine aire, now is his soule rauisht, is it not strange
that sheepes guts should hale soules out of mens bodies? well, a horne
for my money when all's done.

The Song.

Sigh no more Ladies, sigh no more,

Men were deceiuers euer,

One foote in Sea, and one on shore,

To one thing constant neuer,

Then sigh not so, but let them goe,

And be you blithe and bonnie,

Conuerting all your sounds of woe,

Into hey nony nony.

Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,

Of dumps so dull and heauy,

The fraud of men were euer so,

Since summer first was leauy,

Then sigh not so, &c

Prince. By my troth a good song

Balth. And an ill singer, my Lord

Prince. Ha, no, no faith, thou singst well enough for a shift

Ben. And he had been a dog that should haue howld thus, they would
haue hang'd him, and I pray God his bad voyce bode no mischiefe, I had
as liefe haue heard the night-rauen, come what plague could haue come
after it

Prince. Yea marry, dost thou heare Balthasar? I pray thee get vs
some excellent musick: for to morrow night we would haue it at the Lady
Heroes chamber window

Balth. The best I can, my Lord.

Exit Balthasar.

Prince. Do so, farewell. Come hither Leonato, what was it you told me
of to day, that your Niece Beatrice was in loue with signior
Benedicke?

Cla. O I, stalke on, stalke on, the foule sits. I did neuer thinke
that Lady would haue loued any man

Leon. No, nor I neither, but most wonderful, that she should so dote
on Signior Benedicke, whom shee hath in all outward behauiours seemed
euer to abhorre

Bene. Is't possible? sits the winde in that corner?   Leo. By my
troth my Lord, I cannot tell what to thinke of it, but that she loues
him with an inraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought

Prince. May be she doth but counterfeit

Claud. Faith like enough

Leon. O God! counterfeit? there was neuer counterfeit of passion,
came so neere the life of passion as she discouers it

Prince. Why what effects of passion shewes she?   Claud. Baite the
hooke well, this fish will bite

Leon. What effects my Lord? shee will sit you, you heard my daughter
tell you how

Clau. She did indeed

Prince. How, how I pray you? you amaze me, I would haue thought her
spirit had beene inuincible against all assaults of affection

Leo. I would haue sworne it had, my Lord, especially against
Benedicke

Bene. I should thinke this a gull, but that the whitebearded fellow
speakes it: knauery cannot sure hide himselfe in such reuerence

Claud. He hath tane th' infection, hold it vp

Prince. Hath shee made her affection known to Benedicke:   Leonato.
No, and sweares she neuer will, that's her torment

Claud. 'Tis true indeed, so your daughter saies: shall I, saies she,
that haue so oft encountred him with scorne, write to him that I loue
him?

Leo. This saies shee now when shee is beginning to write to him, for
shee'll be vp twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her
smocke, till she haue writ a sheet of paper: my daughter tells vs all

Clau. Now you talke of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty iest
your daughter told vs of

Leon. O when she had writ it, & was reading it ouer, she found
Benedicke and Beatrice betweene the sheete

Clau. That

Leon. O she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence, raild at her
self, that she should be so immodest to write, to one that shee knew
would flout her: I measure him, saies she, by my owne spirit, for I
should flout him if hee writ to mee, yea though I loue him, I should

Clau. Then downe vpon her knees she falls, weepes, sobs, beates her
heart, teares her hayre, praies, curses, O sweet Benedicke, God giue me
patience

Leon. She doth indeed, my daughter saies so, and the extasie hath so
much ouerborne her, that my daughter is somtime afeard she will doe a
desperate out-rage to her selfe, it is very true

Prince. It were good that Benedicke knew of it by some other, if she
will not discouer it

Clau. To what end? he would but make a sport of it, and torment the
poore Lady worse

Prin. And he should, it were an almes to hang him, shee's an
excellent sweet Lady, and (out of all suspition,) she is vertuous

Claudio. And she is exceeding wise

Prince. In euery thing, but in louing Benedicke

Leon. O my Lord, wisedome and bloud combating in so tender a body,
we haue ten proofes to one, that bloud hath the victory, I am sorry for
her, as I haue iust cause, being her Vncle, and her Guardian

Prince. I would shee had bestowed this dotage on mee, I would haue
daft all other respects, and made her halfe my selfe: I pray you tell
Benedicke of it, and heare what he will say

Leon. Were it good thinke you?

Clau. Hero thinkes surely she wil die, for she saies she will die, if
hee loue her not, and shee will die ere shee make her loue knowne, and
she will die if hee wooe her, rather than shee will bate one breath of
her accustomed crossenesse

Prince. She doth well, if she should make tender of her loue, 'tis
very possible hee'l scorne it, for the man (as you know all) hath a
contemptible spirit

Clau. He is a very proper man

Prin. He hath indeed a good outward happines

Clau. 'Fore God, and in my minde very wise

Prin. He doth indeed shew some sparkes that are like wit

Leon. And I take him to be valiant

Prin. As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing of quarrels you
may see hee is wise, for either hee auoydes them with great discretion,
or vndertakes them with a Christian-like feare

Leon. If hee doe feare God, a must necessarilie keepe peace, if hee
breake the peace, hee ought to enter into a quarrell with feare and
trembling

Prin. And so will he doe, for the man doth fear God, howsoeuer it
seemes not in him, by some large ieasts hee will make: well, I am sorry
for your niece, shall we goe see Benedicke, and tell him of her loue

Claud. Neuer tell him, my Lord, let her weare it out with good
counsell

Leon. Nay that's impossible, she may weare her heart out first

Prin. Well, we will heare further of it by your daughter, let it
coole the while, I loue Benedicke well, and I could wish he would
modestly examine himselfe, to see how much he is vnworthy to haue so
good a Lady

Leon. My Lord, will you walke? dinner is ready

Clau. If he do not doat on her vpon this, I wil neuer trust my
expectation

Prin. Let there be the same Net spread for her, and that must your
daughter and her gentlewoman carry: the sport will be, when they hold
one an opinion of anothers dotage, and no such matter, that's the Scene
that I would see, which will be meerely a dumbe shew: let vs send her
to call him into dinner.

Exeunt.

Bene. This can be no tricke, the conference was sadly borne, they
haue the truth of this from Hero, they seeme to pittie the Lady: it
seemes her affections haue the full bent: loue me? why it must be
requited: I heare how I am censur'd, they say I will beare my selfe
proudly, if I perceiue the loue come from her: they say too, that she
will rather die than giue any signe of affection: I did neuer thinke to
marry, I must not seeme proud, happy are they that heare their
detractions, and can put them to mending: they say the Lady is faire,
'tis a truth, I can beare them witnesse: and vertuous, tis so, I cannot
reprooue it, and wise, but for louing me, by my troth it is no addition
to her witte, nor no great argument of her folly; for I wil be horribly
in loue with her, I may chance haue some odde quirkes and remnants of
witte broken on mee, because I haue rail'd so long against marriage:
but doth not the appetite alter? a man loues the meat in his youth,
that he cannot indure in his age. Shall quips and sentences, and these
paper bullets of the braine awe a man from the careere of his humour?
No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a batcheler, I
did not think I should liue till I were maried, here comes Beatrice: by
this day, shee's a faire Lady, I doe spie some markes of loue in her.

Enter Beatrice.

Beat. Against my wil I am sent to bid you come in to dinner

Bene. Faire Beatrice, I thanke you for your paines

Beat. I tooke no more paines for those thankes, then you take paines
to thanke me, if it had been painefull, I would not haue come

Bene. You take pleasure then in the message

Beat. Yea iust so much as you may take vpon a kniues point, and
choake a daw withall: you haue no stomacke signior, fare you well.

Enter.

Bene. Ha, against my will I am sent to bid you come into dinner:
there's a double meaning in that: I tooke no more paines for those
thankes then you took paines to thanke me, that's as much as to say,
any paines that I take for you is as easie as thankes: if I do not take
pitty of her I am a villaine, if I doe not loue her I am a Iew, I will
goe get her picture.

Enter.



Actus Tertius.

Enter Hero and two Gentlemen, Margaret, and Vrsula.

Hero. Good Margaret runne thee to the parlour, There shalt thou finde
my Cosin Beatrice, Proposing with the Prince and Claudio,

Whisper her eare, and tell her I and Vrsula, Walke in the Orchard, and
our whole discourse Is all of her, say that thou ouer-heardst vs, And
bid her steale into the pleached bower, Where hony-suckles ripened by
the sunne,

Forbid the sunne to enter: like fauourites, Made proud by Princes, that
aduance their pride, Against that power that bred it, there will she
hide her, To listen our purpose, this is thy office, Beare thee well in
it, and leaue vs alone

Marg. Ile make her come I warrant you presently

Hero. Now Vrsula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley
vp and downe,

Our talke must onely be of Benedicke,

When I doe name him, let it be thy part,

To praise him more then euer man did merit, My talke to thee must be
how Benedicke

Is sicke in loue with Beatrice; of this matter, Is little Cupids crafty
arrow made,

That onely wounds by heare-say: now begin, Enter Beatrice.

For looke where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs Close by the ground, to
heare our conference

Vrs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden
ores the siluer streame, And greedily deuoure the treacherous baite: So
angle we for Beatrice, who euen now,

Is couched in the wood-bine couerture,

Feare you not my part of the Dialogue

Her. Then go we neare her that her eare loose nothing, Of the false
sweete baite that we lay for it: No truely Vrsula, she is too
disdainfull, I know her spirits are as coy and wilde,

As Haggerds of the rocke

Vrsula. But are you sure,

That Benedicke loues Beatrice so intirely?   Her. So saies the Prince,
and my new trothed Lord

Vrs. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam?   Her. They did
intreate me to acquaint her of it, But I perswaded them, if they lou'd
Benedicke, To wish him wrastle with affection,

And neuer to let Beatrice know of it

Vrsula. Why did you so, doth not the Gentleman Deserue as full as
fortunate a bed,

As euer Beatrice shall couch vpon?

Hero. O God of loue! I know he doth deserue, As much as may be
yeelded to a man:

But Nature neuer fram'd a womans heart,

Of prowder stuffe then that of Beatrice:

Disdaine and Scorne ride sparkling in her eyes, Mis-prizing what they
looke on, and her wit Values it selfe so highly, that to her

All matter else seemes weake: she cannot loue, Nor take no shape nor
proiect of affection, Shee is so selfe indeared

Vrsula. Sure I thinke so,

And therefore certainely it were not good She knew his loue, lest she
make sport at it

Hero. Why you speake truth, I neuer yet saw man, How wise, how
noble, yong, how rarely featur'd. But she would spell him backward: if
faire fac'd, She would sweare the gentleman should be her sister: If
blacke, why Nature drawing of an anticke, Made a foule blot: if tall, a
launce ill headed: If low, an agot very vildlie cut:

If speaking, why a vane blowne with all windes: If silent, why a blocke
moued with none.

So turnes she euery man the wrong side out, And neuer giues to Truth
and Vertue, that Which simplenesse and merit purchaseth

Vrsu. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable

Hero. No, not to be so odde, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is,
cannot be commendable,

But who dare tell her so? if I should speake, She would mocke me into
ayre, O she would laugh me Out of my selfe, presse me to death with
wit, Therefore let Benedicke like couered fire, Consume away in sighes,
waste inwardly:

It were a better death, to die with mockes, Which is as bad as die with
tickling

Vrsu. Yet tell her of it, heare what shee will say

Hero. No, rather I will goe to Benedicke, And counsaile him to fight
against his passion, And truly Ile deuise some honest slanders, To
staine my cosin with, one doth not know, How much an ill word may
impoison liking

Vrsu. O doe not doe your cosin such a wrong, She cannot be so much
without true iudgement, Hauing so swift and excellent a wit

As she is prisde to haue, as to refuse

So rare a Gentleman as signior Benedicke

Hero. He is the onely man of Italy,

Alwaies excepted, my deare Claudio

Vrsu. I pray you be not angry with me, Madame, Speaking my fancy:
Signior Benedicke,

For shape, for bearing argument and valour, Goes formost in report
through Italy

Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name

Vrsu. His excellence did earne it ere he had it: When are you
married Madame?

Hero. Why euerie day to morrow, come goe in, Ile shew thee some
attires, and haue thy counsell, Which is the best to furnish me to
morrow

Vrsu. Shee's tane I warrant you,

We haue caught her Madame?

Hero. If it proue so, then louing goes by haps, Some Cupid kills with
arrowes, some with traps. Enter.

Beat. What fire is in mine eares? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd
for pride and scorne so much? Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride,
adew, No glory liues behinde the backe of such. And Benedicke, loue on,
I will requite thee, Taming my wilde heart to thy louing hand: If thou
dost loue, my kindnesse shall incite thee To binde our loues vp in a
holy band.

For others say thou dost deserue, and I

Beleeue it better then reportingly.

Enter.

Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedicke, and Leonato.

Prince. I doe but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go
I toward Arragon

Clau. Ile bring you thither my Lord, if you'l vouchsafe me

Prin. Nay, that would be as great a soyle in the new glosse of your
marriage, as to shew a childe his new coat and forbid him to weare it,
I will onely bee bold with Benedicke for his companie, for from the
crowne of his head, to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth, he hath
twice or thrice cut Cupids bow-string, and the little hang-man dare not
shoot at him, he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the
clapper, for what his heart thinkes, his tongue speakes

Bene. Gallants, I am not as I haue bin

Leo. So say I, methinkes you are sadder

Claud. I hope he be in loue

Prin. Hang him truant, there's no true drop of bloud in him to be
truly toucht with loue, if he be sad, he wants money

Bene. I haue the tooth-ach

Prin. Draw it

Bene. Hang it

Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards

Prin. What? sigh for the tooth-ach

Leon. Where is but a humour or a worme

Bene. Well, euery one cannot master a griefe, but hee that has it

Clau. Yet say I, he is in loue

Prin. There is no appearance of fancie in him, vnlesse it be a fancy
that he hath to strange disguises, as to bee a Dutchman to day, a
Frenchman to morrow: vnlesse hee haue a fancy to this foolery, as it
appeares hee hath, hee is no foole for fancy, as you would haue it to
appeare he is

Clau. If he be not in loue with some woman, there is no beleeuing
old signes, a brushes his hat a mornings, What should that bode?

Prin. Hath any man seene him at the Barbers?   Clau. No, but the
Barbers man hath beene seen with him, and the olde ornament of his
cheeke hath alreadie stuft tennis balls

Leon. Indeed he lookes yonger than hee did, by the losse of a beard

Prin. Nay a rubs himselfe with Ciuit, can you smell him out by
that?

Clau. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in loue

Prin. The greatest note of it is his melancholy

Clau. And when was he wont to wash his face?   Prin. Yea, or to
paint himselfe? for the which I heare what they say of him

Clau. Nay, but his iesting spirit, which is now crept into a
lute-string, and now gouern'd by stops

Prin. Indeed that tels a heauy tale for him: conclude, he is in
loue

Clau. Nay, but I know who loues him

Prince. That would I know too, I warrant one that knowes him not

Cla. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all, dies for
him

Prin. Shee shall be buried with her face vpwards

Bene. Yet is this no charme for the tooth-ake, old signior, walke
aside with mee, I haue studied eight or nine wise words to speake to
you, which these hobby-horses must not heare

Prin. For my life to breake with him about Beatrice

Clau. 'Tis euen so, Hero and Margaret haue by this played their
parts with Beatrice, and then the two Beares will not bite one another
when they meete. Enter Iohn the Bastard.

Bast. My Lord and brother, God saue you

Prin. Good den brother

Bast. If your leisure seru'd, I would speake with you

Prince. In priuate?

Bast. If it please you, yet Count Claudio may heare, for what I would
speake of, concernes him

Prin. What's the matter?

Basta. Meanes your Lordship to be married to morrow?   Prin. You know
he does

Bast. I know not that when he knowes what I know

Clau. If there be any impediment, I pray you discouer it

Bast. You may thinke I loue you not, let that appeare hereafter, and
ayme better at me by that I now will manifest, for my brother (I
thinke, he holds you well, and in dearenesse of heart) hath holpe to
effect your ensuing marriage: surely sute ill spent, and labour ill
bestowed

Prin. Why, what's the matter?

Bastard. I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shortned, (for
she hath beene too long a talking of) the Lady is disloyall

Clau. Who Hero?

Bast. Euen shee, Leonatoes Hero, your Hero, euery mans Hero

Clau. Disloyall?

Bast. The word is too good to paint out her wickednesse, I could say
she were worse, thinke you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it:
wonder not till further warrant: goe but with mee to night, you shal
see her chamber window entred, euen the night before her wedding day,
if you loue her, then to morrow wed her: But it would better fit your
honour to change your minde

Claud. May this be so?

Princ. I will not thinke it

Bast. If you dare not trust that you see, confesse not that you
know: if you will follow mee, I will shew you enough, and when you haue
seene more, & heard more, proceed accordingly

Clau. If I see any thing to night, why I should not marry her to
morrow in the congregation, where I shold wedde, there will I shame
her

Prin. And as I wooed for thee to obtaine her, I will ioyne with thee
to disgrace her

Bast. I will disparage her no farther, till you are my witnesses,
beare it coldly but till night, and let the issue shew it selfe

Prin. O day vntowardly turned!

Claud. O mischiefe strangelie thwarting!   Bastard. O plague right
well preuented! so will you say, when you haue seene the sequele.

Enter.

Enter Dogbery and his compartner with the watch.

Dog. Are you good men and true?

Verg. Yea, or else it were pitty but they should suffer saluation
body and soule

Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should
haue any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Princes watch

Verges. Well, giue them their charge, neighbour Dogbery

Dog. First, who thinke you the most desartlesse man to be Constable

Watch.1. Hugh Ote-cake sir, or George Sea-coale, for they can write
and reade

Dogb. Come hither neighbour Sea-coale, God hath blest you with a
good name: to be a wel-fauoured man, is the gift of Fortune, but to
write and reade, comes by Nature

Watch 2. Both which Master Constable

Dogb. You haue: I knew it would be your answere: well, for your
fauour sir, why giue God thankes, & make no boast of it, and for your
writing and reading, let that appeare when there is no need of such
vanity, you are thought heere to be the most senslesse and fit man for
the Constable of the watch: therefore beare you the lanthorne: this is
your charge: You shall comprehend all vagrom men, you are to bid any
man stand in the Princes name

Watch 2. How if a will not stand?

Dogb. Why then take no note of him, but let him go, and presently
call the rest of the Watch together, and thanke God you are ridde of a
knaue

Verges. If he will not stand when he is bidden, hee is none of the
Princes subiects

Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but the Princes
subiects: you shall also make no noise in the streetes: for, for the
Watch to babble and talke, is most tollerable, and not to be indured

Watch. We will rather sleepe than talke, wee know what belongs to a
Watch

Dog. Why you speake like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I
cannot see how sleeping should offend: only haue a care that your bills
be not stolne: well, you are to call at all the Alehouses, and bid them
that are drunke get them to bed

Watch. How if they will not?

Dogb. Why then let them alone till they are sober, if they make you
not then the better answere, you may say, they are not the men you
tooke them for

Watch. Well sir,

Dogb. If you meet a theefe, you may suspect him, by vertue of your
office, to be no true man: and for such kinde of men, the lesse you
meddle or make with them, why the more is for your honesty

Watch. If wee know him to be a thiefe, shall wee not lay hands on
him

Dogb. Truly by your office you may, but I think they that touch
pitch will be defil'd: the most peaceable way for you, if you doe take
a theefe, is, to let him shew himselfe what he is, and steale out of
your company

Ver. You haue bin alwaies cal'd a merciful ma[n] partner

Dog. Truely I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who
hath anie honestie in him

Verges. If you heare a child crie in the night you must call to the
nurse, and bid her still it

Watch. How if the nurse be asleepe and will not heare vs?

Dog. Why then depart in peace, and let the childe wake her with
crying, for the ewe that will not heare her Lambe when it baes, will
neuer answere a calfe when he bleates

Verges. 'Tis verie true

Dog. This is the end of the charge: you constable are to present the
Princes owne person, if you meete the Prince in the night, you may
staie him

Verges. Nay birladie that I thinke a cannot

Dog. Fiue shillings to one on't with anie man that knowes the
Statutes, he may staie him, marrie not without the prince be willing,
for indeed the watch ought to offend no man, and it is an offence to
stay a man against his will

Verges. Birladie I thinke it be so

Dog. Ha, ah ha, well masters good night, and there be anie matter of
weight chances, call vp me, keepe your fellowes counsailes, and your
owne, and good night, come neighbour

Watch. Well masters, we heare our charge, let vs go sit here vpon
the Church bench till two, and then all to bed

Dog. One word more, honest neighbors. I pray you watch about signior
Leonatoes doore, for the wedding being there to morrow, there is a
great coyle to night, adiew, be vigitant I beseech you.

Exeunt.

Enter Borachio and Conrade.

Bor. What, Conrade?

Watch. Peace, stir not

Bor. Conrade I say

Con. Here man, I am at thy elbow

Bor. Mas and my elbow itcht, I thought there would a scabbe follow

Con. I will owe thee an answere for that, and now forward with thy
tale

Bor. Stand thee close then vnder this penthouse, for it drissels
raine, and I will, like a true drunkard, vtter all to thee

Watch. Some treason masters, yet stand close

Bor. Therefore know, I haue earned of Don Iohn a thousand Ducates

Con. Is it possible that anie villanie should be so deare?   Bor.
Thou should'st rather aske if it were possible anie villanie should be
so rich? for when rich villains haue neede of poore ones, poore ones
may make what price they will

Con. I wonder at it

Bor. That shewes thou art vnconfirm'd, thou knowest that the fashion
of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloake, is nothing to a man

Con. Yes, it is apparell

Bor. I meane the fashion

Con. Yes the fashion is the fashion

Bor. Tush, I may as well say the foole's the foole, but seest thou
not what a deformed theefe this fashion is?   Watch. I know that
deformed, a has bin a vile theefe, this vii. yeares, a goes vp and
downe like a gentle man: I remember his name

Bor. Did'st thou not heare some bodie?   Con. No, 'twas the vaine on
the house

Bor. Seest thou not (I say) what a deformed thiefe this fashion is,
how giddily a turnes about all the Hotblouds, betweene, foureteene &
fiue & thirtie, sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoes souldiours in
the rechie painting, sometime like god Bels priests in the old Church
window, sometime like the shauen Hercules in the smircht worm-eaten
tapestrie, where his cod-peece seemes as massie as his club

Con. All this I see, and see that the fashion weares out more
apparrell then the man; but art not thou thy selfe giddie with the
fashion too that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of
the fashion?

Bor. Not so neither, but know that I haue to night wooed Margaret the
Lady Heroes gentle-woman, by the name of Hero, she leanes me out at her
mistris chamberwindow, bids me a thousand times good night: I tell this
tale vildly. I should first tell thee how the Prince Claudio and my
Master planted, and placed, and possessed by my Master Don Iohn, saw a
far off in the Orchard this amiable incounter

Con. And thought thy Margaret was Hero?   Bor. Two of them did, the
Prince and Claudio, but the diuell my Master knew she was Margaret and
partly by his oathes, which first possest them, partly by the darke
night which did deceiue them, but chiefely, by my villanie, which did
confirme any slander that Don Iohn had made, away went Claudio enraged,
swore hee would meete her as he was apointed next morning at the
Temple, and there, before the whole congregation shame her with what he
saw o're night, and send her home againe without a husband

Watch.1. We charge you in the Princes name stand

Watch.2. Call vp the right master Constable, we haue here recouered
the most dangerous peece of lechery, that euer was knowne in the
Common-wealth

Watch.1. And one Deformed is one of them, I know him, a weares a
locke

Conr. Masters, masters

Watch.2. Youle be made bring deformed forth I warrant you,

Conr. Masters, neuer speake, we charge you, let vs obey you to goe
with vs

Bor. We are like to proue a goodly commoditie, being taken vp of
these mens bils

Conr. A commoditie in question I warrant you, come weele obey you.

Exeunt.

Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Vrsula.

Hero. Good Vrsula wake my cosin Beatrice, and desire her to rise

Vrsu. I will Lady

Her. And bid her come hither

Vrs. Well

Mar. Troth I thinke your other rebato were better

Hero. No pray thee good Meg, Ile weare this

Marg. By my troth's not so good, and I warrant your cosin will say
so

Hero. My cosin's a foole, and thou art another, ile weare none but
this

Mar. I like the new tire within excellently, if the haire were a
thought browner: and your gown's a most rare fashion yfaith, I saw the
Dutchesse of Millaines gowne that they praise so

Hero. O that exceedes they say

Mar. By my troth's but a night-gowne in respect of yours, cloth a
gold and cuts, and lac'd with siluer, set with pearles, downe sleeues,
side sleeues, and skirts, round vnderborn with a blewish tinsel, but
for a fine queint gracefull and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten
on't

Hero. God giue mee ioy to weare it, for my heart is exceeding heauy

Marga. 'Twill be heauier soone, by the waight of a man

Hero. Fie vpon thee, art not asham'd?

Marg. Of what Lady? of speaking honourably? is not marriage
honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord honourable without marriage? I
thinke you would haue me say, sauing your reuerence a husband: and bad
thinking doe not wrest true speaking, Ile offend no body, is there any
harme in the heauier for a husband? none I thinke, and it be the right
husband, and the right wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heauy, aske
my Lady Beatrice else, here she comes.

Enter Beatrice.

Hero. Good morrow Coze

Beat. Good morrow sweet Hero

Hero. Why how now? do you speake in the sick tune?   Beat. I am out
of all other tune, me thinkes

Mar. Claps into Light a loue, (that goes without a burden,) do you
sing it and Ile dance it

Beat. Ye Light aloue with your heeles, then if your husband haue
stables enough, you'll looke he shall lacke no barnes

Mar. O illegitimate construction! I scorne that with my heeles

Beat. 'Tis almost fiue a clocke cosin, 'tis time you were ready, by
my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho

Mar. For a hauke, a horse, or a husband?   Beat. For the letter that
begins them all, H

Mar. Well, and you be not turn'd Turke, there's no more sayling by
the starre

Beat. What meanes the foole trow?

Mar. Nothing I, but God send euery one their harts desire

Hero. These gloues the Count sent mee, they are an excellent
perfume

Beat. I am stuft cosin, I cannot smell

Mar. A maid and stuft! there's goodly catching of colde

Beat. O God helpe me, God help me, how long haue you profest
apprehension?

Mar. Euer since you left it, doth not my wit become me rarely?

Beat. It is not seene enough, you should weare it in your cap, by my
troth I am sicke

Mar. Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus and lay it to
your heart, it is the onely thing for a qualm

Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thissell

Beat. Benedictus, why benedictus? you haue some morall in this
benedictus

Mar. Morall? no by my troth, I haue no morall meaning, I meant
plaine holy thissell, you may thinke perchance that I thinke you are in
loue, nay birlady I am not such a foole to thinke what I list, nor I
list not to thinke what I can, nor indeed, I cannot thinke, if I would
thinke my hart out of thinking, that you are in loue, or that you will
be in loue, or that you can be in loue: yet Benedicke was such another,
and now is he become a man, he swore hee would neuer marry, and yet now
in despight of his heart he eates his meat without grudging, and how
you may be conuerted I know not, but me thinkes you looke with your
eies as other women doe

Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keepes

Mar. Not a false gallop.

Enter Vrsula.

Vrsula. Madam, withdraw, the Prince, the Count, signior Benedicke,
Don Iohn, and all the gallants of the towne are come to fetch you to
Church

Hero. Helpe me to dresse mee good coze, good Meg, good Vrsula.

Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough.

Leonato. What would you with mee, honest neighbour?   Const.Dog. Mary
sir I would haue some confidence with you, that decernes you nearely

Leon. Briefe I pray you, for you see it is a busie time with me

Const.Dog. Mary this it is sir

Headb. Yes in truth it is sir

Leon. What is it my good friends?

Con.Do. Goodman Verges sir speakes a little of the matter, an old man
sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as God helpe I would desire they
were, but infaith honest as the skin betweene his browes

Head. Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man liuing, that is an
old man, and no honester then I

Con.Dog. Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour Verges

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious

Con.Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poore
Dukes officers, but truely for mine owne part, if I were as tedious as
a King I could finde in my heart to bestow it all of your worship

Leon. All thy tediousnesse on me, ah?

Const.Dog. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than 'tis, for I
heare as good exclamation on your Worship as of any man in the Citie,
and though I bee but a poore man, I am glad to heare it

Head. And so am I

Leon. I would faine know what you haue to say

Head. Marry sir our watch to night, excepting your worships
presence, haue tane a couple of as arrant knaues as any in Messina

Con.Dog. A good old man sir, hee will be talking as they say, when
the age is in, the wit is out, God helpe vs, it is a world to see: well
said yfaith neighbour Verges, well, God's a good man, and two men ride
of a horse, one must ride behinde, an honest soule yfaith sir, by my
troth he is, as euer broke bread, but God is to bee worshipt, all men
are not alike, alas good neighbour

Leon. Indeed neighbour he comes too short of you

Con.Do. Gifts that God giues

Leon. I must leaue you

Con.Dog. One word sir, our watch sir haue indeede comprehended two
aspitious persons, & we would haue them this morning examined before
your worship

Leon. Take their examination your selfe, and bring it me, I am now
in great haste, as may appeare vnto you

Const. It shall be suffigance

Leon. Drinke some wine ere you goe: fare you well. Enter.

Messenger. My Lord, they stay for you to giue your daughter to her
husband

Leon. Ile wait vpon them, I am ready

Dogb. Goe good partner, goe get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him
bring his pen and inkehorne to the Gaole: we are now to examine those
men

Verges. And we must doe it wisely

Dogb. Wee will spare for no witte I warrant you: heere's that shall
driue some to a non-come, only get the learned writer to set downe our
excommunication, and meet me at the Iaile.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus.

Enter Prince, Bastard, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Benedicke, Hero, and

Beatrice.

Leonato. Come Frier Francis, be briefe, onely to the plaine forme of
marriage, and you shal recount their particular duties afterwards

Fran. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady

Clau. No

Leo. To be married to her: Frier, you come to marrie her

Frier. Lady, you come hither to be married to this Count

Hero. I doe

Frier. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should
not be conioyned, I charge you on your soules to vtter it

Claud. Know you anie, Hero?

Hero. None my Lord

Frier. Know you anie, Count?

Leon. I dare make his answer, None

Clau. O what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do!

Bene. How now! interiections? why then, some be of laughing, as ha,
ha, he

Clau. Stand thee by Frier, father, by your leaue, Will you with free
and vnconstrained soule Giue me this maid your daughter?

Leon. As freely sonne as God did giue her me

Cla. And what haue I to giue you back, whose worth May counterpoise
this rich and precious gift?   Prin. Nothing, vnlesse you render her
againe

Clau. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulnes: There Leonato,
take her backe againe,

Giue not this rotten Orenge to your friend, Shee's but the signe and
semblance of her honour: Behold how like a maid she blushes heere! O
what authoritie and shew of truth

Can cunning sinne couer it selfe withall! Comes not that bloud, as
modest euidence, To witnesse simple Vertue? would you not sweare All
you that see her, that she were a maide, By these exterior shewes? But
she is none: She knowes the heat of a luxurious bed:

Her blush is guiltinesse, not modestie

Leonato. What doe you meane, my Lord?

Clau. Not to be married,

Not to knit my soule to an approued wanton

Leon. Deere my Lord, if you in your owne proofe, Haue vanquisht the
resistance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginitie

Clau. I know what you would say: if I haue knowne (her,

You will say, she did imbrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the
forehand sinne: No Leonato, I neuer tempted her with word too large,

But as a brother to his sister, shewed

Bashfull sinceritie and comely loue

Hero. And seem'd I euer otherwise to you?   Clau. Out on thee
seeming, I will write against it, You seeme to me as Diane in her
Orbe,

As chaste as is the budde ere it be blowne: But you are more
intemperate in your blood, Than Venus, or those pampred animalls,

That rage in sauage sensualitie

Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth speake so wide?   Leon. Sweete
Prince, why speake not you?   Prin. What should I speake?

I stand dishonour'd that haue gone about, To linke my deare friend to a
common stale

Leon. Are these things spoken, or doe I but dreame?   Bast. Sir,
they are spoken, and these things are true

Bene. This lookes not like a nuptiall

Hero. True, O God!

Clau. Leonato, stand I here?

Is this the Prince? is this the Princes brother? Is this face Heroes?
are our eies our owne?   Leon. All this is so, but what of this my
Lord?   Clau. Let me but moue one question to your daughter, And by
that fatherly and kindly power,

That you haue in her, bid her answer truly

Leo. I charge thee doe, as thou art my childe

Hero. O God defend me how am I beset,

What kinde of catechizing call you this?

Clau. To make you answer truly to your name

Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any iust
reproach?

Claud. Marry that can Hero,

Hero it selfe can blot out Heroes vertue. What man was he, talkt with
you yesternight, Out at your window betwixt twelue and one? Now if you
are a maid, answer to this

Hero. I talkt with no man at that howre my Lord

Prince. Why then you are no maiden. Leonato, I am sorry you must
heare: vpon mine honor, My selfe, my brother, and this grieued Count
Did see her, heare her, at that howre last night, Talke with a ruffian
at her chamber window, Who hath indeed most like a liberall villaine,
Confest the vile encounters they haue had A thousand times in secret

Iohn. Fie, fie, they are not to be named my Lord, Not to be spoken
of,

There is not chastitie enough in language, Without offence to vtter
them: thus pretty Lady I am sorry for thy much misgouernment

Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou beene If halfe thy outward
graces had beene placed About thy thoughts and counsailes of thy heart?
But fare thee well, most foule, most faire, farewell Thou pure impiety,
and impious puritie,

For thee Ile locke vp all the gates of Loue, And on my eie-lids shall
Coniecture hang, To turne all beauty into thoughts of harme, And neuer
shall it more be gracious

Leon. Hath no mans dagger here a point for me?   Beat. Why how now
cosin, wherfore sink you down?   Bast. Come, let vs go: these things
come thus to light, Smother her spirits vp

Bene. How doth the Lady?

Beat. Dead I thinke, helpe vncle,

Hero, why Hero, Vncle, Signor Benedicke, Frier

Leonato. O Fate! take not away thy heauy hand, Death is the fairest
couer for her shame

That may be wisht for

Beatr. How now cosin Hero?

Fri. Haue comfort Ladie

Leon. Dost thou looke vp?

Frier. Yea, wherefore should she not?

Leon. Wherfore? Why doth not euery earthly thing Cry shame vpon her?
Could she heere denie The storie that is printed in her blood?

Do not liue Hero, do not ope thine eyes:

For did I thinke thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I thy spirits
were stronger then thy shames, My selfe would on the reward of
reproaches Strike at thy life. Grieu'd I, I had but one? Chid I, for
that at frugal Natures frame? O one too much by thee: why had I one?

Why euer was't thou louelie in my eies?

Why had I not with charitable hand

Tooke vp a beggars issue at my gates,

Who smeered thus, and mir'd with infamie, I might haue said, no part of
it is mine: This shame deriues it selfe from vnknowne loines, But mine,
and mine I lou'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine that I was proud on mine
so much, That I my selfe, was to my selfe not mine: Valewing of her,
why she, O she is falne

Into a pit of Inke, that the wide sea

Hath drops too few to wash her cleane againe, And salt too little,
which may season giue To her foule tainted flesh

Ben. Sir, sir, be patient: for my part, I am so attired in wonder, I
know not what to say

Bea. O on my soule my cosin is belied

Ben. Ladie, were you her bedfellow last night?   Bea. No, truly: not
although vntill last night, I haue this tweluemonth bin her bedfellow

Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd, O that is stronger made Which was before
barr'd vp with ribs of iron. Would the Princes lie, and Claudio lie,

Who lou'd her so, that speaking of her foulnesse, Wash'd it with
teares? Hence from her, let her die

Fri. Heare me a little, for I haue onely bene silent so long, and
giuen way vnto this course of fortune, by noting of the Ladie, I haue
markt.

A thousand blushing apparitions,

To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames, In Angel whitenesse
beare away those blushes, And in her eie there hath appear'd a fire To
burne the errors that these Princes hold Against her maiden truth. Call
me a foole, Trust not my reading, nor my obseruations, Which with
experimental seale doth warrant The tenure of my booke: trust not my
age, My reuerence, calling, nor diuinitie,

If this sweet Ladie lye not guiltlesse heere, Vnder some biting error

Leo. Friar, it cannot be:

Thou seest that all the Grace that she hath left, Is, that she wil not
adde to her damnation, A sinne of periury, she not denies it:

Why seek'st thou then to couer with excuse, That which appeares in
proper nakednesse?   Fri. Ladie, what man is he you are accus'd of?
Hero. They know that do accuse me, I know none: If I know more of any
man aliue

Then that which maiden modestie doth warrant, Let all my sinnes lacke
mercy. O my Father, Proue you that any man with me conuerst,

At houres vnmeete, or that I yesternight

Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me,
torture me to death

Fri. There is some strange misprision in the Princes

Ben. Two of them haue the verie bent of honor, And if their
wisedomes be misled in this: The practise of it liues in Iohn the
bastard, Whose spirits toile in frame of villanies

Leo. I know not: if they speake but truth of her, These hands shall
teare her: If they wrong her honour, The proudest of them shall wel
heare of it. Time hath not yet so dried this bloud of mine, Nor age so
eate vp my inuention,

Nor Fortune made such hauocke of my meanes, Nor my bad life reft me so
much of friends, But they shall finde, awak'd in such a kinde, Both
strength of limbe, and policie of minde, Ability in meanes, and choise
of friends, To quit me of them throughly

Fri. Pause awhile:

And let my counsell sway you in this case, Your daughter heere the
Princesse (left for dead) Let her awhile be secretly kept in,

And publish it, that she is dead indeed:

Maintaine a mourning ostentation,

And on your Families old monument,

Hang mournfull Epitaphes, and do all rites, That appertaine vnto a
buriall

Leon. What shall become of this? What wil this do?   Fri. Marry this
wel carried, shall on her behalfe, Change slander to remorse, that is
some good, But not for that dreame I on this strange course, But on
this trauaile looke for greater birth: She dying, as it must be so
maintain'd,

Vpon the instant that she was accus'd,

Shal be lamented, pittied, and excus'd

Of euery hearer: for it so fals out,

That what we haue, we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enioy it; but
being lack'd and lost, Why then we racke the value, then we finde The
vertue that possession would not shew vs Whiles it was ours, so will it
fare with Claudio: When he shal heare she dyed vpon his words, Th' Idea
of her life shal sweetly creepe

Into his study of imagination.

And euery louely Organ of her life,

Shall come apparel'd in more precious habite: More mouing delicate, and
ful of life,

Into the eye and prospect of his soule

Then when she liu'd indeed: then shal he mourne, If euer Loue had
interest in his Liuer,

And wish he had not so accused her:

No, though he thought his accusation true: Let this be so, and doubt
not but successe Wil fashion the euent in better shape,

Then I can lay it downe in likelihood.

But if all ayme but this be leuelld false, The supposition of the
Ladies death,

Will quench the wonder of her infamie.

And if it sort not well, you may conceale her As best befits her
wounded reputation,

In some reclusiue and religious life,

Out of all eyes, tongues, mindes and iniuries

Bene. Signior Leonato, let the Frier aduise you, And though you know
my inwardnesse and loue Is very much vnto the Prince and Claudio. Yet,
by mine honor, I will deale in this, As secretly and iustlie, as your
soule

Should with your bodie

Leon. Being that I flow in greefe,

The smallest twine may lead me

Frier. 'Tis well consented, presently away, For to strange sores,
strangely they straine the cure, Come Lady, die to liue, this wedding
day

Perhaps is but prolong'd, haue patience & endure. Enter.

Bene. Lady Beatrice, haue you wept all this while?   Beat. Yea, and I
will weepe a while longer

Bene. I will not desire that

Beat. You haue no reason, I doe it freely

Bene. Surelie I do beleeue your fair cosin is wrong'd

Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserue of mee that would right
her!

Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship?   Beat. A verie euen
way, but no such friend

Bene. May a man doe it?

Beat. It is a mans office, but not yours

Bene. I doe loue nothing in the world so well as you, is not that
strange?

Beat. As strange as the thing I know not, it were as possible for me
to say, I loued nothing so well as you, but beleeue me not, and yet I
lie not, I confesse nothing, nor I deny nothing, I am sorry for my
cousin

Bene. By my sword Beatrice thou lou'st me

Beat. Doe not sweare by it and eat it

Bene. I will sweare by it that you loue mee, and I will make him eat
it that sayes I loue not you

Beat. Will you not eat your word?

Bene. With no sawce that can be deuised to it, I protest I loue thee

Beat. Why then God forgiue me

Bene. What offence sweet Beatrice?

Beat. You haue stayed me in a happy howre, I was about to protest I
loued you

Bene. And doe it with all thy heart

Beat. I loue you with so much of my heart, that none is left to
protest

Bened. Come, bid me doe any thing for thee

Beat. Kill Claudio

Bene. Ha, not for the wide world

Beat. You kill me to denie, farewell

Bene. Tarrie sweet Beatrice

Beat. I am gone, though I am heere, there is no loue in you, nay I
pray you let me goe

Bene. Beatrice

Beat. Infaith I will goe

Bene. Wee'll be friends first

Beat. You dare easier be friends with mee, than fight with mine
enemy

Bene. Is Claudio thine enemie?

Beat. Is a not approued in the height a villaine, that hath
slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man!
what, beare her in hand vntill they come to take hands, and then with
publike accusation vncouered slander, vnmittigated rancour? O God that
I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place

Bene. Heare me Beatrice

Beat. Talke with a man out at a window, a proper saying

Bene. Nay but Beatrice

Beat. Sweet Hero, she is wrong'd, shee is slandered, she is vndone

Bene. Beat?

Beat. Princes and Counties! surelie a Princely testimonie, a goodly
Count, Comfect, a sweet Gallant surelie, O that I were a man for his
sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood
is melted into cursies, valour into complement, and men are onelie
turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as
Hercules, that only tells a lie, and sweares it: I cannot be a man with
wishing, therfore I will die a woman with grieuing

Bene. Tarry good Beatrice, by this hand I loue thee

Beat. Vse it for my loue some other way then swearing by it

Bened. Thinke you in your soule the Count Claudio hath wrong'd
Hero?

Beat. Yea, as sure as I haue a thought, or a soule

Bene. Enough, I am engagde, I will challenge him, I will kisse your
hand, and so leaue you: by this hand Claudio shall render me a deere
account: as you heare of me, so thinke of me: goe comfort your coosin,
I must say she is dead, and so farewell.

Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne Clerke in gownes.

Keeper. Is our whole dissembly appeard?   Cowley. O a stoole and a
cushion for the Sexton

Sexton. Which be the malefactors?

Andrew. Marry that am I, and my partner

Cowley. Nay that's certaine, wee haue the exhibition to examine

Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examined, let
them come before master Constable

Kemp. Yea marry, let them come before mee, what is your name,
friend?

Bor. Borachio

Kem. Pray write downe Borachio. Yours sirra

Con. I am a Gentleman sir, and my name is Conrade

Kee. Write downe Master gentleman Conrade: maisters, doe you serue
God: maisters, it is proued alreadie that you are little better than
false knaues, and it will goe neere to be thought so shortly, how
answer you for your selues?

Con. Marry sir, we say we are none

Kemp. A maruellous witty fellow I assure you, but I will goe about
with him: come you hither sirra, a word in your eare sir, I say to you,
it is thought you are false knaues

Bor. Sir, I say to you, we are none

Kemp. Well, stand aside, 'fore God they are both in a tale: haue you
writ downe that they are none?   Sext. Master Constable, you goe not
the way to examine, you must call forth the watch that are their
accusers

Kemp. Yea marry, that's the eftest way, let the watch come forth:
masters, I charge you in the Princes name, accuse these men

Watch 1. This man said sir, that Don Iohn the Princes brother was a
villaine

Kemp. Write down, Prince Iohn a villaine: why this is flat periurie,
to call a Princes brother villaine

Bora. Master Constable

Kemp. Pray thee fellow peace, I do not like thy looke I promise
thee

Sexton. What heard you him say else?

Watch 2. Mary that he had receiued a thousand Dukates of Don Iohn,
for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully

Kemp. Flat Burglarie as euer was committed

Const. Yea by th' masse that it is

Sexton. What else fellow?

Watch 1. And that Count Claudio did meane vpon his words, to disgrace
Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her

Kemp. O villaine! thou wilt be condemn'd into euerlasting redemption
for this

Sexton. What else?

Watch. This is all

Sexton. And this is more masters then you can deny, Prince Iohn is
this morning secretly stolne away: Hero was in this manner accus'd, in
this very manner refus'd, and vpon the griefe of this sodainely died:
Master Constable, let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato, I
will goe before, and shew him their examination

Const. Come, let them be opinion'd

Sex. Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe

Kem. Gods my life, where's the Sexton? let him write downe the
Princes Officer Coxcombe: come, binde them thou naughty varlet

Couley. Away, you are an asse, you are an asse

Kemp. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not suspect my
yeeres? O that hee were heere to write mee downe an asse! but masters,
remember that I am an asse: though it be not written down, yet forget
not y I am an asse: No thou villaine, y art full of piety as shall be
prou'd vpon thee by good witnesse, I am a wise fellow, and which is
more, an officer, and which is more, a houshoulder, and which is more,
as pretty a peece of flesh as any in Messina, and one that knowes the
Law, goe to, & a rich fellow enough, goe to, and a fellow that hath had
losses, and one that hath two gownes, and euery thing handsome about
him: bring him away: O that I had been writ downe an asse!

Enter.



Actus Quintus.

Enter Leonato and his brother.

Brother. If you goe on thus, you will kill your selfe, And 'tis not
wisedome thus to second griefe, Against your selfe

Leon. I pray thee cease thy counsaile, Which falls into mine eares
as profitlesse, As water in a siue: giue not me counsaile, Nor let no
comfort delight mine eare,

But such a one whose wrongs doth sute with mine. Bring me a father that
so lou'd his childe, Whose ioy of her is ouer-whelmed like mine, And
bid him speake of patience,

Measure his woe the length and bredth of mine, And let it answere euery
straine for straine, As thus for thus, and such a griefe for such, In
euery lineament, branch, shape, and forme: If such a one will smile and
stroke his beard, And sorrow, wagge, crie hem, when he should grone,
Patch griefe with prouerbs, make misfortune drunke, With
candle-wasters: bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather
patience:

But there is no such man, for brother, men Can counsaile, and speake
comfort to that griefe, Which they themselues not feele, but tasting
it, Their counsaile turnes to passion, which before, Would giue
preceptiall medicine to rage,

Fetter strong madnesse in a silken thred, Charme ache with ayre, and
agony with words, No, no, 'tis all mens office, to speake patience To
those that wring vnder the load of sorrow: But no mans vertue nor
sufficiencie

To be so morall, when he shall endure

The like himselfe: therefore giue me no counsaile, My griefs cry lowder
then aduertisement

Broth. Therein do men from children nothing differ

Leonato. I pray thee peace, I will be flesh and bloud, For there was
neuer yet Philosopher,

That could endure the tooth-ake patiently, How euer they haue writ the
stile of gods, And made a push at chance and sufferance

Brother. Yet bend not all the harme vpon your selfe, Make those that
doe offend you, suffer too

Leon. There thou speak'st reason, nay I will doe so, My soule doth
tell me, Hero is belied,

And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince, And all of them that
thus dishonour her.

Enter Prince and Claudio.

Brot. Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily

Prin. Good den, good den

Clau. Good day to both of you

Leon. Heare you my Lords?

Prin. We haue some haste Leonato

Leo. Some haste my Lord! wel, fareyouwel my Lord, Are you so hasty
now? well, all is one

Prin. Nay, do not quarrel with vs, good old man

Brot. If he could rite himselfe with quarrelling, Some of vs would
lie low

Claud. Who wrongs him?

Leon. Marry y dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou: Nay, neuer lay
thy hand vpon thy sword,

I feare thee not

Claud. Marry beshrew my hand,

If it should giue your age such cause of feare, Infaith my hand meant
nothing to my sword

Leonato. Tush, tush, man, neuer fleere and iest at me, I speake not
like a dotard, nor a foole,

As vnder priuiledge of age to bragge,

What I haue done being yong, or what would doe, Were I not old, know
Claudio to thy head, Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent childe and me,
That I am forc'd to lay my reuerence by,

And with grey haires and bruise of many daies, Doe challenge thee to
triall of a man,

I say thou hast belied mine innocent childe. Thy slander hath gone
through and through her heart, And she lies buried with her ancestors:

O in a tombe where neuer scandall slept,

Saue this of hers, fram'd by thy villanie

Claud. My villany?

Leonato. Thine Claudio, thine I say

Prin. You say not right old man

Leon. My Lord, my Lord,

Ile proue it on his body if he dare,

Despight his nice fence, and his actiue practise, His Maie of youth,
and bloome of lustihood

Claud. Away, I will not haue to do with you

Leo. Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kild my child, If thou kilst
me, boy, thou shalt kill a man

Bro. He shall kill two of vs, and men indeed, But that's no matter,
let him kill one first: Win me and weare me, let him answere me,

Come follow me boy, come sir boy, come follow me Sir boy, ile whip you
from your foyning fence, Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will

Leon. Brother

Brot. Content your self, God knows I lou'd my neece, And she is
dead, slander'd to death by villaines, That dare as well answer a man
indeede,

As I dare take a serpent by the tongue.

Boyes, apes, braggarts, Iackes, milke-sops

Leon. Brother Anthony

Brot. Hold you content, what man? I know them, yea And what they
weigh, euen to the vtmost scruple, Scambling, out-facing,
fashion-monging boyes, That lye, and cog, and flout, depraue, and
slander, Goe antiquely, and show outward hidiousnesse, And speake of
halfe a dozen dang'rous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if
they durst. And this is all

Leon. But brother Anthonie

Ant. Come, 'tis no matter,

Do not you meddle, let me deale in this

Pri. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience My heart is
sorry for your daughters death: But on my honour she was charg'd with
nothing But what was true, and very full of proofe

Leon. My Lord, my Lord

Prin. I will not heare you.

Enter Benedicke.

Leo. No come brother, away, I will be heard.

Exeunt. ambo.

Bro. And shall, or some of vs will smart for it

Prin. See, see, here comes the man we went to seeke

Clau. Now signior, what newes?

Ben. Good day my Lord

Prin. Welcome signior, you are almost come to part almost a fray

Clau. Wee had likt to haue had our two noses snapt off with two old
men without teeth

Prin. Leonato and his brother, what think'st thou? had wee fought, I
doubt we should haue beene too yong for them

Ben. In a false quarrell there is no true valour, I came to seeke
you both

Clau. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke thee, for we are high
proofe melancholly, and would faine haue it beaten away, wilt thou vse
thy wit?

Ben. It is in my scabberd, shall I draw it?   Prin. Doest thou weare
thy wit by thy side?   Clau. Neuer any did so, though verie many haue
been beside their wit, I will bid thee drawe, as we do the minstrels,
draw to pleasure vs

Prin. As I am an honest man he lookes pale, art thou sicke, or
angrie?

Clau. What, courage man: what though care kil'd a cat, thou hast
mettle enough in thee to kill care

Ben. Sir, I shall meete your wit in the careere, and you charge it
against me, I pray you chuse another subiect

Clau. Nay then giue him another staffe, this last was broke crosse

Prin. By this light, he changes more and more, I thinke he be angrie
indeede

Clau. If he be, he knowes how to turne his girdle

Ben. Shall I speake a word in your eare?   Clau. God blesse me from
a challenge

Ben. You are a villaine, I iest not, I will make it good how you
dare, with what you dare, and when you dare: do me right, or I will
protest your cowardise: you haue kill'd a sweete Ladie, and her death
shall fall heauie on you, let me heare from you

Clau. Well, I will meete you, so I may haue good cheare

Prin. What, a feast, a feast?

Clau. I faith I thanke him, he hath bid me to a calues head and a
Capon, the which if I doe not carue most curiously, say my knife's
naught, shall I not finde a woodcocke too?

Ben. Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily

Prin. Ile tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other day: I
said thou hadst a fine wit: true saies she, a fine little one: no said
I, a great wit: right saies shee, a great grosse one: nay said I, a
good wit: iust said she, it hurts no body: nay said I, the gentleman is
wise: certaine said she, a wise gentleman: nay said I, he hath the
tongues: that I beleeue said shee, for hee swore a thing to me on
munday night, which he forswore on tuesday morning: there's a double
tongue, there's two tongues: thus did shee an howre together
trans-shape thy particular vertues, yet at last she concluded with a
sigh, thou wast the proprest man in Italie

Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said shee car'd not

Prin. Yea that she did, but yet for all that, and if shee did not
hate him deadlie, shee would loue him dearely, the old mans daughter
told vs all

Clau. All, all, and moreouer, God saw him when he was hid in the
garden

Prin. But when shall we set the sauage Bulls hornes on the sensible
Benedicks head?

Clau. Yea and text vnderneath, heere dwells Benedicke the married
man

Ben. Fare you well, Boy, you know my minde, I will leaue you now to
your gossep-like humor, you breake iests as braggards do their blades,
which God be thanked hurt not: my Lord, for your manie courtesies I
thank you, I must discontinue your companie, your brother the Bastard
is fled from Messina: you haue among you, kill'd a sweet and innocent
Ladie: for my Lord Lackebeard there, he and I shall meete, and till
then peace be with him

Prin. He is in earnest

Clau. In most profound earnest, and Ile warrant you, for the loue of
Beatrice

Prin. And hath challeng'd thee

Clau. Most sincerely

Prin. What a prettie thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and
hose, and leaues off his wit. Enter Constable, Conrade, and Borachio.

Clau. He is then a Giant to an Ape, but then is an Ape a Doctor to
such a man

Prin. But soft you, let me be, plucke vp my heart, and be sad, did
he not say my brother was fled?   Const. Come you sir, if iustice
cannot tame you, shee shall nere weigh more reasons in her ballance,
nay, and you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be lookt to

Prin. How now, two of my brothers men bound? Borachio one

Clau. Harken after their offence my Lord

Prin. Officers, what offence haue these men done?   Const. Marrie
sir, they haue committed false report, moreouer they haue spoken
vntruths, secondarily they are slanders, sixt and lastly, they haue
belyed a Ladie, thirdly, they haue verified vniust things, and to
conclude they are lying knaues

Prin. First I aske thee what they haue done, thirdlie I aske thee
what's their offence, sixt and lastlie why they are committed, and to
conclude, what you lay to their charge

Clau. Rightlie reasoned, and in his owne diuision, and by my troth
there's one meaning well suted

Prin. Who haue you offended masters, that you are thus bound to your
answer? this learned Constable is too cunning to be vnderstood, what's
your offence?   Bor. Sweete Prince, let me go no farther to mine
answere: do you heare me, and let this Count kill mee: I haue deceiued
euen your verie eies: what your wisedomes could not discouer, these
shallow fooles haue brought to light, who in the night ouerheard me
confessing to this man, how Don Iohn your brother incensed me to
slander the Ladie Hero, how you were brought into the Orchard, and saw
me court Margaret in Heroes garments, how you disgrac'd her when you
should marrie her: my villanie they haue vpon record, which I had
rather seale with my death, then repeate ouer to my shame: the Ladie is
dead vpon mine and my masters false accusation: and briefelie, I desire
nothing but the reward of a villaine

Prin. Runs not this speech like yron through your bloud?

Clau. I haue drunke poison whiles he vtter'd it

Prin. But did my Brother set thee on to this?   Bor. Yea, and paid
me richly for the practise of it

Prin. He is compos'd and fram'd of treacherie, And fled he is vpon
this villanie

Clau. Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appeare In the rare semblance
that I lou'd it first

Const. Come, bring away the plaintiffes, by this time our Sexton
hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter: and masters, do not forget
to specifie when time & place shall serue, that I am an Asse

Con.2. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too.

Enter Leonato.

Leon. Which is the villaine? let me see his eies, That when I note
another man like him,

I may auoide him: which of these is he?

Bor. If you would know your wronger, looke on me

Leon. Art thou the slaue that with thy breath hast kild mine
innocent childe?

Bor. Yea, euen I alone

Leo. No, not so villaine, thou beliest thy selfe, Here stand a paire
of honourable men,

A third is fled that had a hand in it:

I thanke you Princes for my daughters death, Record it with your high
and worthie deedes, 'Twas brauely done, if you bethinke you of it

Clau. I know not how to pray your patience, Yet I must speake,
choose your reuenge your selfe, Impose me to what penance your
inuention

Can lay vpon my sinne, yet sinn'd I not,

But in mistaking

Prin. By my soule nor I,

And yet to satisfie this good old man,

I would bend vnder anie heauie waight,

That heele enioyne me to

Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter liue, That were impossible,
but I praie you both, Possesse the people in Messina here,

How innocent she died, and if your loue

Can labour aught in sad inuention,

Hang her an epitaph vpon her toomb,

And sing it to her bones, sing it to night: To morrow morning come you
to my house,

And since you could not be my sonne in law, Be yet my Nephew: my
brother hath a daughter, Almost the copie of my childe that's dead, And
she alone is heire to both of vs,

Giue her the right you should haue giu'n her cosin, And so dies my
reuenge

Clau. O noble sir!

Your ouerkindnesse doth wring teares from me, I do embrace your offer,
and dispose

For henceforth of poore Claudio

Leon. To morrow then I will expect your comming, To night I take my
leaue, this naughtie man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who
I beleeue was packt in all this wrong, Hired to it by your brother

Bor. No, by my soule she was not,

Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me, But alwaies hath bin
iust and vertuous,

In anie thing that I do know by her

Const. Moreouer sir, which indeede is not vnder white and black,
this plaintiffe here, the offendour did call mee asse, I beseech you
let it be remembred in his punishment, and also the watch heard them
talke of one Deformed, they say he weares a key in his eare and a lock
hanging by it, and borrowes monie in Gods name, the which he hath vs'd
so long, and neuer paied, that now men grow hard-harted and will lend
nothing for Gods sake: praie you examine him vpon that point

Leon. I thanke thee for thy care and honest paines

Const. Your worship speakes like a most thankefull and reuerend
youth, and I praise God for you

Leon. There's for thy paines

Const. God saue the foundation

Leon. Goe, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thanke thee

Const. I leaue an arrant knaue with your worship, which I beseech
your worship to correct your selfe, for the example of others: God
keepe your worship, I wish your worship well, God restore you to
health, I humblie giue you leaue to depart, and if a merrie meeting may
be wisht, God prohibite it: come neighbour

Leon. Vntill to morrow morning, Lords, farewell.

Exeunt.

Brot. Farewell my Lords, we looke for you to morrow

Prin. We will not faile

Clau. To night ile mourne with Hero

Leon. Bring you these fellowes on, weel talke with Margaret, How her
acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.

Exeunt.

Enter Benedicke and Margaret.

Ben. Praie thee sweete Mistris Margaret, deserue well at my hands, by
helping mee to the speech of Beatrice

Mar. Will you then write me a Sonnet in praise of my beautie?

Bene. In so high a stile Margaret, that no man liuing shall come ouer
it, for in most comely truth thou deseruest it

Mar. To haue no man come ouer me, why, shall I alwaies keepe below
staires?

Bene. Thy wit is as quicke as the grey-hounds mouth, it catches

Mar. And yours, as blunt as the Fencers foiles, which hit, but hurt
not

Bene. A most manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a woman: and so I
pray thee call Beatrice, I giue thee the bucklers

Mar. Giue vs the swords, wee haue bucklers of our owne

Bene. If you vse them Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a
vice, and they are dangerous weapons for Maides

Mar. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I thinke hath legges.

Exit Margarite.

Ben. And therefore will come. The God of loue that sits aboue, and
knowes me, and knowes me, how pittifull I deserue. I meane in singing,
but in louing, Leander the good swimmer, Troilous the first imploier of
pandars, and a whole booke full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose
name yet runne smoothly in the euen rode of a blanke verse, why they
were neuer so truely turned ouer and ouer as my poore selfe in loue:
marrie I cannot shew it rime, I haue tried, I can finde out no rime to
Ladie but babie, an innocent rime: for scorne, horne, a hard rime: for
schoole foole, a babling rime: verie ominous endings, no, I was not
borne vnder a riming Plannet, for I cannot wooe in festiuall tearmes:
Enter Beatrice.

sweete Beatrice would'st thou come when I cal'd thee?

Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me

Bene. O stay but till then

Beat. Then, is spoken: fare you well now, and yet ere I goe, let me
goe with that I came, which is, with knowing what hath past betweene
you and Claudio

Bene. Onely foule words, and thereupon I will kisse thee

Beat. Foule words is but foule wind, and foule wind is but foule
breath, and foule breath is noisome, therefore I will depart vnkist

Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sence, so
forcible is thy wit, but I must tell thee plainely, Claudio vndergoes
my challenge, and either I must shortly heare from him, or I will
subscribe him a coward, and I pray thee now tell me, for which of my
bad parts didst thou first fall in loue with me?

Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd so politique a state of
euill, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them:
but for which of my good parts did you first suffer loue for me? Bene.
Suffer loue! a good epithite, I do suffer loue indeede, for I loue thee
against my will,

Beat. In spight of your heart I think, alas poore heart, if you
spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours, for I will neuer
loue that which my friend hates

Bened. Thou and I are too wise to wooe peaceablie

Bea. It appeares not in this confession, there's not one wise man
among twentie that will praise himselfe

Bene. An old, an old instance Beatrice, that liu'd in the time of
good neighbours, if a man doe not erect in this age his owne tombe ere
he dies, hee shall liue no longer in monuments, then the Bels ring, &
the Widdow weepes

Beat. And how long is that thinke you?   Ben. Question, why an hower
in clamour and a quarter in rhewme, therfore is it most expedient for
the wise, if Don worme (his conscience) finde no impediment to the
contrarie, to be the trumpet of his owne vertues, as I am to my selfe
so much for praising my selfe, who I my selfe will beare witnesse is
praise worthie, and now tell me, how doth your cosin?

Beat. Verie ill

Bene. And how doe you?

Beat. Verie ill too.

Enter Vrsula.

Bene. Serue God, loue me, and mend, there will I leaue you too, for
here comes one in haste

Vrs. Madam, you must come to your Vncle, yonders old coile at home,
it is prooued my Ladie Hero hath bin falselie accusde, the Prince and
Claudio mightilie abusde, and Don Iohn is the author of all, who is
fled and gone: will you come presentlie?   Beat. Will you go heare this
newes Signior?   Bene. I will liue in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be
buried in thy eies: and moreouer, I will goe with thee to thy Vncles.

Exeunt.

Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or foure with Tapers.

Clau. Is this the monument of Leonato?

Lord. It is my Lord.

Epitaph.

Done to death by slanderous tongues,

Was the Hero that here lies:

Death in guerdon of her wrongs,

Giues her fame which neuer dies:

So the life that dyed with shame,

Liues in death with glorious fame.

Hang thou there vpon the tombe,

Praising her when I am dombe

Clau. Now musick sound & sing your solemn hymne

Song.

Pardon goddesse of the night,

Those that slew thy virgin knight,

For the which with songs of woe,

Round about her tombe they goe:

Midnight assist our mone, helpe vs to sigh and grone. Heauily,
heauily.

Graues yawne and yeelde your dead,

Till death be vttered,

Heauenly, heauenly

Lo. Now vnto thy bones good night, yeerely will I do this right

Prin. Good morrow masters, put your Torches out, The wolues haue
preied, and looke, the gentle day Before the wheeles of Phoebus, round
about Dapples the drowsie East with spots of grey: Thanks to you all,
and leaue vs, fare you well

Clau. Good morrow masters, each his seuerall way

Prin. Come let vs hence, and put on other weedes, And then to
Leonatoes we will goe

Clau. And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds, Then this for whom we
rendred vp this woe.

Exeunt.

Enter Leonato, Bene. Marg. Vrsula, old man, Frier, Hero.

Frier. Did I not tell you she was innocent?   Leo. So are the Prince
and Claudio who accus'd her, Vpon the errour that you heard debated:

But Margaret was in some fault for this,

Although against her will as it appeares, In the true course of all the
question

Old. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well

Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young
Claudio to a reckoning for it

Leo. Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber
by your selues,

And when I send for you, come hither mask'd: The Prince and Claudio
promis'd by this howre To visit me, you know your office Brother, You
must be father to your brothers daughter, And giue her to young
Claudio.

Exeunt. Ladies.

Old. Which I will doe with confirm'd countenance

Bene. Frier, I must intreat your paines, I thinke

Frier. To doe what Signior?

Bene. To binde me, or vndoe me, one of them: Signior Leonato, truth
it is good Signior, Your neece regards me with an eye of fauour

Leo. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true

Bene. And I doe with an eye of loue requite her

Leo. The sight whereof I thinke you had from me, From Claudio, and
the Prince, but what's your will?   Bened. Your answer sir is
Enigmaticall, But for my will, my will is, your good will May stand
with ours, this day to be conioyn'd, In the state of honourable
marriage,

In which (good Frier) I shall desire your helpe

Leon. My heart is with your liking

Frier. And my helpe.

Enter Prince and Claudio, with attendants.

Prin. Good morrow to this faire assembly

Leo. Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio: We heere attend you,
are you yet determin'd, To day to marry with my brothers daughter?
Claud. Ile hold my minde were she an Ethiope

Leo. Call her forth brother, heres the Frier ready

Prin. Good morrow Benedicke, why what's the matter? That you haue
such a Februarie face,

So full of frost, of storme, and clowdinesse

Claud. I thinke he thinkes vpon the sauage bull: Tush, feare not
man, wee'll tip thy hornes with gold, And all Europa shall reioyce at
thee,

As once Europa did at lusty Ioue,

When he would play the noble beast in loue

Ben. Bull Ioue sir, had an amiable low, And some such strange bull
leapt your fathers Cow, A got a Calfe in that same noble feat,

Much like to you, for you haue iust his bleat. Enter brother, Hero,
Beatrice, Margaret, Vrsula.

Cla. For this I owe you: here comes other recknings. Which is the
Lady I must seize vpon?

Leo. This same is she, and I doe giue you her

Cla. Why then she's mine, sweet let me see your face

Leon. No that you shal not, till you take her hand, Before this
Frier, and sweare to marry her

Clau. Giue me your hand before this holy Frier, I am your husband if
you like of me

Hero. And when I liu'd I was your other wife, And when you lou'd,
you were my other husband

Clau. Another Hero?

Hero. Nothing certainer.

One Hero died, but I doe liue,

And surely as I liue, I am a maid

Prin. The former Hero, Hero that is dead

Leon. Shee died my Lord, but whiles her slander liu'd

Frier. All this amazement can I qualifie, When after that the holy
rites are ended, Ile tell you largely of faire Heroes death: Meane time
let wonder seeme familiar,

And to the chappell let vs presently

Ben. Soft and faire Frier, which is Beatrice?   Beat. I answer to
that name, what is your will?   Bene. Doe not you loue me?

Beat. Why no, no more then reason

Bene. Why then your Vncle, and the Prince, & Claudio, haue beene
deceiued, they swore you did

Beat. Doe not you loue mee?

Bene. Troth no, no more then reason

Beat. Why then my Cosin Margaret and Vrsula Are much deceiu'd, for
they did sweare you did

Bene. They swore you were almost sicke for me

Beat. They swore you were wel-nye dead for me

Bene. 'Tis no matter, then you doe not loue me?   Beat. No truly,
but in friendly recompence

Leon. Come Cosin, I am sure you loue the gentlema[n]

Clau. And Ile be sworne vpon't, that he loues her, For heres a paper
written in his hand,

A halting sonnet of his owne pure braine, Fashioned to Beatrice

Hero. And heeres another,

Writ in my cosins hand, stolne from her pocket, Containing her
affection vnto Benedicke

Bene. A miracle, here's our owne hands against our hearts: come I
will haue thee, but by this light I take thee for pittie

Beat. I would not denie you, but by this good day, I yeeld vpon
great perswasion, & partly to saue your life, for I was told, you were
in a consumption

Leon. Peace I will stop your mouth

Prin. How dost thou Benedicke the married man?   Bene. Ile tell thee
what Prince: a Colledge of witte-crackers cannot flout mee out of my
humour, dost thou think I care for a Satyre or an Epigram? no, if a man
will be beaten with braines, a shall weare nothing handsome about him:
in briefe, since I do purpose to marry, I will thinke nothing to any
purpose that the world can say against it, and therefore neuer flout at
me, for I haue said against it: for man is a giddy thing, and this is
my conclusion: for thy part Claudio, I did thinke to haue beaten thee,
but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, liue vnbruis'd, and loue my
cousin

Cla. I had well hop'd y wouldst haue denied Beatrice, y I might haue
cudgel'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer,
which out of questio[n] thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not looke
exceeding narrowly to thee

Bene. Come, come, we are friends, let's haue a dance ere we are
married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wiues heeles

Leon. Wee'll haue dancing afterward

Bene. First, of my word, therfore play musick. Prince, thou art sad,
get thee a wife, get thee a wife, there is no staff more reuerend then
one tipt with horn. Enter. Mes.

Messen. My Lord, your brother Iohn is tane in flight, And brought
with armed men backe to Messina

Bene. Thinke not on him till to morrow, ile deuise thee braue
punishments for him: strike vp Pipers.

Dance.

FINIS. Much adoe about Nothing.



Loues Labour's lost

Actus primus.

Enter Ferdinand King of Nauarre, Berowne, Longauill, and Dumane.

Ferdinand. Let Fame, that all hunt after in their liues, Liue
registred vpon our brazen Tombes,

And then grace vs in the disgrace of death: when spight of cormorant
deuouring Time,

Th' endeuour of this present breath may buy: That honour which shall
bate his sythes keene edge, And make vs heyres of all eternitie.

Therefore braue Conquerours, for so you are, That warre against your
owne affections,

And the huge Armie of the worlds desires. Our late edict shall strongly
stand in force, Nauar shall be the wonder of the world.

Our Court shall be a little Achademe,

Still and contemplatiue in liuing Art.

You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longauill, Haue sworne for three
yeeres terme, to liue with me: My fellow Schollers, and to keepe those
statutes That are recorded in this scedule heere.

Your oathes are past, and now subscribe your names: That his owne hand
may strike his honour downe, That violates the smallest branch heerein:
If you are arm'd to doe, as sworne to do, Subscribe to your deepe
oathes, and keepe it to

Longauill. I am resolu'd, 'tis but a three yeeres fast: The minde
shall banquet, though the body pine, Fat paunches haue leane pates: and
dainty bits, Make rich the ribs, but bankerout the wits

Dumane. My louing Lord, Dumane is mortified, The grosser manner of
these worlds delights, He throwes vpon the grosse worlds baser slaues:
To loue, to wealth, to pompe, I pine and die, With all these liuing in
Philosophie

Berowne. I can but say their protestation ouer, So much, deare
Liege, I haue already sworne, That is, to liue and study heere three
yeeres. But there are other strict obseruances:

As not to see a woman in that terme,

Which I hope well is not enrolled there.

And one day in a weeke to touch no foode: And but one meale on euery
day beside:

The which I hope is not enrolled there.

And then to sleepe but three houres in the night, And not be seene to
winke of all the day. When I was wont to thinke no harme all night, And
make a darke night too of halfe the day: Which I hope well is not
enrolled there.

O, these are barren taskes, too hard to keepe, Not to see Ladies,
study, fast, not sleepe

Ferd. Your oath is past, to passe away from these

Berow. Let me say no my Liedge, and if you please, I onely swore to
study with your grace,

And stay heere in your Court for three yeeres space

Longa. You swore to that Berowne, and to the rest

Berow. By yea and nay sir, than I swore in iest. What is the end of
study, let me know?

Fer. Why that to know which else wee should not know

Ber. Things hid & bard (you meane) fro[m] co[m]mon sense

Ferd. I, that is studies god-like recompence

Bero. Come on then, I will sweare to studie so, To know the thing I
am forbid to know:

As thus, to study where I well may dine,

When I to fast expressely am forbid.

Or studie where to meete some Mistresse fine, When Mistresses from
common sense are hid. Or hauing sworne too hard a keeping oath, Studie
to breake it, and not breake my troth. If studies gaine be thus, and
this be so, Studie knowes that which yet it doth not know, Sweare me to
this, and I will nere say no

Ferd. These be the stops that hinder studie quite, And traine our
intellects to vaine delight

Ber. Why? all delights are vaine, and that most vaine Which with
paine purchas'd, doth inherit paine, As painefully to poare vpon a
Booke,

To seeke the light of truth, while truth the while Doth falsely blinde
the eye-sight of his looke: Light seeking light, doth light of light
beguile: So ere you finde where light in darkenesse lies, Your light
growes darke by losing of your eyes. Studie me how to please the eye
indeede,

By fixing it vpon a fairer eye,

Who dazling so, that eye shall be his heed, And giue him light that it
was blinded by. Studie is like the heauens glorious Sunne, That will
not be deepe search'd with sawcy lookes: Small haue continuall plodders
euer wonne, Saue base authoritie from others Bookes.

These earthly Godfathers of heauens lights, That giue a name to euery
fixed Starre,

Haue no more profit of their shining nights, Then those that walke and
wot not what they are. Too much to know, is to know nought but fame:
And euery Godfather can giue a name

Fer. How well hee's read, to reason against reading

Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding

Lon. Hee weedes the corne, and still lets grow the weeding

Ber. The Spring is neare when greene geesse are a breeding

Dum. How followes that?

Ber. Fit in his place and time

Dum. In reason nothing

Ber. Something then in rime

Ferd. Berowne is like an enuious sneaping Frost, That bites the
first borne infants of the Spring

Ber. Wel, say I am, why should proud Summer boast, Before the Birds
haue any cause to sing?

Why should I ioy in any abortiue birth?

At Christmas I no more desire a Rose,

Then wish a Snow in Mayes new fangled showes: But like of each thing
that in season growes. So you to studie now it is too late,

That were to clymbe ore the house to vnlocke the gate

Fer. Well, sit you out: go home Berowne: adue

Ber. No my good Lord, I haue sworn to stay with you. And though I
haue for barbarisme spoke more, Then for that Angell knowledge you can
say, Yet confident Ile keepe what I haue sworne, And bide the pennance
of each three yeares day. Giue me the paper, let me reade the same, And
to the strictest decrees Ile write my name

Fer. How well this yeelding rescues thee from shame

Ber. Item. That no woman shall come within a mile of my Court.

Hath this bin proclaimed?

Lon. Foure dayes agoe

Ber. Let's see the penaltie.

On paine of loosing her tongue.

Who deuis'd this penaltie?

Lon. Marry that did I

Ber. Sweete Lord, and why?

Lon. To fright them hence with that dread penaltie, A dangerous law
against gentilitie.

Item, If any man be seene to talke with a woman within the tearme of
three yeares, hee shall indure such publique shame as the rest of the
Court shall possibly deuise

Ber. This Article my Liedge your selfe must breake, For well you
know here comes in Embassie

The French Kings daughter, with your selfe to speake: A Maide of grace
and compleate maiestie,

About surrender vp of Aquitaine:

To her decrepit, sicke, and bed-rid Father. Therefore this Article is
made in vaine,

Or vainly comes th' admired Princesse hither

Fer. What say you Lords?

Why, this was quite forgot

Ber. So Studie euermore is ouershot,

While it doth study to haue what it would, It doth forget to doe the
thing it should: And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, 'Tis won
as townes with fire, so won, so lost

Fer. We must of force dispence with this Decree, She must lye here
on meere necessitie

Ber. Necessity will make vs all forsworne Three thousand times
within this three yeeres space: For euery man with his affects is
borne,

Not by might mastred, but by speciall grace. If I breake faith, this
word shall breake for me, I am forsworne on meere necessitie.

So to the Lawes at large I write my name, And he that breakes them in
the least degree, Stands in attainder of eternall shame.

Suggestions are to others as to me:

But I beleeue although I seeme so loth,

I am the last that will last keepe his oth. But is there no quicke
recreation granted?   Fer. I that there is, our Court you know is
hanted With a refined trauailer of Spaine,

A man in all the worlds new fashion planted, That hath a mint of
phrases in his braine: One, who the musicke of his owne vaine tongue,
Doth rauish like inchanting harmonie:

A man of complements whom right and wrong Haue chose as vmpire of their
mutinie.

This childe of fancie that Armado hight,

For interim to our studies shall relate,

In high-borne words the worth of many a Knight: From tawnie Spaine lost
in the worlds debate. How you delight my Lords, I know not I,

But I protest I loue to heare him lie,

And I will vse him for my Minstrelsie

Bero. Armado is a most illustrious wight, A man of fire, new words,
fashions owne Knight

Lon. Costard the swaine and he, shall be our sport, And so to
studie, three yeeres is but short. Enter a Constable with Costard with
a Letter.

Const. Which is the Dukes owne person

Ber. This fellow, What would'st?

Con. I my selfe reprehend his owne person, for I am his graces
Tharborough: But I would see his own person in flesh and blood

Ber. This is he

Con. Signeor Arme, Arme commends you:

Ther's villanie abroad, this letter will tell you more

Clow. Sir the Contempts thereof are as touching mee

Fer. A letter from the magnificent Armado

Ber. How low soeuer the matter, I hope in God for high words

Lon. A high hope for a low heauen, God grant vs patience

Ber. To heare, or forbeare hearing

Lon. To heare meekely sir, and to laugh moderately, or to forbeare
both

Ber. Well sir, be it as the stile shall giue vs cause to clime in
the merrinesse

Clo. The matter is to me sir, as concerning Iaquenetta. The manner
of it is, I was taken with the manner

Ber. In what manner?

Clo. In manner and forme following sir all those three. I was seene
with her in the Mannor house, sitting with her vpon the Forme, and
taken following her into the Parke: which put to gether, is in manner
and forme following. Now sir for the manner; It is the manner of a man
to speake to a woman, for the forme in some forme

Ber. For the following sir

Clo. As it shall follow in my correction, and God defend the right

Fer. Will you heare this Letter with attention?   Ber. As we would
heare an Oracle

Clo. Such is the simplicitie of man to harken after the flesh

Ferdinand. Great Deputie, the Welkins Vicegerent, and sole
dominator

of Nauar, my soules earths God, and bodies fostring patrone:

Cost. Not a word of Costard yet

Ferd. So it is

Cost. It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is in telling true:
but so

Ferd. Peace,

Clow. Be to me, and euery man that dares not fight

Ferd. No words,

Clow. Of other mens secrets I beseech you

Ferd. So it is besieged with sable coloured melancholie, I did
commend the blacke oppressing humour to the most wholesome

Physicke of thy health-giuing ayre: And as I am a Gentleman, betooke my
selfe to walke: the time When? about the sixt houre, When beasts most
grase, birds best pecke, and men sit downe to that nourishment which is
called supper: So much for the time When. Now for the ground Which?
which I meane I walkt vpon, it is ycliped, Thy Parke. Then for the
place Where? where I meane I did encounter that obscene and most
preposterous euent that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon
coloured Inke, which heere thou viewest, beholdest: suruayest, or
seest. But to the place Where? It standeth North North-east and by East
from the West corner of thy curious knotted garden; There did I see
that low spirited Swaine, that base Minow of thy myrth,

Clown. Mee?

Ferd. that vnletered small knowing soule,   Clow Me?

Ferd. that shallow

vassall

Clow. Still mee?)

Ferd. which as I remember, hight Costard,   Clow. O me)

Ferd. sorted and consorted contrary to thy established proclaymed
Edict and Continent, Cannon: Which with, o with, but with this I
passion to say wherewith:   Clo. With a Wench

Ferd. With a childe of our Grandmother Eue, a female; or for thy
more sweet understanding a woman: him, I (as my euer esteemed dutie
prickes me on) haue sent to thee, to receiue the meed of punishment by
the sweet Graces Officer Anthony Dull, a man of good repute, carriage,
bearing, & estimation

Anth. Me, an't shall please you? I am Anthony Dull

Ferd. For Iaquenetta (so is the weaker vessell called) which I
apprehended with the aforesaid Swaine, I keepe her as a vessell of thy
Lawes furie, and shall at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to
triall. Thine in all complements of deuoted and heart-burning heat of
dutie.

Don Adriana de Armado

Ber. This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that euer I
heard

Fer. I the best, for the worst. But sirra, What say you to this?

Clo. Sir I confesse the Wench

Fer. Did you heare the Proclamation?

Clo. I doe confesse much of the hearing it, but little of the marking
of it

Fer. It was proclaimed a yeeres imprisonment to bee taken with a
Wench

Clow. I was taken with none sir, I was taken with a Damosell

Fer. Well, it was proclaimed Damosell

Clo. This was no Damosell neyther sir, shee was a Virgin

Fer. It is so varried to, for it was proclaimed Virgin

Clo. If it were, I denie her Virginitie: I was taken with a Maide

Fer. This Maid will not serue your turne sir

Clo. This Maide will serue my turne sir

Kin. Sir I will pronounce your sentence: You shall fast a Weeke with
Branne and water

Clo. I had rather pray a Moneth with Mutton and Porridge

Kin. And Don Armado shall be your keeper. My Lord Berowne, see him
deliuer'd ore,

And goe we Lords to put in practice that, Which each to other hath so
strongly sworne

Bero. Ile lay my head to any good mans hat, These oathes and lawes
will proue an idle scorne. Sirra, come on

Clo. I suffer for the truth sir: for true it is, I was taken with
Iaquenetta, and Iaquenetta is a true girle, and therefore welcome the
sowre cup of prosperitie, affliction may one day smile againe, and
vntill then sit downe sorrow.

Enter.

Enter Armado and Moth his Page.

Arma. Boy, What signe is it when a man of great spirit growes
melancholy?

Boy. A great signe sir, that he will looke sad

Brag. Why? sadnesse is one and the selfe-same thing deare impe

Boy. No no, O Lord sir no

Brag. How canst thou part sadnesse and melancholy my tender
Iuuenall?

Boy. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough signeur

Brag. Why tough signeur? Why tough signeur?   Boy. Why tender
Iuuenall? Why tender Iuuenall?   Brag. I spoke it tender Iuuenall, as a
congruent apathaton, appertaining to thy young daies, which we may
nominate tender

Boy. And I tough signeur, as an appertinent title to your olde time,
which we may name tough

Brag. Pretty and apt

Boy. How meane you sir, I pretty, and my saying apt? or I apt, and
my saying prettie?

Brag. Thou pretty because little

Boy. Little pretty, because little: wherefore apt?   Brag. And
therefore apt, because quicke

Boy. Speake you this in my praise Master?   Brag. In thy condigne
praise

Boy. I will praise an Eele with the same praise

Brag. What? that an Eele is ingenuous

Boy. That an Eele is quicke

Brag. I doe say thou art quicke in answeres. Thou heat'st my bloud

Boy. I am answer'd sir

Brag. I loue not to be crost

Boy. He speakes the meere contrary, crosses loue not him

Br. I haue promis'd to study iij. yeres with the Duke

Boy. You may doe it in an houre sir

Brag. Impossible

Boy. How many is one thrice told?

Bra. I am ill at reckning, it fits the spirit of a Tapster

Boy. You are a gentleman and a gamester sir

Brag. I confesse both, they are both the varnish of a compleat man

Boy. Then I am sure you know how much the grosse summe of deus-ace
amounts to

Brag. It doth amount to one more then two

Boy. Which the base vulgar call three

Br. True

Boy. Why sir is this such a peece of study? Now here's three
studied, ere you'll thrice wink, & how easie it is to put yeres to the
word three, and study three yeeres in two words, the dancing horse will
tell you

Brag. A most fine Figure

Boy. To proue you a Cypher

Brag. I will heereupon confesse I am in loue: and as it is base for
a Souldier to loue; so am I in loue with a base wench. If drawing my
sword against the humour of affection, would deliuer mee from the
reprobate thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and ransome him
to any French Courtier for a new deuis'd curtsie. I thinke scorne to
sigh, me thinkes I should out-sweare Cupid. Comfort me Boy, What great
men haue beene in loue?

Boy. Hercules Master

Brag. Most sweete Hercules: more authority deare Boy, name more; and
sweet my childe let them be men of good repute and carriage

Boy. Sampson Master, he was a man of good carriage, great carriage:
for hee carried the Towne-gates on his backe like a Porter: and he was
in loue

Brag. O well-knit Sampson, strong ioynted Sampson; I doe excell thee
in my rapier, as much as thou didst mee in carrying gates. I am in loue
too. Who was Sampsons loue my deare Moth?

Boy. A Woman, Master

Brag. Of what complexion?

Boy. Of all the foure, or the three, or the two, or one of the foure

Brag. Tell me precisely of what complexion?   Boy. Of the sea-water
Greene sir

Brag. Is that one of the foure complexions?   Boy. As I haue read
sir, and the best of them too

Brag. Greene indeed is the colour of Louers: but to haue a Loue of
that colour, methinkes Sampson had small reason for it. He surely
affected her for her wit

Boy. It was so sir, for she had a greene wit

Brag. My Loue is most immaculate white and red

Boy. Most immaculate thoughts Master, are mask'd vnder such colours

Brag. Define, define, well educated infant

Boy. My fathers witte, and my mothers tongue assist mee

Brag. Sweet inuocation of a childe, most pretty and patheticall

Boy. If shee be made of white and red, Her faults will nere be
knowne:

For blushin cheekes by faults are bred,

And feares by pale white showne:

Then if she feare, or be to blame,

By this you shall not know,

For still her cheekes possesse the same,

Which natiue she doth owe:

A dangerous rime master against the reason of white and redde

Brag. Is there not a ballet Boy, of the King and the Begger?

Boy. The world was very guilty of such a Ballet some three ages
since, but I thinke now 'tis not to be found: or if it were, it would
neither serue for the writing, nor the tune

Brag. I will haue that subiect newly writ ore, that I may example my
digression by some mighty president. Boy, I doe loue that Countrey
girle that I tooke in the Parke with the rationall hinde Costard: she
deserues well

Boy. To bee whip'd: and yet a better loue then my Master

Brag. Sing Boy, my spirit grows heauy in loue

Boy. And that's great maruell, louing a light wench

Brag. I say sing

Boy. Forbeare till this company be past. Enter Clowne, Constable,
and Wench.

Const. Sir, the Dukes pleasure, is that you keepe Costard safe, and
you must let him take no delight, nor no penance, but hee must fast
three daies a weeke: for this Damsell, I must keepe her at the Parke,
shee is alowd for the Day-woman. Fare you well.

Enter.

Brag. I do betray my selfe with blushing: Maide

Maid. Man

Brag. I wil visit thee at the Lodge

Maid. That's here by

Brag. I know where it is situate

Mai. Lord how wise you are!

Brag. I will tell thee wonders

Ma. With what face?

Brag. I loue thee

Mai. So I heard you say

Brag. And so farewell

Mai. Faire weather after you

Clo. Come Iaquenetta, away.

Exeunt.

Brag. Villaine, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be
pardoned

Clo. Well sir, I hope when I doe it, I shall doe it on a full
stomacke

Brag. Thou shalt be heauily punished

Clo. I am more bound to you then your fellowes, for they are but
lightly rewarded

Clo. Take away this villaine, shut him vp

Boy. Come you transgressing slaue, away

Clow. Let mee not bee pent vp sir, I will fast being loose

Boy. No sir, that were fast and loose: thou shalt to prison

Clow. Well, if euer I do see the merry dayes of desolation that I
haue seene, some shall see

Boy. What shall some see?

Clow. Nay nothing, Master Moth, but what they looke vpon. It is not
for prisoners to be silent in their words, and therefore I will say
nothing: I thanke God, I haue as little patience as another man, and
therefore I can be quiet.

Enter.

Brag. I doe affect the very ground (which is base) where her shooe
(which is baser) guided by her foote (which is basest) doth tread. I
shall be forsworn (which is a great argument of falshood) if I loue.
And how can that be true loue, which is falsly attempted? Loue is a
familiar, Loue is a Diuell. There is no euill Angell but Loue, yet
Sampson was so tempted, and he had an excellent strength: Yet was
Salomon so seduced, and hee had a very good witte. Cupids Butshaft is
too hard for Hercules Clubbe, and therefore too much ods for a
Spaniards Rapier: The first and second cause will not serue my turne:
the Passado hee respects not, the Duello he regards not; his disgrace
is to be called Boy, but his glorie is to subdue men. Adue Valour, rust
Rapier, bee still Drum, for your manager is in loue; yea hee loueth.
Assist me some extemporall god of Rime, for I am sure I shall turne
Sonnet. Deuise Wit, write Pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.

Enter.



Finis Actus Primus.



Actus Secunda.

Enter the Princesse of France, with three attending Ladies, and three

Lords

Boyet. Now Madam summon vp your dearest spirits, Consider who the
King your father sends:

To whom he sends, and what's his Embassie. Your selfe, held precious in
the worlds esteeme, To parlee with the sole inheritour

Of all perfections that a man may owe,

Matchlesse Nauarre, the plea of no lesse weight Then Aquitaine, a
Dowrie for a Queene,

Be now as prodigall of all deare grace,

As Nature was in making Graces deare,

When she did starue the generall world beside, And prodigally gaue them
all to you

Queen. Good L[ord]. Boyet, my beauty though but mean, Needs not the
painted flourish of your praise: Beauty is bought by iudgement of the
eye, Not vttred by base sale of chapmens tongues: I am lesse proud to
heare you tell my worth, Then you much willing to be counted wise, In
spending your wit in the praise of mine. But now to taske the tasker,
good Boyet

Prin. You are not ignorant all-telling fame Doth noyse abroad Nauar
hath made a vow,

Till painefull studie shall out-weare three yeares, No woman may
approach his silent Court:

Therefore to's seemeth it a needfull course, Before we enter his
forbidden gates,

To know his pleasure, and in that behalfe Bold of your worthinesse, we
single you,

As our best mouing faire soliciter:

Tell him, the daughter of the King of France, On serious businesse
crauing quicke dispatch, Importunes personall conference with his
grace. Haste, signifie so much while we attend,

Like humble visag'd suters his high will

Boy. Proud of imployment, willingly I goe. Enter.

Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so: Who are the
Votaries my Louing Lords, that are vow-fellowes with this vertuous
Duke?

Lor. Longauill is one

Princ. Know you the man?

1 Lady. I know him Madame at a marriage feast, Betweene L[ord].
Perigort and the beautious heire Of Iaques Fauconbridge solemnized.

In Normandie saw I this Longauill,

A man of soueraigne parts he is esteem'd: Well fitted in Arts, glorious
in Armes:

Nothing becomes him ill that he would well. The onely soyle of his
faire vertues glosse, If vertues glosse will staine with any soile, Is
a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a Will: Whose edge hath power to cut
whose will still wills, It should none spare that come within his
power

Prin. Some merry mocking Lord belike, ist so?   Lad.1. They say so
most, that most his humors know

Prin. such short liu'd wits do wither as they grow. Who are the
rest?

2.Lad. The yong Dumaine, a well accomplisht youth, Of all that Vertue
loue, for Vertue loued. Most power to doe most harme, least knowing
ill: For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, And shape to win grace
though she had no wit. I saw him at the Duke Alansoes once,

And much too little of that good I saw,

Is my report to his great worthinesse

Rossa. Another of these Students at that time, Was there with him,
as I haue heard a truth. Berowne they call him, but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becomming mirth,

I neuer spent an houres talke withall.

His eye begets occasion for his wit,

For euery obiect that the one doth catch, The other turnes to a
mirth-mouing iest.

Which his faire tongue (conceits expositor) Deliuers in such apt and
gracious words,

That aged eares play treuant at his tales, And yonger hearings are
quite rauished.

So sweet and voluble is his discourse

Prin. God blesse my Ladies, are they all in loue? That euery one her
owne hath garnished,

With such bedecking ornaments of praise

Ma. Heere comes Boyet.

Enter Boyet.

Prin. Now, what admittance Lord?

Boyet. Nauar had notice of your faire approach; And he and his
competitors in oath,

Were all addrest to meete you gentle Lady Before I came: Marrie thus
much I haue learnt, He rather meanes to lodge you in the field, Like
one that comes heere to besiege his Court, Then seeke a dispensation
for his oath:

To let you enter his vnpeopled house.

Enter Nauar, Longauill, Dumaine, and Berowne.

Heere comes Nauar

Nau. Faire Princesse, welcom to the Court of Nauar

Prin. Faire I giue you backe againe, and welcome I haue not yet: the
roofe of this Court is too high to bee yours, and welcome to the wide
fields, too base to be mine

Nau. You shall be welcome Madam to my Court

Prin. I wil be welcome then, Conduct me thither

Nau. Heare me deare Lady, I haue sworne an oath

Prin. Our Lady helpe my Lord, he'll be forsworne

Nau. Not for the world faire Madam, by my will

Prin. Why, will shall breake it will, and nothing els

Nau. Your Ladiship is ignorant what it is

Prin. Were my Lord so, his ignorance were wise, Where now his
knowledge must proue ignorance. I heare your grace hath sworne out
House-keeping: 'Tis deadly sinne to keepe that oath my Lord, And sinne
to breake it:

But pardon me, I am too sodaine bold,

To teach a Teacher ill beseemeth me.

Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my comming, And sodainly resolue me in
my suite

Nau. Madam, I will, if sodainly I may

Prin. You will the sooner that I were away, For you'll proue
periur'd if you make me stay

Berow. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?   Rosa. Did not I
dance with you in Brabant once?   Ber. I know you did

Rosa. How needlesse was it then to ask the question?   Ber. You must
not be so quicke

Rosa. 'Tis long of you y spur me with such questions

Ber. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire

Rosa. Not till it leaue the Rider in the mire

Ber. What time a day?

Rosa. The howre that fooles should aske

Ber. Now faire befall your maske

Rosa. Faire fall the face it couers

Ber. And send you many louers

Rosa. Amen, so you be none

Ber. Nay then will I be gone

Kin. Madame, your father heere doth intimate, The paiment of a
hundred thousand Crownes, Being but th' one halfe, of an intire summe,
Disbursed by my father in his warres.

But say that he, or we, as neither haue

Receiu'd that summe; yet there remaines vnpaid A hundred thousand more:
in surety of the which, One part of Aquitaine is bound to vs,

Although not valued to the moneys worth.

If then the King your father will restore But that one halfe which is
vnsatisfied,

We will giue vp our right in Aquitaine,

And hold faire friendship with his Maiestie: But that it seemes he
little purposeth,

For here he doth demand to haue repaie,

An hundred thousand Crownes, and not demands One paiment of a hundred
thousand Crownes, To haue his title liue in Aquitaine.

Which we much rather had depart withall,

And haue the money by our father lent,

Then Aquitane, so guelded as it is.

Deare Princesse, were not his requests so farre From reasons yeelding,
your faire selfe should make A yeelding 'gainst some reason in my
brest, And goe well satisfied to France againe

Prin. You doe the King my Father too much wrong, And wrong the
reputation of your name,

In so vnseeming to confesse receyt

Of that which hath so faithfully beene paid

Kin. I doe protest I neuer heard of it, And if you proue it, Ile
repay it backe,

Or yeeld vp Aquitaine

Prin. We arrest your word:

Boyet, you can produce acquittances

For such a summe, from speciall Officers, Of Charles his Father

Kin. Satisfie me so

Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come Where that and
other specialties are bound, To morrow you shall haue a sight of them

Kin. It shall suffice me; at which enterview, All liberall reason
would I yeeld vnto:

Meane time, receiue such welcome at my hand, As honour, without breach
of Honour may

Make tender of, to thy true worthinesse.

You may not come faire Princesse in my gates, But heere without you
shall be so receiu'd, As you shall deeme your selfe lodg'd in my heart,
Though so deni'd farther harbour in my house: Your owne good thoughts
excuse me, and farewell, To morrow we shall visit you againe

Prin. Sweet health & faire desires consort your grace

Kin. Thy own wish wish I thee, in euery place. Enter.

Boy. Lady, I will commend you to my owne heart

La.Ro. Pray you doe my commendations,

I would be glad to see it

Boy. I would you heard it grone

La.Ro. Is the soule sicke?

Boy. Sicke at the heart

La.Ro. Alacke, let it bloud

Boy. Would that doe it good?

La.Ro. My Phisicke saies I

Boy. Will you prick't with your eye

La.Ro. No poynt, with my knife

Boy. Now God saue thy life

La.Ro. And yours from long liuing

Ber. I cannot stay thanks-giuing.

Enter.

Enter Dumane.

Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: What Lady is that same?   Boy. The heire
of Alanson, Rosalin her name

Dum. A gallant Lady, Mounsier fare you well

Long. I beseech you a word: what is she in the white?   Boy. A woman
somtimes, if you saw her in the light

Long. Perchance light in the light: I desire her name

Boy. Shee hath but one for her selfe,

To desire that were a shame

Long. Pray you sir, whose daughter?

Boy. Her Mothers, I haue heard

Long. Gods blessing a your beard

Boy. Good sir be not offended,

Shee is an heyre of Faulconbridge

Long. Nay, my choller is ended:

Shee is a most sweet Lady.

Exit. Long.

Boy. Not vnlike sir, that may be.

Enter Beroune.

Ber. What's her name in the cap

Boy. Katherine by good hap

Ber. Is she wedded, or no

Boy. To her will sir, or so,

Ber. You are welcome sir, adiew

Boy. Fare well to me sir, and welcome to you. Enter.

La.Ma. That last is Beroune, the mery mad-cap Lord. Not a word with
him, but a iest

Boy. And euery iest but a word

Pri. It was well done of you to take him at his word

Boy. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to boord

La.Ma. Two hot Sheepes marie:

And wherefore not Ships?

Boy. No Sheepe (sweet Lamb) vnlesse we feed on your lips

La. You Sheepe & I pasture: shall that finish the iest?   Boy. So
you grant pasture for me

La. Not so gentle beast.

My lips are no Common, though seuerall they be

Bo. Belonging to whom?

La. To my fortunes and me

Prin. Good wits wil be iangling, but gentles agree. This ciuill
warre of wits were much better vsed On Nauar and his bookemen, for
heere 'tis abus'd

Bo. If my obseruation (which very seldome lies By the hearts still
rhetoricke, disclosed with eyes) Deceiue me not now, Nauar is infected

Prin. With what?

Bo. With that which we Louers intitle affected

Prin. Your reason

Bo. Why all his behauiours doe make their retire, To the court of
his eye, peeping thorough desire. His hart like an Agot with your print
impressed, Proud with his forme, in his eie pride expressed. His tongue
all impatient to speake and not see, Did stumble with haste in his
eie-sight to be, All sences to that sence did make their repaire, To
feele onely looking on fairest of faire: Me thought all his sences were
lockt in his eye, As Iewels in Christall for some Prince to Buy. Who
tendring their own worth from whence they were glast, Did point out to
buy them along as you past. His faces owne margent did coate such
amazes, That all eyes saw his eies inchanted with gazes. Ile giue you
Aquitaine, and all that is his, And you giue him for my sake, but one
louing Kisse

Prin. Come to our Pauillion, Boyet is disposde

Bro. But to speak that in words, which his eie hath disclos'd. I
onelie haue made a mouth of his eie,

By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie

Lad.Ro. Thou art an old Loue-monger, and speakest skilfully

Lad.Ma. He is Cupids Grandfather, and learnes news of him

Lad.2. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim

Boy. Do you heare my mad wenches?

La.1. No

Boy. What then, do you see?

Lad.2. I, our way to be gone

Boy. You are too hard for me.

Exeunt. omnes.



Actus Tertius.

Enter Braggart and Boy.

Song.

Bra. Warble childe, make passionate my sense of hearing

Boy. Concolinel

Brag. Sweete Ayer, go tendernesse of yeares: take this Key, giue
enlargement to the swaine, bring him festinatly hither: I must imploy
him in a letter to my Loue

Boy. Will you win your loue with a French braule?   Bra. How meanest
thou, brauling in French?   Boy. No my compleat master, but to Iigge
off a tune at the tongues end, canarie to it with the feete, humour it
with turning vp your eie: sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through
the throate: if you swallowed loue with singing, loue sometime through:
nose as if you snuft vp loue by smelling loue with your hat
penthouselike ore the shop of your eies, with your armes crost on your
thinbellie doublet, like a Rabbet on a spit, or your hands in your
pocket, like a man after the old painting, and keepe not too long in
one tune, but a snip and away: these are complements, these are
humours, these betraie nice wenches that would be betraied without
these, and make them men of note: do you note men that most are
affected to these?

Brag. How hast thou purchased this experience?   Boy. By my penne of
obseruation

Brag. But O, but O

Boy. The Hobbie-horse is forgot

Bra. Cal'st thou my loue Hobbi-horse

Boy. No Master, the Hobbie-horse is but a Colt, and and your Loue
perhaps, a Hacknie:

but haue you forgot your Loue?

Brag. Almost I had

Boy. Negligent student, learne her by heart

Brag. By heart, and in heart Boy

Boy. And out of heart Master: all those three I will proue

Brag. What wilt thou proue?

Boy. A man, if I liue (and this) by, in, and without, vpon the
instant: by heart you loue her, because your heart cannot come by her:
in heart you loue her, because your heart is in loue with her: and out
of heart you loue her, being out of heart that you cannot enioy her

Brag. I am all these three

Boy. And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all

Brag. Fetch hither the Swaine, he must carrie mee a letter

Boy. A message well simpathis'd, a Horse to be embassadour for an
Asse

Brag. Ha, ha, What saiest thou?

Boy. Marrie sir, you must send the Asse vpon the Horse for he is
verie slow gated: but I goe

Brag. The way is but short, away

Boy. As swift as Lead sir

Brag. Thy meaning prettie ingenious, is not Lead a mettall heauie,
dull, and slow?

Boy. Minnime honest Master, or rather Master no

Brag. I say Lead is slow

Boy. You are too swift sir to say so.

Is that Lead slow which is fir'd from a Gunne?   Brag. Sweete smoke of
Rhetorike,

He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's he: I shoote thee at the
Swaine

Boy. Thump then, and I flee

Bra. A most acute Iuuenall, voluble and free of grace, By thy fauour
sweet Welkin, I must sigh in thy face. Most rude melancholie, Valour
giues thee place. My Herald is return'd.

Enter Page and Clowne.

Pag. A wonder Master, here's a Costard broken in a shin

Ar. Some enigma, some riddle, come, thy Lenuoy begin

Clo. No egma, no riddle, no lenuoy, no salue, in thee male sir. Or
sir, Plantan, a plaine Plantan: no lenuoy, no lenuoy, no Salue sir, but
a Plantan

Ar. By vertue, thou inforcest laughter, thy sillie thought, my
spleene, the heauing of my lunges prouokes me to rediculous smyling: O
pardon me my stars, doth the inconsiderate take salue for lenuoy, and
the word lenuoy for a salue?

Pag. Doe the wise thinke them other, is not lenuoy a salue?

Ar. No Page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plaine, Some
obscure precedence that hath tofore bin faine. Now will I begin your
morrall, and do you follow with my lenuoy.

The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee,

Were still at oddes, being but three

Arm. Vntill the Goose came out of doore, Staying the oddes by adding
foure

Pag. A good Lenuoy, ending in the Goose: would you desire more?

Clo. The Boy hath sold him a bargaine, a Goose, that's flat. Sir,
your penny-worth is good, and your Goose be fat. To sell a bargaine
well is as cunning as fast and loose: Let me see a fat Lenuoy, I that's
a fat Goose

Ar. Come hither, come hither:

How did this argument begin?

Boy. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin. Then cal'd you
for the Lenuoy

Clow. True, and I for a Plantan:

Thus came your argument in:

Then the Boyes fat Lenuoy, the Goose that you bought, And he ended the
market

Ar. But tell me: How was there a Costard broken in a shin?

Pag. I will tell you sencibly

Clow. Thou hast no feeling of it Moth, I will speake that Lenuoy.

I Costard running out, that was safely within, Fell ouer the threshold,
and broke my shin

Arm. We will talke no more of this matter

Clow. Till there be more matter in the shin

Arm. Sirra Costard, I will infranchise thee

Clow. O, marrie me to one Francis, I smell some Lenuoy, some Goose
in this

Arm. By my sweete soule, I meane, setting thee at libertie.
Enfreedoming thy person: thou wert emured, restrained, captiuated,
bound

Clow. True, true, and now you will be my purgation, and let me
loose

Arm. I giue thee thy libertie, set thee from durance, and in lieu
thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: Beare this significant to the
countrey Maide Iaquenetta: there is remuneration, for the best ward of
mine honours is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow

Pag. Like the sequell I.

Signeur Costard adew.

Enter.

Clow. My sweete ounce of mans flesh, my inconie Iew: Now will I looke
to his remuneration. Remuneration, O, that's the Latine word for
three-farthings: Three-farthings remuneration, What's the price of this
yncle? i.d. no, Ile giue you a remuneration: Why? It carries it
remuneration: Why? It is a fairer name then a French-Crowne. I will
neuer buy and sell out of this word.

Enter Berowne.

Ber. O my good knaue Costard, exceedingly well met

Clow. Pray you sir, How much Carnation Ribbon may a man buy for a
remuneration?

Ber. What is a remuneration?

Cost. Marrie sir, halfe pennie farthing

Ber. O, Why then threefarthings worth of Silke

Cost. I thanke your worship, God be wy you

Ber. O stay slaue, I must employ thee: As thou wilt win my fauour,
good my knaue, Doe one thing for me that I shall intreate

Clow. When would you haue it done sir?   Ber. O this after-noone

Clo. Well, I will doe it sir: Fare you well

Ber. O thou knowest not what it is

Clo. I shall know sir, when I haue done it

Ber. Why villaine thou must know first

Clo. I wil come to your worship to morrow morning

Ber. It must be done this after-noone, Harke slaue, it is but this:

The Princesse comes to hunt here in the Parke, And in her traine there
is a gentle Ladie: When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name,
And Rosaline they call her, aske for her: And to her white hand see
thou do commend This seal'd-vp counsaile. Ther's thy guerdon: goe

Clo. Gardon, O sweete gardon, better then remuneration, a
leuenpence-farthing better: most sweete gardon. I will doe it sir in
print: gardon, remuneration. Enter.

Ber. O, and I forsooth in loue,

I that haue beene loues whip?

A verie Beadle to a humerous sigh: A Criticke, Nay, a night-watch
Constable.

A domineering pedant ore the Boy,

Then whom no mortall so magnificent,

This wimpled, whyning, purblinde waiward Boy, This signior Iunios gyant
dwarfe, don Cupid, Regent of Loue-rimes, Lord of folded armes, Th'
annointed soueraigne of sighes and groanes: Liedge of all loyterers and
malecontents: Dread Prince of Placcats, King of Codpeeces. Sole
Emperator and great generall

Of trotting Parrators (O my little heart.)

And I to be a Corporall of his field,

And weare his colours like a Tumblers hoope. What? I loue, I sue, I
seeke a wife,

A woman that is like a Germane Cloake,

Still a repairing: euer out of frame,

And neuer going a right, being a Watch:

But being watcht, that it may still goe right. Nay, to be periurde,
which is worst of all: And among three, to loue the worst of all, A
whitly wanton, with a veluet brow.

With two pitch bals stucke in her face for eyes. I, and by heauen, one
that will doe the deede, Though Argus were her Eunuch and her garde.
And I to sigh for her, to watch for her,

To pray for her, go to: it is a plague

That Cupid will impose for my neglect,

Of his almighty dreadfull little might.

Well, I will loue, write, sigh, pray, shue, grone, Some men must loue
my Lady, and some Ione.

Actus Quartus.

Enter the Princesse, a Forrester, her Ladies, and her Lords.

Qu. Was that the King that spurd his horse so hard, Against the
steepe vprising of the hill?

Boy. I know not, but I thinke it was not he

Qu. Who ere a was, a shew'd a mounting minde: Well Lords, to day we
shall haue our dispatch, On Saterday we will returne to France.

Then Forrester my friend, Where is the Bush That we must stand and play
the murtherer in?   For. Hereby vpon the edge of yonder Coppice, A
stand where you may make the fairest shoote

Qu. I thanke my beautie, I am faire that shoote, And thereupon thou
speak'st the fairest shoote

For. Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so

Qu. What, what? First praise me, & then again say no. O short liu'd
pride. Not faire? alacke for woe

For. Yes Madam faire

Qu. Nay, neuer paint me now,

Where faire is not, praise cannot mend the brow. Here (good my glasse)
take this for telling true: Faire paiment for foule words, is more then
due

For. Nothing but faire is that which you inherit

Qu. See, see, my beautie will be sau'd by merit. O heresie in faire,
fit for these dayes,

A giuing hand, though foule, shall haue faire praise. But come, the
Bow: Now Mercie goes to kill, And shooting well, is then accounted ill:
Thus will I saue my credit in the shoote, Not wounding, pittie would
not let me do't: If wounding, then it was to shew my skill, That more
for praise, then purpose meant to kill. And out of question, so it is
sometimes:

Glory growes guiltie of detested crimes,

When for Fames sake, for praise an outward part, We bend to that, the
working of the hart. As I for praise alone now seeke to spill

The poore Deeres blood, that my heart meanes no ill

Boy. Do not curst wiues hold that selfe-soueraigntie Onely for
praise sake, when they striue to be Lords ore their Lords?

Qu. Onely for praise, and praise we may afford, To any Lady that
subdewes a Lord.

Enter Clowne.

Boy. Here comes a member of the common-wealth

Clo. God dig-you-den all, pray you which is the head Lady?

Qu. Thou shalt know her fellow, by the rest that haue no heads

Clo. Which is the greatest Lady, the highest?   Qu. The thickest,
and the tallest

Clo. The thickest, & the tallest: it is so, truth is truth. And your
waste Mistris, were as slender as my wit, One a these Maides girdles
for your waste should be fit. Are not you the chiefe woma[n]? You are
the thickest here?   Qu. What's your will sir? What's your will?   Clo.
I haue a Letter from Monsier Berowne, To one Lady Rosaline

Qu. O thy letter, thy letter: He's a good friend of mine. Stand a
side good bearer.

Boyet, you can carue,

Breake vp this Capon

Boyet. I am bound to serue.

This Letter is mistooke: it importeth none here: It is writ to
Iaquenetta

Qu. We will read it, I sweare.

Breake the necke of the Waxe, and euery one giue eare

Boyet reades. By heauen, that thou art faire, is most infallible:
true

that thou art beauteous, truth it selfe that thou art louely: more
fairer then faire, beautifull then beautious, truer then truth it
selfe: haue comiseration on thy heroicall Vassall. The magnanimous and
most illustrate King Cophetua set eie vpon the pernicious and
indubitate Begger Zenelophon: and he it was that might rightly say,
Veni, vidi, vici: Which to annothanize in the vulgar, O base and
obscure vulgar; videliset, He came, See, and ouercame: hee came one;
see, two; ouercame three:

Who came? the King. Why did he come? to see. Why did he see? to
ouercome. To whom came he? to the Begger. What saw he? the Begger. Who
ouercame he? the Begger. The conclusion is victorie: On whose side? the
King: the captiue is inricht: On whose side? the Beggers. The
catastrophe is a Nuptiall: on whose side? the Kings: no, on both in
one, or one in both. I am the King (for so stands the comparison) thou
the Begger, for so witnesseth thy lowlinesse. Shall I command thy loue?
I may. Shall I enforce thy loue? I could. Shall I entreate thy loue? I
will. What, shalt thou exchange for ragges, roabes: for tittles titles,
for thy selfe mee. Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on thy
foote, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy euerie part.

Thine in the dearest designe of industrie, Don Adriana de Armatho.

Thus dost thou heare the Nemean Lion roare, Gainst thee thou Lambe,
that standest as his pray: Submissiue fall his princely feete before,
And he from forrage will incline to play. But if thou striue (poore
soule) what art thou then? Foode for his rage, repasture for his den

Qu. What plume of feathers is hee that indited this Letter? What
veine? What Wethercocke? Did you euer heare better?

Boy. I am much deceiued, but I remember the stile

Qu. Else your memorie is bad, going ore it erewhile

Boy. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court A
Phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport To the Prince and his
Booke-mates

Qu. Thou fellow, a word.

Who gaue thee this Letter?

Clow. I told you, my Lord

Qu. To whom should'st thou giue it?

Clo. From my Lord to my Lady

Qu. From which Lord, to which Lady?

Clo. From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine, To a Lady of
France, that he call'd Rosaline

Qu. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come Lords away. Here sweete, put
vp this, 'twill be thine another day.

Exeunt.

Boy. Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter?   Rosa. Shall I teach
you to know

Boy. I my continent of beautie

Rosa. Why she that beares the Bow. Finely put off

Boy. My Lady goes to kill hornes, but if thou marrie, Hang me by the
necke, if hornes that yeare miscarrie. Finely put on

Rosa. Well then, I am the shooter

Boy. And who is your Deare?

Rosa. If we choose by the hornes, your selfe come not neare. Finely
put on indeede

Maria. You still wrangle with her Boyet, and shee strikes at the
brow

Boyet. But she her selfe is hit lower: Haue I hit her now

Rosa. Shall I come vpon thee with an old saying, that was a man when
King Pippin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it

Boyet. So I may answere thee with one as old that was a woman when
Queene Guinouer of Brittaine was a little wench, as touching the hit
it

Rosa. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, Thou canst not hit it
my good man

Boy. I cannot, cannot, cannot:

And I cannot, another can.

Enter.

Clo. By my troth most pleasant, how both did fit it

Mar. A marke marueilous well shot, for they both did hit

Boy. A mark, O marke but that marke: a marke saies my Lady.

Let the mark haue a pricke in't, to meat at, if it may be

Mar. Wide a'th bow hand, yfaith your hand is out

Clo. Indeede a' must shoote nearer, or heele ne're hit the clout

Boy. And if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in

Clo. Then will shee get the vpshoot by cleauing the is in

Ma. Come, come, you talke greasely, your lips grow foule

Clo. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir challenge her to boule

Boy. I feare too much rubbing: good night my good Oule

Clo. By my soule a Swaine, a most simple Clowne. Lord, Lord, how the
Ladies and I haue put him downe. O my troth most sweete iests, most
inconie vulgar wit, When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it
were, so fit.

Armathor ath to the side, O a most dainty man. To see him walke before
a Lady, and to beare her Fan. To see him kisse his hand, and how most
sweetly a will sweare:

And his Page atother side, that handfull of wit, Ah heauens, it is most
patheticall nit.

Sowla, sowla.

Exeunt. Shoote within.

Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel.

Nat. Very reuerent sport truely, and done in the testimony of a good
conscience

Ped. The Deare was (as you know) sanguis in blood, ripe as a
Pomwater who now hangeth like a Iewell in the eare of Celo the skie;
the welken the heauen, and anon falleth like a Crab on the face of
Terra, the soyle, the land, the earth

Curat.Nath. Truely M[aster]. Holofernes, the epythithes are sweetly
varied like a scholler at the least: but sir I assure ye, it was a
Bucke of the first head

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo

Dul. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket

Hol. Most barbarous intimation: yet a kinde of insinuation, as it
were in via, in way of explication facere: as it were replication, or
rather ostentare, to show as it were his inclination after his
vndressed, vnpolished, vneducated, vnpruned, vntrained, or rather
vnlettered, or ratherest vnconfirmed fashion, to insert againe my haud
credo for a Deare

Dul. I said the Deare was not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket

Hol. Twice sod simplicitie, bis coctus, O thou monster Ignorance,
how deformed doost thou looke

Nath. Sir hee hath neuer fed of the dainties that are bred in a
booke.

He hath not eate paper as it were:

He hath not drunke inke.

His intellect is not replenished, hee is onely an animall, onely
sensible in the duller parts: and such barren plants are set before vs,
that we thankfull should be: which we taste and feeling, are for those
parts that doe fructifie in vs more then he.

For as it would ill become me to be vaine, indiscreet, or a foole;

So were there a patch set on Learning, to see him in a Schoole.

But omne bene say I, being of an old Fathers minde, Many can brooke the
weather, that loue not the winde

Dul. You two are book-men: Can you tell by your wit, What was a
month old at Cains birth, that's not fiue weekes old as yet?

Hol. Dictisima goodman Dull, dictisima goodman Dull

Dul. What is dictima?

Nath. A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moone

Hol. The Moone was a month old when Adam was no more.

And wrought not to fiue-weekes when he came to fiuescore. Th' allusion
holds in the Exchange

Dul. 'Tis true indeede, the Collusion holds in the Exchange

Hol. God comfort thy capacity, I say th' allusion holds in the
Exchange

Dul. And I say the polusion holds in the Exchange: for the Moone is
neuer but a month old: and I say beside that, 'twas a Pricket that the
Princesse kill'd

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you heare an extemporall Epytaph on the
death of the Deare, and to humour the ignorant call'd the Deare, the
Princesse kill'd a Pricket

Nath. Perge, good M[aster]. Holofernes, perge, so it shall please
you to abrogate scurilitie

Hol. I will something affect a letter, for it argues facilitie.

The prayfull Princesse pearst and prickt

a prettie pleasing Pricket,

Some say a Sore, but not a sore,

till now made sore with shooting.

The Dogges did yell, put ell to Sore,

then Sorrell iumps from thicket:

Or Pricket-sore, or else Sorell,

the people fall a hooting.

If Sore be sore, than ell to Sore,

makes fiftie sores O sorell:

Of one sore I an hundred make

by adding but one more L

Nath. A rare talent

Dul. If a talent be a claw, looke how he clawes him with a talent

Nath. This is a gift that I haue simple: simple, a foolish
extrauagant spirit, full of formes, figures, shapes, obiects, Ideas,
apprehensions, motions, reuolutions. These are begot in the ventricle
of memorie, nourisht in the wombe of primater, and deliuered vpon the
mellowing of occasion: but the gift is good in those in whom it is
acute, and I am thankfull for it

Hol. Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my parishioners, for
their Sonnes are well tutor'd by you, and their Daughters profit very
greatly vnder you: you are a good member of the common-wealth

Nath. Me hercle, If their Sonnes be ingenuous, they shall want no
instruction: If their Daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But
Vir sapis qui pauca loquitur, a soule Feminine saluteth vs.

Enter Iaquenetta and the Clowne.

Iaqu. God giue you good morrow M[aster]. Person

Nath. Master Person, quasi Person? And if one should be perst, Which
is the one?

Clo. Marry M[aster]. Schoolemaster, hee that is likest to a hogshead

Nath. Of persing a Hogshead, a good luster of conceit in a turph of
Earth, Fire enough for a Flint, Pearle enough for a Swine: 'tis
prettie, it is well

Iaqu. Good Master Parson be so good as reade mee this Letter, it was
giuen mee by Costard, and sent mee from Don Armatho: I beseech you read
it

Nath. Facile precor gellida, quando pecas omnia sub vmbra ruminat,
and so forth. Ah good old Mantuan, I may speake of thee as the
traueiler doth of Venice, vemchie, vencha, que non te vnde, que non te
perreche. Old Mantuan, old Mantuan. Who vnderstandeth thee not, vt re
sol la mi fa: Vnder pardon sir, What are the contents? or rather as
Horrace sayes in his, What my soule verses

Hol. I sir, and very learned

Nath. Let me heare a staffe, a stanze, a verse, Lege domine. If Loue
make me forsworne, how shall I sweare to loue? Ah neuer faith could
hold, if not to beautie vowed. Though to my selfe forsworn, to thee Ile
faithfull proue. Those thoughts to mee were Okes, to thee like Osiers
bowed.

Studie his byas leaues, and makes his booke thine eyes. Where all those
pleasures liue, that Art would comprehend. If knowledge be the marke,
to know thee shall suffice. Well learned is that tongue, that well can
thee co[m]mend. All ignorant that soule, that sees thee without wonder.
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire; Thy eye Ioues
lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadfull thunder.

Which not to anger bent, is musique, and sweete fire. Celestiall as
thou art, Oh pardon loue this wrong, That sings heauens praise, with
such an earthly tongue

Ped. You finde not the apostraphas, and so misse the accent. Let me
superuise the cangenet

Nath. Here are onely numbers ratified, but for the elegancy,
facility, & golden cadence of poesie caret: Ouiddius Naso was the man.
And why in deed Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of
fancy? the ierkes of inuention imitarie is nothing: So doth the Hound
his master, the Ape his keeper, the tyred Horse his rider: But
Damosella virgin, Was this directed to you?

Iaq. I sir from one mounsier Berowne, one of the strange Queenes
Lords

Nath. I will ouerglance the superscript. To the snow-white hand of
the most beautious Lady Rosaline. I will looke againe on the intellect
of the Letter, for the nomination of the partie written to the person
written vnto.

Your Ladiships in all desired imployment, Berowne

Ped. Sir Holofernes, this Berowne is one of the Votaries with the
King, and here he hath framed a Letter to a sequent of the stranger
Queens: which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath
miscarried. Trip and goe my sweete, deliuer this Paper into the hand of
the King, it may concerne much: stay not thy complement, I forgiue thy
duetie, adue

Maid. Good Costard go with me:

Sir God saue your life

Cost. Haue with thee my girle.

Enter.

Hol. Sir you haue done this in the feare of God very religiously: and
as a certaine Father saith   Ped. Sir tell not me of the Father, I do
feare colourable colours. But to returne to the Verses, Did they please
you sir Nathaniel?

Nath. Marueilous well for the pen

Peda. I do dine to day at the fathers of a certaine Pupill of mine,
where if (being repast) it shall please you to gratifie the table with
a Grace, I will on my priuiledge I haue with the parents of the
foresaid Childe or Pupill, vndertake your bien venuto, where I will
proue those Verses to be very vnlearned, neither sauouring of Poetrie,
Wit, nor Inuention. I beseech your Societie

Nat. And thanke you to: for societie (saith the text) is the
happinesse of life

Peda. And certes the text most infallibly concludes it. Sir I do
inuite you too, you shall not say me nay: pauca verba.

Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation.

Exeunt.

Enter Berowne with a Paper in his hand, alone.

Bero. The King he is hunting the Deare, I am coursing my selfe.

They haue pitcht a Toyle, I am toyling in a pytch, pitch that defiles;
defile, a foule word: Well, set thee downe sorrow; for so they say the
foole said, and so say I, and I the foole: Well proued wit. By the Lord
this Loue is as mad as Aiax, it kils sheepe, it kils mee, I a sheepe:
Well proued againe a my side. I will not loue; if I do hang me: yfaith
I will not. O but her eye: by this light, but for her eye, I would not
loue her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I doe nothing in the world but
lye, and lye in my throate. By heauen I doe loue, and it hath taught
mee to Rime, and to be mallicholie: and here is part of my Rime, and
heere my mallicholie. Well, she hath one a'my Sonnets already, the
Clowne bore it, the Foole sent it, and the Lady hath it: sweet Clowne,
sweeter Foole, sweetest Lady. By the world, I would not care a pin, if
the other three were in. Here comes one with a paper, God giue him
grace to grone.

He stands aside. The King entreth.

Kin. Ay mee!

Ber. Shot by heauen: proceede sweet Cupid, thou hast thumpt him with
thy Birdbolt vnder the left pap: in faith secrets

King. So sweete a kisse the golden Sunne giues not, To those fresh
morning drops vpon the Rose, As thy eye beames, when their fresh rayse
haue smot. The night of dew that on my cheekes downe flowes. Nor shines
the siluer Moone one halfe so bright, Through the transparent bosome of
the deepe, As doth thy face through teares of mine giue light: Thou
shin'st in euery teare that I doe weepe, No drop, but as a Coach doth
carry thee:

So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.

Do but behold the teares that swell in me, And they thy glory through
my griefe will show: But doe not loue thy selfe, then thou wilt keepe
My teares for glasses, and still make me weepe. O Queene of Queenes,
how farre dost thou excell, No thought can thinke, nor tongue of
mortall tell. How shall she know my griefes? Ile drop the paper. Sweete
leaues shade folly. Who is he comes heere? Enter Longauile. The King
steps aside.

What Longauill, and reading: listen eare

Ber. Now in thy likenesse, one more foole appeare

Long. Ay me, I am forsworne

Ber. Why he comes in like a periure, wearing papers

Long. In loue I hope, sweet fellowship in shame

Ber. One drunkard loues another of the name

Lon. Am I the first y haue been periur'd so?   Ber. I could put thee
in comfort, not by two that I know, Thou makest the triumphery, the
corner cap of societie, The shape of Loues Tiburne, that hangs vp
simplicitie

Lon. I feare these stubborn lines lack power to moue. O sweet Maria,
Empresse of my Loue,

These numbers will I teare, and write in prose

Ber. O Rimes are gards on wanton Cupids hose, Disfigure not his
Shop

Lon. This same shall goe.

He reades the Sonnet.

Did not the heauenly Rhetoricke of thine eye, 'Gainst whom the world
cannot hold argument, Perswade my heart to this false periurie? Vowes
for thee broke deserue not punishment. A Woman I forswore, but I will
proue,

Thou being a Goddesse, I forswore not thee. My Vow was earthly, thou a
heauenly Loue. Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me. Vowes
are but breath, and breath a vapour is. Then thou faire Sun, which on
my earth doest shine, Exhalest this vapor-vow, in thee it is:

If broken then, it is no fault of mine:

If by me broke, What foole is not so wise, To loose an oath, to win a
Paradise?

Ber. This is the liuer veine, which makes flesh a deity. A greene
Goose, a Goddesse, pure pure Idolatry. God amend vs, God amend, we are
much out o'th' way. Enter Dumaine.

Lon. By whom shall I send this (company?) Stay

Bero. All hid, all hid, an old infant play, Like a demie God, here
sit I in the skie, And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore-eye. More
Sacks to the myll. O heauens I haue my wish, Dumaine transform'd, foure
Woodcocks in a dish

Dum. O most diuine Kate

Bero. O most prophane coxcombe

Dum. By heauen the wonder of a mortall eye

Bero. By earth she is not, corporall, there you lye

Dum. Her Amber haires for foule hath amber coted

Ber. An Amber coloured Rauen was well noted

Dum. As vpright as the Cedar

Ber. Stoope I say, her shoulder is with-child

Dum. As faire as day

Ber. I as some daies, but then no sunne must shine

Dum. O that I had my wish?

Lon. And I had mine

Kin. And mine too good Lord

Ber. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word?   Dum. I would
forget her, but a Feuer she Raignes in my bloud, and will remembred be

Ber. A Feuer in your bloud, why then incision Would let her out in
Sawcers, sweet misprision

Dum. Once more Ile read the Ode that I haue writ

Ber. Once more Ile marke how Loue can varry Wit.

Dumane reades his Sonnet.

On a day, alack the day:

Loue, whose Month is euery May,

Spied a blossome passing faire,

Playing in the wanton ayre:

Through the Veluet, leaues the winde,

All vnseene, can passage finde.

That the Louer sicke to death,

Wish himselfe the heauens breath.

Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blowe,

Ayre, would I might triumph so.

But alacke my hand is sworne,

Nere to plucke thee from thy throne:

Vow alacke for youth vnmeete,

youth so apt to plucke a sweet.

Doe not call it sinne in me,

That I am forsworne for thee.

Thou for whom Ioue would sweare,

Iuno but an aethiop were,

And denie himselfe for Ioue.

Turning mortall for thy Loue.

This will I send, and something else more plaine. That shall expresse
my true-loues fasting paine. O would the King, Berowne and Longauill,

Were Louers too, ill to example ill,

Would from my forehead wipe a periur'd note: For none offend, where all
alike doe dote

Lon. Dumaine, thy Loue is farre from charitie, That in Loues griefe
desir'st societie:

You may looke pale, but I should blush I know, To be ore-heard, and
taken napping so

Kin. Come sir, you blush: as his, your case is such, You chide at
him, offending twice as much. You doe not loue Maria? Longauile,

Did neuer Sonnet for her sake compile;

Nor neuer lay his wreathed armes athwart

His louing bosome, to keepe downe his heart. I haue beene closely
shrowded in this bush, And markt you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty Rimes, obseru'd your fashion: Saw sighes reeke from
you, noted well your passion. Aye me, sayes one! O Ioue, the other
cries! On her haires were Gold, Christall the others eyes. You would
for Paradise breake Faith and troth, And Ioue for your Loue would
infringe an oath. What will Berowne say when that he shall heare Faith
infringed, which such zeale did sweare. How will he scorne? how will he
spend his wit? How will he triumph, leape, and laugh at it? For all the
wealth that euer I did see,

I would not haue him know so much by me

Bero. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisie. Ah good my Liedge, I pray
thee pardon me. Good heart, What grace hast thou thus to reproue These
wormes for louing, that art most in loue? Your eyes doe make no couches
in your teares. There is no certaine Princesse that appeares. You'll
not be periur'd, 'tis a hatefull thing: Tush, none but Minstrels like
of Sonnetting. But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not All three of
you, to be thus much ore'shot? You found his Moth, the King your Moth
did see: But I a Beame doe finde in each of three. O what a Scene of
fool'ry haue I seene.

Of sighes, of grones, of sorrow, and of teene: O me, with what strict
patience haue I sat, To see a King transformed to a Gnat?

To see great Hercules whipping a Gigge,

And profound Salomon tuning a Iygge?

And Nestor play at push-pin with the boyes, And Critticke Tymon laugh
at idle toyes.

Where lies thy griefe? O tell me good Dumaine; And gentle Longauill,
where lies thy paine? And where my Liedges? all about the brest: A
Candle hoa!

Kin. Too bitter is thy iest.

Are wee betrayed thus to thy ouer-view?

Ber. Not you by me, but I betrayed to you. I that am honest, I that
hold it sinne

To breake the vow I am ingaged in.

I am betrayed by keeping company

With men, like men of inconstancie.

When shall you see me write a thing in rime? Or grone for Ioane? or
spend a minutes time, In pruning mee, when shall you heare that I will
praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye: a gate, a state, a brow, a
brest, a waste, a legge, a limme

Kin. Soft, Whither away so fast?

A true man, or a theefe, that gallops so

Ber. I post from Loue, good Louer let me go. Enter Iaquenetta and
Clowne.

Iaqu. God blesse the King

Kin. What Present hast thou there?

Clo. Some certaine treason

Kin. What makes treason heere?

Clo. Nay it makes nothing sir

Kin. If it marre nothing neither,

The treason and you goe in peace away together

Iaqu. I beseech your Grace let this Letter be read, Our person
mis-doubts it: it was treason he said

Kin. Berowne, read it ouer.

He reades the Letter.

Kin. Where hadst thou it?

Iaqu. Of Costard

King. Where hadst thou it?

Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio

Kin. How now, what is in you? why dost thou tear it?   Ber. A toy my
Liedge, a toy: your grace needes not feare it

Long. It did moue him to passion, and therefore let's heare it

Dum. It is Berowns writing, and heere is his name

Ber. Ah you whoreson loggerhead, you were borne to doe me shame.

Guilty my Lord, guilty: I confesse, I confesse

Kin. What?

Ber. That you three fooles, lackt mee foole, to make vp the messe.

He, he, and you: and you my Liedge, and I, Are picke-purses in Loue,
and we deserue to die. O dismisse this audience, and I shall tell you
more

Dum. Now the number is euen

Berow. True true, we are fowre: will these Turtles be gone?

Kin. Hence sirs, away

Clo. Walk aside the true folke, & let the traytors stay

Ber. Sweet Lords, sweet Louers, O let vs imbrace, As true we are as
flesh and bloud can be, The Sea will ebbe and flow, heauen will shew
his face: Young bloud doth not obey an old decree.

We cannot crosse the cause why we are borne: Therefore of all hands
must we be forsworne

King. What, did these rent lines shew some loue of thine?

Ber. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heauenly Rosaline, That (like
a rude and sauage man of Inde.)

At the first opening of the gorgeous East, Bowes not his vassall head,
and strooken blinde, Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? What
peremptory Eagle-sighted eye

Dares looke vpon the heauen of her brow,

That is not blinded by her maiestie?

Kin. What zeale, what furie, hath inspir'd thee now? My Loue (her
Mistres) is a gracious Moone, Shee (an attending Starre) scarce seene a
light

Ber. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne. O, but for my Loue,
day would turne to night, Of all complexions the cul'd soueraignty, Doe
meet as at a faire in her faire cheeke, Where seuerall Worthies make
one dignity, Where nothing wants, that want it selfe doth seeke. Lend
me the flourish of all gentle tongues, Fie painted Rethoricke, O she
needs it not, To things of sale, a sellers praise belongs: She passes
prayse, then prayse too short doth blot. A withered Hermite, fiuescore
winters worne, Might shake off fiftie, looking in her eye: Beauty doth
varnish Age, as if new borne, And giues the Crutch the Cradles
infancie. O 'tis the Sunne that maketh all things shine

King. By heauen, thy Loue is blacke as Ebonie

Berow. Is Ebonie like her? O word diuine? A wife of such wood were
felicite.

O who can giue an oth? Where is a booke?

That I may sweare Beauty doth beauty lacke, If that she learne not of
her eye to looke: No face is faire that is not full so blacke

Kin. O paradoxe, Blacke is the badge of hell, The hue of dungeons,
and the Schoole of night: And beauties crest becomes the heauens well

Ber. Diuels soonest tempt resembling spirits of light. O if in
blacke my Ladies browes be deckt, It mournes, that painting vsurping
haire

Should rauish doters with a false aspect: And therfore is she borne to
make blacke, faire. Her fauour turnes the fashion of the dayes, For
natiue bloud is counted painting now: And therefore red that would
auoyd dispraise, Paints it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow

Dum. To look like her are Chimny-sweepers blacke

Lon. And since her time, are Colliers counted bright

King. And Aethiops of their sweet complexion crake

Dum. Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light

Ber. Your mistresses dare neuer come in raine, For feare their
colours should be washt away

Kin. 'Twere good yours did: for sir to tell you plaine, Ile finde a
fairer face not washt to day

Ber. Ile proue her faire, or talke till dooms-day here

Kin. No Diuell will fright thee then so much as shee

Duma. I neuer knew man hold vile stuffe so deere

Lon. Looke, heer's thy loue, my foot and her face see

Ber. O if the streets were paued with thine eyes, Her feet were much
too dainty for such tread

Duma. O vile, then as she goes what vpward lyes? The street should
see as she walk'd ouer head

Kin. But what of this, are we not all in loue?   Ber. O nothing so
sure, and thereby all forsworne

Kin. Then leaue this chat, & good Berown now proue Our louing
lawfull, and our fayth not torne

Dum. I marie there, some flattery for this euill

Long. O some authority how to proceed, Some tricks, some quillets,
how to cheat the diuell

Dum. Some salue for periurie,

Ber. O 'tis more then neede.

Haue at you then affections men at armes, Consider what you first did
sweare vnto:

To fast, to study, and to see no woman:

Flat treason against the Kingly state of youth. Say, Can you fast? your
stomacks are too young: And abstinence ingenders maladies.

And where that you haue vow'd to studie (Lords) In that each of you
haue forsworne his Booke. Can you still dreame and pore, and thereon
looke. For when would you my Lord, or you, or you, Haue found the
ground of studies excellence, Without the beauty of a womans face;

From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue,

They are the Ground, the Bookes, the Achadems, From whence doth spring
the true Promethean fire. Why, vniuersall plodding poysons vp

The nimble spirits in the arteries,

As motion and long during action tyres

The sinnowy vigour of the trauailer.

Now for not looking on a womans face,

You haue in that forsworne the vse of eyes: And studie too, the causer
of your vow.

For where is any Author in the world,

Teaches such beauty as a womans eye:

Learning is but an adiunct to our selfe,

And where we are, our Learning likewise is. Then when our selues we see
in Ladies eyes, With our selues.

Doe we not likewise see our learning there? O we haue made a Vow to
studie, Lords,

And in that vow we haue forsworne our Bookes: For when would you (my
Leege) or you, or you? In leaden contemplation haue found out

Such fiery Numbers as the prompting eyes, Of beauties tutors haue
inrich'd you with: Other slow Arts intirely keepe the braine: And
therefore finding barraine practizers, Scarce shew a haruest of their
heauy toyle. But Loue first learned in a Ladies eyes,

Liues not alone emured in the braine:

But with the motion of all elements,

Courses as swift as thought in euery power, And giues to euery power a
double power,

Aboue their functions and their offices.

It addes a precious seeing to the eye:

A Louers eyes will gaze an Eagle blinde.

A Louers eare will heare the lowest sound. When the suspicious head of
theft is stopt. Loues feeling is more soft and sensible,

Then are the tender hornes of Cockle Snayles. Loues tongue proues
dainty, Bachus grosse in taste, For Valour, is not Loue a Hercules?

Still climing trees in the Hesperides.

Subtill as Sphinx, as sweet and musicall, As bright Apollo's Lute,
strung with his haire. And when Loue speakes, the voyce of all the
Gods, Make heauen drowsie with the harmonie.

Neuer durst Poet touch a pen to write,

Vntill his Inke were tempred with Loues sighes: O then his lines would
rauish sauage eares, And plant in Tyrants milde humilitie.

From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue.

They sparcle still the right promethean fire, They are the Bookes, the
Arts, the Achademes, That shew, containe, and nourish all the world.
Else none at all in ought proues excellent. Then fooles you were these
women to forsweare: Or keeping what is sworne, you will proue fooles,
For Wisedomes sake, a word that all men loue: Or for Loues sake, a word
that loues all men. Or for Mens sake, the author of these Women: Or
Womens sake, by whom we men are Men.

Let's once loose our oathes to finde our selues, Or else we loose our
selues, to keepe our oathes: It is religion to be thus forsworne.

For Charity it selfe fulfills the Law:

And who can seuer loue from Charity

Kin. Saint Cupid then, and Souldiers to the field

Ber. Aduance your standards, & vpon them Lords, Pell, mell, downe
with them: but be first aduis'd, In conflict that you get the Sunne of
them

Long. Now to plaine dealing, Lay these glozes by, Shall we resolue
to woe these girles of France?   Kin. And winne them too, therefore let
vs deuise, Some entertainment for them in their Tents

Ber. First from the Park let vs conduct them thither, Then homeward
euery man attach the hand

Of his faire Mistresse, in the afternoone We will with some strange
pastime solace them: Such as the shortnesse of the time can shape, For
Reuels, Dances, Maskes, and merry houres, Fore-runne faire Loue,
strewing her way with flowres

Kin. Away, away, no time shall be omitted, That will be time, and
may by vs be fitted

Ber. Alone, alone sowed Cockell, reap'd no Corne, And Iustice
alwaies whirles in equall measure: Light Wenches may proue plagues to
men forsworne, If so, our Copper buyes no better treasure.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus.

Enter the Pedant, Curate and Dull.

Pedant. Satis quid sufficit

Curat. I praise God for you sir, your reasons at dinner haue beene
sharpe & sententious: pleasant without scurrillity, witty without
affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and
strange without heresie: I did conuerse this quondam day with a
companion of the Kings, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don
Adriano de Armatho

Ped. Noui hominum tanquam te, His humour is lofty, his discourse
peremptorie: his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gate maiesticall,
and his generall behauiour vaine, ridiculous, and thrasonicall. He is
too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odde, as it were, too
peregrinat, as I may call it

Curat. A most singular and choise Epithat,

Draw out his Table-booke.

Peda. He draweth out the thred of his verbositie, finer then the
staple of his argument. I abhor such phanaticall phantasims, such
insociable and poynt deuise companions, such rackers of ortagriphie, as
to speake dout fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he shold
pronounce debt; debt, not det: he clepeth a Calf, Caufe: halfe, haufe:
neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh abreuiated ne: this is abhominable,
which he would call abhominable it insinuateth me of infamie: ne
inteligis domine, to make franticke, lunaticke?

Cura. Laus deo, bene intelligo

Peda. Bome boon for boon prescian, a little scratcht, 'twil serue.

Enter Bragart, Boy.

Curat. Vides ne quis venit?

Peda. Video, & gaudio

Brag. Chirra

Peda. Quari Chirra, not Sirra?

Brag. Men of peace well incountred

Ped. Most millitarie sir salutation

Boy. They haue beene at a great feast of Languages, and stolne the
scraps

Clow. O they haue liu'd long on the almes-basket of words. I maruell
thy M[aster]. hath not eaten thee for a word, for thou art not so long
by the head as

honorificabilitu%dinitatibus:

Thou art easier swallowed then a flapdragon

Page. Peace, the peale begins

Brag. Mounsier, are you not lettred?

Page. Yes, yes, he teaches boyes the Horne-booke: What is Ab speld
backward with the horn on his head?   Peda. Ba, puericia with a horne
added

Pag. Ba most seely Sheepe, with a horne: you heare his learning

Peda. Quis quis, thou Consonant?

Pag. The last of the fiue Vowels if You repeat them, or the fift if
I

Peda. I will repeat them: a e I

Pag. The Sheepe, the other two concludes it o u

Brag. Now by the salt waue of the mediteranium, a sweet tutch, a
quicke venewe of wit, snip snap, quick & home, it reioyceth my
intellect, true wit

Page. Offered by a childe to an olde man: which is wit-old

Peda. What is the figure? What is the figure?   Page. Hornes

Peda. Thou disputes like an Infant: goe whip thy Gigge

Pag. Lend me your Horne to make one, and I will whip about your
Infamie vnum cita a gigge of a Cuckolds horne

Clow. And I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst haue it to
buy Ginger bread: Hold, there is the very Remuneration I had of thy
Maister, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou Pidgeon-egge of discretion.
O & the heauens were so pleased, that thou wert but my Bastard; What a
ioyfull father wouldst thou make mee? Goe to, thou hast it ad dungil,
at the fingers ends, as they say

Peda. Oh I smell false Latine, dunghel for vnguem

Brag. Arts-man preambulat, we will bee singled from the barbarous.
Do you not educate youth at the Charghouse on the top of the
Mountaine?

Peda. Or Mons the hill

Brag. At your sweet pleasure, for the Mountaine

Peda. I doe sans question

Bra. Sir, it is the Kings most sweet pleasure and affection, to
congratulate the Princesse at her Pauilion, in the posteriors of this
day, which the rude multitude call the after-noone

Ped. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable,
congruent, and measurable for the after-noone: the word is well culd,
chose, sweet, and apt I doe assure you sir, I doe assure

Brag. Sir, the King is a noble Gentleman, and my familiar, I doe
assure ye very good friend: for what is inward betweene vs, let it
passe. I doe beseech thee remember thy curtesie. I beseech thee
apparell thy head: and among other importunate & most serious designes,
and of great import indeed too: but let that passe, for I must tell
thee it will please his Grace (by the world) sometime to leane vpon my
poore shoulder, and with his royall finger thus dallie with my
excrement, with my mustachio: but sweet heart let that passe. By the
world I recount no fable, some certaine speciall honours it pleaseth
his greatnesse to impart to Armado a Souldier, a man of trauell, that
hath seene the world: but let that passe; the very all of all is: but
sweet heart I do implore secrecie, that the King would haue mee present
the Princesse (sweet chucke) with some delightfull ostentation, or
show, or pageant, or anticke, or fire-worke: Now, vnderstanding that
the Curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions, and sodaine
breaking out of myrth (as it were) I haue acquainted you withall, to
the end to craue your assistance

Peda. Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. Sir
Holofernes, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the
posterior of this day, to bee rendred by our assistants the Kings
command: and this most gallant, illustrate and learned Gentleman,
before the Princesse: I say none so fit as to present the Nine
Worthies

Curat. Where will you finde men worthy enough to present them?

Peda. Iosua, your selfe: my selfe, and this gallant gentleman Iudas
Machabeus; this Swaine (because of his great limme or ioynt) shall
passe Pompey the great, the Page Hercules

Brag. Pardon sir, error: He is not quantitie enough for that
Worthies thumb, hee is not so big as the end of his Club

Peda. Shall I haue audience: he shall present Hercules in minoritie:
his enter and exit shall bee strangling a Snake; and I will haue an
Apologie for that purpose

Pag. An excellent deuice: so if any of the audience hisse, you may
cry, Well done Hercules, now thou crushest the Snake; that is the way
to make an offence gracious, though few haue the grace to doe it

Brag. For the rest of the Worthies?

Peda. I will play three my selfe

Pag. Thrice worthy Gentleman

Brag. Shall I tell you a thing?

Peda. We attend

Brag. We will haue, if this fadge not, an Antique. I beseech you
follow

Ped. Via good-man Dull, thou hast spoken no word all this while

Dull. Nor vnderstood none neither sir

Ped. Alone, we will employ thee

Dull. Ile make one in a dance, or so: or I will play on the taber to
the Worthies, & let them dance the hey

Ped. Most Dull, honest Dull, to our sport away. Enter.

Enter Ladies.

Qu. Sweet hearts we shall be rich ere we depart, If fairings come
thus plentifully in.

A Lady wal'd about with Diamonds: Look you, what I haue from the louing
King

Rosa. Madam, came nothing else along with that?   Qu. Nothing but
this: yes as much loue in Rime, As would be cram'd vp in a sheet of
paper Writ on both sides the leafe, margent and all, That he was faine
to seale on Cupids name

Rosa. That was the way to make his god-head wax: For he hath beene
fiue thousand yeeres a Boy

Kath. I, and a shrewd vnhappy gallowes too

Ros. You'll nere be friends with him, a kild your sister

Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heauy, and so she died: had
she beene Light like you, of such a merrie nimble stirring spirit, she
might a bin a Grandam ere she died. And so may you: For a light heart
liues long

Ros. What's your darke meaning mouse, of this light word?

Kat. A light condition in a beauty darke

Ros. We need more light to finde your meaning out

Kat. You'll marre the light by taking it in snuffe: Therefore Ile
darkely end the argument

Ros. Look what you doe, you doe it stil i'th darke

Kat. So do not you, for you are a light Wench

Ros. Indeed I waigh not you, and therefore light

Ka. You waigh me not, O that's you care not for me

Ros. Great reason: for past care, is still past cure

Qu. Well bandied both, a set of Wit well played. But Rosaline, you
haue a Fauour too?

Who sent it? and what is it?

Ros. I would you knew.

And if my face were but as faire as yours, My Fauour were as great, be
witnesse this. Nay, I haue Verses too, I thanke Berowne, The numbers
true, and were the numbring too. I were the fairest goddesse on the
ground. I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs.

O he hath drawne my picture in his letter

Qu. Any thing like?

Ros. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise

Qu. Beauteous as Incke: a good conclusion

Kat. Faire as a text B. in a Coppie booke

Ros. Ware pensals. How? Let me not die your debtor, My red
Dominicall, my golden letter.

O that your face were full of Oes

Qu. A Pox of that iest, and I beshrew all Shrowes: But Katherine,
what was sent to you

From faire Dumaine?

Kat. Madame, this Gloue

Qu. Did he not send you twaine?

Kat. Yes Madame: and moreouer,

Some thousand Verses of a faithfull Louer. A huge translation of
hypocrisie,

Vildly compiled, profound simplicitie

Mar. This, and these Pearls, to me sent Longauile. The Letter is too
long by halfe a mile

Qu. I thinke no lesse: Dost thou wish in heart The Chaine were
longer, and the Letter short

Mar. I, or I would these hands might neuer part

Quee. We are wise girles to mocke our Louers so

Ros. They are worse fooles to purchase mocking so. That same Berowne
ile torture ere I goe.

O that I knew he were but in by th' weeke, How I would make him fawne,
and begge, and seeke, And wait the season, and obserue the times, And
spend his prodigall wits in booteles rimes, And shape his seruice
wholly to my deuice, And make him proud to make me proud that iests. So
pertaunt like would I o'resway his state, That he shold be my foole,
and I his fate

Qu. None are so surely caught, when they are catcht, As Wit turn'd
foole, follie in Wisedome hatch'd: Hath wisedoms warrant, and the helpe
of Schoole, And Wits owne grace to grace a learned Foole?   Ros. The
bloud of youth burns not with such excesse, As grauities reuolt to
wantons be

Mar. Follie in Fooles beares not so strong a note, As fool'ry in the
Wise, when Wit doth dote: Since all the power thereof it doth apply, To
proue by Wit, worth in simplicitie.

Enter Boyet.

Qu. Heere comes Boyet, and mirth in his face

Boy. O I am stab'd with laughter, Wher's her Grace?   Qu. Thy newes
Boyet?

Boy. Prepare Madame, prepare.

Arme Wenches arme, incounters mounted are, Against your Peace, Loue
doth approach, disguis'd: Armed in arguments, you'll be surpriz'd.

Muster your Wits, stand in your owne defence, Or hide your heads like
Cowards, and flie hence

Qu. Saint Dennis to S[aint]. Cupid: What are they, That charge their
breath against vs? Say scout say

Boy. Vnder the coole shade of a Siccamore, I thought to close mine
eyes some halfe an houre: When lo to interrupt my purpos'd rest,

Toward that shade I might behold addrest, The King and his companions:
warely

I stole into a neighbour thicket by,

And ouer-heard, what you shall ouer-heare: That by and by disguis'd
they will be heere. Their Herald is a pretty knauish Page:

That well by heart hath con'd his embassage, Action and accent did they
teach him there. Thus must thou speake, and thus thy body beare. And
euer and anon they made a doubt,

Presence maiesticall would put him out:

For quoth the King, an Angell shalt thou see: Yet feare not thou, but
speake audaciously. The Boy reply'd, An Angell is not euill:

I should haue fear'd her, had she beene a deuill. With that all
laugh'd, and clap'd him on the shoulder, Making the bold wagg by their
praises bolder. One rub'd his elboe thus, and fleer'd, and swore, A
better speech was neuer spoke before.

Another with his finger and his thumb,

Cry'd via, we will doo't, come what will come. The third he caper'd and
cried, All goes well. The fourth turn'd on the toe, and downe he fell:
With that they all did tumble on the ground, With such a zelous
laughter so profound,

That in this spleene ridiculous appeares, To checke their folly
passions solemne teares

Que. But what, but what, come they to visit vs?   Boy. They do, they
do; and are apparel'd thus, Like Muscouites; or Russians, as I gesse.
Their purpose is to parlee, to court, and dance, And euery one his
Loue-feat will aduance, Vnto his seuerall mistresse: which they'll know
By fauours seuerall, which they did bestow

Queen. And will they so? the Gallants shall be taskt: For Ladies; we
will euery one be maskt,

And not a man of them shall haue the grace Despight of sute, to see a
Ladies face.

Hold Rosaline, this Fauour thou shalt weare, And then the King will
court thee for his Deare: Hold, take thou this my sweet, and giue me
thine, So shall Berowne take me for Rosaline.

And change your Fauours too, so shall your Loues Woo contrary, deceiu'd
by these remoues

Rosa. Come on then, weare the fauours most in sight

Kath. But in this changing, What is your intent?   Queen. The effect
of my intent is to crosse theirs: They doe it but in mocking
merriment,

And mocke for mocke is onely my intent.

Their seuerall counsels they vnbosome shall, To Loues mistooke, and so
be mockt withall. Vpon the next occasion that we meete,

With Visages displayd to talke and greete

Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire vs too't?   Quee. No, to the
death we will not moue a foot, Nor to their pen'd speech render we no
grace: But while 'tis spoke, each turne away his face

Boy. Why that contempt will kill the keepers heart, And quite
diuorce his memory from his part

Quee. Therefore I doe it, and I make no doubt, The rest will ere
come in, if he be out.

Theres no such sport, as sport by sport orethrowne: To make theirs
ours, and ours none but our owne. So shall we stay mocking entended
game,

And they well mockt, depart away with shame.

Sound.

Boy. The Trompet sounds, be maskt, the maskers come.

Enter Black moores with musicke, the Boy with a speech, and the rest
of

the Lords disguised.

Page. All haile, the richest Beauties on the earth

Ber. Beauties no richer then rich Taffata

Pag. A holy parcell of the fairest dames that euer turn'd their
backes to mortall viewes.

The Ladies turne their backes to him.

Ber. Their eyes villaine, their eyes

Pag. That euer turn'd their eyes to mortall viewes. Out

Boy. True, out indeed

Pag. Out of your fauours heauenly spirits vouchsafe Not to beholde

Ber. Once to behold, rogue

Pag. Once to behold with your Sunne beamed eyes, With your Sunne
beamed eyes

Boy. They will not answer to that Epythite, you were best call it
Daughter beamed eyes

Pag. They do not marke me, and that brings me out

Bero. Is this your perfectnesse? be gon you rogue

Rosa. What would these strangers?

Know their mindes Boyet.

If they doe speake our language, 'tis our will That some plaine man
recount their purposes. Know what they would?

Boyet. What would you with the Princes?   Ber. Nothing but peace, and
gentle visitation

Ros. What would they, say they?

Boy. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation

Rosa. Why that they haue, and bid them so be gon

Boy. She saies you haue it, and you may be gon

Kin. Say to her we haue measur'd many miles, To tread a Measure with
you on the grasse

Boy. They say that they haue measur'd many a mile, To tread a
Measure with you on this grasse

Rosa. It is not so. Aske them how many inches Is in one mile? If
they haue measur'd manie, The measure then of one is easlie told

Boy. If to come hither, you haue measur'd miles, And many miles: the
Princesse bids you tell, How many inches doth fill vp one mile?

Ber. Tell her we measure them by weary steps

Boy. She heares her selfe

Rosa. How manie wearie steps,

Of many wearie miles you haue ore-gone,

Are numbred in the trauell of one mile?

Bero. We number nothing that we spend for you, Our dutie is so rich,
so infinite,

That we may doe it still without accompt. Vouchsafe to shew the
sunshine of your face, That we (like sauages) may worship it

Rosa. My face is but a Moone and clouded too

Kin. Blessed are clouds, to doe as such clouds do. Vouchsafe bright
Moone, and these thy stars to shine, (Those clouds remooued) vpon our
waterie eyne

Rosa. O vaine peticioner, beg a greater matter, Thou now requests
but Mooneshine in the water

Kin. Then in our measure, vouchsafe but one change. Thou bidst me
begge, this begging is not strange

Rosa. Play musicke then: nay you must doe it soone. Not yet no
dance: thus change I like the Moone

Kin. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?   Rosa. You
tooke the Moone at full, but now shee's changed?

Kin. Yet still she is the Moone, and I the Man

Rosa. The musick playes, vouchsafe some motion to it: Our eares
vouchsafe it

Kin. But your legges should doe it

Ros. Since you are strangers, & come here by chance, Wee'll not be
nice, take hands, we will not dance

Kin. Why take you hands then?

Rosa. Onelie to part friends.

Curtsie sweet hearts, and so the Measure ends

Kin. More measure of this measure, be not nice

Rosa. We can afford no more at such a price

Kin. Prise your selues: What buyes your companie?   Rosa. Your
absence onelie

Kin. That can neuer be

Rosa. Then cannot we be bought: and so adue, Twice to your Visore,
and halfe once to you

Kin. If you denie to dance, let's hold more chat

Ros. In priuate then

Kin. I am best pleas'd with that

Be. White handed Mistris, one sweet word with thee

Qu. Hony, and Milke, and Suger: there is three

Ber. Nay then two treyes, an if you grow so nice Methegline, Wort,
and Malmsey; well runne dice: There's halfe a dozen sweets

Qu. Seuenth sweet adue, since you can cogg, Ile play no more with
you

Ber. One word in secret

Qu. Let it not be sweet

Ber. Thou greeu'st my gall

Qu. Gall, bitter

Ber. Therefore meete

Du. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?   Mar. Name it

Dum. Faire Ladie:

Mar. Say you so? Faire Lord:

Take you that for your faire Lady

Du. Please it you,

As much in priuate, and Ile bid adieu

Mar. What, was your vizard made without a tong?   Long. I know the
reason Ladie why you aske

Mar. O for your reason, quickly sir, I long

Long. You haue a double tongue within your mask, And would affoord
my speechlesse vizard halfe

Mar. Veale quoth the Dutch-man: is not Veale a Calfe?

Long. A Calfe faire Ladie?

Mar. No, a faire Lord Calfe

Long. Let's part the word

Mar. No, Ile not be your halfe:

Take all and weane it, it may proue an Oxe

Long. Looke how you but your selfe in these sharpe mockes.

Will you giue hornes chast Ladie? Do not so

Mar. Then die a Calfe before your horns do grow

Lon. One word in priuate with you ere I die

Mar. Bleat softly then, the Butcher heares you cry

Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the Razors
edge, inuisible:

Cutting a smaller haire then may be seene, Aboue the sense of sence so
sensible:

Seemeth their conference, their conceits haue wings, Fleeter then
arrows, bullets wind, thoght, swifter things   Rosa. Not one word more
my maides, breake off, breake off

Ber. By heauen, all drie beaten with pure scoffe

King. Farewell madde Wenches, you haue simple wits.

Exeunt.

Qu. Twentie adieus my frozen Muscouits. Are these the breed of wits
so wondred at?   Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweete breathes puft
out

Rosa. Wel-liking wits they haue, grosse, grosse, fat, fat

Qu. O pouertie in wit, Kingly poore flout. Will they not (thinke
you) hang themselues to night? Or euer but in vizards shew their
faces:

This pert Berowne was out of count'nance quite

Rosa. They were all in lamentable cases. The King was weeping ripe
for a good word

Qu. Berowne did sweare himselfe out of all suite

Mar. Dumaine was at my seruice, and his sword: No point (quoth I:)
my seruant straight was mute

Ka. Lord Longauill said I came ore his hart: And trow you what he
call'd me?

Qu. Qualme perhaps

Kat. Yes in good faith

Qu. Go sicknesse as thou art

Ros. Well, better wits haue worne plain statute caps, But will you
heare; the King is my loue sworne

Qu. And quicke Berowne hath plighted faith to me

Kat. And Longauill was for my seruice borne

Mar. Dumaine is mine as sure as barke on tree

Boyet. Madam, and prettie mistresses giue eare, Immediately they
will againe be heere

In their owne shapes: for it can neuer be, They will digest this harsh
indignitie

Qu. Will they returne?

Boy. They will they will, God knowes,

And leape for ioy, though they are lame with blowes: Therefore change
Fauours, and when they repaire, Blow like sweet Roses, in this summer
aire

Qu. How blow? how blow? Speake to bee vnderstood

Boy. Faire Ladies maskt, are Roses in their bud: Dismaskt, their
damaske sweet commixture showne, Are Angels vailing clouds, or Roses
blowne

Qu. Auant perplexitie: What shall we do, If they returne in their
owne shapes to wo?   Rosa. Good Madam, if by me you'l be aduis'd. Let's
mocke them still as well knowne as disguis'd: Let vs complaine to them
what fooles were heare, Disguis'd like Muscouites in shapelesse geare:
And wonder what they were, and to what end Their shallow showes, and
Prologue vildely pen'd: And their rough carriage so ridiculous,

Should be presented at our Tent to vs

Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand

Quee. Whip to our Tents, as Roes runnes ore Land.

Exeunt.

Enter the King and the rest.

King. Faire sir, God saue you. Wher's the Princesse?   Boy. Gone to
her Tent.

Please it your Maiestie command me any seruice to her?   King. That she
vouchsafe me audience for one word

Boy. I will, and so will she, I know my Lord. Enter.

Ber. This fellow pickes vp wit as Pigeons pease, And vtters it
againe, when Ioue doth please. He is Wits Pedler, and retailes his
Wares, At Wakes, and Wassels, Meetings, Markets, Faires. And we that
sell by grosse, the Lord doth know, Haue not the grace to grace it with
such show. This Gallant pins the Wenches on his sleeue. Had he bin
Adam, he had tempted Eue.

He can carue too, and lispe: Why this is he, That kist away his hand in
courtesie.

This is the Ape of Forme, Monsieur the nice, That when he plaies at
Tables, chides the Dice In honorable tearmes: Nay he can sing

A meane most meanly, and in Vshering

Mend him who can: the Ladies call him sweete. The staires as he treads
on them kisse his feete. This is the flower that smiles on euerie one,
To shew his teeth as white as Whales bone. And consciences that wil not
die in debt, Pay him the dutie of honie-tongued Boyet

King. A blister on his sweet tongue with my hart, That put Armathoes
Page out of his part.

Enter the Ladies.

Ber. See where it comes. Behauiour what wer't thou, Till this madman
shew'd thee? And what art thou now?   King. All haile sweet Madame, and
faire time of day

Qu. Faire in all Haile is foule, as I conceiue

King. Construe my speeches better, if you may

Qu. Then wish me better, I wil giue you leaue

King. We came to visit you, and purpose now To leade you to our
Court, vouchsafe it then

Qu. This field shal hold me, and so hold your vow: Nor God, nor I,
delights in periur'd men

King. Rebuke me not for that which you prouoke: The vertue of your
eie must breake my oth

Q. You nickname vertue: vice you should haue spoke: For vertues
office neuer breakes men troth. Now by my maiden honor, yet as pure

As the vnsallied Lilly, I protest,

A world of torments though I should endure, I would not yeeld to be
your houses guest: So much I hate a breaking cause to be

Of heauenly oaths, vow'd with integritie

Kin. O you haue liu'd in desolation heere, Vnseene, vnuisited, much
to our shame

Qu. Not so my Lord, it is not so I sweare, We haue had pastimes
heere, and pleasant game, A messe of Russians left vs but of late

Kin. How Madam? Russians?

Qu. I in truth, my Lord.

Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state

Rosa. Madam speake true. It is not so my Lord: My Ladie (to the
manner of the daies)

In curtesie giues vndeseruing praise.

We foure indeed confronted were with foure In Russia habit: Heere they
stayed an houre, And talk'd apace: and in that houre (my Lord) They did
not blesse vs with one happy word. I dare not call them fooles; but
this I thinke, When they are thirstie, fooles would faine haue drinke

Ber. This iest is drie to me. Gentle sweete, Your wits makes wise
things foolish when we greete With eies best seeing, heauens fierie
eie: By light we loose light; your capacitie

Is of that nature, that to your huge stoore, Wise things seeme foolish,
and rich things but poore

Ros. This proues you wise and rich: for in my eie   Ber. I am a
foole, and full of pouertie

Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to
snatch words from my tongue

Ber. O, I am yours, and all that I possesse

Ros. All the foole mine

Ber. I cannot giue you lesse

Ros. Which of the Vizards what it that you wore?   Ber. Where? when?
What Vizard?

Why demand you this?

Ros. There, then, that vizard, that superfluous case, That hid the
worse, and shew'd the better face

Kin. We are discried,

They'l mocke vs now downeright

Du. Let vs confesse, and turne it to a iest

Que. Amaz'd my Lord? Why lookes your Highnes sadde?

Rosa. Helpe hold his browes, hee'l sound: why looke you pale?

Sea-sicke I thinke comming from Muscouie

Ber. Thus poure the stars down plagues for periury. Can any face of
brasse hold longer out?

Heere stand I, Ladie dart thy skill at me, Bruise me with scorne,
confound me with a flout. Thrust thy sharpe wit quite through my
ignorance. Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit:

And I will wish thee neuer more to dance, Nor neuer more in Russian
habit waite.

O! neuer will I trust to speeches pen'd,

Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boies tongue. Nor neuer come in vizard
to my friend,

Nor woo in rime like a blind-harpers songue, Taffata phrases, silken
tearmes precise,

Three-pil'd Hyperboles, spruce affection; Figures pedanticall, these
summer flies,

Haue blowne me full of maggot ostentation. I do forsweare them, and I
heere protest, By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knows)
Henceforth my woing minde shall be exprest In russet yeas, and honest
kersie noes.

And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law,

My loue to thee is sound, sans cracke or flaw,   Rosa. Sans, sans, I
pray you

Ber. Yet I haue a tricke

Of the old rage: beare with me, I am sicke. Ile leaue it by degrees:
soft, let vs see, Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on those three, They
are infected, in their hearts it lies: They haue the plague, and caught
it of your eyes: These Lords are visited, you are not free: For the
Lords tokens on you do I see

Qu. No, they are free that gaue these tokens to vs

Ber. Our states are forfeit, seeke not to vndo vs

Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true, That you stand forfeit,
being those that sue

Ber. Peace, for I will not haue to do with you

Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend

Ber. Speake for your selues, my wit is at an end

King. Teach vs sweete Madame, for our rude transgression, some faire
excuse

Qu. The fairest is confession.

Were you not heere but euen now, disguis'd?   Kin. Madam, I was

Qu. And were you well aduis'd?

Kin. I was faire Madam

Qu. When you then were heere,

What did you whisper in your Ladies eare?   King. That more then all
the world I did respect her   Qu. When shee shall challenge this, you
will reiect her

King. Vpon mine Honor no

Qu. Peace, peace, forbeare:

Your oath once broke, you force not to forsweare

King. Despise me when I breake this oath of mine

Qu. I will, and therefore keepe it. Rosaline, What did the Russian
whisper in your eare?   Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me deare
As precious eye-sight, and did value me

Aboue this World: adding thereto moreouer, That he would Wed me, or
else die my Louer

Qu. God giue thee ioy of him: the Noble Lord Most honorably doth
vphold his word

King. What meane you Madame?

By my life, my troth

I neuer swore this Ladie such an oth

Ros. By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine, You gaue me this:
But take it sir againe

King. My faith and this, the Princesse I did giue, I knew her by
this Iewell on her sleeue

Qu. Pardon me sir, this Iewell did she weare. And Lord Berowne (I
thanke him) is my deare. What? Will you haue me, or your Pearle againe?
Ber. Neither of either, I remit both twaine. I see the tricke on't:
Heere was a consent, Knowing aforehand of our merriment,

To dash it like a Christmas Comedie.

Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight Zanie, Some mumble-newes,
some trencher-knight, som Dick That smiles his cheeke in yeares, and
knowes the trick To make my Lady laugh, when she's dispos'd; Told our
intents before: which once disclos'd, The Ladies did change Fauours;
and then we Following the signes, woo'd but the signe of she. Now to
our periurie, to adde more terror, We are againe forsworne in will and
error. Much vpon this tis: and might not you

Forestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue? Do not you know my Ladies
foot by'th squier? And laugh vpon the apple of her eie?

And stand betweene her backe sir, and the fire, Holding a trencher,
iesting merrilie?

You put our Page out: go, you are alowd.

Die when you will, a smocke shall be your shrowd. You leere vpon me, do
you? There's an eie Wounds like a Leaden sword

Boy. Full merrily hath this braue manager, this carreere bene run

Ber. Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I haue don. Enter Clowne.

Welcome pure wit, thou part'st a faire fray

Clo. O Lord sir, they would kno,

Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no

Ber. What, are there but three?

Clo. No sir, but it is vara fine,

For euerie one pursents three

Ber. And three times thrice is nine

Clo. Not so sir, vnder correction sir, I hope it is not so. You
cannot beg vs sir, I can assure you sir, we know what we know: I hope
sir three times thrice sir

Ber. Is not nine

Clo. Vnder correction sir, wee know where-vntill it doth amount

Ber. By Ioue, I alwaies tooke three threes for nine

Clow. O Lord sir, it were pittie you should get your liuing by
reckning sir

Ber. How much is it?

Clo. O Lord sir, the parties themselues, the actors sir will shew
where-vntill it doth amount: for mine owne part, I am (as they say, but
to perfect one man in one poore man) Pompion the great sir

Ber. Art thou one of the Worthies?

Clo. It pleased them to thinke me worthie of Pompey the great: for
mine owne part, I know not the degree of the Worthie, but I am to stand
for him

Ber. Go, bid them prepare.

Enter.

Clo. We will turne it finely off sir, we wil take some care

King. Berowne, they will shame vs:

Let them not approach

Ber. We are shame-proofe my Lord: and 'tis some policie, to haue one
shew worse then the Kings and his companie

Kin. I say they shall not come

Qu. Nay my good Lord, let me ore-rule you now; That sport best
pleases, that doth least know how. Where Zeale striues to content, and
the contents Dies in the Zeale of that which it presents: Their forme
confounded, makes most forme in mirth, When great things labouring
perish in their birth

Ber. A right description of our sport my Lord. Enter Braggart.

Brag. Annointed, I implore so much expence of thy royall sweet
breath, as will vtter a brace of words

Qu. Doth this man serue God?

Ber. Why aske you?

Qu. He speak's not like a man of God's making

Brag. That's all one my faire sweet honie Monarch: For I protest,
the Schoolmaster is exceeding fantasticall: Too too vaine, too too
vaine. But we wil put it (as they say) to Fortuna delaguar, I wish you
the peace of minde most royall cupplement

King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies; He presents
Hector of Troy, the Swaine Pompey y great, the Parish Curate Alexander,
Armadoes Page Hercules, the Pedant Iudas Machabeus: and if these foure
Worthies in their first shew thriue, these foure will change habites,
and present the other fiue

Ber. There is fiue in the first shew

Kin. You are deceiued, tis not so

Ber. The Pedant, the Braggart, the Hedge-Priest, the Foole, and the
Boy,

Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world againe, Cannot pricke out
fiue such, take each one in's vaine

Kin. The ship is vnder saile, and here she coms amain. Enter
Pompey.

Clo. I Pompey am

Ber. You lie, you are not he

Clo. I Pompey am

Boy. With Libbards head on knee

Ber. Well said old mocker,

I must needs be friends with thee

Clo. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big

Du. The great

Clo. It is great sir: Pompey surnam'd the great: That oft in field,
with Targe and Shield, did make my foe to sweat:

And trauailing along this coast, I heere am come by chance, And lay my
Armes before the legs of this sweet Lasse of France.

If your Ladiship would say thankes Pompey, I had done

La. Great thankes great Pompey

Clo. Tis not so much worth: but I hope I was perfect. I made a
little fault in great

Ber. My hat to a halfe-penie, Pompey prooues the best Worthie.

Enter Curate for Alexander.

Curat. When in the world I liu'd, I was the worldes Commander: By
East, West, North, & South, I spred my conquering might My Scutcheon
plaine declares that I am Alisander

Boiet. Your nose saies no, you are not: For it stands too right

Ber. Your nose smells no, in this most tender smelling Knight

Qu. The Conqueror is dismaid:

Proceede good Alexander

Cur. When in the world I liued, I was the worldes Commander

Boiet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so Alisander

Ber. Pompey the great

Clo. your seruant and Costard

Ber. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alisander   Clo. O sir, you
haue ouerthrowne Alisander the conqueror: you will be scrap'd out of
the painted cloth for this: your Lion that holds his Pollax sitting on
a close stoole, will be giuen to Aiax. He will be the ninth worthie. A
Conqueror, and affraid to speake? Runne away for shame Alisander. There
an't shall please you: a foolish milde man, an honest man, looke you, &
soon dasht. He is a maruellous good neighbour insooth, and a verie good
Bowler: but for Alisander, alas you see, how 'tis a little ore-parted.
But there are Worthies a comming, will speake their minde in some other
sort.

Exit Cu.

Qu. Stand aside good Pompey.

Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.

Ped. Great Hercules is presented by this Impe, Whose Club kil'd
Cerberus that three-headed Canus, And when he was a babe, a childe, a
shrimpe, Thus did he strangle Serpents in his Manus: Quoniam, he
seemeth in minoritie,

Ergo, I come with this Apologie.

Keepe some state in thy exit, and vanish.

Exit Boy

Ped. Iudas I am

Dum. A Iudas?

Ped. Not Iscariot sir.

Iudas I am, ycliped Machabeus

Dum. Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas

Ber. A kissing traitor. How art thou prou'd Iudas?   Ped. Iudas I
am

Dum. The more shame for you Iudas

Ped. What meane you sir?

Boi. To make Iudas hang himselfe

Ped. Begin sir, you are my elder

Ber. Well follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder

Ped. I will not be put out of countenance

Ber. Because thou hast no face

Ped. What is this?

Boi. A Citterne head

Dum. The head of a bodkin

Ber. A deaths face in a ring

Lon. The face of an old Roman coine, scarce seene

Boi. The pummell of Csars Faulchion

Dum. The caru'd-bone face on a Flaske

Ber. S[aint]. Georges halfe cheeke in a brooch

Dum. I, and in a brooch of Lead

Ber. I, and worne in the cap of a Tooth-drawer. And now forward, for
we haue put thee in countenance   Ped. You haue put me out of
countenance

Ber. False, we haue giuen thee faces

Ped. But you haue out-fac'd them all

Ber. And thou wer't a Lion, we would do so

Boy. Therefore as he is, an Asse, let him go: And so adieu sweet
Iude. Nay, why dost thou stay?   Dum. For the latter end of his name

Ber. For the Asse to the Iude: giue it him. Iudas away

Ped. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble

Boy. A light for monsieur Iudas, it growes darke, he may stumble

Que. Alas poore Machabeus, how hath hee beene baited.

Enter Braggart.

Ber. Hide thy head Achilles, heere comes Hector in Armes

Dum. Though my mockes come home by me, I will now be merrie

King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this

Boi. But is this Hector?

Kin. I thinke Hector was not so cleane timber'd

Lon. His legge is too big for Hector

Dum. More Calfe certaine

Boi. No, he is best indued in the small

Ber. This cannot be Hector

Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces

Brag. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty, gaue Hector a
gift

Dum. A gilt Nutmegge

Ber. A Lemmon

Lon. Stucke with Cloues

Dum. No clouen

Brag. The Armipotent Mars of Launces the almighty, Gaue Hector a
gift, the heire of Illion;

A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight: yea From morne till
night, out of his Pauillion. I am that Flower

Dum. That Mint

Long. That Cullambine

Brag. Sweet Lord Longauill reine thy tongue

Lon. I must rather giue it the reine: for it runnes against Hector

Dum. I, and Hector's a Grey-hound

Brag. The sweet War-man is dead and rotten, Sweet chuckes, beat not
the bones of the buried: But I will forward with my deuice;

Sweete Royaltie bestow on me the sence of hearing.

Berowne steppes forth.

Qu. Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted

Brag. i do adore thy sweet Graces slipper

Boy. Loues her by the foot

Dum. He may not by the yard

Brag. This Hector farre surmounted Hanniball. The partie is gone

Clo. Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two moneths on her way

Brag. What meanest thou?

Clo. Faith vnlesse you play the honest Troyan, the poore Wench is
cast away: she's quick, the child brags in her belly alreadie: tis
yours

Brag. Dost thou infamonize me among Potentates? Thou shalt die

Clo. Then shall Hector be whipt for Iaquenetta that is quicke by
him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by him

Dum. Most rare Pompey

Boi. Renowned Pompey

Ber. Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey: Pompey the
huge

Dum. Hector trembles

Ber. Pompey is moued, more Atees more Atees stirre them, or stirre
them on

Dum. Hector will challenge him

Ber. I, if a'haue no more mans blood in's belly, then will sup a
Flea

Brag. By the North-pole I do challenge thee

Clo. I wil not fight with a pole like a Northern man; Ile slash, Ile
do it by the sword: I pray you let mee borrow my Armes againe

Dum. Roome for the incensed Worthies

Clo. Ile do it in my shirt

Dum. Most resolute Pompey

Page. Master, let me take you a button hole lower: Do you not see
Pompey is vncasing for the combat: what meane you? you will lose your
reputation

Brag. Gentlemen and Souldiers pardon me, I will not combat in my
shirt

Du. You may not denie it, Pompey hath made the challenge

Brag. Sweet bloods, I both may, and will

Ber. What reason haue you for't?

Brag. The naked truth of it is, I haue no shirt, I go woolward for
penance

Boy. True, and it was inioyned him in Rome for want of Linnen: since
when, Ile be sworne he wore none, but a dishclout of Iaquenettas, and
that hee weares next his heart for a fauour.

Enter a Messenger, Monsieur Marcade.

Mar. God saue you Madame

Qu. Welcome Marcade, but that thou interruptest our merriment

Marc. I am sorrie Madam, for the newes I bring is heauie in my
tongue. The King your father   Qu. Dead for my life

Mar. Euen so: My tale is told

Ber. Worthies away, the Scene begins to cloud

Brag. For mine owne part, I breath free breath: I haue seene the day
of wrong, through the little hole of discretion, and I will right my
selfe like a Souldier.

Exeunt. Worthies

Kin. How fare's your Maiestie?

Qu. Boyet prepare, I will away to night

Kin. Madame not so, I do beseech you stay

Qu. Prepare I say. I thanke you gracious Lords For all your faire
endeuours and entreats: Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe, In
your rich wisedome to excuse, or hide, The liberall opposition of our
spirits,

If ouer-boldly we haue borne our selues,

In the conuerse of breath (your gentlenesse Was guiltie of it.)
Farewell worthie Lord: A heauie heart beares not a humble tongue.
Excuse me so, comming so short of thankes, For my great suite, so
easily obtain'd

Kin. The extreme parts of time, extremelie formes All causes to the
purpose of his speed:

And often at his verie loose decides

That, which long processe could not arbitrate. And though the mourning
brow of progenie

Forbid the smiling curtesie of Loue:

The holy suite which faine it would conuince, Yet since loues argument
was first on foote, Let not the cloud of sorrow iustle it

From what it purpos'd: since to waile friends lost, Is not by much so
wholsome profitable,

As to reioyce at friends but newly found

Qu. I vnderstand you not, my greefes are double

Ber. Honest plain words, best pierce the ears of griefe And by these
badges vnderstand the King,

For your faire sakes haue we neglected time, Plaid foule play with our
oaths: your beautie Ladies Hath much deformed vs, fashioning our humors
Euen to the opposed end of our intents.

And what in vs hath seem'd ridiculous:

As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines,

All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine. Form'd by the eie, and
therefore like the eie. Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of
formes Varying in subiects as the eie doth roule, To euerie varied
obiect in his glance:

Which partie-coated presence of loose loue Put on by vs, if in your
heauenly eies,

Haue misbecom'd our oathes and grauities. Those heauenlie eies that
looke into these faults, Suggested vs to make: therefore Ladies

Our loue being yours, the error that Loue makes Is likewise yours. We
to our selues proue false, By being once false, for euer to be true

To those that make vs both, faire Ladies you. And euen that falshood in
it selfe a sinne, Thus purifies it selfe, and turnes to grace

Qu. We haue receiu'd your Letters, full of Loue: Your Fauours, the
Ambassadors of Loue.

And in our maiden counsaile rated them,

At courtship, pleasant iest, and curtesie, As bumbast and as lining to
the time:

But more deuout then these are our respects Haue we not bene, and
therefore met your loues In their owne fashion, like a merriment

Du. Our letters Madam, shew'd much more then iest

Lon. So did our lookes

Rosa. We did not coat them so

Kin. Now at the latest minute of the houre, Grant vs your loues

Qu. A time me thinkes too short,

To make a world-without-end bargaine in:

No, no my Lord, your Grace is periur'd much, Full of deare guiltinesse,
and therefore this: If for my Loue (as there is no such cause) You will
do ought, this shall you do for me. Your oth I will not trust: but go
with speed To some forlorne and naked Hermitage,

Remote from all the pleasures of the world: There stay, vntill the
twelue Celestiall Signes Haue brought about their annuall reckoning. If
this austere insociable life,

Change not your offer made in heate of blood: If frosts, and fasts,
hard lodging, and thin weeds Nip not the gaudie blossomes of your Loue,
But that it beare this triall, and last loue: Then at the expiration of
the yeare,

Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts, And by this Virgin
palme, now kissing thine, I will be thine: and till that instant shut
My wofull selfe vp in a mourning house,

Raining the teares of lamentation,

For the remembrance of my Fathers death.

If this thou do denie, let our hands part, Neither intitled in the
others hart

Kin. If this, or more then this, I would denie, To flatter vp these
powers of mine with rest, The sodaine hand of death close vp mine eie.
Hence euer then, my heart is in thy brest

Ber. And what to me my Loue? and what to me?   Ros. You must be
purged too, your sins are rack'd. You are attaint with faults and
periurie: Therefore if you my fauor meane to get,

A tweluemonth shall you spend, and neuer rest, But seeke the wearie
beds of people sicke

Du. But what to me my loue? but what to me?   Kat. A wife? a beard,
faire health, and honestie, With three-fold loue, I wish you all these
three

Du. O shall I say, I thanke you gentle wife?   Kat. Not so my Lord,
a tweluemonth and a day, Ile marke no words that smoothfac'd wooers
say. Come when the King doth to my Ladie come: Then if I haue much
loue, Ile giue you some

Dum. Ile serue thee true and faithfully till then

Kath. Yet sweare not, least ye be forsworne agen

Lon. What saies Maria?

Mari. At the tweluemonths end,

Ile change my blacke Gowne, for a faithfull friend

Lon. Ile stay with patience: but the time is long

Mari. The liker you, few taller are so yong

Ber. Studies my Ladie? Mistresse, looke on me, Behold the window of
my heart, mine eie:

What humble suite attends thy answer there, Impose some seruice on me
for my loue

Ros. Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne, Before I saw you: and
the worlds large tongue Proclaimes you for a man repleate with mockes,
Full of comparisons, and wounding floutes: Which you on all estates
will execute,

That lie within the mercie of your wit.

To weed this Wormewood from your fruitfull braine, And therewithall to
win me, if you please, Without the which I am not to be won:

You shall this tweluemonth terme from day to day, Visit the speechlesse
sicke, and still conuerse With groaning wretches: and your taske shall
be, With all the fierce endeuour of your wit, To enforce the pained
impotent to smile

Ber. To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death? It cannot be,
it is impossible.

Mirth cannot moue a soule in agonie

Ros. Why that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is
begot of that loose grace, Which shallow laughing hearers giue to
fooles: A iests prosperitie, lies in the eare

Of him that heares it, neuer in the tongue Of him that makes it: then,
if sickly eares, Deaft with the clamors of their owne deare grones,
Will heare your idle scornes; continue then, And I will haue you, and
that fault withall. But if they will not, throw away that spirit, And I
shal finde you emptie of that fault, Right ioyfull of your reformation

Ber. A tweluemonth? Well: befall what will befall, Ile iest a
tweluemonth in an Hospitall

Qu. I sweet my Lord, and so I take my leaue

King. No Madam, we will bring you on your way

Ber. Our woing doth not end like an old Play: Iacke hath not Gill:
these Ladies courtesie Might wel haue made our sport a Comedie

Kin. Come sir, it wants a tweluemonth and a day, And then 'twil end

Ber. That's too long for a play.

Enter Braggart.

Brag. Sweet Maiesty vouchsafe me

Qu. Was not that Hector?

Dum. The worthie Knight of Troy

Brag. I wil kisse thy royal finger, and take leaue. I am a Votarie,
I haue vow'd to Iaquenetta to holde the Plough for her sweet loue three
yeares. But most esteemed greatnesse, wil you heare the Dialogue that
the two Learned men haue compiled, in praise of the Owle and the
Cuckow? It should haue followed in the end of our shew

Kin. Call them forth quickely, we will do so

Brag. Holla, Approach.

Enter all.

This side is Hiems, Winter.

This Ver, the Spring: the one maintained by the Owle, Th' other by the
Cuckow.

Ver, begin.

The Song.

When Dasies pied, and Violets blew,

And Cuckow-buds of yellow hew:

And Ladie-smockes all siluer white,

Do paint the Medowes with delight.

The Cuckow then on euerie tree,

Mockes married men, for thus sings he,

Cuckow.

Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,

Vnpleasing to a married eare.

When Shepheards pipe on Oaten strawes,

And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens clockes: When Turtles tread, and
Rookes and Dawes, And Maidens bleach their summer smockes:

The Cuckow then on euerie tree

Mockes married men; for thus sings he,

Cuckow.

Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,

Vnpleasing to a married eare

Winter. When Isicles hang by the wall, And Dicke the Shepheard
blowes his naile; And Tom beares Logges into the hall,

And Milke comes frozen home in paile:

When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle,

Then nightly sings the staring Owle

Tuwhit towho.

A merrie note,

While greasie Ione doth keele the pot.

When all aloud the winde doth blow,

And coffing drownes the Parsons saw:

And birds sit brooding in the snow,

And Marrians nose lookes red and raw:

When roasted Crabs hisse in the bowle,

Then nightly sings the staring Owle,

Tuwhit towho:

A merrie note,

While greasie Ione doth keele the pot

Brag. The Words of Mercurie,

Are harsh after the songs of Apollo:

You that way; we this way.

Exeunt. omnes.

FINIS. Loues Labour's lost.



A Midsommer Nights Dreame

Actus primus.

Enter Theseus, Hippolita, with others.

Theseus. Now faire Hippolita, our nuptiall houre Drawes on apace:
foure happy daies bring in Another Moon: but oh, me thinkes, how slow
This old Moon wanes; She lingers my desires Like to a Step-dame, or a
Dowager,

Long withering out a yong mans reuennew

Hip. Foure daies wil quickly steep the[m]selues in nights Foure
nights wil quickly dreame away the time: And then the Moone, like to a
siluer bow, Now bent in heauen, shal behold the night Of our
solemnities

The. Go Philostrate,

Stirre vp the Athenian youth to merriments, Awake the pert and nimble
spirit of mirth, Turne melancholy forth to Funerals:

The pale companion is not for our pompe,

Hippolita, I woo'd thee with my sword,

And wonne thy loue, doing thee iniuries:

But I will wed thee in another key,

With pompe, with triumph, and with reuelling. Enter Egeus and his
daughter Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius.

Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke

The. Thanks good Egeus: what's the news with thee?   Ege. Full of
vexation, come I, with complaint Against my childe, my daughter
Hermia.

Stand forth Demetrius.

My Noble Lord,

This man hath my consent to marrie her.

Stand forth Lysander.

And my gracious Duke,

This man hath bewitch'd the bosome of my childe: Thou, thou Lysander,
thou hast giuen her rimes, And interchang'd loue-tokens with my childe:
Thou hast by Moone-light at her window sung, With faining voice, verses
of faining loue, And stolne the impression of her fantasie, With
bracelets of thy haire, rings, gawdes, conceits, Knackes, trifles,
Nose-gaies, sweet meats (messengers Of strong preuailment in vnhardned
youth) With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughters heart, Turn'd her
obedience (which is due to me) To stubborne harshnesse. And my gracious
Duke, Be it so she will not heere before your Grace, Consent to marrie
with Demetrius,

I beg the ancient priuiledge of Athens;

As she is mine, I may dispose of her;

Which shall be either to this Gentleman,

Or to her death, according to our Law,

Immediately prouided in that case

The. What say you Hermia? be aduis'd faire Maide, To you your Father
should be as a God;

One that compos'd your beauties; yea and one To whom you are but as a
forme in waxe

By him imprinted: and within his power,

To leaue the figure, or disfigure it:

Demetrius is a worthy Gentleman

Her. So is Lysander

The. In himselfe he is.

But in this kinde, wanting your fathers voyce, The other must be held
the worthier

Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes

The. Rather your eies must with his iudgment looke

Her. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me. I know not by what power
I am made bold,

Nor how it may concerne my modestie

In such a presence heere to pleade my thoughts: But I beseech your
Grace, that I may know The worst that may befall me in this case, If I
refuse to wed Demetrius

The. Either to dye the death, or to abiure For euer the society of
men.

Therefore faire Hermia question your desires, Know of your youth,
examine well your blood, Whether (if you yeeld not to your fathers
choice) You can endure the liuerie of a Nunne,

For aye to be in shady Cloister mew'd,

To liue a barren sister all your life,

Chanting faint hymnes to the cold fruitlesse Moone, Thrice blessed they
that master so their blood, To vndergo such maiden pilgrimage,

But earthlier happie is the Rose distil'd, Then that which withering on
the virgin thorne, Growes, liues, and dies, in single blessednesse

Her. So will I grow, so liue, so die my Lord, Ere I will yeeld my
virgin Patent vp

Vnto his Lordship, whose vnwished yoake,

My soule consents not to giue soueraignty

The. Take time to pause, and by the next new Moon The sealing day
betwixt my loue and me,

For euerlasting bond of fellowship:

Vpon that day either prepare to dye,

For disobedience to your fathers will,

Or else to wed Demetrius as hee would,

Or on Dianaes Altar to protest

For aie, austerity, and single life

Dem. Relent sweet Hermia, and Lysander, yeelde Thy crazed title to
my certaine right

Lys. You haue her fathers loue, Demetrius: Let me haue Hermiaes: do
you marry him

Egeus. Scornfull Lysander, true, he hath my Loue; And what is mine,
my loue shall render him. And she is mine, and all my right of her, I
do estate vnto Demetrius

Lys. I am my Lord, as well deriu'd as he, As well possest: my loue
is more then his: My fortunes euery way as fairely ranck'd

(If not with vantage) as Demetrius:

And (which is more then all these boasts can be) I am belou'd of
beauteous Hermia.

Why should not I then prosecute my right? Demetrius, Ile auouch it to
his head,

Made loue to Nedars daughter, Helena,

And won her soule: and she (sweet Ladie) dotes, Deuoutly dotes, dotes
in Idolatry,

Vpon this spotted and inconstant man

The. I must confesse, that I haue heard so much, And with Demetrius
thought to haue spoke thereof: But being ouer-full of selfe-affaires,

My minde did lose it. But Demetrius come, And come Egeus, you shall go
with me,

I haue some priuate schooling for you both. For you faire Hermia, looke
you arme your selfe, To fit your fancies to your Fathers will; Or else
the Law of Athens yeelds you vp

(Which by no meanes we may extenuate)

To death, or to a vow of single life.

Come my Hippolita, what cheare my loue?

Demetrius and Egeus go along:

I must imploy you in some businesse

Against our nuptiall, and conferre with you Of something, neerely that
concernes your selues

Ege. With dutie and desire we follow you.

Exeunt.

Manet Lysander and Hermia.

Lys. How now my loue? Why is your cheek so pale? How chance the Roses
there do fade so fast?   Her. Belike for want of raine, which I could
well Beteeme them, from the tempest of mine eyes

Lys. For ought that euer I could reade, Could euer heare by tale or
historie,

The course of true loue neuer did run smooth, But either it was
different in blood

Her. O crosse! too high to be enthral'd to loue

Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of yeares

Her. O spight! too old to be ingag'd to yong

Lys. Or else it stood vpon the choise of merit

Her. O hell! to choose loue by anothers eie

Lys. Or if there were a simpathie in choise, Warre, death, or
sicknesse, did lay siege to it; Making it momentarie, as a sound:

Swift as a shadow, short as any dreame,

Briefe as the lightning in the collied night, That (in a spleene)
vnfolds both heauen and earth; And ere a man hath power to say,
behold,

The iawes of darkness do deuoure it vp:

So quicke bright things come to confusion

Her. If then true Louers haue beene euer crost, It stands as an
edict in destinie:

Then let vs teach our triall patience,

Because it is a customarie crosse,

As due to loue, as thoughts, and dreames, and sighes, Wishes and
teares; poore Fancies followers

Lys. A good perswasion; therefore heare me Hermia, I haue a Widdow
Aunt, a dowager,

Of great reuennew, and she hath no childe, From Athens is her house
remou'd seuen leagues, And she respects me, as her onely sonne:

There gentle Hermia, may I marrie thee,

And to that place, the sharpe Athenian Law Cannot pursue vs. If thou
lou'st me, then Steale forth thy Fathers house to morrow night: And in
the wood, a league without the towne, (Where I did meete thee once with
Helena. To do obseruance for a morne of May)

There will I stay for thee

Her. My good Lysander,

I sweare to thee, by Cupids strongest bow, By his best arrow with the
golden head,

By the simplicitie of Venus Doues,

By that which knitteth soules, and prospers loue, And by that fire
which burn'd the Carthage Queene, When the false Troyan vnder saile was
seene, By all the vowes that euer men haue broke, (In number more then
euer women spoke)

In that same place thou hast appointed me, To morrow truly will I meete
with thee

Lys. Keepe promise loue: looke here comes Helena. Enter Helena.

Her. God speede faire Helena, whither away?   Hel. Cal you me faire?
that faire againe vnsay, Demetrius loues you faire: O happie faire!
Your eyes are loadstarres, and your tongues sweete ayre More tuneable
then Larke to shepheards eare, When wheate is greene, when hauthorne
buds appeare, Sicknesse is catching: O were fauor so,

Your words I catch, faire Hermia ere I go, My eare should catch your
voice, my eye, your eye, My tongue should catch your tongues sweete
melodie, Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, The rest Ile giue
to be to you translated. O teach me how you looke, and with what art
You sway the motion of Demetrius hart

Her. I frowne vpon him, yet he loues me still

Hel. O that your frownes would teach my smiles such skil

Her. I giue him curses, yet he giues me loue

Hel. O that my prayers could such affection mooue

Her. The more I hate, the more he followes me

Hel. The more I loue, the more he hateth me

Her. His folly Helena is none of mine

Hel. None but your beauty, wold that fault wer mine   Her. Take
comfort: he no more shall see my face, Lysander and my selfe will flie
this place. Before the time I did Lysander see,

Seem'd Athens like a Paradise to mee.

O then, what graces in my Loue do dwell,

That he hath turn'd a heauen into hell

Lys. Helen, to you our mindes we will vnfold, To morrow night, when
Phoebe doth behold

Her siluer visage, in the watry glasse,

Decking with liquid pearle, the bladed grasse (A time that Louers
flights doth still conceale) Through Athens gates, haue we deuis'd to
steale

Her. And in the wood, where often you and I, Vpon faint Primrose
beds, were wont to lye, Emptying our bosomes, of their counsell sweld:
There my Lysander, and my selfe shall meete, And thence from Athens
turne away our eyes To seeke new friends and strange companions,
Farwell sweet play-fellow, pray thou for vs, And good lucke grant thee
thy Demetrius.

Keepe word Lysander we must starue our sight, From louers foode, till
morrow deepe midnight.

Exit Hermia.

Lys. I will my Hermia. Helena adieu,

As you on him, Demetrius dotes on you.

Exit Lysander.

Hele. How happy some, ore othersome can be? Through Athens I am
thought as faire as she. But what of that? Demetrius thinkes not so: He
will not know, what all, but he doth know, And as hee erres, doting on
Hermias eyes; So I, admiring of his qualities:

Things base and vilde, holding no quantity, Loue can transpose to forme
and dignity,

Loue lookes not with the eyes, but with the minde, And therefore is
wing'd Cupid painted blinde. Nor hath loues minde of any iudgement
taste: Wings and no eyes, figure, vnheedy haste. And therefore is Loue
said to be a childe, Because in choise he is often beguil'd,

As waggish boyes in game themselues forsweare; So the boy Loue is
periur'd euery where.

For ere Demetrius lookt on Hermias eyne,

He hail'd downe oathes that he was onely mine. And when this Haile some
heat from Hermia felt, So he dissolu'd, and showres of oathes did melt,
I will goe tell him of faire Hermias flight: Then to the wood will he,
to morrow night Pursue her; and for his intelligence,

If I haue thankes, it is a deere expence: But heerein meane I to enrich
my paine,

To haue his sight thither, and backe againe. Enter.

Enter Quince the Carpenter, Snug the Ioyner, Bottome the Weauer, Flute

the bellowes-mender, Snout the Tinker, and Starueling the Taylor.

Quin. Is all our company heere?

Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man according to
the scrip

Qui. Here is the scrowle of euery mans name, which is thought fit
through all Athens, to play in our Enterlude before the Duke and the
Dutches, on his wedding day at night

Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on: then
read the names of the Actors: and so grow on to a point

Quin. Marry our play is the most lamentable comedy, and most cruell
death of Pyramus and Thisbie

Bot. A very good peece of worke I assure you, and a merry. Now good
Peter Quince, call forth your Actors by the scrowle. Masters spread
your selues

Quince. Answere as I call you. Nick Bottome the Weauer

Bottome. Ready; name what part I am for, and proceed

Quince. You Nicke Bottome are set downe for Pyramus

Bot. What is Pyramus, a louer, or a tyrant?   Quin. A Louer that
kills himselfe most gallantly for loue

Bot. That will aske some teares in the true performing of it: if I
do it, let the audience looke to their eies: I will mooue stormes; I
will condole in some measure. To the rest yet, my chiefe humour is for
a tyrant. I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to teare a Cat in, to
make all split the raging Rocks; and shiuering shocks shall break the
locks of prison gates, and Phibbus carre shall shine from farre, and
make and marre the foolish Fates. This was lofty. Now name the rest of
the Players. This is Ercles vaine, a tyrants vaine: a louer is more
condoling

Quin. Francis Flute the Bellowes-mender

Flu. Heere Peter Quince

Quin. You must take Thisbie on you

Flut. What is Thisbie, a wandring Knight?   Quin. It is the Lady
that Pyramus must loue

Flut. Nay faith, let not mee play a woman, I haue a beard comming

Qui. That's all one, you shall play it in a Maske, and you may
speake as small as you will

Bot. And I may hide my face, let me play Thisbie too: Ile speake in
a monstrous little voyce; Thisne, Thisne, ah Pyramus my louer deare,
thy Thisbie deare, and Lady deare

Quin. No no, you must play Pyramus, and Flute, you Thisby

Bot. Well, proceed

Qu. Robin Starueling the Taylor

Star. Heere Peter Quince

Quince. Robin Starueling, you must play Thisbies mother?

Tom Snowt, the Tinker

Snowt. Heere Peter Quince

Quin. you, Pyramus father; my self, Thisbies father; Snugge the
Ioyner, you the Lyons part: and I hope there is a play fitted

Snug. Haue you the Lions part written? pray you if be, giue it me,
for I am slow of studie

Quin. You may doe it extemporie, for it is nothing but roaring

Bot. Let mee play the Lyon too, I will roare that I will doe any
mans heart good to heare me. I will roare, that I will make the Duke
say, Let him roare againe, let him roare againe

Quin. If you should do it too terribly, you would fright the
Dutchesse and the Ladies, that they would shrike, and that were enough
to hang us all

All. That would hang vs euery mothers sonne

Bottome. I graunt you friends, if that you should fright the Ladies
out of their Wittes, they would haue no more discretion but to hang vs:
but I will aggrauate my voyce so, that I will roare you as gently as
any sucking Doue; I will roare and 'twere any Nightingale

Quin. You can play no part but Piramus, for Piramus is a sweet-fac'd
man, a proper man as one shall see in a summers day; a most louely
Gentleman-like man, therfore you must needs play Piramus

Bot. Well, I will vndertake it. What beard were I best to play it
in?

Quin. Why, what you will

Bot. I will discharge it, in either your straw-colour beard, your
orange tawnie beard, your purple in graine beard, or your French-crowne
colour'd beard, your perfect yellow

Quin. Some of your French Crownes haue no haire at all, and then you
will play bare-fac'd. But masters here are your parts, and I am to
intreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by too morrow
night: and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the Towne, by
Moone-light, there we will rehearse: for if we meete in the Citie, we
shalbe dog'd with company, and our deuises knowne. In the meane time, I
wil draw a bil of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you faile
me not

Bottom. We will meete, and there we may rehearse more obscenely and
couragiously. Take paines, be perfect, adieu

Quin. At the Dukes oake we meete

Bot. Enough, hold or cut bow-strings.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

Enter a Fairie at one dore, and Robin goodfellow at another.

Rob. How now spirit, whether wander you?   Fai. Ouer hil, ouer dale,
through bush, through briar, Ouer parke, ouer pale, through flood,
through fire, I do wander euerie where, swifter then y Moons sphere;
And I serue the Fairy Queene, to dew her orbs vpon the green. The
Cowslips tall, her pensioners bee,

In their gold coats, spots you see,

Those be Rubies, Fairie fauors,

In those freckles, liue their sauors,

I must go seeke some dew drops heere,

And hang a pearle in euery cowslips eare. Farewell thou Lob of spirits,
Ile be gon, Our Queene and all her Elues come heere anon

Rob. The King doth keepe his Reuels here to night, Take heed the
Queene come not within his sight, For Oberon is passing fell and
wrath,

Because that she, as her attendant, hath

A louely boy stolne from an Indian King,

She neuer had so sweet a changeling,

And iealous Oberon would haue the childe

Knight of his traine, to trace the Forrests wilde. But she (perforce)
with-holds the loued boy, Crownes him with flowers, and makes him all
her ioy. And now they neuer meete in groue, or greene, By fountaine
cleere, or spangled star-light sheene, But they do square, that all
their Elues for feare Creepe into Acorne cups and hide them there

Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are
that shrew'd and knauish spirit Cal'd Robin Good-fellow. Are you not
hee, That frights the maidens of the Villagree, Skim milke, and
sometimes labour in the querne, And bootlesse make the breathlesse
huswife cherne, And sometime make the drinke to beare no barme,
Misleade night-wanderers, laughing at their harme, Those that Hobgoblin
call you, and sweet Pucke, You do their worke, and they shall haue good
lucke. Are not you he?

Rob. Thou speak'st aright;

I am that merrie wanderer of the night:

I iest to Oberon, and make him smile,

When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,

Neighing in likenesse of a silly foale,

And sometime lurke I in a Gossips bole,

In very likenesse of a roasted crab:

And when she drinkes, against her lips I bob, And on her withered
dewlop poure the Ale. The wisest Aunt telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stoole, mistaketh me, Then slip I from her bum,
downe topples she, And tailour cries, and fals into a coffe. And then
the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe, And waxen in their mirth,
and neeze, and sweare, A merrier houre was neuer wasted there.

But roome Fairy, heere comes Oberon

Fair. And heere my Mistris:

Would that he were gone.

Enter the King of Fairies at one doore with his traine, and the Queene
at

another with hers.

Ob. Ill met by Moone-light.

Proud Tytania

Qu. What, iealous Oberon? Fairy skip hence. I haue forsworne his bed
and companie

Ob. Tarrie rash Wanton; am not I thy Lord?   Qu. Then I must be thy
Lady: but I know When thou wast stolne away from Fairy Land, And in the
shape of Corin, sate all day,

Playing on pipes of Corne, and versing loue To amorous Phillida. Why
art thou heere

Come from the farthest steepe of India?

But that forsooth the bouncing Amazon

Your buskin'd Mistresse, and your Warrior loue, To Theseus must be
Wedded; and you come,

To giue their bed ioy and prosperitie

Ob. How canst thou thus for shame Tytania. Glance at my credite,
with Hippolita?

Knowing I know thy loue to Theseus?

Didst thou not leade him through the glimmering night From Peregenia,
whom he rauished?

And make him with faire Eagles breake his faith With Ariadne, and
Antiopa?

Que. These are the forgeries of iealousie, And neuer since the middle
Summers spring Met we on hil, in dale, forrest, or mead, By paued
fountaine, or by rushie brooke,

Or in the beached margent of the sea,

To dance our ringlets to the whistling Winde, But with thy braules thou
hast disturb'd our sport. Therefore the Windes, piping to vs in vaine,
As in reuenge, haue suck'd vp from the sea Contagious fogges: Which
falling in the Land, Hath euerie petty Riuer made so proud,

That they haue ouer-borne their Continents. The Oxe hath therefore
stretch'd his yoake in vaine, The Ploughman lost his sweat, and the
greene Corne Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard: The fold
stands empty in the drowned field, And Crowes are fatted with the
murrion flocke, The nine mens Morris is fild vp with mud, And the
queint Mazes in the wanton greene, For lacke of tread are
vndistinguishable. The humane mortals want their winter heere, No night
is now with hymne or caroll blest; Therefore the Moone (the gouernesse
of floods) Pale in her anger, washes all the aire;

That Rheumaticke diseases doe abound.

And through this distemperature, we see

The seasons alter; hoared headed Frosts

Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson Rose, And on old Hyems chinne and
Icie crowne,

An odorous Chaplet of sweet Sommer buds

Is as in mockry set. The Spring, the Sommer, The childing Autumne,
angry Winter change Their wonted Liueries, and the mazed world, By
their increase, now knowes not which is which; And this same progeny of
euills,

Comes from our debate, from our dissention, We are their parents and
originall

Ober. Do you amend it then, it lies in you, Why should Titania
crosse her Oberon?

I do but beg a little changeling boy,

To be my Henchman

Qu. Set your heart at rest,

The Fairy land buyes not the childe of me, His mother was a Votresse of
my Order,

And in the spiced Indian aire, by night

Full often hath she gossipt by my side,

And sat with me on Neptunes yellow sands, Marking th' embarked traders
on the flood, When we haue laught to see the sailes conceiue, And grow
big bellied with the wanton winde: Which she with pretty and with
swimming gate, Following (her wombe then rich with my yong squire)
Would imitate, and saile vpon the Land,

To fetch me trifles, and returne againe,

As from a voyage, rich with merchandize.

But she being mortall, of that boy did die, And for her sake I doe
reare vp her boy,

And for her sake I will not part with him

Ob. How long within this wood intend you stay?   Qu. Perchance till
after Theseus wedding day. If you will patiently dance in our Round,
And see our Moone-light reuels, goe with vs; If not, shun me and I will
spare your haunts

Ob. Giue me that boy, and I will goe with thee

Qu. Not for thy Fairy Kingdome. Fairies away: We shall chide downe
right, if I longer stay.

Exeunt

Ob. Wel, go thy way: thou shalt not from this groue, Till I torment
thee for this iniury.

My gentle Pucke come hither; thou remembrest Since once I sat vpon a
promontory,

And heard a Meare-maide on a Dolphins backe, Vttering such dulcet and
harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew ciuill at her song, And
certaine starres shot madly from their Spheares, To heare the Sea-maids
musicke

Puc. I remember

Ob. That very time I say (but thou couldst not) Flying betweene the
cold Moone and the earth, Cupid all arm'd; a certaine aime he tooke At
a faire Vestall, throned by the West,

And loos'd his loue-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a
hundred thousand hearts, But I might see young Cupids fiery shaft

Quencht in the chaste beames of the watry Moone; And the imperiall
Votresse passed on,

In maiden meditation, fancy free.

Yet markt I where the bolt of Cupid fell. It fell vpon a little
westerne flower;

Before, milke-white: now purple with loues wound, And maidens call it,
Loue in idlenesse.

Fetch me that flower; the hearb I shew'd thee once, The iuyce of it, on
sleeping eye-lids laid, Will make or man or woman madly dote

Vpon the next liue creature that it sees. Fetch me this hearbe, and be
thou heere againe, Ere the Leuiathan can swim a league

Pucke. Ile put a girdle about the earth, in forty minutes

Ober. Hauing once this iuyce,

Ile watch Titania, when she is asleepe,

And drop the liquor of it in her eyes:

The next thing when she waking lookes vpon, (Be it on Lyon, Beare, or
Wolfe, or Bull, On medling Monkey, or on busie Ape)

Shee shall pursue it, with the soule of loue. And ere I take this
charme off from her sight, (As I can take it with another hearbe)

Ile make her render vp her Page to me.

But who comes heere? I am inuisible,

And I will ouer-heare their conference.

Enter Demetrius, Helena following him.

Deme. I loue thee not, therefore pursue me not, Where is Lysander,
and faire Hermia?

The one Ile stay, the other stayeth me.

Thou toldst me they were stolne into this wood; And heere am I, and
wood within this wood, Because I cannot meet my Hermia.

Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more

Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted Adamant, But yet you draw not
Iron, for my heart

Is true as steele. Leaue you your power to draw, And I shall haue no
power to follow you

Deme. Do I entice you? do I speake you faire? Or rather doe I not in
plainest truth,

Tell you I doe not, nor I cannot loue you?   Hel. And euen for that doe
I loue thee the more; I am your spaniell, and Demetrius,

The more you beat me, I will fawne on you. Vse me but as your spaniell;
spurne me, strike me, Neglect me, lose me; onely giue me leaue

(Vnworthy as I am) to follow you.

What worser place can I beg in your loue, (And yet a place of high
respect with me) Then to be vsed as you doe your dogge

Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit, For I am sicke when
I do looke on thee

Hel. And I am sicke when I looke not on you

Dem. You doe impeach your modesty too much, To leaue the Citty, and
commit your selfe Into the hands of one that loues you not, To trust
the opportunity of night.

And the ill counsell of a desert place,

With the rich worth of your virginity

Hel. Your vertue is my priuiledge: for that It is not night when I
doe see your face. Therefore I thinke I am not in the night, Nor doth
this wood lacke worlds of company, For you in my respect are all the
world.

Then how can it be said I am alone,

When all the world is heere to looke on me?   Dem. Ile run from thee,
and hide me in the brakes, And leaue thee to the mercy of wilde beasts

Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you; Runne when you will,
the story shall be chang'd: Apollo flies and Daphne holds the chase;

The Doue pursues the Griffin, the milde Hinde Makes speed to catch the
Tyger. Bootlesse speede, When cowardise pursues, and valour flies

Demet. I will not stay thy questions, let me go; Or if thou follow
me, doe not beleeue,

But I shall doe thee mischiefe in the wood

Hel. I, in the Temple, in the Towne, and Field You doe me mischiefe.
Fye Demetrius,

Your wrongs doe set a scandall on my sexe: We cannot fight for loue, as
men may doe; We should be woo'd, and were not made to wooe. I follow
thee, and make a heauen of hell, To die vpon the hand I loue so well.

Enter.

Ob. Fare thee well Nymph, ere he do leaue this groue, Thou shalt flie
him, and he shall seeke thy loue. Hast thou the flower there? Welcome
wanderer. Enter Pucke.

Puck. I there it is

Ob. I pray thee giue it me.

I know a banke where the wilde time blowes, Where Oxslips and the
nodding Violet growes, Quite ouer-cannoped with luscious woodbine, With
sweet muske roses, and with Eglantine; There sleepes Tytania, sometime
of the night, Lul'd in these flowers, with dances and delight: And
there the snake throwes her enammel'd skinne, Weed wide enough to rap a
Fairy in.

And with the iuyce of this Ile streake her eyes, And make her full of
hatefull fantasies.

Take thou some of it, and seek through this groue; A sweet Athenian
Lady is in loue

With a disdainefull youth: annoint his eyes, But doe it when the next
thing he espies, May be the Lady. Thou shalt know the man, By the
Athenian garments he hath on.

Effect it with some care, that he may proue More fond on her, then she
vpon her loue; And looke thou meet me ere the first Cocke crow

Pu. Feare not my Lord, your seruant shall do so. Enter.

Enter Queene of Fairies, with her traine.

Queen. Come, now a Roundell, and a Fairy song; Then for the third
part of a minute hence, Some to kill Cankers in the muske rose buds,
Some warre with Reremise, for their leathern wings. To make my small
Elues coates, and some keepe backe The clamorous Owle that nightly
hoots and wonders At our queint spirits: Sing me now asleepe, Then to
your offices, and let me rest

Fairies Sing. You spotted Snakes with double tongue, Thorny
Hedgehogges be not seene,

Newts and blinde wormes do no wrong,

Come not neere our Fairy Queene.

Philomele with melodie,

Sing in your sweet Lullaby.

Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby, Neuer harme, nor spell,
nor charme,

Come our louely Lady nye,

So good night with Lullaby

2.Fairy. Weauing Spiders come not heere, Hence you long leg'd
Spinners, hence:

Beetles blacke approach not neere;

Worme nor Snayle doe no offence.

Philomele with melody, &c

1.Fairy. Hence away, now all is well;

One aloofe, stand Centinell.

Shee sleepes.

Enter Oberon.

Ober. What thou seest when thou dost wake, Do it for thy true Loue
take:

Loue and languish for his sake.

Be it Ounce, or Catte, or Beare,

Pard, or Boare with bristled haire,

In thy eye that shall appeare,

When thou wak'st, it is thy deare,

Wake when some vile thing is neere.

Enter Lisander and Hermia.

Lis. Faire loue, you faint with wandring in y woods, And to speake
troth I haue forgot our way: Wee'll rest vs Hermia, If you thinke it
good, And tarry for the comfort of the day

Her. Be it so Lysander; finde you out a bed, For I vpon this banke
will rest my head

Lys. One turfe shall serue as pillow for vs both, One heart, one
bed, two bosomes, and one troth

Her. Nay good Lysander, for my sake my deere Lie further off yet,
doe not lie so neere

Lys. O take the sence sweet, of my innocence, Loue takes the
meaning, in loues conference, I meane that my heart vnto yours is knit,
So that but one heart can you make of it. Two bosomes interchanged with
an oath,

So then two bosomes, and a single troth.

Then by your side, no bed-roome me deny,

For lying so, Hermia, I doe not lye

Her. Lysander riddles very prettily;

Now much beshrew my manners and my pride, If Hermia meant to say,
Lysander lied.

But gentle friend, for loue and courtesie Lie further off, in humane
modesty,

Such separation, as may well be said,

Becomes a vertuous batchelour, and a maide, So farre be distant, and
good night sweet friend; Thy loue nere alter, till thy sweet life end

Lys. Amen, amen, to that faire prayer, say I, And then end life,
when I end loyalty:

Heere is my bed, sleepe giue thee all his rest

Her. With halfe that wish, the wishers eyes be prest. Enter Pucke.
They sleepe.

Puck. Through the Forest haue I gone,

But Athenian finde I none,

One whose eyes I might approue

This flowers force in stirring loue.

Nigh and silence: who is heere?

Weedes of Athens he doth weare:

This is he (my master said)

Despised the Athenian maide:

And heere the maiden sleeping sound,

On the danke and durty ground.

Pretty soule, she durst not lye

Neere this lacke-loue, this kill-curtesie. Churle, vpon thy eyes I
throw

All the power this charme doth owe:

When thou wak'st, let loue forbid

Sleepe his seate on thy eye-lid.

So awake when I am gone:

For I must now to Oberon.

Enter.

Enter Demetrius and Helena running.

Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweete Demetrius

De. I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus

Hel. O wilt thou darkling leaue me? do not so

De. Stay on thy perill, I alone will goe.

Exit Demetrius.

Hel. O I am out of breath, in this fond chace, The more my prayer,
the lesser is my grace, Happy is Hermia, wheresoere she lies;

For she hath blessed and attractiue eyes. How came her eyes so bright?
Not with salt teares. If so, my eyes are oftner washt then hers. No,
no, I am as vgly as a Beare;

For beasts that meete me, runne away for feare, Therefore no maruaile,
though Demetrius

Doe as a monster, flie my presence thus.

What wicked and dissembling glasse of mine, Made me compare with
Hermias sphery eyne? But who is here? Lysander on the ground;

Deade or asleepe? I see no bloud, no wound, Lysander, if you liue, good
sir awake

Lys. And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake. Transparent
Helena, nature her shewes art, That through thy bosome makes me see thy
heart. Where is Demetrius? oh how fit a word

Is that vile name, to perish on my sword!   Hel. Do not say so
Lysander, say not so: What though he loue your Hermia? Lord, what
though? Yet Hermia still loues you; then be content

Lys. Content with Hermia? no, I do repent The tedious minutes I with
her haue spent. Not Hermia, but Helena now I loue;

Who will not change a Rauen for a Doue?

The will of man is by his reason sway'd:

And reason saies you are the worthier Maide. Things growing are not
ripe vntill their season; So I being yong, till now ripe not to reason,
And touching now the point of humane skill, Reason becomes the Marshall
to my will.

And leades me to your eyes, where I orelooke Loues stories, written in
Loues richest booke

Hel. Wherefore was I to this keene mockery borne? When at your hands
did I deserue this scorne? Ist not enough, ist not enough, yong man,
That I did neuer, no nor neuer can,

Deserue a sweete looke from Demetrius eye, But you must flout my
insufficiency?

Good troth you do me wrong (good-sooth you do) In such disdainfull
manner, me to wooe.

But fare you well; perforce I must confesse, I thought you Lord of more
true gentlenesse. Oh, that a Lady of one man refus'd,

Should of another therefore be abus'd.

Enter

Lys. She sees not Hermia: Hermia sleepe thou there, And neuer maist
thou come Lysander neere; For as a surfeit of the sweetest things

The deepest loathing to the stomacke brings: Or as the heresies that
men do leaue,

Are hated most of those that did deceiue: So thou, my surfeit, and my
heresie,

Of all be hated; but the most of me;

And all my powers addresse your loue and might, To honour Helen, and to
be her Knight.

Enter.

Her. Helpe me Lysander, helpe me; do thy best To plucke this crawling
serpent from my brest. Aye me, for pitty; what a dreame was here?
Lysander looke, how I do quake with feare: Me-thought a serpent eate my
heart away,

And yet sat smiling at his cruell prey.

Lysander, What remoou'd? Lysander, Lord,

What, out of hearing, gone? No sound, no word? Alacke where are you?
speake and if you heare: Speake of all loues; I sound almost with
feare. No, then I well perceiue you are not nye, Either death or you
Ile finde immediately. Enter.



Actus Tertius.

Enter the Clownes.

Bot. Are we all met?

Quin. Pat, pat, and here's a maruailous conuenient place for our
rehearsall. This greene plot shall be our stage, this hauthorne brake
our tyring house, and we will do it in action, as we will do it before
the Duke

Bot. Peter Quince?

Peter. What saist thou, bully Bottome?

Bot. There are things in this Comedy of Piramus and Thisby, that will
neuer please. First, Piramus must draw a sword to kill himselfe; which
the Ladies cannot abide. How answere you that?

Snout. Berlaken, a parlous feare

Star. I beleeue we must leaue the killing out, when all is done

Bot. Not a whit, I haue a deuice to make all well. Write me a
Prologue, and let the Prologue seeme to say, we will do no harme with
our swords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeede: and for the more
better assurance, tell them, that I Piramus am not Piramus, but Bottome
the Weauer; this will put them out of feare

Quin. Well, we will haue such a Prologue, and it shall be written in
eight and sixe

Bot. No, make it two more, let it be written in eight and eight

Snout. Will not the Ladies be afear'd of the Lyon?   Star. I feare
it, I promise you

Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with your selues, to bring in
(God shield vs) a Lyon among Ladies, is a most dreadfull thing. For
there is not a more fearefull wilde foule then your Lyon liuing: and
wee ought to looke to it

Snout. Therefore another Prologue must tell he is not a Lyon

Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and halfe his face must be seene
through the Lyons necke, and he himselfe must speake through, saying
thus, or to the same defect; Ladies, or faire Ladies, I would wish you,
or I would request you, or I would entreat you, not to feare, not to
tremble: my life for yours. If you thinke I come hither as a Lyon, it
were pitty of my life. No, I am no such thing, I am a man as other men
are; and there indeed let him name his name, and tell him plainly hee
is Snug the ioyner

Quin. Well, it shall be so; but there is two hard things, that is,
to bring the Moone-light into a chamber: for you know Piramus and
Thisby meete by Moonelight

Sn. Doth the Moone shine that night wee play our play?

Bot. A Calender, a Calender, looke in the Almanack, finde out
Moone-shine, finde out Moone-shine. Enter Pucke.

Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night

Bot. Why then may you leaue a casement of the great chamber window
(where we play) open, and the Moone may shine in at the casement

Quin. I, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a
lanthorne, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present the person of
Moone-shine. Then there is another thing, we must haue a wall in the
great Chamber; for Piramus and Thisby (saies the story) did talke
through the chinke of a wall

Sn. You can neuer bring in a wall. What say you Bottome?

Bot. Some man or other must present wall, and let him haue some
Plaster, or some Lome, or some rough cast about him, to signifie wall;
or let him hold his fingers thus; and through that cranny shall Piramus
and Thisby whisper

Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit downe euery
mothers sonne, and rehearse your parts. Piramus, you begin; when you
haue spoken your speech, enter into that Brake, and so euery one
according to his cue.

Enter Robin.

Rob. What hempen home-spuns haue we swaggering here,

So neere the Cradle of the Faierie Queene? What, a Play toward? Ile be
an auditor,

An Actor too perhaps, if I see cause

Quin. Speake Piramus: Thisby stand forth

Pir. Thisby, the flowers of odious sauors sweete

Quin. Odours, odours

Pir. Odours sauors sweete,

So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby deare. But harke, a voyce: stay
thou but here a while, And by and by I will to thee appeare.

Exit. Pir.

Puck. A stranger Piramus, then ere plaid here

This. Must I speake now?

Pet. I marry must you. For you must vnderstand he goes but to see a
noyse that he heard, and is to come againe

Thys. Most radiant Piramus, most Lilly white of hue, Of colour like
the red rose on triumphant bryer, Most brisky Iuuenall, and eke most
louely Iew, As true as truest horse, that yet would neuer tyre, Ile
meete thee Piramus, at Ninnies toombe

Pet. Ninus toombe man: why, you must not speake that yet; that you
answere to Piramus: you speake all your part at once, cues and all.
Piramus enter, your cue is past; it is neuer tyre

Thys. O, as true as truest horse, that yet would neuer tyre:

Pir. If I were faire, Thisby I were onely thine

Pet. O monstrous. O strange. We are hanted; pray masters, flye
masters, helpe.

The Clownes all Exit.

Puk. Ile follow you, Ile leade you about a Round, Through bogge,
through bush, through brake, through bryer, Sometime a horse Ile be,
sometime a hound: A hogge, a headlesse beare, sometime a fire, And
neigh, and barke, and grunt, and rore, and burne, Like horse, hound,
hog, beare, fire, at euery turne. Enter.

Enter Piramus with the Asse head.

Bot. Why do they run away? This is a knauery of them to make me
afeard.

Enter Snowt

Sn. O Bottom, thou art chang'd; What doe I see on thee?

Bot. What do you see? You see an Asse-head of your owne, do you?

Enter Peter Quince.

Pet. Blesse thee Bottome, blesse thee; thou art translated. Enter.

Bot. I see their knauery; this is to make an asse of me, to fright me
if they could; but I will not stirre from this place, do what they can.
I will walke vp and downe here, and I will sing that they shall heare I
am not afraid. The Woosell cocke, so blacke of hew,

With Orenge-tawny bill.

The Throstle, with his note so true,

The Wren and little quill

Tyta. What Angell wakes me from my flowry bed?   Bot. The Finch, the
Sparrow, and the Larke, The plainsong Cuckow gray;

Whose note full many a man doth marke,

And dares not answere, nay.

For indeede, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? Who would giue
a bird the lye, though he cry Cuckow, neuer so?

Tyta. I pray thee gentle mortall, sing againe, Mine eare is much
enamored of thy note;

On the first view to say, to sweare I loue thee. So is mine eye
enthralled to thy shape.

And thy faire vertues force (perforce) doth moue me

Bot. Me-thinkes mistresse, you should haue little reason for that:
and yet to say the truth, reason and loue keepe little company
together, nowadayes. The more the pittie, that some honest neighbours
will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleeke vpon occasion

Tyta. Thou art as wise, as thou art beautifull

Bot. Not so neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this
wood, I haue enough to serue mine owne turne

Tyta. Out of this wood, do not desire to goe, Thou shalt remaine
here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit of no common rate:

The Summer still doth tend vpon my state, And I doe loue thee;
therefore goe with me, Ile giue thee Fairies to attend on thee;

And they shall fetch thee Iewels from the deepe, And sing, while thou
on pressed flowers dost sleepe: And I will purge thy mortall
grossenesse so, That thou shalt like an airie spirit go.

Enter Pease-blossome, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseede, and foure Fairies.

Fai. Ready; and I, and I, and I, Where shall we go?   Tita. Be kinde
and curteous to this Gentleman, Hop in his walkes, and gambole in his
eies, Feede him with Apricocks, and Dewberries, With purple Grapes,
greene Figs, and Mulberries, The honie-bags steale from the humble
Bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighes, And light them at
the fierie-Glow-wormes eyes, To haue my loue to bed, and to arise:

And plucke the wings from painted Butterflies, To fan the Moone-beames
from his sleeping eies. Nod to him Elues, and doe him curtesies

1.Fai. Haile mortall, haile

2.Fai. Haile

3.Fai. Haile

Bot. I cry your worships mercy hartily; I beseech your worships
name

Cob. Cobweb

Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb: if
I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you.

Your name honest Gentleman?

Pease. Pease Blossome

Bot. I pray you commend me to mistresse Squash, your mother, and to
master Peascod your father. Good master Pease-blossome, I shal desire
of you more acquaintance to. Your name I beseech you sir?

Mus. Mustard-seede

Peas. Pease-blossome

Bot. Good master Mustard seede, I know your patience well: that same
cowardly gyant-like Oxe beefe hath deuoured many a gentleman of your
house. I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I
desire you more acquaintance, good Master Mustard-seede

Tita. Come waite vpon him, lead him to my bower. The Moone
me-thinks, lookes with a watrie eie, And when she weepes, weepe euerie
little flower, Lamenting some enforced chastitie.

Tye vp my louers tongue, bring him silently. Enter.

Enter King of Pharies, solus.

Ob. I wonder if Titania be awak't;

Then what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on, in
extremitie.

Enter Pucke.

Here comes my messenger: how now mad spirit, What night-rule now about
this haunted groue?   Puck. My Mistris with a monster is in loue, Neere
to her close and consecrated bower, While she was in her dull and
sleeping hower, A crew of patches, rude Mechanicals,

That worke for bread vpon Athenian stals, Were met together to rehearse
a Play,

Intended for great Theseus nuptiall day:

The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort, Who Piramus presented,
in their sport,

Forsooke his Scene, and entred in a brake, When I did him at this
aduantage take,

An Asses nole I fixed on his head.

Anon his Thisbie must be answered,

And forth my Mimmick comes: when they him spie, As Wilde-geese, that
the creeping Fowler eye, Or russed-pated choughes, many in sort

(Rising and cawing at the guns report)

Seuer themselues, and madly sweepe the skye: So at his sight, away his
fellowes flye,

And at our stampe, here ore and ore one fals; He murther cries, and
helpe from Athens cals. Their sense thus weake, lost with their feares
thus strong, Made senslesse things begin to do them wrong. For briars
and thornes at their apparell snatch, Some sleeues, some hats, from
yeelders all things catch, I led them on in this distracted feare,

And left sweete Piramus translated there: When in that moment (so it
came to passe) Tytania waked, and straightway lou'd an Asse

Ob. This fals out better then I could deuise: But hast thou yet
lacht the Athenians eyes, With the loue iuyce, as I bid thee doe?

Rob. I tooke him sleeping (that is finisht to) And the Athenian woman
by his side,

That when he wak't, of force she must be eyde. Enter Demetrius and
Hermia.

Ob. Stand close, this is the same Athenian

Rob. This is the woman, but not this the man

Dem. O why rebuke you him that loues you so? Lay breath so bitter on
your bitter foe

Her. Now I but chide, but I should vse thee worse. For thou (I
feare) hast giuen me cause to curse, If thou hast slaine Lysander in
his sleepe, Being oreshooes in bloud, plunge in the deepe, and kill me
too:

The Sunne was not so true vnto the day,

As he to me. Would he haue stollen away,

From sleeping Hermia? Ile beleeue as soone This whole earth may be
bord, and that the Moone May through the Center creepe, and so
displease Her brothers noonetide, with th'Antipodes. It cannot be but
thou hast murdred him,

So should a murtherer looke, so dead, so grim

Dem. So should the murderer looke, and so should I, Pierst through
the heart with your stearne cruelty: Yet you the murderer lookes as
bright as cleare, As yonder Venus in her glimmering spheare

Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he? Ah good Demetrius,
wilt thou giue him me?   Dem. I'de rather giue his carkasse to my
hounds

Her. Out dog, out cur, thou driu'st me past the bounds Of maidens
patience. Hast thou slaine him then? Henceforth be neuer numbred among
men.

Oh, once tell true, euen for my sake,

Durst thou a lookt vpon him, being awake? And hast thou kill'd him
sleeping? O braue tutch: Could not a worme, an Adder do so much?

An Adder did it: for with doubler tongue

Then thine (thou serpent) neuer Adder stung

Dem. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood, I am not guiltie of
Lysanders blood:

Nor is he dead for ought that I can tell

Her. I pray thee tell me then that he is well

Dem. And if I could, what should I get therefore?   Her. A
priuiledge, neuer to see me more; And from thy hated presence part I:
see me no more Whether he be dead or no.

Enter.

Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vaine, Here therefore
for a while I will remaine. So sorrowes heauinesse doth heauier grow:
For debt that bankrout slip doth sorrow owe, Which now in some slight
measure it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay.

Lie downe.

Ob. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite And laid the loue
iuyce on some true loues sight: Of thy misprision, must perforce ensue

Some true loue turn'd, and not a false turn'd true

Rob. Then fate ore-rules, that one man holding troth, A million
faile, confounding oath on oath

Ob. About the wood, goe swifter then the winde, And Helena of Athens
looke thou finde.

All fancy sicke she is, and pale of cheere, With sighes of loue, that
costs the fresh bloud deare. By some illusion see thou bring her heere,
Ile charme his eyes against she doth appeare

Robin. I go, I go, looke how I goe,

Swifter then arrow from the Tartars bowe. Enter.

Ob. Flower of this purple die,

Hit with Cupids archery,

Sinke in apple of his eye,

When his loue he doth espie,

Let her shine as gloriously

As the Venus of the sky.

When thou wak'st if she be by,

Beg of her for remedy.

Enter Pucke.

Puck. Captaine of our Fairy band,

Helena is heere at hand,

And the youth, mistooke by me,

Pleading for a Louers fee.

Shall we their fond Pageant see?

Lord, what fooles these mortals be!

Ob. Stand aside: the noyse they make,

Will cause Demetrius to awake

Puck. Then will two at once wooe one,

That must needs be sport alone:

And those things doe best please me,

That befall preposterously.

Enter Lysander and Helena.

Lys. Why should you think y I should wooe in scorn? Scorne and
derision neuer comes in teares: Looke when I vow I weepe; and vowes so
borne, In their natiuity all truth appeares.

How can these things in me, seeme scorne to you? Bearing the badge of
faith to proue them true

Hel. You doe aduance your cunning more & more, When truth kils
truth, O diuelish holy fray! These vowes are Hermias. Will you giue her
ore? Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh. Your vowes to
her, and me, (put in two scales) Will euen weigh, and both as light as
tales

Lys. I had no iudgement, when to her I swore

Hel. Nor none in my minde, now you giue her ore

Lys. Demetrius loues her, and he loues not you.

Awa.

Dem. O Helen, goddesse, nimph, perfect, diuine, To what, my loue,
shall I compare thine eyne! Christall is muddy, O how ripe in show,

Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealed
white, high Taurus snow, Fan'd with the Easterne winde, turnes to a
crow, When thou holdst vp thy hand. O let me kisse This Princesse of
pure white, this seale of blisse

Hell. O spight! O hell! I see you are all bent To set against me,
for your merriment:

If you were ciuill, and knew curtesie,

You would not doe me thus much iniury.

Can you not hate me, as I know you doe,

But you must ioyne in soules to mocke me to? If you are men, as men you
are in show,

You would not vse a gentle Lady so;

To vow, and sweare, and superpraise my parts, When I am sure you hate
me with your hearts. You both are Riuals, and loue Hermia;

And now both Riuals to mocke Helena.

A trim exploit, a manly enterprize,

To coniure teares vp in a poore maids eyes, With your derision; none of
noble sort,

Would so offend a Virgin, and extort

A poore soules patience, all to make you sport,   Lysa. You are vnkind
Demetrius; be not so, For you loue Hermia; this you know I know; And
here with all good will, with all my heart, In Hermias loue I yeeld you
vp my part;

And yours of Helena, To me bequeath,

Whom I do loue, and will do to my death

Hel. Neuer did mockers wast more idle breth

Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia, I will none: If ere I lou'd her, all
that loue is gone. My heart to her, but as guest-wise soiourn'd, And
now to Helen it is home return'd,

There to remaine

Lys. It is not so

De. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, Lest to thy perill
thou abide it deare.

Looke where thy Loue comes, yonder is thy deare. Enter Hermia.

Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, The eare more
quicke of apprehension makes, Wherein it doth impaire the seeing sense,
It paies the hearing double recompence.

Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander found, Mine eare (I thanke it)
brought me to that sound. But why vnkindly didst thou leaue me so?

Lysan. Why should hee stay whom Loue doth presse to go?   Her. What
loue could presse Lysander from my side?   Lys. Lysanders loue (that
would not let him bide) Faire Helena; who more engilds the night, Then
all yon fierie oes, and eies of light. Why seek'st thou me? Could not
this make thee know, The hate I bare thee, made me leaue thee so? Her.
You speake not as you thinke; it cannot be

Hel. Loe, she is one of this confederacy, Now I perceiue they haue
conioyn'd all three, To fashion this false sport in spight of me.
Iniurous Hermia, most vngratefull maid,

Haue you conspir'd, haue you with these contriu'd To baite me, with
this foule derision?

Is all the counsell that we two haue shar'd, The sisters vowes, the
houres that we haue spent, When wee haue chid the hasty footed time,
For parting vs; O, is all forgot?

All schooledaies friendship, child-hood innocence? We Hermia, like two
Artificiall gods,

Haue with our needles, created both one flower, Both on one sampler,
sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key: As
if our hands, our sides, voices, and mindes Had beene incorporate. So
we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,

But yet a vnion in partition,

Two louely berries molded on one stem,

So with two seeming bodies, but one heart, Two of the first life coats
in Heraldry,

Due but to one and crowned with one crest. And will you rent our
ancient loue asunder, To ioyne with men in scorning your poore friend?
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly.

Our sexe as well as I, may chide you for it, Though I alone doe feele
the iniurie

Her. I am amazed at your passionate words, I scorne you not; It
seemes that you scorne me

Hel. Haue you not set Lysander, as in scorne To follow me, and
praise my eies and face? And made your other loue, Demetrius

(Who euen but now did spurne me with his foote) To call me goddesse,
nimph, diuine, and rare, Precious, celestiall? Wherefore speakes he
this To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander Denie your loue (so
rich within his soule) And tender me (forsooth) affection,

But by your setting on, by your consent?

What though I be not so in grace as you,

So hung vpon with loue, so fortunate?

(But miserable most, to loue vnlou'd)

This you should pittie, rather then despise

Her. I vnderstand not what you meane by this

Hel. I, doe, perseuer, counterfeit sad lookes, Make mouthes vpon me
when I turne my backe, Winke each at other, hold the sweete iest vp:
This sport well carried, shall be chronicled. If you haue any pittie,
grace, or manners, You would not make me such an argument:

But fare ye well, 'tis partly mine owne fault, Which death or absence
soone shall remedie

Lys. Stay gentle Helena, heare my excuse, My loue, my life, my
soule, faire Helena

Hel. O excellent!

Her. Sweete, do not scorne her so

Dem. If she cannot entreate, I can compell

Lys. Thou canst compell, no more then she entreate. Thy threats haue
no more strength then her weak praise. Helen, I loue thee, by my life I
doe;

I sweare by that which I will lose for thee, To proue him false, that
saies I loue thee not

Dem. I say, I loue thee more then he can do

Lys. If thou say so, withdraw and proue it too

Dem. Quick, come

Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this?   Lys. Away, you Ethiope

Dem. No, no, Sir, seeme to breake loose; Take on as you would
follow,

But yet come not: you are a tame man, go

Lys. Hang off thou cat, thou bur; vile thing let loose, Or I will
shake thee from me like a serpent

Her. Why are you growne so rude?

What change is this sweete Loue?

Lys. Thy loue? out tawny Tartar, out;

Out loathed medicine; O hated poison hence

Her. Do you not iest?

Hel. Yes sooth, and so do you

Lys. Demetrius: I will keepe my word with thee

Dem. I would I had your bond: for I perceiue A weake bond holds you;
Ile not trust your word

Lys. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? Although I
hate her, Ile not harme her so

Her. What, can you do me greater harme then hate? Hate me,
wherefore? O me, what newes my Loue? Am not I Hermia? Are not you
Lysander?

I am as faire now, as I was ere while.

Since night you lou'd me: yet since night you left me. Why then you
left me (O the gods forbid)

In earnest, shall I say?

Lys. I, by my life;

And neuer did desire to see thee more.

Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt; Be certaine, nothing
truer: 'tis no iest, That I do hate thee, and loue Helena

Her. O me, you iugler, you canker blossome, You theefe of loue;
What, haue you come by night, And stolne my loues heart from him?

Hel. Fine yfaith:

Haue you no modesty, no maiden shame,

No touch of bashfulnesse? What, will you teare Impatient answers from
my gentle tongue?

Fie, fie, you counterfeit, you puppet, you

Her. Puppet? why so? I, that way goes the game. Now I perceiue that
she hath made compare Betweene our statures, she hath vrg'd her height,
And with her personage, her tall personage, Her height (forsooth) she
hath preuail'd with him. And are you growne so high in his esteeme,
Because I am so dwarfish, and so low?

How low am I, thou painted May-pole? Speake, How low am I? I am not yet
so low,

But that my nailes can reach vnto thine eyes

Hel. I pray you though you mocke me, gentlemen, Let her not hurt me;
I was neuer curst:

I haue no gift at all in shrewishnesse;

I am a right maide for my cowardize;

Let her not strike me: you perhaps may thinke, Because she is something
lower then my selfe, That I can match her

Her. Lower? harke againe

Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me, I euermore did loue
you Hermia,

Did euer keepe your counsels, neuer wronged you, Saue that in loue vnto
Demetrius,

I told him of your stealth vnto this wood. He followed you, for loue I
followed him, But he hath chid me hence, and threatned me To strike me,
spurne me, nay to kill me too; And now, so you will let me quiet go,

To Athens will I beare my folly backe,

And follow you no further. Let me go.

You see how simple, and how fond I am

Her. Why get you gone: who ist that hinders you?   Hel. A foolish
heart, that I leaue here behinde

Her. What, with Lysander?

Her. With Demetrius

Lys. Be not afraid, she shall not harme thee Helena

Dem. No sir, she shall not, though you take her part

Hel. O when she's angry, she is keene and shrewd, She was a vixen
when she went to schoole, And though she be but little, she is fierce

Her. Little againe? Nothing but low and little? Why will you suffer
her to flout me thus? Let me come to her

Lys. Get you gone you dwarfe,

You minimus, of hindring knot-grasse made, You bead, you acorne

Dem. You are too officious,

In her behalfe that scornes your seruices. Let her alone, speake not of
Helena,

Take not her part. For if thou dost intend Neuer so little shew of loue
to her,

Thou shalt abide it

Lys. Now she holds me not,

Now follow if thou dar'st, to try whose right, Of thine or mine is most
in Helena

Dem. Follow? Nay, Ile goe with thee cheeke by iowle.

Exit Lysander and Demetrius.

Her. You Mistris, all this coyle is long of you. Nay, goe not backe

Hel. I will not trust you I,

Nor longer stay in your curst companie.

Your hands then mine, are quicker for a fray, My legs are longer though
to runne away.

Enter Oberon and Pucke.

Ob. This is thy negligence, still thou mistak'st, Or else committ'st
thy knaueries willingly

Puck. Beleeue me, King of shadowes, I mistooke, Did not you tell me,
I should know the man, By the Athenian garments he hath on?

And so farre blamelesse proues my enterprize, That I haue nointed an
Athenians eies,

And so farre am I glad, it so did sort,

As this their iangling I esteeme a sport

Ob. Thou seest these Louers seeke a place to fight, Hie therefore
Robin, ouercast the night,

The starrie Welkin couer thou anon,

With drooping fogge as blacke as Acheron, And lead these testie Riuals
so astray,

As one come not within anothers way.

Like to Lysander, sometime frame thy tongue, Then stirre Demetrius vp
with bitter wrong; And sometime raile thou like Demetrius;

And from each other looke thou leade them thus, Till ore their browes,
death-counterfeiting, sleepe With leaden legs, and Battie-wings doth
creepe: Then crush this hearbe into Lysanders eie, Whose liquor hath
this vertuous propertie, To take from thence all error, with his might,
and make his eie-bals role with wonted sight. When they next wake, all
this derision

Shall seeme a dreame, and fruitless vision, And backe to Athens shall
the Louers wend With league, whose date till death shall neuer end.
Whiles I in this affaire do thee imploy,

Ile to my Queene, and beg her Indian Boy; And then I will her charmed
eie release

From monsters view, and all things shall be peace

Puck. My Fairie Lord, this must be done with haste, For night-swift
Dragons cut the Clouds full fast, And yonder shines Auroras harbinger;

At whose approach Ghosts wandring here and there, Troope home to
Church-yards; damned spirits all, That in crosse-waies and flouds haue
buriall, Alreadie to their wormie beds are gone;

For feare least day should looke their shames vpon, They wilfully
themselues exile from light, And must for aye consort with blacke browd
night

Ob. But we are spirits of another sort: I, with the mornings loue
haue oft made sport, And like a Forrester, the groues may tread, Euen
till the Easterne gate all fierie red, Opening on Neptune, With faire
blessed beames, Turnes into yellow gold, his salt greene streames. But
not withstanding haste, make no delay: We may effect this businesse,
yet ere day

Puck. Vp and downe, vp and downe, I will leade them vp and downe: I
am fear'd in field and towne. Goblin, lead them vp and downe: here
comes one. Enter Lysander.

Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius?

Speake thou now

Rob. Here villaine, drawne & readie. Where art thou?   Lys. I will
be with thee straight

Rob. Follow me then to plainer ground. Enter Demetrius.

Dem. Lysander, speake againe;

Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? Speake in some bush: Where
dost thou hide thy head?   Rob. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the
stars, Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, And wilt not
come? Come recreant, come thou childe, Ile whip thee with a rod. He is
defil'd

That drawes a sword on thee

Dem. Yea, art thou there?

Ro. Follow my voice, we'l try no manhood here. Enter.

Lys. He goes before me, and still dares me on, When I come where he
cals, then he's gone. The Villaine is much lighter heel'd then I: I
followed fast, but faster he did flye;

shifting places.

That fallen am I in darke vneuen way,

And here wil rest me. Come thou gentle day:

lye down.

For if but once thou shew me thy gray light, Ile finde Demetrius, and
reuenge this spight. Enter Robin and Demetrius.

Rob. Ho, ho, ho; coward, why com'st thou not?   Dem. Abide me, if
thou dar'st. For well I wot, Thou runst before me, shifting euery
place, And dar'st not stand, nor looke me in the face. Where art thou?

Rob. Come hither, I am here

Dem. Nay then thou mock'st me; thou shalt buy this deere,

If euer I thy face by day-light see.

Now goe thy way: faintnesse constraineth me, To measure out my length
on this cold bed, By daies approach looke to be visited.

Enter Helena.

Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night, Abate thy houres, shine
comforts from the East, That I may backe to Athens by day-light,

From these that my poore companie detest; And sleepe that sometime
shuts vp sorrowes eie, Steale me a while from mine owne companie.

Sleepe.

Rob. Yet but three? Come one more,

Two of both kindes makes vp foure.

Here she comes, curst and sad,

Cupid is a knauish lad,

Enter Hermia.

Thus to make poore females mad

Her. Neuer so wearie, neuer so in woe, Bedabbled with the dew, and
torne with briars, I can no further crawle, no further goe;

My legs can keepe no pace with my desires. Here will I rest me till the
breake of day, Heauens shield Lysander, if they meane a fray

Rob. On the ground sleepe sound,

Ile apply your eie gentle louer, remedy.

When thou wak'st, thou tak'st

True delight in the sight of thy former Ladies eye, And the Country
Prouerb knowne,

That euery man should take his owne,

In your waking shall be showne.

Iacke shall haue Iill, nought shall goe ill. The man shall haue his
Mare againe, and all shall bee well.

They sleepe all the Act.



Actus Quartus.

Enter Queene of Fairies, and Clowne, and Fairies, and the King behinde

them.

Tita. Come, sit thee downe vpon this flowry bed, While I thy amiable
cheekes doe coy,

And sticke muske roses in thy sleeke smoothe head, And kisse thy faire
large eares, my gentle ioy

Clow. Where's Peaseblossome?

Peas. Ready

Clow. Scratch my head, Pease-blossome. Wher's Mounsieuer Cobweb

Cob. Ready

Clowne. Mounsieur Cobweb, good Mounsier get your weapons in your
hand, & kill me a red hipt humble-Bee, on the top of a thistle; and
good Mounsieur bring mee the hony bag. Doe not fret your selfe too much
in the action, Mounsieur; and good mounsieur haue a care the hony bag
breake not, I would be loth to haue you ouerflowne with a hony-bag
signiour. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed?

Mus. Ready

Clo. Giue me your neafe, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you leaue your
courtesie good Mounsieur

Mus. What's your will?

Clo. Nothing good Mounsieur, but to help Caualery Cobweb to scratch.
I must to the Barbers Mounsieur, for me-thinkes I am maruellous hairy
about the face. And I am such a tender asse, if my haire do but tickle
me, I must scratch

Tita. What, wilt thou heare some musicke, my sweet loue

Clow. I haue a reasonable good eare in musicke. Let vs haue the
tongs and the bones.

Musicke Tongs, Rurall Musicke.

Tita. Or say sweete Loue, what thou desirest to eat

Clowne. Truly a pecke of Prouender; I could munch your good dry
Oates. Me-thinkes I haue a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay,
sweete hay hath no fellow

Tita. I haue a venturous Fairy,

That shall seeke the Squirrels hoard,

And fetch thee new Nuts

Clown. I had rather haue a handfull or two of dried pease. But I
pray you let none of your people stirre me, I haue an exposition of
sleepe come vpon me

Tyta. Sleepe thou, and I will winde thee in my arms, Fairies be
gone, and be alwaies away.

So doth the woodbine, the sweet Honisuckle, Gently entwist; the female
Iuy so

Enrings the barky fingers of the Elme.

O how I loue thee! how I dote on thee!

Enter Robin goodfellow and Oberon.

Ob. Welcome good Robin:

Seest thou this sweet sight?

Her dotage now I doe begin to pitty.

For meeting her of late behinde the wood, Seeking sweet sauours for
this hatefull foole, I did vpbraid her, and fall out with her. For she
his hairy temples then had rounded, With coronet of fresh and fragrant
flowers. And that same dew which somtime on the buds, Was wont to swell
like round and orient pearles; Stood now within the pretty flouriets
eyes, Like teares that did their owne disgrace bewaile. When I had at
my pleasure taunted her,

And she in milde termes beg'd my patience, I then did aske of her, her
changeling childe, Which straight she gaue me, and her fairy sent To
beare him to my Bower in Fairy Land.

And now I haue the Boy, I will vndoe

This hatefull imperfection of her eyes.

And gentle Pucke, take this transformed scalpe, From off the head of
this Athenian swaine; That he awaking when the other doe,

May all to Athens backe againe repaire,

And thinke no more of this nights accidents, But as the fierce vexation
of dreame.

But first I will release the Fairy Queene. Be thou as thou wast wont to
be;

See as thou wast wont to see.

Dians bud, or Cupids flower,

Hath such force and blessed power.

Now my Titania wake you my sweet Queene

Tita. My Oberon, what visions haue I seene! Me-thought I was
enamoured of an asse

Ob. There lies your loue

Tita. How came these things to passe?

Oh, how mine eyes doth loath this visage now!   Ob. Silence a while.
Robin take off his head: Titania, musick call, and strike more dead
Then common sleepe; of all these, fine the sense

Tita. Musicke, ho musicke, such as charmeth sleepe.

Musick still.

Rob. When thou wak'st, with thine owne fooles eies peepe

Ob. Sound musick; come my Queen, take hands with me And rocke the
ground whereon these sleepers be. Now thou and I new in amity,

And will to morrow midnight, solemnly

Dance in Duke Theseus house triumphantly, And blesse it to all faire
posterity.

There shall the paires of faithfull Louers be Wedded, with Theseus, all
in iollity

Rob. Faire King attend, and marke,

I doe heare the morning Larke,

Ob. Then my Queene in silence sad,

Trip we after the nights shade;

We the Globe can compasse soone,

Swifter then the wandering Moone

Tita. Come my Lord, and in our flight, Tell me how it came this
night,

That I sleeping heere was found,

Sleepers Lye still.

With these mortals on the ground.

Exeunt.

Winde Hornes.

Enter Theseus, Egeus, Hippolita and all his traine.

Thes. Goe one of you, finde out the Forrester, For now our
obseruation is perform'd;

And since we haue the vaward of the day,

My Loue shall heare the musicke of my hounds. Vncouple in the Westerne
valley, let them goe; Dispatch I say, and finde the Forrester.

We will faire Queene, vp to the Mountains top, And marke the musicall
confusion

Of hounds and eccho in coniunction

Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once. When in a wood of Creete
they bayed the Beare With hounds of Sparta; neuer did I heare

Such gallant chiding. For besides the groues, The skies, the
fountaines, euery region neere, Seeme all one mutuall cry. I neuer
heard

So musicall a discord, such sweet thunder

Thes. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kinde, So flew'd, so
sanded, and their heads are hung With eares that sweepe away the
morning dew, Crooke kneed, and dew-lapt, like Thessalian Buls, Slow in
pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bels, Each vnder each. A cry more
tuneable

Was neuer hallowed to, nor cheer'd with horne, In Creete, in Sparta,
nor in Thessaly;

Iudge when you heare. But soft, what nimphs are these?   Egeus. My
Lord, this is my daughter heere asleepe, And this Lysander, this
Demetrius is,

This Helena, olde Nedars Helena,

I wonder of this being heere together

The. No doubt they rose vp early, to obserue The right of May; and
hearing our intent, Came heere in grace of our solemnity.

But speake Egeus, is not this the day

That Hermia should giue answer of her choice?   Egeus. It is, my Lord

Thes. Goe bid the hunts-men wake them with their hornes.

Hornes and they wake.

Shout within, they all start vp.

Thes. Good morrow friends: Saint Valentine is past, Begin these wood
birds but to couple now?   Lys. Pardon my Lord

Thes. I pray you all stand vp.

I know you two are Riuall enemies.

How comes this gentle concord in the world, That hatred is so farre
from iealousie,

To sleepe by hate, and feare no enmity

Lys. My Lord, I shall reply amazedly,

Halfe sleepe, halfe waking. but as yet, I sweare, I cannot truly say
how I came heere.

But as I thinke (for truly would I speake) And now I doe bethinke me,
so it is;

I came with Hermia hither. Our intent

Was to be gone from Athens, where we might be Without the perill of the
Athenian Law

Ege. Enough, enough, my Lord: you haue enough; I beg the Law, the
Law, vpon his head:

They would have stolne away, they would Demetrius, Thereby to haue
defeated you and me:

You of your wife, and me of my consent;

Of my consent, that she should be your wife

Dem. My Lord, faire Helen told me of their stealth, Of this their
purpose hither, to this wood, And I in furie hither followed them;

Faire Helena, in fancy followed me.

But my good Lord, I wot not by what not by what power, (But by some
power it is) my loue

To Hermia (melted as the snow)

Seems to me now as the remembrance of an idle gaude, Which in my
childehood I did doat vpon:

And all the faith, the vertue of my heart, The obiect and the pleasure
of mine eye,

Is onely Helena. To her, my Lord,

Was I betroth'd, ere I see Hermia,

But like a sickenesse did I loath this food, But as in health, come to
my naturall taste, Now doe I wish it, loue it, long for it,

And will for euermore be true to it

Thes. Faire Louers, you are fortunately met; Of this discourse we
shall heare more anon. Egeus, I will ouer-beare your will;

For in the Temple, by and by with vs,

These couples shall eternally be knit.

And for the morning now is something worne, Our purpos'd hunting shall
be set aside.

Away, with vs to Athens; three and three, Wee'll hold a feast in great
solemnitie.

Come Hippolita.

Exit Duke and Lords.

Dem. These things seeme small & vndistinguishable, Like farre off
mountaines turned into Clouds

Her. Me-thinks I see these things with parted eye, When euery thing
seemes double

Hel. So me-thinkes:

And I haue found Demetrius, like a iewell, Mine owne, and not mine
owne

Dem. It seemes to mee,

That yet we sleepe, we dreame. Do not you thinke, The Duke was heere,
and bid vs follow him?   Her. Yea, and my Father

Hel. And Hippolita

Lys. And he bid vs follow to the Temple

Dem. Why then we are awake; lets follow him, and by the way let vs
recount our dreames.

Bottome wakes.

Exit Louers.

Clo. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer. My next is, most
faire Piramus. Hey ho. Peter Quince? Flute the bellowes-mender? Snout
the tinker? Starueling? Gods my life! Stolne hence, and left me
asleepe: I haue had a most rare vision. I had a dreame, past the wit of
man, to say, what dreame it was. Man is but an Asse, if he goe about to
expound this dreame. Me-thought I was, there is no man can tell what.
Me-thought I was, and me-thought I had. But man is but a patch'd foole,
if he will offer to say, what me-thought I had. The eye of man hath not
heard, the eare of man hath not seen, mans hand is not able to taste,
his tongue to conceiue, nor his heart to report, what my dreame was. I
will get Peter Quince to write a ballet of this dreame, it shall be
called Bottomes Dreame, because it hath no bottome; and I will sing it
in the latter end of a play, before the Duke. Peraduenture, to make it
the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death.

Enter.

Enter Quince, Flute, Thisbie, Snout, and Starueling.

Quin. Haue you sent to Bottomes house? Is he come home yet?

Staru. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt hee is transported

This. If he come not, then the play is mar'd. It goes not forward,
doth it?

Quin. It is not possible: you haue not a man in all Athens, able to
discharge Piramus but he

This. No, hee hath simply the best wit of any handycraft man in
Athens

Quin. Yea, and the best person too, and hee is a very Paramour, for
a sweet voyce

This. You must say, Paragon. A Paramour is (God blesse vs) a thing
of nought.

Enter Snug the Ioyner.

Snug. Masters, the Duke is comming from the Temple, and there is two
or three Lords & Ladies more married. If our sport had gone forward, we
had all bin made men

This. O sweet bully Bottome: thus hath he lost sixepence a day,
during his life; he could not haue scaped sixpence a day. And the Duke
had not giuen him sixpence a day for playing Piramus, Ile be hang'd. He
would haue deserued it. Sixpence a day in Piramus, or nothing. Enter
Bottome.

Bot. Where are these Lads? Where are these hearts?   Quin. Bottome, o
most couragious day! O most happie houre!

Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask me not what. For if
I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you euery thing as it
fell out

Qu. Let vs heare, sweet Bottome

Bot. Not a word of me: all that I will tell you, is, that the Duke
hath dined. Get your apparell together, good strings to your beards,
new ribbands to your pumps, meete presently at the Palace, euery man
looke ore his part: for the short and the long is, our play is
preferred: In any case let Thisby haue cleane linnen: and let not him
that playes the Lion, paire his nailes, for they shall hang out for the
Lions clawes. And most deare Actors, eate no Onions, nor Garlicke; for
wee are to vtter sweete breath, and I doe not doubt but to heare them
say, it is a sweet Comedy. No more words: away, go away.

Exeunt.



Actus Quintus.

Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Egeus and his Lords.

Hip. 'Tis strange my Theseus, y these louers speake of

The. More strange then true. I neuer may beleeue These anticke
fables, nor these Fairy toyes, Louers and mad men haue such seething
braines, Such shaping phantasies, that apprehend more Then coole reason
euer comprehends.

The Lunaticke, the Louer, and the Poet,

Are of imagination all compact.

One sees more diuels then vaste hell can hold; That is the mad man. The
Louer, all as franticke, Sees Helens beauty in a brow of Egipt.

The Poets eye in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance From heauen to
earth, from earth to heauen. And as imagination bodies forth the forms
of things Vnknowne; the Poets pen turnes them to shapes, And giues to
aire nothing, a locall habitation, And a name. Such tricks hath strong
imagination, That if it would but apprehend some ioy,

It comprehends some bringer of that ioy.

Or in the night, imagining some feare,

Howe easie is a bush suppos'd a Beare?

Hip. But all the storie of the night told ouer, And all their minds
transfigur'd so together, More witnesseth than fancies images,

And growes to something of great constancie; But howsoeuer, strange,
and admirable.

Enter louers, Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena.

The. Heere come the louers, full of ioy and mirth: Ioy, gentle
friends, ioy and fresh dayes

Of loue accompany your hearts

Lys. More then to vs, waite in your royall walkes, your boord, your
bed

The. Come now, what maskes, what dances shall we haue,

To weare away this long age of three houres, Between our after supper,
and bed-time?

Where is our vsuall manager of mirth?

What Reuels are in hand? Is there no play, To ease the anguish of a
torturing houre? Call Egeus

Ege. Heere mighty Theseus

The. Say, what abridgement haue you for this euening? What maske?
What musicke? How shall we beguile The lazie time, if not with some
delight?   Ege. There is a breefe how many sports are rife: Make choise
of which your Highnesse will see first

Lis. The battell with the Centaurs to be sung By an Athenian Eunuch,
to the Harpe

The. Wee'l none of that. That haue I told my Loue In glory of my
kinsman Hercules

Lis. The riot of the tipsie Bachanals, Tearing the Thracian singer,
in their rage?   The. That is an old deuice, and it was plaid When I
from Thebes came last a Conqueror

Lis. The thrice three Muses, mourning for the death of learning,
late deceast in beggerie

The. That is some Satire keene and criticall, Not sorting with a
nuptiall ceremonie

Lis. A tedious breefe Scene of yong Piramus, And his loue Thisby;
very tragicall mirth

The. Merry and tragicall? Tedious, and briefe? That is, hot ice, and
wondrous strange snow. How shall wee finde the concord of this
discord?

Ege. A play there is, my Lord, some ten words long, Which is as
breefe, as I haue knowne a play; But by ten words, my Lord, it is too
long; Which makes it tedious. For in all the play, There is not one
word apt, one Player fitted. And tragicall my noble Lord it is: for
Piramus Therein doth kill himselfe. Which when I saw Rehearst, I must
confesse, made mine eyes water: But more merrie teares, the passion of
loud laughter Neuer shed

Thes. What are they that do play it?

Ege. Hard handed men, that worke in Athens heere, Which neuer
labour'd in their mindes till now; And now haue toyled their vnbreathed
memories With this same play, against your nuptiall

The. And we will heare it

Hip. No my noble Lord, it is not for you. I haue heard It ouer, and
it is nothing, nothing in the world; Vnless you can finde sport in
their intents, Extreamely stretched, and cond with cruell paine, To doe
you seruice

Thes. I will heare that play. For neuer any thing Can be amisse,
when simplenesse and duty tender it. Goe bring them in, and take your
places, Ladies

Hip. I loue not to see wretchednesse orecharged; And duty in his
seruice perishing

Thes. Why gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing

Hip. He saies, they can doe nothing in this kinde

Thes. The kinder we, to giue them thanks for nothing Our sport shall
be, to take what they mistake; And what poore duty cannot doe, noble
respect Takes it in might, not merit.

Where I haue come, great Clearkes haue purposed To greete me with
premeditated welcomes;

Where I haue seene them shiuer and looke pale, Make periods in the
midst of sentences,

Throttle their practiz'd accent in their feares, And in conclusion,
dumbly haue broke off, Not paying me a welcome. Trust me sweete, Out of
this silence yet, I pickt a welcome: And in the modesty of fearefull
duty,

I read as much, as from the ratling tongue Of saucy and audacious
eloquence.

Loue therefore, and tongue-tide simplicity, In least, speake most, to
my capacity

Egeus. So please your Grace, the Prologue is addrest

Duke. Let him approach.

Flor. Trum.

Enter the Prologue. Quince.

Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should thinke,
we come not to offend, But with good will. To shew our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.

Consider then, we come but in despight.

We do not come, as minding to content you, Our true intent is. All for
your delight, We are not heere. That you should here repent you, The
Actors are at hand; and by their show, You shall know all, that you are
like to know

Thes. This fellow doth not stand vpon points

Lys. He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he knowes not the
stop. A good morall my lord. it is not enough to speake, but to speake
true

Hip. Indeed hee hath plaid on his Prologue, like a childe on a
Recorder, a sound, but not in gouernment

Thes. His speech was like a tangled chaine: nothing impaired, but
all disordered. Who is next?

Tawyer with a Trumpet before them.

Enter Pyramus and Thisby, Wall, Moone-shine, and Lyon.

Prol. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show, But wonder on, till
truth make all things plaine. This man is Piramus, if you would know;

This beauteous Lady, Thisby is certaine.

This man, with lyme and rough-cast, doth present Wall, that vile wall,
which did these louers sunder: And through walls chink (poor soules)
they are content To whisper. At the which, let no man wonder. This man,
with Lanthorne, dog, and bush of thorne, Presenteth moone-shine. For if
you will know, By moone-shine did these Louers thinke no scorne To meet
at Ninus toombe, there, there to wooe: This grizly beast (which Lyon
hight by name) The trusty Thisby, comming first by night, Did scarre
away, or rather did affright:

And as she fled, her mantle she did fall; Which Lyon vile with bloody
mouth did staine. Anon comes Piramus, sweet youth and tall, And findes
his Thisbies Mantle slaine;

Whereat, with blade, with bloody blamefull blade, He brauely broacht
his boiling bloudy breast, And Thisby, tarrying in Mulberry shade,

His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, Let Lyon, Moone-shine,
Wall, and Louers twaine, At large discourse, while here they doe
remaine.

Exit all but Wall.

Thes. I wonder if the Lion be to speake

Deme. No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when many Asses doe.

Exit Lyon, Thisbie, and Mooneshine.

Wall. In this same Interlude, it doth befall, That I, one Snowt (by
name) present a wall: And such a wall, as I would haue you thinke, That
had in it a crannied hole or chinke: Through which the Louers, Piramus
and Thisbie Did whisper often, very secretly.

This loame, this rough-cast, and this stone doth shew, That I am that
same Wall; the truth is so. And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearfull Louers are to whisper

Thes. Would you desire Lime and Haire to speake better?

Deme. It is the wittiest partition, that euer I heard discourse, my
Lord

Thes. Pyramus drawes neere the Wall, silence. Enter Pyramus.

Pir. O grim lookt night, o night with hue so blacke, O night, which
euer art, when day is not: O night, o night, alacke, alacke, alacke, I
feare my Thisbies promise is forgot.

And thou o wall, thou sweet and louely wall, That stands between her
fathers ground and mine, Thou wall, o Wall, o sweet and louely wall,
Shew me thy chinke, to blinke through with mine eine. Thankes courteous
wall. Ioue shield thee well for this. But what see I? No Thisbie doe I
see.

O wicked wall, through whom I see no blisse, Curst be thy stones for
thus deceiuing mee

Thes. The wall me-thinkes being sensible, should curse againe

Pir. No in truth sir, he should not. Deceiuing me, Is Thisbies cue;
she is to enter, and I am to spy Her through the wall. You shall see it
will fall. Enter Thisbie.

Pat as I told you; yonder she comes

This. O wall, full often hast thou heard my mones, For parting my
faire Piramus, and me

My cherry lips haue often kist thy stones; Thy stones with Lime and
Haire knit vp in thee

Pyra. I see a voyce; now will I to the chinke, To spy and I can
heare my Thisbies face. Thisbie?   This. My Loue thou art, my Loue I
thinke

Pir. Thinke what thou wilt, I am thy Louers grace, And like Limander
am I trusty still

This. And like Helen till the Fates me kill

Pir. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true

This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you

Pir. O kisse me through the hole of this vile wall

This. I kisse the wals hole, not your lips at all

Pir. Wilt thou at Ninnies tombe meete me straight way?

This. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay

Wall. Thus haue I Wall, my part discharged so; And being done, thus
Wall away doth go.

Exit Clow.

Du. Now is the morall downe between the two Neighbours

Dem. No remedie my Lord, when Wals are so wilfull, to heare without
warning

Dut. This is the silliest stuffe that ere I heard

Du. The best in this kind are but shadowes, and the worst are no
worse, if imagination amend them

Dut. It must be your imagination then, & not theirs

Duk. If wee imagine no worse of them then they of themselues, they
may passe for excellent men. Here com two noble beasts, in a man and a
Lion.

Enter Lyon and Moone-shine

Lyon. You Ladies, you (whose gentle harts do feare The smallest
monstrous mouse that creepes on floore) May now perchance, both quake
and tremble heere, When Lion rough in wildest rage doth roare. Then
know that I, one Snug the Ioyner am

A Lion fell, nor else no Lions dam:

For if I should as Lion come in strife

Into this place, 'twere pittie of my life

Du. A verie gentle beast, and of good conscience

Dem. The verie best at a beast, my Lord, y ere I saw

Lis. This Lion is a verie Fox for his valor

Du. True, and a Goose for his discretion

Dem. Not so my Lord: for his valor cannot carrie his discretion, and
the fox carries the Goose

Du. His discretion I am sure cannot carrie his valor: for the Goose
carries not the Fox. It is well; leaue it to his discretion, and let vs
hearken to the Moone

Moone. This Lanthorne doth the horned Moone present

De. He should haue worne the hornes on his head

Du. Hee is no crescent, and his hornes are inuisible, within the
circumference

Moon. This lanthorne doth the horned Moone present: My selfe, the
man i'th Moone doth seeme to be

Du. This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man Should be
put into the Lanthorne. How is it els the man i'th Moone?

Dem. He dares not come there for the candle. For you see, it is
already in snuffe

Dut. I am wearie of this Moone; would he would change

Du. It appeares by his smal light of discretion, that he is in the
wane: but yet in courtesie, in all reason, we must stay the time

Lys. Proceed Moone

Moon. All that I haue to say, is to tell you, that the Lanthorne is
the Moone; I, the man in the Moone; this thorne bush; my thorne bush;
and this dog, my dog

Dem. Why all these should be in the Lanthorne: for they are in the
Moone. But silence, heere comes Thisby. Enter Thisby.

This. This is old Ninnies tombe: where is my loue?   Lyon. Oh.

The Lion roares, Thisby runs off.

Dem. Well roar'd Lion

Du. Well run Thisby

Dut. Well shone Moone.

Truly the Moone shines with a good grace

Du. Wel mouz'd Lion

Dem. And then came Piramus

Lys. And so the Lion vanisht.

Enter Piramus.

Pyr. Sweet Moone, I thank thee for thy sunny beames, I thanke thee
Moone, for shining now so bright: For by thy gracious, golden,
glittering beames, I trust to taste of truest Thisbies sight. But stay:
O spight! but marke, poore Knight, What dreadful dole is heere?

Eyes do you see! How can it be!

O dainty Ducke: O Deere!

Thy mantle good; what staind with blood!

Approch you furies fell:

O Fates! come, come: Cut thred and thrum, Quaile, crush, conclude, and
quell

Du. This passion, and the death of a deare friend, Would go neere to
make a man looke sad

Dut. Beshrew my heart, but I pittie the man

Pir. O wherefore Nature, did'st thou Lions frame? Since lion vilde
hath heere deflour'd my deere: Which is: no, no, which was the fairest
Dame That liu'd, that lou'd, that like'd, that look'd with cheere. Come
teares, confound: Out sword, and wound The pap of Piramus:

I, that left pap, where heart doth hop;

Thus dye I, thus, thus, thus.

Now am I dead, now am I fled, my soule is in the sky, Tongue lose thy
light, Moone take thy flight, Now dye, dye, dye, dye, dye

Dem. No Die, but an ace for him; for he is but one

Lis. Lesse then an ace man. For he is dead, he is nothing

Du. With the helpe of a Surgeon, he might yet recouer, and proue an
Asse

Dut. How chance Moone-shine is gone before? Thisby comes backe, and
findes her Louer. Enter Thisby.

Duke. She wil finde him by starre-light. Heere she comes, and her
passion ends the play

Dut. Me thinkes shee should not vse a long one for such a Piramus: I
hope she will be breefe

Dem. A Moth wil turne the ballance, which Piramus which Thisby is
the better

Lys. She hath spyed him already, with those sweete eyes

Dem. And thus she meanes, videlicit

This. Asleepe my Loue? What, dead my Doue? O Piramus arise:

Speake, speake. Quite dumbe? Dead, dead? A tombe Must couer thy sweet
eyes.

These Lilly Lips, this cherry nose,

These yellow Cowslip cheekes

Are gone, are gone: Louers make mone:

His eyes were greene as Leekes.

O Sisters three, come, come to mee,

With hands as pale as Milke,

Lay them in gore, since you haue shore

with sheeres, his thred of silke.

Tongue not a word: Come trusty sword:

Come blade, my brest imbrue:

And farwell friends, thus Thisbie ends;

Adieu, adieu, adieu

Duk. Moone-shine & Lion are left to burie the dead

Deme. I, and Wall too

Bot. No, I assure you, the wall is downe, that parted their Fathers.
Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or to heare a Bergomask dance,
betweene two of our company?   Duk. No Epilogue, I pray you; for your
play needs no excuse. Neuer excuse; for when the plaiers are all dead,
there need none to be blamed. Marry, if hee that writ it had plaid
Piramus, and hung himselfe in Thisbies garter, it would haue beene a
fine Tragedy: and so it is truely, and very notably discharg'd. but
come, your Burgomaske; let your Epilogue alone.

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelue. Louers to bed, 'tis
almost Fairy time.

I feare we shall out-sleepe the comming morne, As much as we this night
haue ouer-watcht. This palpable grosse play hath well beguil'd The
heauy gate of night. Sweet friends to bed. A fortnight hold we this
solemnity.

In nightly Reuels; and new iollitie.

Exeunt.

Enter Pucke.

Puck. Now the hungry Lyons rores,

And the Wolfe beholds the Moone:

Whilest the heauy ploughman snores,

All with weary taske fore-done.

Now the wasted brands doe glow,

Whil'st the scritch-owle, scritching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in
woe,

In remembrance of a shrowd.

Now it is the time of night,

That the graues, all gaping wide,

Euery one lets forth his spright,

In the Church-way paths to glide,

And we Fairies, that do runne,

By the triple Hecates teame,

From the presence of the Sunne,

Following darkenesse like a dreame,

Now are frollicke; not a Mouse

Shall disturbe this hallowed house.

I am sent with broome before,

To sweep the dust behinde the doore.

Enter King and Queene of Fairies, with their traine.

Ob. Through the house giue glimmering light, By the dead and drowsie
fier,

Euerie Elfe and Fairie spright,

Hop as light as bird from brier,

And this Ditty after me, sing and dance it trippinglie,   Tita. First
rehearse this song by roate, To each word a warbling note.

Hand in hand, with Fairie grace,

Will we sing and blesse this place.

The Song.

Now vntill the breake of day,

Through this house each Fairy stray.

To the best Bride-bed will we,

Which by vs shall blessed be:

And the issue there create,

Euer shall be fortunate:

So shall all the couples three,

Euer true in louing be:

And the blots of Natures hand,

Shall not in their issue stand.

Neuer mole, harelip, nor scarre,

nor mark prodigious, such as are

Despised in Natiuitie,

Shall vpon their children be.

With this field dew consecrate,

Euery Fairy take his gate,

And each seuerall chamber blesse,

Through this Pallace with sweet peace,

Euer shall in safety rest.

And the owner of it blest.

Trip away, make no stay;

Meet me all by breake of day

Robin. If we shadowes haue offended,

Thinke but this (and all is mended)

That you haue but slumbred heere,

While these Visions did appeare.

And this weake and idle theame,

No more yeelding but a dreame,

Gentles, doe not reprehend.

If you pardon, we will mend.

And as I am an honest Pucke,

If we haue vnearned lucke,

Now to scape the Serpents tongue,

We will make amends ere long:

Else the Pucke a lyar call.

So good night vnto you all.

Giue me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends.

FINIS. A MIDSOMMER Nights Dreame.



The Merchant of Venice

Actus primus.

Enter Anthonio, Salarino, and Salanio.

Anthonio. In sooth I know not why I am so sad, It wearies me: you say
it wearies you;

But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuffe 'tis made of,
whereof it is borne, I am to learne: and such a Want-wit sadnesse makes
of mee,

That I haue much ado to know my selfe

Sal. Your minde is tossing on the Ocean, There where your Argosies
with portly saile Like Signiors and rich Burgers on the flood, Or as it
were the Pageants of the sea,

Do ouer-peere the pettie Traffiquers

That curtsie to them, do them reuerence

As they flye by them with their wouen wings

Salar. Beleeue me sir, had I such venture forth, The better part of
my affections, would

Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Plucking the grasse to know
where sits the winde, Peering in Maps for ports, and peers, and rodes:
And euery obiect that might make me feare Misfortune to my ventures,
out of doubt

Would make me sad

Sal. My winde cooling my broth,

Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought

What harme a winde too great might doe at sea. I should not see the
sandie houre-glasse runne, But I should thinke of shallows, and of
flats, And see my wealthy Andrew docks in sand,

Vailing her high top lower then her ribs

To kisse her buriall; should I goe to Church And see the holy edifice
of stone,

And not bethinke me straight of dangerous rocks, Which touching but my
gentle Vessels side Would scatter all her spices on the streame, Enrobe
the roring waters with my silkes,

And in a word, but euen now worth this,

And now worth nothing. Shall I haue the thought To thinke on this, and
shall I lacke the thought That such a thing bechaunc'd would make me
sad? But tell me, I know Anthonio

Is sad to thinke vpon his merchandize

Anth. Beleeue me no, I thanke my fortune for it, My ventures are not
in one bottome trusted, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate

Vpon the fortune of this present yeere:

Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad

Sola. Why then you are in loue

Anth. Fie, fie

Sola. Not in loue neither: then let vs say you are sad Because you
are not merry: and 'twere as easie For you to laugh and leape, and say
you are merry Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Ianus, Nature
hath fram'd strange fellowes in her time: Some that will euermore peepe
through their eyes, And laugh like Parrats at a bag-piper.

And other of such vineger aspect,

That they'll not shew their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor sweare
the iest be laughable. Enter Bassanio, Lorenso, and Gratiano.

Sola. Heere comes Bassanio,

Your most noble Kinsman,

Gratiano, and Lorenso. Faryewell,

We leaue you now with better company

Sala. I would haue staid till I had made you merry, If worthier
friends had not preuented me

Ant. Your worth is very deere in my regard. I take it your owne
busines calls on you, And you embrace th' occasion to depart

Sal. Good morrow my good Lords

Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when? You grow
exceeding strange: must it be so?   Sal. Wee'll make our leysures to
attend on yours.

Exeunt. Salarino, and Solanio.

Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you haue found Anthonio We two will
leaue you, but at dinner time I pray you haue in minde where we must
meete

Bass. I will not faile you

Grat. You looke not well signior Anthonio, You haue too much respect
vpon the world: They loose it that doe buy it with much care, Beleeue
me you are maruellously chang'd

Ant. I hold the world but as the world Gratiano, A stage, where
euery man must play a part, And mine a sad one

Grati. Let me play the foole,

With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come, And let my Liuer rather
heate with wine,

Then my heart coole with mortifying grones. Why should a man whose
bloud is warme within, Sit like his Grandsire, cut in Alablaster?
Sleepe when he wakes? and creep into the Iaundies By being peeuish? I
tell thee what Anthonio, I loue thee, and it is my loue that speakes:
There are a sort of men, whose visages

Do creame and mantle like a standing pond, And do a wilfull stilnesse
entertaine,

With purpose to be drest in an opinion

Of wisedome, grauity, profound conceit,

As who should say, I am sir an Oracle,

And when I ope my lips, let no dogge barke. O my Anthonio, I do know of
these

That therefore onely are reputed wise,

For saying nothing; when I am verie sure

If they should speake, would almost dam those eares Which hearing them
would call their brothers fooles: Ile tell thee more of this another
time.

But fish not with this melancholly baite

For this foole Gudgin, this opinion:

Come good Lorenzo, faryewell a while,

Ile end my exhortation after dinner

Lor. Well, we will leaue you then till dinner time. I must be one of
these same dumbe wise men. For Gratiano neuer let's me speake

Gra. Well, keepe me company but two yeares mo, Thou shalt not know
the sound of thine owne tongue

Ant. Far you well, Ile grow a talker for this geare

Gra. Thankes ifaith, for silence is onely commendable In a neats
tongue dri'd, and a maid not vendible. Enter.

Ant. It is that any thing now

Bas. Gratiano speakes an infinite deale of nothing, more then any
man in all Venice, his reasons are two graines of wheate hid in two
bushels of chaffe: you shall seeke all day ere you finde them, & when
you haue them they are not worth the search

An. Well: tel me now, what Lady is the same To whom you swore a
secret Pilgrimage

That you to day promis'd to tel me of?

Bas. Tis not vnknowne to you Anthonio

How much I haue disabled mine estate,

By something shewing a more swelling port Then my faint meanes would
grant continuance: Nor do I now make mone to be abridg'd

From such a noble rate, but my cheefe care Is to come fairely off from
the great debts Wherein my time something too prodigall

Hath left me gag'd: to you Anthonio

I owe the most in money, and in loue,

And from your loue I haue a warrantie

To vnburthen all my plots and purposes,

How to get cleere of all the debts I owe

An. I pray you good Bassanio let me know it, And if it stand as you
your selfe still do, Within the eye of honour, be assur'd

My purse, my person, my extreamest meanes Lye all vnlock'd to your
occasions

Bass. In my schoole dayes, when I had lost one shaft I shot his
fellow of the selfesame flight The selfesame way, with more aduised
watch To finde the other forth, and by aduenturing both, I oft found
both. I vrge this child-hoode proofe, Because what followes is pure
innocence.

I owe you much, and like a wilfull youth, That which I owe is lost: but
if you please To shoote another arrow that selfe way

Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, As I will watch the
ayme: Or to finde both, Or bring your latter hazard backe againe, And
thankfully rest debter for the first

An. You know me well, and herein spend but time To winde about my
loue with circumstance, And out of doubt you doe more wrong

In making question of my vttermost

Then if you had made waste of all I haue: Then doe but say to me what I
should doe

That in your knowledge may by me be done, And I am prest vnto it:
therefore speake

Bass. In Belmont is a Lady richly left, And she is faire, and fairer
then that word, Of wondrous vertues, sometimes from her eyes I did
receiue faire speechlesse messages: Her name is Portia, nothing
vndervallewd

To Cato's daughter, Brutus Portia,

Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, For the four windes blow
in from euery coast Renowned sutors, and her sunny locks

Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, Which makes her seat of
Belmont Cholchos strond, And many Iasons come in quest of her.

O my Anthonio, had I but the meanes

To hold a riuall place with one of them,

I haue a minde presages me such thrift,

That I should questionlesse be fortunate

Anth. Thou knowst that all my fortunes are at sea, Neither haue I
money, nor commodity

To raise a present summe, therefore goe forth Try what my credit can in
Venice doe,

That shall be rackt euen to the vttermost, To furnish thee to Belmont
to faire Portia. Goe presently enquire, and so will I

Where money is, and I no question make

To haue it of my trust, or for my sake.

Exeunt.

Enter Portia with her waiting woman Nerissa.

Portia. By my troth Nerrissa, my little body is a wearie of this
great world

Ner. You would be sweet Madam, if your miseries were in the same
abundance as your good fortunes are: and yet for ought I see, they are
as sicke that surfet with too much, as they that starue with nothing;
it is no smal happinesse therefore to bee seated in the meane,
superfluitie comes sooner by white haires, but competencie liues
longer

Portia. Good sentences, and well pronounc'd

Ner. They would be better if well followed

Portia. If to doe were as easie as to know what were good to doe,
Chappels had beene Churches, and poore mens cottages Princes Pallaces:
it is a good Diuine that followes his owne instructions; I can easier
teach twentie what were good to be done, then be one of the twentie to
follow mine owne teaching: the braine may deuise lawes for the blood,
but a hot temper leapes ore a colde decree, such a hare is madnesse the
youth, to skip ore the meshes of good counsaile the cripple; but this
reason is not in fashion to choose me a husband: O mee, the word
choose, I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike,
so is the wil of a liuing daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father:
it is not hard Nerrissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none

Ner. Your father was euer vertuous, and holy men at their death haue
good inspirations, therefore the lotterie that hee hath deuised in
these three chests of gold, siluer, and leade, whereof who chooses his
meaning, chooses you, wil no doubt neuer be chosen by any rightly, but
one who you shall rightly loue: but what warmth is there in your
affection towards any of these Princely suters that are already come?

Por. I pray thee ouer-name them, and as thou namest them, I will
describe them, and according to my description leuell at my affection

Ner. First there is the Neopolitane Prince

Por. I that's a colt indeede, for he doth nothing but talke of his
horse, and hee makes it a great appropriation to his owne good parts
that he can shoo him himselfe: I am much afraid my Ladie his mother
plaid false with a Smyth

Ner. Than is there the Countie Palentine

Por. He doth nothing but frowne (as who should say, and you will not
haue me, choose: he heares merrie tales and smiles not, I feare hee
will proue the weeping Phylosopher when he growes old, being so full of
vnmannerly sadnesse in his youth.) I had rather to be married to a
deaths head with a bone in his mouth, then to either of these: God
defend me from these two

Ner. How say you by the French Lord, Mounsier Le Boune?

Por. God made him, and therefore let him passe for a man, in truth I
know it is a sinne to be a mocker, but he, why he hath a horse better
then the Neopolitans, a better bad habite of frowning then the Count
Palentine, he is euery man in no man, if a Trassell sing, he fals
straight a capring, he will fence with his owne shadow. If I should
marry him, I should marry twentie husbands: if hee would despise me, I
would forgiue him, for if he loue me to madnesse, I should neuer
requite him

Ner. What say you then to Fauconbridge, the yong Baron of England?

Por. You know I say nothing to him, for hee vnderstands not me, nor I
him: he hath neither Latine, French, nor Italian, and you will come
into the Court & sweare that I haue a poore pennie-worth in the
English: hee is a proper mans picture, but alas who can conuerse with a
dumbe show? how odly he is suited, I thinke he bought his doublet in
Italie, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germanie, and his
behauiour euery where

Ner. What thinke you of the other Lord his neighbour?   Por. That he
hath a neighbourly charitie in him, for he borrowed a boxe of the eare
of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him againe when hee was able:
I thinke the Frenchman became his suretie, and seald vnder for another

Ner. How like you the yong Germaine, the Duke of Saxonies Nephew?

Por. Very vildely in the morning when hee is sober, and most vildely
in the afternoone when hee is drunke: when he is best, he is a little
worse then a man, and when he is worst, he is little better then a
beast: and the worst fall that euer fell, I hope I shall make shift to
go without him

Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right Casket, you
should refuse to performe your Fathers will, if you should refuse to
accept him

Por. Therefore for feare of the worst, I pray thee set a deepe
glasse of Reinish-wine on the contrary Casket, for if the diuell be
within, and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will
doe any thing Nerrissa ere I will be married to a spunge

Ner. You neede not feare Lady the hauing any of these Lords, they
haue acquainted me with their determinations, which is indeede to
returne to their home, and to trouble you with no more suite, vnlesse
you may be won by some other sort then your Fathers imposition,
depending on the Caskets

Por. If I liue to be as olde as Sibilla, I will dye as chaste as
Diana: vnlesse I be obtained by the manner of my Fathers will: I am
glad this parcell of wooers are so reasonable, for there is not one
among them but I doate on his verie absence: and I wish them a faire
departure

Ner. Doe you not remember Ladie in your Fathers time, a Venecian, a
Scholler and a Souldior that came hither in companie of the Marquesse
of Mountferrat?   Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I thinke, so was
hee call'd

Ner. True Madam, hee of all the men that euer my foolish eyes look'd
vpon, was the best deseruing a faire Lady

Por. I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of thy praise.

Enter a Seruingman.

Ser. The four Strangers seeke you Madam to take their leaue: and
there is a fore-runner come from a fift, the Prince of Moroco, who
brings word the Prince his Maister will be here to night

Por. If I could bid the fift welcome with so good heart as I can bid
the other foure farewell, I should be glad of his approach: if he haue
the condition of a Saint, and the complexion of a diuell, I had rather
hee should shriue me then wiue me. Come Nerrissa, sirra go before;
whiles wee shut the gate vpon one wooer, another knocks at the doore.

Exeunt.

Enter Bassanio with Shylocke the Iew.

Shy. Three thousand ducates, well

Bass. I sir, for three months

Shy. For three months, well

Bass. For the which, as I told you,

Anthonio shall be bound

Shy. Anthonio shall become bound, well

Bass. May you sted me? Will you pleasure me? Shall I know your
answere

Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months, and Anthonio bound

Bass. Your answere to that

Shy. Anthonio is a good man

Bass. Haue you heard any imputation to the contrary

Shy. Ho no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying he is a good man, is to
haue you vnderstand me that he is sufficient, yet his meanes are in
supposition: he hath an Argosie bound to Tripolis, another to the
Indies, I vnderstand moreouer vpon the Ryalta, he hath a third at
Mexico, a fourth for England, and other ventures hee hath squandred
abroad, but ships are but boords, Saylers but men, there be land rats,
and water rats, water theeues, and land theeues, I meane Pyrats, and
then there is the perrill of waters, windes, and rocks: the man is not
withstanding sufficient, three thousand ducats, I thinke I may take his
bond

Bas. Be assured you may

Iew. I will be assured I may: and that I may be assured, I will
bethinke mee, may I speake with Anthonio?   Bass. If it please you to
dine with vs

Iew. Yes, to smell porke, to eate of the habitation which your
Prophet the Nazarite coniured the diuell into: I will buy with you,
sell with you, talke with you, walke with you, and so following: but I
will not eate with you, drinke with you, nor pray with you. What newes
on the Ryalta, who is he comes here? Enter Anthonio.

Bass. This is signior Anthonio

Iew. How like a fawning publican he lookes. I hate him for he is a
Christian:

But more, for that in low simplicitie

He lends out money gratis, and brings downe The rate of vsance here
with vs in Venice. If I can catch him once vpon the hip,

I will feede fat the ancient grudge I beare him. He hates our sacred
Nation, and he railes Euen there where Merchants most doe congregate On
me, my bargaines, and my well-worne thrift, Which he cals interrest:
Cursed by my Trybe If I forgiue him

Bass. Shylock, doe you heare

Shy. I am debating of my present store, And by the neere gesse of my
memorie

I cannot instantly raise vp the grosse

Of full three thousand ducats: what of that? Tuball a wealthy Hebrew of
my Tribe

Will furnish me: but soft, how many months Doe you desire? Rest you
faire good signior, Your worship was the last man in our mouthes

Ant. Shylocke, albeit I neither lend nor borrow By taking, nor by
giuing of excesse,

Yet to supply the ripe wants of my friend, Ile breake a custome: is he
yet possest

How much he would?

Shy. I, I, three thousand ducats

Ant. And for three months

Shy. I had forgot, three months, you told me so. Well then, your
bond: and let me see, but heare you, Me thoughts you said, you neither
lend nor borrow Vpon aduantage

Ant. I doe neuer vse it

Shy. When Iacob graz'd his vncle Labans sheepe, This Iacob from our
holy Abram was

(As his wise mother wrought in his behalfe) The third possesser; I, he
was the third

Ant. And what of him, did he take interrest?   Shy. No, not take
interest, not as you would say Directly interest, marke what Iacob
did,

When Laban and himselfe were compremyz'd

That all the eanelings which were streakt and pied Should fall as
Iacobs hier, the Ewes being rancke, In end of Autumne turned to the
Rammes,

And when the worke of generation was

Betweene these woolly breeders in the act, The skilfull shepheard pil'd
me certaine wands, And in the dooing of the deede of kinde,

He stucke them vp before the fulsome Ewes, Who then conceauing, did in
eaning time

Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were Iacobs. This was a way to
thriue, and he was blest: And thrift is blessing if men steale it not

Ant. This was a venture sir that Iacob seru'd for, A thing not in
his power to bring to passe, But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of
heauen. Was this inserted to make interrest good? Or is your gold and
siluer Ewes and Rams?   Shy. I cannot tell, I make it breede as fast,
But note me signior

Ant. Marke you this Bassanio,

The diuell can cite Scripture for his purpose, An euill soule producing
holy witnesse,

Is like a villaine with a smiling cheeke, A goodly apple rotten at the
heart.

O what a goodly outside falsehood hath

Shy. Three thousand ducats, 'tis a good round sum. Three months from
twelue, then let me see the rate

Ant. Well Shylocke, shall we be beholding to you?   Shy. Signior
Anthonio, many a time and oft In the Ryalto you haue rated me

About my monies and my vsances:

Still haue I borne it with a patient shrug, (For suffrance is the badge
of all our Tribe.)

You call me misbeleeuer, cut-throate dog, And spet vpon my Iewish
gaberdine,

And all for vse of that which is mine owne. Well then, it now appeares
you neede my helpe: Goe to then, you come to me, and you say, Shylocke,
we would haue moneyes, you say so: You that did voide your rume vpon my
beard, And foote me as you spurne a stranger curre Ouer your threshold,
moneyes is your suite. What should I say to you? Should I not say, Hath
a dog money? Is it possible

A curre should lend three thousand ducats? or Shall I bend low, and in
a bond-mans key

With bated breath, and whispring humblenesse, Say this: Faire sir, you
spet on me on Wednesday last; You spurn'd me such a day; another time

You cald me dog: and for these curtesies

Ile lend you thus much moneyes

Ant. I am as like to call thee so againe, To spet on thee againe, to
spurne thee too. If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not As to thy
friends, for when did friendship take A breede of barraine mettall of
his friend? But lend it rather to thine enemie,

Who if he breake, thou maist with better face Exact the penalties

Shy. Why looke you how you storme,

I would be friends with you, and haue your loue, Forget the shames that
you haue staind me with, Supplie your present wants, and take no doite
Of vsance for my moneyes, and youle not heare me, This is kinde I
offer

Bass. This were kindnesse

Shy. This kindnesse will I showe,

Goe with me to a Notarie, seale me there

Your single bond, and in a merrie sport

If you repaie me not on such a day,

In such a place, such sum or sums as are

Exprest in the condition, let the forfeite Be nominated for an equall
pound

Of your faire flesh, to be cut off and taken In what part of your bodie
it pleaseth me

Ant. Content infaith, Ile seale to such a bond, And say there is
much kindnesse in the Iew

Bass. You shall not seale to such a bond for me, Ile rather dwell in
my necessitie

Ant. Why feare not man, I will not forfaite it, Within these two
months, that's a month before This bond expires, I doe expect returne

Of thrice three times the valew of this bond

Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians are, Whose owne hard
dealings teaches them suspect The thoughts of others: Praie you tell me
this, If he should breake his daie, what should I gaine By the exaction
of the forfeiture?

A pound of mans flesh taken from a man,

Is not so estimable, profitable neither

As flesh of Muttons, Beefes, or Goates, I say To buy his fauour, I
extend this friendship, If he will take it, so: if not adiew,

And for my loue I praie you wrong me not

Ant. Yes Shylocke, I will seale vnto this bond

Shy. Then meete me forthwith at the Notaries, Giue him direction for
this merrie bond,

And I will goe and purse the ducats straite. See to my house left in
the fearefull gard Of an vnthriftie knaue: and presentlie

Ile be with you.

Enter.

Ant. Hie thee gentle Iew. This Hebrew will turne Christian, he growes
kinde

Bass. I like not faire tearmes, and a villaines minde

Ant. Come on, in this there can be no dismaie, My Shippes come home
a month before the daie.

Exeunt.



Actus Secundus.

Enter Morochus a tawnie Moore all in white, and three or foure
followers

accordingly, with Portia, Nerrissa, and their traine. Flo. Cornets.

Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion,

The shadowed liuerie of the burnisht sunne, To whom I am a neighbour,
and neere bred. Bring me the fairest creature North-ward borne, Where
Phoebus fire scarce thawes the ysicles, And let vs make incision for
your loue,

To proue whose blood is reddest, his or mine. I tell thee Ladie this
aspect of mine

Hath feard the valiant, (by my loue I sweare) The best regarded Virgins
of our Clyme

Haue lou'd it to: I would not change this hue, Except to steale your
thoughts my gentle Queene

Por. In tearmes of choise I am not solie led By nice direction of a
maidens eies:

Besides, the lottrie of my destenie

Bars me the right of voluntarie choosing: But if my Father had not
scanted me,

And hedg'd me by his wit to yeelde my selfe His wife, who wins me by
that meanes I told you, Your selfe (renowned Prince) than stood as
faire As any commer I haue look'd on yet

For my affection

Mor. Euen for that I thanke you,

Therefore I pray you leade me to the Caskets To trie my fortune: By
this Symitare

That slew the Sophie, and a Persian Prince That won three fields of
Sultan Solyman,

I would ore-stare the sternest eies that looke: Out-braue the heart
most daring on the earth: Plucke the yong sucking Cubs from the she
Beare, Yea, mocke the Lion when he rores for pray To win the Ladie. But
alas, the while

If Hercules and Lychas plaie at dice

Which is the better man, the greater throw May turne by fortune from
the weaker hand: So is Alcides beaten by his rage,

And so may I, blinde fortune leading me

Misse that which one vnworthier may attaine, And die with grieuing

Port. You must take your chance,

And either not attempt to choose at all,

Or sweare before you choose, if you choose wrong Neuer to speake to
Ladie afterward

In way of marriage, therefore be aduis'd

Mor. Nor will not, come bring me vnto my chance

Por. First forward to the temple, after dinner Your hazard shall be
made

Mor. Good fortune then,

Cornets.

To make me blest or cursed'st among men.

Exeunt.

Enter the Clowne alone.

Clo. Certainely, my conscience will serue me to run from this Iew my
Maister: the fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me,
Iobbe, Launcelet Iobbe, good Launcelet, or good Iobbe, or good
Launcelet Iobbe, vse your legs, take the start, run awaie: my
conscience saies no; take heede honest Launcelet, take heed honest
Iobbe, or as afore-said honest Launcelet Iobbe, doe not runne, scorne
running with thy heeles; well, the most coragious fiend bids me packe,
fia saies the fiend, away saies the fiend, for the heauens rouse vp a
braue minde saies the fiend, and run; well, my conscience hanging about
the necke of my heart, saies verie wisely to me: my honest friend
Launcelet, being an honest mans sonne, or rather an honest womans
sonne, for indeede my Father did something smack, something grow too;
he had a kinde of taste; wel, my conscience saies Lancelet bouge not,
bouge saies the fiend, bouge not saies my conscience, conscience say I
you counsaile well, fiend say I you counsaile well, to be rul'd by my
conscience I should stay with the Iew my Maister, (who God blesse the
marke) is a kinde of diuell; and to run away from the Iew I should be
ruled by the fiend, who sauing your reuerence is the diuell himselfe:
certainely the Iew is the verie diuell incarnation, and in my
conscience, my conscience is a kinde of hard conscience, to offer to
counsaile me to stay with the Iew; the fiend giues the more friendly
counsaile: I will runne fiend, my heeles are at your commandement, I
will runne.

Enter old Gobbe with a Basket.

Gob. Maister yong-man, you I praie you, which is the waie to Maister
Iewes?

Lan. O heauens, this is my true begotten Father, who being more then
sand-blinde, high grauel blinde, knows me not, I will trie confusions
with him

Gob. Maister yong Gentleman, I praie you which is the waie to
Maister Iewes

Laun. Turne vpon your right hand at the next turning, but at the
next turning of all on your left; marrie at the verie next turning,
turne of no hand, but turn down indirectlie to the Iewes house

Gob. Be Gods sonties 'twill be a hard waie to hit, can you tell me
whether one Launcelet that dwels with him dwell with him or no

Laun. Talke you of yong Master Launcelet, marke me now, now will I
raise the waters; talke you of yong Maister Launcelet?

Gob. No Maister sir, but a poore mans sonne, his Father though I
say't is an honest exceeding poore man, and God be thanked well to
liue

Lan. Well, let his Father be what a will, wee talke of yong Maister
Launcelet

Gob. Your worships friend and Launcelet

Laun. But I praie you ergo old man, ergo I beseech you, talke you of
yong Maister Launcelet

Gob. Of Launcelet, ant please your maistership

Lan. Ergo Maister Lancelet, talke not of maister Lancelet Father,
for the yong gentleman according to fates and destinies, and such odde
sayings, the sisters three, & such branches of learning, is indeede
deceased, or as you would say in plaine tearmes, gone to heauen

Gob. Marrie God forbid, the boy was the verie staffe of my age, my
verie prop

Lau. Do I look like a cudgell or a houell-post, a staffe or a prop:
doe you know me Father

Gob. Alacke the day, I know you not yong Gentleman, but I praie you
tell me, is my boy God rest his soule aliue or dead

Lan. Doe you not know me Father

Gob. Alacke sir I am sand blinde, I know you not

Lan. Nay, indeede if you had your eies you might faile of the
knowing me: it is a wise Father that knowes his owne childe. Well, old
man, I will tell you newes of your son, giue me your blessing, truth
will come to light, murder cannot be hid long, a mans sonne may, but in
the end truth will out

Gob. Praie you sir stand vp, I am sure you are not Lancelet my boy

Lan. Praie you let's haue no more fooling about it, but giue mee
your blessing: I am Lancelet your boy that was, your sonne that is,
your childe that shall be

Gob. I cannot thinke you are my sonne

Lan. I know not what I shall thinke of that: but I am Lancelet the
Iewes man, and I am sure Margerie your wife is my mother

Gob. Her name is Margerie indeede, Ile be sworne if thou be
Lancelet, thou art mine owne flesh and blood: Lord worshipt might he
be, what a beard hast thou got; thou hast got more haire on thy chin,
then Dobbin my philhorse has on his taile

Lan. It should seeme then that Dobbins taile growes backeward. I am
sure he had more haire of his taile then I haue of my face when I last
saw him

Gob. Lord how art thou chang'd: how doost thou and thy Master agree,
I haue brought him a present; how gree you now?

Lan. Well, well, but for mine owne part, as I haue set vp my rest to
run awaie, so I will not rest till I haue run some ground; my Maister's
a verie Iew, giue him a present, giue him a halter, I am famisht in his
seruice. You may tell euerie finger I haue with my ribs: Father I am
glad you are come, giue me your present to one Maister Bassanio, who
indeede giues rare new Liuories, if I serue not him, I will run as far
as God has anie ground. O rare fortune, here comes the man, to him
Father, for I am a Iew if I serue the Iew anie longer.

Enter Bassanio with a follower or two.

Bass. You may doe so, but let it be so hasted that supper be readie
at the farthest by fiue of the clocke: see these Letters deliuered, put
the Liueries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anone to my
lodging

Lan. To him Father

Gob. God blesse your worship

Bass. Gramercie, would'st thou ought with me

Gob. Here's my sonne sir, a poore boy

Lan. Not a poore boy sir, but the rich Iewes man that would sir as
my Father shall specifie

Gob. He hath a great infection sir, as one would say to serue

Lan. Indeede the short and the long is, I serue the Iew, and haue a
desire as my Father shall specifie

Gob. His Maister and he (sauing your worships reuerence) are scarce
catercosins

Lan. To be briefe, the verie truth is, that the Iew hauing done me
wrong, doth cause me as my Father being I hope an old man shall
frutifie vnto you

Gob. I haue here a dish of Doues that I would bestow vpon your
worship, and my suite is

Lan. In verie briefe, the suite is impertinent to my selfe, as your
worship shall know by this honest old man, and though I say it, though
old man, yet poore man my Father

Bass. One speake for both, what would you?   Lan. Serue you sir

Gob. That is the verie defect of the matter sir

Bass. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suite, Shylocke thy
Maister spoke with me this daie, And hath prefer'd thee, if it be
preferment To leaue a rich Iewes seruice, to become

The follower of so poore a Gentleman

Clo. The old prouerbe is verie well parted betweene my Maister
Shylocke and you sir, you haue the grace of God sir, and he hath
enough

Bass. Thou speak'st well; go Father with thy Son, Take leaue of thy
old Maister, and enquire My lodging out, giue him a Liuerie

More garded then his fellowes: see it done

Clo. Father in, I cannot get a seruice, no, I haue nere a tongue in
my head, well: if anie man in Italie haue a fairer table which doth
offer to sweare vpon a booke, I shall haue good fortune; goe too,
here's a simple line of life, here's a small trifle of wiues, alas,
fifteene wiues is nothing, a leuen widdowes and nine maides is a simple
comming in for one man, and then to scape drowning thrice, and to be in
perill of my life with the edge of a featherbed, here are simple
scapes: well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gere:
Father come, Ile take my leaue of the Iew in the twinkling.

Exit Clowne.

Bass. I praie thee good Leonardo thinke on this, These things being
bought and orderly bestowed Returne in haste, for I doe feast to night
My best esteemd acquaintance, hie thee goe

Leon. my best endeuors shall be done herein.

Exit Le.

Enter Gratiano.

Gra. Where's your Maister

Leon. Yonder sir he walkes

Gra. Signior Bassanio

Bas. Gratiano

Gra. I haue a sute to you

Bass. You haue obtain'd it

Gra. You must not denie me, I must goe with you to Belmont

Bass. Why then you must: but heare thee Gratiano, Thou art to wilde,
to rude, and bold of voyce, Parts that become thee happily enough,

And in such eyes as ours appeare not faults; But where they are not
knowne, why there they show Something too liberall, pray thee take
paine To allay with some cold drops of modestie Thy skipping spirit,
least through thy wilde behauiour I be misconsterd in the place I goe
to,

And loose my hopes

Gra. Signor Bassanio, heare me,

If I doe not put on a sober habite,

Talke with respect, and sweare but now and than, Weare prayer bookes in
my pocket, looke demurely, Nay more, while grace is saying hood mine
eyes Thus with my hat, and sigh and say Amen:

Vse all the obseruance of ciuillitie

Like one well studied in a sad ostent

To please his Grandam, neuer trust me more

Bas. Well, we shall see your bearing

Gra. Nay but I barre to night, you shall not gage me By what we doe
to night

Bas. No that were pittie,

I would intreate you rather to put on

Your boldest suite of mirth, for we haue friends That purpose
merriment: but far you well, I haue some businesse

Gra. And I must to Lorenso and the rest, But we will visite you at
supper time.

Exeunt.

Enter Iessica and the Clowne.

Ies. I am sorry thou wilt leaue my Father so, Our house is hell, and
thou a merrie diuell Did'st rob it of some taste of tediousnesse; But
far thee well, there is a ducat for thee, And Lancelet, soone at supper
shalt thou see Lorenzo, who is thy new Maisters guest,

Giue him this Letter, doe it secretly,

And so farewell: I would not haue my Father see me talke with thee

Clo. Adue, teares exhibit my tongue, most beautifull Pagan, most
sweete Iew, if a Christian doe not play the knaue and get thee, I am
much deceiued; but adue, these foolish drops doe somewhat drowne my
manly spirit: adue.

Enter.

Ies. Farewell good Lancelet.

Alacke, what hainous sinne is it in me

To be ashamed to be my Fathers childe,

But though I am a daughter to his blood,

I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo,

If thou keepe promise I shall end this strife, Become a Christian, and
thy louing wife.

Enter.

Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio.

Lor. Nay, we will slinke away in supper time, Disguise vs at my
lodging, and returne all in an houre

Gra. We haue not made good preparation

Sal. We haue not spoke vs yet of Torch-bearers

Sol. 'Tis vile vnlesse it may be quaintly ordered, And better in my
minde not vndertooke

Lor. 'Tis now but foure of clock, we haue two houres To furnish vs;
friend Lancelet what's the newes. Enter Lancelet with a Letter.

Lan. And it shall please you to breake vp this, shall it seeme to
signifie

Lor. I know the hand, in faith 'tis a faire hand And whiter then the
paper it writ on,

Is the faire hand that writ

Gra. Loue newes in faith

Lan. By your leaue sir

Lor. Whither goest thou?

Lan. Marry sir to bid my old Master the Iew to sup to night with my
new Master the Christian

Lor. Hold here, take this, tell gentle Iessica I will not faile her,
speake it priuately: Go Gentlemen, will you prepare you for this Maske
to night,

I am prouided of a Torch-bearer.

Exit. Clowne

Sal. I marry, ile be gone about it strait

Sol. And so will I

Lor. Meete me and Gratiano at Gratianos lodging Some houre hence

Sal. 'Tis good we do so.

Enter.

Gra. Was not that Letter from faire Iessica?   Lor. I must needes
tell thee all, she hath directed How I shall take her from her Fathers
house, What gold and iewels she is furnisht with, What Pages suite she
hath in readinesse:

If ere the Iew her Father come to heauen, It will be for his gentle
daughters sake; And neuer dare misfortune crosse her foote, Vnlesse she
doe it vnder this excuse,

That she is issue to a faithlesse Iew:

Come goe with me, pervse this as thou goest, Faire Iessica shall be my
Torch-bearer.

Enter.

Enter Iew, and his man that was the Clowne.

Iew. Well, thou shall see, thy eyes shall be thy iudge, The
difference of old Shylocke and Bassanio; What Iessica, thou shalt not
gurmandize

As thou hast done with me: what Iessica?

And sleepe, and snore, and rend apparrell out. Why Iessica I say

Clo. Why Iessica

Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call

Clo. Your worship was wont to tell me

I could doe nothing without bidding.

Enter Iessica.

Ies. Call you? what is your will?

Shy. I am bid forth to supper Iessica,

There are my Keyes: but wherefore should I go? I am not bid for loue,
they flatter me,

But yet Ile goe in hate, to feede vpon

The prodigall Christian. Iessica my girle, Looke to my house, I am
right loath to goe, There is some ill a bruing towards my rest, For I
did dreame of money bags to night

Clo. I beseech you sir goe, my yong Master Doth expect your
reproach

Shy. So doe I his

Clo. And they haue conspired together, I will not say you shall see
a Maske, but if you doe, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell
a bleeding on blacke monday last, at six a clocke ith morning, falling
out that yeere on ashwensday was foure yeere in th' afternoone

Shy. What are their maskes? heare you me Iessica, Lock vp my doores,
and when you heare the drum And the vile squealing of the wry-neckt
Fife, Clamber not you vp to the casements then, Nor thrust your head
into the publique streete To gaze on Christian fooles with varnisht
faces: But stop my houses eares, I meane my casements, Let not the
sound of shallow fopperie enter My sober house. By Iacobs staffe I
sweare, I haue no minde of feasting forth to night: But I will goe: goe
you before me sirra,

Say I will come

Clo. I will goe before sir,

Mistris looke out at window for all this; There will come a Christian
by,

Will be worth a Iewes eye

Shy. What saies that foole of Hagars off-spring? ha

Ies. His words were farewell mistris, nothing else

Shy. The patch is kinde enough, but a huge feeder: Snaile-slow in
profit, but he sleepes by day More then the wilde-cat: drones hiue not
with me, Therefore I part with him, and part with him To one that I
would haue him helpe to waste His borrowed purse. Well Iessica goe in,

Perhaps I will returne immediately;

Doe as I bid you, shut dores after you, fast binde, fast finde,

A prouerbe neuer stale in thriftie minde. Enter.

Ies. Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost, I haue a Father, you a
daughter lost.

Enter.

Enter the Maskers, Gratiano and Salino.

Gra. This is the penthouse vnder which Lorenzo Desired vs to make a
stand

Sal. His houre is almost past

Gra. And it is meruaile he out-dwels his houre, For louers euer run
before the clocke

Sal. O ten times faster Venus Pidgions flye To steale loues bonds
new made, then they are wont To keepe obliged faith vnforfaited

Gra. That euer holds, who riseth from a feast With that keene
appetite that he sits downe? Where is the horse that doth vntread
againe His tedious measures with the vnbated fire, That he did pace
them first: all things that are, Are with more spirit chased then
enioy'd. How like a yonger or a prodigall

The skarfed barke puts from her natiue bay, Hudg'd and embraced by the
strumpet winde: How like a prodigall doth she returne

With ouer-wither'd ribs and ragged sailes, Leane, rent, and begger'd by
the strumpet winde? Enter Lorenzo.

Salino. Heere comes Lorenzo, more of this hereafter

Lor. Sweete friends, your patience for my long abode, Not I, but my
affaires haue made you wait; When you shall please to play the theeues
for wiues Ile watch as long for you then: approach

Here dwels my father Iew. Hoa, who's within?

Iessica aboue.

Iess. Who are you? tell me for more certainty, Albeit Ile sweare that
I do know your tongue

Lor. Lorenzo, and thy Loue

Ies. Lorenzo certaine, and my loue indeed, For who loue I so much?
and now who knowes But you Lorenzo, whether I am yours?

Lor. Heauen and thy thoughts are witness that thou art

Ies. Heere, catch this casket, it is worth the paines, I am glad
'tis night, you do not looke on me, For I am much asham'd of my
exchange:

But loue is blinde, and louers cannot see The pretty follies that
themselues commit, For if they could, Cupid himselfe would blush To see
me thus transformed to a boy

Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer

Ies. What, must I hold a Candle to my shames? They in themselues
goodsooth are too too light. Why, 'tis an office of discouery Loue,

And I should be obscur'd

Lor. So you are sweet,

Euen in the louely garnish of a boy: but come at once, For the close
night doth play the run-away, And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast

Ies. I will make fast the doores and guild my selfe With some more
ducats, and be with you straight

Gra. Now by my hood, a gentle, and no Iew

Lor. Beshrew me but I loue her heartily. For she is wise, if I can
iudge of her.

And faire she is, if that mine eyes be true, And true she is, as she
hath prou'd her selfe: And therefore like her selfe, wise, faire, and
true, Shall she be placed in my constant soule. Enter Iessica.

What, art thou come? on gentlemen, away,

Our masking mates by this time for vs stay. Enter.

Enter Anthonio.

Ant. Who's there?

Gra. Signior Anthonio?

Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest? 'Tis nine a clocke,
our friends all stay for you, No maske to night, the winde is come
about, Bassanio presently will goe aboord,

I haue sent twenty out to seeke for you

Gra. I am glad on't, I desire no more delight Then to be vnder
saile, and gone to night.

Exeunt.

Enter Portia with Morrocho, and both their traines.

Por. Goe, draw aside the curtaines, and discouer The seuerall Caskets
to this noble Prince: Now make your choyse

Mor. The first of gold, who this inscription beares, Who chooseth
me, shall gaine what men desire. The second siluer, which this promise
carries, Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues. This third,
dull lead, with warning all as blunt, Who chooseth me, must giue and
hazard all he hath. How shall I know if I doe choose the right? How
shall I know if I doe choose the right

Por. The one of them containes my picture Prince, If you choose
that, then I am yours withall

Mor. Some God direct my iudgement, let me see, I will suruay the
inscriptions, backe againe: What saies this leaden casket?

Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath. Must giue, for what?
for lead, hazard for lead? This casket threatens men that hazard all
Doe it in hope of faire aduantages:

A golden minde stoopes not to showes of drosse, Ile then nor giue nor
hazard ought for lead. What saies the Siluer with her virgin hue? Who
chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues. As much as he deserues;
pause there Morocho, And weigh thy value with an euen hand,

If thou beest rated by thy estimation

Thou doost deserue enough, and yet enough May not extend so farre as to
the Ladie:

And yet to be afeard of my deseruing,

Were but a weake disabling of my selfe.

As much as I deserue, why that's the Lady. I doe in birth deserue her,
and in fortunes, In graces, and in qualities of breeding:

But more then these, in loue I doe deserue. What if I strai'd no
farther, but chose here? Let's see once more this saying grau'd in
gold. Who chooseth me shall gaine what many men desire: Why that's the
Lady, all the world desires her: From the foure corners of the earth
they come To kisse this shrine, this mortall breathing Saint. The
Hircanion deserts, and the vaste wildes Of wide Arabia are as
throughfares now

For Princes to come view faire Portia.

The waterie Kingdome, whose ambitious head Spets in the face of heauen,
is no barre

To stop the forraine spirits, but they come As ore a brooke to see
faire Portia.

One of these three containes her heauenly picture. Is't like that Lead
containes her? 'twere damnation To thinke so base a thought, it were
too grose To rib her searecloath in the obscure graue: Or shall I
thinke in Siluer she's immur'd Being ten times vndervalued to tride
gold; O sinfull thought, neuer so rich a Iem

Was set in worse then gold! They haue in England A coyne that beares
the figure of an Angell Stampt in gold, but that's insculpt vpon: But
here an Angell in a golden bed

Lies all within. Deliuer me the key:

Here doe I choose, and thriue I as I may

Por. There take it Prince, and if my forme lye there Then I am
yours

Mor. O hell! what haue we here, a carrion death, Within whose emptie
eye there is a written scroule; Ile reade the writing.

All that glisters is not gold,

Often haue you heard that told;

Many a man his life hath sold

But my outside to behold;

Guilded timber doe wormes infold:

Had you beene as wise as bold,

Yong in limbs, in iudgement old,

Your answere had not beene inscrold,

Fareyouwell, your suite is cold,

Mor. Cold indeede, and labour lost,

Then farewell heate, and welcome frost:

Portia adew, I haue too grieu'd a heart

To take a tedious leaue: thus loosers part. Enter.

Por. A gentle riddance: draw the curtaines, go: Let all of his
complexion choose me so.

Exeunt.

Enter Salarino and Solanio.

Flo. Cornets

Sal. Why man I saw Bassanio vnder sayle; With him is Gratiano gone
along;

And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not

Sol. The villaine Iew with outcries raisd the Duke. Who went with
him to search Bassanios ship

Sal. He comes too late, the ship was vndersaile; But there the Duke
was giuen to vnderstand That in a Gondilo were seene together

Lorenzo and his amorous Iessica.

Besides, Anthonio certified the Duke

They were not with Bassanio in his ship

Sol. I neuer heard a passion so confusd, So strange, outragious, and
so variable,

As the dogge Iew did vtter in the streets; My daughter, O my ducats, O
my daughter,

Fled with a Christian, O my Christian ducats! Iustice, the law, my
ducats, and my daughter; A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,

Of double ducats, stolne from me by my daughter, And iewels, two
stones, two rich and precious stones, Stolne by my daughter: iustice,
finde the girle, She hath the stones vpon her, and the ducats

Sal. Why all the boyes in Venice follow him, Crying his stones, his
daughter, and his ducats

Sol. Let good Anthonio looke he keepe his day Or he shall pay for
this

Sal. Marry well remembred,

I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday,

Who told me, in the narrow seas that part The French and English, there
miscaried

A vessell of our countrey richly fraught: I thought vpon Anthonio when
he told me,

And wisht in silence that it were not his

Sol. You were best to tell Anthonio what you heare. Yet doe not
suddainely, for it may grieue him

Sal. A kinder Gentleman treads not the earth, I saw Bassanio and
Anthonio part,

Bassanio told him he would make some speede Of his returne: he
answered, doe not so,

Slubber not businesse for my sake Bassanio, But stay the very riping of
the time,

And for the Iewes bond which he hath of me, Let it not enter in your
minde of loue:

Be merry, and imploy your chiefest thoughts To courtship, and such
faire ostents of loue As shall conueniently become you there;

And euen there his eye being big with teares, Turning his face, he put
his hand behinde him, And with affection wondrous sencible

He wrung Bassanios hand, and so they parted

Sol. I thinke he onely loues the world for him, I pray thee let vs
goe and finde him out

And quicken his embraced heauinesse

With some delight or other

Sal. Doe we so.

Exeunt.

Enter Nerrissa and a Seruiture.

Ner. Quick, quick I pray thee, draw the curtain strait, The Prince of
Arragon hath tane his oath, And comes to his election presently.

Enter Arragon, his traine, and Portia. Flor. Cornets.

Por. Behold, there stand the caskets noble Prince, If you choose that
wherein I am contain'd, Straight shall our nuptiall rights be
solemniz'd: But if thou faile, without more speech my Lord, You must be
gone from hence immediately

Ar. I am enioynd by oath to obserue three things; First, neuer to
vnfold to any one

Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I faile Of the right casket, neuer
in my life

To wooe a maide in way of marriage:

Lastly, if I doe faile in fortune of my choyse, Immediately to leaue
you, and be gone

Por. To these iniunctions euery one doth sweare That comes to hazard
for my worthlesse selfe

Ar. And so haue I addrest me, fortune now To my hearts hope: gold,
siluer, and base lead. Who chooseth me must giue and hazard all he
hath. You shall looke fairer ere I giue or hazard. What saies the
golden chest, ha, let me see. Who chooseth me, shall gaine what many
men desire: What many men desire, that many may be meant By the foole
multitude that choose by show, Not learning more then the fond eye doth
teach, Which pries not to th' interior, but like the Martlet Builds in
the weather on the outward wall, Euen in the force and rode of
casualtie.

I will not choose what many men desire,

Because I will not iumpe with common spirits, And ranke me with the
barbarous multitudes. Why then to thee thou Siluer treasure house, Tell
me once more, what title thou doost beare; Who chooseth me shall get as
much as he deserues: And well said too; for who shall goe about To
cosen Fortune, and be honourable

Without the stampe of merrit, let none presume To weare an vndeserued
dignitie:

O that estates, degrees, and offices,

Were not deriu'd corruptly, and that cleare honour Were purchast by the
merrit of the wearer; How many then should couer that stand bare? How
many be commanded that command?

How much low pleasantry would then be gleaned From the true seede of
honor? And how much honor Pickt from the chaffe and ruine of the times,
To be new varnisht: Well, but to my choise. Who chooseth me shall get
as much as he deserues. I will assume desert; giue me a key for this,
And instantly vnlocke my fortunes here

Por. Too long a pause for that which you finde there

Ar. What's here, the portrait of a blinking idiot Presenting me a
scedule, I will reade it: How much vnlike art thou to Portia?

How much vnlike my hopes and my deseruings? Who chooseth me, shall haue
as much as he deserues. Did I deserue no more then a fooles head, Is
that my prize, are my deserts no better?   Por. To offend and iudge are
distinct offices, And of opposed natures

Ar. What is here?

The fier seauen times tried this,

Seauen times tried that iudgement is,

That did neuer choose amis,

Some there be that shadowes kisse,

Such haue but a shadowes blisse:

There be fooles aliue Iwis

Siluer'd o're, and so was this:

Take what wife you will to bed,

I will euer be your head:

So be gone, you are sped

Ar. Still more foole I shall appeare

By the time I linger here,

With one fooles head I came to woo,

But I goe away with two.

Sweet adue, Ile keepe my oath,

Patiently to beare my wroath

Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moath: O these deliberate
fooles when they doe choose, They haue the wisdome by their wit to
loose

Ner. The ancient saying is no heresie, Hanging and wiuing goes by
destinie

Por. Come draw the curtaine Nerrissa.

Enter Messenger.

Mes. Where is my Lady?

Por. Here, what would my Lord?

Mes. Madam, there is a-lighted at your gate A yong Venetian, one that
comes before

To signifie th' approaching of his Lord,

From whom he bringeth sensible regreets;

To wit (besides commends and curteous breath) Gifts of rich value; yet
I haue not seene So likely an Embassador of loue.

A day in Aprill neuer came so sweete

To show how costly Sommer was at hand,

As this fore-spurrer comes before his Lord

Por. No more I pray thee, I am halfe a-feard Thou wilt say anone he
is some kin to thee, Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him:
Come, come Nerryssa, for I long to see

Quicke Cupids Post, that comes so mannerly

Ner. Bassanio Lord, loue if thy will it be.

Exeunt.



Actus Tertius.

Enter Solanio and Salarino.

Sol. Now, what newes on the Ryalto?

Sal. Why yet it liues there vncheckt, that Anthonio hath a ship of
rich lading wrackt on the narrow Seas; the Goodwins I thinke they call
the place, a very dangerous flat, and fatall, where the carcasses of
many a tall ship, lye buried, as they say, if my gossips report be an
honest woman of her word

Sol. I would she were as lying a gossip in that, as euer knapt
Ginger, or made her neighbours beleeue she wept for the death of a
third husband: but it is true, without any slips of prolixity, or
crossing the plaine high-way of talke, that the good Anthonio, the
honest Anthonio; o that I had a title good enough to keepe his name
company!   Sal. Come, the full stop

Sol. Ha, what sayest thou, why the end is, he hath lost a ship

Sal. I would it might proue the end of his losses

Sol. Let me say Amen betimes, least the diuell crosse my praier, for
here he comes in the likenes of a Iew. How now Shylocke, what newes
among the Merchants? Enter Shylocke.

Shy. You knew none so well, none so well as you, of my daughters
flight

Sal. That's certaine, I for my part knew the Tailor that made the
wings she flew withall

Sol. And Shylocke for his owne part knew the bird was fledg'd, and
then it is the complexion of them al to leaue the dam

Shy. She is damn'd for it

Sal. That's certaine, if the diuell may be her Iudge

Shy. My owne flesh and blood to rebell

Sol. Out vpon it old carrion, rebels it at these yeeres

Shy. I say my daughter is my flesh and bloud

Sal. There is more difference betweene thy flesh and hers, then
betweene Iet and Iuorie, more betweene your bloods, then there is
betweene red wine and rennish: but tell vs, doe you heare whether
Anthonio haue had anie losse at sea or no?

Shy. There I haue another bad match, a bankrout, a prodigall, who
dare scarce shew his head on the Ryalto, a begger that was vsd to come
so smug vpon the Mart: let him look to his bond, he was wont to call me
Vsurer, let him looke to his bond, he was wont to lend money for a
Christian curtsie, let him looke to his bond

Sal. Why I am sure if he forfaite, thou wilt not take his flesh,
what's that good for?

Shy. To baite fish withall, if it will feede nothing else, it will
feede my reuenge; he hath disgrac'd me, and hindred me halfe a million,
laught at my losses, mockt at my gaines, scorned my Nation, thwarted my
bargaines, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies, and what's the
reason? I am a Iewe: Hath not a Iew eyes? hath not a Iew hands, organs,
dementions, sences, affections, passions, fed with the same foode, hurt
with the same weapons, subiect to the same diseases, healed by the same
meanes, warmed and cooled by the same Winter and Sommer as a Christian
is: if you pricke vs doe we not bleede? if you tickle vs, doe we not
laugh? if you poison vs doe we not die? and if you wrong vs shall we
not reuenge? if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in
that. If a Iew wrong a Christian, what is his humility, reuenge? If a
Christian wrong a Iew, what should his sufferance be by Christian
example, why reuenge? The villanie you teach me I will execute, and it
shall goe hard but I will better the instruction.

Enter a man from Anthonio.

Gentlemen, my maister Anthonio is at his house, and desires to speake
with you both

Sal. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke him. Enter Tuball.

Sol. Here comes another of the Tribe, a third cannot be matcht,
vnlesse the diuell himselfe turne Iew.

Exeunt. Gentlemen

Shy. How now Tuball, what newes from Genowa? hast thou found my
daughter?

Tub. I often came where I did heare of her, but cannot finde her

Shy. Why there, there, there, there, a diamond gone cost me two
thousand ducats in Franckford, the curse neuer fell vpon our Nation
till now, I neuer felt it till now, two thousand ducats in that, and
other precious, precious iewels: I would my daughter were dead at my
foot, and the iewels in her eare: would she were hearst at my foote,
and the duckets in her coffin: no newes of them, why so? and I know not
how much is spent in the search: why thou losse vpon losse, the theefe
gone with so much, and so much to finde the theefe, and no
satisfaction, no reuenge, nor no ill luck stirring but what lights a my
shoulders, no sighes but a my breathing, no teares but a my shedding

Tub. Yes, other men haue ill lucke too, Anthonio as I heard in
Genowa?

Shy. What, what, what, ill lucke, ill lucke

Tub. Hath an Argosie cast away comming from Tripolis

Shy. I thanke God, I thanke God, is it true, is it true?   Tub. I
spoke with some of the Saylers that escaped the wracke

Shy. I thanke thee good Tuball, good newes, good newes: ha, ha, here
in Genowa

Tub. Your daughter spent in Genowa, as I heard, one night fourescore
ducats

Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me, I shall neuer see my gold againe,
fourescore ducats at a sitting, fourescore ducats

Tub. There came diuers of Anthonios creditors in my company to
Venice, that sweare hee cannot choose but breake

Shy. I am very glad of it, ile plague him, ile torture him, I am
glad of it,

Tub. One of them shewed me a ring that hee had of your daughter for a
Monkie

Shy. Out vpon her, thou torturest me Tuball, it was my Turkies, I
had it of Leah when I was a Batcheler: I would not haue giuen it for a
wildernesse of Monkies

Tub. But Anthonio is certainely vndone

Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true, goe Tuball, see me an
Officer, bespeake him a fortnight before, I will haue the heart of him
if he forfeit, for were he out of Venice, I can make what merchandize I
will: goe Tuball, and meete me at our Sinagogue, goe good Tuball, at
our Sinagogue Tuball.

Exeunt.

Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, and all their traine.

Por. I pray you tarrie, pause a day or two Before you hazard, for in
choosing wrong

I loose your companie; therefore forbeare a while, There's something
tels me (but it is not loue) I would not loose you, and you know your
selfe, Hate counsailes not in such a quallitie;

But least you should not vnderstand me well, And yet a maiden hath no
tongue, but thought, I would detaine you here some month or two Before
you venture for me. I could teach you How to choose right, but then I
am forsworne, So will I neuer be, so may you misse me,

But if you doe, youle make me wish a sinne, That I had beene forsworne:
Beshrow your eyes, They haue ore-lookt me and deuided me,

One halfe of me is yours, the other halfe yours, Mine owne I would say:
but of mine then yours, And so all yours; O these naughtie times

Puts bars betweene the owners and their rights. And so though yours,
not yours (proue it so) Let Fortune goe to hell for it, not I.

I speake too long, but 'tis to peize the time, To ich it, and to draw
it out in length,

To stay you from election

Bass. Let me choose,

For as I am, I liue vpon the racke

Por. Vpon the racke Bassanio, then confesse What treason there is
mingled with your loue

Bass. None but that vglie treason of mistrust. Which makes me feare
the enioying of my loue: There may as well be amitie and life,

'Tweene snow and fire, as treason and my loue

Por. I, but I feare you speake vpon the racke, Where men enforced
doth speake any thing

Bass. Promise me life, and ile confesse the truth

Por. Well then, confesse and liue

Bass. Confesse and loue

Had beene the verie sum of my confession: O happie torment, when my
torturer

Doth teach me answers for deliuerance:

But let me to my fortune and the caskets

Por. Away then, I am lockt in one of them, If you doe loue me, you
will finde me out. Nerryssa and the rest, stand all aloofe,

Let musicke sound while he doth make his choise, Then if he loose he
makes a Swan-like end, Fading in musique. That the comparison

May stand more proper, my eye shall be the streame And watrie death-bed
for him: he may win, And what is musique than? Than musique is Euen as
the flourish, when true subiects bowe To a new crowned Monarch: Such it
is,

As are those dulcet sounds in breake of day, That creepe into the
dreaming bride-groomes eare, And summon him to marriage. Now he goes

With no lesse presence, but with much more loue Then yong Alcides, when
he did redeeme

The virgine tribute, paied by howling Troy To the Sea-monster: I stand
for sacrifice, The rest aloofe are the Dardanian wiues:

With bleared visages come forth to view

The issue of th' exploit: Goe Hercules,

Liue thou, I liue with much more dismay

I view the sight, then thou that mak'st the fray.

Here Musicke. A Song the whilst Bassanio comments on the Caskets to

himselfe.

Tell me where is fancie bred,

Or in the heart, or in the head:

How begot, how nourished. Replie, replie. It is engendred in the eyes,

With gazing fed, and Fancie dies,

In the cradle where it lies:

Let vs all ring Fancies knell.

Ile begin it.

Ding, dong, bell

All. Ding, dong, bell

Bass. So may the outward showes be least themselues The world is
still deceiu'd with ornament. In Law, what Plea so tainted and corrupt,
But being season'd with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of euill?
In Religion,

What damned error, but some sober brow

Will blesse it, and approue it with a text, Hiding the grosenesse with
faire ornament: There is no voice so simple, but assumes

Some marke of vertue on his outward parts; How manie cowards, whose
hearts are all as false As stayers of sand, weare yet vpon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars, Who inward searcht, haue
lyuers white as milke, And these assume but valors excrement,

To render them redoubted. Looke on beautie, And you shall see 'tis
purchast by the weight, Which therein workes a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that weare most of it: So are those crisped snakie
golden locks

Which makes such wanton gambols with the winde Vpon supposed
fairenesse, often knowne

To be the dowrie of a second head,

The scull that bred them in the Sepulcher. Thus ornament is but the
guiled shore

To a most dangerous sea: the beautious scarfe Vailing an Indian
beautie; In a word,

The seeming truth which cunning times put on To intrap the wisest.
Therefore then thou gaudie gold, Hard food for Midas, I will none of
thee, Nor none of thee thou pale and common drudge 'Tweene man and man:
but thou, thou meager lead Which rather threatnest then dost promise
ought, Thy palenesse moues me more then eloquence, And here choose I,
ioy be the consequence

Por. How all the other passions fleet to ayre, As doubtfull
thoughts, and rash imbrac'd despaire: And shuddring feare, and
greene-eyed iealousie. O loue be moderate, allay thy extasie,

In measure raine thy ioy, scant this excesse, I feele too much thy
blessing, make it lesse, For feare I surfeit

Bas. What finde I here?

Faire Portias counterfeit. What demie God Hath come so neere creation?
moue these eies? Or whether riding on the bals of mine

Seeme they in motion? Here are seuer'd lips Parted with suger breath,
so sweet a barre Should sunder such sweet friends: here in her haires
The Painter plaies the Spider, and hath wouen A golden mesh t' intrap
the hearts of men Faster then gnats in cobwebs: but her eies, How could
he see to doe them? hauing made one, Me thinkes it should haue power to
steale both his And leaue it selfe vnfurnisht: Yet looke how farre The
substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow In vnderprising it, so
farre this shadow

Doth limpe behinde the substance. Here's the scroule, The continent,
and summarie of my fortune. You that choose not by the view

Chance as faire, and choose as true:

Since this fortune fals to you,

Be content, and seeke no new.

If you be well pleasd with this,

And hold your fortune for your blisse,

Turne you where your Lady is,

And claime her with a louing kisse

Bass. A gentle scroule: Faire Lady, by your leaue, I come by note to
giue, and to receiue,

Like one of two contending in a prize

That thinks he hath done well in peoples eies: Hearing applause and
vniuersall shout,

Giddie in spirit, still gazing in a doubt Whether those peales of
praise be his or no. So thrice faire Lady stand I euen so,

As doubtfull whether what I see be true,

Vntill confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you

Por. You see my Lord Bassiano where I stand, Such as I am; though
for my selfe alone

I would not be ambitious in my wish,

To wish my selfe much better, yet for you, I would be trebled twenty
times my selfe, A thousand times more faire, ten thousand times More
rich, that onely to stand high in your account, I might in vertues,
beauties, liuings, friends, Exceed account: but the full summe of me

Is sum of nothing: which to terme in grosse, Is an vnlessoned girle,
vnschool'd, vnpractiz'd, Happy in this, she is not yet so old

But she may learne: happier then this,

Shee is not bred so dull but she can learne; Happiest of all, is that
her gentle spirit Commits it selfe to yours to be directed, As from her
Lord, her Gouernour, her King. My selfe, and what is mine, to you and
yours Is now conuerted. But now I was the Lord

Of this faire mansion, master of my seruants, Queene ore my selfe: and
euen now, but now, This house, these seruants, and this same my selfe
Are yours, my Lord, I giue them with this ring, Which when you part
from, loose, or giue away, Let it presage the ruine of your loue,

And be my vantage to exclaime on you

Bass. Maddam, you haue bereft me of all words, Onely my bloud
speakes to you in my vaines, And there is such confusion in my powers,
As after some oration fairely spoke

By a beloued Prince, there doth appeare

Among the buzzing pleased multitude,

Where euery something being blent together, Turnes to a wilde of
nothing, saue of ioy Exprest, and not exprest: but when this ring Parts
from this finger, then parts life from hence, O then be bold to say
Bassanio's dead

Ner. My Lord and Lady, it is now our time That haue stood by and
seene our wishes prosper, To cry good ioy, good ioy my Lord and Lady

Gra. My Lord Bassanio, and my gentle Lady, I wish you all the ioy
that you can wish: For I am sure you can wish none from me:

And when your Honours meane to solemnize

The bargaine of your faith: I doe beseech you Euen at that time I may
be married too

Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife

Gra. I thanke your Lordship, you haue got me one. My eyes my Lord
can looke as swift as yours: You saw the mistres, I beheld the maid:

You lou'd, I lou'd for intermission,

No more pertaines to me my Lord then you; Your fortune stood vpon the
caskets there, And so did mine too, as the matter falls: For wooing
heere vntill I swet againe,

And swearing till my very rough was dry

With oathes of loue, at last, if promise last, I got a promise of this
faire one heere

To haue her loue: prouided that your fortune Atchieu'd her mistresse

Por. Is this true Nerrissa?

Ner. Madam it is so, so you stand pleas'd withall

Bass. And doe you Gratiano meane good faith?   Gra. Yes faith my
Lord

Bass. Our feast shall be much honored in your marriage

Gra. Weele play with them the first boy for a thousand ducats

Ner. What and stake downe?

Gra. No, we shal nere win at that sport, and stake downe.

But who comes heere? Lorenzo and his Infidell? What and my old Venetian
friend Salerio?

Enter Lorenzo, Iessica, and Salerio.

Bas. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hether, If that the youth of my new
interest heere Haue power to bid you welcome: by your leaue I bid my
verie friends and Countrimen

Sweet Portia welcome

Por. So do I my Lord, they are intirely welcome

Lor. I thanke your honor; for my part my Lord, My purpose was not to
haue seene you heere, But meeting with Salerio by the way,

He did intreate mee past all saying nay

To come with him along

Sal. I did my Lord,

And I haue reason for it, Signior Anthonio Commends him to you

Bass. Ere I ope his Letter

I pray you tell me how my good friend doth

Sal. Not sicke my Lord, vnlesse it be in minde, Nor wel, vnlesse in
minde: his Letter there Wil shew you his estate.

Opens the Letter.

Gra. Nerrissa, cheere yond stranger, bid her welcom. Your hand
Salerio, what's the newes from Venice? How doth that royal Merchant
good Anthonio; I know he will be glad of our successe,

We are the Iasons, we haue won the fleece

Sal. I would you had won the fleece that hee hath lost

Por. There are some shrewd contents in yond same Paper,

That steales the colour from Bassianos cheeke, Some deere friend dead,
else nothing in the world Could turne so much the constitution

Of any constant man. What, worse and worse? With leaue Bassanio I am
halfe your selfe, And I must freely haue the halfe of any thing That
this same paper brings you

Bass. O sweet Portia,

Heere are a few of the vnpleasant'st words That euer blotted paper.
Gentle Ladie

When I did first impart my loue to you,

I freely told you all the wealth I had

Ran in my vaines: I was a Gentleman,

And then I told you true: and yet deere Ladie, Rating my selfe at
nothing, you shall see How much I was a Braggart, when I told you My
state was nothing, I should then haue told you That I was worse then
nothing: for indeede I haue ingag'd my selfe to a deere friend, Ingag'd
my friend to his meere enemie

To feede my meanes. Heere is a Letter Ladie, The paper as the bodie of
my friend,

And euerie word in it a gaping wound

Issuing life blood. But is it true Salerio, Hath all his ventures
faild, what not one hit, From Tripolis, from Mexico and England,

From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,

And not one vessell scape the dreadfull touch Of Merchant-marring
rocks?

Sal. Not one my Lord.

Besides, it should appeare, that if he had The present money to
discharge the Iew,

He would not take it: neuer did I know

A creature that did beare the shape of man So keene and greedy to
confound a man.

He plyes the Duke at morning and at night, And doth impeach the
freedome of the state If they deny him iustice. Twenty Merchants, The
Duke himselfe, and the Magnificoes

Of greatest port haue all perswaded with him, But none can driue him
from the enuious plea Of forfeiture, of iustice, and his bond

Iessi. When I was with him, I haue heard him sweare To Tuball and to
Chus, his Countri-men,

That he would rather haue Anthonio's flesh, Then twenty times the value
of the summe

That he did owe him: and I know my Lord,

If law, authoritie, and power denie not,

It will goe hard with poore Anthonio

Por. Is it your deere friend that is thus in trouble?   Bass. The
deerest friend to me, the kindest man, The best condition'd, and
vnwearied spirit In doing curtesies: and one in whom

The ancient Romane honour more appeares

Then any that drawes breath in Italie

Por. What summe owes he the Iew?

Bass. For me three thousand ducats

Por. What, no more?

Pay him sixe thousand, and deface the bond: Double sixe thousand, and
then treble that, Before a friend of this description

Shall lose a haire through Bassanio's fault. First goe with me to
Church, and call me wife, And then away to Venice to your friend:

For neuer shall you lie by Portias side

With an vnquiet soule. You shall haue gold To pay the petty debt twenty
times ouer.

When it is payd, bring your true friend along, My maid Nerrissa, and my
selfe meane time Will liue as maids and widdowes; come away, For you
shall hence vpon your wedding day: Bid your friends welcome, show a
merry cheere, Since you are deere bought, I will loue you deere. But
let me heare the letter of your friend. Sweet Bassanio, my ships haue
all miscarried, my Creditors grow cruell, my estate is very low, my
bond to the Iew is forfeit, and since in paying it, it is impossible I
should liue, all debts are cleerd between you and I, if I might see you
at my death: notwithstanding, vse your pleasure, if your loue doe not
perswade you to come, let not my letter

Por. O loue! dispach all busines and be gone

Bass. Since I haue your good leaue to goe away, I will make hast;
but till I come againe, No bed shall ere be guilty of my stay,

Nor rest be interposer twixt vs twaine.

Exeunt.

Enter the Iew, and Solanio, and Anthonio, and the Iaylor.

Iew. Iaylor, looke to him, tell not me of mercy, This is the foole
that lends out money gratis. Iaylor, looke to him

Ant. Heare me yet good Shylok

Iew. Ile haue my bond, speake not against my bond, I haue sworne an
oath that I will haue my bond: Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a
cause, But since I am a dog, beware my phangs,

The Duke shall grant me iustice, I do wonder Thou naughty Iaylor, that
thou art so fond To come abroad with him at his request

Ant. I pray thee heare me speake

Iew. Ile haue my bond, I will not heare thee speake, Ile haue my
bond, and therefore speake no more, Ile not be made a soft and dull
ey'd foole, To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yeeld To Christian
intercessors: follow not,

Ile haue no speaking, I will haue my bond.

Exit Iew.

Sol. It is the most impenetrable curre

That euer kept with men

Ant. Let him alone,

Ile follow him no more with bootlesse prayers: He seekes my life, his
reason well I know; I oft deliuer'd from his forfeitures

Many that haue at times made mone to me,

Therefore he hates me

Sol. I am sure the Duke will neuer grant this forfeiture to hold

An. The Duke cannot deny the course of law: For the commoditie that
strangers haue

With vs in Venice, if it be denied,

Will much impeach the iustice of the State, Since that the trade and
profit of the citty Consisteth of all Nations. Therefore goe, These
greefes and losses haue so bated mee, That I shall hardly spare a pound
of flesh To morrow, to my bloudy Creditor.

Well Iaylor, on, pray God Bassanio come

To see me pay his debt, and then I care not.

Exeunt.

Enter Portia, Nerrissa, Lorenzo, Iessica, and a man of Portias.

Lor. Madam, although I speake it in your presence, You haue a noble
and a true conceit

Of god-like amity, which appeares most strongly In bearing thus the
absence of your Lord. But if you knew to whom you shew this honour, How
true a Gentleman you send releefe,

How deere a louer of my Lord your husband, I know you would be prouder
of the worke

Then customary bounty can enforce you

Por. I neuer did repent for doing good, Nor shall not now: for in
companions

That do conuerse and waste the time together, Whose soules doe beare an
egal yoke of loue. There must be needs a like proportion

Of lyniaments, of manners, and of spirit; Which makes me thinke that
this Anthonio

Being the bosome louer of my Lord,

Must needs be like my Lord. If it be so,

How little is the cost I haue bestowed

In purchasing the semblance of my soule;

From out the state of hellish cruelty,

This comes too neere the praising of my selfe, Therefore no more of it:
heere other things Lorenso I commit into your hands,

The husbandry and mannage of my house,

Vntill my Lords returne; for mine owne part I haue toward heauen
breath'd a secret vow, To liue in prayer and contemplation,

Onely attended by Nerrissa heere,

Vntill her husband and my Lords returne:

There is a monastery too miles off,

And there we will abide. I doe desire you Not to denie this
imposition,

The which my loue and some necessity

Now layes vpon you

Lorens. Madame, with all my heart,

I shall obey you in all faire commands

Por. My people doe already know my minde, And will acknowledge you
and Iessica

In place of Lord Bassanio and my selfe.

So far you well till we shall meete againe

Lor. Faire thoughts & happy houres attend on you

Iessi. I wish your Ladiship all hearts content

Por. I thanke you for your wish, and am well pleas'd To wish it
backe on you: faryouwell Iessica.

Exeunt.

Now Balthaser, as I haue euer found thee honest true, So let me finde
thee still: take this same letter, And vse thou all the indeauor of a
man,

In speed to Mantua, see thou render this

Into my cosins hand, Doctor Belario,

And looke what notes and garments he doth giue thee, Bring them I pray
thee with imagin'd speed Vnto the Tranect, to the common Ferrie

Which trades to Venice; waste no time in words, But get thee gone, I
shall be there before thee

Balth. Madam, I goe with all conuenient speed

Por. Come on Nerissa, I haue worke in hand That you yet know not of;
wee'll see our husbands Before they thinke of vs?

Nerrissa. Shall they see vs?

Portia. They shall Nerrissa: but in such a habit, That they shall
thinke we are accomplished With that we lacke; Ile hold thee any wager
When we are both accoutered like yong men, Ile proue the prettier
fellow of the two, And weare my dagger with the brauer grace, And
speake betweene the change of man and boy, With a reede voyce, and
turne two minsing steps Into a manly stride; and speake of frayes Like
a fine bragging youth: and tell quaint lyes How honourable Ladies
sought my loue,

Which I denying, they fell sicke and died. I could not doe withall:
then Ile repent, And wish for all that, that I had not kil'd them; And
twentie of these punie lies Ile tell, That men shall sweare I haue
discontinued schoole Aboue a twelue moneth: I haue within my minde A
thousand raw tricks of these bragging Iacks, Which I will practise

Nerris. Why, shall wee turne to men?

Portia. Fie, what a questions that?

If thou wert nere a lewd interpreter:

But come, Ile tell thee all my whole deuice When I am in my coach,
which stayes for vs At the Parke gate; and therefore haste away, For we
must measure twentie miles to day.

Exeunt.

Enter Clowne and Iessica.

Clown. Yes truly; for looke you, the sinnes of the Father are to be
laid vpon the children, therefore I promise you, I feare you, I was
alwaies plaine with you, and so now I speake my agitation of the
matter: therfore be of good cheere, for truly I thinke you are damn'd,
there is but one hope in it that can doe you anie good, and that is but
a kinde of bastard hope neither

Iessica. And what hope is that I pray thee?   Clow. Marrie you may
partlie hope that your father got you not, that you are not the Iewes
daughter

Ies. That were a kinde of bastard hope indeed, so the sins of my
mother should be visited vpon me

Clow. Truly then I feare you are damned both by father and mother:
thus when I shun Scilla your father, I fall into Charibdis your mother;
well, you are gone both waies

Ies. I shall be sau'd by my husband, he hath made me a Christian

Clow. Truly the more to blame he, we were Christians enow before,
e'ne as many as could wel liue one by another: this making of
Christians will raise the price of Hogs, if wee grow all to be
porke-eaters, wee shall not shortlie haue a rasher on the coales for
money. Enter Lorenzo.

Ies. Ile tell my husband Lancelet what you say, heere he comes

Loren. I shall grow iealous of you shortly Lancelet, if you thus get
my wife into corners?

Ies. Nay, you need not feare vs Lorenzo, Launcelet and I are out, he
tells me flatly there is no mercy for mee in heauen, because I am a
Iewes daughter: and hee saies you are no good member of the common
wealth, for in conuerting Iewes to Christians, you raise the price of
Porke

Loren. I shall answere that better to the Commonwealth, than you can
the getting vp of the Negroes bellie: the Moore is with childe by you
Launcelet?   Clow. It is much that the Moore should be more then
reason: but if she be lesse then an honest woman, shee is indeed more
then I tooke her for

Loren. How euerie foole can play vpon the word, I thinke the best
grace of witte will shortly turne into silence, and discourse grow
commendable in none onely but Parrats: goe in sirra, bid them prepare
for dinner?   Clow. That is done sir, they haue all stomacks?   Loren.
Goodly Lord, what a witte-snapper are you, then bid them prepare
dinner

Clow. That is done to sir, onely couer is the word

Loren. Will you couer than sir?

Clow. Not so sir neither, I know my dutie

Loren. Yet more quarreling with occasion, wilt thou shew the whole
wealth of thy wit in an instant; I pray thee vnderstand a plaine man in
his plaine meaning: goe to thy fellowes, bid them couer the table,
serue in the meat, and we will come in to dinner

Clow. For the table sir, it shall be seru'd in, for the meat sir, it
shall bee couered, for your comming in to dinner sir, why let it be as
humors and conceits shall gouerne.

Exit Clowne.

Lor. O deare discretion, how his words are suted, The foole hath
planted in his memory

An Armie of good words, and I doe know

A many fooles that stand in better place, Garnisht like him, that for a
tricksie word Defie the matter: how cheer'st thou Iessica, And now good
sweet say thy opinion,

How dost thou like the Lord Bassiano's wife?   Iessi. Past all
expressing, it is very meete The Lord Bassanio liue an vpright life

For hauing such a blessing in his Lady,

He findes the ioyes of heauen heere on earth, And if on earth he doe
not meane it, it

Is reason he should neuer come to heauen? Why, if two gods should play
some heauenly match, And on the wager lay two earthly women,

And Portia one: there must be something else Paund with the other, for
the poore rude world Hath not her fellow

Loren. Euen such a husband

Hast thou of me, as she is for a wife

Ies. Nay, but aske my opinion to of that?   Lor. I will anone, first
let vs goe to dinner?   Ies. Nay, let me praise you while I haue a
stomacke?   Lor. No pray thee, let it serue for table talke, Then how
som ere thou speakst 'mong other things, I shall digest it?

Iessi. Well, Ile set you forth.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus.

Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Anthonio, Bassanio, and Gratiano

Duke. What, is Anthonio heere?

Ant. Ready, so please your grace?

Duke. I am sorry for thee, thou art come to answere A stonie
aduersary, an inhumane wretch,

Vncapable of pitty, voyd, and empty

From any dram of mercie

Ant. I haue heard

Your Grace hath tane great paines to qualifie His rigorous course: but
since he stands obdurate, And that no lawful meanes can carrie me

Out of his enuies reach, I do oppose

My patience to his fury, and am arm'd

To suffer with a quietnesse of spirit,

The very tiranny and rage of his

Du. Go one and cal the Iew into the Court

Sal. He is ready at the doore, he comes my Lord. Enter Shylocke.

Du. Make roome, and let him stand before our face. Shylocke the world
thinkes, and I thinke so to That thou but leadest this fashion of thy
mallice To the last houre of act, and then 'tis thought Thou'lt shew
thy mercy and remorse more strange, Than is thy strange apparant
cruelty;

And where thou now exact'st the penalty,

Which is a pound of this poore Merchants flesh, Thou wilt not onely
loose the forfeiture, But touch'd with humane gentlenesse and loue:
Forgiue a moytie of the principall,

Glancing an eye of pitty on his losses

That haue of late so hudled on his backe, Enow to presse a royall
Merchant downe;

And plucke commiseration of his state

From brassie bosomes, and rough hearts of flints, From stubborne Turkes
and Tarters neuer traind To offices of tender curtesie,

We all expect a gentle answer Iew?

Iew. I haue possest your grace of what I purpose, And by our holy
Sabbath haue I sworne

To haue the due and forfeit of my bond.

If you denie it, let the danger light

Vpon your Charter, and your Cities freedome. You'l aske me why I rather
choose to haue A weight of carrion flesh, then to receiue Three
thousand Ducats? Ile not answer that: But say it is my humor; Is it
answered?

What if my house be troubled with a Rat,

And I be pleas'd to giue ten thousand Ducates To haue it bain'd? What,
are you answer'd yet? Some men there are loue not a gaping Pigge: Some
that are mad, if they behold a Cat:

And others, when the bag-pipe sings i'th nose, Cannot containe their
Vrine for affection. Masters of passion swayes it to the moode Of what
it likes or loaths, now for your answer: As there is no firme reason to
be rendred Why he cannot abide a gaping Pigge?

Why he a harmlesse necessarie Cat?

Why he a woollen bag-pipe: but of force

Must yeeld to such ineuitable shame,

As to offend himselfe being offended:

So can I giue no reason, nor I will not,

More then a lodg'd hate, and a certaine loathing I beare Anthonio, that
I follow thus

A loosing suite against him? Are you answered?   Bass. This is no
answer thou vnfeeling man, To excuse the currant of thy cruelty

Iew. I am not bound to please thee with my answer

Bass. Do all men kil the things they do not loue?   Iew. Hates any
man the thing he would not kill?   Bass. Euerie offence is not a hate
at first

Iew. What wouldst thou haue a Serpent sting thee twice?

Ant. I pray you thinke you question with the Iew: You may as well go
stand vpon the beach,

And bid the maine flood baite his vsuall height, Or euen as well vse
question with the Wolfe, The Ewe bleate for the Lambe:

You may as well forbid the Mountaine Pines To wagge their high tops,
and to make no noise When they are fretted with the gusts of heauen:
You may as well do any thing most hard,

As seeke to soften that, then which what harder? His Iewish heart.
Therefore I do beseech you Make no more offers, vse no farther meanes,
But with all briefe and plaine conueniencie Let me haue iudgement, and
the Iew his will

Bas. For thy three thousand Ducates heere is six

Iew. If euerie Ducat in sixe thousand Ducates Were in sixe parts,
and euery part a Ducate, I would not draw them, I would haue my bond?
Du. How shalt thou hope for mercie, rendring none?   Iew. What
iudgement shall I dread doing no wrong? You haue among you many a
purchast slaue, Which like your Asses, and your Dogs and Mules, You vse
in abiect and in slauish parts,

Because you bought them. Shall I say to you, Let them be free, marrie
them to your heires? Why sweate they vnder burthens? Let their beds Be
made as soft as yours: and let their pallats Be season'd with such
Viands: you will answer The slaues are ours. So do I answer you.

The pound of flesh which I demand of him

Is deerely bought, 'tis mine, and I will haue it. If you deny me; fie
vpon your Law,

There is no force in the decrees of Venice; I stand for iudgement,
answer, Shall I haue it?   Du. Vpon my power I may dismisse this Court,
Vnlesse Bellario a learned Doctor,

Whom I haue sent for to determine this,

Come heere to day

Sal. My Lord, heere stayes without

A Messenger with Letters from the Doctor, New come from Padua

Du. Bring vs the Letters, Call the Messengers

Bass. Good cheere Anthonio. What man, corage yet: The Iew shall haue
my flesh, blood, bones, and all, Ere thou shalt loose for me one drop
of blood

Ant. I am a tainted Weather of the flocke, Meetest for death, the
weakest kinde of fruite Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me;
You cannot better be employ'd Bassanio,

Then to liue still, and write mine Epitaph. Enter Nerrissa.

Du. Came you from Padua from Bellario?

Ner. From both.

My Lord Bellario greets your Grace

Bas. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?   Iew. To cut the
forfeiture from that bankrout there

Gra. Not on thy soale: but on thy soule harsh Iew Thou mak'st thy
knife keene: but no mettall can, No, not the hangmans Axe beare halfe
the keennesse Of thy sharpe enuy. Can no prayers pierce thee?   Iew.
No, none that thou hast wit enough to make

Gra. O be thou damn'd, inexecrable dogge, And for thy life let
iustice be accus'd:

Thou almost mak'st me wauer in my faith;

To hold opinion with Pythagoras,

That soules of Animals infuse themselues

Into the trunkes of men. Thy currish spirit Gouern'd a Wolfe, who
hang'd for humane slaughter, Euen from the gallowes did his fell soule
fleet; And whil'st thou layest in thy vnhallowed dam, Infus'd it selfe
in thee: For thy desires Are Woluish, bloody, steru'd, and rauenous

Iew. Till thou canst raile the seale from off my bond Thou but
offend'st thy Lungs to speake so loud: Repaire thy wit good youth, or
it will fall To endlesse ruine. I stand heere for Law

Du. This Letter from Bellario doth commend A yong and Learned Doctor
in our Court;

Where is he?

Ner. He attendeth heere hard by

To know your answer, whether you'l admit him

Du. With all my heart. Some three or four of you Go giue him
curteous conduct to this place, Meane time the Court shall heare
Bellarioes Letter. Your Grace shall vnderstand, that at the receite of
your Letter I am very sicke: but in the instant that your messenger
came, in louing visitation, was with me a yong Doctor of Rome, his name
is Balthasar: I acquainted him with the cause in Controuersie, betweene
the Iew and Anthonio the Merchant: We turn'd ore many Bookes together:
hee is furnished with my opinion, which bettred with his owne learning,
the greatnesse whereof I cannot enough commend, comes with him at my
importunity, to fill vp your Graces request in my sted. I beseech you,
let his lacke of years be no impediment to let him lacke a reuerend
estimation: for I neuer knewe so yong a body, with so old a head. I
leaue him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish
his commendation. Enter Portia for Balthazar.

Duke. You heare the learn'd Bellario what he writes, And heere (I
take it) is the Doctor come. Giue me your hand: Came you from old
Bellario?   Por. I did my Lord

Du. You are welcome: take your place;

Are you acquainted with the difference

That holds this present question in the Court

Por. I am enformed throughly of the cause. Which is the Merchant
heere? and which the Iew?   Du. Anthonio and old Shylocke, both stand
forth

Por. Is your name Shylocke?

Iew. Shylocke is my name

Por. Of a strange nature is the sute you follow, Yet in such rule,
that the Venetian Law

Cannot impugne you as you do proceed.

You stand within his danger, do you not?

Ant. I, so he sayes

Por. Do you confesse the bond?

Ant. I do

Por. Then must the Iew be mercifull

Iew. On what compulsion must I ? Tell me that

Por. The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle
raine from heauen Vpon the place beneath. It is twice blest, It
blesseth him that giues, and him that takes, 'Tis mightiest in the
mightiest, it becomes The throned Monarch better then his Crowne. His
Scepter shewes the force of temporall power, The attribute to awe and
Maiestie,

Wherein doth sit the dread and feare of Kings: But mercy is aboue this
sceptred sway,

It is enthroned in the hearts of Kings,

It is an attribute to God himselfe;

And earthly power doth then shew likest Gods When mercie seasons
Iustice. Therefore Iew, Though Iustice be thy plea, consider this, That
in the course of Iustice, none of vs Should see saluation: we do pray
for mercie, And that same prayer, doth teach vs all to render The deeds
of mercie. I haue spoke thus much To mittigate the iustice of thy
plea:

Which if thou follow, this strict course of Venice Must needes giue
sentence 'gainst the Merchant there

Shy. My deeds vpon my head, I craue the Law, The penaltie and
forfeite of my bond

Por. Is he not able to discharge the money?   Bas. Yes, heere I
tender it for him in the Court, Yea, twice the summe, if that will not
suffice, I will be bound to pay it ten times ore,

On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart: If this will not suffice, it
must appeare That malice beares downe truth. And I beseech you Wrest
once the Law to your authority.

To do a great right, do a little wrong,

And curbe this cruell diuell of his will

Por. It must not be, there is no power in Venice Can alter a decree
established:

'Twill be recorded for a President,

And many an error by the same example,

Will rush into the state: It cannot be

Iew. A Daniel come to iudgement, yea a Daniel. O wise young Iudge,
how do I honour thee

Por. I pray you let me looke vpon the bond

Iew. Heere 'tis most reuerend Doctor, heere it is

Por. Shylocke, there's thrice thy monie offered thee

Shy. An oath, an oath, I haue an oath in heauen: Shall I lay
periurie vpon my soule?

No not for Venice

Por. Why this bond is forfeit,

And lawfully by this the Iew may claime

A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off

Neerest the Merchants heart; be mercifull, Take thrice thy money, bid
me teare the bond

Iew. When it is paid according to the tenure. It doth appeare you
are a worthy Iudge:

You know the Law, your exposition

Hath beene most sound. I charge you by the Law, Whereof you are a
well-deseruing pillar,

Proceede to iudgement: By my soule I sweare, There is no power in the
tongue of man

To alter me: I stay heere on my bond

An. Most heartily I do beseech the Court To giue the iudgement

Por. Why then thus it is:

You must prepare your bosome for his knife

Iew. O noble Iudge, O excellent yong man

Por. For the intent and purpose of the Law Hath full relation to the
penaltie,

Which heere appeareth due vpon the bond

Iew. 'Tis verie true: O wise and vpright Iudge, How much more elder
art thou then thy lookes?   Por. Therefore lay bare your bosome

Iew. I, his brest,

So sayes the bond, doth it not noble Iudge? Neerest his heart, those
are the very words

Por. It is so: Are there ballance heere to weigh the flesh?

Iew. I haue them ready

Por. Haue by some Surgeon Shylock on your charge To stop his wounds,
least he should bleede to death

Iew. It is not nominated in the bond?

Por. It is not so exprest: but what of that? 'Twere good you do so
much for charitie

Iew. I cannot finde it, 'tis not in the bond

Por. Come Merchant, haue you any thing to say?   Ant. But little: I
am arm'd and well prepar'd. Giue me your hand Bassanio, fare you well.
Greeue not that I am falne to this for you: For heerein fortune shewes
her selfe more kinde Then is her custome. It is still her vse

To let the wretched man out-liue his wealth, To view with hollow eye,
and wrinkled brow An age of pouerty. From which lingring penance Of
such miserie, doth she cut me off:

Commend me to your honourable Wife,

Tell her the processe of Anthonio's end:

Say how I lou'd you; speake me faire in death: And when the tale is
told, bid her be iudge, Whether Bassanio had not once a Loue:

Repent not you that you shall loose your friend, And he repents not
that he payes your debt. For if the Iew do cut but deepe enough,

Ile pay it instantly, with all my heart

Bas. Anthonio, I am married to a wife, Which is as deere to me as
life it selfe, But life it selfe, my wife, and all the world, Are not
with me esteem'd aboue thy life.

I would loose all, I sacrifice them all

Heere to this deuill, to deliuer you

Por. Your wife would giue you little thanks for that If she were by
to heare you make the offer

Gra. I haue a wife whom I protest I loue, I would she were in
heauen, so she could

Intreat some power to change this currish Iew

Ner. 'Tis well you offer it behinde her backe, The wish would make
else an vnquiet house

Iew. These be the Christian husbands: I haue a daughter Would any of
the stocke of Barrabas

Had beene her husband, rather then a Christian. We trifle time, I pray
thee pursue sentence

Por. A pound of that same marchants flesh is thine, The Court awards
it, and the law doth giue it

Iew. Most rightfull Iudge

Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast, The Law
allowes it, and the Court awards it

Iew. Most learned Iudge, a sentence, come prepare

Por. Tarry a little, there is something else, This bond doth giue
thee heere no iot of bloud, The words expresly are a pound of flesh:

Then take thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh, But in the cutting
it, if thou dost shed

One drop of Christian bloud, thy lands and goods Are by the Lawes of
Venice confiscate

Vnto the state of Venice

Gra. O vpright Iudge,

Marke Iew, o learned Iudge

Shy. Is that the law?

Por. Thy selfe shalt see the Act:

For as thou vrgest iustice, be assur'd

Thou shalt haue iustice more then thou desirest

Gra. O learned Iudge, mark Iew, a learned Iudge

Iew. I take this offer then, pay the bond thrice, And let the
Christian goe

Bass. Heere is the money

Por. Soft, the Iew shall haue all iustice, soft, no haste, He shall
haue nothing but the penalty

Gra. O Iew, an vpright Iudge, a learned Iudge

Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh, Shed thou no
bloud, nor cut thou lesse nor more But iust a pound of flesh: if thou
tak'st more Or lesse then a iust pound, be it so much As makes it light
or heauy in the substance, Or the deuision of the twentieth part

Of one poore scruple, nay if the scale doe turne But in the estimation
of a hayre,

Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate

Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel Iew,

Now infidell I haue thee on the hip

Por. Why doth the Iew pause, take thy forfeiture

Shy. Giue me my principall, and let me goe

Bass. I haue it ready for thee, heere it is

Por. He hath refus'd it in the open Court, He shall haue meerly
iustice and his bond

Gra. A Daniel still say I, a second Daniel, I thanke thee Iew for
teaching me that word

Shy. Shall I not haue barely my principall?   Por. Thou shalt haue
nothing but the forfeiture, To be taken so at thy perill Iew

Shy. Why then the Deuill giue him good of it: Ile stay no longer
question

Por. Tarry Iew,

The Law hath yet another hold on you.

It is enacted in the Lawes of Venice,

If it be proued against an Alien,

That by direct, or indirect attempts

He seeke the life of any Citizen,

The party gainst the which he doth contriue, Shall seaze one halfe his
goods, the other halfe Comes to the priuie coffer of the State,

And the offenders life lies in the mercy

Of the Duke onely, gainst all other voice. In which predicament I say
thou standst:

For it appeares by manifest proceeding,

That indirectly, and directly to,

Thou hast contriu'd against the very life Of the defendant: and thou
hast incur'd

The danger formerly by me rehearst.

Downe therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke

Gra. Beg that thou maist haue leaue to hang thy selfe, And yet thy
wealth being forfeit to the state, Thou hast not left the value of a
cord,

Therefore thou must be hang'd at the states charge

Duk. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, I pardon thee
thy life before thou aske it: For halfe thy wealth, it is Anthonio's

The other halfe comes to the generall state, Which humblenesse may
driue vnto a fine

Por. I for the state, not for Anthonio

Shy. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that, You take my house,
when you do take the prop That doth sustaine my house: you take my life
When you doe take the meanes whereby I liue

Por. What mercy can you render him Anthonio?   Gra. A halter gratis,
nothing else for Gods sake

Ant. So please my Lord the Duke, and all the Court To quit the fine
for one halfe of his goods, I am content: so he will let me haue

The other halfe in vse, to render it

Vpon his death, vnto the Gentleman

That lately stole his daughter.

Two things prouided more, that for this fauour He presently become a
Christian:

The other, that he doe record a gift

Heere in the Court of all he dies possest Vnto his sonne Lorenzo, and
his daughter

Duk. He shall doe this, or else I doe recant The pardon that I late
pronounced heere

Por. Art thou contented Iew? what dost thou say?   Shy. I am
content

Por. Clarke, draw a deed of gift

Shy. I pray you giue me leaue to goe from hence, I am not well, send
the deed after me,

And I will signe it

Duke. Get thee gone, but doe it

Gra. In christning thou shalt haue two godfathers, Had I been iudge,
thou shouldst haue had ten more, To bring thee to the gallowes, not to
the font. Enter.

Du. Sir I intreat you with me home to dinner

Por. I humbly doe desire your Grace of pardon, I must away this
night toward Padua,

And it is meete I presently set forth

Duk. I am sorry that your leysure serues you not: Anthonio, gratifie
this gentleman,

For in my minde you are much bound to him.

Exit Duke and his traine.

Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend Haue by your wisedome
beene this day acquitted Of greeuous penalties, in lieu whereof,

Three thousand Ducats due vnto the Iew

We freely cope your curteous paines withall

An. And stand indebted ouer and aboue

In loue and seruice to you euermore

Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied, And I deliuering you,
am satisfied,

And therein doe account my selfe well paid, My minde was neuer yet more
mercinarie.

I pray you know me when we meete againe,

I wish you well, and so I take my leaue

Bass. Deare sir, of force I must attempt you further, Take some
remembrance of vs as a tribute, Not as fee: grant me two things, I pray
you Not to denie me, and to pardon me

Por. You presse mee farre, and therefore I will yeeld, Giue me your
gloues, Ile weare them for your sake, And for your loue Ile take this
ring from you, Doe not draw backe your hand, ile take no more, And you
in loue shall not deny me this?

Bass. This ring good sir, alas it is a trifle, I will not shame my
selfe to giue you this

Por. I wil haue nothing else but onely this, And now methinkes I
haue a minde to it

Bas. There's more depends on this then on the valew, The dearest
ring in Venice will I giue you, And finde it out by proclamation,

Onely for this I pray you pardon me

Por. I see sir you are liberall in offers, You taught me first to
beg, and now me thinkes You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd

Bas. Good sir, this ring was giuen me by my wife, And when she put
it on, she made me vow

That I should neither sell, nor giue, nor lose it

Por. That scuse serues many men to saue their gifts, And if your
wife be not a mad woman,

And know how well I haue deseru'd this ring, Shee would not hold out
enemy for euer

For giuing it to me: well, peace be with you.

Exeunt.

Ant. My L[ord]. Bassanio, let him haue the ring, Let his deseruings
and my loue withall

Be valued against your wiues commandement

Bass. Goe Gratiano, run and ouer-take him, Giue him the ring, and
bring him if thou canst Vnto Anthonios house, away, make haste.

Exit Grati.

Come, you and I will thither presently,

And in the morning early will we both

Flie toward Belmont, come Anthonio.

Exeunt.

Enter Portia and Nerrissa.

Por. Enquire the Iewes house out, giue him this deed, And let him
signe it, wee'll away to night, And be a day before our husbands home:

This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. Enter Gratiano.

Gra. Faire sir, you are well ore-tane:

My L[ord]. Bassanio vpon more aduice,

Hath sent you heere this ring, and doth intreat Your company at dinner

Por. That cannot be;

His ring I doe accept most thankfully,

And so I pray you tell him: furthermore,

I pray you shew my youth old Shylockes house

Gra. That will I doe

Ner. Sir, I would speake with you:

Ile see if I can get my husbands ring

Which I did make him sweare to keepe for euer

Por. Thou maist I warrant, we shal haue old swearing That they did
giue the rings away to men; But weele out-face them, and out-sweare
them to: Away, make haste, thou know'st where I will tarry

Ner. Come good sir, will you shew me to this house.

Exeunt.



Actus Quintus.

Enter Lorenzo and Iessica.

Lor. The moone shines bright. In such a night as this, When the sweet
winde did gently kisse the trees, And they did make no noyse, in such a
night Troylus me thinkes mounted the Troian walls, And sigh'd his soule
toward the Grecian tents Where Cressed lay that night

Ies. In such a night

Did Thisbie fearefully ore-trip the dewe, And saw the Lyons shadow ere
himselfe,

And ranne dismayed away

Loren. In such a night

Stood Dido with a Willow in her hand

Vpon the wilde sea bankes, and waft her Loue To come againe to
Carthage

Ies. In such a night

Medea gathered the inchanted hearbs

That did renew old Eson

Loren. In such a night

Did Iessica steale from the wealthy Iewe, And with an Vnthrift Loue did
runne from Venice, As farre as Belmont

Ies. In such a night

Did young Lorenzo sweare he lou'd her well, Stealing her soule with
many vowes of faith, And nere a true one

Loren. In such a night

Did pretty Iessica (like a little shrow)

Slander her Loue, and he forgaue it her

Iessi. I would out-night you did no body come: But harke, I heare
the footing of a man.

Enter Messenger.

Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?   Mes. A friend

Loren. A friend, what friend? your name I pray you friend?   Mes.
Stephano is my name, and I bring word My Mistresse will before the
breake of day Be heere at Belmont, she doth stray about By holy crosses
where she kneeles and prayes For happy wedlocke houres

Loren. Who comes with her?

Mes. None but a holy Hermit and her maid: I pray you is my Master yet
return'd?

Loren. He is not, nor we haue not heard from him, But goe we in I
pray thee Iessica,

And ceremoniously let vs prepare

Some welcome for the Mistresse of the house, Enter Clowne.

Clo. Sola, sola: wo ha ho, sola, sola

Loren. Who calls?

Clo. Sola, did you see M[aster]. Lorenzo, & M[aster]. Lorenzo, sola,

Lor. Leaue hollowing man, heere

Clo. Sola, where, where?

Lor. Heere?

Clo. Tel him ther's a Post come from my Master, with his horne full
of good newes, my Master will be here ere morning sweete soule

Loren. Let's in, and there expect their comming. And yet no matter:
why should we goe in?

My friend Stephen, signifie pray you

Within the house, your Mistresse is at hand, And bring your musique
foorth into the ayre. How sweet the moone-light sleepes vpon this
banke, Heere will we sit, and let the sounds of musicke Creepe in our
eares soft stilnes, and the night Become the tutches of sweet
harmonie:

Sit Iessica, looke how the floore of heauen Is thicke inlayed with
pattens of bright gold, There's not the smallest orbe which thou
beholdst But in his motion like an Angell sings,

Still quiring to the young eyed Cherubins; Such harmonie is in
immortall soules,

But whilst this muddy vesture of decay

Doth grosly close in it, we cannot heare it: Come hoe, and wake Diana
with a hymne,

With sweetest tutches pearce your Mistresse eare, And draw her home
with musicke

Iessi. I am neuer merry when I heare sweet musique.

Play musicke.

Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentiue: For doe but note a
wilde and wanton heard Or race of youthful and vnhandled colts,

Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, Which is the hot
condition of their bloud, If they but heare perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any ayre of musicke touch their eares, You shall perceiue them make
a mutuall stand, Their sauage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, By the
sweet power of musicke: therefore the Poet Did faine that Orpheus drew
trees, stones, and floods. Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of
rage, But musicke for time doth change his nature, The man that hath no
musicke in himselfe, Nor is not moued with concord of sweet sounds, Is
fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoyles, The motions of his spirit
are dull as night, And his affections darke as Erobus,

Let no such man be trusted: marke the musicke. Enter Portia and
Nerrissa.

Por. That light we see is burning in my hall: How farre that little
candell throwes his beames, So shines a good deed in a naughty world

Ner. When the moone shone we did not see the candle?   Por. So doth
the greater glory dim the lesse, A substitute shines brightly as a
King

Vntill a King be by, and then his state

Empties it selfe, as doth an inland brooke Into the maine of waters:
musique, harke.

Musicke.

Ner. It is your musicke Madame of the house

Por. Nothing is good I see without respect, Methinkes it sounds much
sweeter then by day?   Ner. Silence bestowes that vertue on it Madam

Por. The Crow doth sing as sweetly as the Larke When neither is
attended: and I thinke

The Nightingale if she should sing by day When euery Goose is cackling,
would be thought No better a Musitian then the Wren?

How many things by season, season'd are

To their right praise, and true perfection: Peace, how the Moone
sleepes with Endimion, And would not be awak'd.

Musicke ceases.

Lor. That is the voice,

Or I am much deceiu'd of Portia

Por. He knowes me as the blinde man knowes the Cuckow by the bad
voice?

Lor. Deere Lady welcome home?

Por. We haue bene praying for our husbands welfare Which speed we
hope the better for our words, Are they return'd?

Lor. Madam, they are not yet:

But there is come a Messenger before

To signifie their comming

Por. Go in Nerrissa,

Giue order to my seruants, that they take No note at all of our being
absent hence, Nor you Lorenzo, Iessica nor you.

A Tucket sounds.

Lor. Your husband is at hand, I heare his Trumpet, We are no
tell-tales Madam, feare you not

Por. This night methinkes is but the daylight sicke, It lookes a
little paler, 'tis a day,

Such as the day is, when the Sun is hid.

Enter Bassanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their Followers.

Bas. We should hold day with the Antipodes, If you would walke in
absence of the sunne

Por. Let me giue light, but let me not be light, For a light wife
doth make a heauie husband, And neuer be Bassanio so for me,

But God sort all: you are welcome home my Lord

Bass. I thanke you Madam, giue welcom to my friend This is the man,
this is Anthonio,

To whom I am so infinitely bound

Por. You should in all sence be much bound to him, For as I heare he
was much bound for you

Anth. No more then I am wel acquitted of

Por. Sir, you are verie welcome to our house: It must appeare in
other waies then words, Therefore I scant this breathing curtesie

Gra. By yonder Moone I sweare you do me wrong, Infaith I gaue it to
the Iudges Clearke,

Would he were gelt that had it for my part, Since you do take it Loue
so much at hart

Por. A quarrel hoe alreadie, what's the matter?   Gra. About a hoope
of Gold, a paltry Ring That she did giue me, whose Poesie was

For all the world like Cutlers Poetry

Vpon a knife; Loue mee, and leaue mee not

Ner. What talke you of the Poesie or the valew: You swore to me when
I did giue it you,

That you would weare it til the houre of death, And that it should lye
with you in your graue, Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should haue beene respectiue and haue kept it. Gaue it a Iudges
Clearke: but wel I know

The Clearke wil nere weare haire on's face that had it

Gra. He wil, and if he liue to be a man

Nerrissa. I, if a Woman liue to be a man

Gra. Now by this hand I gaue it to a youth, A kinde of boy, a little
scrubbed boy,

No higher then thy selfe, the Iudges Clearke, A prating boy that begg'd
it as a Fee,

I could not for my heart deny it him

Por. You were too blame, I must be plaine with you, To part so
slightly with your wiues first gift, A thing stucke on with oathes vpon
your finger, And so riueted with faith vnto your flesh. I gaue my Loue
a Ring, and made him sweare Neuer to part with it, and heere he stands:
I dare be sworne for him, he would not leaue it, Nor plucke it from his
finger, for the wealth That the world masters. Now in faith Gratiano,
You giue your wife too vnkinde a cause of greefe, And 'twere to me I
should be mad at it

Bass. Why I were best to cut my left hand off, And sweare I lost the
Ring defending it

Gra. My Lord Bassanio gaue his Ring away Vnto the Iudge that beg'd
it, and indeede Deseru'd it too: and then the Boy his Clearke That
tooke some paines in writing, he begg'd mine, And neyther man nor
master would take ought But the two Rings

Por. What Ring gaue you my Lord?

Not that I hope which you receiu'd of me

Bass. If I could adde a lie vnto a fault, I would deny it: but you
see my finger

Hath not the Ring vpon it, it is gone

Por. Euen so voide is your false heart of truth. By heauen I wil
nere come in your bed

Vntil I see the Ring

Ner. Nor I in yours, til I againe see mine

Bass. Sweet Portia,

If you did know to whom I gaue the Ring,

If you did know for whom I gaue the Ring, And would conceiue for what I
gaue the Ring, And how vnwillingly I left the Ring,

When nought would be accepted but the Ring, You would abate the
strength of your displeasure?   Por. If you had knowne the vertue of
the Ring, Or halfe her worthinesse that gaue the Ring, Or your owne
honour to containe the Ring, You would not then haue parted with the
Ring: What man is there so much vnreasonable,

If you had pleas'd to haue defended it

With any termes of Zeale: wanted the modestie To vrge the thing held as
a ceremonie:

Nerrissa teaches me what to beleeue,

Ile die for't, but some Woman had the Ring?   Bass. No by mine honor
Madam, by my soule No Woman had it, but a ciuill Doctor,

Which did refuse three thousand Ducates of me, And beg'd the Ring; the
which I did denie him, And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away:

Euen he that had held vp the verie life

Of my deere friend. What should I say sweete Lady? I was inforc'd to
send it after him,

I was beset with shame and curtesie,

My honor would not let ingratitude

So much besmeare it. Pardon me good Lady, And by these blessed Candles
of the night, Had you bene there, I thinke you would haue beg'd The
Ring of me, to giue the worthie Doctor?   Por. Let not that Doctor ere
come neere my house, Since he hath got the iewell that I loued, And
that which you did sweare to keepe for me, I will become as liberall as
you,

Ile not deny him any thing I haue,

No, not my body, nor my husbands bed:

Know him I shall, I am well sure of it.

Lie not a night from home. Watch me like Argos, If you doe not, if I be
left alone,

Now by mine honour which is yet mine owne, Ile haue the Doctor for my
bedfellow

Nerrissa. And I his Clarke: therefore be well aduis'd How you doe
leaue me to mine owne protection

Gra. Well, doe you so: let not me take him then, For if I doe, ile
mar the yong Clarks pen

Ant. I am th' vnhappy subiect of these quarrels

Por. Sir, grieue not you,

You are welcome notwithstanding

Bas. Portia, forgiue me this enforced wrong, And in the hearing of
these manie friends I sweare to thee, euen by thine owne faire eyes
Wherein I see my selfe

Por. Marke you but that?

In both my eyes he doubly sees himselfe:

In each eye one, sweare by your double selfe, And there's an oath of
credit

Bas. Nay, but heare me.

Pardon this fault, and by my soule I sweare I neuer more will breake an
oath with thee

Anth. I once did lend my bodie for thy wealth, Which but for him
that had your husbands ring Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound
againe, My soule vpon the forfeit, that your Lord Will neuer more
breake faith aduisedlie

Por. Then you shall be his suretie: giue him this, And bid him keepe
it better then the other

Ant. Heere Lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring

Bass. By heauen it is the same I gaue the Doctor

Por. I had it of him: pardon Bassanio, For by this ring the Doctor
lay with me

Ner. And pardon me my gentle Gratiano, For that same scrubbed boy
the Doctors Clarke In liew of this, last night did lye with me

Gra. Why this is like the mending of high waies In Sommer, where the
waies are faire enough: What, are we Cuckolds ere we haue deseru'd it

Por. Speake not so grossely, you are all amaz'd; Heere is a letter,
reade it at your leysure, It comes from Padua from Bellario,

There you shall finde that Portia was the Doctor, Nerrissa there her
Clarke. Lorenzo heere

Shall witnesse I set forth as soone as you, And but eu'n now return'd:
I haue not yet Entred my house. Anthonio you are welcome, And I haue
better newes in store for you

Then you expect: vnseale this letter soone, There you shall finde three
of your Argosies Are richly come to harbour sodainlie.

You shall not know by what strange accident I chanced on this letter

Antho. I am dumbe

Bass. Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not?   Gra. Were you the
Clark that is to make me cuckold

Ner. I, but the Clark that neuer meanes to doe it, Vnlesse he liue
vntill he be a man

Bass. (Sweet Doctor) you shall be my bedfellow, When I am absent,
then lie with my wife

An. (Sweet Ladie) you haue giuen me life & liuing; For heere I reade
for certaine that my ships Are safelie come to Rode

Por. How now Lorenzo?

My Clarke hath some good comforts to for you

Ner. I, and Ile giue them him without a fee. There doe I giue to you
and Iessica

From the rich Iewe, a speciall deed of gift After his death, of all he
dies possess'd of

Loren. Faire Ladies you drop Manna in the way Of starued people

Por. It is almost morning,

And yet I am sure you are not satisfied

Of these euents at full. Let vs goe in,

And charge vs there vpon intergatories,

And we will answer all things faithfully

Gra. Let it be so, the first intergatory That my Nerrissa shall be
sworne on, is,

Whether till the next night she had rather stay, Or goe to bed, now
being two houres to day, But were the day come, I should wish it darke,
Till I were couching with the Doctors Clarke. Well, while I liue, Ile
feare no other thing So sore, as keeping safe Nerrissas ring.

Exeunt.

FINIS. The Merchant of Venice.



As you Like it

Actus primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

Orlando. As I remember Adam, it was vpon this fashion bequeathed me
by will, but poore a thousand Crownes, and as thou saist, charged my
brother on his blessing to breed mee well: and

there begins my sadnesse: My brother Iaques he keepes at schoole, and
report speakes goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keepes me
rustically at home, or (to speak more properly) staies me heere at home
vnkept: for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that
differs not from the stalling of an Oxe? his horses are bred better,
for besides that they are faire with their feeding, they are taught
their mannage, and to that end Riders deerely hir'd: but I (his
brother) gaine nothing vnder him but growth, for the which his Animals
on his dunghils are as much bound to him as I: besides this nothing
that he so plentifully giues me, the something that nature gaue mee,
his countenance seemes to take from me: hee lets mee feede with his
Hindes, barres mee the place of a brother, and as much as in him lies,
mines my gentility with my education. This is it Adam that grieues me,
and the spirit of my Father, which I thinke is within mee, begins to
mutinie against this seruitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet
I know no wise remedy how to auoid it.

Enter Oliuer.

Adam. Yonder comes my Master, your brother

Orlan. Goe a-part Adam, and thou shalt heare how he will shake me
vp

Oli. Now Sir, what make you heere?

Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing

Oli. What mar you then sir?

Orl. Marry sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poore
vnworthy brother of yours with idlenesse

Oliuer. Marry sir be better employed, and be naught a while

Orlan. Shall I keepe your hogs, and eat huskes with them? what
prodigall portion haue I spent, that I should come to such penury?

Oli. Know you where you are sir?

Orl. O sir, very well: heere in your Orchard

Oli. Know you before whom sir?

Orl. I, better then him I am before knowes mee: I know you are my
eldest brother, and in the gentle condition of bloud you should so know
me: the courtesie of nations allowes you my better, in that you are the
first borne, but the same tradition takes not away my bloud, were there
twenty brothers betwixt vs: I haue as much of my father in mee, as you,
albeit I confesse your comming before me is neerer to his reuerence

Oli. What Boy

Orl. Come, come elder brother, you are too yong in this

Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me villaine?   Orl. I am no villaine: I
am the yongest sonne of Sir Rowland de Boys, he was my father, and he
is thrice a villaine that saies such a father begot villaines: wert
thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, till
this other had puld out thy tongue for saying so, thou hast raild on
thy selfe

Adam. Sweet Masters bee patient, for your Fathers remembrance, be at
accord

Oli. Let me goe I say

Orl. I will not till I please: you shall heare mee: my father
charg'd you in his will to giue me good education: you haue train'd me
like a pezant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like
qualities: the spirit of my father growes strong in mee, and I will no
longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become a
gentleman, or giue mee the poore allottery my father left me by
testament, with that I will goe buy my fortunes

Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg when that is spent? Well sir, get
you in. I will not long be troubled with you: you shall haue some part
of your will, I pray you leaue me

Orl. I will no further offend you, then becomes mee for my good

Oli. Get you with him, you olde dogge

Adam. Is old dogge my reward: most true, I haue lost my teeth in
your seruice: God be with my olde master, he would not haue spoke such
a word.

Ex. Orl. Ad.

Oli. Is it euen so, begin you to grow vpon me? I will physicke your
ranckenesse, and yet giue no thousand crownes neyther: holla Dennis.

Enter Dennis.

Den. Calls your worship?

Oli. Was not Charles the Dukes Wrastler heere to speake with me?

Den. So please you, he is heere at the doore, and importunes accesse
to you

Oli. Call him in: 'twill be a good way: and to morrow the wrastling
is.

Enter Charles.

Cha. Good morrow to your worship

Oli. Good Mounsier Charles: what's the new newes at the new Court?

Charles. There's no newes at the Court Sir, but the olde newes: that
is, the old Duke is banished by his yonger brother the new Duke, and
three or foure louing Lords haue put themselues into voluntary exile
with him, whose lands and reuenues enrich the new Duke, therefore he
giues them good leaue to wander

Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind the Dukes daughter bee banished with
her Father?

Cha. O no; for the Dukes daughter her Cosen so loues her, being euer
from their Cradles bred together, that hee would haue followed her
exile, or haue died to stay behind her; she is at the Court, and no
lesse beloued of her Vncle, then his owne daughter, and neuer two
Ladies loued as they doe

Oli. Where will the old Duke liue?

Cha. They say hee is already in the Forrest of Arden, and a many
merry men with him; and there they liue like the old Robin Hood of
England: they say many yong Gentlemen flocke to him euery day, and
fleet the time carelesly as they did in the golden world

Oli. What, you wrastle to morrow before the new Duke

Cha. Marry doe I sir: and I came to acquaint you with a matter: I am
giuen sir secretly to vnderstand, that your yonger brother Orlando hath
a disposition to come in disguis'd against mee to try a fall: to morrow
sir I wrastle for my credit, and hee that escapes me without some
broken limbe, shall acquit him well: your brother is but young and
tender, and for your loue I would bee loth to foyle him, as I must for
my owne honour if hee come in: therefore out of my loue to you, I came
hither to acquaint you withall, that either you might stay him from his
intendment, or brooke such disgrace well as he shall runne into, in
that it is a thing of his owne search, and altogether against my will

Oli. Charles , I thanke thee for thy loue to me, which thou shalt
finde I will most kindly requite: I had my selfe notice of my Brothers
purpose heerein, and haue by vnder-hand meanes laboured to disswade him
from it; but he is resolute. Ile tell thee Charles, it is the
stubbornest yong fellow of France, full of ambition, an enuious
emulator of euery mans good parts, a secret & villanous contriuer
against mee his naturall brother: therefore vse thy discretion, I had
as liefe thou didst breake his necke as his finger. And thou wert best
looke to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if hee doe not
mightilie grace himselfe on thee, hee will practise against thee by
poyson, entrap thee by some treacherous deuise, and neuer leaue thee
till he hath tane thy life by some indirect meanes or other: for I
assure thee, (and almost with teares I speake it) there is not one so
young, and so villanous this day liuing. I speake but brotherly of him,
but should I anathomize him to thee, as hee is, I must blush, and
weepe, and thou must looke pale and wonder

Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: if hee come to morrow,
Ile giue him his payment: if euer hee goe alone againe, Ile neuer
wrastle for prize more: and so God keepe your worship.

Enter.

Farewell good Charles. Now will I stirre this Gamester: I hope I shall
see an end of him; for my soule (yet I know not why) hates nothing more
then he: yet hee's gentle, neuer school'd, and yet learned, full of
noble deuise, of all sorts enchantingly beloued, and indeed so much in
the heart of the world, and especially of my owne people, who best know
him, that I am altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long, this
wrastler shall cleare all: nothing remaines, but that I kindle the boy
thither, which now Ile goe about.

Enter.



Scoena Secunda.

Enter Rosalind, and Cellia.

Cel. I pray thee Rosalind, sweet my Coz, be merry

Ros. Deere Cellia; I show more mirth then I am mistresse of, and
would you yet were merrier: vnlesse you could teach me to forget a
banished father, you must not learne mee how to remember any
extraordinary pleasure

Cel. Heerein I see thou lou'st mee not with the full waight that I
loue thee; if my Vncle thy banished father had banished thy Vncle the
Duke my Father, so thou hadst beene still with mee, I could haue taught
my loue to take thy father for mine; so wouldst thou, if the truth of
thy loue to me were so righteously temper'd, as mine is to thee

Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to reioyce in
yours

Cel. You know my Father hath no childe, but I, nor none is like to
haue; and truely when he dies, thou shalt be his heire; for what hee
hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee againe in
affection: by mine honor I will, and when I breake that oath, let mee
turne monster: therefore my sweet Rose, my deare Rose, be merry

Ros. From henceforth I will Coz, and deuise sports: let me see, what
thinke you of falling in Loue?   Cel. Marry I prethee doe, to make
sport withall: but loue no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport
neyther, then with safety of a pure blush, thou maist in honor come off
againe

Ros. What shall be our sport then?

Cel. Let vs sit and mocke the good houswife Fortune from her wheele,
that her gifts may henceforth bee bestowed equally

Ros. I would wee could doe so: for her benefits are mightily
misplaced, and the bountifull blinde woman doth most mistake in her
gifts to women

Cel. 'Tis true, for those that she makes faire, she scarce makes
honest, & those that she makes honest, she makes very illfauouredly

Ros. Nay now thou goest from Fortunes office to Natures: Fortune
reignes in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature.

Enter Clowne.

Cel. No; when Nature hath made a faire creature, may she not by
Fortune fall into the fire? though nature hath giuen vs wit to flout at
Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this foole to cut off the argument?
Ros. Indeed there is fortune too hard for nature, when fortune makes
natures naturall, the cutter off of natures witte

Cel. Peraduenture this is not Fortunes work neither, but Natures,
who perceiueth our naturall wits too dull to reason of such goddesses,
hath sent this Naturall for our whetstone: for alwaies the dulnesse of
the foole, is the whetstone of the wits. How now Witte, whether wander
you?

Clow. Mistresse, you must come away to your father

Cel. Were you made the messenger?

Clo. No by mine honor, but I was bid to come for you   Ros. Where
learned you that oath foole?   Clo. Of a certaine Knight, that swore by
his Honour they were good Pan-cakes, and swore by his Honor the Mustard
was naught: Now Ile stand to it, the Pancakes were naught, and the
Mustard was good, and yet was not the Knight forsworne

Cel. How proue you that in the great heape of your knowledge?

Ros. I marry, now vnmuzzle your wisedome

Clo. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chinnes, and sweare by
your beards that I am a knaue

Cel. By our beards (if we had them) thou art

Clo. By my knauerie (if I had it) then I were: but if you sweare by
that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight
swearing by his Honor, for he neuer had anie; or if he had, he had
sworne it away, before euer he saw those Pancakes, or that Mustard

Cel. Prethee, who is't that thou means't?   Clo. One that old
Fredericke your Father loues

Ros. My Fathers loue is enough to honor him enough; speake no more
of him, you'l be whipt for taxation one of these daies

Clo. The more pittie that fooles may not speak wisely, what Wisemen
do foolishly

Cel. By my troth thou saiest true: For, since the little wit that
fooles haue was silenced, the little foolerie that wise men haue makes
a great shew; Heere comes Monsieur the Beu.

Enter le Beau.

Ros. With his mouth full of newes

Cel. Which he will put on vs, as Pigeons feed their young

Ros. Then shal we be newes-cram'd

Cel. All the better: we shalbe the more Marketable. Boon-iour
Monsieur le Beu, what's the newes?   Le Beu. Faire Princesse,

you haue lost much good sport

Cel. Sport: of what colour?

Le Beu. What colour Madame? How shall I aunswer you?

Ros. As wit and fortune will

Clo. Or as the destinies decrees

Cel. Well said, that was laid on with a trowell

Clo. Nay, if I keepe not my ranke

Ros. Thou loosest thy old smell

Le Beu. You amaze me Ladies: I would haue told you of good
wrastling, which you haue lost the sight of

Ros. Yet tell vs the manner of the Wrastling

Le Beu. I wil tell you the beginning: and if it please your
Ladiships, you may see the end, for the best is yet to doe, and heere
where you are, they are comming to performe it

Cel. Well, the beginning that is dead and buried

Le Beu. There comes an old man, and his three sons

Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale

Le Beu. Three proper yong men, of excellent growth and presence

Ros. With bils on their neckes: Be it knowne vnto all men by these
presents

Le Beu. The eldest of the three, wrastled with Charles the Dukes
Wrastler, which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his
ribbes, that there is little hope of life in him: So he seru'd the
second, and so the third: yonder they lie, the poore old man their
Father, making such pittiful dole ouer them, that all the beholders
take his part with weeping

Ros. Alas

Clo. But what is the sport Monsieur, that the Ladies haue lost?

Le Beu. Why this that I speake of

Clo. Thus men may grow wiser euery day. It is the first time that
euer I heard breaking of ribbes was sport for Ladies

Cel. Or I, I promise thee

Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken Musicke in his
sides? Is there yet another doates vpon rib-breaking? Shall we see this
wrastling Cosin?   Le Beu. You must if you stay heere, for heere is the
place appointed for the wrastling, and they are ready to performe it

Cel. Yonder sure they are comming. Let vs now stay and see it.

Flourish. Enter Duke, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and Attendants.

Duke. Come on, since the youth will not be intreated His owne perill
on his forwardnesse

Ros. Is yonder the man?

Le Beu. Euen he, Madam

Cel. Alas, he is too yong: yet he looks successefully   Du. How now
daughter, and Cousin:

Are you crept hither to see the wrastling?   Ros. I my Liege, so please
you giue vs leaue

Du. You wil take little delight in it, I can tell you there is such
oddes in the man: In pitie of the challengers youth, I would faine
disswade him, but he will not bee entreated. Speake to him Ladies, see
if you can mooue him

Cel. Call him hether good Monsieuer Le Beu

Duke. Do so: Ile not be by

Le Beu. Monsieur the Challenger, the Princesse cals for you

Orl. I attend them with all respect and dutie

Ros. Young man, haue you challeng'd Charles the Wrastler?

Orl. No faire Princesse: he is the generall challenger, I come but in
as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth

Cel. Yong Gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your yeares: you
haue seene cruell proofe of this mans strength, if you saw your selfe
with your eies, or knew your selfe with your iudgment, the feare of
your aduenture would counsel you to a more equall enterprise. We pray
you for your owne sake to embrace your own safetie, and giue ouer this
attempt

Ros. Do yong Sir, your reputation shall not therefore be misprised:
we wil make it our suite to the Duke, that the wrastling might not go
forward

Orl. I beseech you, punish mee not with your harde thoughts, wherein
I confesse me much guiltie to denie so faire and excellent Ladies anie
thing. But let your faire eies, and gentle wishes go with mee to my
triall; wherein if I bee foil'd, there is but one sham'd that was neuer
gracious: if kil'd, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do
my friends no wrong, for I haue none to lament me: the world no
iniurie, for in it I haue nothing: onely in the world I fil vp a place,
which may bee better supplied, when I haue made it emptie

Ros. The little strength that I haue, I would it were with you

Cel. And mine to eeke out hers

Ros. Fare you well: praie heauen I be deceiu'd in you

Cel. Your hearts desires be with you

Char. Come, where is this yong gallant, that is so desirous to lie
with his mother earth?

Orl. Readie Sir, but his will hath in it a more modest working

Duk. You shall trie but one fall

Cha. No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat him to a second,
that haue so mightilie perswaded him from a first

Orl. You meane to mocke me after: you should not haue mockt me
before: but come your waies

Ros. Now Hercules, be thy speede yong man

Cel. I would I were inuisible, to catch the strong fellow by the
legge.

Wrastle.

Ros. Oh excellent yong man

Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eie, I can tell who should
downe.

Shout.

Duk. No more, no more

Orl. Yes I beseech your Grace, I am not yet well breath'd

Duk. How do'st thou Charles?

Le Beu. He cannot speake my Lord

Duk. Beare him awaie:

What is thy name yong man?

Orl. Orlando my Liege, the yongest sonne of Sir Roland de Boys

Duk. I would thou hadst beene son to some man else, The world
esteem'd thy father honourable, But I did finde him still mine enemie:

Thou should'st haue better pleas'd me with this deede, Hadst thou
descended from another house:

But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth, I would thou had'st told
me of another Father.

Exit Duke.

Cel. Were I my Father (Coze) would I do this?   Orl. I am more proud
to be Sir Rolands sonne, His yongest sonne, and would not change that
calling To be adopted heire to Fredricke

Ros. My Father lou'd Sir Roland as his soule, And all the world was
of my Fathers minde, Had I before knowne this yong man his sonne, I
should haue giuen him teares vnto entreaties, Ere he should thus haue
ventur'd

Cel. Gentle Cosen,

Let vs goe thanke him, and encourage him: My Fathers rough and enuious
disposition

Sticks me at heart: Sir, you haue well deseru'd, If you doe keepe your
promises in loue;

But iustly as you haue exceeded all promise, Your Mistris shall be
happie

Ros. Gentleman,

Weare this for me: one out of suites with fortune That could giue more,
but that her hand lacks meanes. Shall we goe Coze?

Cel. I: fare you well faire Gentleman

Orl. Can I not say, I thanke you? My better parts Are all throwne
downe, and that which here stands vp Is but a quintine, a meere
liuelesse blocke

Ros. He cals vs back: my pride fell with my fortunes, Ile aske him
what he would: Did you call Sir? Sir, you haue wrastled well, and
ouerthrowne More then your enemies

Cel. Will you goe Coze?

Ros. Haue with you: fare you well.

Enter.

Orl. What passion hangs these waights vpo[n] my toong? I cannot
speake to her, yet she vrg'd conference. Enter Le Beu.

O poore Orlando! thou art ouerthrowne

Or Charles, or something weaker masters thee

Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsaile you To leaue this
place; Albeit you haue deseru'd High commendation, true applause, and
loue; Yet such is now the Dukes condition,

That he misconsters all that you haue done: The Duke is humorous, what
he is indeede

More suites you to conceiue, then I to speake of

Orl. I thanke you Sir; and pray you tell me this, Which of the two
was daughter of the Duke, That here was at the Wrastling?

Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we iudge by manners, But yet indeede
the taller is his daughter, The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her vsurping Vncle

To keepe his daughter companie, whose loues Are deerer then the
naturall bond of Sisters: But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath tane displeasure 'gainst his gentle Neece, Grounded vpon no other
argument,

But that the people praise her for her vertues, And pittie her, for her
good Fathers sake; And on my life his malice 'gainst the Lady Will
sodainly breake forth: Sir, fare you well, Hereafter in a better world
then this,

I shall desire more loue and knowledge of you

Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well. Thus must I from the
smoake into the smother, From tyrant Duke, vnto a tyrant Brother.

But heauenly Rosaline.

Exit



Scena Tertius.

Enter Celia and Rosaline.

Cel. Why Cosen, why Rosaline: Cupid haue mercie, Not a word?

Ros. Not one to throw at a dog

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away vpon curs, throw
some of them at me; come lame mee with reasons

Ros. Then there were two Cosens laid vp, when the one should be
lam'd with reasons, and the other mad without any

Cel. But is all this for your Father?

Ros. No, some of it is for my childes Father: Oh how full of briers
is this working day world

Cel. They are but burs, Cosen, throwne vpon thee in holiday
foolerie, if we walke not in the trodden paths our very petty-coates
will catch them

Ros. I could shake them off my coate, these burs are in my heart

Cel. Hem them away

Ros. I would try if I could cry hem, and haue him

Cel. Come, come, wrastle with thy affections

Ros. O they take the part of a better wrastler then my selfe

Cel. O, a good wish vpon you: you will trie in time in dispight of a
fall: but turning these iests out of seruice, let vs talke in good
earnest: Is it possible on such a sodaine, you should fall into so
strong a liking with old Sir Roulands yongest sonne?

Ros. The Duke my Father lou'd his Father deerelie

Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should loue his Sonne
deerelie? By this kinde of chase, I should hate him, for my father
hated his father deerely; yet I hate not Orlando

Ros. No faith, hate him not for my sake

Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserue well? Enter Duke with
Lords.

Ros. Let me loue him for that, and do you loue him Because I doe.
Looke, here comes the Duke

Cel. With his eies full of anger

Duk. Mistris, dispatch you with your safest haste, And get you from
our Court

Ros. Me Vncle

Duk. You Cosen,

Within these ten daies if that thou beest found So neere our publike
Court as twentie miles, Thou diest for it

Ros. I doe beseech your Grace

Let me the knowledge of my fault beare with me: If with my selfe I hold
intelligence,

Or haue acquaintance with mine owne desires, If that I doe not dreame,
or be not franticke, (As I doe trust I am not) then deere Vncle, Neuer
so much as in a thought vnborne,

Did I offend your highnesse

Duk. Thus doe all Traitors,

If their purgation did consist in words,

They are as innocent as grace it selfe;

Let is suffice thee that I trust thee not

Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a Traitor; Tell me whereon the
likelihoods depends?

Duk. Thou art thy Fathers daughter, there's enough

Ros. So was I when your highnes took his Dukdome, So was I when your
highnesse banisht him; Treason is not inherited my Lord,

Or if we did deriue it from our friends,

What's that to me, my Father was no Traitor, Then good my Leige,
mistake me not so much, To thinke my pouertie is treacherous

Cel. Deere Soueraigne heare me speake

Duk. I Celia, we staid her for your sake, Else had she with her
Father rang'd along

Cel. I did not then intreat to haue her stay, It was your pleasure,
and your owne remorse, I was too yong that time to value her,

But now I know her: if she be a Traitor,

Why so am I: we still haue slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd,
plaid, eate together, And wheresoere we went, like Iunos Swans, Still
we went coupled and inseperable

Duk. She is too subtile for thee, and her smoothnes; Her verie
silence, and her patience,

Speake to the people, and they pittie her: Thou art a foole, she robs
thee of thy name, And thou wilt show more bright, & seem more vertuous
When she is gone: then open not thy lips

Firme, and irreuocable is my doombe,

Which I haue past vpon her, she is banish'd

Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me my Leige, I cannot liue out
of her companie

Duk. You are a foole: you Neice prouide your selfe, If you out-stay
the time, vpon mine honor, And in the greatnesse of my word you die.

Exit Duke, &c.

Cel. O my poore Rosaline, whether wilt thou goe? Wilt thou change
Fathers? I will giue thee mine: I charge thee be not thou more grieu'd
then I am

Ros. I haue more cause

Cel. Thou hast not Cosen,

Prethee be cheerefull; know'st thou not the Duke Hath banish'd me his
daughter?

Ros. That he hath not

Cel. No, hath not? Rosaline lacks then the loue Which teacheth thee
that thou and I am one, Shall we be sundred? shall we part sweete
girle? No, let my Father seeke another heire:

Therefore deuise with me how we may flie

Whether to goe, and what to beare with vs, And doe not seeke to take
your change vpon you, To beare your griefes your selfe, and leaue me
out: For by this heauen, now at our sorrowes pale; Say what thou canst,
Ile goe along with thee

Ros. Why, whether shall we goe?

Cel. To seeke my Vncle in the Forrest of Arden

Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to vs, (Maides as we are) to
trauell forth so farre? Beautie prouoketh theeues sooner then gold

Cel. Ile put my selfe in poore and meane attire, And with a kinde of
vmber smirch my face, The like doe you, so shall we passe along, And
neuer stir assailants

Ros. Were it not better,

Because that I am more then common tall,

That I did suite me all points like a man, A gallant curtelax vpon my
thigh,

A bore-speare in my hand, and in my heart Lye there what hidden womans
feare there will, Weele haue a swashing and a marshall outside, As
manie other mannish cowards haue,

That doe outface it with their semblances

Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man?   Ros. Ile haue no
worse a name then Ioues owne Page, And therefore looke you call me
Ganimed.

But what will you be call'd?

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state: No longer Celia,
but Aliena

Ros. But Cosen, what if we assaid to steale The clownish Foole out
of your Fathers Court: Would he not be a comfort to our trauaile? Cel.
Heele goe along ore the wide world with me, Leaue me alone to woe him;
Let's away

And get our Iewels and our wealth together, Deuise the fittest time,
and safest way

To hide vs from pursuite that will be made After my flight: now goe in
we content

To libertie, and not to banishment.

Exeunt.



Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Duke Senior: Amyens, and two or three Lords like Forresters.

Duk.Sen. Now my Coe-mates, and brothers in exile: Hath not old
custome made this life more sweete Then that of painted pompe? Are not
these woods More free from perill then the enuious Court? Heere feele
we not the penaltie of Adam,

The seasons difference, as the Icie phange And churlish chiding of the
winters winde, Which when it bites and blowes vpon my body Euen till I
shrinke with cold, I smile, and say This is no flattery: these are
counsellors That feelingly perswade me what I am:

Sweet are the vses of aduersitie

Which like the toad, ougly and venemous,

Weares yet a precious Iewell in his head: And this our life exempt from
publike haunt, Findes tongues in trees, bookes in the running brookes,
Sermons in stones, and good in euery thing

Amien. I would not change it, happy is your Grace That can translate
the stubbornnesse of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a stile

Du.Sen. Come, shall we goe and kill vs venison? And yet it irkes me
the poore dapled fooles Being natiue Burgers of this desert City,
Should in their owne confines with forked heads Haue their round
hanches goard

1.Lord. Indeed my Lord

The melancholy Iaques grieues at that,

And in that kinde sweares you doe more vsurpe Then doth your brother
that hath banish'd you: To day my Lord of Amiens, and my selfe,

Did steale behinde him as he lay along

Vnder an oake, whose anticke roote peepes out Vpon the brooke that
brawles along this wood, To the which place a poore sequestred Stag
That from the Hunters aime had tane a hurt, Did come to languish; and
indeed my Lord

The wretched annimall heau'd forth such groanes That their discharge
did stretch his leatherne coat Almost to bursting, and the big round
teares Cours'd one another downe his innocent nose In pitteous chase:
and thus the hairie foole, Much marked of the melancholie Iaques,

Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brooke, Augmenting it with
teares

Du.Sen. But what said Iaques?

Did he not moralize this spectacle?

1.Lord. O yes, into a thousand similies. First, for his weeping into
the needlesse streame; Poore Deere quoth he, thou mak'st a testament As
worldlings doe, giuing thy sum of more To that which had too much: then
being there alone, Left and abandoned of his veluet friend;

'Tis right quoth he, thus miserie doth part The Fluxe of companie: anon
a carelesse Heard Full of the pasture, iumps along by him

And neuer staies to greet him: I quoth Iaques, Sweepe on you fat and
greazie Citizens,

'Tis iust the fashion; wherefore doe you looke Vpon that poore and
broken bankrupt there? Thus most inuectiuely he pierceth through The
body of Countrie, Citie, Court,

Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we Are meere vsurpers,
tyrants, and whats worse To fright the Annimals, and to kill them vp In
their assign'd and natiue dwelling place

D.Sen. And did you leaue him in this contemplation?   2.Lord. We did
my Lord, weeping and commenting Vpon the sobbing Deere

Du.Sen. Show me the place,

I loue to cope him in these sullen fits,

For then he's full of matter

1.Lor. Ile bring you to him strait.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Duke, with Lords.

Duk. Can it be possible that no man saw them? It cannot be, some
villaines of my Court

Are of consent and sufferance in this

1.Lo. I cannot heare of any that did see her, The Ladies her
attendants of her chamber

Saw her a bed, and in the morning early,

They found the bed vntreasur'd of their Mistris

2.Lor. My Lord, the roynish Clown, at whom so oft, Your Grace was
wont to laugh is also missing, Hisperia the Princesse Gentlewoman

Confesses that she secretly ore-heard

Your daughter and her Cosen much commend

The parts and graces of the Wrastler

That did but lately foile the synowie Charles, And she beleeues where
euer they are gone That youth is surely in their companie

Duk. Send to his brother, fetch that gallant hither, If he be
absent, bring his Brother to me, Ile make him finde him: do this
sodainly; And let not search and inquisition quaile, To bring againe
these foolish runawaies.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

Orl. Who's there?

Ad. What my yong Master, oh my gentle master, Oh my sweet master, O
you memorie

Of old Sir Rowland; why, what make you here? Why are you vertuous? Why
do people loue you? And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?
Why would you be so fond to ouercome

The bonnie priser of the humorous Duke?

Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. Know you not Master,
to seeme kinde of men, Their graces serue them but as enemies,

No more doe yours: your vertues gentle Master Are sanctified and holy
traitors to you:

Oh what a world is this, when what is comely Enuenoms him that beares
it?

Why, what's the matter?

Ad. O vnhappie youth,

Come not within these doores: within this roofe The enemie of all your
graces liues

Your brother, no, no brother, yet the sonne (Yet not the son, I will
not call him son) Of him I was about to call his Father,

Hath heard your praises, and this night he meanes, To burne the lodging
where you vse to lye, And you within it: if he faile of that

He will haue other meanes to cut you off; I ouerheard him: and his
practises:

This is no place, this house is but a butcherie; Abhorre it, feare it,
doe not enter it

Ad. Why whether Adam would'st thou haue me go?   Ad. No matter
whether, so you come not here

Orl. What, would'st thou haue me go & beg my food, Or with a base
and boistrous Sword enforce A theeuish liuing on the common rode?

This I must do, or know not what to do:

Yet this I will not do, do how I can,

I rather will subiect me to the malice

Of a diuerted blood, and bloudie brother

Ad. But do not so: I haue fiue hundred Crownes, The thriftie hire I
saued vnder your Father, Which I did store to be my foster Nurse,

When seruice should in my old limbs lie lame, And vnregarded age in
corners throwne,

Take that, and he that doth the Rauens feede, Yea prouidently caters
for the Sparrow,

Be comfort to my age: here is the gold,

All this I giue you, let me be your seruant, Though I looke old, yet I
am strong and lustie; For in my youth I neuer did apply

Hot, and rebellious liquors in my bloud,

Nor did not with vnbashfull forehead woe, The meanes of weaknesse and
debilitie,

Therefore my age is as a lustie winter,

Frostie, but kindely; let me goe with you, Ile doe the seruice of a
yonger man

In all your businesse and necessities

Orl. Oh good old man, how well in thee appeares The constant seruice
of the antique world, When seruice sweate for dutie, not for meede:
Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweate,
but for promotion, And hauing that do choake their seruice vp, Euen
with the hauing, it is not so with thee: But poore old man, thou
prun'st a rotten tree, That cannot so much as a blossome yeelde, In
lieu of all thy paines and husbandrie, But come thy waies, weele goe
along together, And ere we haue thy youthfull wages spent, Weele light
vpon some setled low content

Ad. Master goe on, and I will follow thee To the last gaspe with
truth and loyaltie, From seauentie yeeres, till now almost fourescore
Here liued I, but now liue here no more

At seauenteene yeeres, many their fortunes seeke But at fourescore, it
is too late a weeke, Yet fortune cannot recompence me better

Then to die well, and not my Masters debter.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Rosaline for Ganimed, Celia for Aliena, and Clowne, alias
Touchstone.

Ros. O Iupiter, how merry are my spirits?   Clo. I care not for my
spirits, if my legges were not wearie

Ros. I could finde in my heart to disgrace my mans apparell, and to
cry like a woman: but I must comfort the weaker vessell, as doublet and
hose ought to show it selfe coragious to petty-coate; therefore
courage, good Aliena

Cel. I pray you beare with me, I cannot goe no further

Clo. For my part, I had rather beare with you, then beare you: yet I
should beare no crosse if I did beare you, for I thinke you haue no
money in your purse

Ros. Well, this is the Forrest of Arden

Clo. I, now am I in Arden, the more foole I, when I was at home I
was in a better place, but Trauellers must be content.

Enter Corin and Siluius.

Ros. I, be so good Touchstone: Look you, who comes here, a yong man
and an old in solemne talke

Cor. That is the way to make her scorne you still

Sil. Oh Corin, that thou knew'st how I do loue her

Cor. I partly guesse: for I haue lou'd ere now

Sil. No Corin, being old, thou canst not guesse, Though in thy youth
thou wast as true a louer As euer sigh'd vpon a midnight pillow:

But if thy loue were euer like to mine,

As sure I thinke did neuer man loue so:

How many actions most ridiculous,

Hast thou beene drawne to by thy fantasie?   Cor. Into a thousand that
I haue forgotten

Sil. Oh thou didst then neuer loue so hartily, If thou remembrest
not the slightest folly, That euer loue did make thee run into,

Thou hast not lou'd.

Or if thou hast not sat as I doe now,

Wearing thy hearer in thy Mistris praise, Thou hast not lou'd.

Or if thou hast not broke from companie,

Abruptly as my passion now makes me,

Thou hast not lou'd.

O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe.

Enter.

Ros. Alas poore Shepheard searching of they would, I haue by hard
aduenture found mine owne

Clo. And I mine: I remember when I was in loue, I broke my sword
vpon a stone, and bid him take that for comming a night to Iane Smile,
and I remember the kissing of her batler, and the Cowes dugs that her
prettie chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing of a peascod
instead of her, from whom I tooke two cods, and giuing her them againe,
said with weeping teares, weare these for my sake: wee that are true
Louers, runne into strange capers; but as all is mortall in nature, so
is all nature in loue, mortall in folly

Ros. Thou speak'st wiser then thou art ware of

Clo. Nay, I shall nere be ware of mine owne wit, till I breake my
shins against it

Ros. Ioue, Ioue, this Shepherds passion, Is much vpon my fashion

Clo. And mine, but it growes something stale with mee

Cel. I pray you, one of you question yon'd man, If he for gold will
giue vs any foode,

I faint almost to death

Clo. Holla; you Clowne

Ros. Peace foole, he's not thy kinsman

Cor. Who cals?

Clo. Your betters Sir

Cor. Else are they very wretched

Ros. Peace I say; good euen to your friend

Cor. And to you gentle Sir, and to you all

Ros. I prethee Shepheard, if that loue or gold Can in this desert
place buy entertainment, Bring vs where we may rest our selues, and
feed: Here's a yong maid with trauaile much oppressed, And faints for
succour

Cor. Faire Sir, I pittie her,

And wish for her sake more then for mine owne, My fortunes were more
able to releeue her: But I am shepheard to another man,

And do not sheere the Fleeces that I graze: My master is of churlish
disposition,

And little wreakes to finde the way to heauen By doing deeds of
hospitalitie.

Besides his Coate, his Flockes, and bounds of feede Are now on sale,
and at our sheep-coat now By reason of his absence there is nothing
That you will feed on: but what is, come see, And in my voice most
welcome shall you be

Ros. What is he that shall buy his flocke and pasture?   Cor. That
yong Swaine that you saw heere but erewhile, That little cares for
buying any thing

Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honestie, Buy thou the Cottage,
pasture, and the flocke, And thou shalt haue to pay for it of vs

Cel. And we will mend thy wages:

I like this place, and willingly could

Waste my time in it

Cor. Assuredly the thing is to be sold: Go with me, if you like vpon
report,

The soile, the profit, and this kinde of life, I will your very
faithfull Feeder be,

And buy it with your Gold right sodainly.

Exeunt.



Scena Quinta.

Enter, Amyens, Iaques, & others.

Song.

Vnder the greene wood tree,

who loues to lye with mee,

And turne his merrie Note,

vnto the sweet Birds throte:

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Heere shall he see no enemie,

But Winter and rough Weather

Iaq. More, more, I pre'thee more

Amy. It will make you melancholly Monsieur Iaques   Iaq. I thanke
it: More, I prethee more, I can sucke melancholly out of a song,

As a Weazel suckes egges: More, I pre'thee more

Amy. My voice is ragged, I know I cannot please you

Iaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you to sing:

Come, more, another stanzo: Cal you 'em stanzo's?   Amy. What you wil
Monsieur Iaques

Iaq. Nay, I care not for their names, they owe mee nothing. Wil you
sing?

Amy. More at your request, then to please my selfe

Iaq. Well then, if euer I thanke any man, Ile thanke you: but that
they cal complement is like th' encounter of two dog-Apes. And when a
man thankes me hartily, me thinkes I haue giuen him a penie, and he
renders me the beggerly thankes. Come sing; and you that wil not hold
your tongues

Amy. Wel, Ile end the song. Sirs, couer the while, the Duke wil
drinke vnder this tree; he hath bin all this day to looke you

Iaq. And I haue bin all this day to auoid him: He is too disputeable
for my companie:

I thinke of as many matters as he, but I giue Heauen thankes, and make
no boast of them. Come, warble, come.

Song. Altogether heere.

Who doth ambition shunne,

and loues to liue i'th Sunne:

Seeking the food he eates,

and pleas'd with what he gets:

Come hither, come hither, come hither,

Heere shall he see. &c

Iaq. Ile giue you a verse to this note, That I made yesterday in
despight of my Inuention

Amy. And Ile sing it

Amy. Thus it goes.

If it do come to passe, that any man turne Asse: Leauing his wealth and
ease,

A stubborne will to please,

Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame:

Heere shall he see, grosse fooles as he,

And if he will come to me

Amy. What's that Ducdame?

Iaq. 'Tis a Greeke inuocation, to call fools into a circle. Ile go
sleepe if I can: if I cannot, Ile raile against all the first borne of
Egypt

Amy. And Ile go seeke the Duke,

His banket is prepar'd.

Exeunt.

Scena Sexta.

Enter Orlando, & Adam

Adam. Deere Master, I can go no further: O I die for food. Heere lie
I downe,

And measure out my graue. Farwel kinde master

Orl. Why how now Adam? No greater heart in thee: Liue a little,
comfort a little, cheere thy selfe a little. If this vncouth Forrest
yeeld any thing sauage, I wil either be food for it, or bring it for
foode to thee: Thy conceite is neerer death, then thy powers. For my
sake be comfortable, hold death a while At the armes end: I wil heere
be with thee presently, And if I bring thee not something to eate, I
wil giue thee leaue to die: but if thou diest Before I come, thou art a
mocker of my labor. Wel said, thou look'st cheerely,

And Ile be with thee quickly: yet thou liest In the bleake aire. Come,
I wil beare thee To some shelter, and thou shalt not die

For lacke of a dinner,

If there liue any thing in this Desert.

Cheerely good Adam.

Exeunt.

Scena Septima.

Enter Duke Sen. & Lord, like Out-lawes.

Du.Sen. I thinke he be transform'd into a beast, For I can no where
finde him, like a man

1.Lord. My Lord, he is but euen now gone hence, Heere was he merry,
hearing of a Song

Du.Sen. If he compact of iarres, grow Musicall, We shall haue
shortly discord in the Spheares: Go seeke him, tell him I would speake
with him. Enter Iaques.

1.Lord. He saues my labor by his owne approach

Du.Sen. Why how now Monsieur, what a life is this That your poore
friends must woe your companie, What, you looke merrily

Iaq. A Foole, a foole: I met a foole i'th Forrest, A motley Foole (a
miserable world:)

As I do liue by foode, I met a foole,

Who laid him downe, and bask'd him in the Sun, And rail'd on Lady
Fortune in good termes, In good set termes, and yet a motley foole.
Good morrow foole (quoth I:) no Sir, quoth he, Call me not foole, till
heauen hath sent me fortune, And then he drew a diall from his poake,

And looking on it, with lacke-lustre eye, Sayes, very wisely, it is ten
a clocke:

Thus we may see (quoth he) how the world wagges: 'Tis but an houre
agoe, since it was nine, And after one houre more, 'twill be eleuen,
And so from houre to houre, we ripe, and ripe, And then from houre to
houre, we rot, and rot, And thereby hangs a tale. When I did heare The
motley Foole, thus morall on the time, My Lungs began to crow like
Chanticleere, That Fooles should be so deepe contemplatiue: And I did
laugh, sans intermission

An houre by his diall. Oh noble foole,

A worthy foole: Motley's the onely weare

Du.Sen. What foole is this?

Iaq. O worthie Foole: One that hath bin a Courtier And sayes, if
Ladies be but yong, and faire, They haue the gift to know it: and in
his braine, Which is as drie as the remainder bisket

After a voyage: He hath strange places cram'd With obseruation, the
which he vents

In mangled formes. O that I were a foole, I am ambitious for a motley
coat

Du.Sen. Thou shalt haue one

Iaq. It is my onely suite,

Prouided that you weed your better iudgements Of all opinion that
growes ranke in them, That I am wise. I must haue liberty

Withall, as large a Charter as the winde, To blow on whom I please, for
so fooles haue: And they that are most gauled with my folly, They most
must laugh: And why sir must they so? The why is plaine, as way to
Parish Church: Hee, that a Foole doth very wisely hit,

Doth very foolishly, although he smart

Seeme senselesse of the bob. If not,

The Wise-mans folly is anathomiz'd

Euen by the squandring glances of the foole. Inuest me in my motley:
Giue me leaue

To speake my minde, and I will through and through Cleanse the foule
bodie of th' infected world, If they will patiently receiue my
medicine

Du.Sen. Fie on thee. I can tell what thou wouldst do

Iaq. What, for a Counter, would I do, but good?   Du.Sen. Most
mischeeuous foule sin, in chiding sin: For thou thy selfe hast bene a
Libertine, As sensuall as the brutish sting it selfe, And all th'
imbossed sores, and headed euils, That thou with license of free foot
hast caught, Would'st thou disgorge into the generall world

Iaq. Why who cries out on pride,

That can therein taxe any priuate party:

Doth it not flow as hugely as the Sea,

Till that the wearie verie meanes do ebbe. What woman in the Citie do I
name,

When that I say the City woman beares

The cost of Princes on vnworthy shoulders? Who can come in, and say
that I meane her, When such a one as shee, such is her neighbor? Or
what is he of basest function,

That sayes his brauerie is not on my cost, Thinking that I meane him,
but therein suites His folly to the mettle of my speech,

There then, how then, what then, let me see wherein My tongue hath
wrong'd him: if it do him right, Then he hath wrong'd himselfe: if he
be free, Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies Vnclaim'd of any
man. But who come here?

Enter Orlando.

Orl. Forbeare, and eate no more

Iaq. Why I haue eate none yet

Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be seru'd

Iaq. Of what kinde should this Cocke come of?   Du.Sen. Art thou
thus bolden'd man by thy distres? Or else a rude despiser of good
manners,

That in ciuility thou seem'st so emptie?

Orl. You touch'd my veine at first, the thorny point Of bare
distresse, hath tane from me the shew Of smooth ciuility: yet am I
in-land bred, And know some nourture: But forbeare, I say, He dies that
touches any of this fruite,

Till I, and my affaires are answered

Iaq. And you will not be answer'd with reason, I must dye

Du.Sen. What would you haue?

Your gentlenesse shall force, more then your force Moue vs to
gentlenesse

Orl. I almost die for food, and let me haue it

Du.Sen. Sit downe and feed, & welcom to our table   Orl. Speake you
so gently? Pardon me I pray you, I thought that all things had bin
sauage heere, And therefore put I on the countenance

Of sterne command'ment. But what ere you are That in this desert
inaccessible,

Vnder the shade of melancholly boughes,

Loose, and neglect the creeping houres of time: If euer you haue look'd
on better dayes:

If euer beene where bels haue knoll'd to Church: If euer sate at any
good mans feast:

If euer from your eye-lids wip'd a teare, And know what 'tis to pittie,
and be pittied: Let gentlenesse my strong enforcement be, In the which
hope, I blush, and hide my Sword

Du.Sen. True is it, that we haue seene better dayes, And haue with
holy bell bin knowld to Church, And sat at good mens feasts, and wip'd
our eies Of drops, that sacred pity hath engendred: And therefore sit
you downe in gentlenesse, And take vpon command, what helpe we haue
That to your wanting may be ministred

Orl. Then but forbeare your food a little while: Whiles (like a Doe)
I go to finde my Fawne, And giue it food. There is an old poore man,
Who after me, hath many a weary steppe

Limpt in pure loue: till he be first suffic'd, Opprest with two weake
euils, age, and hunger, I will not touch a bit

Duke Sen. Go finde him out,

And we will nothing waste till you returne

Orl. I thanke ye, and be blest for your good comfort

Du.Sen. Thou seest, we are not all alone vnhappie: This wide and
vniuersall Theater

Presents more wofull Pageants then the Sceane Wherein we play in

Ia. All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women, meerely Players; They haue their Exits and
their Entrances, And one man in his time playes many parts, His Acts
being seuen ages. At first the Infant, Mewling, and puking in the
Nurses armes:

Then, the whining Schoole-boy with his Satchell And shining morning
face, creeping like snaile Vnwillingly to schoole. And then the Louer,
Sighing like Furnace, with a wofull ballad Made to his Mistresse
eye-brow. Then, a Soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the
Pard, Ielous in honor, sodaine, and quicke in quarrell, Seeking the
bubble Reputation

Euen in the Canons mouth: And then, the Iustice In faire round belly,
with good Capon lin'd, With eyes seuere, and beard of formall cut, Full
of wise sawes, and moderne instances, And so he playes his part. The
sixt age shifts Into the leane and slipper'd Pantaloone,

With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side, His youthfull hose well
sau'd, a world too wide, For his shrunke shanke, and his bigge manly
voice, Turning againe toward childish trebble pipes, And whistles in
his sound. Last Scene of all, That ends this strange euentfull
historie, Is second childishnesse, and meere obliuion, Sans teeth, sans
eyes, sans taste, sans euery thing. Enter Orlando with Adam.

Du.Sen. Welcome: set downe your venerable burthen, and let him feede

Orl. I thanke you most for him

Ad. So had you neede,

I scarce can speake to thanke you for my selfe

Du.Sen. Welcome, fall too: I wil not trouble you, As yet to question
you about your fortunes: Giue vs some Musicke, and good Cozen, sing.

Song.

Blow, blow, thou winter winde,

Thou art not so vnkinde, as mans ingratitude Thy tooth is not so keene,
because thou art not seene, although thy breath be rude.

Heigh ho, sing heigh ho, vnto the greene holly, Most frendship, is
fayning; most Louing, meere folly: The heigh ho, the holly,

This Life is most iolly.

Freize, freize, thou bitter skie that dost not bight so nigh as
benefitts forgot:

Though thou the waters warpe, thy sting is not so sharpe, as freind
remembred not.

Heigh ho, sing, &c

Duke Sen. If that you were the good Sir Rowlands son, As you haue
whisper'd faithfully you were, And as mine eye doth his effigies
witnesse, Most truly limn'd, and liuing in your face, Be truly welcome
hither: I am the Duke

That lou'd your Father, the residue of your fortune, Go to my Caue, and
tell mee. Good old man, Thou art right welcome, as thy masters is:
Support him by the arme: giue me your hand, And let me all your
fortunes vnderstand.

Exeunt.



Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Duke, Lords, & Oliuer.

Du. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be: But were I not the
better part made mercie, I should not seeke an absent argument

Of my reuenge, thou present: but looke to it, Finde out thy brother
wheresoere he is,

Seeke him with Candle: bring him dead, or liuing Within this
tweluemonth, or turne thou no more To seeke a liuing in our
Territorie.

Thy Lands and all things that thou dost call thine, Worth seizure, do
we seize into our hands, Till thou canst quit thee by thy brothers
mouth, Of what we thinke against thee

Ol. Oh that your Highnesse knew my heart in this: I neuer lou'd my
brother in my life

Duke. More villaine thou. Well push him out of dores And let my
officers of such a nature

Make an extent vpon his house and Lands:

Do this expediently, and turne him going.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Orlando.

Orl. Hang there my verse, in witnesse of my loue, And thou thrice
crowned Queene of night suruey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale
spheare aboue Thy Huntresse name, that my full life doth sway. O
Rosalind, these Trees shall be my Bookes, And in their barkes my
thoughts Ile charracter, That euerie eye, which in this Forrest lookes,
Shall see thy vertue witnest euery where. Run, run Orlando, carue on
euery Tree,

The faire, the chaste, and vnexpressiue shee.

Exit

Enter Corin & Clowne.

Co. And how like you this shepherds life Mr Touchstone?   Clow.
Truely Shepheard, in respect of it selfe, it is a good life; but in
respect that it is a shepheards life, it is naught. In respect that it
is solitary, I like it verie well: but in respect that it is priuate,
it is a very vild life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth
mee well: but in respect it is not in the Court, it is tedious. As it
is a spare life (looke you) it fits my humor well: but as there is no
more plentie in it, it goes much against my stomacke. Has't any
Philosophie in thee shepheard?

Cor. No more, but that I know the more one sickens, the worse at ease
he is: and that hee that wants money, meanes, and content, is without
three good frends. That the propertie of raine is to wet, and fire to
burne: That good pasture makes fat sheepe: and that a great cause of
the night, is lacke of the Sunne: That hee that hath learned no wit by
Nature, nor Art, may complaine of good breeding, or comes of a very
dull kindred

Clo. Such a one is a naturall Philosopher: Was't euer in Court,
Shepheard?

Cor. No truly

Clo. Then thou art damn'd

Cor. Nay, I hope

Clo. Truly thou art damn'd, like an ill roasted Egge, all on one
side

Cor. For not being at Court? your reason

Clo. Why, if thou neuer was't at Court, thou neuer saw'st good
manners: if thou neuer saw'st good maners, then thy manners must be
wicked, and wickednes is sin, and sinne is damnation: Thou art in a
parlous state shepheard

Cor. Not a whit Touchstone, those that are good maners at the Court,
are as ridiculous in the Countrey, as the behauiour of the Countrie is
most mockeable at the Court. You told me, you salute not at the Court,
but you kisse your hands; that courtesie would be vncleanlie if
Courtiers were shepheards

Clo. Instance, briefly: come, instance

Cor. Why we are still handling our Ewes, and their Fels you know are
greasie

Clo. Why do not your Courtiers hands sweate? and is not the grease
of a Mutton, as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow: A
better instance I say: Come

Cor. Besides, our hands are hard

Clo. Your lips wil feele them the sooner. Shallow agen: a more
sounder instance, come

Cor. And they are often tarr'd ouer, with the surgery of our sheepe:
and would you haue vs kisse Tarre? The Courtiers hands are perfum'd
with Ciuet

Clo. Most shallow man: Thou wormes meate in respect of a good peece
of flesh indeed: learne of the wise and perpend: Ciuet is of a baser
birth then Tarre, the verie vncleanly fluxe of a Cat. Mend the instance
Shepheard

Cor. You haue too Courtly a wit, for me, Ile rest

Clo. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God helpe thee shallow man: God make
incision in thee, thou art raw

Cor. Sir, I am a true Labourer, I earne that I eate: get that I
weare; owe no man hate, enuie no mans happinesse: glad of other mens
good content with my harme: and the greatest of my pride, is to see my
Ewes graze, & my Lambes sucke

Clo. That is another simple sinne in you, to bring the Ewes and the
Rammes together, and to offer to get your liuing, by the copulation of
Cattle, to be bawd to a Belweather, and to betray a shee-Lambe of a
tweluemonth to a crooked-pated olde Cuckoldly Ramme, out of all
reasonable match. If thou bee'st not damn'd for this, the diuell
himselfe will haue no shepherds, I cannot see else how thou shouldst
scape

Cor. Heere comes yong Mr Ganimed, my new Mistrisses Brother.

Enter Rosalind

Ros. From the east to westerne Inde,

no iewel is like Rosalinde,

Hir worth being mounted on the winde,

through all the world beares Rosalinde.

All the pictures fairest Linde,

are but blacke to Rosalinde:

Let no face bee kept in mind,

but the faire of Rosalinde

Clo. Ile rime you so, eight yeares together; dinners, and suppers,
and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right Butter-womens ranke to
Market

Ros. Out Foole

Clo. For a taste.

If a Hart doe lacke a Hinde,

Let him seeke out Rosalinde:

If the Cat will after kinde,

so be sure will Rosalinde:

Wintred garments must be linde,

so must slender Rosalinde:

They that reap must sheafe and binde,

then to cart with Rosalinde.

Sweetest nut, hath sowrest rinde,

such a nut is Rosalinde.

He that sweetest rose will finde,

must finde Loues pricke, & Rosalinde.

This is the verie false gallop of Verses, why doe you infect your selfe
with them?

Ros. Peace you dull foole, I found them on a tree

Clo. Truely the tree yeelds bad fruite

Ros. Ile graffe it with you, and then I shall graffe it with a
Medler: then it will be the earliest fruit i'th country: for you'l be
rotten ere you bee halfe ripe, and that's the right vertue of the
Medler

Clo. You haue said: but whether wisely or no, let the Forrest
iudge.

Enter Celia with a writing.

Ros. Peace, here comes my sister reading, stand aside

Cel. Why should this Desert bee,

for it is vnpeopled? Noe:

Tonges Ile hang on euerie tree,

that shall ciuill sayings shoe.

Some, how briefe the Life of man

runs his erring pilgrimage,

That the stretching of a span,

buckles in his summe of age.

Some of violated vowes,

twixt the soules of friend, and friend:

But vpon the fairest bowes,

or at euerie sentence end;

Will I Rosalinda write,

teaching all that reade, to know

The quintessence of euerie sprite,

heauen would in little show.

Therefore heauen Nature charg'd,

that one bodie should be fill'd

With all Graces wide enlarg'd,

nature presently distill'd

Helens cheeke, but not his heart,

Cleopatra's Maiestie:

Attalanta's better part,

sad Lucrecia's Modestie.

Thus Rosalinde of manie parts,

by Heauenly Synode was deuis'd,

Of manie faces, eyes, and hearts,

to haue the touches deerest pris'd.

Heauen would that shee these gifts should haue, and I to liue and die
her slaue

Ros. O most gentle Iupiter, what tedious homilie of Loue haue you
wearied your parishioners withall, and neuer cri'de, haue patience good
people

Cel. How now backe friends: Shepheard, go off a little: go with him
sirrah

Clo. Come Shepheard, let vs make an honorable retreit, though not
with bagge and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.

Enter.

Cel. Didst thou heare these verses?

Ros. O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some of them had in
them more feete then the Verses would beare

Cel. That's no matter: the feet might beare y verses

Ros. I, but the feet were lame, and could not beare themselues
without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse

Cel. But didst thou heare without wondering, how thy name should be
hang'd and carued vpon these trees?   Ros. I was seuen of the nine
daies out of the wonder, before you came: for looke heere what I found
on a Palme tree; I was neuer so berim'd since Pythagoras time that I
was an Irish Rat, which I can hardly remember

Cel. Tro you, who hath done this?

Ros. Is it a man?

Cel. And a chaine that you once wore about his neck: change you
colour?

Ros. I pre'thee who?

Cel. O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to meete; but
Mountaines may bee remoou'd with Earthquakes, and so encounter

Ros. Nay, but who is it?

Cel. Is it possible?

Ros. Nay, I pre'thee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me
who it is

Cel. O wonderfull, wonderfull, and most wonderfull wonderfull, and
yet againe wonderful, and after that out of all hooping

Ros. Good my complection, dost thou think though I am caparison'd
like a man, I haue a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of
delay more, is a South-sea of discouerie. I pre'thee tell me, who is it
quickely, and speake apace: I would thou couldst stammer, that thou
might'st powre this conceal'd man out of thy mouth, as Wine comes out
of a narrow-mouth'd bottle: either too much at once, or none at all. I
pre'thee take the Corke out of thy mouth, that I may drinke thy
tydings

Cel. So you may put a man in your belly

Ros. Is he of Gods making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a
hat? Or his chin worth a beard?   Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard

Ros. Why God will send more, if the man will bee thankful: let me
stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his
chin

Cel. It is yong Orlando, that tript vp the Wrastlers heeles, and
your heart, both in an instant

Ros. Nay, but the diuell take mocking: speake sadde brow, and true
maid

Cel. I'faith (Coz) tis he

Ros. Orlando?

Cel. Orlando

Ros. Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet & hose? What did
he when thou saw'st him? What sayde he? How look'd he? Wherein went he?
What makes hee heere? Did he aske for me? Where remaines he? How parted
he with thee? And when shalt thou see him againe? Answer me in one
word

Cel. You must borrow me Gargantuas mouth first: 'tis a Word too
great for any mouth of this Ages size, to say I and no, to these
particulars, is more then to answer in a Catechisme

Ros. But doth he know that I am in this Forrest, and in mans
apparrell? Looks he as freshly, as he did the day he Wrastled?

Cel. It is as easie to count Atomies as to resolue the propositions
of a Louer: but take a taste of my finding him, and rellish it with
good obseruance. I found him vnder a tree like a drop'd Acorne

Ros. It may wel be cal'd Ioues tree, when it droppes forth fruite

Cel. Giue me audience, good Madam

Ros. Proceed

Cel. There lay hee stretch'd along like a Wounded knight

Ros. Though it be pittie to see such a sight, it well becomes the
ground

Cel. Cry holla, to the tongue, I prethee: it curuettes vnseasonably.
He was furnish'd like a Hunter

Ros. O ominous, he comes to kill my Hart

Cel. I would sing my song without a burthen, thou bring'st me out of
tune

Ros. Do you not know I am a woman, when I thinke, I must speake:
sweet, say on.

Enter Orlando & Iaques.

Cel. You bring me out. Soft, comes he not heere?   Ros. 'Tis he,
slinke by, and note him

Iaq. I thanke you for your company, but good faith I had as liefe
haue beene my selfe alone

Orl. And so had I: but yet for fashion sake I thanke you too, for
your societie

Iaq. God buy you, let's meet as little as we can

Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers

Iaq. I pray you marre no more trees with Writing Loue-songs in their
barkes

Orl. I pray you marre no moe of my verses with reading them
ill-fauouredly

Iaq. Rosalinde is your loues name?

Orl. Yes, Iust

Iaq. I do not like her name

Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christen'd

Iaq. What stature is she of?

Orl. Iust as high as my heart

Iaq. You are ful of prety answers: haue you not bin acquainted with
goldsmiths wiues, & cond the[m] out of rings   Orl. Not so: but I
answer you right painted cloath, from whence you haue studied your
questions

Iaq. You haue a nimble wit; I thinke 'twas made of Attalanta's
heeles. Will you sitte downe with me, and wee two, will raile against
our Mistris the world, and all our miserie

Orl. I wil chide no breather in the world but my selfe against whom
I know most faults

Iaq. The worst fault you haue, is to be in loue

Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change, for your best vertue: I am
wearie of you

Iaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a Foole, when I found you

Orl. He is drown'd in the brooke, looke but in, and you shall see
him

Iaq. There I shal see mine owne figure

Orl. Which I take to be either a foole, or a Cipher

Iaq. Ile tarrie no longer with you, farewell good signior Loue

Orl. I am glad of your departure: Adieu good Monsieur Melancholly

Ros. I wil speake to him like a sawcie Lacky, and vnder that habit
play the knaue with him, do you hear Forrester

Orl. Verie wel, what would you?

Ros. I pray you, what i'st a clocke?

Orl. You should aske me what time o' day: there's no clocke in the
Forrest

Ros. Then there is no true Louer in the Forrest, else sighing euerie
minute, and groaning euerie houre wold detect the lazie foot of time,
as wel as a clocke

Orl. And why not the swift foote of time? Had not that bin as
proper?

Ros. By no meanes sir; Time trauels in diuers paces, with diuers
persons: Ile tel you who Time ambles withall, who Time trots withal,
who Time gallops withal, and who he stands stil withall

Orl. I prethee, who doth he trot withal?   Ros. Marry he trots hard
with a yong maid, between the contract of her marriage, and the day it
is solemnizd: if the interim be but a sennight, Times pace is so hard,
that it seemes the length of seuen yeare

Orl. Who ambles Time withal?

Ros. With a Priest that lacks Latine, and a rich man that hath not
the Gowt: for the one sleepes easily because he cannot study, and the
other liues merrily, because he feeles no paine: the one lacking the
burthen of leane and wasteful Learning; the other knowing no burthen of
heauie tedious penurie. These Time ambles withal

Orl. Who doth he gallop withal?

Ros. With a theefe to the gallowes: for though hee go as softly as
foot can fall, he thinkes himselfe too soon there

Orl. Who staies it stil withal?

Ros. With Lawiers in the vacation: for they sleepe betweene Terme and
Terme, and then they perceiue not how time moues

Orl. Where dwel you prettie youth?

Ros. With this Shepheardesse my sister: heere in the skirts of the
Forrest, like fringe vpon a petticoat

Orl. Are you natiue of this place?

Ros. As the Conie that you see dwell where shee is kindled

Orl. Your accent is something finer, then you could purchase in so
remoued a dwelling

Ros. I haue bin told so of many: but indeed, an olde religious
Vnckle of mine taught me to speake, who was in his youth an inland man,
one that knew Courtship too well: for there he fel in loue. I haue
heard him read many Lectors against it, and I thanke God, I am not a
Woman to be touch'd with so many giddie offences as hee hath generally
tax'd their whole sex withal

Orl. Can you remember any of the principall euils, that he laid to
the charge of women?

Ros. There were none principal, they were all like one another, as
halfepence are, euerie one fault seeming monstrous, til his
fellow-fault came to match it

Orl. I prethee recount some of them

Ros. No: I wil not cast away my physick, but on those that are
sicke. There is a man haunts the Forrest, that abuses our yong plants
with caruing Rosalinde on their barkes; hangs Oades vpon Hauthornes,
and Elegies on brambles; all (forsooth) defying the name of Rosalinde.
If I could meet that Fancie-monger, I would giue him some good counsel,
for he seemes to haue the Quotidian of Loue vpon him

Orl. I am he that is so Loue-shak'd, I pray you tel me your remedie

Ros. There is none of my Vnckles markes vpon you: he taught me how
to know a man in loue: in which cage of rushes, I am sure you art not
prisoner

Orl. What were his markes?

Ros. A leane cheeke, which you haue not: a blew eie and sunken, which
you haue not: an vnquestionable spirit, which you haue not: a beard
neglected, which you haue not: (but I pardon you for that, for simply
your hauing in beard, is a yonger brothers reuennew) then your hose
should be vngarter'd, your bonnet vnbanded, your sleeue vnbutton'd,
your shoo vnti'de, and euerie thing about you, demonstrating a
carelesse desolation: but you are no such man; you are rather point
deuice in your accoustrements,

as louing your selfe, then seeming the Louer of any other

Orl. Faire youth, I would I could make thee beleeue I Loue

Ros. Me beleeue it? You may assoone make her that you Loue beleeue
it, which I warrant she is apter to do, then to confesse she do's: that
is one of the points, in the which women stil giue the lie to their
consciences. But in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the
Trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired?

Orl. I sweare to thee youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that
he, that vnfortunate he

Ros. But are you so much in loue, as your rimes speak?   Orl.
Neither rime nor reason can expresse how much

Ros. Loue is meerely a madnesse, and I tel you, deserues as wel a
darke house, and a whip, as madmen do: and the reason why they are not
so punish'd and cured, is that the Lunacie is so ordinarie, that the
whippers are in loue too: yet I professe curing it by counsel

Orl. Did you euer cure any so?

Ros. Yes one, and in this manner. Hee was to imagine me his Loue, his
Mistris: and I set him euerie day to woe me. At which time would I,
being but a moonish youth, greeue, be effeminate, changeable, longing,
and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, ful of
teares, full of smiles; for euerie passion something, and for no
passion truly any thing, as boyes and women are for the most part,
cattle of this colour: would now like him, now loath him: then
entertaine him, then forswear him: now weepe for him, then spit at him;
that I draue my Sutor from his mad humor of loue, to a liuing humor of
madnes, w was to forsweare the ful stream of y world, and to liue in a
nooke meerly Monastick: and thus I cur'd him, and this way wil I take
vpon mee to wash your Liuer as cleane as a sound sheepes heart, that
there shal not be one spot of Loue in't

Orl. I would not be cured, youth

Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and come
euerie day to my Coat, and woe me

Orlan. Now by the faith of my loue, I will; Tel me where it is

Ros. Go with me to it, and Ile shew it you: and by the way, you shal
tell me, where in the Forrest you liue: Wil you go?

Orl. With all my heart, good youth

Ros. Nay, you must call mee Rosalind: Come sister, will you go?

Exeunt.



Scoena Tertia.

Enter Clowne, Audrey, & Iaques.

Clo. Come apace good Audrey, I wil fetch vp your Goates, Audrey: and
how Audrey am I the man yet? Doth my simple feature content you?

Aud. Your features, Lord warrant vs: what features?   Clo. I am heere
with thee, and thy Goats, as the most capricious Poet honest Ouid was
among the Gothes

Iaq. O knowledge ill inhabited, worse then Ioue in a thatch'd house

Clo. When a mans verses cannot be vnderstood, nor a mans good wit
seconded with the forward childe, vnderstanding: it strikes a man more
dead then a great reckoning in a little roome: truly, I would the Gods
hadde made thee poeticall

Aud. I do not know what Poetical is: is it honest in deed and word:
is it a true thing?

Clo. No trulie: for the truest poetrie is the most faining, and
Louers are giuen to Poetrie: and what they sweare in Poetrie, may be
said as Louers, they do feigne

Aud. Do you wish then that the Gods had made me Poeticall?

Clow. I do truly: for thou swear'st to me thou art honest: Now if
thou wert a Poet, I might haue some hope thou didst feigne

Aud. Would you not haue me honest?

Clo. No truly, vnlesse thou wert hard fauour'd: for honestie coupled
to beautie, is to haue Honie a sawce to Sugar

Iaq. A materiall foole

Aud. Well, I am not faire, and therefore I pray the Gods make me
honest

Clo. Truly, and to cast away honestie vppon a foule slut, were to
put good meate into an vncleane dish

Aud. I am not a slut, though I thanke the Goddes I am foule

Clo. Well, praised be the Gods, for thy foulnesse; sluttishnesse may
come heereafter. But be it, as it may bee, I wil marrie thee: and to
that end, I haue bin with Sir Oliuer Mar-text, the Vicar of the next
village, who hath promis'd to meete me in this place of the Forrest,
and to couple vs

Iaq. I would faine see this meeting

Aud. Wel, the Gods giue vs ioy

Clo. Amen. A man may if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this
attempt: for heere wee haue no Temple but the wood, no assembly but
horne-beasts. But what though? Courage. As hornes are odious, they are
necessarie. It is said, many a man knowes no end of his goods; right:
Many a man has good Hornes, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the
dowrie of his wife, 'tis none of his owne getting; hornes, euen so
poore men alone: No, no, the noblest Deere hath them as huge as the
Rascall: Is the single man therefore blessed? No, as a wall'd Towne is
more worthier then a village, so is the forehead of a married man, more
honourable then the bare brow of a Batcheller: and by how much defence
is better then no skill, by so much is a horne more precious then to
want.

Enter Sir Oliuer Mar-text.

Heere comes Sir Oliuer: Sir Oliuer Mar-text you are wel met. Will you
dispatch vs heere vnder this tree, or shal we go with you to your
Chappell?

Ol. Is there none heere to giue the woman?   Clo. I wil not take her
on guift of any man

Ol. Truly she must be giuen, or the marriage is not lawfull

Iaq. Proceed, proceede: Ile giue her

Clo. Good euen good Mr what ye cal't: how do you Sir, you are verie
well met: goddild you for your last companie, I am verie glad to see
you, euen a toy in hand heere Sir: Nay, pray be couer'd

Iaq. Wil you be married, Motley?

Clo. As the Oxe hath his bow sir, the horse his curb, and the Falcon
her bels, so man hath his desires, and as Pigeons bill, so wedlocke
would be nibling

Iaq. And wil you (being a man of your breeding) be married vnder a
bush like a begger? Get you to church, and haue a good Priest that can
tel you what marriage is, this fellow wil but ioyne you together, as
they ioyne Wainscot, then one of you wil proue a shrunke pannell, and
like greene timber, warpe, warpe

Clo. I am not in the minde, but I were better to bee married of him
then of another, for he is not like to marrie me wel: and not being wel
married, it wil be a good excuse for me heereafter, to leaue my wife

Iaq. Goe thou with mee,

And let me counsel thee

Ol. Come sweete Audrey,

We must be married, or we must liue in baudrey: Farewel good Mr Oliuer:
Not O sweet Oliuer, O braue Oliuer leaue me not behind thee: But winde
away, bee gone I say, I wil not to wedding with thee

Ol. 'Tis no matter; Ne're a fantastical knaue of them all shal flout
me out of my calling.

Exeunt.

Scoena Quarta.

Enter Rosalind & Celia.

Ros. Neuer talke to me, I wil weepe

Cel. Do I prethee, but yet haue the grace to consider, that teares
do not become a man

Ros. But haue I not cause to weepe?

Cel. As good cause as one would desire, Therefore weepe

Ros. His very haire

Is of the dissembling colour

Cel. Something browner then Iudasses:

Marrie his kisses are Iudasses owne children

Ros. I'faith his haire is of a good colour

Cel. An excellent colour:

Your Chessenut was euer the onely colour:   Ros. And his kissing is as
ful of sanctitie, As the touch of holy bread

Cel. Hee hath bought a paire of cast lips of Diana: a Nun of winters
sisterhood kisses not more religiouslie, the very yce of chastity is in
them

Rosa. But why did hee sweare hee would come this morning, and comes
not?

Cel. Nay certainly there is no truth in him

Ros. Doe you thinke so?

Cel. Yes, I thinke he is not a picke purse, nor a horse-stealer, but
for his verity in loue, I doe thinke him as concaue as a couered
goblet, or a Worme-eaten nut

Ros. Not true in loue?

Cel. Yes, when he is in, but I thinke he is not in

Ros. You haue heard him sweare downright he was

Cel. Was, is not is: besides, the oath of Louer is no stronger then
the word of a Tapster, they are both the confirmer of false reckonings,
he attends here in the forrest on the Duke your father

Ros. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him: he
askt me of what parentage I was; I told him of as good as he, so he
laugh'd and let mee goe. But what talke wee of Fathers, when there is
such a man as Orlando?

Cel. O that's a braue man, hee writes braue verses, speakes braue
words, sweares braue oathes, and breakes them brauely, quite trauers
athwart the heart of his louer, as a puisny Tilter, y spurs his horse
but on one side, breakes his staffe like a noble goose; but all's braue
that youth mounts, and folly guides: who comes heere? Enter Corin.

Corin. Mistresse and Master, you haue oft enquired After the
Shepheard that complain'd of loue, Who you saw sitting by me on the
Turph,

Praising the proud disdainfull Shepherdesse That was his Mistresse

Cel. Well: and what of him?

Cor. If you will see a pageant truely plaid Betweene the pale
complexion of true Loue, And the red glowe of scorne and prowd
disdaine, Goe hence a little, and I shall conduct you If you will marke
it

Ros. O come, let vs remoue,

The sight of Louers feedeth those in loue: Bring vs to this sight, and
you shall say Ile proue a busie actor in their play.

Exeunt.



Scena Quinta.



Enter Siluius and Phebe.

Sil. Sweet Phebe doe not scorne me, do not Phebe Say that you loue me
not, but say not so

In bitternesse; the common executioner

Whose heart th' accustom'd sight of death makes hard Falls not the axe
vpon the humbled neck,

But first begs pardon: will you sterner be Then he that dies and liues
by bloody drops? Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin.

Phe. I would not be thy executioner,

I flye thee, for I would not iniure thee: Thou tellst me there is
murder in mine eye, 'Tis pretty sure, and very probable,

That eyes that are the frailst, and softest things, Who shut their
coward gates on atomyes,

Should be called tyrants, butchers, murtherers. Now I doe frowne on
thee with all my heart, And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill
thee: Now counterfeit to swound, why now fall downe, Or if thou canst
not, oh for shame, for shame, Lye not, to say mine eyes are murtherers:
Now shew the wound mine eye hath made in thee, Scratch thee but with a
pin, and there remaines Some scarre of it: Leane vpon a rush

The Cicatrice and capable impressure

Thy palme some moment keepes: but now mine eyes Which I haue darted at
thee, hurt thee not, Nor I am sure there is no force in eyes

That can doe hurt

Sil. O deere Phebe,

If euer (as that euer may be neere)

You meet in some fresh cheeke the power of fancie, Then shall you know
the wounds inuisible

That Loues keene arrows make

Phe. But till that time

Come not thou neere me: and when that time comes, Afflict me with thy
mockes, pitty me not, As till that time I shall not pitty thee

Ros. And why I pray you? who might be your mother That you insult,
exult, and all at once

Ouer the wretched? what though you haue no beauty As by my faith, I see
no more in you

Then without Candle may goe darke to bed: Must you be therefore prowd
and pittilesse? Why what meanes this? why do you looke on me? I see no
more in you then in the ordinary Of Natures sale-worke? 'ods my little
life, I thinke she meanes to tangle my eies too: No faith proud
Mistresse, hope not after it, 'Tis not your inkie browes, your blacke
silke haire, Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheeke of creame That can
entame my spirits to your worship: You foolish Shepheard, wherefore do
you follow her Like foggy South, puffing with winde and raine, You are
a thousand times a properer man

Then she a woman. 'Tis such fooles as you That makes the world full of
ill-fauourd children: 'Tis not her glasse, but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees her selfe more proper Then any of her
lineaments can show her:

But Mistris, know your selfe, downe on your knees And thanke heauen,
fasting, for a good mans loue; For I must tell you friendly in your
eare, Sell when you can, you are not for all markets: Cry the man
mercy, loue him, take his offer, Foule is most foule, being foule to be
a scoffer. So take her to thee Shepheard, fareyouwell

Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a yere together, I had rather
here you chide, then this man wooe

Ros. Hees falne in loue with your foulnesse, & shee'll Fall in loue
with my anger. If it be so, as fast As she answeres thee with frowning
lookes, ile sauce Her with bitter words: why looke you so vpon me? Phe.
For no ill will I beare you

Ros. I pray you do not fall in loue with mee, For I am falser then
vowes made in wine:

Besides, I like you not: if you will know my house, 'Tis at the tufft
of Oliues, here hard by: Will you goe Sister? Shepheard ply her hard:
Come Sister: Shepheardesse, looke on him better And be not proud,
though all the world could see, None could be so abus'd in sight as
hee.

Come, to our flocke,

Enter.

Phe. Dead Shepheard, now I find thy saw of might, Who euer lov'd,
that lou'd not at first sight?   Sil. Sweet Phebe

Phe. Hah: what saist thou Siluius?

Sil. Sweet Phebe pitty me

Phe. Why I am sorry for thee gentle Siluius

Sil. Where euer sorrow is, reliefe would be: If you doe sorrow at my
griefe in loue,

By giuing loue your sorrow, and my griefe Were both extermin'd

Phe. Thou hast my loue, is not that neighbourly?   Sil. I would haue
you

Phe. Why that were couetousnesse:

Siluius; the time was, that I hated thee; And yet it is not, that I
beare thee loue, But since that thou canst talke of loue so well, Thy
company, which erst was irkesome to me I will endure; and Ile employ
thee too:

But doe not looke for further recompence

Then thine owne gladnesse, that thou art employd

Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my loue, And I in such a pouerty of
grace,

That I shall thinke it a most plenteous crop To gleane the broken eares
after the man

That the maine haruest reapes: loose now and then A scattred smile, and
that Ile liue vpon

Phe. Knowst thou the youth that spoke to mee yerewhile?   Sil. Not
very well, but I haue met him oft, And he hath bought the Cottage and
the bounds That the old Carlot once was Master of

Phe. Thinke not I loue him, though I ask for him, 'Tis but a peeuish
boy, yet he talkes well, But what care I for words? yet words do well
When he that speakes them pleases those that heare: It is a pretty
youth, not very prettie,

But sure hee's proud, and yet his pride becomes him; Hee'll make a
proper man: the best thing in him Is his complexion: and faster then
his tongue Did make offence, his eye did heale it vp: He is not very
tall, yet for his yeeres hee's tall: His leg is but so so, and yet 'tis
well:

There was a pretty rednesse in his lip,

A little riper, and more lustie red

Then that mixt in his cheeke: 'twas iust the difference Betwixt the
constant red, and mingled Damaske. There be some women Siluius, had
they markt him In parcells as I did, would haue gone neere To fall in
loue with him: but for my part I loue him not, nor hate him not: and
yet Haue more cause to hate him then to loue him, For what had he to
doe to chide at me?

He said mine eyes were black, and my haire blacke, And now I am
remembred, scorn'd at me:

I maruell why I answer'd not againe,

But that's all one: omittance is no quittance: Ile write to him a very
tanting Letter,

And thou shalt beare it, wilt thou Siluius?   Sil. Phebe, with all my
heart

Phe. Ile write it strait:

The matter's in my head, and in my heart, I will be bitter with him,
and passing short; Goe with me Siluius.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Rosalind, and Celia, and Iaques.

Iaq. I prethee, pretty youth, let me better acquainted with thee

Ros They say you are a melancholly fellow

Iaq. I am so: I doe loue it better then laughing

Ros. Those that are in extremity of either, are abhominable
fellowes, and betray themselues to euery moderne censure, worse then
drunkards

Iaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing

Ros. Why then 'tis good to be a poste

Iaq. I haue neither the Schollers melancholy, which is emulation:
nor the Musitians, which is fantasticall; nor the Courtiers, which is
proud: nor the Souldiers, which is ambitious: nor the Lawiers, which is
politick: nor the Ladies, which is nice: nor the Louers, which is all
these: but it is a melancholy of mine owne, compounded of many simples,
extracted from many obiects, and indeed the sundrie contemplation of my
trauells, in which by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous
sadnesse

Ros. A Traueller: by my faith you haue great reason to be sad: I
feare you haue sold your owne Lands, to see other mens; then to haue
seene much, and to haue nothing, is to haue rich eyes and poore hands

Iaq. Yes, I haue gain'd my experience. Enter Orlando.

Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I had rather haue a foole to
make me merrie, then experience to make me sad, and to trauaile for it
too

Orl. Good day, and happinesse, deere Rosalind

Iaq. Nay then God buy you, and you talke in blanke verse

Ros. Farewell Mounsieur Trauellor: looke you lispe, and weare
strange suites; disable all the benefits of your owne Countrie: be out
of loue with your natiuitie, and almost chide God for making you that
countenance you are; or I will scarce thinke you haue swam in a
Gundello. Why how now Orlando, where haue you bin all this while? you a
louer? and you serue me such another tricke, neuer come in my sight
more

Orl. My faire Rosalind, I come within an houre of my promise

Ros. Breake an houres promise in loue? hee that will diuide a minute
into a thousand parts, and breake but a part of the thousand part of a
minute in the affairs of loue, it may be said of him that Cupid hath
clapt him oth' shoulder, but Ile warrant him heart hole

Orl. Pardon me deere Rosalind

Ros. Nay, and you be so tardie, come no more in my sight, I had as
liefe be woo'd of a Snaile

Orl. Of a Snaile?

Ros. I, of a Snaile: for though he comes slowly, hee carries his
house on his head; a better ioyncture I thinke then you make a woman:
besides, he brings his destinie with him

Orl. What's that?

Ros. Why hornes: w such as you are faine to be beholding to your
wiues for: but he comes armed in his fortune, and preuents the slander
of his wife

Orl. Vertue is no horne-maker: and my Rosalind is vertuous

Ros. And I am your Rosalind

Cel. It pleases him to call you so: but he hath a Rosalind of a
better leere then you

Ros. Come, wooe me, wooe mee: for now I am in a holy-day humor, and
like enough to consent: What would you say to me now, and I were your
verie, verie Rosalind?

Orl. I would kisse before I spoke

Ros. Nay, you were better speake first, and when you were grauel'd,
for lacke of matter, you might take occasion to kisse: verie good
Orators when they are out, they will spit, and for louers, lacking (God
warne vs) matter, the cleanliest shift is to kisse

Orl. How if the kisse be denide?

Ros. Then she puts you to entreatie, and there begins new matter

Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloued Mistris?

Ros. Marrie that should you if I were your Mistris, or I should
thinke my honestie ranker then my wit

Orl. What, of my suite?

Ros. Not out of your apparrell, and yet out of your suite:

Am not I your Rosalind?

Orl. I take some ioy to say you are, because I would be talking of
her

Ros. Well, in her person, I say I will not haue you

Orl. Then in mine owne person, I die

Ros. No faith, die by Attorney: the poore world is almost six
thousand yeeres old, and in all this time there was not anie man died
in his owne person (videlicet) in a loue cause: Troilous had his
braines dash'd out with a Grecian club, yet he did what hee could to
die before, and he is one of the patternes of loue. Leander, he would
haue liu'd manie a faire yeere though Hero had turn'd Nun; if it had
not bin for a hot Midsomer-night, for (good youth) he went but forth to
wash him in the Hellespont, and being taken with the crampe, was
droun'd, and the foolish Chronoclers of that age, found it was Hero of
Cestos. But these are all lies, men haue died from time to time, and
wormes haue eaten them, but not for loue

Orl. I would not haue my right Rosalind of this mind, for I protest
her frowne might kill me

Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a flie: but come, now I will be
your Rosalind in a more comming-on disposition: and aske me what you
will, I will grant it

Orl. Then loue me Rosalind

Ros. Yes faith will I, fridaies and saterdaies, and all

Orl. And wilt thou haue me?

Ros. I, and twentie such

Orl. What saiest thou?

Ros. Are you not good?

Orl. I hope so

Rosalind. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing: Come
sister, you shall be the Priest, and marrie vs: giue me your hand
Orlando: What doe you say sister?

Orl. Pray thee marrie vs

Cel. I cannot say the words

Ros. You must begin, will you Orlando

Cel. Goe too: wil you Orlando, haue to wife this Rosalind?   Orl. I
will

Ros. I, but when?

Orl. Why now, as fast as she can marrie vs

Ros. Then you must say, I take thee Rosalind for wife

Orl. I take thee Rosalind for wife

Ros. I might aske you for your Commission, But I doe take thee
Orlando for my husband: there's a girle goes before the Priest, and
certainely a Womans thought runs before her actions

Orl. So do all thoughts, they are wing'd

Ros. Now tell me how long you would haue her, after you haue possest
her?

Orl. For euer, and a day

Ros. Say a day, without the euer: no, no Orlando, men are Aprill
when they woe, December when they wed: Maides are May when they are
maides, but the sky changes when they are wiues: I will bee more
iealous of thee, then a Barbary cocke-pidgeon ouer his hen, more
clamorous then a Parrat against raine, more new-fangled then an ape,
more giddy in my desires, then a monkey: I will weepe for nothing, like
Diana in the Fountaine, & I wil do that when you are dispos'd to be
merry: I will laugh like a Hyen, and that when thou art inclin'd to
sleepe

Orl. But will my Rosalind doe so?

Ros. By my life, she will doe as I doe

Orl. O but she is wise

Ros. Or else shee could not haue the wit to doe this: the wiser, the
waywarder: make the doores vpon a womans wit, and it will out at the
casement: shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole: stop that, 'twill
flie with the smoake out at the chimney

Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say, wit
whether wil't?

Ros. Nay, you might keepe that checke for it, till you met your wiues
wit going to your neighbours bed

Orl. And what wit could wit haue, to excuse that?   Rosa. Marry to
say, she came to seeke you there: you shall neuer take her without her
answer, vnlesse you take her without her tongue: o that woman that
cannot make her fault her husbands occasion, let her neuer nurse her
childe her selfe, for she will breed it like a foole

Orl. For these two houres Rosalinde, I wil leaue thee

Ros. Alas, deere loue, I cannot lacke thee two houres

Orl. I must attend the Duke at dinner, by two a clock I will be with
thee againe

Ros. I, goe your waies, goe your waies: I knew what you would proue,
my friends told mee as much, and I thought no lesse: that flattering
tongue of yours wonne me: 'tis but one cast away, and so come death:
two o' clocke is your howre

Orl. I, sweet Rosalind

Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend mee, and by
all pretty oathes that are not dangerous, if you breake one iot of your
promise, or come one minute behinde your houre, I will thinke you the
most patheticall breake-promise, and the most hollow louer, and the
most vnworthy of her you call Rosalinde, that may bee chosen out of the
grosse band of the vnfaithfull: therefore beware my censure, and keep
your promise

Orl. With no lesse religion, then if thou wert indeed my Rosalind:
so adieu

Ros. Well, Time is the olde Iustice that examines all such
offenders, and let time try: adieu.

Enter.

Cel. You haue simply misus'd our sexe in your loue-prate: we must
haue your doublet and hose pluckt ouer your head, and shew the world
what the bird hath done to her owne neast

Ros. O coz, coz, coz: my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how
many fathome deepe I am in loue: but it cannot bee sounded: my
affection hath an vnknowne bottome, like the Bay of Portugall

Cel. Or rather bottomlesse, that as fast as you poure affection in,
it runs out

Ros. No, that same wicked Bastard of Venus, that was begot of
thought, conceiu'd of spleene, and borne of madnesse, that blinde
rascally boy, that abuses euery ones eyes, because his owne are out,
let him bee iudge, how deepe I am in loue: ile tell thee Aliena, I
cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: Ile goe finde a shadow, and sigh
till he come

Cel. And Ile sleepe.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Iaques and Lords, Forresters.

Iaq. Which is he that killed the Deare?   Lord. Sir, it was I

Iaq. Let's present him to the Duke like a Romane Conquerour, and it
would doe well to set the Deares horns vpon his head, for a branch of
victory; haue you no song Forrester for this purpose?

Lord. Yes Sir

Iaq. Sing it: 'tis no matter how it bee in tune, so it make noyse
enough.

Musicke, Song.

What shall he haue that kild the Deare?

His Leather skin, and hornes to weare:

Then sing him home, the rest shall beare this burthen; Take thou no
scorne to weare the horne,

It was a crest ere thou wast borne,

Thy fathers father wore it,

And thy father bore it,

The horne, the horne, the lusty horne,

Is not a thing to laugh to scorne.

Exeunt.



Scoena Tertia.

Enter Rosalind and Celia.

Ros. How say you now, is it not past two a clock? And heere much
Orlando

Cel. I warrant you, with pure loue, & troubled brain, Enter
Siluius.

He hath t'ane his bow and arrowes, and is gone forth To sleepe: looke
who comes heere

Sil. My errand is to you, faire youth, My gentle Phebe, did bid me
giue you this: I know not the contents, but as I guesse

By the sterne brow, and waspish action

Which she did vse, as she was writing of it, It beares an angry tenure;
pardon me,

I am but as a guiltlesse messenger

Ros. Patience her selfe would startle at this letter, And play the
swaggerer, beare this, beare all: Shee saies I am not faire, that I
lacke manners, She calls me proud, and that she could not loue me Were
man as rare as Phenix: 'od's my will, Her loue is not the Hare that I
doe hunt, Why writes she so to me? well Shepheard, well, This is a
Letter of your owne deuice

Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents, Phebe did write it

Ros. Come, come, you are a foole,

And turn'd into the extremity of loue.

I saw her hand, she has a leatherne hand, A freestone coloured hand: I
verily did thinke That her old gloues were on, but twas her hands: She
has a huswiues hand, but that's no matter: I say she neuer did inuent
this letter,

This is a mans inuention, and his hand

Sil. Sure it is hers

Ros. Why, tis a boysterous and a cruell stile, A stile for
challengers: why, she defies me, Like Turke to Christian: womens gentle
braine Could not drop forth such giant rude inuention, Such Ethiop
words, blacker in their effect Then in their countenance: will you
heare the letter?   Sil. So please you, for I neuer heard it yet: Yet
heard too much of Phebes crueltie

Ros. She Phebes me: marke how the tyrant writes.

Read.

Art thou god, to Shepherd turn'd?

That a maidens heart hath burn'd.

Can a woman raile thus?

Sil. Call you this railing?

Ros.

Read.

Why, thy godhead laid a part,

War'st thou with a womans heart?

Did you euer heare such railing?

Whiles the eye of man did wooe me,

That could do no vengeance to me.

Meaning me a beast.

If the scorne of your bright eine

Haue power to raise such loue in mine,

Alacke, in me, what strange effect

Would they worke in milde aspect?

Whiles you chid me, I did loue,

How then might your praiers moue?

He that brings this loue to thee,

Little knowes this Loue in me:

And by him seale vp thy minde,

Whether that thy youth and kinde

Will the faithfull offer take

Of me, and all that I can make,

Or else by him my loue denie,

And then Ile studie how to die

Sil. Call you this chiding?

Cel. Alas poore Shepheard

Ros. Doe you pitty him? No, he deserues no pitty: wilt thou loue
such a woman? what to make thee an instrument, and play false straines
vpon thee? not to be endur'd. Well, goe your way to her; (for I see
Loue hath made thee a tame snake) and say this to her; That if she loue
me, I charge her to loue thee: if she will not, I will neuer haue her,
vnlesse thou intreat for her: if you bee a true louer hence, and not a
word; for here comes more company.

Exit. Sil.

Enter Oliuer.

Oliu. Good morrow, faire ones: pray you, (if you | know) Where in the
Purlews of this Forrest, stands A sheep-coat, fenc'd about with
Oliue-trees

Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbor bottom The ranke of
Oziers, by the murmuring streame Left on your right hand, brings you to
the place: But at this howre, the house doth keepe it selfe, There's
none within

Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, Then should I know you
by description,

Such garments, and such yeeres: the boy is faire, Of femall fauour, and
bestowes himselfe

Like a ripe sister: the woman low

And browner then her brother: are not you The owner of the house I did
enquire for?   Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are

Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both, And to that youth hee
calls his Rosalind, He sends this bloudy napkin; are you he?

Ros. I am: what must we vnderstand by this?   Oli. Some of my shame,
if you will know of me What man I am, and how, and why, and where This
handkercher was stain'd

Cel. I pray you tell it

Oli. When last the yong Orlando parted from you, He left a promise
to returne againe

Within an houre, and pacing through the Forrest, Chewing the food of
sweet and bitter fancie, Loe what befell: he threw his eye aside,

And marke what obiect did present it selfe Vnder an old Oake, whose
bows were moss'd with age And high top, bald with drie antiquitie:

A wretched ragged man, ore-growne with haire Lay sleeping on his back;
about his necke A greene and guilded snake had wreath'd it selfe, Who
with her head, nimble in threats approach'd The opening of his mouth:
but sodainly

Seeing Orlando, it vnlink'd it selfe,

And with indented glides, did slip away

Into a bush, vnder which bushes shade

A Lyonnesse, with vdders all drawne drie, Lay cowching head on ground,
with catlike watch When that the sleeping man should stirre; for 'tis
The royall disposition of that beast

To prey on nothing, that doth seeme as dead: This seene, Orlando did
approach the man, And found it was his brother, his elder brother

Cel. O I haue heard him speake of that same brother, And he did
render him the most vnnaturall That liu'd amongst men

Oli. And well he might so doe,

For well I know he was vnnaturall

Ros. But to Orlando: did he leaue him there Food to the suck'd and
hungry Lyonnesse?

Oli. Twice did he turne his backe, and purpos'd so: But kindnesse,
nobler euer then reuenge,

And Nature stronger then his iust occasion, Made him giue battell to
the Lyonnesse:

Who quickly fell before him, in which hurtling From miserable slumber I
awaked

Cel. Are you his brother?

Ros. Was't you he rescu'd?

Cel. Was't you that did so oft contriue to kill him?   Oli. 'Twas I:
but 'tis not I: I doe not shame To tell you what I was, since my
conuersion So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am

Ros. But for the bloody napkin?

Oli. By and by:

When from the first to last betwixt vs two, Teares our recountments had
most kindely bath'd, As how I came into that Desert place.

In briefe, he led me to the gentle Duke,

Who gaue me fresh aray, and entertainment, Committing me vnto my
brothers loue,

Who led me instantly vnto his Caue,

There stript himselfe, and heere vpon his arme The Lyonnesse had torne
some flesh away,

Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted, And cride in
fainting vpon Rosalinde.

Briefe, I recouer'd him, bound vp his wound, And after some small
space, being strong at heart, He sent me hither, stranger as I am

To tell this story, that you might excuse His broken promise, and to
giue this napkin Died in this bloud, vnto the Shepheard youth, That he
in sport doth call his Rosalind

Cel. Why how now Ganimed, sweet Ganimed

Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on bloud

Cel. There is more in it; Cosen Ganimed

Oli. Looke, he recouers

Ros. I would I were at home

Cel. Wee'll lead you thither:

I pray you will you take him by the arme

Oli. Be of good cheere youth: you a man? You lacke a mans heart

Ros. I doe so, I confesse it:

Ah, sirra, a body would thinke this was well counterfeited, I pray you
tell your brother how well I counterfeited: heigh-ho

Oli. This was not counterfeit, there is too great testimony in your
complexion, that it was a passion of earnest

Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you

Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man

Ros. So I doe: but yfaith, I should haue beene a woman by right

Cel. Come, you looke paler and paler: pray you draw homewards: good
sir, goe with vs

Oli. That will I: for I must beare answere backe How you excuse my
brother, Rosalind

Ros. I shall deuise something: but I pray you commend my
counterfeiting to him: will you goe?

Exeunt.



Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.



Enter Clowne and Awdrie.

Clow. We shall finde a time Awdrie, patience gentle Awdrie

Awd. Faith the Priest was good enough, for all the olde gentlemans
saying

Clow. A most wicked Sir Oliuer, Awdrie, a most vile Mar-text. But
Awdrie, there is a youth heere in the Forrest layes claime to you

Awd. I, I know who 'tis: he hath no interest in mee in the world:
here comes the man you meane. Enter William.

Clo. It is meat and drinke to me to see a Clowne, by my troth, we
that haue good wits, haue much to answer for: we shall be flouting: we
cannot hold

Will. Good eu'n Audrey

Aud. God ye good eu'n William

Will. And good eu'n to you Sir

Clo. Good eu'n gentle friend. Couer thy head, couer thy head: Nay
prethee bee couer'd. How olde are you Friend?

Will. Fiue and twentie Sir

Clo. A ripe age: Is thy name William?

Will. William, sir

Clo. A faire name. Was't borne i'th Forrest heere?   Will. I sir, I
thanke God

Clo. Thanke God: A good answer:

Art rich?

Will. 'Faith sir, so, so

Cle. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent good: and yet it is
not, it is but so, so:

Art thou wise?

Will. I sir, I haue a prettie wit

Clo. Why, thou saist well. I do now remember a saying: The Foole
doth thinke he is wise, but the wiseman knowes himselfe to be a Foole.
The Heathen Philosopher, when he had a desire to eate a Grape, would
open his lips when he put it into his mouth, meaning thereby, that
Grapes were made to eate, and lippes to open. You do loue this maid?

Will. I do sir

Clo. Giue me your hand: Art thou Learned?   Will. No sir

Clo. Then learne this of me, To haue, is to haue. For it is a figure
in Rhetoricke, that drink being powr'd out of a cup into a glasse, by
filling the one, doth empty the other. For all your Writers do consent,
that ipse is hee: now you are not ipse, for I am he

Will. Which he sir?

Clo. He sir, that must marrie this woman: Therefore you Clowne,
abandon: which is in the vulgar, leaue the societie: which in the
boorish, is companie, of this female: which in the common, is woman:
which together, is, abandon the society of this Female, or Clowne thou
perishest: or to thy better vnderstanding, dyest; or (to wit) I kill
thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy libertie into
bondage: I will deale in poyson with thee, or in bastinado, or in
steele: I will bandy with thee in faction, I will ore-run thee with
policie: I will kill thee a hundred and fifty wayes, therefore tremble
and depart

Aud. Do good William

Will. God rest you merry sir.

Exit

Enter Corin.

Cor. Our Master and Mistresse seekes you: come away, away

Clo. Trip Audry, trip Audry, I attend, I attend.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Orlando & Oliuer.

Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance you should like
her? that, but seeing, you should loue her? And louing woo? and wooing,
she should graunt? And will you perseuer to enioy her?

Ol. Neither call the giddinesse of it in question; the pouertie of
her, the small acquaintance, my sodaine woing, nor sodaine consenting:
but say with mee, I loue Aliena: say with her, that she loues mee;
consent with both, that we may enioy each other: it shall be to your
good: for my fathers house, and all the reuennew, that was old Sir
Rowlands will I estate vpon you, and heere liue and die a Shepherd.

Enter Rosalind.

Orl. You haue my consent.

Let your Wedding be to morrow: thither will I Inuite the Duke, and
all's contented followers: Go you, and prepare Aliena; for looke you,
Heere comes my Rosalinde

Ros. God saue you brother

Ol. And you faire sister

Ros. Oh my deere Orlando, how it greeues me to see thee weare thy
heart in a scarfe

Orl. It is my arme

Ros. I thought thy heart had beene wounded with the clawes of a
Lion

Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a Lady

Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeyted to sound, when he
shew'd me your handkercher?   Orl. I, and greater wonders then that

Ros. O, I know where you are: nay, tis true: there was neuer any
thing so sodaine, but the sight of two Rammes, and Cesars Thrasonicall
bragge of I came, saw, and ouercome. For your brother, and my sister,
no sooner met, but they look'd: no sooner look'd, but they lou'd; no
sooner lou'd, but they sigh'd: no sooner sigh'd but they ask'd one
another the reason: no sooner knew the reason, but they sought the
remedie: and in these degrees, haue they made a paire of staires to
marriage, which they will climbe incontinent, or else bee incontinent
before marriage; they are in the verie wrath of loue, and they will
together. Clubbes cannot part them

Orl. They shall be married to morrow: and I will bid the Duke to the
Nuptiall. But O, how bitter a thing it is, to looke into happines
through another mans eies: by so much the more shall I to morrow be at
the height of heart heauinesse, by how much I shal thinke my brother
happie, in hauing what he wishes for

Ros. Why then to morrow, I cannot serue your turne for Rosalind?

Orl. I can liue no longer by thinking

Ros. I will wearie you then no longer with idle talking. Know of me
then (for now I speake to some purpose) that I know you are a Gentleman
of good conceit: I speake not this, that you should beare a good
opinion of my knowledge: insomuch (I say) I know you are: neither do I
labor for a greater esteeme then may in some little measure draw a
beleefe from you, to do your selfe good, and not to grace me. Beleeue
then, if you please, that I can do strange things: I haue since I was
three yeare old conuerst with a Magitian, most profound in his Art, and
yet not damnable. If you do loue Rosalinde so neere the hart, as your
gesture cries it out: when your brother marries Aliena, shall you
marrie her. I know into what straights of Fortune she is driuen, and it
is not impossible to me, if it appeare not inconuenient to you, to set
her before your eyes to morrow, humane as she is, and without any
danger

Orl. Speak'st thou in sober meanings?

Ros. By my life I do, which I tender deerly, though I say I am a
Magitian: Therefore put you in your best aray, bid your friends: for if
you will be married to morrow, you shall: and to Rosalind if you will.

Enter Siluius & Phebe.

Looke, here comes a Louer of mine, and a louer of hers

Phe. Youth, you haue done me much vngentlenesse, To shew the letter
that I writ to you

Ros. I care not if I haue: it is my studie To seeme despightfull and
vngentle to you: you are there followed by a faithful shepheard, Looke
vpon him, loue him: he worships you

Phe. Good shepheard, tell this youth what 'tis to loue   Sil. It is
to be all made of sighes and teares, And so am I for Phebe

Phe. And I for Ganimed

Orl. And I for Rosalind

Ros. And I for no woman

Sil. It is to be all made of faith and seruice, And so am I for
Phebe

Phe. And I for Ganimed

Orl. And I for Rosalind

Ros. And I for no woman

Sil. It is to be all made of fantasie, All made of passion, and all
made of wishes, All adoration, dutie, and obseruance,

All humblenesse, all patience, and impatience, All puritie, all triall,
all obseruance:

And so am I for Phebe

Phe. And so am I for Ganimed

Orl. And so am I for Rosalind

Ros. And so am I for no woman

Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?   Sil. If this be
so, why blame you me to loue you?   Orl. If this be so, why blame you
me to loue you?   Ros. Why do you speake too, Why blame you mee to loue
you

Orl. To her, that is not heere, nor doth not heare

Ros. Pray you no more of this, 'tis like the howling of Irish Wolues
against the Moone: I will helpe you if I can: I would loue you if I
could: To morrow meet me altogether: I wil marrie you, if euer I marrie
Woman, and Ile be married to morrow: I will satisfie you, if euer I
satisfi'd man, and you shall bee married to morrow. I wil content you,
if what pleases you contents you, and you shal be married to morrow: As
you loue Rosalind meet, as you loue Phebe meet, and as I loue no woman,
Ile meet: so fare you wel: I haue left you commands

Sil. Ile not faile, if I liue

Phe. Nor I

Orl. Nor I.

Exeunt.



Scoena Tertia.

Enter Clowne and Audrey.

Clo. To morrow is the ioyfull day Audrey, to morow will we be
married

Aud. I do desire it with all my heart: and I hope it is no dishonest
desire, to desire to be a woman of y world? Heere come two of the
banish'd Dukes Pages. Enter two Pages.

1.Pa. Wel met honest Gentleman

Clo. By my troth well met: come, sit, sit, and a song

2.Pa. We are for you, sit i'th middle

1.Pa. Shal we clap into't roundly, without hauking, or spitting, or
saying we are hoarse, which are the onely prologues to a bad voice

2.Pa. I faith, y'faith, and both in a tune like two gipsies on a
horse.

Song.

It was a Louer, and his lasse,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

That o're the greene corne feild did passe, In the spring time, the
onely pretty rang time. When Birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding.
Sweet Louers loue the spring,

And therefore take the present time.

With a hey, & a ho, and a hey nonino,

For loue is crowned with the prime.

In spring time, &c.

Betweene the acres of the Rie,

With a hey, and a ho, & a hey nonino:

These prettie Country folks would lie.

In spring time, &c.

This Carroll they began that houre,

With a hey and a ho, & a hey nonino:

How that a life was but a Flower,

In spring time, &c

Clo. Truly yong Gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the
dittie, yet y note was very vntunable   1.Pa. you are deceiu'd Sir, we
kept time, we lost not our time

Clo. By my troth yes: I count it but time lost to heare such a
foolish song. God buy you, and God mend your voices. Come Audrie.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Duke Senior, Amyens, Iaques, Orlando, Oliuer, Celia.

Du.Sen. Dost thou beleeue Orlando, that the boy Can do all this that
he hath promised?

Orl. I sometimes do beleeue, and somtimes do not, As those that feare
they hope, and know they feare. Enter Rosalinde, Siluius, & Phebe.

Ros. Patience once more, whiles our co[m]pact is vrg'd: You say, if I
bring in your Rosalinde,

You wil bestow her on Orlando heere?

Du.Se. That would I, had I kingdoms to giue with hir

Ros. And you say you wil haue her, when I bring hir?   Orl. That
would I, were I of all kingdomes King

Ros. You say, you'l marrie me, if I be willing

Phe. That will I, should I die the houre after

Ros. But if you do refuse to marrie me, You'l giue your selfe to
this most faithfull Shepheard

Phe. So is the bargaine

Ros. You say that you'l haue Phebe if she will

Sil. Though to haue her and death, were both one thing

Ros. I haue promis'd to make all this matter euen: Keepe you your
word, O Duke, to giue your daughter, You yours Orlando, to receiue his
daughter: Keepe you your word Phebe, that you'l marrie me, Or else
refusing me to wed this shepheard: Keepe your word Siluius, that you'l
marrie her If she refuse me, and from hence I go

To make these doubts all euen.

Exit Ros. and Celia.

Du.Sen. I do remember in this shepheard boy, Some liuely touches of
my daughters fauour

Orl. My Lord, the first time that I euer saw him, Me thought he was
a brother to your daughter: But my good Lord, this Boy is Forrest
borne, And hath bin tutor'd in the rudiments

Of many desperate studies, by his vnckle, Whom he reports to be a great
Magitian.

Enter Clowne and Audrey.

Obscured in the circle of this Forrest

Iaq. There is sure another flood toward, and these couples are
comming to the Arke. Here comes a payre of verie strange beasts, which
in all tongues, are call'd Fooles

Clo. Salutation and greeting to you all

Iaq. Good my Lord, bid him welcome: This is the Motley-minded
Gentleman, that I haue so often met in the Forrest: he hath bin a
Courtier he sweares

Clo. If any man doubt that, let him put mee to my purgation, I haue
trod a measure, I haue flattred a Lady, I haue bin politicke with my
friend, smooth with mine enemie, I haue vndone three Tailors, I haue
had foure quarrels, and like to haue fought one

Iaq. And how was that tane vp?

Clo. 'Faith we met, and found the quarrel was vpon the seuenth cause

Iaq. How seuenth cause? Good my Lord, like this fellow

Du.Se. I like him very well

Clo. God'ild you sir, I desire you of the like: I presse in heere
sir, amongst the rest of the Country copulatiues to sweare, and to
forsweare, according as mariage binds and blood breakes: a poore virgin
sir, an il-fauor'd thing sir, but mine owne, a poore humour of mine
sir, to take that that no man else will: rich honestie dwels like a
miser sir, in a poore house, as your Pearle in your foule oyster

Du.Se. By my faith, he is very swift, and sententious   Clo.
According to the fooles bolt sir, and such dulcet diseases

Iaq. But for the seuenth cause. How did you finde the quarrell on
the seuenth cause?

Clo. Vpon a lye, seuen times remoued: (beare your bodie more seeming
Audry) as thus sir: I did dislike the cut of a certaine Courtiers
beard: he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, hee was
in the minde it was: this is call'd the retort courteous. If I sent him
word againe, it was not well cut, he wold send me word he cut it to
please himselfe: this is call'd the quip modest. If againe, it was not
well cut, he disabled my iudgment: this is called, the reply churlish.
If againe it was not well cut, he would answer I spake not true: this
is call'd the reproofe valiant. If againe, it was not well cut, he wold
say, I lie: this is call'd the counter-checke quarrelsome: and so to
lye circumstantiall, and the lye direct

Iaq. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut?

Clo. I durst go no further then the lye circumstantial: nor he durst
not giue me the lye direct: and so wee measur'd swords, and parted

Iaq. Can you nominate in order now, the degrees of the lye

Clo. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the booke: as you haue bookes
for good manners: I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort
courteous: the second, the Quip-modest: the third, the reply Churlish:
the fourth, the Reproofe valiant: the fift, the Counterchecke
quarrelsome: the sixt, the Lye with circumstance: the seauenth, the Lye
direct: all these you may auoyd, but the Lye direct: and you may auoide
that too, with an If. I knew when seuen Iustices could not take vp a
Quarrell, but when the parties were met themselues, one of them thought
but of an If; as if you saide so, then I saide so: and they shooke
hands, and swore brothers. Your If, is the onely peace-maker: much
vertue in if

Iaq. Is not this a rare fellow my Lord? He's as good at any thing,
and yet a foole

Du.Se. He vses his folly like a stalking-horse, and vnder the
presentation of that he shoots his wit. Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and
Celia.

Still Musicke.

Hymen. Then is there mirth in heauen,

When earthly things made eauen

attone together.

Good Duke receiue thy daughter,

Hymen from Heauen brought her,

Yea brought her hether.

That thou mightst ioyne his hand with his, Whose heart within his
bosome is

Ros. To you I giue my selfe, for I am yours. To you I giue my selfe,
for I am yours

Du.Se. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter

Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind

Phe. If sight & shape be true, why then my loue adieu   Ros. Ile
haue no Father, if you be not he: Ile haue no Husband, if you be not
he:

Nor ne're wed woman, if you be not shee

Hy. Peace hoa: I barre confusion,

'Tis I must make conclusion

Of these most strange euents:

Here's eight that must take hands,

To ioyne in Hymens bands,

If truth holds true contents.

You and you, no crosse shall part;

You and you, are hart in hart:

You, to his loue must accord,

Or haue a Woman to your Lord.

You and you, are sure together,

As the Winter to fowle Weather:

Whiles a Wedlocke Hymne we sing,

Feede your selues with questioning:

That reason, wonder may diminish

How thus we met, and these things finish.

Song.

Wedding is great Iunos crowne,

O blessed bond of boord and bed:

'Tis Hymen peoples euerie towne,

High wedlock then be honored:

Honor, high honor and renowne

To Hymen, God of euerie Towne

Du.Se. O my deere Neece, welcome thou art to me, Euen daughter
welcome, in no lesse degree

Phe. I wil not eate my word, now thou art mine, Thy faith, my fancie
to thee doth combine. Enter Second Brother.

2.Bro. Let me haue audience for a word or two: I am the second sonne
of old Sir Rowland, That bring these tidings to this faire assembly.
Duke Frederick hearing how that euerie day Men of great worth resorted
to this forrest, Addrest a mightie power, which were on foote In his
owne conduct, purposely to take

His brother heere, and put him to the sword: And to the skirts of this
wilde Wood he came; Where, meeting with an old Religious man, After
some question with him, was conuerted Both from his enterprize, and
from the world: His crowne bequeathing to his banish'd Brother, And all
their Lands restor'd to him againe That were with him exil'd. This to
be true, I do engage my life

Du.Se. Welcome yong man:

Thou offer'st fairely to thy brothers wedding: To one his lands
with-held, and to the other A land it selfe at large, a potent
Dukedome. First, in this Forrest, let vs do those ends That heere were
well begun, and wel begot: And after, euery of this happie number

That haue endur'd shrew'd daies, and nights with vs, Shal share the
good of our returned fortune, According to the measure of their states.
Meane time, forget this new-falne dignitie, And fall into our Rusticke
Reuelrie:

Play Musicke, and you Brides and Bride-groomes all, With measure heap'd
in ioy, to'th Measures fall

Iaq. Sir, by your patience: if I heard you rightly, The Duke hath
put on a Religious life,

And throwne into neglect the pompous Court

2.Bro. He hath

Iaq. To him will I: out of these conuertites, There is much matter
to be heard, and learn'd: you to your former Honor, I bequeath

your patience, and your vertue, well deserues it. you to a loue, that
your true faith doth merit: you to your land, and loue, and great
allies: you to a long, and well-deserued bed:

And you to wrangling, for thy louing voyage Is but for two moneths
victuall'd: So to your pleasures, I am for other, then for dancing
meazures

Du.Se. Stay, Iaques, stay

Iaq. To see no pastime, I: what you would haue, Ile stay to know, at
your abandon'd caue. Enter.

Du.Se. Proceed, proceed: wee'l begin these rights, As we do trust,
they'l end in true delights.

Exit

Ros. It is not the fashion to see the Ladie the Epilogue: but it is
no more vnhandsome, then to see the Lord the Prologue. If it be true,
that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true, that a good play needes no
Epilogue. Yet to good wine they do vse good bushes: and good playes
proue the better by the helpe of good Epilogues: What a case am I in
then, that am neither a good Epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in
the behalfe of a good play? I am not furnish'd like a Begger, therefore
to begge will not become mee. My way is to coniure you, and Ile begin
with the Women. I charge you (O women) for the loue you beare to men,
to like as much of this Play, as please you: And I charge you (O men)
for the loue you beare to women (as I perceiue by your simpring, none
of you hates them) that betweene you, and the women, the play may
please. If I were a Woman, I would kisse as many of you as had beards
that pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd me, and breaths that I defi'de
not: And I am sure, as many as haue good beards, or good faces, or
sweet breaths, will for my kind offer, when I make curt'sie, bid me
farewell. Enter.

FINIS. As you Like it.



The Taming of the Shrew

Actus primus. Scaena Prima.

Enter Begger and Hostes, Christophero Sly.

Begger. Ile pheeze you infaith

Host. A paire of stockes you rogue

Beg. Y'are a baggage, the Slies are no Rogues. Looke in the
Chronicles, we came

in with Richard Conqueror: therefore Paucas pallabris, let the world
slide: Sessa

Host. You will not pay for the glasses you haue burst?   Beg. No,
not a deniere: go by S[aint]. Ieronimie, goe to thy cold bed, and warme
thee

Host. I know my remedie, I must go fetch the Head-borough

Beg. Third, or fourth, or fift Borough, Ile answere him by Law. Ile
not budge an inch boy: Let him come, and kindly.

Falles asleepe.

Winde hornes. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his traine.

Lo. Huntsman I charge thee, tender wel my hounds, Brach Meriman, the
poore Curre is imbost, And couple Clowder with the deepe-mouth'd brach,
Saw'st thou not boy how Siluer made it good At the hedge corner, in the
couldest fault, I would not loose the dogge for twentie pound

Hunts. Why Belman is as good as he my Lord, He cried vpon it at the
meerest losse,

And twice to day pick'd out the dullest sent, Trust me, I take him for
the better dogge

Lord. Thou art a Foole, if Eccho were as fleete, I would esteeme him
worth a dozen such:

But sup them well, and looke vnto them all, To morrow I intend to hunt
againe

Hunts. I will my Lord

Lord. What's heere? One dead, or drunke? See doth he breath?

2.Hun. He breath's my Lord. Were he not warm'd with Ale, this were a
bed but cold to sleep so soundly

Lord. Oh monstrous beast, how like a swine he lyes. Grim death, how
foule and loathsome is thine image: Sirs, I will practise on this
drunken man. What thinke you, if he were conuey'd to bed, Wrap'd in
sweet cloathes: Rings put vpon his fingers: A most delicious banquet by
his bed,

And braue attendants neere him when he wakes, Would not the begger then
forget himselfe?   1.Hun. Beleeue me Lord, I thinke he cannot choose

2.H. It would seem strange vnto him when he wak'd   Lord. Euen as a
flatt'ring dreame, or worthles fancie. Then take him vp, and manage
well the iest: Carrie him gently to my fairest Chamber,

And hang it round with all my wanton pictures: Balme his foule head in
warme distilled waters, And burne sweet Wood to make the Lodging
sweete: Procure me Musicke readie when he wakes,

To make a dulcet and a heauenly sound:

And if he chance to speake, be readie straight (And with a lowe
submissiue reuerence)

Say, what is it your Honor wil command:

Let one attend him with a siluer Bason

Full of Rose-water, and bestrew'd with Flowers, Another beare the Ewer:
the third a Diaper, And say wilt please your Lordship coole your hands.
Some one be readie with a costly suite,

And aske him what apparrel he will weare: Another tell him of his
Hounds and Horse, And that his Ladie mournes at his disease, Perswade
him that he hath bin Lunaticke,

And when he sayes he is, say that he dreames, For he is nothing but a
mightie Lord:

This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs,

It wil be pastime passing excellent,

If it be husbanded with modestie

1.Hunts. My Lord I warrant you we wil play our part As he shall
thinke by our true diligence

He is no lesse then what we say he is

Lord. Take him vp gently, and to bed with him, And each one to his
office when he wakes.

Sound trumpets.

Sirrah, go see what Trumpet 'tis that sounds, Belike some Noble
Gentleman that meanes

(Trauelling some iourney) to repose him heere. Enter Seruingman.

How now? who is it?

Ser. An't please your Honor, Players

That offer seruice to your Lordship.

Enter Players.

Lord. Bid them come neere:

Now fellowes, you are welcome

Players. We thanke your Honor

Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to night?   2.Player. So please
your Lordshippe to accept our dutie

Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember, Since once he
plaide a Farmers eldest sonne, 'Twas where you woo'd the Gentlewoman so
well: I haue forgot your name: but sure that part Was aptly fitted, and
naturally perform'd

Sincklo. I thinke 'twas Soto that your honor meanes

Lord. 'Tis verie true, thou didst it excellent: Well you are come to
me in happie time,

The rather for I haue some sport in hand, Wherein your cunning can
assist me much.

There is a Lord will heare you play to night; But I am doubtfull of
your modesties,

Least (ouer-eying of his odde behauiour,

For yet his honor neuer heard a play)

You breake into some merrie passion,

And so offend him: for I tell you sirs,

If you should smile, he growes impatient

Plai. Feare not my Lord, we can contain our selues, Were he the
veriest anticke in the world

Lord. Go sirra, take them to the Butterie, And giue them friendly
welcome euerie one, Let them want nothing that my house affoords.

Exit one with the Players.

Sirra go you to Bartholmew my Page,

And see him drest in all suites like a Ladie: That done, conduct him to
the drunkards chamber, And call him Madam, do him obeisance:

Tell him from me (as he will win my loue) He beare himselfe with
honourable action, Such as he hath obseru'd in noble Ladies

Vnto their Lords, by them accomplished,

Such dutie to the drunkard let him do:

With soft lowe tongue, and lowly curtesie, And say: What is't your
Honor will command, Wherein your Ladie, and your humble wife, May shew
her dutie, and make knowne her loue. And then with kinde embracements,
tempting kisses, And with declining head into his bosome

Bid him shed teares, as being ouer-ioyed

To see her noble Lord restor'd to health, Who for this seuen yeares
hath esteemed him No better then a poore and loathsome begger: And if
the boy haue not a womans guift

To raine a shower of commanded teares,

An Onion wil do well for such a shift,

Which in a Napkin (being close conuei'd)

Shall in despight enforce a waterie eie:

See this dispatch'd with all the hast thou canst, Anon Ile giue thee
more instructions.

Exit a seruingman.

I know the boy will wel vsurpe the grace, Voice, gate, and action of a
Gentlewoman: I long to heare him call the drunkard husband, And how my
men will stay themselues from laughter, When they do homage to this
simple peasant, Ile in to counsell them: haply my presence May well
abate the ouer-merrie spleene,

Which otherwise would grow into extreames. Enter aloft the drunkard
with attendants, some with apparel, Bason and

Ewer, & other appurtenances, & Lord.

Beg. For Gods sake a pot of small Ale

1.Ser. Wilt please your Lord drink a cup of sacke?   2.Ser. Wilt
please your Honor taste of these Conserues?   3.Ser. What raiment wil
your honor weare to day

Beg. I am Christophero Sly, call not mee Honour nor Lordship: I
ne're drank sacke in my life: and if you giue me any Conserues, giue me
conserues of Beefe: nere ask me what raiment Ile weare, for I haue no
more doublets then backes: no more stockings then legges: nor no more
shooes then feet, nay sometime more feete then shooes, or such shooes
as my toes looke through the ouer-leather

Lord. Heauen cease this idle humor in your Honor. Oh that a mightie
man of such discent,

Of such possessions, and so high esteeme

Should be infused with so foule a spirit

Beg. What would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Slie, old
Slies sonne of Burton-heath, by byrth a Pedler, by education a
Cardmaker, by transmutation a Beare-heard, and now by present
profession a Tinker. Aske Marrian Hacket the fat Alewife of Wincot, if
shee know me not: if she say I am not xiiii.d. on the score for sheere
Ale, score me vp for the lyingst knaue in Christen dome. What I am not
bestraught: here's-

3.Man. Oh this it is that makes your Ladie mourne

2.Man. Oh this is it that makes your seruants droop

Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred shuns your house As beaten
hence by your strange Lunacie.

Oh Noble Lord, bethinke thee of thy birth, Call home thy ancient
thoughts from banishment, And banish hence these abiect lowlie dreames:
Looke how thy seruants do attend on thee, Each in his office readie at
thy becke.

Wilt thou haue Musicke? Harke Apollo plaies,

Musick

And twentie caged Nightingales do sing.

Or wilt thou sleepe? Wee'l haue thee to a Couch, Softer and sweeter
then the lustfull bed

On purpose trim'd vp for Semiramis.

Say thou wilt walke: we wil bestrow the ground. Or wilt thou ride? Thy
horses shal be trap'd, Their harnesse studded all with Gold and Pearle.
Dost thou loue hawking? Thou hast hawkes will soare Aboue the morning
Larke. Or wilt thou hunt, Thy hounds shall make the Welkin answer them
And fetch shrill ecchoes from the hollow earth

1.Man. Say thou wilt course, thy gray-hounds are as swift As
breathed Stags: I fleeter then the Roe

2.M. Dost thou loue pictures? we wil fetch thee strait Adonis
painted by a running brooke,

And Citherea all in sedges hid,

Which seeme to moue and wanton with her breath, Euen as the wauing
sedges play with winde

Lord. Wee'l shew thee Io, as she was a Maid, And how she was
beguiled and surpriz'd,

As liuelie painted, as the deede was done

3.Man. Or Daphne roming through a thornie wood, Scratching her legs,
that one shal sweare she bleeds, And at that sight shal sad Apollo
weepe,

So workmanlie the blood and teares are drawne

Lord. Thou art a Lord, and nothing but a Lord: Thou hast a Ladie
farre more Beautifull,

Then any woman in this waining age

1.Man. And til the teares that she hath shed for thee, Like enuious
flouds ore-run her louely face, She was the fairest creature in the
world, And yet shee is inferiour to none

Beg. Am I a Lord, and haue I such a Ladie? Or do I dreame? Or haue I
dream'd till now? I do not sleepe: I see, I heare, I speake: I smel
sweet sauours, and I feele soft things: Vpon my life I am a Lord
indeede,

And not a Tinker, nor Christopher Slie.

Well, bring our Ladie hither to our sight, And once againe a pot o'th
smallest Ale

2.Man. Wilt please your mightinesse to wash your hands:

Oh how we ioy to see your wit restor'd,

Oh that once more you knew but what you are: These fifteene yeeres you
haue bin in a dreame, Or when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept

Beg. These fifteene yeeres, by my fay, a goodly nap, But did I neuer
speake of all that time

1.Man. Oh yes my Lord, but verie idle words, For though you lay
heere in this goodlie chamber, Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of
doore, And raile vpon the Hostesse of the house, And say you would
present her at the Leete, Because she brought stone-Iugs, and no seal'd
quarts: Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket

Beg. I, the womans maide of the house

3.Man. Why sir you know no house, nor no such maid Nor no such men
as you haue reckon'd vp,

As Stephen Slie, and old Iohn Naps of Greece, And Peter Turph, and
Henry Pimpernell,

And twentie more such names and men as these, Which neuer were, nor no
man euer saw

Beg. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends

All. Amen.

Enter Lady with Attendants.

Beg. I thanke thee, thou shalt not loose by it

Lady. How fares my noble Lord?

Beg. Marrie I fare well, for heere is cheere enough. Where is my
wife?

La. Heere noble Lord, what is thy will with her?   Beg. Are you my
wife, and will not cal me husband? My men should call me Lord, I am
your good-man

La. My husband and my Lord, my Lord and husband I am your wife in
all obedience

Beg. I know it well, what must I call her?   Lord. Madam

Beg. Alce Madam, or Ione Madam?

Lord. Madam, and nothing else, so Lords cal Ladies   Beg. Madame
wife, they say that I haue dream'd, And slept aboue some fifteene yeare
or more

Lady. I, and the time seeme's thirty vnto me, Being all this time
abandon'd from your bed

Beg. 'Tis much, seruants leaue me and her alone: Madam vndresse you,
and come now to bed

La. Thrice noble Lord, let me intreat of you To pardon me yet for a
night or two:

Or if not so, vntill the Sun be set.

For your Physitians haue expressely charg'd, In perill to incurre your
former malady,

That I should yet absent me from your bed: I hope this reason stands
for my excuse

Beg. I, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long: But I would be
loth to fall into my dreames againe: I wil therefore tarrie in despight
of the flesh & the blood Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Your Honors Players hearing your amendment, Are come to play a
pleasant Comedie,

For so your doctors hold it very meete,

Seeing too much sadnesse hath congeal'd your blood, And melancholly is
the Nurse of frenzie,

Therefore they thought it good you heare a play, And frame your minde
to mirth and merriment, Which barres a thousand harmes, and lengthens
life

Beg. Marrie I will let them play, it is not a Comontie, a Christmas
gambold, or a tumbling tricke?   Lady. No my good Lord, it is more
pleasing stuffe

Beg. What, houshold stuffe

Lady. It is a kinde of history

Beg. Well, we'l see't:

Come Madam wife sit by my side,

And let the world slip, we shall nere be yonger.

Flourish. Enter Lucentio, and his man Triano.

Luc. Tranio, since for the great desire I had To see faire Padua,
nurserie of Arts,

I am arriu'd for fruitfull Lumbardie,

The pleasant garden of great Italy,

And by my fathers loue and leaue am arm'd With his good will, and thy
good companie. My trustie seruant well approu'd in all,

Heere let vs breath, and haply institute

A course of Learning, and ingenious studies. Pisa renowned for graue
Citizens

Gaue me my being, and my father first

A Merchant of great Trafficke through the world: Vincentio's come of
the Bentiuolij,

Vincentio's sonne, brought vp in Florence, It shall become to serue all
hopes conceiu'd To decke his fortune with his vertuous deedes: And
therefore Tranio, for the time I studie, Vertue and that part of
Philosophie

Will I applie, that treats of happinesse, By vertue specially to be
atchieu'd.

Tell me thy minde, for I haue Pisa left,

And am to Padua come, as he that leaues

A shallow plash, to plunge him in the deepe, And with sacietie seekes
to quench his thirst

Tra. Me Pardonato, gentle master mine: I am in all affected as your
selfe,

Glad that you thus continue your resolue, To sucke the sweets of sweete
Philosophie. Onely (good master) while we do admire

This vertue, and this morall discipline,

Let's be no Stoickes, nor no stockes I pray, Or so deuote to Aristotles
checkes

As Ouid; be an out-cast quite abiur'd:

Balke Lodgicke with acquaintance that you haue, And practise Rhetoricke
in your common talke, Musicke and Poesie vse, to quicken you,

The Mathematickes, and the Metaphysickes

Fall to them as you finde your stomacke serues you: No profit growes,
where is no pleasure tane: In briefe sir, studie what you most affect

Luc. Gramercies Tranio, well dost thou aduise, If Biondello thou
wert come ashore,

We could at once put vs in readinesse,

And take a Lodging fit to entertaine

Such friends (as time) in Padua shall beget. But stay a while, what
companie is this?

Tra. Master some shew to welcome vs to Towne. Enter Baptista with his
two daughters, Katerina & Bianca, Gremio a

Pantelowne, Hortentio sister to Bianca. Lucen. Tranio, stand by.

Bap. Gentlemen, importune me no farther, For how I firmly am resolu'd
you know:

That is, not to bestow my yongest daughter, Before I haue a husband for
the elder:

If either of you both loue Katherina,

Because I know you well, and loue you well, Leaue shall you haue to
court her at your pleasure

Gre. To cart her rather. She's to rough for mee, There, there
Hortensio, will you any Wife?   Kate. I pray you sir, is it your will

To make a stale of me amongst these mates?   Hor. Mates maid, how meane
you that?

No mates for you,

Vnlesse you were of gentler milder mould

Kate. I'faith sir, you shall neuer neede to feare, Iwis it is not
halfe way to her heart:

But if it were, doubt not, her care should be, To combe your noddle
with a three-legg'd stoole, And paint your face, and vse you like a
foole

Hor. From all such diuels, good Lord deliuer vs

Gre. And me too, good Lord

Tra. Husht master, heres some good pastime toward; That wench is
starke mad, or wonderfull froward

Lucen. But in the others silence do I see, Maids milde behauiour and
sobrietie.

Peace Tranio

Tra. Well said Mr, mum, and gaze your fill

Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soone make good What I haue said, Bianca
get you in,

And let it not displease thee good Bianca, For I will loue thee nere
the lesse my girle

Kate. A pretty peate, it is best put finger in the eye, and she knew
why

Bian. Sister content you, in my discontent. Sir, to your pleasure
humbly I subscribe: My bookes and instruments shall be my companie, On
them to looke, and practise by my selfe

Luc. Harke Tranio, thou maist heare Minerua speak

Hor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange, Sorrie am I that our
good will effects

Bianca's greefe

Gre. Why will you mew her vp

(Signior Baptista) for this fiend of hell, And make her beare the
pennance of her tongue

Bap. Gentlemen content ye: I am resolud: Go in Bianca.

And for I know she taketh most delight

In Musicke, Instruments, and Poetry,

Schoolemasters will I keepe within my house, Fit to instruct her youth.
If you Hortensio, Or signior Gremio you know any such,

Preferre them hither: for to cunning men, I will be very kinde and
liberall,

To mine owne children, in good bringing vp, And so farewell: Katherina
you may stay,

For I haue more to commune with Bianca.

Enter.

Kate. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not? What shall I be
appointed houres, as though (Belike) I knew not what to take,

And what to leaue? Ha.

Exit

Gre. You may go to the diuels dam: your guifts are so good heere's
none will holde you: Their loue is not so great Hortensio, but we may
blow our nails together, and fast it fairely out. Our cakes dough on
both sides. Farewell: yet for the loue I beare my sweet Bianca, if I
can by any meanes light on a fit man to teach her that wherein she
delights, I will wish him to her father

Hor. So will I signiour Gremio: but a word I pray: Though the nature
of our quarrell yet neuer brook'd parle, know now vpon aduice, it
toucheth vs both: that we may yet againe haue accesse to our faire
Mistris, and be happie riuals in Bianca's loue, to labour and effect
one thing specially

Gre. What's that I pray?

Hor. Marrie sir to get a husband for her Sister

Gre. A husband: a diuell

Hor. I say a husband

Gre. I say, a diuell: Think'st thou Hortensio, though her father be
verie rich, any man is so verie a foole to be married to hell?

Hor. Tush Gremio: though it passe your patience & mine to endure her
lowd alarums, why man there bee good fellowes in the world, and a man
could light on them, would take her with all faults, and mony enough

Gre. I cannot tell: but I had as lief take her dowrie with this
condition; To be whipt at the hie crosse euerie morning

Hor. Faith (as you say) there's small choise in rotten apples: but
come, since this bar in law makes vs friends, it shall be so farre
forth friendly maintain'd, till by helping Baptistas eldest daughter to
a husband, wee set his yongest free for a husband, and then haue too't
afresh: Sweet Bianca, happy man be his dole: hee that runnes fastest,
gets the Ring: How say you signior Gremio?   Grem. I am agreed, and
would I had giuen him the best horse in Padua to begin his woing that
would thoroughly woe her, wed her, and bed her, and ridde the house of
her. Come on.



Exeunt. ambo. Manet Tranio and Lucentio

Tra. I pray sir tel me, is it possible

That loue should of a sodaine take such hold

Luc. Oh Tranio, till I found it to be true, I neuer thought it
possible or likely.

But see, while idely I stood looking on,

I found the effect of Loue in idlenesse,

And now in plainnesse do confesse to thee That art to me as secret and
as deere

As Anna to the Queene of Carthage was:

Tranio I burne, I pine, I perish Tranio,

If I atchieue not this yong modest gyrle: Counsaile me Tranio, for I
know thou canst: Assist me Tranio, for I know thou wilt

Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you now, Affection is not rated
from the heart:

If loue haue touch'd you, naught remaines but so, Redime te captam quam
queas minimo

Luc. Gramercies Lad: Go forward, this contents, The rest wil
comfort, for thy counsels sound

Tra. Master, you look'd so longly on the maide, Perhaps you mark'd
not what's the pith of all

Luc. Oh yes, I saw sweet beautie in her face, Such as the daughter
of Agenor had,

That made great Ioue to humble him to her hand, When with his knees he
kist the Cretan strond

Tra. Saw you no more? Mark'd you not how hir sister Began to scold,
and raise vp such a storme, That mortal eares might hardly indure the
din

Luc. Tranio, I saw her corrall lips to moue, And with her breath she
did perfume the ayre, Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her

Tra. Nay, then 'tis time to stirre him fro[m] his trance: I pray
awake sir: if you loue the Maide,

Bend thoughts and wits to atcheeue her. Thus it stands: Her elder
sister is so curst and shrew'd, That til the Father rid his hands of
her, Master, your Loue must liue a maide at home, And therefore has he
closely meu'd her vp, Because she will not be annoy'd with suters

Luc. Ah Tranio, what a cruell Fathers he: But art thou not aduis'd,
he tooke some care To get her cunning Schoolemasters to instruct her

Tra. I marry am I sir, and now 'tis plotted

Luc. I haue it Tranio

Tra. Master, for my hand,

Both our inuentions meet and iumpe in one

Luc. Tell me thine first

Tra. You will be schoole-master,

And vndertake the teaching of the maid:

That's your deuice

Luc. It is: May it be done?

Tra. Not possible: for who shall beare your part, And be in Padua
heere Vincentio's sonne,

Keepe house, and ply his booke, welcome his friends, Visit his
Countrimen, and banquet them?

Luc. Basta, content thee: for I haue it full. We haue not yet bin
seene in any house,

Nor can we be distinguish'd by our faces, For man or master: then it
followes thus; Thou shalt be master, Tranio in my sted:

Keepe house, and port, and seruants, as I should, I will some other be,
some Florentine,

Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa.

'Tis hatch'd, and shall be so: Tranio at once Vncase thee: take my
Coulord hat and cloake, When Biondello comes, he waites on thee,

But I will charme him first to keepe his tongue

Tra. So had you neede:

In breefe Sir, sith it your pleasure is,

And I am tyed to be obedient,

For so your father charg'd me at our parting: Be seruiceable to my
sonne (quoth he)

Although I thinke 'twas in another sense, I am content to bee
Lucentio,

Because so well I loue Lucentio

Luc. Tranio be so, because Lucentio loues, And let me be a slaue, t'
atchieue that maide, Whose sodaine sight hath thral'd my wounded eye.
Enter Biondello.

Heere comes the rogue. Sirra, where haue you bin?   Bion. Where haue I
beene? Nay how now, where are you? Maister, ha's my fellow Tranio
stolne your cloathes, or you stolne his, or both? Pray what's the
newes?

Luc. Sirra come hither, 'tis no time to iest, And therefore frame
your manners to the time Your fellow Tranio heere to saue my life, Puts
my apparrell, and my count'nance on, And I for my escape haue put on
his:

For in a quarrell since I came a-shore,

I kil'd a man, and feare I was descried:

Waite you on him, I charge you, as becomes: While I make way from hence
to saue my life: You vnderstand me?

Bion. I sir, ne're a whit

Luc. And not a iot of Tranio in your mouth, Tranio is chang'd into
Lucentio

Bion. The better for him, would I were so too

Tra. So could I 'faith boy, to haue the next wish after, that
Lucentio indeede had Baptistas yongest daughter. But sirra, not for my
sake, but your masters, I aduise you vse your manners discreetly in all
kind of companies: When I am alone, why then I am Tranio: but in all
places else, your master Lucentio

Luc. Tranio let's go:

One thing more rests, that thy selfe execute, To make one among these
wooers: if thou ask me why, Sufficeth my reasons are both good and
waighty.

Exeunt. The Presenters aboue speakes.

1.Man. My Lord you nod, you do not minde the play

Beg. Yes by Saint Anne do I, a good matter surely: Comes there any
more of it?

Lady. My Lord, 'tis but begun

Beg. 'Tis a verie excellent peece of worke, Madame Ladie: would
'twere done.

They sit and marke.

Enter Petruchio, and his man Grumio.

Petr. Verona, for a while I take my leaue, To see my friends in
Padua; but of all

My best beloued and approued friend

Hortensio: & I trow this is his house:

Heere sirra Grumio, knocke I say

Gru. Knocke sir? whom should I knocke? Is there any man ha's rebus'd
your worship?

Petr. Villaine I say, knocke me heere soundly

Gru. Knocke you heere sir? Why sir, what am I sir, that I should
knocke you heere sir

Petr. Villaine I say, knocke me at this gate, And rap me well, or
Ile knocke your knaues pate

Gru. My Mr is growne quarrelsome:

I should knocke you first,

And then I know after who comes by the worst

Petr. Will it not be?

'Faith sirrah, and you'l not knocke, Ile ring it, Ile trie how you can
Sol, Fa, and sing it.

He rings him by the eares

Gru. Helpe mistris helpe, my master is mad

Petr. Now knocke when I bid you: sirrah villaine. Enter Hortensio.

Hor. How now, what's the matter? My olde friend Grumio, and my good
friend Petruchio? How do you all at Verona?

Petr. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray? Contutti le core
bene trobatto, may I say

Hor. Alla nostra casa bene venuto multo honorata signior mio
Petruchio.

Rise Grumio rise, we will compound this quarrell

Gru. Nay 'tis no matter sir, what he leges in Latine. If this be not
a lawfull cause for me to leaue his seruice, looke you sir: He bid me
knocke him, & rap him soundly sir. Well, was it fit for a seruant to
vse his master so, being perhaps (for ought I see) two and thirty, a
peepe out? Whom would to God I had well knockt at first, then had not
Grumio come by the worst

Petr. A sencelesse villaine: good Hortensio, I bad the rascall
knocke vpon your gate,

And could not get him for my heart to do it

Gru. Knocke at the gate? O heauens: spake you not these words
plaine? Sirra, Knocke me heere: rappe me heere: knocke me well, and
knocke me soundly? And come you now with knocking at the gate?

Petr. Sirra be gone, or talke not I aduise you

Hor. Petruchio patience, I am Grumio's pledge: Why this a heauie
chance twixt him and you, Your ancient trustie pleasant seruant Grumio:
And tell me now (sweet friend) what happie gale Blowes you to Padua
heere, from old Verona?   Petr. Such wind as scatters yongmen throgh y
world, To seeke their fortunes farther then at home, Where small
experience growes but in a few. Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with
me, Antonio my father is deceast,

And I haue thrust my selfe into this maze, Happily to wiue and thriue,
as best I may: Crownes in my purse I haue, and goods at home, And so am
come abroad to see the world

Hor. Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee, And wish thee to
a shrew'd ill-fauour'd wife? Thou'dst thanke me but a little for my
counsell: And yet Ile promise thee she shall be rich, And verie rich:
but th'art too much my friend, And Ile not wish thee to her

Petr. Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as wee, Few words
suffice: and therefore, if thou know One rich enough to be Petruchio's
wife:

(As wealth is burthen of my woing dance)

Be she as foule as was Florentius Loue,

As old as Sibell, and as curst and shrow'd As Socrates Zentippe, or a
worse:

She moues me not, or not remoues at least Affections edge in me. Were
she is as rough As are the swelling Adriaticke seas.

I come to wiue it wealthily in Padua:

If wealthily, then happily in Padua

Gru. Nay looke you sir, hee tels you flatly what his minde is: why
giue him Gold enough, and marrie him to a Puppet or an Aglet babie, or
an old trot with ne're a tooth in her head, though she haue as manie
diseases as two and fiftie horses. Why nothing comes amisse, so monie
comes withall

Hor. Petruchio, since we are stept thus farre in, I will continue
that I broach'd in iest,

I can Petruchio helpe thee to a wife

With wealth enough, and yong and beautious, Brought vp as best becomes
a Gentlewoman. Her onely fault, and that is faults enough, Is, that she
is intollerable curst,

And shrow'd, and froward, so beyond all measure, That were my state
farre worser then it is, I would not wed her for a mine of Gold

Petr. Hortensio peace: thou knowst not golds effect, Tell me her
fathers name, and 'tis enough: For I will boord her, though she chide
as loud As thunder, when the clouds in Autumne cracke

Hor. Her father is Baptista Minola,

An affable and courteous Gentleman,

Her name is Katherina Minola,

Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue

Petr. I know her father, though I know not her, And he knew my
deceased father well:

I wil not sleepe Hortensio til I see her, And therefore let me be thus
bold with you, To giue you ouer at this first encounter, Vnlesse you
wil accompanie me thither

Gru . I pray you Sir let him go while the humor lasts. A my word,
and she knew him as wel as I do, she would thinke scolding would doe
little good vpon him. Shee may perhaps call him halfe a score Knaues,
or so: Why that's nothing; and he begin once, hee'l raile in his rope
trickes. Ile tell you what sir, and she stand him but a litle, he wil
throw a figure in her face, and so disfigure hir with it, that shee
shal haue no more eies to see withall then a Cat: you know him not sir

Hor. Tarrie Petruchio, I must go with thee, For in Baptistas keepe
my treasure is:

He hath the Iewel of my life in hold,

His yongest daughter, beautiful Bianca,

And her with-holds from me. Other more

Suters to her, and riuals in my Loue:

Supposing it a thing impossible,

For those defects I haue before rehearst, That euer Katherina wil be
woo'd:

Therefore this order hath Baptista tane,

That none shal haue accesse vnto Bianca,

Til Katherine the Curst, haue got a husband

Gru. Katherine the curst,

A title for a maide, of all titles the worst

Hor. Now shal my friend Petruchio do me grace, And offer me
disguis'd in sober robes,

To old Baptista as a schoole-master

Well seene in Musicke, to instruct Bianca, That so I may by this deuice
at least

Haue leaue and leisure to make loue to her, And vnsuspected court her
by her selfe.

Enter Gremio and Lucentio disguised.

Gru. Heere's no knauerie. See, to beguile the olde-folkes, how the
young folkes lay their heads together. Master, master, looke about you:
Who goes there? ha

Hor. Peace Grumio, it is the riuall of my Loue. Petruchio stand by a
while

Grumio. A proper stripling, and an amorous

Gremio. O very well, I haue perus'd the note: Hearke you sir, Ile
haue them verie fairely bound, All bookes of Loue, see that at any
hand, And see you reade no other Lectures to her: You vnderstand me.
Ouer and beside

Signior Baptistas liberalitie,

Ile mend it with a Largesse. Take your paper too, And let me haue them
verie wel perfum'd;

For she is sweeter then perfume it selfe

To whom they go to: what wil you reade to her

Luc. What ere I reade to her, Ile pleade for you, As for my patron,
stand you so assur'd,

As firmely as your selfe were still in place, Yea and perhaps with more
successefull words Then you; vnlesse you were a scholler sir

Gre. Oh this learning, what a thing it is

Gru. Oh this Woodcocke, what an Asse it is

Petru. Peace sirra

Hor. Grumio mum: God saue you signior Gremio

Gre. And you are wel met, Signior Hortensio. Trow you whither I am
going? To Baptista Minola, I promist to enquire carefully

About a schoolemaster for the faire Bianca, And by good fortune I haue
lighted well

On this yong man: For learning and behauiour Fit for her turne, well
read in Poetrie

And other bookes, good ones, I warrant ye

Hor. 'Tis well: and I haue met a Gentleman Hath promist me to helpe
one to another,

A fine Musitian to instruct our Mistris,

So shal I no whit be behinde in dutie

To faire Bianca, so beloued of me

Gre. Beloued of me, and that my deeds shal proue

Gru. And that his bags shal proue

Hor. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our loue, Listen to me, and if
you speake me faire, Ile tel you newes indifferent good for either.
Heere is a Gentleman whom by chance I met Vpon agreement from vs to his
liking,

Will vndertake to woo curst Katherine,

Yea, and to marrie her, if her dowrie please

Gre. So said, so done, is well:

Hortensio, haue you told him all her faults?   Petr. I know she is an
irkesome brawling scold: If that be all Masters, I heare no harme

Gre. No, sayst me so, friend? What Countreyman?   Petr. Borne in
Verona, old Butonios sonne: My father dead, my fortune liues for me,

And I do hope, good dayes and long, to see

Gre. Oh sir, such a life with such a wife, were strange: But if you
haue a stomacke, too't a Gods name, You shal haue me assisting you in
all.

But will you woo this Wilde-cat?

Petr. Will I liue?

Gru. Wil he woo her? I: or Ile hang her

Petr. Why came I hither, but to that intent? Thinke you, a little
dinne can daunt mine eares? Haue I not in my time heard Lions rore?

Haue I not heard the sea, puft vp with windes, Rage like an angry
Boare, chafed with sweat? Haue I not heard great Ordnance in the field?
And heauens Artillerie thunder in the skies? Haue I not in a pitched
battell heard

Loud larums, neighing steeds, & trumpets clangue? And do you tell me of
a womans tongue?

That giues not halfe so great a blow to heare, As wil a Chesse-nut in a
Farmers fire.

Tush, tush, feare boyes with bugs

Gru. For he feares none

Grem. Hortensio hearke:

This Gentleman is happily arriu'd,

My minde presumes for his owne good, and yours

Hor. I promist we would be Contributors, And beare his charge of
wooing whatsoere

Gremio. And so we wil, prouided that he win her

Gru. I would I were as sure of a good dinner. Enter Tranio braue,
and Biondello.

Tra. Gentlemen God saue you. If I may be bold Tell me I beseech you,
which is the readiest way To the house of Signior Baptista Minola?

Bion. He that ha's the two faire daughters: ist he you meane?

Tra. Euen he Biondello

Gre. Hearke you sir, you meane not her to-   Tra. Perhaps him and
her sir, what haue you to do?   Petr. Not her that chides sir, at any
hand I pray

Tranio. I loue no chiders sir: Biondello, let's away

Luc. Well begun Tranio

Hor. Sir, a word ere you go:

Are you a sutor to the Maid you talke of, yea or no?   Tra. And if I be
sir, is it any offence?   Gremio. No: if without more words you will
get you hence

Tra. Why sir, I pray are not the streets as free For me, as for
you?

Gre. But so is not she

Tra. For what reason I beseech you

Gre. For this reason if you'l kno,

That she's the choise loue of Signior Gremio

Hor. That she's the chosen of signior Hortensio

Tra. Softly my Masters: If you be Gentlemen Do me this right: heare
me with patience. Baptista is a noble Gentleman,

To whom my Father is not all vnknowne,

And were his daughter fairer then she is, She may more sutors haue, and
me for one. Faire Laedaes daughter had a thousand wooers, Then well one
more may faire Bianca haue; And so she shall: Lucentio shal make one,
Though Paris came, in hope to speed alone

Gre. What, this Gentleman will out-talke vs all

Luc. Sir giue him head, I know hee'l proue a Iade

Petr. Hortensio, to what end are all these words?   Hor. Sir, let me
be so bold as aske you, Did you yet euer see Baptistas daughter?

Tra. No sir, but heare I do that he hath two: The one, as famous for
a scolding tongue, As is the other, for beauteous modestie

Petr. Sir, sir, the first's for me, let her go by

Gre. Yea, leaue that labour to great Hercules, And let it be more
then Alcides twelue

Petr. Sir vnderstand you this of me (insooth) The yongest daughter
whom you hearken for, Her father keepes from all accesse of sutors, And
will not promise her to any man,

Vntill the elder sister first be wed.

The yonger then is free, and not before

Tranio. If it be so sir, that you are the man Must steed vs all, and
me amongst the rest: And if you breake the ice, and do this seeke,
Atchieue the elder: set the yonger free,

For our accesse, whose hap shall be to haue her, Wil not so gracelesse
be, to be ingrate

Hor. Sir you say wel, and wel you do conceiue, And since you do
professe to be a sutor,

You must as we do, gratifie this Gentleman, To whom we all rest
generally beholding

Tranio. Sir, I shal not be slacke, in signe whereof, Please ye we
may contriue this afternoone, And quaffe carowses to our Mistresse
health, And do as aduersaries do in law,

Striue mightily, but eate and drinke as friends

Gru. Bion. Oh excellent motion: fellowes let's be gon

Hor. The motions good indeed, and be it so, Petruchio, I shal be
your Been venuto.

Exeunt.

Enter Katherina and Bianca.

Bian. Good sister wrong me not, nor wrong your self, To make a
bondmaide and a slaue of mee,

That I disdaine: but for these other goods, Vnbinde my hands, Ile pull
them off my selfe, Yea all my raiment, to my petticoate,

Or what you will command me, wil I do,

So well I know my dutie to my elders

Kate. Of all thy sutors heere I charge tel Whom thou lou'st best:
see thou dissemble not

Bianca. Beleeue me sister, of all the men aliue, I neuer yet beheld
that speciall face,

Which I could fancie, more then any other

Kate. Minion thou lyest: Is't not Hortensio?   Bian. If you affect
him sister, heere I sweare Ile pleade for you my selfe, but you shal
haue him

Kate. Oh then belike you fancie riches more, You wil haue Gremio to
keepe you faire

Bian. Is it for him you do enuie me so? Nay then you iest, and now I
wel perceiue You haue but iested with me all this while: I prethee
sister Kate, vntie my hands

Ka. If that be iest, then all the rest was so.

Strikes her

Enter Baptista.

Bap. Why how now Dame, whence growes this insolence? Bianca stand
aside, poore gyrle she weepes: Go ply thy Needle, meddle not with her.

For shame thou Hilding of a diuellish spirit, Why dost thou wrong her,
that did nere wrong thee? When did she crosse thee with a bitter word?
Kate. Her silence flouts me, and Ile be reueng'd.

Flies after Bianca

Bap. What in my sight? Bianca get thee in. Enter.

Kate. What will you not suffer me: Nay now I see She is your
treasure, she must haue a husband, I must dance bare-foot on her
wedding day, And for your loue to her, leade Apes in hell. Talke not to
me, I will go sit and weepe, Till I can finde occasion of reuenge

Bap. Was euer Gentleman thus greeu'd as I? But who comes heere.

Enter Gremio, Lucentio, in the habit of a meane man, Petruchio with

Tranio, with his boy bearing a Lute and Bookes.

Gre. Good morrow neighbour Baptista

Bap. Good morrow neighbour Gremio: God saue you Gentlemen

Pet. And you good sir: pray haue you not a daughter, cal'd Katerina,
faire and vertuous

Bap. I haue a daughter sir, cal'd Katerina

Gre. You are too blunt, go to it orderly

Pet. You wrong me signior Gremio, giue me leaue. I am a Gentleman of
Verona sir,

That hearing of her beautie, and her wit, Her affability and bashfull
modestie:

Her wondrous qualities, and milde behauiour, Am bold to shew my selfe a
forward guest

Within your house, to make mine eye the witnesse Of that report, which
I so oft haue heard, And for an entrance to my entertainment,

I do present you with a man of mine

Cunning in Musicke, and the Mathematickes, To instruct her fully in
those sciences,

Whereof I know she is not ignorant,

Accept of him, or else you do me wrong.

His name is Litio, borne in Mantua

Bap. Y'are welcome sir, and he for your good sake. But for my
daughter Katerine, this I know, She is not for your turne, the more my
greefe

Pet. I see you do not meane to part with her, Or else you like not
of my companie

Bap. Mistake me not, I speake but as I finde, Whence are you sir?
What may I call your name

Pet. Petruchio is my name, Antonio's sonne, A man well knowne
throughout all Italy

Bap. I know him well: you are welcome for his sake

Gre. Sauing your tale Petruchio, I pray let vs that are poore
petitioners speake too? Bacare, you are meruaylous forward

Pet. Oh, Pardon me signior Gremio, I would faine be doing

Gre. I doubt it not sir. But you will curse Your wooing neighbors:
this is a guift

Very gratefull, I am sure of it, to expresse The like kindnesse my
selfe, that haue beene More kindely beholding to you then any:

Freely giue vnto this yong Scholler, that hath Beene long studying at
Rhemes, as cunning In Greeke, Latine, and other Languages,

As the other in Musicke and Mathematickes: His name is Cambio: pray
accept his seruice

Bap. A thousand thankes signior Gremio: Welcome good Cambio. But
gentle sir,

Me thinkes you walke like a stranger,

May I be so bold, to know the cause of your comming?   Tra. Pardon me
sir, the boldnesse is mine owne, That being a stranger in this Cittie
heere, Do make my selfe a sutor to your daughter, Vnto Bianca, faire
and vertuous:

Nor is your firme resolue vnknowne to me, In the preferment of the
eldest sister.

This liberty is all that I request,

That vpon knowledge of my Parentage,

I may haue welcome 'mongst the rest that woo, And free accesse and
fauour as the rest.

And toward the education of your daughters: I heere bestow a simple
instrument,

And this small packet of Greeke and Latine bookes: If you accept them,
then their worth is great:   Bap. Lucentio is your name, of whence I
pray

Tra. Of Pisa sir, sonne to Vincentio

Bap. A mightie man of Pisa by report,

I know him well: you are verie welcome sir: Take you the Lute, and you
the set of bookes, You shall go see your Pupils presently.

Holla, within.

Enter a Seruant

Sirrah, leade these Gentlemen

To my daughters, and tell them both

These are their Tutors, bid them vse them well, We will go walke a
little in the Orchard, And then to dinner: you are passing welcome, And
so I pray you all to thinke your selues

Pet. Signior Baptista, my businesse asketh haste, And euerie day I
cannot come to woo,

You knew my father well, and in him me,

Left solie heire to all his Lands and goods, Which I haue bettered
rather then decreast, Then tell me, if I get your daughters loue, What
dowrie shall I haue with her to wife

Bap. After my death, the one halfe of my Lands, And in possession
twentie thousand Crownes

Pet. And for that dowrie, Ile assure her of Her widdow-hood, be it
that she suruiue me In all my Lands and Leases whatsoeuer,

Let specialties be therefore drawne betweene vs, That couenants may be
kept on either hand

Bap. I, when the speciall thing is well obtain'd, That is her loue:
for that is all in all

Pet. Why that is nothing: for I tell you father, I am as peremptorie
as she proud minded:

And where two raging fires meete together, They do consume the thing
that feedes their furie. Though little fire growes great with little
winde, Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all: So I to her, and
so she yeelds to me,

For I am rough, and woo not like a babe

Bap. Well maist thou woo, and happy be thy speed: But be thou arm'd
for some vnhappie words

Pet. I to the proofe, as Mountaines are for windes, That shakes not,
though they blow perpetually. Enter Hortensio with his head broke.

Bap. How now my friend, why dost thou looke so pale?

Hor. For feare I promise you, if I looke pale

Bap. What, will my daughter proue a good Musitian?   Hor. I thinke
she'l sooner proue a souldier, Iron may hold with her, but neuer Lutes

Bap. Why then thou canst not break her to the Lute?   Hor. Why no,
for she hath broke the Lute to me: I did but tell her she mistooke her
frets, And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering, When (with a most
impatient diuellish spirit) Frets call you these? (quoth she) Ile fume
with them: And with that word she stroke me on the head, And through
the instrument my pate made way, And there I stood amazed for a while,

As on a Pillorie, looking through the Lute, While she did call me
Rascall, Fidler,

And twangling Iacke, with twentie such vilde tearmes, As had she
studied to misvse me so

Pet. Now by the world, it is a lustie Wench, I loue her ten times
more then ere I did, Oh how I long to haue some chat with her

Bap. Wel go with me, and be not so discomfited. Proceed in practise
with my yonger daughter, She's apt to learne, and thankefull for good
turnes: Signior Petruchio, will you go with vs,

Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you.

Exit. Manet Petruchio.

Pet. I pray you do. Ile attend her heere, And woo her with some
spirit when she comes, Say that she raile, why then Ile tell her
plaine, She sings as sweetly as a Nightinghale:

Say that she frowne, Ile say she lookes as cleere As morning Roses
newly washt with dew:

Say she be mute, and will not speake a word, Then Ile commend her
volubility,

And say she vttereth piercing eloquence:

If she do bid me packe, Ile giue her thankes, As though she bid me stay
by her a weeke: If she denie to wed, Ile craue the day

When I shall aske the banes, and when be married. But heere she comes,
and now Petruchio speake.

Enter Katerina

Good morrow Kate, for thats your name I heare

Kate. Well haue you heard, but something hard of hearing:

They call me Katerine, that do talke of me

Pet. You lye infaith, for you are call'd plaine Kate, And bony Kate,
and sometimes Kate the curst: But Kate, the prettiest Kate in
Christendome, Kate of Kate-hall, my super-daintie Kate, For dainties
are all Kates, and therefore Kate Take this of me, Kate of my
consolation,

Hearing thy mildnesse prais'd in euery Towne, Thy vertues spoke of, and
thy beautie sounded, Yet not so deepely as to thee belongs,

My selfe am moou'd to woo thee for my wife

Kate. Mou'd, in good time, let him that mou'd you hether

Remoue you hence: I knew you at the first You were a mouable

Pet. Why, what's a mouable?

Kat. A ioyn'd stoole

Pet. Thou hast hit it: come sit on me

Kate. Asses are made to beare, and so are you

Pet. Women are made to beare, and so are you

Kate. No such Iade as you, if me you meane

Pet. Alas good Kate, I will not burthen thee, For knowing thee to be
but yong and light

Kate. Too light for such a swaine as you to catch, And yet as heauie
as my waight should be

Pet. Shold be, should: buzze

Kate. Well tane, and like a buzzard

Pet. Oh slow-wing'd Turtle, shal a buzard take thee?   Kat. I for a
Turtle, as he takes a buzard

Pet. Come, come you Waspe, y'faith you are too angrie

Kate. If I be waspish, best beware my sting

Pet. My remedy is then to plucke it out

Kate. I, if the foole could finde it where it lies

Pet. Who knowes not where a Waspe does weare his sting? In his
taile

Kate. In his tongue?

Pet. Whose tongue

Kate. Yours if you talke of tales, and so farewell

Pet. What with my tongue in your taile. Nay, come againe, good Kate,
I am a Gentleman,   Kate. That Ile trie.

She strikes him

Pet. I sweare Ile cuffe you, if you strike againe

Kate. So may you loose your armes,

If you strike me, you are no Gentleman,

And if no Gentleman, why then no armes

Pet. A Herald Kate? Oh put me in thy bookes

Kate. What is your Crest, a Coxcombe?

Pet. A comblesse Cocke, so Kate will be my Hen

Kate. No Cocke of mine, you crow too like a crauen   Pet. Nay come
Kate, come: you must not looke so sowre

Kate. It is my fashion when I see a Crab

Pet. Why heere's no crab, and therefore looke not sowre

Kate. There is, there is

Pet. Then shew it me

Kate. Had I a glasse, I would

Pet. What, you meane my face

Kate. Well aym'd of such a yong one

Pet. Now by S[aint]. George I am too yong for you

Kate. Yet you are wither'd

Pet. 'Tis with cares

Kate. I care not

Pet. Nay heare you Kate. Insooth you scape not so

Kate. I chafe you if I tarrie. Let me go

Pet. No, not a whit, I finde you passing gentle: 'Twas told me you
were rough, and coy, and sullen, And now I finde report a very liar:

For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous, But slow in speech:
yet sweet as spring-time flowers. Thou canst not frowne, thou canst not
looke a sconce, Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,

Nor hast thou pleasure to be crosse in talke: But thou with mildnesse
entertain'st thy wooers, With gentle conference, soft, and affable. Why
does the world report that Kate doth limpe? Oh sland'rous world: Kate
like the hazle twig Is straight, and slender, and as browne in hue As
hazle nuts, and sweeter then the kernels: Oh let me see thee walke:
thou dost not halt

Kate. Go foole, and whom thou keep'st command

Pet. Did euer Dian so become a Groue

As Kate this chamber with her princely gate: O be thou Dian, and let
her be Kate,

And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportfull

Kate. Where did you study all this goodly speech?   Petr. It is
extempore, from my mother wit

Kate. A witty mother, witlesse else her sonne

Pet. Am I not wise?

Kat. Yes, keepe you warme

Pet. Marry so I meane sweet Katherine in thy bed: And therefore
setting all this chat aside, Thus in plaine termes: your father hath
consented That you shall be my wife; your dowry greed on, And will you,
nill you, I will marry you. Now Kate, I am a husband for your turne,

For by this light, whereby I see thy beauty, Thy beauty that doth make
me like thee well, Thou must be married to no man but me,

Enter Baptista, Gremio, Trayno.

For I am he am borne to tame you Kate,

And bring you from a wilde Kate to a Kate Conformable as other houshold
Kates:

Heere comes your father, neuer make deniall, I must, and will haue
Katherine to my wife

Bap. Now Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?   Pet.
How but well sir? how but well?

It were impossible I should speed amisse

Bap. Why how now daughter Katherine, in your dumps?   Kat. Call you
me daughter? now I promise you You haue shewd a tender fatherly
regard,

To wish me wed to one halfe Lunaticke,

A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Iacke,

That thinkes with oathes to face the matter out

Pet. Father, 'tis thus, your selfe and all the world That talk'd of
her, haue talk'd amisse of her: If she be curst, it is for pollicie,

For shee's not froward, but modest as the Doue, Shee is not hot, but
temperate as the morne, For patience shee will proue a second Grissell,
And Romane Lucrece for her chastitie:

And to conclude, we haue greed so well together, That vpon sonday is
the wedding day

Kate. Ile see thee hang'd on sonday first

Gre. Hark Petruchio, she saies shee'll see thee hang'd first

Tra. Is this your speeding? nay the[n] godnight our part

Pet. Be patient gentlemen, I choose her for my selfe, If she and I
be pleas'd, what's that to you? 'Tis bargain'd twixt vs twaine being
alone, That she shall still be curst in company. I tell you 'tis
incredible to beleeue

How much she loues me: oh the kindest Kate, Shee hung about my necke,
and kisse on kisse Shee vi'd so fast, protesting oath on oath, That in
a twinke she won me to her loue.

Oh you are nouices, 'tis a world to see

How tame when men and women are alone,

A meacocke wretch can make the curstest shrew: Giue me thy hand Kate, I
will vnto Venice To buy apparell 'gainst the wedding day;

Prouide the feast father, and bid the guests, I will be sure my
Katherine shall be fine

Bap. I know not what to say, but giue me your ha[n]ds, God send you
ioy, Petruchio, 'tis a match

Gre. Tra. Amen say we, we will be witnesses

Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen adieu, I will to Venice, sonday
comes apace,

We will haue rings, and things, and fine array, And kisse me Kate, we
will be married a sonday.

Exit Petruchio and Katherine.

Gre. Was euer match clapt vp so sodainly?   Bap. Faith Gentlemen now
I play a marchants part, And venture madly on a desperate Mart

Tra. Twas a commodity lay fretting by you, 'Twill bring you gaine,
or perish on the seas

Bap. The gaine I seeke, is quiet me the match

Gre. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch: But now Baptista, to
your yonger daughter, Now is the day we long haue looked for,

I am your neighbour, and was suter first

Tra. And I am one that loue Bianca more Then words can witnesse, or
your thoughts can guesse

Gre. Yongling thou canst not loue so deare as I

Tra. Gray-beard thy loue doth freeze

Gre. But thine doth frie,

Skipper stand backe, 'tis age that nourisheth

Tra. But youth in Ladies eyes that florisheth

Bap. Content you gentlemen, I wil co[m]pound this strife 'Tis deeds
must win the prize, and he of both That can assure my daughter greatest
dower, Shall haue my Biancas loue.

Say signior Gremio, what can you assure her?   Gre. First, as you know,
my house within the City Is richly furnished with plate and gold,

Basons and ewers to laue her dainty hands: My hangings all of tirian
tapestry:

In Iuory cofers I haue stuft my crownes:

In Cypres chests my arras counterpoints,

Costly apparell, tents, and Canopies,

Fine Linnen, Turky cushions bost with pearle, Vallens of Venice gold,
in needle worke:

Pewter and brasse, and all things that belongs To house or
house-keeping: then at my farme I haue a hundred milch-kine to the
pale,

Sixe-score fat Oxen standing in my stalls, And all things answerable to
this portion. My selfe am strooke in yeeres I must confesse, And if I
die to morrow this is hers,

If whil'st I liue she will be onely mine

Tra. That only came well in: sir, list to me, I am my fathers heyre
and onely sonne,

If I may haue your daughter to my wife,

Ile leaue her houses three or foure as good Within rich Pisa walls, as
any one

Old Signior Gremio has in Padua,

Besides, two thousand Duckets by the yeere Of fruitfull land, all which
shall be her ioynter. What, haue I pincht you Signior Gremio?

Gre. Two thousand Duckets by the yeere of land, My Land amounts not
to so much in all:

That she shall haue, besides an Argosie

That now is lying in Marcellus roade:

What, haue I choakt you with an Argosie?

Tra. Gremio, 'tis knowne my father hath no lesse Then three great
Argosies, besides two Galliasses And twelue tite Gallies, these I will
assure her, And twice as much what ere thou offrest next

Gre. Nay, I haue offred all, I haue no more, And she can haue no
more then all I haue, If you like me, she shall haue me and mine

Tra. Why then the maid is mine from all the world By your firme
promise, Gremio is out-vied

Bap. I must confesse your offer is the best, And let your father
make her the assurance, Shee is your owne, else you must pardon me: If
you should die before him, where's her dower?   Tra. That's but a
cauill: he is olde, I young

Gre. And may not yong men die as well as old?   Bap. Well gentlemen,
I am thus resolu'd, On sonday next, you know

My daughter Katherine is to be married:

Now on the sonday following, shall Bianca Be Bride to you, if you make
this assurance: If not, to Signior Gremio:

And so I take my leaue, and thanke you both. Enter.

Gre. Adieu good neighbour: now I feare thee not: Sirra, yong
gamester, your father were a foole To giue thee all, and in his wayning
age

Set foot vnder thy table: tut, a toy,

An olde Italian foxe is not so kinde my boy. Enter.

Tra. A vengeance on your crafty withered hide, Yet I haue fac'd it
with a card of ten:

'Tis in my head to doe my master good:

I see no reason but suppos'd Lucentio

Must get a father, call'd suppos'd Vincentio, And that's a wonder:
fathers commonly

Doe get their children: but in this case of woing, A childe shall get a
sire, if I faile not of my cunning. Enter.



Actus Tertia.

Enter Lucentio, Hortentio, and Bianca.

Luc. Fidler forbeare, you grow too forward Sir, Haue you so soone
forgot the entertainment Her sister Katherine welcom'd you withall

Hort. But wrangling pedant, this is

The patronesse of heauenly harmony:

Then giue me leaue to haue prerogatiue,

And when in Musicke we haue spent an houre, Your Lecture shall haue
leisure for as much

Luc. Preposterous Asse that neuer read so farre, To know the cause
why musicke was ordain'd: Was it not to refresh the minde of man

After his studies, or his vsuall paine?

Then giue me leaue to read Philosophy,

And while I pause, serue in your harmony

Hort. Sirra, I will not beare these braues of thine

Bianc. Why gentlemen, you doe me double wrong, To striue for that
which resteth in my choice: I am no breeching scholler in the schooles,
Ile not be tied to howres, nor pointed times, But learne my Lessons as
I please my selfe, And to cut off all strife: heere sit we downe, Take
you your instrument, play you the whiles, His Lecture will be done ere
you haue tun'd

Hort. You'll leaue his Lecture when I am in tune?   Luc. That will
be neuer, tune your instrument

Bian. Where left we last?

Luc. Heere Madam: Hic Ibat Simois, hic est sigeria tellus, hic
steterat Priami regia Celsa senis

Bian. Conster them

Luc. Hic Ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio, hic est,
sonne vnto Vincentio of Pisa, Sigeria tellus, disguised thus to get
your loue, hic steterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing, priami,
is my man Tranio, regia, bearing my port, celsa senis that we might
beguile the old Pantalowne

Hort. Madam, my Instrument's in tune

Bian. Let's heare, oh fie, the treble iarres

Luc. Spit in the hole man, and tune againe

Bian. Now let mee see if I can conster it. Hic ibat simois, I know
you not, hic est sigeria tellus, I trust you not, hic staterat priami,
take heede he heare vs not, regia presume not, Celsa senis, despaire
not

Hort. Madam, tis now in tune

Luc. All but the base

Hort. The base is right, 'tis the base knaue that iars

Luc. How fiery and forward our Pedant is, Now for my life the knaue
doth court my loue, Pedascule, Ile watch you better yet:

In time I may beleeue, yet I mistrust

Bian. Mistrust it not, for sure Aeacides Was Aiax cald so from his
grandfather

Hort. I must beleeue my master, else I promise you, I should be
arguing still vpon that doubt, But let it rest, now Litio to you:

Good master take it not vnkindly pray

That I haue beene thus pleasant with you both

Hort. You may go walk, and giue me leaue a while, My Lessons make no
musicke in three parts

Luc. Are you so formall sir, well I must waite And watch withall,
for but I be deceiu'd, Our fine Musitian groweth amorous

Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument, To learne the order of
my fingering,

I must begin with rudiments of Art,

To teach you gamoth in a briefer sort,

More pleasant, pithy, and effectuall,

Then hath beene taught by any of my trade, And there it is in writing
fairely drawne

Bian. Why, I am past my gamouth long agoe

Hor. Yet read the gamouth of Hortentio

Bian. Gamouth I am, the ground of all accord: Are, to plead
Hortensio's passion:

Beeme, Bianca take him for thy Lord

Cfavt, that loues with all affection:

D sol re, one Cliffe, two notes haue I,

Ela mi, show pitty or I die,

Call you this gamouth? tut I like it not, Old fashions please me best,
I am not so nice To charge true rules for old inuentions.

Enter a Messenger.

Nicke. Mistresse, your father prayes you leaue your books, And helpe
to dresse your sisters chamber vp, You know to morrow is the wedding
day

Bian. Farewell sweet masters both, I must be gone

Luc. Faith Mistresse then I haue no cause to stay

Hor. But I haue cause to pry into this pedant, Methinkes he lookes
as though he were in loue: Yet if thy thoughts Bianca be so humble

To cast thy wandring eyes on euery stale: Seize thee that List, if once
I finde thee ranging, Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing.
Enter.

Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Katherine, Bianca, and others,
attendants.

Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the pointed day That Katherine and
Petruchio should be married, And yet we heare not of our sonne in Law:
What will be said, what mockery will it be? To want the Bride-groome
when the Priest attends To speake the ceremoniall rites of marriage?
What saies Lucentio to this shame of ours?   Kate. No shame but mine, I
must forsooth be forst To giue my hand oppos'd against my heart

Vnto a mad-braine rudesby, full of spleene, Who woo'd in haste, and
meanes to wed at leysure: I told you I, he was a franticke foole,

Hiding his bitter iests in blunt behauiour, And to be noted for a merry
man;

Hee'll wooe a thousand, point the day of marriage, Make friends,
inuite, and proclaime the banes, Yet neuer meanes to wed where he hath
woo'd: Now must the world point at poore Katherine, And say, loe, there
is mad Petruchio's wife If it would please him come and marry her

Tra. Patience good Katherine and Baptista too, Vpon my life
Petruchio meanes but well,

What euer fortune stayes him from his word, Though he be blunt, I know
him passing wise, Though he be merry, yet withall he's honest

Kate. Would Katherine had neuer seen him though.

Exit weeping.

Bap. Goe girle, I cannot blame thee now to weepe, For such an iniurie
would vexe a very saint, Much more a shrew of impatient humour.

Enter Biondello.

Bion. Master, master, newes, and such newes as you neuer heard of,

Bap. Is it new and olde too? how may that be?   Bion. Why, is it not
newes to heard of Petruchio's comming?   Bap. Is he come?

Bion. Why no sir

Bap. What then?

Bion. He is comming

Bap. When will he be heere?

Bion. When he stands where I am, and sees you there

Tra. But say, what to thine olde newes?   Bion. Why Petruchio is
comming, in a new hat and an old ierkin, a paire of old breeches thrice
turn'd; a paire of bootes that haue beene candle-cases, one buckled,
another lac'd: an olde rusty sword tane out of the Towne Armory, with a
broken hilt, and chapelesse: with two broken points: his horse hip'd
with an olde mothy saddle, and stirrops of no kindred: besides possest
with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine, troubled with the
Lampasse, infected with the fashions, full of Windegalls, sped with
Spauins, raied with the Yellowes, past cure of the Fiues, starke
spoyl'd with the Staggers, begnawne with the Bots, Waid in the backe,
and shoulder-shotten, neere leg'd before, and with a halfe-chekt Bitte,
& a headstall of sheepes leather, which being restrain'd to keepe him
from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repaired with knots: one
girth sixe times peec'd, and a womans Crupper of velure, which hath two
letters for her name, fairely set down in studs, and heere and there
peec'd with packthred

Bap. Who comes with him?

Bion. Oh sir, his Lackey, for all the world Caparison'd like the
horse: with a linnen stock on one leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the
other, gartred with a red and blew list; an old hat, & the humor of
forty fancies prickt in't for a feather: a monster, a very monster in
apparell, & not like a Christian foot-boy, or a gentlemans Lacky

Tra. 'Tis some od humor pricks him to this fashion, Yet oftentimes
he goes but meane apparel'd

Bap. I am glad he's come, howsoere he comes

Bion. Why sir, he comes not

Bap. Didst thou not say hee comes?

Bion. Who, that Petruchio came?

Bap. I, that Petruchio came

Bion. No sir, I say his horse comes with him on his backe

Bap. Why that's all one

Bion. Nay by S[aint]. Iamy, I hold you a penny, a horse and a man is
more then one, and yet not many. Enter Petruchio and Grumio.

Pet. Come, where be these gallants? who's at home?   Bap. You are
welcome sir

Petr. And yet I come not well

Bap. And yet you halt not

Tra. Not so well apparell'd as I wish you were

Petr. Were it better I should rush in thus: But where is Kate? where
is my louely Bride? How does my father? gentles methinkes you frowne,
And wherefore gaze this goodly company,

As if they saw some wondrous monument,

Some Commet, or vnusuall prodigie?

Bap. Why sir, you know this is your wedding day: First were we sad,
fearing you would not come, Now sadder that you come so vnprouided:

Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate, An eye-sore to our solemne
festiuall

Tra. And tell vs what occasion of import Hath all so long detain'd
you from your wife, And sent you hither so vnlike your selfe?   Petr.
Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to heare, Sufficeth I am come to
keepe my word,

Though in some part inforced to digresse, Which at more leysure I will
so excuse,

As you shall well be satisfied with all.

But where is Kate? I stay too long from her, The morning weares, 'tis
time we were at Church

Tra. See not your Bride in these vnreuerent robes, Goe to my
chamber, put on clothes of mine

Pet. Not I, beleeue me, thus Ile visit her

Bap. But thus I trust you will not marry her

Pet. Good sooth euen thus: therefore ha done with words, To me she's
married, not vnto my cloathes: Could I repaire what she will weare in
me, As I can change these poore accoutrements, 'Twere well for Kate,
and better for my selfe. But what a foole am I to chat with you,

When I should bid good morrow to my Bride? And seale the title with a
louely kisse.

Enter.

Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad attire, We will perswade him be
it possible,

To put on better ere he goe to Church

Bap. Ile after him, and see the euent of this. Enter.

Tra. But sir, Loue concerneth vs to adde Her fathers liking, which to
bring to passe As before imparted to your worship,

I am to get a man what ere he be,

It skills not much, weele fit him to our turne, And he shall be
Vincentio of Pisa,

And make assurance heere in Padua

Of greater summes then I haue promised,

So shall you quietly enioy your hope,

And marry sweet Bianca with consent

Luc. Were it not that my fellow schoolemaster Doth watch Bianca's
steps so narrowly:

'Twere good me-thinkes to steale our marriage, Which once perform'd,
let all the world say no, Ile keepe mine owne despite of all the world

Tra. That by degrees we meane to looke into, And watch our vantage
in this businesse,

Wee'll ouer-reach the grey-beard Gremio,

The narrow prying father Minola,

The quaint Musician, amorous Litio,

All for my Masters sake Lucentio.

Enter Gremio.

Signior Gremio, came you from the Church?   Gre. As willingly as ere I
came from schoole

Tra. And is the Bride & Bridegroom coming home?   Gre. A bridegroome
say you? 'tis a groome indeed, A grumlling groome, and that the girle
shall finde

Tra. Curster then she, why 'tis impossible

Gre. Why hee's a deuill, a deuill, a very fiend

Tra. Why she's a deuill, a deuill, the deuils damme

Gre. Tut, she's a Lambe, a Doue, a foole to him: Ile tell you sir
Lucentio; when the Priest Should aske if Katherine should be his wife,
I, by goggs woones quoth he, and swore so loud, That all amaz'd the
Priest let fall the booke, And as he stoop'd againe to take it vp,

This mad-brain'd bridegroome tooke him such a cuffe, That downe fell
Priest and booke, and booke and Priest, Now take them vp quoth he, if
any list

Tra. What said the wench when he rose againe?   Gre. Trembled and
shooke: for why, he stamp'd and swore, as if the Vicar meant to cozen
him: but after many ceremonies done, hee calls for wine, a health quoth
he, as if he had beene aboord carowsing to his Mates after a storme,
quaft off the Muscadell, and threw the sops all in the Sextons face:
hauing no other reason, but that his beard grew thinne and hungerly,
and seem'd to aske him sops as hee was drinking: This done, hee tooke
the Bride about the necke, and kist her lips with such a clamorous
smacke, that at the parting all the Church did eccho: and I seeing
this, came thence for very shame, and after mee I know the rout is
comming, such a mad marryage neuer was before: harke, harke, I heare
the minstrels play.

Musicke playes.

Enter Petruchio, Kate, Bianca, Hortensio, Baptista.

Petr. Gentlemen & friends, I thank you for your pains, I know you
thinke to dine with me to day, And haue prepar'd great store of wedding
cheere, But so it is, my haste doth call me hence, And therefore heere
I meane to take my leaue

Bap. Is't possible you will away to night?   Pet. I must away to day
before night come, Make it no wonder: if you knew my businesse, You
would intreat me rather goe then stay: And honest company, I thanke you
all,

That haue beheld me giue away my selfe

To this most patient, sweet, and vertuous wife, Dine with my father,
drinke a health to me, For I must hence, and farewell to you all

Tra. Let vs intreat you stay till after dinner

Pet. It may not be

Gra. Let me intreat you

Pet. It cannot be

Kat. Let me intreat you

Pet. I am content

Kat. Are you content to stay?

Pet. I am content you shall entreat me stay, But yet not stay,
entreat me how you can

Kat. Now if you loue me stay

Pet. Grumio, my horse

Gru. I sir, they be ready, the Oates haue eaten the horses

Kate. Nay then,

Doe what thou canst, I will not goe to day, No, nor to morrow, not till
I please my selfe, The dore is open sir, there lies your way, You may
be iogging whiles your bootes are greene: For me, Ile not be gone till
I please my selfe, 'Tis like you'll proue a iolly surly groome, That
take it on you at the first so roundly

Pet. O Kate content thee, prethee be not angry

Kat. I will be angry, what hast thou to doe? Father, be quiet, he
shall stay my leisure

Gre. I marry sir, now it begins to worke

Kat. Gentlemen, forward to the bridall dinner, I see a woman may be
made a foole

If she had not a spirit to resist

Pet. They shall goe forward Kate at thy command, Obey the Bride you
that attend on her.

Goe to the feast, reuell and domineere,

Carowse full measure to her maiden-head,

Be madde and merry, or goe hang your selues: But for my bonny Kate, she
must with me:

Nay, looke not big, nor stampe, not stare, nor fret, I will be master
of what is mine owne,

Shee is my goods, my chattels, she is my house, My houshold-stuffe, my
field, my barne,

My horse, my oxe, my asse, my any thing,

And heere she stands, touch her who euer dare, Ile bring mine action on
the proudest he

That stops my way in Padua: Grumio

Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with theeues, Rescue thy Mistresse
if thou be a man:

Feare not sweet wench, they shall not touch thee Kate, Ile buckler thee
against a Million.

Exeunt. P. Ka.

Bap. Nay, let them goe, a couple of quiet ones

Gre. Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing

Tra. Of all mad matches neuer was the like

Luc. Mistresse, what's your opinion of your sister?   Bian. That
being mad her selfe, she's madly mated

Gre. I warrant him Petruchio is Kated

Bap. Neighbours and friends, though Bride & Bridegroom wants For to
supply the places at the table,

You know there wants no iunkets at the feast: Lucentio, you shall
supply the Bridegroomes place, And let Bianca take her sisters roome

Tra. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it?   Bap. She shall
Lucentio: come gentlemen lets goe. Enter Grumio.



Exeunt.

Gru. Fie, fie on all tired Iades, on all mad Masters, & all foule
waies: was euer man so beaten? was euer man so raide? was euer man so
weary? I am sent before to make a fire, and they are comming after to
warme them: now were not I a little pot, & soone hot; my very lippes
might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roofe of my mouth, my heart
in my belly, ere I should come by a fire to thaw me, but I with blowing
the fire shall warme my selfe: for considering the weather, a taller
man then I will take cold: Holla, hoa Curtis.

Enter Curtis.

Curt. Who is that calls so coldly?

Gru. A piece of Ice: if thou doubt it, thou maist slide from my
shoulder to my heele, with no greater a run but my head and my necke. A
fire good Curtis

Cur. Is my master and his wife comming Grumio?   Gru. Oh I Curtis I,
and therefore fire, fire, cast on no water

Cur. Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported

Gru. She was good Curtis before this frost: but thou know'st winter
tames man, woman, and beast: for it hath tam'd my old master, and my
new mistris, and my selfe fellow Curtis

Gru. Away you three inch foole, I am no beast

Gru. Am I but three inches? Why thy horne is a foot and so long am I
at the least. But wilt thou make a fire, or shall I complaine on thee
to our mistris, whose hand (she being now at hand) thou shalt soone
feele, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office

Cur. I prethee good Grumio, tell me, how goes the world?

Gru. A cold world Curtis in euery office but thine, & therefore fire:
do thy duty, and haue thy dutie, for my Master and mistris are almost
frozen to death

Cur. There's fire readie, and therefore good Grumio the newes

Gru. Why Iacke boy, ho boy, and as much newes as wilt thou

Cur. Come, you are so full of conicatching

Gru. Why therefore fire, for I haue caught extreme cold. Where's the
Cooke, is supper ready, the house trim'd, rushes strew'd, cobwebs
swept, the seruingmen in their new fustian, the white stockings, and
euery officer his wedding garment on? Be the Iackes faire within, the
Gils faire without, the Carpets laide, and euerie thing in order?

Cur. All readie: and therefore I pray thee newes

Gru. First know my horse is tired, my master & mistris falne out

Cur. How?

Gru. Out of their saddles into the durt, and thereby hangs a tale

Cur. Let's ha't good Grumio

Gru. Lend thine eare

Cur. Heere

Gru. There

Cur. This 'tis to feele a tale, not to heare a tale

Gru. And therefore 'tis cal'd a sensible tale: and this Cuffe was
but to knocke at your eare, and beseech listning: now I begin, Inprimis
wee came downe a fowle hill, my Master riding behinde my Mistris

Cur. Both of one horse?

Gru. What's that to thee?

Cur. Why a horse

Gru. Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not crost me, thou shouldst
haue heard how her horse fel, and she vnder her horse: thou shouldst
haue heard in how miery a place, how she was bemoil'd, how hee left her
with the horse vpon her, how he beat me because her horse stumbled, how
she waded through the durt to plucke him off me: how he swore, how she
prai'd, that neuer prai'd before: how I cried, how the horses ranne
away, how her bridle was burst: how I lost my crupper, with manie
things of worthy memorie, which now shall die in obliuion, and thou
returne vnexperienc'd to thy graue

Cur. By this reckning he is more shrew than she

Gru. I, and that thou and the proudest of you all shall finde when
he comes home. But what talke I of this? Call forth Nathaniel, Ioseph,
Nicholas, Phillip, Walter, Sugersop and the rest: let their heads bee
slickely comb'd, their blew coats brush'd, and their garters of an
indifferent knit, let them curtsie with their left legges, and not
presume to touch a haire of my Masters horse-taile, till they kisse
their hands. Are they all readie?   Cur. They are

Gru. Call them forth

Cur. Do you heare ho? you must meete my maister to countenance my
mistris

Gru. Why she hath a face of her owne

Cur. Who knowes not that?

Gru. Thou it seemes, that cals for company to countenance her

Cur. I call them forth to credit her.

Enter foure or fiue seruingmen.

Gru. Why she comes to borrow nothing of them

Nat. Welcome home Grumio

Phil. How now Grumio

Ios. What Grumio

Nick. Fellow Grumio

Nat. How now old lad

Gru. Welcome you: how now you: what you: fellow you: and thus much
for greeting. Now my spruce companions, is all readie, and all things
neate?   Nat. All things is readie, how neere is our master?   Gre.
E'ne at hand, alighted by this: and therefore be not- Cockes passion,
silence, I heare my master. Enter Petruchio and Kate.

Pet. Where be these knaues? What no man at doore To hold my stirrop,
nor to take my horse? Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Phillip

All ser. Heere, heere sir, heere sir

Pet. Heere sir, heere sir, heere sir, heere sir. You logger-headed
and vnpollisht groomes: What? no attendance? no regard? no dutie? Where
is the foolish knaue I sent before?   Gru. Heere sir, as foolish as I
was before

Pet. You pezant, swain, you horson malt-horse drudg Did I not bid
thee meete me in the Parke, And bring along these rascal knaues with
thee?   Grumio. Nathaniels coate sir was not fully made, And Gabrels
pumpes were all vnpinkt i'th heele: There was no Linke to colour Peters
hat,

And Walters dagger was not come from sheathing: There were none fine,
but Adam, Rafe, and Gregory, The rest were ragged, old, and beggerly,

Yet as they are, heere are they come to meete you

Pet. Go rascals, go, and fetch my supper in.

Ex. Ser.

Where is the life that late I led?

Where are those? Sit downe Kate,

And welcome. Soud, soud, soud, soud.

Enter seruants with supper.

Why when I say? Nay good sweete Kate be merrie. Off with my boots, you
rogues: you villaines, when? It was the Friar of Orders gray,

As he forth walked on his way.

Out you rogue, you plucke my foote awrie, Take that, and mend the
plucking of the other. Be merrie Kate: Some water heere: what hoa.
Enter one with water.

Where's my Spaniel Troilus? Sirra, get you hence, And bid my cozen
Ferdinand come hither:

One Kate that you must kisse, and be acquainted with. Where are my
Slippers? Shall I haue some water? Come Kate and wash, & welcome
heartily:

You horson villaine, will you let it fall?   Kate. Patience I pray you,
'twas a fault vnwilling

Pet. A horson beetle-headed flap-ear'd knaue: Come Kate sit downe, I
know you haue a stomacke, Will you giue thankes, sweete Kate, or else
shall I? What's this, Mutton?

1.Ser. I

Pet. Who brought it?

Peter. I

Pet. 'Tis burnt, and so is all the meate: What dogges are these?
Where is the rascall Cooke? How durst you villaines bring it from the
dresser And serue it thus to me that loue it not? There, take it to
you, trenchers, cups, and all: You heedlesse iolt-heads, and vnmanner'd
slaues. What, do you grumble? Ile be with you straight

Kate. I pray you husband be not so disquiet, The meate was well, if
you were so contented

Pet. I tell thee Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away, And I expressely
am forbid to touch it:

For it engenders choller, planteth anger, And better 'twere that both
of vs did fast, Since of our selues, our selues are chollericke, Then
feede it with such ouer-rosted flesh: Be patient, to morrow't shalbe
mended,

And for this night we'l fast for companie. Come I wil bring thee to thy
Bridall chamber.

Exeunt.

Enter Seruants seuerally.

Nath. Peter didst euer see the like

Peter. He kils her in her owne humor

Grumio. Where is he?

Enter Curtis a Seruant.

Cur. In her chamber, making a sermon of continencie to her, and
railes, and sweares, and rates, that shee (poore soule) knowes not
which way to stand, to looke, to speake, and sits as one new risen from
a dreame. Away, away, for he is comming hither.

Enter Petruchio.

Pet. Thus haue I politickely begun my reigne, And 'tis my hope to end
successefully:

My Faulcon now is sharpe, and passing emptie, And til she stoope, she
must not be full gorg'd, For then she neuer lookes vpon her lure.

Another way I haue to man my Haggard,

To make her come, and know her Keepers call: That is, to watch her, as
we watch these Kites, That baite, and beate, and will not be obedient:
She eate no meate to day, nor none shall eate. Last night she slept
not, nor to night she shall not: As with the meate, some vndeserued
fault

Ile finde about the making of the bed,

And heere Ile fling the pillow, there the boulster, This way the
Couerlet, another way the sheets: I, and amid this hurlie I intend,

That all is done in reuerend care of her, And in conclusion, she shal
watch all night, And if she chance to nod, Ile raile and brawle, And
with the clamor keepe her stil awake: This is a way to kil a Wife with
kindnesse, And thus Ile curbe her mad and headstrong humor: He that
knowes better how to tame a shrew, Now let him speake, 'tis charity to
shew.

Exit

Enter Tranio and Hortensio.

Tra. Is't possible friend Lisio, that mistris Bianca Doth fancie any
other but Lucentio,

I tel you sir, she beares me faire in hand

Luc. Sir, to satisfie you in what I haue said, Stand by, and marke
the manner of his teaching. Enter Bianca.

Hor. Now Mistris, profit you in what you reade?   Bian. What Master
reade you first, resolue me that?   Hor. I reade, that I professe the
Art to loue

Bian. And may you proue sir Master of your Art

Luc. While you sweet deere proue Mistresse of my heart

Hor. Quicke proceeders marry, now tel me I pray, you that durst
sweare that your Mistris Bianca Lou'd me in the World so wel as
Lucentio

Tra. Oh despightful Loue, vnconstant womankind, I tel thee Lisio
this is wonderfull

Hor. Mistake no more, I am not Lisio,

Nor a Musitian as I seeme to bee,

But one that scorne to liue in this disguise, For such a one as leaues
a Gentleman,

And makes a God of such a Cullion;

Know sir, that I am cal'd Hortensio

Tra. Signior Hortensio, I haue often heard Of your entire affection
to Bianca,

And since mine eyes are witnesse of her lightnesse, I wil with you, if
you be so contented,

Forsweare Bianca, and her loue for euer

Hor. See how they kisse and court: Signior Lucentio, Heere is my
hand, and heere I firmly vow

Neuer to woo her more, but do forsweare her As one vnworthie all the
former fauours

That I haue fondly flatter'd them withall

Tra. And heere I take the like vnfained oath, Neuer to marrie with
her, though she would intreate, Fie on her, see how beastly she doth
court him

Hor. Would all the world but he had quite forsworn For me, that I
may surely keepe mine oath. I wil be married to a wealthy Widdow,

Ere three dayes passe, which hath as long lou'd me, As I haue lou'd
this proud disdainful Haggard, And so farewel signior Lucentio,

Kindnesse in women, not their beauteous lookes Shal win my loue, and so
I take my leaue, In resolution, as I swore before

Tra. Mistris Bianca, blesse you with such grace, As longeth to a
Louers blessed case:

Nay, I haue tane you napping gentle Loue, And haue forsworne you with
Hortensio

Bian. Tranio you iest, but haue you both forsworne mee?

Tra. Mistris we haue

Luc. Then we are rid of Lisio

Tra. I'faith hee'l haue a lustie Widdow now, That shalbe woo'd, and
wedded in a day

Bian. God giue him ioy

Tra. I, and hee'l tame her

Bianca. He sayes so Tranio

Tra. Faith he is gone vnto the taming schoole

Bian. The taming schoole: what is there such a place?   Tra. I
mistris, and Petruchio is the master, That teacheth trickes eleuen and
twentie long, To tame a shrew, and charme her chattering tongue. Enter
Biondello.

Bion. Oh Master, master I haue watcht so long, That I am
dogge-wearie, but at last I spied An ancient Angel comming downe the
hill,

Wil serue the turne

Tra. What is he Biondello?

Bio. Master, a Marcantant, or a pedant, I know not what, but formall
in apparrell, In gate and countenance surely like a Father

Luc. And what of him Tranio?

Tra. If he be credulous, and trust my tale, Ile make him glad to
seeme Vincentio,

And giue assurance to Baptista Minola.

As if he were the right Vincentio

Par. Take me your loue, and then let me alone. Enter a Pedant.

Ped. God saue you sir

Tra. And you sir, you are welcome,

Trauaile you farre on, or are you at the farthest?   Ped. Sir at the
farthest for a weeke or two, But then vp farther, and as farre as Rome,
And so to Tripolie, if God lend me life

Tra. What Countreyman I pray?

Ped. Of Mantua

Tra. Of Mantua Sir, marrie God forbid, And come to Padua carelesse
of your life

Ped. My life sir? how I pray? for that goes hard

Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua

To come to Padua, know you not the cause? Your ships are staid at
Venice, and the Duke For priuate quarrel 'twixt your Duke and him, Hath
publish'd and proclaim'd it openly:

'Tis meruaile, but that you are but newly come, You might haue heard it
else proclaim'd about

Ped. Alas sir, it is worse for me then so, For I haue bils for monie
by exchange

From Florence, and must heere deliuer them

Tra. Wel sir, to do you courtesie,

This wil I do, and this I wil aduise you. First tell me, haue you euer
beene at Pisa?   Ped. I sir, in Pisa haue I often bin,

Pisa renowned for graue Citizens

Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio?   Ped. I know him not, but I
haue heard of him: A Merchant of incomparable wealth

Tra. He is my father sir, and sooth to say, In count'nance somewhat
doth resemble you

Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, & all one

Tra. To saue your life in this extremitie, This fauor wil I do you
for his sake,

And thinke it not the worst of all your fortunes, That you are like to
Sir Vincentio.

His name and credite shal you vndertake,

And in my house you shal be friendly lodg'd, Looke that you take vpon
you as you should, You vnderstand me sir: so shal you stay

Til you haue done your businesse in the Citie: If this be court'sie
sir, accept of it

Ped. Oh sir I do, and wil repute you euer The patron of my life and
libertie

Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter good, This by the way I let
you vnderstand,

My father is heere look'd for euerie day, To passe assurance of a dowre
in marriage 'Twixt me, and one Baptistas daughter heere: In all these
circumstances Ile instruct you, Go with me to cloath you as becomes
you.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Katherina and Grumio.

Gru. No, no forsooth I dare not for my life

Ka. The more my wrong, the more his spite appears. What, did he
marrie me to famish me?

Beggers that come vnto my fathers doore,

Vpon intreatie haue a present almes,

If not, elsewhere they meete with charitie: But I, who neuer knew how
to intreat,

Nor neuer needed that I should intreate,

Am staru'd for meate, giddie for lacke of sleepe: With oathes kept
waking, and with brawling fed, And that which spights me more then all
these wants, He does it vnder name of perfect loue:

As who should say, if I should sleepe or eate 'Twere deadly sicknesse,
or else present death. I prethee go, and get me some repast,

I care not what, so it be holsome foode

Gru. What say you to a Neats foote?

Kate. 'Tis passing good, I prethee let me haue it

Gru. I feare it is too chollericke a meate. How say you to a fat
Tripe finely broyl'd?   Kate. I like it well, good Grumio fetch it me

Gru. I cannot tell, I feare 'tis chollericke. What say you to a
peece of Beefe and Mustard?   Kate. A dish that I do loue to feede
vpon

Gru. I, but the Mustard is too hot a little

Kate. Why then the Beefe, and let the Mustard rest

Gru. Nay then I wil not, you shal haue the Mustard Or else you get
no beefe of Grumio

Kate. Then both or one, or any thing thou wilt

Gru. Why then the Mustard without the beefe

Kate. Go get thee gone, thou false deluding slaue,

Beats him.

That feed'st me with the verie name of meate. Sorrow on thee, and all
the packe of you

That triumph thus vpon my misery:

Go get thee gone, I say.

Enter Petruchio, and Hortensio with meate

Petr. How fares my Kate, what sweeting all amort?   Hor. Mistris,
what cheere?

Kate. Faith as cold as can be

Pet. Plucke vp thy spirits, looke cheerfully vpon me. Heere Loue,
thou seest how diligent I am, To dresse thy meate my selfe, and bring
it thee. I am sure sweet Kate, this kindnesse merites thankes. What,
not a word? Nay then, thou lou'st it not: And all my paines is sorted
to no proofe. Heere take away this dish

Kate. I pray you let it stand

Pet. The poorest seruice is repaide with thankes, And so shall mine
before you touch the meate

Kate. I thanke you sir

Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie you are too blame: Come Mistris Kate,
Ile beare you companie

Petr. Eate it vp all Hortensio, if thou louest mee: Much good do it
vnto thy gentle heart:

Kate eate apace; and now my honie Loue,

Will we returne vnto thy Fathers house,

And reuell it as brauely as the best,

With silken coats and caps, and golden Rings, With Ruffes and Cuffes,
and Fardingales, and things: With Scarfes, and Fannes, & double change
of brau'ry, With Amber Bracelets, Beades, and all this knau'ry. What
hast thou din'd? The Tailor staies thy leasure, To decke thy bodie with
his ruffling treasure. Enter Tailor.

Come Tailor, let vs see these ornaments.

Enter Haberdasher.

Lay forth the gowne. What newes with you sir?   Fel. Heere is the cap
your Worship did bespeake

Pet. Why this was moulded on a porrenger, A Veluet dish: Fie, fie,
'tis lewd and filthy, Why 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell,

A knacke, a toy, a tricke, a babies cap:

Away with it, come let me haue a bigger

Kate. Ile haue no bigger, this doth fit the time, And Gentlewomen
weare such caps as these

Pet. When you are gentle, you shall haue one too, And not till then

Hor. That will not be in hast

Kate. Why sir I trust I may haue leaue to speake, And speake I will.
I am no childe, no babe, Your betters haue indur'd me say my minde, And
if you cannot, best you stop your eares. My tongue will tell the anger
of my heart, Or els my heart concealing it wil breake, And rather then
it shall, I will be free, Euen to the vttermost as I please in words

Pet. Why thou saist true, it is paltrie cap, A custard coffen, a
bauble, a silken pie, I loue thee well in that thou lik'st it not

Kate. Loue me, or loue me not, I like the cap, And it I will haue,
or I will haue none

Pet. Thy gowne, why I: come Tailor let vs see't. Oh mercie God, what
masking stuffe is heere? Whats this? a sleeue? 'tis like demi cannon,
What, vp and downe caru'd like an apple Tart? Heers snip, and nip, and
cut, and slish and slash, Like to a Censor in a barbers shoppe:

Why what a deuils name Tailor cal'st thou this?   Hor. I see shees like
to haue neither cap nor gowne

Tai. You bid me make it orderlie and well, According to the fashion,
and the time

Pet. Marrie and did: but if you be remembred, I did not bid you
marre it to the time.

Go hop me ouer euery kennell home,

For you shall hop without my custome sir: Ile none of it; hence, make
your best of it

Kate. I neuer saw a better fashion'd gowne, More queint, more
pleasing, nor more commendable: Belike you meane to make a puppet of
me

Pet. Why true, he meanes to make a puppet of thee

Tail. She saies your Worship meanes to make a puppet of her

Pet. Oh monstrous arrogance:

Thou lyest, thou thred, thou thimble,

Thou yard three quarters, halfe yard, quarter, naile, Thou Flea, thou
Nit, thou winter cricket thou: Brau'd in mine owne house with a skeine
of thred: Away thou Ragge, thou quantitie, thou remnant, Or I shall so
be-mete thee with thy yard, As thou shalt thinke on prating whil'st
thou liu'st: I tell thee I, that thou hast marr'd her gowne

Tail. Your worship is deceiu'd, the gowne is made Iust as my master
had direction:

Grumio gaue order how it should be done

Gru. I gaue him no order, I gaue him the stuffe

Tail. But how did you desire it should be made?   Gru. Marrie sir
with needle and thred

Tail. But did you not request to haue it cut?   Gru. Thou hast fac'd
many things

Tail. I haue

Gru. Face not mee: thou hast brau'd manie men, braue not me; I will
neither bee fac'd nor brau'd. I say vnto thee, I bid thy Master cut out
the gowne, but I did not bid him cut it to peeces. Ergo thou liest

Tail. Why heere is the note of the fashion to testify

Pet. Reade it

Gru. The note lies in's throate if he say I said so

Tail. Inprimis, a loose bodied gowne

Gru. Master, if euer I said loose-bodied gowne, sow me in the skirts
of it, and beate me to death with a bottome of browne thred: I said a
gowne

Pet. Proceede

Tai. With a small compast cape

Gru. I confesse the cape

Tai. With a trunke sleeue

Gru. I confesse two sleeues

Tai. The sleeues curiously cut

Pet. I there's the villanie

Gru. Error i'th bill sir, error i'th bill? I commanded the sleeues
should be cut out, and sow'd vp againe, and that Ile proue vpon thee,
though thy little finger be armed in a thimble

Tail. This is true that I say, and I had thee in place where thou
shouldst know it

Gru. I am for thee straight: take thou the bill, giue me thy
meat-yard, and spare not me

Hor. God-a-mercie Grumio, then hee shall haue no oddes

Pet. Well sir in breefe the gowne is not for me

Gru. You are i'th right sir, 'tis for my mistris

Pet. Go take it vp vnto thy masters vse

Gru. Villaine, not for thy life: Take vp my Mistresse gowne for thy
masters vse

Pet. Why sir, what's your conceit in that?   Gru. Oh sir, the
conceit is deeper then you think for: Take vp my Mistris gowne to his
masters vse. Oh fie, fie, fie

Pet. Hortensio, say thou wilt see the Tailor paide: Go take it
hence, be gone, and say no more

Hor. Tailor, Ile pay thee for thy gowne to morrow, Take no
vnkindnesse of his hastie words:

Away I say, commend me to thy master.

Exit Tail.

Pet. Well, come my Kate, we will vnto your fathers, Euen in these
honest meane habiliments:

Our purses shall be proud, our garments poore: For 'tis the minde that
makes the bodie rich. And as the Sunne breakes through the darkest
clouds, So honor peereth in the meanest habit.

What is the Iay more precious then the Larke? Because his feathers are
more beautifull. Or is the Adder better then the Eele,

Because his painted skin contents the eye. Oh no good Kate: neither art
thou the worse For this poore furniture, and meane array. If thou
accountedst it shame, lay it on me, And therefore frolicke, we will
hence forthwith, To feast and sport vs at thy fathers house, Go call my
men, and let vs straight to him, And bring our horses vnto Long-lane
end,

There wil we mount, and thither walke on foote, Let's see, I thinke
'tis now some seuen a clocke, And well we may come there by dinner
time

Kate. I dare assure you sir, 'tis almost two, And 'twill be supper
time ere you come there

Pet. It shall be seuen ere I go to horse: Looke what I speake, or
do, or thinke to doe, You are still crossing it, sirs let't alone, I
will not goe to day, and ere I doe,

It shall be what a clock I say it is

Hor. Why so this gallant will command the sunne. Enter Tranio, and
the Pedant drest like Vincentio.

Tra. Sirs, this is the house, please it you that I call

Ped. I what else, and but I be deceiued, Signior Baptista may
remember me

Neere twentie yeares a goe in Genoa

Tra. Where we were lodgers, at the Pegasus, Tis well, and hold your
owne in any case

With such austeritie as longeth to a father. Enter Biondello.

Ped. I warrant you: but sir here comes your boy, 'Twere good he were
school'd

Tra. Feare you not him: sirra Biondello, Now doe your dutie
throughlie I aduise you: Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio

Bion. Tut, feare not me

Tra. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista

Bion. I told him that your father was at Venice, And that you look't
for him this day in Padua,   Tra. Th'art a tall fellow, hold thee that
to drinke, Here comes Baptista: set your countenance sir. Enter
Baptista and Lucentio: Pedant booted and bare headed.

Tra. Signior Baptista you are happilie met: Sir, this is the
gentleman I told you of, I pray you stand good father to me now,

Giue me Bianca for my patrimony

Ped. Soft son: sir by your leaue, hauing com to Padua To gather in
some debts, my son Lucentio

Made me acquainted with a waighty cause

Of loue betweene your daughter and himselfe: And for the good report I
heare of you,

And for the loue he beareth to your daughter, And she to him: to stay
him not too long, I am content in a good fathers care

To haue him matcht, and if you please to like No worse then I, vpon
some agreement

Me shall you finde readie and willing

With one consent to haue her so bestowed: For curious I cannot be with
you

Signior Baptista, of whom I heare so well

Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I haue to say, Your plainnesse and your
shortnesse please me well: Right true it is your sonne Lucentio here
Doth loue my daughter, and she loueth him, Or both dissemble deepely
their affections: And therefore if you say no more then this, That like
a Father you will deale with him, And passe my daughter a sufficient
dower, The match is made, and all is done,

Your sonne shall haue my daughter with consent

Tra. I thanke you sir, where then doe you know best We be affied and
such assurance tane,

As shall with either parts agreement stand

Bap. Not in my house Lucentio, for you know Pitchers haue eares, and
I haue manie seruants, Besides old Gremio is harkning still,

And happilie we might be interrupted

Tra. Then at my lodging, and it like you, There doth my father lie:
and there this night Weele passe the businesse priuately and well: Send
for your daughter by your seruant here, My Boy shall fetch the
Scriuener presentlie, The worst is this that at so slender warning, You
are like to haue a thin and slender pittance

Bap. It likes me well:

Cambio hie you home, and bid Bianca make her readie straight:

And if you will tell what hath hapned,

Lucentios Father is arriued in Padua,

And how she's like to be Lucentios wife

Biond. I praie the gods she may withall my heart. Enter.

Tran. Dallie not with the gods, but get thee gone. Enter Peter.

Signior Baptista, shall I leade the way,

Welcome, one messe is like to be your cheere, Come sir, we will better
it in Pisa

Bap. I follow you.

Exeunt.

Enter Lucentio and Biondello.

Bion. Cambio

Luc. What saist thou Biondello

Biond. You saw my Master winke and laugh vpon you?

Luc. Biondello, what of that?

Biond. Faith nothing: but has left mee here behinde to expound the
meaning or morrall of his signes and tokens

Luc. I pray thee moralize them

Biond. Then thus: Baptista is safe talking with the deceiuing Father
of a deceitfull sonne

Luc. And what of him?

Biond. His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper

Luc. And then

Bio. The old Priest at Saint Lukes Church is at your command at all
houres

Luc. And what of all this

Bion. I cannot tell, expect they are busied about a counterfeit
assurance: take you assurance of her, Cum preuilegio ad Impremendum
solem, to th' Church take the Priest, Clarke, and some sufficient
honest witnesses: If this be not that you looke for, I haue no more to
say, But bid Bianca farewell for euer and a day

Luc. Hear'st thou Biondello

Biond. I cannot tarry: I knew a wench maried in an afternoone as
shee went to the Garden for Parseley to stuffe a Rabit, and so may you
sir: and so adew sir, my Master hath appointed me to goe to Saint Lukes
to bid the Priest be readie to come against you come with your
appendix.

Enter.

Luc. I may and will, if she be so contented: She will be pleas'd,
then wherefore should I doubt: Hap what hap may, Ile roundly goe about
her: It shall goe hard if Cambio goe without her. Enter.

Enter Petruchio, Kate, Hortentio

Petr. Come on a Gods name, once more toward our fathers:

Good Lord how bright and goodly shines the Moone

Kate. The Moone, the Sunne: it is not Moonelight now

Pet. I say it is the Moone that shines so bright

Kate. I know it is the Sunne that shines so bright

Pet. Now by my mothers sonne, and that's my selfe, It shall be
moone, or starre, or what I list, Or ere I iourney to your Fathers
house:

Goe on, and fetch our horses backe againe, Euermore crost and crost,
nothing but crost

Hort. Say as he saies, or we shall neuer goe

Kate. Forward I pray, since we haue come so farre, And be it moone,
or sunne, or what you please: And if you please to call it a rush
Candle, Henceforth I vowe it shall be so for me

Petr. I say it is the Moone

Kate. I know it is the Moone

Petr. Nay then you lye: it is the blessed Sunne

Kate. Then God be blest, it is the blessed sun, But sunne it is not,
when you say it is not, And the Moone changes euen as your minde: What
you will haue it nam'd, euen that it is, And so it shall be so for
Katherine

Hort. Petruchio, goe thy waies, the field is won

Petr. Well, forward, forward, thus the bowle should run, And not
vnluckily against the Bias:

But soft, Company is comming here.

Enter Vincentio.

Good morrow gentle Mistris, where away:

Tell me sweete Kate, and tell me truely too, Hast thou beheld a fresher
Gentlewoman:

Such warre of white and red within her cheekes: What stars do spangle
heauen with such beautie, As those two eyes become that heauenly face?
Faire louely Maide, once more good day to thee: Sweete Kate embrace her
for her beauties sake

Hort. A will make the man mad to make the woman of him

Kate. Yong budding Virgin, faire, and fresh, & sweet, Whether away,
or whether is thy aboade?

Happy the Parents of so faire a childe;

Happier the man whom fauourable stars

A lots thee for his louely bedfellow

Petr. Why how now Kate, I hope thou art not mad, This is a man old,
wrinckled, faded, withered, And not a Maiden, as thou saist he is

Kate. Pardon old father my mistaking eies, That haue bin so bedazled
with the sunne, That euery thing I looke on seemeth greene: Now I
perceiue thou art a reuerent Father: Pardon I pray thee for my mad
mistaking

Petr. Do good old grandsire, & withall make known Which way thou
trauellest, if along with vs, We shall be ioyfull of thy companie

Vin. Faire Sir, and you my merry Mistris, That with your strange
encounter much amasde me: My name is call'd Vincentio, my dwelling
Pisa, And bound I am to Padua, there to visite

A sonne of mine, which long I haue not seene

Petr. What is his name?

Vinc. Lucentio gentle sir

Petr. Happily met, the happier for thy sonne: And now by Law, as
well as reuerent age,

I may intitle thee my louing Father,

The sister to my wife, this Gentlewoman,

Thy Sonne by this hath married: wonder not, Nor be not grieued, she is
of good esteeme, Her dowrie wealthie, and of worthie birth; Beside, so
qualified, as may beseeme

The Spouse of any noble Gentleman:

Let me imbrace with old Vincentio,

And wander we to see thy honest sonne,

Who will of thy arriuall be full ioyous

Vinc. But is this true, or is it else your pleasure, Like pleasant
trauailors to breake a Iest Vpon the companie you ouertake?

Hort. I doe assure thee father so it is

Petr. Come goe along and see the truth hereof, For our first
merriment hath made thee iealous.

Exeunt.

Hor. Well Petruchio, this has put me in heart; Haue to my Widdow, and
if she froward,

Then hast thou taught Hortentio to be vntoward. Enter.

Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianca, Gremio is out before.

Biond. Softly and swiftly sir, for the Priest is ready

Luc. I flie Biondello; but they may chance to neede thee at home,
therefore leaue vs.

Enter.

Biond. Nay faith, Ile see the Church a your backe, and then come
backe to my mistris as soone as I can

Gre. I maruaile Cambio comes not all this while. Enter Petruchio,
Kate, Vincentio, Grumio with Attendants.

Petr. Sir heres the doore, this is Lucentios house, My Fathers beares
more toward the Market-place, Thither must I, and here I leaue you sir

Vin. You shall not choose but drinke before you go, I thinke I shall
command your welcome here; And by all likelihood some cheere is
toward.

Knock.

Grem. They're busie within, you were best knocke lowder.

Pedant lookes out of the window.

Ped. What's he that knockes as he would beat downe the gate?

Vin. Is Signior Lucentio within sir?

Ped. He's within sir, but not to be spoken withall

Vinc. What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two to make merrie
withall

Ped. Keepe your hundred pounds to your selfe, hee shall neede none
so long as I liue

Petr. Nay, I told you your sonne was well beloued in Padua: doe you
heare sir, to leaue friuolous circumstances, I pray you tell signior
Lucentio that his Father is come from Pisa, and is here at the doore to
speake with him

Ped. Thou liest his Father is come from Padua, and here looking out
at the window

Vin. Art thou his father?

Ped. I sir, so his mother saies, if I may beleeue her

Petr. Why how now gentleman: why this is flat knauerie to take vpon
you another mans name

Peda. Lay hands on the villaine, I beleeue a meanes to cosen some
bodie in this Citie vnder my countenance. Enter Biondello.

Bio. I haue seene them in the Church together, God send 'em good
shipping: but who is here? mine old Master Vincentio: now wee are
vndone and brought to nothing

Vin. Come hither crackhempe

Bion. I hope I may choose Sir

Vin. Come hither you rogue, what haue you forgot mee?

Biond. Forgot you, no sir: I could not forget you, for I neuer saw
you before in all my life

Vinc. What, you notorious villaine, didst thou neuer see thy Mistris
father, Vincentio?

Bion. What my old worshipfull old master? yes marie sir see where he
lookes out of the window

Vin. Ist so indeede.

He beates Biondello.

Bion. Helpe, helpe, helpe, here's a mad man will murder me

Pedan. Helpe, sonne, helpe signior Baptista

Petr. Preethe Kate let's stand aside and see the end of this
controuersie.

Enter Pedant with seruants, Baptista, Tranio.

Tra. Sir, what are you that offer to beate my seruant?   Vinc. What
am I sir: nay what are you sir: oh immortall Goddes: oh fine villaine,
a silken doublet, a veluet hose, a scarlet cloake, and a copataine hat:
oh I am vndone, I am vndone: while I plaie the good husband at home, my
sonne and my seruant spend all at the vniuersitie

Tra. How now, what's the matter?

Bapt. What is the man lunaticke?

Tra. Sir, you seeme a sober ancient Gentleman by your habit: but your
words shew you a mad man: why sir, what cernes it you, if I weare
Pearle and gold: I thank my good Father, I am able to maintaine it

Vin. Thy father: oh villaine, he is a Saile-maker in Bergamo

Bap. You mistake sir, you mistake sir, praie what do you thinke is
his name?

Vin. His name, as if I knew not his name: I haue brought him vp euer
since he was three yeeres old, and his name is Tronio

Ped. Awaie, awaie mad asse, his name is Lucentio, and he is mine
onelie sonne and heire to the Lands of me signior Vincentio

Ven. Lucentio: oh he hath murdred his Master; laie hold on him I
charge you in the Dukes name: oh my sonne, my sonne: tell me thou
villaine, where is my son Lucentio?

Tra. Call forth an officer: Carrie this mad knaue to the Iaile:
father Baptista, I charge you see that hee be forth comming

Vinc. Carrie me to the Iaile?

Gre. Staie officer, he shall not go to prison

Bap. Talke not signior Gremio: I saie he shall goe to prison

Gre. Take heede signior Baptista, least you be conicatcht in this
businesse: I dare sweare this is the right Vincentio

Ped. Sweare if thou dar'st

Gre. Naie, I dare not sweare it

Tran. Then thou wert best saie that I am not Lucentio

Gre. Yes, I know thee to be signior Lucentio

Bap. Awaie with the dotard, to the Iaile with him. Enter Biondello,
Lucentio and Bianeu.

Vin. Thus strangers may be haild and abusd: oh monstrous villaine

Bion. Oh we are spoil'd, and yonder he is, denie him, forsweare him,
or else we are all vndone.

Exit Biondello, Tranio and Pedant as fast as may be.

Luc. Pardon sweete father.

Kneele.

Vin. Liues my sweete sonne?

Bian. Pardon deere father

Bap. How hast thou offended, where is Lucentio?   Luc. Here's
Lucentio, right sonne to the right Vincentio, That haue by marriage
made thy daughter mine, While counterfeit supposes bleer'd thine eine

Gre. Here's packing with a witnesse to deceiue vs all

Vin. Where is that damned villaine Tranio, That fac'd and braued me
in this matter so?   Bap. Why, tell me is not this my Cambio?   Bian.
Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio

Luc. Loue wrought these miracles. Biancas loue Made me exchange my
state with Tranio,

While he did beare my countenance in the towne, And happilie I haue
arriued at the last

Vnto the wished hauen of my blisse:

What Tranio did, my selfe enforst him to; Then pardon him sweete Father
for my sake

Vin. Ile slit the villaines nose that would haue sent me to the
Iaile

Bap. But doe you heare sir, haue you married my daughter without
asking my good will?

Vin. Feare not Baptista, we will content you, goe to: but I will in
to be reueng'd for this villanie. Enter.

Bap. And I to sound the depth of this knauerie. Enter.

Luc. Looke not pale Bianca, thy father will not frown.

Exeunt.

Gre. My cake is dough, but Ile in among the rest, Out of hope of all,
but my share of the feast

Kate. Husband let's follow, to see the end of this adoe

Petr. First kisse me Kate, and we will

Kate. What in the midst of the streete?   Petr. What art thou
asham'd of me?

Kate. No sir, God forbid, but asham'd to kisse

Petr. Why then let's home againe: Come Sirra let's awaie

Kate. Nay, I will giue thee a kisse, now praie thee Loue staie

Petr. Is not this well? come my sweete Kate. Better once then neuer,
for neuer to late.

Exeunt.



Actus Quintus.

Enter Baptista, Vincentio, Gremio, the Pedant, Lucentio, and Bianca.

Tranio, Biondello Grumio, and Widdow: The Seruingmen with Tranio
bringing

in a Banquet.

Luc. At last, though long, our iarring notes agree, And time it is
when raging warre is come, To smile at scapes and perils ouerblowne: My
faire Bianca bid my father welcome,

While I with selfesame kindnesse welcome thine: Brother Petruchio,
sister Katerina,

And thou Hortentio with thy louing Widdow: Feast with the best, and
welcome to my house, My Banket is to close our stomakes vp

After our great good cheere: praie you sit downe, For now we sit to
chat as well as eate

Petr. Nothing but sit and sit, and eate and eate

Bap. Padua affords this kindnesse, sonne Petruchio

Petr. Padua affords nothing but what is kinde

Hor. For both our sakes I would that word were true

Pet. Now for my life Hortentio feares his Widow

Wid. Then neuer trust me if I be affeard

Petr. You are verie sencible, and yet you misse my sence:

I meane Hortentio is afeard of you

Wid. He that is giddie thinks the world turns round

Petr. Roundlie replied

Kat. Mistris, how meane you that?

Wid. Thus I conceiue by him

Petr. Conceiues by me, how likes Hortentio that?   Hor. My Widdow
saies, thus she conceiues her tale

Petr. Verie well mended: kisse him for that good Widdow

Kat. He that is giddie thinkes the world turnes round, I praie you
tell me what you meant by that

Wid. Your housband being troubled with a shrew, Measures my husbands
sorrow by his woe:

And now you know my meaning

Kate. A verie meane meaning

Wid. Right, I meane you

Kat. And I am meane indeede, respecting you

Petr. To her Kate

Hor. To her Widdow

Petr. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down

Hor. That's my office

Petr. Spoke like an Officer: ha to the lad.

Drinkes to Hortentio.

Bap. How likes Gremio these quicke witted folkes?   Gre. Beleeue me
sir, they But together well

Bian. Head, and but an hastie witted bodie, Would say your Head and
But were head and horne

Vin. I Mistris Bride, hath that awakened you?   Bian. I, but not
frighted me, therefore Ile sleepe againe

Petr. Nay that you shall not since you haue begun: Haue at you for a
better iest or too

Bian. Am I your Bird, I meane to shift my bush, And then pursue me
as you draw your Bow.

You are welcome all.

Exit Bianca.

Petr. She hath preuented me, here signior Tranio, This bird you aim'd
at, though you hit her not, Therefore a health to all that shot and
mist

Tri. Oh sir, Lucentio slipt me like his Gray-hound, Which runs
himselfe, and catches for his Master

Petr. A good swift simile, but something currish

Tra. 'Tis well sir that you hunted for your selfe: 'Tis thought your
Deere does hold you at a baie

Bap. Oh, oh Petruchio, Tranio hits you now

Luc. I thanke thee for that gird good Tranio

Hor. Confesse, confesse, hath he not hit you here?   Petr. A has a
little gald me I confesse: And as the Iest did glaunce awaie from me,
'Tis ten to one it maim'd you too out right

Bap. Now in good sadnesse sonne Petruchio, I thinke thou hast the
veriest shrew of all

Petr. Well, I say no: and therefore sir assurance, Let's each one
send vnto his wife,

And he whose wife is most obedient,

To come at first when he doth send for her, Shall win the wager which
we will propose

Hort. Content, what's the wager?

Luc. Twentie crownes

Petr. Twentie crownes,

Ile venture so much of my Hawke or Hound, But twentie times so much
vpon my Wife

Luc. A hundred then

Hor. Content

Petr. A match, 'tis done

Hor. Who shall begin?

Luc. That will I.

Goe Biondello, bid your Mistris come to me

Bio. I goe.

Enter.

Bap. Sonne, Ile be your halfe, Bianca comes

Luc. Ile haue no halues: Ile beare it all my selfe. Enter
Biondello.

How now, what newes?

Bio. Sir, my Mistris sends you word

That she is busie, and she cannot come

Petr. How? she's busie, and she cannot come: is that an answere?

Gre. I, and a kinde one too:

Praie God sir your wife send you not a worse

Petr. I hope better

Hor. Sirra Biondello, goe and intreate my wife to come to me
forthwith.

Exit. Bion.

Pet. Oh ho, intreate her, nay then shee must needes come

Hor. I am affraid sir, doe what you can Enter Biondello.

Yours will not be entreated: Now, where's my wife?   Bion. She saies
you haue some goodly Iest in hand, She will not come: she bids you come
to her

Petr. Worse and worse, she will not come: Oh vilde, intollerable,
not to be indur'd: Sirra Grumio, goe to your Mistris,

Say I command her come to me.

Enter.

Hor. I know her answere

Pet. What?

Hor. She will not

Petr. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. Enter Katerina.

Bap. Now by my hollidam here comes Katerina

Kat. What is your will sir, that you send for me?   Petr. Where is
your sister, and Hortensios wife?   Kate. They sit conferring by the
Parler fire

Petr. Goe fetch them hither, if they denie to come, Swinge me them
soundly forth vnto their husbands: Away I say, and bring them hither
straight

Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talke of a wonder

Hor. And so it is: I wonder what it boads

Petr. Marrie peace it boads, and loue, and quiet life, An awfull
rule, and right supremicie:

And to be short, what not, that's sweete and happie

Bap. Now faire befall thee good Petruchio; The wager thou hast won,
and I will adde

Vnto their losses twentie thousand crownes, Another dowrie to another
daughter,

For she is chang'd as she had neuer bin

Petr. Nay, I will win my wager better yet, And show more signe of
her obedience,

Her new built vertue and obedience.

Enter Kate, Bianca, and Widdow.

See where she comes, and brings your froward Wiues As prisoners to her
womanlie perswasion:

Katerine, that Cap of yours becomes you not, Off with that bable, throw
it vnderfoote

Wid. Lord let me neuer haue a cause to sigh, Till I be brought to
such a sillie passe

Bian. Fie what a foolish dutie call you this?   Luc. I would your
dutie were as foolish too: The wisdome of your dutie faire Bianca,

Hath cost me fiue hundred crownes since supper time

Bian. The more foole you for laying on my dutie

Pet. Katherine I charge thee tell these head-strong women, what
dutie they doe owe their Lords and husbands

Wid. Come, come, your mocking: we will haue no telling

Pet. Come on I say, and first begin with her

Wid. She shall not

Pet. I say she shall, and first begin with her

Kate. Fie, fie, vnknit that threatning vnkinde brow, And dart not
scornefull glances from those eies, To wound thy Lord, thy King, thy
Gouernour. It blots thy beautie, as frosts doe bite the Meads,
Confounds thy fame, as whirlewinds shake faire budds, And in no sence
is meete or amiable.

A woman mou'd, is like a fountaine troubled, Muddie, ill seeming,
thicke, bereft of beautie, And while it is so, none so dry or thirstie
Will daigne to sip, or touch one drop of it. Thy husband is thy Lord,
thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy soueraigne: One that cares for
thee, And for thy maintenance. Commits his body To painfull labour,
both by sea and land: To watch the night in stormes, the day in cold,
Whil'st thou ly'st warme at home, secure and safe, And craues no other
tribute at thy hands, But loue, faire lookes, and true obedience; Too
little payment for so great a debt.

Such dutie as the subiect owes the Prince, Euen such a woman oweth to
her husband:

And when she is froward, peeuish, sullen, sowre, And not obedient to
his honest will,

What is she but a foule contending Rebell, And gracelesse Traitor to
her louing Lord? I am asham'd that women are so simple,

To offer warre, where they should kneele for peace: Or seeke for rule,
supremacie, and sway,

When they are bound to serue, loue, and obay. Why are our bodies soft,
and weake, and smooth, Vnapt to toyle and trouble in the world,

But that our soft conditions, and our harts, Should well agree with our
externall parts? Come, come, you froward and vnable wormes, My minde
hath bin as bigge as one of yours, My heart as great, my reason haplie
more, To bandie word for word, and frowne for frowne; But now I see our
Launces are but strawes: Our strength as weake, our weakenesse past
compare, That seeming to be most, which we indeed least are. Then vale
your stomackes, for it is no boote, And place your hands below your
husbands foote: In token of which dutie, if he please,

My hand is readie, may it do him ease

Pet. Why there's a wench: Come on, and kisse mee Kate

Luc. Well go thy waies olde Lad for thou shalt ha't

Vin. Tis a good hearing, when children are toward

Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are froward,   Pet. Come Kate,
wee'le to bed,

We three are married, but you two are sped. 'Twas I wonne the wager,
though you hit the white, And being a winner, God giue you good night.

Exit Petruchio

Horten. Now goe thy wayes, thou hast tam'd a curst Shrow

Luc. Tis a wonder, by your leaue, she wil be tam'd so.

FINIS. THE Taming of the Shrew.



All's Well, that Ends Well

Actus primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter yong Bertram Count of Rossillion, his Mother, and Helena, Lord

Lafew, all in blacke.

Mother. In deliuering my sonne from me, I burie a second husband

Ros. And I in going Madam, weep ore my fathers death anew; but I
must attend his maiesties command, to whom I am now in Ward, euermore
in subiection

Laf. You shall find of the King a husband Madame, you sir a father.
He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessitie hold his
vertue to you, whose worthinesse would stirre it vp where it wanted
rather then lack it where there is such abundance

Mo. What hope is there of his Maiesties amendment?   Laf. He hath
abandon'd his Phisitions Madam, vnder whose practises he hath
persecuted time with hope, and finds no other aduantage in the
processe, but onely the loosing of hope by time

Mo. This yong Gentlewoman had a father, O that had, how sad a
passage tis, whose skill was almost as great as his honestie, had it
stretch'd so far, would haue made nature immortall, and death should
haue play for lacke of worke. Would for the Kings sake hee were liuing,
I thinke it would be the death of the Kings disease

Laf. How call'd you the man you speake of Madam?   Mo. He was famous
sir in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de
Narbon

Laf. He was excellent indeed Madam, the King very latelie spoke of
him admiringly, and mourningly: hee was skilfull enough to haue liu'd
stil, if knowledge could be set vp against mortallitie

Ros. What is it (my good Lord) the King languishes of?

Laf. A Fistula my Lord

Ros. I heard not of it before

Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this Gentlewoman the
Daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

Mo. His sole childe my Lord, and bequeathed to my ouer looking. I
haue those hopes of her good, that her education promises her
dispositions shee inherits, which makes faire gifts fairer: for where
an vncleane mind carries vertuous qualities, there commendations go
with pitty, they are vertues and traitors too: in her they are the
better for their simplenesse; she deriues her honestie, and atcheeues
her goodnesse

Lafew. Your commendations Madam get from her teares

Mo. 'Tis the best brine a Maiden can season her praise in. The
remembrance of her father neuer approches her heart, but the tirrany of
her sorrowes takes all liuelihood from her cheeke. No more of this
Helena, go too, no more least it be rather thought you affect a sorrow,
then to haue-

Hell. I doe affect a sorrow indeed, but I haue it too

Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessiue greefe
the enemie to the liuing

Mo. If the liuing be enemie to the greefe, the excesse makes it
soone mortall

Ros. Maddam I desire your holie wishes

Laf. How vnderstand we that?

Mo. Be thou blest Bertrame, and succeed thy father In manners as in
shape: thy blood and vertue Contend for Empire in thee, and thy
goodnesse Share with thy birth-right. Loue all, trust a few, Doe wrong
to none: be able for thine enemie Rather in power then vse: and keepe
thy friend Vnder thy owne lifes key. Be checkt for silence, But neuer
tax'd for speech. What heauen more wil, That thee may furnish, and my
prayers plucke downe, Fall on thy head. Farwell my Lord,

'Tis an vnseason'd Courtier, good my Lord Aduise him

Laf. He cannot want the best

That shall attend his loue

Mo. Heauen blesse him: Farwell Bertram

Ro. The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoghts be seruants
to you: be comfortable to my mother, your Mistris, and make much of
her

Laf. Farewell prettie Lady, you must hold the credit of your father

Hell. O were that all, I thinke not on my father, And these great
teares grace his remembrance more Then those I shed for him. What was
he like? I haue forgott him. My imagination

Carries no fauour in't but Bertrams.

I am vndone, there is no liuing, none,

If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one,

That I should loue a bright particuler starre, And think to wed it, he
is so aboue me

In his bright radience and colaterall light, Must I be comforted, not
in his sphere;

Th' ambition in my loue thus plagues it selfe: The hind that would be
mated by the Lion

Must die for loue. 'Twas prettie, though a plague To see him euerie
houre to sit and draw

His arched browes, his hawking eie, his curles In our hearts table:
heart too capeable

Of euerie line and tricke of his sweet fauour. But now he's gone, and
my idolatrous fancie Must sanctifie his Reliques. Who comes heere?
Enter Parrolles.

One that goes with him: I loue him for his sake, And yet I know him a
notorious Liar,

Thinke him a great way foole, solie a coward, Yet these fixt euils sit
so fit in him,

That they take place, when Vertues steely bones Lookes bleake i'th cold
wind: withall, full ofte we see Cold wisedome waighting on superfluous
follie

Par. Saue you faire Queene

Hel. And you Monarch

Par. No

Hel. And no

Par. Are you meditating on virginitie?   Hel. I: you haue some
staine of souldier in you: Let mee aske you a question. Man is enemie
to virginitie, how may we barracado it against him?

Par. Keepe him out

Hel. But he assailes, and our virginitie though valiant, in the
defence yet is weak: vnfold to vs some war-like resistance

Par. There is none: Man setting downe before you, will vndermine
you, and blow you vp

Hel. Blesse our poore Virginity from vnderminers and blowers vp. Is
there no Military policy how Virgins might blow vp men?

Par. Virginity beeing blowne downe, Man will quicklier be blowne vp:
marry in blowing him downe againe, with the breach your selues made,
you lose your Citty. It is not politicke, in the Common-wealth of
Nature, to preserue virginity. Losse of Virginitie, is rationall
encrease, and there was neuer Virgin goe, till virginitie was first
lost. That you were made of, is mettall to make Virgins. Virginitie, by
beeing once lost, may be ten times found: by being euer kept, it is
euer lost: 'tis too cold a companion: Away with't

Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a Virgin

Par. There's little can bee saide in't, 'tis against the rule of
Nature. To speake on the part of virginitie, is to accuse your Mothers;
which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himselfe is a
Virgin: Virginitie murthers it selfe, and should be buried in highwayes
out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate Offendresse against Nature.
Virginitie breedes mites, much like a Cheese, consumes it selfe to the
very payring, and so dies with feeding his owne stomacke. Besides,
Virginitie is peeuish, proud, ydle, made of selfe-loue, which is the
most inhibited sinne in the Cannon. Keepe it not, you cannot choose but
loose by't. Out with't: within ten yeare it will make it selfe two,
which is a goodly increase, and the principall it selfe not much the
worse. Away with't

Hel. How might one do sir, to loose it to her owne liking?

Par. Let mee see. Marry ill, to like him that ne're it likes. 'Tis a
commodity wil lose the glosse with lying: The longer kept, the lesse
worth: Off with't while 'tis vendible. Answer the time of request,
Virginitie like an olde Courtier, weares her cap out of fashion, richly
suted, but vnsuteable, iust like the brooch & the tooth-pick, which
were not now: your Date is better in your Pye and your Porredge, then
in your cheeke: and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of
our French wither'd peares, it lookes ill, it eates drily, marry 'tis a
wither'd peare: it was formerly better, marry yet 'tis a wither'd
peare: Will you any thing with it?   Hel. Not my virginity yet:

There shall your Master haue a thousand loues, A Mother, and a
Mistresse, and a friend,

A Phenix, Captaine, and an enemy,

A guide, a Goddesse, and a Soueraigne,

A Counsellor, a Traitoresse, and a Deare: His humble ambition, proud
humility:

His iarring, concord: and his discord, dulcet: His faith, his sweet
disaster: with a world Of pretty fond adoptious christendomes

That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he: I know not what he shall,
God send him well, The Courts a learning place, and he is one

Par. What one ifaith?

Hel. That I wish well, 'tis pitty

Par. What's pitty?

Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't, Which might be felt, that
we the poorer borne, Whose baser starres do shut vs vp in wishes, Might
with effects of them follow our friends, And shew what we alone must
thinke, which neuer Returnes vs thankes.

Enter Page.

Pag. Monsieur Parrolles,

My Lord cals for you

Par. Little Hellen farewell, if I can remember thee, I will thinke
of thee at Court

Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were borne vnder a charitable starre

Par. Vnder Mars I

Hel. I especially thinke, vnder Mars

Par. Why vnder Mars?

Hel. The warres hath so kept you vnder, that you must needes be borne
vnder Mars

Par. When he was predominant

Hel. When he was retrograde I thinke rather

Par. Why thinke you so?

Hel. You go so much backward when you fight

Par. That's for aduantage

Hel. So is running away,

When feare proposes the safetie:

But the composition that your valour and feare makes in you, is a
vertue of a good wing, and I like the weare well

Paroll. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answere thee acutely: I
will returne perfect Courtier, in the which my instruction shall serue
to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capeable of a Courtiers councell,
and vnderstand what aduice shall thrust vppon thee, else thou diest in
thine vnthankfulnes, and thine ignorance makes thee away, farewell:
When thou hast leysure, say thy praiers: when thou hast none, remember
thy Friends: Get thee a good husband, and vse him as he vses thee: So
farewell

Hel. Our remedies oft in our selues do lye, Which we ascribe to
heauen: the fated skye Giues vs free scope, onely doth backward pull
Our slow designes, when we our selues are dull. What power is it, which
mounts my loue so hye, That makes me see, and cannot feede mine eye?
The mightiest space in fortune, Nature brings To ioyne like, likes; and
kisse like natiue things. Impossible be strange attempts to those

That weigh their paines in sence, and do suppose What hath beene,
cannot be. Who euer stroue To shew her merit, that did misse her loue?
(The Kings disease) my proiect may deceiue me, But my intents are fixt,
and will not leaue me.

Exit

Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with Letters, and diuers
Attendants.

King. The Florentines and Senoys are by th' eares, Haue fought with
equall fortune, and continue A brauing warre

1.Lo.G. So tis reported sir

King. Nay tis most credible, we heere receiue it, A certaintie
vouch'd from our Cosin Austria, With caution, that the Florentine will
moue vs For speedie ayde: wherein our deerest friend Preiudicates the
businesse, and would seeme To haue vs make deniall

1.Lo.G. His loue and wisedome

Approu'd so to your Maiesty, may pleade

For amplest credence

King. He hath arm'd our answer,

And Florence is deni'de before he comes:

Yet for our Gentlemen that meane to see

The Tuscan seruice, freely haue they leaue To stand on either part

2.Lo.E. It well may serue

A nursserie to our Gentrie, who are sicke For breathing, and exploit

King. What's he comes heere.

Enter Bertram, Lafew, and Parolles.

1.Lor.G. It is the Count Rosignoll my good Lord, Yong Bertram

King. Youth, thou bear'st thy Fathers face, Franke Nature rather
curious then in hast Hath well compos'd thee: Thy Fathers morall parts
Maist thou inherit too: Welcome to Paris

Ber. My thankes and dutie are your Maiesties

Kin. I would I had that corporall soundnesse now, As when thy
father, and my selfe, in friendship First tride our souldiership: he
did looke farre Into the seruice of the time, and was

Discipled of the brauest. He lasted long, But on vs both did haggish
Age steale on, And wore vs out of act: It much repaires me To talke of
your good father; in his youth He had the wit, which I can well
obserue

To day in our yong Lords: but they may iest Till their owne scorne
returne to them vnnoted Ere they can hide their leuitie in honour: So
like a Courtier, contempt nor bitternesse Were in his pride, or
sharpnesse; if they were, His equall had awak'd them, and his honour
Clocke to it selfe, knew the true minute when Exception bid him speake:
and at this time His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him, He
vs'd as creatures of another place,

And bow'd his eminent top to their low rankes, Making them proud of his
humilitie,

In their poore praise he humbled: Such a man Might be a copie to these
yonger times;

Which followed well, would demonstrate them now But goers backward

Ber. His good remembrance sir

Lies richer in your thoughts, then on his tombe: So in approofe liues
not his Epitaph,

As in your royall speech

King. Would I were with him he would alwaies say, (Me thinkes I
heare him now) his plausiue words He scatter'd not in eares, but
grafted them To grow there and to beare: Let me not liue, This his good
melancholly oft began

On the Catastrophe and heele of pastime

When it was out: Let me not liue (quoth hee) After my flame lackes
oyle, to be the snuffe Of yonger spirits, whose apprehensiue senses All
but new things disdaine; whose iudgements are Meere fathers of their
garments: whose constancies Expire before their fashions: this he
wish'd. I after him, do after him wish too:

Since I nor wax nor honie can bring home, I quickly were dissolued from
my hiue

To giue some Labourers roome

2.L.E. You'r loued Sir,

They that least lend it you, shall lacke you first

Kin. I fill a place I know't: how long ist Count Since the Physitian
at your fathers died? He was much fam'd

Ber. Some six moneths since my Lord

Kin. If he were liuing, I would try him yet. Lend me an arme: the
rest haue worne me out With seuerall applications: Nature and sicknesse
Debate it at their leisure. Welcome Count, My sonne's no deerer

Ber. Thanke your Maiesty.

Exit

Flourish.

Enter Countesse, Steward, and Clowne.

Coun. I will now heare, what say you of this gentlewoman

Ste. Maddam the care I haue had to euen your content, I wish might
be found in the Kalender of my past endeuours, for then we wound our
Modestie, and make foule the clearnesse of our deseruings, when of our
selues we publish them

Coun. What doe's this knaue heere? Get you gone sirra: the
complaints I haue heard of you I do not all beleeue, 'tis my slownesse
that I doe not: For I know you lacke not folly to commit them, & haue
abilitie enough to make such knaueries yours

Clo. 'Tis not vnknown to you Madam, I am a poore fellow

Coun. Well sir

Clo. No maddam,

'Tis not so well that I am poore, though manie of the rich are damn'd,
but if I may haue your Ladiships good will to goe to the world, Isbell
the woman and I will doe as we may

Coun. Wilt thou needes be a begger?

Clo. I doe beg your good will in this case

Cou. In what case?

Clo. In Isbels case and mine owne: seruice is no heritage, and I
thinke I shall neuer haue the blessing of God, till I haue issue a my
bodie: for they say barnes are blessings

Cou. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marrie?   Clo. My poore bodie
Madam requires it, I am driuen on by the flesh, and hee must needes goe
that the diuell driues

Cou. Is this all your worships reason?   Clo. Faith Madam I haue
other holie reasons, such as they are

Cou. May the world know them?

Clo. I haue beene Madam a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and
blood are, and indeede I doe marrie that I may repent

Cou. Thy marriage sooner then thy wickednesse

Clo. I am out a friends Madam, and I hope to haue friends for my
wiues sake

Cou. Such friends are thine enemies knaue

Clo. Y'are shallow Madam in great friends, for the knaues come to
doe that for me which I am a wearie of: he that eres my Land, spares my
teame, and giues mee leaue to Inne the crop: if I be his cuckold hee's
my drudge; he that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of my flesh and
blood; hee that cherishes my flesh and blood, loues my flesh and blood;
he that loues my flesh and blood is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my
wife is my friend: if men could be contented to be what they are, there
were no feare in marriage, for yong Charbon the Puritan, and old Poysam
the Papist, how somere their hearts are seuer'd in Religion, their
heads are both one, they may ioule horns together like any Deare i'th
Herd

Cou. Wilt thou euer be a foule mouth'd and calumnious knaue?

Clo. A Prophet I Madam, and I speake the truth the next waie, for I
the Ballad will repeate, which men full true shall finde, your marriage
comes by destinie, your Cuckow sings by kinde

Cou. Get you gone sir, Ile talke with you more anon

Stew. May it please you Madam, that hee bid Hellen come to you, of
her I am to speake

Cou. Sirra tell my gentlewoman I would speake with her, Hellen I
meane

Clo. Was this faire face the cause, quoth she, Why the Grecians
sacked Troy,

Fond done, done, fond was this King Priams ioy, With that she sighed as
she stood,

bis

And gaue this sentence then, among nine bad if one be good, among nine
bad if one be good, there's yet one good in ten

Cou. What, one good in tenne? you corrupt the song sirra

Clo. One good woman in ten Madam, which is a purifying ath' song:
would God would serue the world so all the yeere, weed finde no fault
with the tithe woman if I were the Parson, one in ten quoth a? and wee
might haue a good woman borne but ore euerie blazing starre, or at an
earthquake, 'twould mend the Lotterie well, a man may draw his heart
out ere a plucke one

Cou. Youle begone sir knaue, and doe as I command you?

Clo. That man should be at womans command, and yet no hurt done,
though honestie be no Puritan, yet it will doe no hurt, it will weare
the Surplis of humilitie ouer the blacke-Gowne of a bigge heart: I am
going forsooth, the businesse is for Helen to come hither. Enter.

Cou. Well now

Stew. I know Madam you loue your Gentlewoman intirely

Cou. Faith I doe: her Father bequeath'd her to mee, and she her
selfe without other aduantage, may lawfullie make title to as much loue
as shee findes, there is more owing her then is paid, and more shall be
paid her then sheele demand

Stew. Madam, I was verie late more neere her then I thinke shee
wisht mee, alone shee was, and did communicate to her selfe her owne
words to her owne eares, shee thought, I dare vowe for her, they toucht
not anie stranger sence, her matter was, shee loued your Sonne; Fortune
shee said was no goddesse, that had put such difference betwixt their
two estates: Loue no god, that would not extend his might onelie, where
qualities were leuell, Queene of Virgins, that would suffer her poore
Knight surpris'd without rescue in the first assault or ransome
afterward: This shee deliuer'd in the most bitter touch of sorrow that
ere I heard Virgin exclaime in, which I held my dutie speedily to
acquaint you withall, sithence in the losse that may happen, it
concernes you something to know it

Cou. You haue discharg'd this honestlie, keepe it to your selfe,
manie likelihoods inform'd mee of this before, which hung so tottring
in the ballance, that I could neither beleeue nor misdoubt: praie you
leaue mee, stall this in your bosome, and I thanke you for your honest
care: I will speake with you further anon.

Exit Steward.

Enter Hellen.

Old.Cou. Euen so it was with me when I was yong: If euer we are
natures, these are ours, this thorne Doth to our Rose of youth rightlie
belong Our bloud to vs, this to our blood is borne, It is the show, and
seale of natures truth, Where loues strong passion is imprest in youth,
By our remembrances of daies forgon,

Such were our faults, or then we thought them none, Her eie is sicke
on't, I obserue her now

Hell. What is your pleasure Madam?

Ol.Cou. You know Hellen I am a mother to you

Hell. Mine honorable Mistris

Ol.Cou. Nay a mother, why not a mother? when I sed a mother

Me thought you saw a serpent, what's in mother, That you start at it? I
say I am your mother, And put you in the Catalogue of those

That were enwombed mine, 'tis often seene Adoption striues with nature,
and choise breedes A natiue slip to vs from forraine seedes: You nere
opprest me with a mothers groane, Yet I expresse to you a mothers
care,

(Gods mercie maiden) dos it curd thy blood To say I am thy mother?
what's the matter, That this distempered messenger of wet?

The manie colour'd Iris rounds thine eye? - Why, that you are my
daughter?

Hell. That I am not

Old.Cou. I say I am your Mother

Hell. Pardon Madam.

The Count Rosillion cannot be my brother: I am from humble, he from
honored name:

No note vpon my Parents, his all noble,

My Master, my deere Lord he is, and I

His seruant liue, and will his vassall die: He must not be my brother

Ol.Cou. Nor I your Mother

Hell. You are my mother Madam, would you were So that my Lord your
sonne were not my brother, Indeede my mother, or were you both our
mothers, I care no more for, then I doe for heauen, So I were not his
sister, cant no other,

But I your daughter, he must be my brother

Old.Cou. Yes Hellen, you might be my daughter in law, God shield you
meane it not, daughter and mother So striue vpon your pulse; what pale
agen? My feare hath catcht your fondnesse! now I see The mistrie of
your louelinesse, and finde Your salt teares head, now to all sence
'tis grosse: You loue my sonne, inuention is asham'd

Against the proclamation of thy passion

To say thou doost not: therefore tell me true, But tell me then 'tis
so, for looke, thy cheekes Confesse it 'ton tooth to th' other, and
thine eies See it so grosely showne in thy behauiours, That in their
kinde they speake it, onely sinne And hellish obstinacie tye thy
tongue

That truth should be suspected, speake, ist so? If it be so, you haue
wound a goodly clewe: If it be not, forsweare't how ere I charge thee,
As heauen shall worke in me for thine auaile To tell me truelie

Hell. Good Madam pardon me

Cou. Do you loue my Sonne?

Hell. Your pardon noble Mistris

Cou. Loue you my Sonne?

Hell. Doe not you loue him Madam?

Cou. Goe not about; my loue hath in't a bond Whereof the world takes
note: Come, come, disclose: The state of your affection, for your
passions Haue to the full appeach'd

Hell. Then I confesse

Here on my knee, before high heauen and you, That before you, and next
vnto high heauen, I loue your Sonne:

My friends were poore but honest, so's my loue: Be not offended, for it
hurts not him

That he is lou'd of me; I follow him not

By any token of presumptuous suite,

Nor would I haue him, till I doe deserue him, Yet neuer know how that
desert should be: I know I loue in vaine, striue against hope: Yet in
this captious, and intemible Siue. I still poure in the waters of my
loue

And lacke not to loose still; thus Indian like Religious in mine error,
I adore

The Sunne that lookes vpon his worshipper, But knowes of him no more.
My deerest Madam, Let not your hate incounter with my loue, For louing
where you doe; but if your selfe, Whose aged honor cites a vertuous
youth,

Did euer, in so true a flame of liking,

Wish chastly, and loue dearely, that your Dian Was both her selfe and
loue, O then giue pittie To her whose state is such, that cannot choose
But lend and giue where she is sure to loose; That seekes not to finde
that, her search implies, But riddle like, liues sweetely where she
dies

Cou. Had you not lately an intent, speake truely, To goe to Paris?

Hell. Madam I had

Cou. Wherefore? tell true

Hell. I will tell truth, by grace it selfe I sweare: You know my
Father left me some prescriptions Of rare and prou'd effects, such as
his reading And manifest experience, had collected

For generall soueraigntie: and that he wil'd me In heedefull'st
reseruation to bestow them, As notes, whose faculties inclusiue were,
More then they were in note: Amongst the rest, There is a remedie,
approu'd, set downe,

To cure the desperate languishings whereof The King is render'd lost

Cou. This was your motiue for Paris, was it, speake?   Hell. My
Lord, your sonne, made me to think of this; Else Paris, and the
medicine, and the King, Had from the conuersation of my thoughts,
Happily beene absent then

Cou. But thinke you Hellen,

If you should tender your supposed aide,

He would receiue it? He and his Phisitions Are of a minde, he, that
they cannot helpe him: They, that they cannot helpe, how shall they
credit A poore vnlearned Virgin, when the Schooles Embowel'd of their
doctrine, haue left off The danger to it selfe

Hell. There's something in't

More then my Fathers skill, which was the great'st Of his profession,
that his good receipt, Shall for my legacie be sanctified

Byth' luckiest stars in heauen, and would your honor But giue me leaue
to trie successe, I'de venture The well lost life of mine, on his
Graces cure, By such a day, an houre

Cou. Doo'st thou beleeue't?

Hell. I Madam knowingly

Cou. Why Hellen thou shalt haue my leaue and loue, Meanes and
attendants, and my louing greetings To those of mine in Court, Ile
staie at home And praie Gods blessing into thy attempt: Begon to
morrow, and be sure of this,

What I can helpe thee to, thou shalt not misse.

Exeunt.



Actus Secundus.

Enter the King with diuers yong Lords, taking leaue for the Florentine

warre: Count, Rosse, and Parrolles. Florish Cornets.

King. Farewell yong Lords, these warlike principles Doe not throw
from you, and you my Lords farewell: Share the aduice betwixt you, if
both gaine, all The guift doth stretch it selfe as 'tis receiu'd, And
is enough for both

Lord.G. 'Tis our hope sir,

After well entred souldiers, to returne

And finde your grace in health

King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart Will not confesse he
owes the mallady

That doth my life besiege: farwell yong Lords, Whether I liue or die,
be you the sonnes

Of worthy French men: let higher Italy

(Those bated that inherit but the fall

Of the last Monarchy) see that you come

Not to wooe honour, but to wed it, when

The brauest questant shrinkes: finde what you seeke, That fame may cry
you loud: I say farewell

L.G. Health at your bidding serue your Maiesty

King. Those girles of Italy, take heed of them, They say our French,
lacke language to deny If they demand: beware of being Captiues

Before you serue

Bo. Our hearts receiue your warnings

King. Farewell, come hether to me

1.Lo.G. Oh my sweet Lord y you wil stay behind vs

Parr. 'Tis not his fault the spark

2.Lo.E. Oh 'tis braue warres

Parr. Most admirable, I haue seene those warres

Rossill. I am commanded here, and kept a coyle with, Too young, and
the next yeere, and 'tis too early

Parr. And thy minde stand too't boy,

Steale away brauely

Rossill. I shal stay here the for-horse to a smocke, Creeking my
shooes on the plaine Masonry, Till honour be bought vp, and no sword
worne But one to dance with: by heauen, Ile steale away

1.Lo.G. There's honour in the theft

Parr. Commit it Count

2.Lo.E. I am your accessary, and so farewell

Ros. I grow to you, & our parting is a tortur'd body

1.Lo.G. Farewell Captaine

2.Lo.E. Sweet Mounsier Parolles

Parr. Noble Heroes; my sword and yours are kinne, good sparkes and
lustrous, a word good mettals. You shall finde in the Regiment of the
Spinij, one Captaine Spurio his sicatrice, with an Embleme of warre
heere on his sinister cheeke; it was this very sword entrench'd it: say
to him I liue, and obserue his reports for me

Lo.G. We shall noble Captaine

Parr. Mars doate on you for his nouices, what will ye doe?

Ross. Stay the King

Parr. Vse a more spacious ceremonie to the Noble Lords, you haue
restrain'd your selfe within the List of too cold an adieu: be more
expressiue to them; for they weare themselues in the cap of the time,
there do muster true gate; eat, speake, and moue vnder the influence of
the most receiu'd starre, and though the deuill leade the measure, such
are to be followed: after them, and take a more dilated farewell

Ross. And I will doe so

Parr. Worthy fellowes, and like to prooue most sinewie sword-men.

Exeunt.

Enter Lafew.

L.Laf. Pardon my Lord for mee and for my tidings

King. Ile see thee to stand vp

L.Laf. Then heres a man stands that has brought his pardon, I would
you had kneel'd my Lord to aske me mercy, And that at my bidding you
could so stand vp

King. I would I had, so I had broke thy pate And askt thee mercy
for't

Laf. Goodfaith a-crosse, but my good Lord 'tis thus, Will you be
cur'd of your infirmitie?

King. No

Laf. O will you eat no grapes my royall foxe? Yes but you will, my
noble grapes, and if My royall foxe could reach them: I haue seen a
medicine That's able to breath life into a stone,

Quicken a rocke, and make you dance Canari With sprightly fire and
motion, whose simple touch Is powerfull to arayse King Pippen, nay

To giue great Charlemaine a pen in's hand And write to her a loue-line

King. What her is this?

Laf. Why doctor she: my Lord, there's one arriu'd, If you will see
her: now by my faith and honour, If seriously I may conuay my thoughts

In this my light deliuerance, I haue spoke With one, that in her sexe,
her yeeres, profession, Wisedome and constancy, hath amaz'd mee more
Then I dare blame my weakenesse: will you see her? For that is her
demand, and know her businesse? That done, laugh well at me

King. Now good Lafew,

Bring in the admiration, that we with thee May spend our wonder too, or
take off thine By wondring how thou tookst it

Laf. Nay, Ile fit you,

And not be all day neither

King. Thus he his speciall nothing euer prologues

Laf. Nay, come your waies.

Enter Hellen.

King. This haste hath wings indeed

Laf. Nay, come your waies,

This is his Maiestie, say your minde to him, A Traitor you doe looke
like, but such traitors His Maiesty seldome feares, I am Cresseds
Vncle, That dare leaue two together, far you well. Enter.

King. Now faire one, do's your busines follow vs?   Hel. I my good
Lord,

Gerard de Narbon was my father,

In what he did professe, well found

King. I knew him

Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards him, Knowing him is
enough: on's bed of death, Many receits he gaue me, chieflie one,

Which as the dearest issue of his practice And of his olde experience,
th' onlie darling, He bad me store vp, as a triple eye,

Safer then mine owne two: more deare I haue so, And hearing your high
Maiestie is toucht

With that malignant cause, wherein the honour Of my deare fathers gift,
stands cheefe in power, I come to tender it, and my appliance,

With all bound humblenesse

King. We thanke you maiden,

But may not be so credulous of cure,

When our most learned Doctors leaue vs, and The congregated Colledge
haue concluded,

That labouring Art can neuer ransome nature From her inaydible estate:
I say we must not So staine our iudgement, or corrupt our hope, To
prostitute our past-cure malladie

To empericks, or to disseuer so

Our great selfe and our credit, to esteeme A sencelesse helpe, when
helpe past sence we deeme

Hell. My dutie then shall pay me for my paines: I will no more
enforce mine office on you, Humbly intreating from your royall
thoughts, A modest one to beare me backe againe

King. I cannot giue thee lesse to be cal'd gratefull: Thou thoughtst
to helpe me, and such thankes I giue, As one neere death to those that
wish him liue: But what at full I know, thou knowst no part, I knowing
all my perill, thou no Art

Hell. What I can doe, can doe no hurt to try, Since you set vp your
rest 'gainst remedie: He that of greatest workes is finisher,

Oft does them by the weakest minister:

So holy Writ, in babes hath iudgement showne, When Iudges haue bin
babes; great flouds haue flowne From simple sources: and great Seas
haue dried When Miracles haue by the great'st beene denied. Oft
expectation failes, and most oft there Where most it promises: and oft
it hits,

Where hope is coldest, and despaire most shifts

King. I must not heare thee, fare thee wel kind maide, Thy paines
not vs'd, must by thy selfe be paid, Proffers not tooke, reape thanks
for their reward

Hel. Inspired Merit so by breath is bard, It is not so with him that
all things knowes As 'tis with vs, that square our guesse by showes:
But most it is presumption in vs, when

The help of heauen we count the act of men. Deare sir, to my endeauors
giue consent,

Of heauen, not me, make an experiment.

I am not an Imposture, that proclaime

My selfe against the leuill of mine aime, But know I thinke, and thinke
I know most sure, My Art is not past power, nor you past cure

King. Art thou so confident? Within what space Hop'st thou my cure?

Hel. The greatest grace lending grace,

Ere twice the horses of the sunne shall bring Their fiery torcher his
diurnall ring,

Ere twice in murke and occidentall dampe

Moist Hesperus hath quench'd her sleepy Lampe: Or foure and twenty
times the Pylots glasse Hath told the theeuish minutes, how they passe:
What is infirme, from your sound parts shall flie, Health shall liue
free, and sickenesse freely dye

King. Vpon thy certainty and confidence, What dar'st thou venter?

Hell. Taxe of impudence,

A strumpets boldnesse, a divulged shame

Traduc'd by odious ballads: my maidens name Seard otherwise, ne worse
of worst extended With vildest torture, let my life be ended

Kin. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak His powerfull
sound, within an organ weake: And what impossibility would slay

In common sence, sence saues another way: Thy life is deere, for all
that life can rate Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate: Youth,
beauty, wisedome, courage, all

That happines and prime, can happy call:

Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate

Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate,

Sweet practiser, thy Physicke I will try, That ministers thine owne
death if I die

Hel. If I breake time, or flinch in property Of what I spoke,
vnpittied let me die,

And well deseru'd: not helping, death's my fee, But if I helpe, what
doe you promise me

Kin. Make thy demand

Hel. But will you make it euen?

Kin. I by my Scepter, and my hopes of helpe

Hel. Then shalt thou giue me with thy kingly hand What husband in
thy power I will command: Exempted be from me the arrogance

To choose from forth the royall bloud of France, My low and humble name
to propagate

With any branch or image of thy state:

But such a one thy vassall, whom I know

Is free for me to aske, thee to bestow

Kin. Heere is my hand, the premises obseru'd, Thy will by my
performance shall be seru'd: So make the choice of thy owne time, for I
Thy resolv'd Patient, on thee still relye: More should I question thee,
and more I must, Though more to know, could not be more to trust: From
whence thou cam'st, how tended on, but rest Vnquestion'd welcome, and
vndoubted blest. Giue me some helpe heere hoa, if thou proceed, As high
as word, my deed shall match thy deed.

Florish. Exit.

Enter Countesse and Clowne.

Lady. Come on sir, I shall now put you to the height of your
breeding

Clown. I will shew my selfe highly fed, and lowly taught, I know my
businesse is but to the Court

Lady. To the Court, why what place make you speciall, when you put
off that with such contempt, but to the Court?

Clo. Truly Madam, if God haue lent a man any manners, hee may easilie
put it off at Court: hee that cannot make a legge, put off's cap, kisse
his hand, and say nothing, has neither legge, hands, lippe, nor cap;
and indeed such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the Court, but
for me, I haue an answere will serue all men

Lady. Marry that's a bountifull answere that fits all questions

Clo. It is like a Barbers chaire that fits all buttockes, the pin
buttocke, the quatch-buttocke, the brawn buttocke, or any buttocke

Lady. Will your answere serue fit to all questions?   Clo. As fit as
ten groats is for the hand of an Atturney, as your French Crowne for
your taffety punke, as Tibs rush for Toms fore-finger, as a pancake for
Shroue-tuesday, a Morris for May-day, as the naile to his hole, the
Cuckold to his horne, as a scolding queane to a wrangling knaue, as the
Nuns lip to the Friers mouth, nay as the pudding to his skin

Lady. Haue you, I say, an answere of such fitnesse for all
questions?

Clo. From below your Duke, to beneath your Constable, it will fit any
question

Lady. It must be an answere of most monstrous size, that must fit
all demands

Clo. But a triflle neither in good faith, if the learned should
speake truth of it: heere it is, and all that belongs to't. Aske mee if
I am a Courtier, it shall doe you no harme to learne

Lady. To be young againe if we could: I will bee a foole in
question, hoping to bee the wiser by your answer

La. I pray you sir, are you a Courtier?   Clo. O Lord sir theres a
simple putting off: more, more, a hundred of them

La. Sir I am a poore freind of yours, that loues you

Clo. O Lord sir, thicke, thicke, spare not me

La. I thinke sir, you can eate none of this homely meate

Clo. O Lord sir; nay put me too't, I warrant you

La. You were lately whipt sir as I thinke

Clo. O Lord sir, spare not me

La. Doe you crie O Lord sir at your whipping, and spare not me?
Indeed your O Lord sir, is very sequent to your whipping: you would
answere very well to a whipping if you were but bound too't

Clo. I nere had worse lucke in my life in my O Lord sir: I see
things may serue long, but not serue euer

La. I play the noble huswife with the time, to entertaine it so
merrily with a foole

Clo. O Lord sir, why there't serues well agen

La. And end sir to your businesse: giue Hellen this, And vrge her to
a present answer backe,

Commend me to my kinsmen, and my sonne,

This is not much

Clo. Not much commendation to them

La. Not much imployement for you, you vnderstand me

Clo. Most fruitfully, I am there, before my legges

La. Hast you agen.

Exeunt.

Enter Count, Lafew, and Parolles.

Ol.Laf. They say miracles are past, and we haue our Philosophicall
persons, to make moderne and familiar things supernaturall and
causelesse. Hence is it, that we make trifles of terrours, ensconcing
our selues into seeming knowledge, when we should submit our selues to
an vnknowne feare

Par. Why 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that hath shot out in
our latter times

Ros. And so 'tis

Ol.Laf. To be relinquisht of the Artists

Par. So I say both of Galen and Paracelsus

Ol.Laf. Of all the learned and authenticke fellowes

Par. Right so I say

Ol.Laf. That gaue him out incureable

Par. Why there 'tis, so say I too

Ol.Laf. Not to be help'd

Par. Right, as 'twere a man assur'd of a-   Ol.Laf. Vncertaine life,
and sure death

Par. Iust, you say well: so would I haue said

Ol.Laf. I may truly say, it is a noueltie to the world

Par. It is indeede if you will haue it in shewing, you shall reade
it in what do ye call there

Ol.Laf. A shewing of a heauenly effect in an earthly Actor

Par. That's it, I would haue said, the verie same

Ol.Laf. Why your Dolphin is not lustier: fore mee I speake in
respect-

Par. Nay 'tis strange, 'tis very straunge, that is the breefe and the
tedious of it, and he's of a most facinerious spirit, that will not
acknowledge it to be the-   Ol.Laf. Very hand of heauen

Par. I, so I say

Ol.Laf. In a most weake-

Par. And debile minister great power, great trancendence, which
should indeede giue vs a further vse to be made, then alone the
recou'ry of the king, as to bee   Old Laf. Generally thankfull.

Enter King, Hellen, and attendants.

Par. I would haue said it, you say well: heere comes the King

Ol.Laf. Lustique, as the Dutchman saies: Ile like a maide the Better
whil'st I haue a tooth in my head: why he's able to leade her a
Carranto

Par. Mor du vinager, is not this Helen?   Ol.Laf. Fore God I thinke
so

King. Goe call before mee all the Lords in Court, Sit my preseruer
by thy patients side,

And with this healthfull hand whose banisht sence Thou hast repeal'd, a
second time receyue The confirmation of my promis'd guift,

Which but attends thy naming.

Enter 3 or 4 Lords.

Faire Maide send forth thine eye, this youthfull parcell Of Noble
Batchellors, stand at my bestowing, Ore whom both Soueraigne power, and
fathers voice I haue to vse; thy franke election make,

Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake

Hel. To each of you, one faire and vertuous Mistris; Fall when loue
please, marry to each but one

Old Laf. I'de giue bay curtall, and his furniture My mouth no more
were broken then these boyes, And writ as little beard

King. Peruse them well:

Not one of those, but had a Noble father.

She addresses her to a Lord.

Hel. Gentlemen, heauen hath through me, restor'd the king to health

All. We vnderstand it, and thanke heauen for you

Hel. I am a simple Maide, and therein wealthiest That I protest, I
simply am a Maide:

Please it your Maiestie, I haue done already: The blushes in my cheekes
thus whisper mee, We blush that thou shouldst choose, but be refused;
Let the white death sit on thy cheeke for euer, Wee'l nere come there
againe

King. Make choise and see,

Who shuns thy loue, shuns all his loue in mee

Hel. Now Dian from thy Altar do I fly, And to imperiall loue, that
God most high Do my sighes streame: Sir, wil you heare my suite? 1.Lo.
And grant it

Hel. Thankes sir, all the rest is mute

Ol.Laf. I had rather be in this choise, then throw Ames-ace for my
life

Hel. The honor sir that flames in your faire eyes, Before I speake
too threatningly replies: Loue make your fortunes twentie times aboue
Her that so wishes, and her humble loue

2.Lo. No better if you please

Hel. My wish receiue,

Which great loue grant, and so I take my leaue

Ol.Laf. Do all they denie her? And they were sons of mine, I'de haue
them whip'd, or I would send them to'th Turke to make Eunuches of

Hel. Be not afraid that I your hand should take, Ile neuer do you
wrong for your owne sake: Blessing vpon your vowes, and in your bed
Finde fairer fortune, if you euer wed

Old Laf. These boyes are boyes of Ice, they'le none haue heere: sure
they are bastards to the English, the French nere got em

La. You are too young, too happie, and too good To make your selfe a
sonne out of my blood

4.Lord. Faire one, I thinke not so

Ol.Lord There's one grape yet, I am sure thy father drunke wine. But
if thou be'st not an asse, I am a youth of fourteene: I haue knowne
thee already

Hel. I dare not say I take you, but I giue Me and my seruice, euer
whilst I liue

Into your guiding power: This is the man

King. Why then young Bertram take her shee's thy wife

Ber. My wife my Leige? I shal beseech your highnes In such a
busines, giue me leaue to vse

The helpe of mine owne eies

King. Know'st thou not Bertram what shee ha's done for mee?

Ber. Yes my good Lord, but neuer hope to know why I should marrie
her

King. Thou know'st shee ha's rais'd me from my sickly bed

Ber. But followes it my Lord, to bring me downe Must answer for your
raising? I knowe her well: Shee had her breeding at my fathers charge:
A poore Physitians daughter my wife? Disdaine Rather corrupt me euer

King. Tis onely title thou disdainst in her, the which I can build
vp: strange is it that our bloods Of colour, waight, and heat, pour'd
all together, Would quite confound distinction: yet stands off In
differences so mightie. If she bee

All that is vertuous (saue what thou dislik'st) A poore Phisitians
daughter, thou dislik'st Of vertue for the name: but doe not so:

From lowest place, whence vertuous things proceed, The place is
dignified by th' doers deede. Where great additions swell's, and vertue
none, It is a dropsied honour. Good alone,

Is good without a name? Vilenesse is so:

The propertie by what is is, should go,

Not by the title. Shee is young, wise, faire, In these, to Nature
shee's immediate heire: And these breed honour: that is honours scorne,
Which challenges it selfe as honours borne, And is not like the sire:
Honours thriue, When rather from our acts we them deriue

Then our fore-goers: the meere words, a slaue Debosh'd on euerie tombe,
on euerie graue: A lying Trophee, and as oft is dumbe,

Where dust, and damn'd obliuion is the Tombe. Of honour'd bones indeed,
what should be saide? If thou canst like this creature, as a maide, I
can create the rest: Vertue, and shee

Is her owne dower: Honour and wealth, from mee

Ber. I cannot loue her, nor will striue to doo't

King. Thou wrong'st thy selfe, if thou shold'st striue to choose

Hel. That you are well restor'd my Lord, I'me glad: Let the rest go

King. My Honor's at the stake, which to defeate I must produce my
power. Heere, take her hand, Proud scornfull boy, vnworthie this good
gift, That dost in vile misprision shackle vp

My loue, and her desert: that canst not dreame, We poizing vs in her
defectiue scale,

Shall weigh thee to the beame: That wilt not know, It is in Vs to plant
thine Honour, where

We please to haue it grow. Checke thy contempt: Obey Our will, which
trauailes in thy good: Beleeue not thy disdaine, but presentlie

Do thine owne fortunes that obedient right Which both thy dutie owes,
and Our power claimes, Or I will throw thee from my care for euer Into
the staggers, and the carelesse lapse Of youth and ignorance: both my
reuenge and hate Loosing vpon thee, in the name of iustice, Without all
termes of pittie. Speake, thine answer

Ber. Pardon my gracious Lord: for I submit My fancie to your eies,
when I consider

What great creation, and what dole of honour Flies where you bid it: I
finde that she which late Was in my Nobler thoughts, most base: is now
The praised of the King, who so ennobled, Is as 'twere borne so

King. Take her by the hand,

And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise A counterpoize: If not to
thy estate,

A ballance more repleat

Ber. I take her hand

Kin. Good fortune, and the fauour of the King Smile vpon this
Contract: whose Ceremonie Shall seeme expedient on the now borne
briefe, And be perform'd to night: the solemne Feast Shall more attend
vpon the coming space,

Expecting absent friends. As thou lou'st her, Thy loue's to me
Religious: else, do's erre.

Exeunt.

Parolles and Lafew stay behind, commenting of this wedding.

Laf. Do you heare Monsieur? A word with you

Par. Your pleasure sir

Laf. Your Lord and Master did well to make his recantation

Par. Recantation? My Lord? my Master?

Laf. I: Is it not a Language I speake?

Par. A most harsh one, and not to bee vnderstoode without bloudie
succeeding. My Master?

Laf. Are you Companion to the Count Rosillion?   Par. To any Count,
to all Counts: to what is man

Laf. To what is Counts man: Counts maister is of another stile

Par. You are too old sir: Let it satisfie you, you are too old

Laf. I must tell thee sirrah, I write Man: to which title age cannot
bring thee

Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do

Laf. I did thinke thee for two ordinaries: to bee a prettie wise
fellow, thou didst make tollerable vent of thy trauell, it might passe:
yet the scarffes and the bannerets about thee, did manifoldlie disswade
me from beleeuing thee a vessell of too great a burthen. I haue now
found thee, when I loose thee againe, I care not: yet art thou good for
nothing but taking vp, and that th'ourt scarce worth

Par. Hadst thou not the priuiledge of Antiquity vpon thee

Laf. Do not plundge thy selfe to farre in anger, least thou hasten
thy triall: which if, Lord haue mercie on thee for a hen, so my good
window of Lettice fare thee well, thy casement I neede not open, for I
look through thee. Giue me thy hand

Par. My Lord, you giue me most egregious indignity

Laf. I with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it

Par. I haue not my Lord deseru'd it

Laf. Yes good faith, eu'ry dramme of it, and I will not bate thee a
scruple

Par. Well, I shall be wiser

Laf. Eu'n as soone as thou can'st, for thou hast to pull at a smacke
a'th contrarie. If euer thou bee'st bound in thy skarfe and beaten,
thou shall finde what it is to be proud of thy bondage, I haue a desire
to holde my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may
say in the default, he is a man I know

Par. My Lord you do me most insupportable vexation

Laf. I would it were hell paines for thy sake, and my poore doing
eternall: for doing I am past, as I will by thee, in what motion age
will giue me leaue. Enter.

Par. Well, thou hast a sonne shall take this disgrace off me; scuruy,
old, filthy, scuruy Lord: Well, I must be patient, there is no
fettering of authority. Ile beate him (by my life) if I can meete him
with any conuenience, and he were double and double a Lord. Ile haue no
more pittie of his age then I would haue of- Ile beate him, and if I
could but meet him agen. Enter Lafew.

Laf. Sirra, your Lord and masters married, there's newes for you: you
haue a new Mistris

Par. I most vnfainedly beseech your Lordshippe to make some
reseruation of your wrongs. He is my good Lord, whom I serue aboue is
my master

Laf. Who? God

Par. I sir

Laf. The deuill it is, that's thy master. Why dooest thou garter vp
thy armes a this fashion? Dost make hose of thy sleeues? Do other
seruants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands.
By mine Honor, if I were but two houres yonger, I'de beate thee:
mee-think'st thou art a generall offence, and euery man shold beate
thee: I thinke thou wast created for men to breath themselues vpon
thee

Par. This is hard and vndeserued measure my Lord

Laf. Go too sir, you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernell out
of a Pomgranat, you are a vagabond, and no true traueller: you are more
sawcie with Lordes and honourable personages, then the Commission of
your birth and vertue giues you Heraldry. You are not worth another
word, else I'de call you knaue. I leaue you.

Exit

Enter Count Rossillion.

Par. Good, very good, it is so then: good, very good, let it be
conceal'd awhile

Ros. Vndone, and forfeited to cares for euer

Par. What's the matter sweet-heart?

Rossill. Although before the solemne Priest I haue sworne, I will not
bed her

Par. What? what sweet heart?

Ros. O my Parrolles, they haue married me: Ile to the Tuscan warres,
and neuer bed her

Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits, The tread of a
mans foot: too'th warres

Ros. There's letters from my mother: What th' import is, I know not
yet

Par. I that would be knowne: too'th warrs my boy, too'th warres:

He weares his honor in a boxe vnseene,

That hugges his kickie wickie heare at home, Spending his manlie marrow
in her armes

Which should sustaine the bound and high curuet Of Marses fierie steed:
to other Regions, France is a stable, wee that dwell in't Iades,
Therefore too'th warre

Ros. It shall be so, Ile send her to my house, Acquaint my mother
with my hate to her,

And wherefore I am fled: Write to the King That which I durst not
speake. His present gift Shall furnish me to those Italian fields

Where noble fellowes strike: Warres is no strife To the darke house,
and the detected wife

Par. Will this Caprichio hold in thee, art sure?   Ros. Go with me
to my chamber, and aduice me. Ile send her straight away: To morrow,

Ile to the warres, she to her single sorrow

Par. Why these bals bound, ther's noise in it. Tis hard A yong man
maried, is a man that's mard:

Therefore away, and leaue her brauely: go, The King ha's done you
wrong: but hush 'tis so.

Exit

Enter Helena and Clowne.

Hel. My mother greets me kindly, is she well?   Clo. She is not well,
but yet she has her health, she's very merrie, but yet she is not well:
but thankes be giuen she's very well, and wants nothing i'th world: but
yet she is not well

Hel. If she be verie wel, what do's she ayle, that she's not verie
well?

Clo. Truly she's very well indeed, but for two things   Hel. What two
things?

Clo. One, that she's not in heauen, whether God send her quickly: the
other, that she's in earth, from whence God send her quickly.

Enter Parolles.

Par. Blesse you my fortunate Ladie

Hel. I hope sir I haue your good will to haue mine owne good
fortune

Par. You had my prayers to leade them on, and to keepe them on, haue
them still. O my knaue, how do's my old Ladie?

Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money, I would she did
as you say

Par. Why I say nothing

Clo. Marry you are the wiser man: for many a mans tongue shakes out
his masters vndoing: to say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing,
and to haue nothing, is to be a great part of your title, which is
within a verie little of nothing

Par. Away, th'art a knaue

Clo. You should haue said sir before a knaue, th'art a knaue, that's
before me th'art a knaue: this had beene truth sir

Par. Go too, thou art a wittie foole, I haue found thee

Clo. Did you finde me in your selfe sir, or were you taught to finde
me?

Clo. The search sir was profitable, and much Foole may you find in
you, euen to the worlds pleasure, and the encrease of laughter

Par. A good knaue ifaith, and well fed. Madam, my Lord will go awaie
to night,

A verie serrious businesse call's on him: The great prerogatiue and
rite of loue,

Which as your due time claimes, he do's acknowledge, But puts it off to
a compell'd restraint: Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with
sweets Which they distill now in the curbed time, To make the comming
houre oreflow with ioy, And pleasure drowne the brim

Hel. What's his will else?

Par. That you will take your instant leaue a'th king, And make this
hast as your owne good proceeding, Strengthned with what Apologie you
thinke May make it probable neede

Hel. What more commands hee?

Par. That hauing this obtain'd, you presentlie Attend his further
pleasure

Hel. In euery thing I waite vpon his will

Par. I shall report it so.

Exit Par.

Hell. I pray you come sirrah.

Exit

Enter Lafew and Bertram.

Laf. But I hope your Lordshippe thinkes not him a souldier

Ber. Yes my Lord and of verie valiant approofe

Laf. You haue it from his owne deliuerance

Ber. And by other warranted testimonie

Laf. Then my Diall goes not true, I tooke this Larke for a bunting

Ber. I do assure you my Lord he is very great in knowledge, and
accordinglie valiant

Laf. I haue then sinn'd against his experience, and transgrest
against his valour, and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot
yet find in my heart to repent: Heere he comes, I pray you make vs
freinds, I will pursue the amitie.

Enter Parolles.

Par. These things shall be done sir

Laf. Pray you sir whose his Tailor?

Par. Sir?

Laf. O I know him well, I sir, hee sirs a good workeman, a verie good
Tailor

Ber. Is shee gone to the king?

Par. Shee is

Ber. Will shee away to night?

Par. As you'le haue her

Ber. I haue writ my letters, casketted my treasure, Giuen order for
our horses, and to night, When I should take possession of the Bride,
And ere I doe begin

Laf. A good Trauailer is something at the latter end of a dinner,
but on that lies three thirds, and vses a known truth to passe a
thousand nothings with, should bee once hard, and thrice beaten. God
saue you Captaine

Ber. Is there any vnkindnes betweene my Lord and you Monsieur?

Par. I know not how I haue deserued to run into my Lords displeasure

Laf. You haue made shift to run into't, bootes and spurres and all:
like him that leapt into the Custard, and out of it you'le runne
againe, rather then suffer question for your residence

Ber. It may bee you haue mistaken him my Lord

Laf. And shall doe so euer, though I tooke him at's prayers. Fare
you well my Lord, and beleeue this of me, there can be no kernell in
this light Nut: the soule of this man is his cloathes: Trust him not in
matter of heauie consequence: I haue kept of them tame, & know their
natures. Farewell Monsieur, I haue spoken better of you, then you haue
or will to deserue at my hand, but we must do good against euill

Par. An idle Lord, I sweare

Ber. I thinke so

Par. Why do you not know him?

Ber. Yes, I do know him well, and common speech Giues him a worthy
passe. Heere comes my clog. Enter Helena.

Hel. I haue sir as I was commanded from you Spoke with the King, and
haue procur'd his leaue For present parting, onely he desires

Some priuate speech with you

Ber. I shall obey his will.

You must not meruaile Helen at my course, Which holds not colour with
the time, nor does The ministration, and required office

On my particular. Prepar'd I was not

For such a businesse, therefore am I found So much vnsetled: This
driues me to intreate you, That presently you take your way for home,
And rather muse then aske why I intreate you, For my respects are
better then they seeme, And my appointments haue in them a neede

Greater then shewes it selfe at the first view, To you that know them
not. This to my mother, 'Twill be two daies ere I shall see you, so I
leaue you to your wisedome

Hel. Sir, I can nothing say,

But that I am your most obedient seruant

Ber. Come, come, no more of that

Hel. And euer shall

With true obseruance seeke to eeke out that Wherein toward me my homely
starres haue faild To equall my great fortune

Ber. Let that goe: my hast is verie great. Farwell: Hie home

Hel. Pray sir your pardon

Ber. Well, what would you say?

Hel. I am not worthie of the wealth I owe, Nor dare I say 'tis mine:
and yet it is,

But like a timorous theefe, most faine would steale What law does vouch
mine owne

Ber. What would you haue?

Hel. Something, and scarse so much: nothing indeed, I would not tell
you what I would my Lord: Faith yes, Strangers and foes do sunder, and
not kisse

Ber. I pray you stay not, but in hast to horse

Hel. I shall not breake your bidding, good my Lord: Where are my
other men? Monsieur, farwell.

Exit

Ber. Go thou toward home, where I wil neuer come, Whilst I can shake
my sword, or heare the drumme: Away, and for our flight

Par. Brauely, Coragio.

Actus Tertius.

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, the two Frenchmen, with a troope
of

Souldiers.

Duke. So that from point to point, now haue you heard The
fundamentall reasons of this warre,

Whose great decision hath much blood let forth And more thirsts after

1.Lord. Holy seemes the quarrell

Vpon your Graces part: blacke and fearefull On the opposer

Duke. Therefore we meruaile much our Cosin France Would in so iust a
businesse, shut his bosome Against our borrowing prayers

French E. Good my Lord,

The reasons of our state I cannot yeelde, But like a common and an
outward man,

That the great figure of a Counsaile frames, By selfe vnable motion,
therefore dare not Say what I thinke of it, since I haue found My selfe
in my incertaine grounds to faile As often as I guest

Duke. Be it his pleasure

Fren.G. But I am sure the yonger of our nature, That surfet on their
ease, will day by day Come heere for Physicke

Duke. Welcome shall they bee:

And all the honors that can flye from vs, Shall on them settle: you
know your places well, When better fall, for your auailes they fell, To
morrow to'th the field.

Flourish.

Enter Countesse and Clowne.

Count. It hath happen'd all, as I would haue had it, saue that he
comes not along with her

Clo. By my troth I take my young Lord to be a verie melancholly man

Count. By what obseruance I pray you

Clo. Why he will looke vppon his boote, and sing: mend the Ruffe and
sing, aske questions and sing, picke his teeth, and sing: I know a man
that had this tricke of melancholy hold a goodly Mannor for a song

Lad. Let me see what he writes, and when he meanes to come

Clow. I haue no minde to Isbell since I was at Court. Our old Lings,
and our Isbels a'th Country, are nothing like your old Ling and your
Isbels a'th Court: the brains of my Cupid's knock'd out, and I beginne
to loue, as an old man loues money, with no stomacke

Lad. What haue we heere?

Clo. In that you haue there.

Exit

A Letter.

I haue sent you a daughter-in-Law, shee hath recouered the King, and
vndone me: I haue wedded her, not bedded her, and sworne to make the
not eternall. You shall heare I am runne away, know it before the
report come. If there bee bredth enough in the world, I will hold a
long distance. My duty to you. Your vnfortunate sonne,

Bertram.

This is not well rash and vnbridled boy,

To flye the fauours of so good a King,

To plucke his indignation on thy head,

By the misprising of a Maide too vertuous For the contempt of Empire.

Enter Clowne.

Clow. O Madam, yonder is heauie newes within betweene two souldiers,
and my yong Ladie

La. What is the matter

Clo. Nay there is some comfort in the newes, some comfort, your
sonne will not be kild so soone as I thoght he would

La. Why should he be kill'd?

Clo. So say I Madame, if he runne away, as I heare he does, the
danger is in standing too't, that's the losse of men, though it be the
getting of children. Heere they come will tell you more. For my part I
onely heare your sonne was run away.

Enter Hellen and two Gentlemen.

French E. Saue you good Madam

Hel. Madam, my Lord is gone, for euer gone

French G. Do not say so

La. Thinke vpon patience, pray you Gentlemen, I haue felt so many
quirkes of ioy and greefe, That the first face of neither on the start
Can woman me vntoo't. Where is my sonne I pray you?   Fren.G. Madam
he's gone to serue the Duke of Florence, We met him thitherward, for
thence we came: And after some dispatch in hand at Court, Thither we
bend againe

Hel. Looke on his Letter Madam, here's my Pasport. When thou canst
get the Ring vpon my finger, which neuer shall come off, and shew mee a
childe begotten of thy bodie, that I am father too, then call me
husband: but in such a (then) I write a Neuer.

This is a dreadfull sentence

La. Brought you this Letter Gentlemen?   1.G. I Madam, and for the
Contents sake are sorrie for our paines

Old La. I prethee Ladie haue a better cheere, If thou engrossest,
all the greefes are thine, Thou robst me of a moity: He was my sonne,
But I do wash his name out of my blood,

And thou art all my childe. Towards Florence is he?   Fren.G. I Madam

La. And to be a souldier

Fren.G. Such is his noble purpose, and beleeu't The Duke will lay
vpon him all the honor

That good conuenience claimes

La. Returne you thither

Fren.E. I Madam, with the swiftest wing of speed

Hel. Till I haue no wife, I haue nothing in France, 'Tis bitter

La. Finde you that there?

Hel. I Madame

Fren.E. 'Tis but the boldnesse of his hand haply, which his heart
was not consenting too

Lad. Nothing in France, vntill he haue no wife: There's nothing
heere that is too good for him But onely she, and she deserues a Lord

That twenty such rude boyes might tend vpon, And call her hourely
Mistris. Who was with him?   Fren.E. A seruant onely, and a Gentleman:
which I haue sometime knowne

La. Parolles was it not?

Fren.E. I my good Ladie, hee

La. A verie tainted fellow, and full of wickednesse, My sonne
corrupts a well deriued nature

With his inducement

Fren.E. Indeed good Ladie the fellow has a deale of that, too much,
which holds him much to haue

La. Y'are welcome Gentlemen, I will intreate you when you see my
sonne, to tell him that his sword can neuer winne the honor that he
looses: more Ile intreate you written to beare along

Fren.G. We serue you Madam in that and all your worthiest affaires

La. Not so, but as we change our courtesies, Will you draw neere?

Enter.

Hel. Till I haue no wife I haue nothing in France. Nothing in France
vntill he has no wife:

Thou shalt haue none Rossillion, none in France, Then hast thou all
againe: poore Lord, is't I That chase thee from thy Countrie, and
expose Those tender limbes of thine, to the euent Of the none-sparing
warre? And is it I,

That driue thee from the sportiue Court, where thou Was't shot at with
faire eyes, to be the marke Of smoakie Muskets? O you leaden
messengers, That ride vpon the violent speede of fire, Fly with false
ayme, moue the still-peering aire That sings with piercing, do not
touch my Lord: Who euer shoots at him, I set him there.

Who euer charges on his forward brest

I am the Caitiffe that do hold him too't, And though I kill him not, I
am the cause His death was so effected: Better 'twere

I met the rauine Lyon when he roar'd

With sharpe constraint of hunger: better 'twere, That all the miseries
which nature owes

Were mine at once. No come thou home Rossillion, Whence honor but of
danger winnes a scarre, As oft it looses all. I will be gone:

My being heere it is, that holds thee hence, Shall I stay heere to
doo't? No, no, although The ayre of Paradise did fan the house,

And Angels offic'd all: I will be gone,

That pittifull rumour may report my flight To consolate thine eare.
Come night, end day, For with the darke (poore theefe) Ile steale away.
Enter.



Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion, drum and trumpets,

soldiers, Parrolles.

Duke. The Generall of our horse thou art, and we Great in our hope,
lay our best loue and credence Vpon thy promising fortune

Ber. Sir it is

A charge too heauy for my strength, but yet Wee'l striue to beare it
for your worthy sake, To th' extreme edge of hazard

Duke. Then go thou forth,

And fortune play vpon thy prosperous helme As thy auspicious mistris

Ber. This very day

Great Mars I put my selfe into thy file,

Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proue A louer of thy drumme,
hater of loue.

Exeunt. omnes

Enter Countesse & Steward.

La. Alas! and would you take the letter of her: Might you not know
she would do, as she has done, By sending me a Letter. Reade it agen.

Letter.

I am S[aint]. Iaques Pilgrim, thither gone: Ambitious loue hath so in
me offended,

That bare-foot plod I the cold ground vpon With sainted vow my faults
to haue amended Write, write, that from the bloodie course of warre, My
deerest Master your deare sonne, may hie, Blesse him at home in peace.
Whilst I from farre, His name with zealous feruour sanctifie:

His taken labours bid him me forgiue:

I his despightfull Iuno sent him forth,

From Courtly friends, with Camping foes to liue, Where death and danger
dogges the heeles of worth. He is too good and faire for death, and
mee, Whom I my selfe embrace, to set him free. Ah what sharpe stings
are in her mildest words? Rynaldo, you did neuer lacke aduice so much,
As letting her passe so: had I spoke with her, I could haue well
diuerted her intents,

Which thus she hath preuented

Ste. Pardon me Madam,

If I had giuen you this at ouer-night,

She might haue beene ore-tane: and yet she writes Pursuite would be but
vaine

La. What Angell shall

Blesse this vnworthy husband, he cannot thriue, Vnlesse her prayers,
whom heauen delights to heare And loues to grant, repreeue him from the
wrath Of greatest Iustice. Write, write Rynaldo, To this vnworthy
husband of his wife,

Let euerie word waigh heauie of her worth, That he does waigh too
light: my greatest greefe, Though little he do feele it, set downe
sharpely. Dispatch the most conuenient messenger,

When haply he shall heare that she is gone, He will returne, and hope I
may that shee Hearing so much, will speede her foote againe, Led hither
by pure loue: which of them both Is deerest to me, I haue no skill in
sence To make distinction: prouide this Messenger: My heart is heauie,
and mine age is weake, Greefe would haue teares, and sorrow bids me
speake.

Exeunt.

A Tucket afarre off.

Enter old Widdow of Florence, her daughter Violenta and Mariana, with

other Citizens.

Widdow. Nay come,

For if they do approach the Citty,

We shall loose all the sight

Diana. They say, the French Count has done Most honourable seruice

Wid. It is reported,

That he has taken their great'st Commander, And that with his owne hand
he slew

The Dukes brother: we haue lost our labour, They are gone a contrarie
way: harke,

you may know by their Trumpets

Maria. Come lets returne againe,

And suffice our selues with the report of it. Well Diana, take heed of
this French Earle, The honor of a Maide is her name,

And no Legacie is so rich

As honestie

Widdow. I haue told my neighbour

How you haue beene solicited by a Gentleman His Companion

Maria. I know that knaue, hang him, one Parolles, a filthy Officer
he is in those suggestions for the young Earle, beware of them Diana;
their promises, entisements, oathes, tokens, and all these engines of
lust, are not the things they go vnder: many a maide hath beene seduced
by them, and the miserie is example, that so terrible shewes in the
wracke of maiden-hood, cannot for all that disswade succession, but
that they are limed with the twigges that threatens them. I hope I
neede not to aduise you further, but I hope your owne grace will keepe
you where you are, though there were no further danger knowne, but the
modestie which is so lost

Dia. You shall not neede to feare me.

Enter Hellen.

Wid. I hope so: looke here comes a pilgrim, I know she will lye at my
house, thither they send one another, Ile question her. God saue you
pilgrim, whether are bound?

Hel. To S[aint]. Iaques la grand.

Where do the Palmers lodge, I do beseech you?   Wid. At the S[aint].
Francis heere beside the Port

Hel. Is this the way?

A march afarre.

Wid. I marrie ist. Harke you, they come this way: If you will tarrie
holy Pilgrime

But till the troopes come by,

I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd, The rather for I thinke I
know your hostesse As ample as my selfe

Hel. Is it your selfe?

Wid. If you shall please so Pilgrime

Hel. I thanke you, and will stay vpon your leisure

Wid. You came I thinke from France?

Hel. I did so

Wid. Heere you shall see a Countriman of yours That has done worthy
seruice

Hel. His name I pray you?

Dia. The Count Rossillion: know you such a one?   Hel. But by the
eare that heares most nobly of him: His face I know not

Dia. What somere he is

He's brauely taken heere. He stole from France As 'tis reported: for
the King had married him Against his liking. Thinke you it is so?

Hel. I surely meere the truth, I know his Lady

Dia. There is a Gentleman that serues the Count, Reports but
coursely of her

Hel. What's his name?

Dia. Monsieur Parrolles

Hel. Oh I beleeue with him,

In argument of praise, or to the worth

Of the great Count himselfe, she is too meane To haue her name
repeated, all her deseruing Is a reserued honestie, and that

I haue not heard examin'd

Dian. Alas poore Ladie,

'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife

Of a detesting Lord

Wid. I write good creature, wheresoere she is, Her hart waighes
sadly: this yong maid might do her A shrewd turne if she pleas'd

Hel. How do you meane?

May be the amorous Count solicites her

In the vnlawfull purpose

Wid. He does indeede,

And brokes with all that can in such a suite Corrupt the tender honour
of a Maide:

But she is arm'd for him, and keepes her guard In honestest defence.

Drumme and Colours. Enter Count Rossillion, Parrolles, and the whole

Armie.

Mar. The goddes forbid else

Wid. So, now they come:

That is Anthonio the Dukes eldest sonne,

That Escalus

Hel. Which is the Frenchman?

Dia. Hee,

That with the plume, 'tis a most gallant fellow, I would he lou'd his
wife: if he were honester He were much goodlier. Is't not a handsom
Gentleman   Hel. I like him well

Di. 'Tis pitty he is not honest: yonds that same knaue That leades
him to these places: were I his Ladie, I would poison that vile
Rascall

Hel. Which is he?

Dia. That Iacke-an-apes with scarfes. Why is hee melancholly?

Hel. Perchance he's hurt i'th battaile

Par. Loose our drum? Well

Mar. He's shrewdly vext at something. Looke he has spyed vs

Wid. Marrie hang you

Mar. And your curtesie, for a ring-carrier. Enter.

Wid. The troope is past: Come pilgrim, I wil bring you, Where you
shall host: Of inioyn'd penitents There's foure or fiue, to great
S[aint]. Iaques bound, Alreadie at my house

Hel. I humbly thanke you:

Please it this Matron, and this gentle Maide To eate with vs to night,
the charge and thanking Shall be for me, and to requite you further, I
will bestow some precepts of this Virgin, Worthy the note

Both. Wee'l take your offer kindly.

Exeunt.

Enter Count Rossillion and the Frenchmen, as at first.

Cap.E. Nay good my Lord put him too't: let him haue his way

Cap.G. If your Lordshippe finde him not a Hilding, hold me no more
in your respect

Cap.E. On my life my Lord, a bubble

Ber. Do you thinke I am so farre

Deceiued in him

Cap.E. Beleeue it my Lord, in mine owne direct knowledge, without
any malice, but to speake of him as my kinsman, hee's a most notable
Coward, an infinite and endlesse Lyar, an hourely promise-breaker, the
owner of no one good qualitie, worthy your Lordships entertainment

Cap.G. It were fit you knew him, least reposing too farre in his
vertue which he hath not, he might at some great and trustie businesse,
in a maine daunger, fayle you

Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try him

Cap.G. None better then to let him fetch off his drumme, which you
heare him so confidently vndertake to do

C.E. I with a troop of Florentines wil sodainly surprize him; such I
will haue whom I am sure he knowes not from the enemie: wee will binde
and hoodwinke him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is
carried into the Leager of the aduersaries, when we bring him to our
owne tents: be but your Lordship present at his examination, if he do
not for the promise of his life, and in the highest compulsion of base
feare, offer to betray you, and deliuer all the intelligence in his
power against you, and that with the diuine forfeite of his soule vpon
oath, neuer trust my iudgement in anie thing

Cap.G. O for the loue of laughter, let him fetch his drumme, he
sayes he has a stratagem for't: when your Lordship sees the bottome of
this successe in't, and to what mettle this counterfeyt lump of ours
will be melted if you giue him not Iohn drummes entertainement, your
inclining cannot be remoued. Heere he comes. Enter Parrolles.

Cap.E. O for the loue of laughter hinder not the honor of his
designe, let him fetch off his drumme in any hand

Ber. How now Monsieur? This drumme sticks sorely in your
disposition

Cap.G. A pox on't, let it go, 'tis but a drumme

Par. But a drumme: Ist but a drumme? A drum so lost. There was
excellent command, to charge in with our horse vpon our owne wings, and
to rend our owne souldiers

Cap.G. That was not to be blam'd in the command of the seruice: it
was a disaster of warre that Csar him selfe could not haue preuented,
if he had beene there to command

Ber. Well, wee cannot greatly condemne our successe: some dishonor
wee had in the losse of that drum, but it is not to be recouered

Par. It might haue beene recouered

Ber. It might, but it is not now

Par. It is to be recouered, but that the merit of seruice is sildome
attributed to the true and exact performer, I would haue that drumme or
another, or hic iacet

Ber. Why if you haue a stomacke, too't Monsieur: if you thinke your
mysterie in stratagem, can bring this instrument of honour againe into
his natiue quarter, be magnanimious in the enterprize and go on, I wil
grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speede well in it, the
Duke shall both speake of it, and extend to you what further becomes
his greatnesse, euen to the vtmost syllable of your worthinesse

Par. By the hand of a souldier I will vndertake it

Ber. But you must not now slumber in it

Par. Ile about it this euening, and I will presently pen downe my
dilemma's, encourage my selfe in my certaintie, put my selfe into my
mortall preparation: and by midnight looke to heare further from me

Ber. May I bee bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it

Par. I know not what the successe wil be my Lord, but the attempt I
vow

Ber. I know th'art valiant,

And to the possibility of thy souldiership, Will subscribe for thee:
Farewell

Par. I loue not many words.

Exit

Cap.E. No more then a fish loues water. Is not this a strange fellow
my Lord, that so confidently seemes to vndertake this businesse, which
he knowes is not to be done, damnes himselfe to do, & dares better be
damnd then to doo't

Cap.G. You do not know him my Lord as we doe, certaine it is that he
will steale himselfe into a mans fauour, and for a weeke escape a great
deale of discoueries, but when you finde him out, you haue him euer
after

Ber. Why do you thinke he will make no deede at all of this that so
seriouslie hee dooes addresse himselfe vnto?

Cap.E. None in the world, but returne with an inuention, and clap
vpon you two or three probable lies: but we haue almost imbost him, you
shall see his fall to night; for indeede he is not for your Lordshippes
respect

Cap.G. Weele make you some sport with the Foxe ere we case him. He
was first smoak'd by the old Lord Lafew, when his disguise and he is
parted, tell me what a sprat you shall finde him, which you shall see
this verie night

Cap.E. I must go looke my twigges,

He shall be caught

Ber. Your brother he shall go along with me

Cap.G. As't please your Lordship, Ile leaue you

Ber. Now wil I lead you to the house, and shew you The Lasse I spoke
of

Cap.E. But you say she's honest

Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with hir but once, And found her
wondrous cold, but I sent to her By this same Coxcombe that we haue
i'th winde Tokens and Letters, which she did resend, And this is all I
haue done: She's a faire creature, Will you go see her?

Cap.E. With all my heart my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hellen, and Widdow.

Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not shee, I know not how I shall
assure you further, But I shall loose the grounds I worke vpon

Wid. Though my estate be falne, I was well borne, Nothing acquainted
with these businesses, And would not put my reputation now

In any staining act

Hel. Nor would I wish you.

First giue me trust, the Count he is my husband, And what to your
sworne counsaile I haue spoken, Is so from word to word: and then you
cannot By the good ayde that I of you shall borrow, Erre in bestowing
it

Wid. I should beleeue you,

For you haue shew'd me that which well approues Y'are great in fortune

Hel. Take this purse of Gold,

And let me buy your friendly helpe thus farre, Which I will ouer-pay,
and pay againe

When I haue found it. The Count he woes your daughter,

Layes downe his wanton siedge before her beautie, Resolue to carrie
her: let her in fine consent As wee'l direct her how 'tis best to beare
it: Now his important blood will naught denie, That shee'l demand: a
ring the Countie weares, That downward hath succeeded in his house From
sonne to sonne, some foure or fiue discents, Since the first father
wore it. This Ring he holds In most rich choice: yet in his idle fire,
To buy his will, it would not seeme too deere, How ere repented after

Wid. Now I see the bottome of your purpose

Hel. You see it lawfull then, it is no more, But that your daughter
ere she seemes as wonne, Desires this Ring; appoints him an encounter;
In fine, deliuers me to fill the time,

Her selfe most chastly absent: after

To marry her, Ile adde three thousand Crownes To what is past already

Wid. I haue yeelded:

Instruct my daughter how she shall perseuer, That time and place with
this deceite so lawfull May proue coherent. Euery night he comes

With Musickes of all sorts, and songs compos'd To her vnworthinesse: It
nothing steeds vs To chide him from our eeues, for he persists As if
his life lay on't

Hel. Why then to night

Let vs assay our plot, which if it speed, Is wicked meaning in a
lawfull deede;

And lawfull meaning in a lawfull act,

Where both not sinne, and yet a sinfull fact. But let's about it.

Actus Quartus.

Enter one of the Frenchmen, with fiue or sixe other souldiers in
ambush.

Lord E. He can come no other way but by this hedge corner: when you
sallie vpon him, speake what terrible Language you will: though you
vnderstand it not your selues, no matter: for we must not seeme to
vnderstand him, vnlesse some one among vs, whom wee must produce for an
Interpreter

1.Sol. Good Captaine, let me be th' Interpreter

Lor.E. Art not acquainted with him? knowes he not thy voice?

1.Sol. No sir I warrant you

Lo.E. But what linsie wolsy hast thou to speake to vs againe

1.Sol. E'n such as you speake to me

Lo.E. He must thinke vs some band of strangers, i'th aduersaries
entertainment. Now he hath a smacke of all neighbouring Languages:
therefore we must euery one be a man of his owne fancie, not to know
what we speak one to another: so we seeme to know, is to know straight
our purpose: Choughs language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for
you interpreter, you must seeme very politicke. But couch hoa, heere
hee comes, to beguile two houres in a sleepe, and then to returne &
swear the lies he forges.

Enter Parrolles.

Par. Ten a clocke: Within these three houres 'twill be time enough to
goe home. What shall I say I haue done? It must bee a very plausiue
inuention that carries it. They beginne to smoake mee, and disgraces
haue of late, knock'd too often at my doore: I finde my tongue is too
foole-hardie, but my heart hath the feare of Mars before it, and of his
creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue

Lo.E. This is the first truth that ere thine own tongue was guiltie
of

Par. What the diuell should moue mee to vndertake the recouerie of
this drumme, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had
no such purpose? I must giue my selfe some hurts, and say I got them in
exploit: yet slight ones will not carrie it. They will say, came you
off with so little? And great ones I dare not giue, wherefore what's
the instance. Tongue, I must put you into a Butter-womans mouth, and
buy my selfe another of Baiazeths Mule, if you prattle mee into these
perilles

Lo.E. Is it possible he should know what hee is, and be that he is

Par. I would the cutting of my garments wold serue the turne, or the
breaking of my Spanish sword

Lo.E. We cannot affoord you so

Par. Or the baring of my beard, and to say it was in stratagem

Lo.E. 'Twould not do

Par. Or to drowne my cloathes, and say I was stript

Lo.E. Hardly serue

Par. Though I swore I leapt from the window of the Citadell

Lo.E. How deepe?

Par. Thirty fadome

Lo.E. Three great oathes would scarse make that be beleeued

Par. I would I had any drumme of the enemies, I would sweare I
recouer'd it

Lo.E. You shall heare one anon

Par. A drumme now of the enemies.

Alarum within.

Lo.E. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo

All. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo

Par. O ransome, ransome,

Do not hide mine eyes

Inter. Boskos thromuldo boskos

Par. I know you are the Muskos Regiment, And I shall loose my life
for want of language. If there be heere German or Dane, Low Dutch,
Italian, or French, let him speake to me, Ile discouer that, which shal
vndo the Florentine

Int. Boskos vauvado, I vnderstand thee, & can speake thy tongue:
Kerelybonto sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seuenteene ponyards are
at thy bosome

Par. Oh

Inter. Oh pray, pray, pray,

Manka reuania dulche

Lo.E. Oscorbidulchos voliuorco

Int. The Generall is content to spare thee yet, And hoodwinkt as
thou art, will leade thee on To gather from thee. Haply thou mayst
informe Something to saue thy life

Par. O let me liue,

And all the secrets of our campe Ile shew, Their force, their purposes:
Nay, Ile speake that, Which you will wonder at

Inter. But wilt thou faithfully?

Par. If I do not, damne me

Inter. Acordo linta.

Come on, thou are granted space.

Exit



A short Alarum within.

L.E. Go tell the Count Rossillion and my brother, We haue caught the
woodcocke, and will keepe him mufled Till we do heare from them

Sol. Captaine I will

L.E. A will betray vs all vnto our selues, Informe on that

Sol. So I will sir

L.E. Till then Ile keepe him darke and safely lockt.

Exit

Enter Bertram, and the Maide called Diana.

Ber. They told me that your name was Fontybell

Dia. No my good Lord, Diana

Ber. Titled Goddesse,

And worth it with addition: but faire soule, In your fine frame hath
loue no qualitie? If the quicke fire of youth light not your minde, You
are no Maiden but a monument

When you are dead you should be such a one As you are now: for you are
cold and sterne, And now you should be as your mother was

When your sweet selfe was got

Dia. She then was honest

Ber. So should you be

Dia. No:

My mother did but dutie, such (my Lord)

As you owe to your wife

Ber. No more a'that:

I prethee do not striue against my vowes: I was compell'd to her, but I
loue thee

By loues owne sweet constraint, and will for euer Do thee all rights of
seruice

Dia. I so you serue vs

Till we serue you: But when you haue our Roses, You barely leaue our
thornes to pricke our selues, And mocke vs with our barenesse

Ber. How haue I sworne

Dia. Tis not the many oathes that makes the truth, But the plaine
single vow, that is vow'd true: What is not holie, that we sweare not
by, But take the high'st to witnesse: then pray you tell me, If I
should sweare by Ioues great attributes, I lou'd you deerely, would you
beleeue my oathes, When I did loue you ill? This ha's no holding To
sweare by him whom I protest to loue

That I will worke against him. Therefore your oathes Are words and
poore conditions, but vnseal'd At lest in my opinion

Ber. Change it, change it:

Be not so holy cruell: Loue is holie,

And my integritie ne're knew the crafts

That you do charge men with: Stand no more off, But giue thy selfe vnto
my sicke desires, Who then recouers. Say thou art mine, and euer My
loue as it beginnes, shall so perseuer

Dia. I see that men make rope's in such a scarre, That wee'l forsake
our selues. Giue me that Ring

Ber. Ile lend it thee my deere; but haue no power To giue it from
me

Dia. Will you not my Lord?

Ber. It is an honour longing to our house, Bequeathed downe from
manie Ancestors,

Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world, In me to loose

Dian. Mine Honors such a Ring,

My chastities the Iewell of our house,

Bequeathed downe from many Ancestors,

Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world, In mee to loose. Thus your
owne proper wisedome Brings in the Champion honor on my part,

Against your vaine assault

Ber. Heere, take my Ring,

My house, mine honor, yea my life be thine, And Ile be bid by thee

Dia. When midnight comes, knocke at my chamber window:

Ile order take, my mother shall not heare. Now will I charge you in the
band of truth, When you haue conquer'd my yet maiden-bed, Remaine there
but an houre, nor speake to mee: My reasons are most strong, and you
shall know them, When backe againe this Ring shall be deliuer'd: And on
your finger in the night, Ile put

Another Ring, that what in time proceeds, May token to the future, our
past deeds.

Adieu till then, then faile not: you haue wonne A wife of me, though
there my hope be done

Ber. A heauen on earth I haue won by wooing thee

Di. For which, liue long to thank both heauen & me, You may so in
the end.

My mother told me iust how he would woo,

As if she sate in's heart. She sayes, all men Haue the like oathes: He
had sworne to marrie me When his wife's dead: therfore Ile lye with him
When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braide, Marry that will, I
liue and die a Maid:

Onely in this disguise, I think't no sinne, To cosen him that would
vniustly winne.

Exit

Enter the two French Captaines, and some two or three Souldiours.

Cap.G. You haue not giuen him his mothers letter

Cap.E. I haue deliu'red it an houre since, there is som thing in't
that stings his nature: for on the reading it, he chang'd almost into
another man

Cap.G. He has much worthy blame laid vpon him, for shaking off so
good a wife, and so sweet a Lady

Cap.E. Especially, hee hath incurred the euerlasting displeasure of
the King, who had euen tun'd his bounty to sing happinesse to him. I
will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you

Cap.G. When you haue spoken it 'tis dead, and I am the graue of it

Cap.E. Hee hath peruerted a young Gentlewoman heere in Florence, of
a most chaste renown, & this night he fleshes his will in the spoyle of
her honour: hee hath giuen her his monumentall Ring, and thinkes
himselfe made in the vnchaste composition

Cap.G. Now God delay our rebellion as we are our selues, what things
are we

Cap.E. Meerely our owne traitours. And as in the common course of
all treasons, we still see them reueale themselues, till they attaine
to their abhorr'd ends: so he that in this action contriues against his
owne Nobility in his proper streame, ore-flowes himselfe

Cap.G. Is it not meant damnable in vs, to be Trumpeters of our
vnlawfull intents? We shall not then haue his company to night?

Cap.E. Not till after midnight: for hee is dieted to his houre

Cap.G. That approaches apace: I would gladly haue him see his
company anathomiz'd, that hee might take a measure of his owne
iudgements, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit

Cap.E. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence
must be the whip of the other

Cap.G. In the meane time, what heare you of these Warres?

Cap.E. I heare there is an ouerture of peace

Cap.G. Nay, I assure you a peace concluded

Cap.E. What will Count Rossillion do then? Will he trauaile higher,
or returne againe into France?   Cap.G. I perceiue by this demand, you
are not altogether of his councell

Cap.E. Let it be forbid sir, so should I bee a great deale of his
act

Cap.G. Sir, his wife some two months since fledde from his house,
her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Iaques le grand; which holy
vndertaking, with most austere sanctimonie she accomplisht: and there
residing, the tendernesse of her Nature, became as a prey to her
greefe: in fine, made a groane of her last breath, & now she sings in
heauen

Cap.E. How is this iustified?

Cap.G. The stronger part of it by her owne Letters, which makes her
storie true, euen to the poynt of her death: her death it selfe, which
could not be her office to say, is come: was faithfully confirm'd by
the Rector of the place

Cap.E. Hath the Count all this intelligence?   Cap.G. I, and the
particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the
veritie

Cap.E. I am heartily sorrie that hee'l bee gladde of this

Cap.G. How mightily sometimes, we make vs comforts of our losses

Cap.E. And how mightily some other times, wee drowne our gaine in
teares, the great dignitie that his valour hath here acquir'd for him,
shall at home be encountred with a shame as ample

Cap.G. The webbe of our life, is of a mingled yarne, good and ill
together: our vertues would bee proud, if our faults whipt them not,
and our crimes would dispaire if they were not cherish'd by our
vertues. Enter a Messenger.

How now? Where's your master?

Ser. He met the Duke in the street sir, of whom hee hath taken a
solemne leaue: his Lordshippe will next morning for France. The Duke
hath offered him Letters of commendations to the King

Cap.E. They shall bee no more then needfull there, if they were more
then they can commend.

Enter Count Rossillion.

Ber. They cannot be too sweete for the Kings tartnesse, heere's his
Lordship now. How now my Lord, i'st not after midnight?

Ber. I haue to night dispatch'd sixteene businesses, a moneths length
a peece, by an abstract of successe: I haue congied with the Duke, done
my adieu with his neerest; buried a wife, mourn'd for her, writ to my
Ladie mother, I am returning, entertain'd my Conuoy, & betweene these
maine parcels of dispatch, affected many nicer needs: the last was the
greatest, but that I haue not ended yet

Cap.E. If the businesse bee of any difficulty, and this morning your
departure hence, it requires hast of your Lordship

Ber. I meane the businesse is not ended, as fearing to heare of it
hereafter: but shall we haue this dialogue betweene the Foole and the
Soldiour. Come, bring forth this counterfet module, ha's deceiu'd mee,
like a double-meaning Prophesier

Cap.E. Bring him forth, ha's sate i'th stockes all night poore
gallant knaue

Ber. No matter, his heeles haue deseru'd it, in vsurping his spurres
so long. How does he carry himselfe?   Cap.E. I haue told your Lordship
alreadie: The stockes carrie him. But to answer you as you would be
vnderstood, hee weepes like a wench that had shed her milke, he hath
confest himselfe to Morgan, whom hee supposes to be a Friar, fro[m] the
time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting
i'th stockes: and what thinke you he hath confest?

Ber. Nothing of me, ha's a?

Cap.E. His confession is taken, and it shall bee read to his face, if
your Lordshippe be in't, as I beleeue you are, you must haue the
patience to heare it. Enter Parolles with his Interpreter.

Ber. A plague vpon him, muffeld; he can say nothing of me: hush,
hush

Cap.G. Hoodman comes: Portotartarossa

Inter. He calles for the tortures, what will you say without em

Par. I will confesse what I know without constraint, If ye pinch me
like a Pasty, I can say no more

Int. Bosko Chimurcho

Cap. Boblibindo chicurmurco

Int. You are a mercifull Generall: Our Generall bids you answer to
what I shall aske you out of a Note

Par. And truly, as I hope to liue

Int. First demand of him, how many horse the Duke is strong. What
say you to that?

Par. Fiue or sixe thousand, but very weake and vnseruiceable: the
troopes are all scattered, and the Commanders verie poore rogues, vpon
my reputation and credit, and as I hope to liue

Int. Shall I set downe your answer so?   Par. Do, Ile take the
Sacrament on't, how & which way you will: all's one to him

Ber. What a past-sauing slaue is this?   Cap.G. Y'are deceiu'd my
Lord, this is Mounsieur Parrolles the gallant militarist, that was his
owne phrase that had the whole theoricke of warre in the knot of his
scarfe, and the practise in the chape of his dagger

Cap.E. I will neuer trust a man againe, for keeping his sword
cleane, nor beleeue he can haue euerie thing in him, by wearing his
apparrell neatly

Int. Well, that's set downe

Par. Fiue or six thousand horse I sed, I will say true, or
thereabouts set downe, for Ile speake truth

Cap.G. He's very neere the truth in this

Ber. But I con him no thankes for't in the nature he deliuers it

Par. Poore rogues, I pray you say

Int. Well, that's set downe

Par. I humbly thanke you sir, a truth's a truth, the Rogues are
maruailous poore

Interp. Demaund of him of what strength they are a foot. What say
you to that?

Par. By my troth sir, if I were to liue this present houre, I will
tell true. Let me see, Spurio a hundred & fiftie, Sebastian so many,
Corambus so many, Iaques so many: Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowicke, and
Gratij, two hundred fiftie each: Mine owne Company, Chitopher, Vaumond,
Bentij, two hundred fiftie each: so that the muster file, rotten and
sound, vppon my life amounts not to fifteene thousand pole, halfe of
the which, dare not shake the snow from off their Cassockes, least they
shake themselues to peeces

Ber. What shall be done to him?

Cap.G. Nothing, but let him haue thankes. Demand of him my condition:
and what credite I haue with the Duke

Int. Well that's set downe: you shall demaund of him, whether one
Captaine Dumaine bee i'th Campe, a Frenchman: what his reputation is
with the Duke, what his valour, honestie, and expertnesse in warres: or
whether he thinkes it were not possible with well-waighing summes of
gold to corrupt him to a reuolt. What say you to this? What do you know
of it?

Par. I beseech you let me answer to the particular of the
intergatories. Demand them singly

Int. Do you know this Captaine Dumaine?   Par. I know him, a was a
Botchers Prentize in Paris, from whence he was whipt for getting the
Shrieues fool with childe, a dumbe innocent that could not say him nay

Ber. Nay, by your leaue hold your hands, though I know his braines
are forfeite to the next tile that fals

Int. Well, is this Captaine in the Duke of Florences campe?

Par. Vpon my knowledge he is, and lowsie

Cap.G. Nay looke not so vpon me: we shall heare of your Lord anon

Int. What is his reputation with the Duke?   Par. The Duke knowes
him for no other, but a poore Officer of mine, and writ to mee this
other day, to turne him out a'th band. I thinke I haue his Letter in my
pocket

Int. Marry we'll search

Par. In good sadnesse I do not know, either it is there, or it is
vpon a file with the Dukes other Letters, in my Tent

Int. Heere 'tis, heere's a paper, shall I reade it to you?   Par. I
do not know if it be it or no

Ber. Our Interpreter do's it well

Cap.G. Excellently

Int. Dian, the Counts a foole, and full of gold

Par. That is not the Dukes letter sir: that is an aduertisement to a
proper maide in Florence, one Diana, to take heede of the allurement of
one Count Rossillion, a foolish idle boy: but for all that very
ruttish. I pray you sir put it vp againe

Int. Nay, Ile reade it first by your fauour

Par. My meaning in't I protest was very honest in the behalfe of the
maid: for I knew the young Count to be a dangerous and lasciuious boy,
who is a whale to Virginity, and deuours vp all the fry it finds

Ber. Damnable both-sides rogue

Int.

Let.

When he sweares oathes, bid him drop gold, and take it:

After he scores, he neuer payes the score: Halfe won is match well
made, match and well make it, He nere payes after-debts, take it
before, And say a souldier (Dian) told thee this: Men are to mell with,
boyes are not to kis. For count of this, the Counts a Foole I know it,
Who payes before, but not when he does owe it. Thine as he vow'd to
thee in thine eare,

Parolles

Ber. He shall be whipt through the Armie with this rime in's
forehead

Cap.E. This is your deuoted friend sir, the manifold Linguist, and
the army-potent souldier

Ber. I could endure any thing before but a Cat, and now he's a Cat
to me

Int. I perceiue sir by your Generals lookes, wee shall be faine to
hang you

Par. My life sir in any case: Not that I am afraide to dye, but that
my offences beeing many, I would repent out the remainder of Nature.
Let me liue sir in a dungeon, i'th stockes, or any where, so I may
liue

Int. Wee'le see what may bee done, so you confesse freely: therefore
once more to this Captaine Dumaine: you haue answer'd to his reputation
with the Duke, and to his valour. What is his honestie?

Par. He will steale sir an Egge out of a Cloister: for rapes and
rauishments he paralels Nessus. Hee professes not keeping of oaths, in
breaking em he is stronger then Hercules. He will lye sir, with such
volubilitie, that you would thinke truth were a foole: drunkennesse is
his best vertue, for he will be swine-drunke, and in his sleepe he does
little harme, saue to his bed-cloathes about him: but they know his
conditions, and lay him in straw. I haue but little more to say sir of
his honesty, he ha's euerie thing that an honest man should not haue;
what an honest man should haue, he has nothing

Cap.G. I begin to loue him for this

Ber. For this description of thine honestie? A pox vpon him for me,
he's more and more a Cat

Int. What say you to his expertnesse in warre?   Par. Faith sir,
ha's led the drumme before the English Tragedians: to belye him I will
not, and more of his souldiership I know not, except in that Country,
he had the honour to be the Officer at a place there called Mile-end,
to instruct for the doubling of files. I would doe the man what honour
I can, but of this I am not certaine

Cap.G. He hath out-villain'd villanie so farre, that the raritie
redeemes him

Ber. A pox on him, he's a Cat still

Int. His qualities being at this poore price, I neede not to aske
you, if Gold will corrupt him to reuolt

Par. Sir, for a Cardceue he will sell the fee-simple of his
saluation, the inheritance of it, and cut th' intaile from all
remainders, and a perpetuall succession for it perpetually

Int. What's his Brother, the other Captain Dumain?   Cap.E. Why do's
he aske him of me?

Int. What's he?

Par. E'ne a Crow a'th same nest: not altogether so great as the first
in goodnesse, but greater a great deale in euill. He excels his Brother
for a coward, yet his Brother is reputed one of the best that is. In a
retreate hee outrunnes any Lackey; marrie in comming on, hee ha's the
Crampe

Int. If your life be saued, will you vndertake to betray the
Florentine

Par. I, and the Captaine of his horse, Count Rossillion

Int. Ile whisper with the Generall, and knowe his pleasure

Par. Ile no more drumming, a plague of all drummes, onely to seeme
to deserue well, and to beguile the supposition of that lasciuious yong
boy the Count, haue I run into this danger: yet who would haue
suspected an ambush where I was taken?

Int. There is no remedy sir, but you must dye: the Generall sayes,
you that haue so traitorously discouerd the secrets of your army, and
made such pestifferous reports of men very nobly held, can serue the
world for no honest vse: therefore you must dye. Come headesman, off
with his head

Par. O Lord sir let me liue, or let me see my death

Int. That shall you, and take your leaue of all your friends:

So, looke about you, know you any heere?

Count. Good morrow noble Captaine

Lo.E. God blesse you Captaine Parolles

Cap.G. God saue you noble Captaine

Lo.E. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafew? I am for
France

Cap.G. Good Captaine will you giue me a Copy of the sonnet you writ
to Diana in behalfe of the Count Rossillion, and I were not a verie
Coward, I'de compell it of you, but far you well.

Exeunt.

Int. You are vndone Captaine all but your scarfe, that has a knot
on't yet

Par. Who cannot be crush'd with a plot?   Inter. If you could finde
out a Countrie where but women were that had receiued so much shame,
you might begin an impudent Nation. Fare yee well sir, I am for France
too, we shall speake of you there.

Exit

Par. Yet am I thankfull: if my heart were great 'Twould burst at
this: Captaine Ile be no more, But I will eate, and drinke, and sleepe
as soft As Captaine shall. Simply the thing I am

Shall make me liue: who knowes himselfe a braggart Let him feare this;
for it will come to passe, That euery braggart shall be found an Asse.
Rust sword, coole blushes, and Parrolles liue Safest in shame: being
fool'd, by fool'rie thriue; There's place and meanes for euery man
aliue. Ile after them.

Enter.

Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana.

Hel. That you may well perceiue I haue not wrong'd you,

One of the greatest in the Christian world Shall be my suretie: for
whose throne 'tis needfull Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneele.
Time was, I did him a desired office

Deere almost as his life, which gratitude Through flintie Tartars
bosome would peepe forth, And answer thankes. I duly am inform'd,

His grace is at Marcellae, to which place We haue conuenient conuoy:
you must know

I am supposed dead, the Army breaking,

My husband hies him home, where heauen ayding, And by the leaue of my
good Lord the King, Wee'l be before our welcome

Wid. Gentle Madam,

You neuer had a seruant to whose trust

Your busines was more welcome

Hel. Nor your Mistris

Euer a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour To recompence your
loue: Doubt not but heauen Hath brought me vp to be your daughters
dower, As it hath fated her to be my motiue

And helper to a husband. But O strange men, That can such sweet vse
make of what they hate, When sawcie trusting of the cosin'd thoughts
Defiles the pitchy night, so lust doth play With what it loathes, for
that which is away, But more of this heereafter: you Diana,

Vnder my poore instructions yet must suffer Something in my behalfe

Dia. Let death and honestie

Go with your impositions, I am yours

Vpon your will to suffer

Hel. Yet I pray you:

But with the word the time will bring on summer, When Briars shall haue
leaues as well as thornes, And be as sweet as sharpe: we must away,

Our Wagon is prepar'd, and time reuiues vs, All's well that ends well,
still the fines the Crowne; What ere the course, the end is the
renowne.

Exeunt.

Enter Clowne, old Lady, and Lafew.

Laf. No, no, no, your sonne was misled with a snipt taffata fellow
there, whose villanous saffron wold haue made all the vnbak'd and dowy
youth of a nation in his colour: your daughter-in-law had beene aliue
at this houre, and your sonne heere at home, more aduanc'd by the King,
then by that red-tail'd humble Bee I speak of

La. I would I had not knowne him, it was the death of the most
vertuous gentlewoman, that euer Nature had praise for creating. If she
had pertaken of my flesh and cost mee the deerest groanes of a mother,
I could not haue owed her a more rooted loue

Laf. Twas a good Lady, 'twas a good Lady. Wee may picke a thousand
sallets ere wee light on such another hearbe

Clo. Indeed sir she was the sweete Margerom of the sallet, or rather
the hearbe of grace

Laf. They are not hearbes you knaue, they are nose-hearbes

Clowne. I am no great Nabuchadnezar sir, I haue not much skill in
grace

Laf. Whether doest thou professe thy selfe, a knaue or a foole?

Clo. A foole sir at a womans seruice, and a knaue at a mans

Laf. Your distinction

Clo. I would cousen the man of his wife, and do his seruice

Laf. So you were a knaue at his seruice indeed

Clo. And I would giue his wife my bauble sir to doe her seruice

Laf. I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knaue and foole

Clo. At your seruice

Laf. No, no, no

Clo. Why sir, if I cannot serue you, I can serue as great a prince
as you are

Laf. Whose that, a Frenchman?

Clo. Faith sir a has an English maine, but his fisnomie is more
hotter in France then there

Laf. What prince is that?

Clo. The blacke prince sir, alias the prince of darkenesse, alias the
diuell

Laf. Hold thee there's my purse, I giue thee not this to suggest
thee from thy master thou talk'st off, serue him still

Clo. I am a woodland fellow sir, that alwaies loued a great fire,
and the master I speak of euer keeps a good fire, but sure he is the
Prince of the world, let his Nobilitie remaine in's Court. I am for the
house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pompe to
enter: some that humble themselues may, but the manie will be too chill
and tender, and theyle bee for the flowrie way that leads to the broad
gate, and the great fire

Laf. Go thy waies, I begin to bee a wearie of thee, and I tell thee
so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy wayes, let my
horses be wel look'd too, without any trickes

Clo. If I put any trickes vpon em sir, they shall bee Iades trickes,
which are their owne right by the law of Nature.

Exit

Laf. A shrewd knaue and an vnhappie

Lady. So a is. My Lord that's gone made himselfe much sport out of
him, by his authoritie hee remaines heere, which he thinkes is a
pattent for his sawcinesse, and indeede he has no pace, but runnes
where he will

Laf. I like him well, 'tis not amisse: and I was about to tell you,
since I heard of the good Ladies death, and that my Lord your sonne was
vpon his returne home. I moued the King my master to speake in the
behalfe of my daughter, which in the minoritie of them both, his
Maiestie out of a selfe gracious remembrance did first propose, his
Highnesse hath promis'd me to doe it, and to stoppe vp the displeasure
he hath conceiued against your sonne, there is no fitter matter. How
do's your Ladyship like it?

La. With verie much content my Lord, and I wish it happily effected

Laf. His Highnesse comes post from Marcellus, of as able bodie as
when he number'd thirty, a will be heere to morrow, or I am deceiu'd by
him that in such intelligence hath seldome fail'd

La. It reioyces me, that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I haue
letters that my sonne will be heere to night: I shall beseech your
Lordship to remaine with mee, till they meete together

Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be
admitted

Lad. You neede but pleade your honourable priuiledge

Laf. Ladie, of that I haue made a bold charter, but I thanke my God,
it holds yet.

Enter Clowne.

Clo. O Madam, yonders my Lord your sonne with a patch of veluet on's
face, whether there bee a scar vnder't or no, the Veluet knowes, but
'tis a goodly patch of Veluet, his left cheeke is a cheeke of two pile
and a halfe, but his right cheeke is worne bare

Laf. A scarre nobly got,

Or a noble scarre, is a good liu'rie of honor, So belike is that

Clo. But it is your carbinado'd face

Laf. Let vs go see

your sonne I pray you, I long to talke

With the yong noble souldier

Clowne. 'Faith there's a dozen of em, with delicate fine hats, and
most courteous feathers, which bow the head, and nod at euerie man.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana, with two Attendants.

Hel. But this exceeding posting day and night, Must wear your spirits
low, we cannot helpe it: But since you haue made the daies and nights
as one, To weare your gentle limbes in my affayres, Be bold you do so
grow in my requitall,

As nothing can vnroote you. In happie time, Enter a gentle Astringer.

This man may helpe me to his Maiesties eare, If he would spend his
power. God saue you sir

Gent. And you

Hel. Sir, I haue seene you in the Court of France

Gent. I haue beene sometimes there

Hel. I do presume sir, that you are not falne From the report that
goes vpon your goodnesse, And therefore goaded with most sharpe
occasions, Which lay nice manners by, I put you to

The vse of your owne vertues, for the which I shall continue
thankefull

Gent. What's your will?

Hel. That it will please you

To giue this poore petition to the King,

And ayde me with that store of power you haue To come into his
presence

Gen. The Kings not heere

Hel. Not heere sir?

Gen. Not indeed,

He hence remou'd last night, and with more hast Then is his vse

Wid. Lord how we loose our paines

Hel. All's well that ends well yet,

Though time seeme so aduerse, and meanes vnfit: I do beseech you,
whither is he gone?

Gent. Marrie as I take it to Rossillion, Whither I am going

Hel. I do beseech you sir,

Since you are like to see the King before me, Commend the paper to his
gracious hand,

Which I presume shall render you no blame, But rather make you thanke
your paines for it, I will come after you with what good speede Our
meanes will make vs meanes

Gent. This Ile do for you

Hel. And you shall finde your selfe to be well thankt what e're
falles more. We must to horse againe, Go, go, prouide.

Enter Clowne and Parrolles.

Par. Good Mr Lauatch giue my Lord Lafew this letter, I haue ere now
sir beene better knowne to you, when I haue held familiaritie with
fresher cloathes: but I am now sir muddied in fortunes mood, and smell
somewhat strong of her strong displeasure

Clo. Truely, Fortunes displeasure is but sluttish if it smell so
strongly as thou speak'st of: I will hencefoorth eate no Fish of
Fortunes butt'ring. Prethee alow the winde

Par. Nay you neede not to stop your nose sir: I spake but by a
Metaphor

Clo. Indeed sir, if your Metaphor stinke, I will stop my nose, or
against any mans Metaphor. Prethe get thee further

Par. Pray you sir deliuer me this paper

Clo. Foh, prethee stand away: a paper from fortunes close-stoole, to
giue to a Nobleman. Looke heere he comes himselfe.

Enter Lafew.

Clo. Heere is a purre of Fortunes sir, or of Fortunes Cat, but not a
Muscat, that ha's falne into the vncleane fish-pond of her displeasure,
and as he sayes is muddied withall. Pray you sir, vse the Carpe as you
may, for he lookes like a poore decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally
knaue. I doe pittie his distresse in my smiles of comfort, and leaue
him to your Lordship

Par. My Lord I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratch'd

Laf. And what would you haue me to doe? 'Tis too late to paire her
nailes now. Wherein haue you played the knaue with fortune that she
should scratch you, who of her selfe is a good Lady, and would not haue
knaues thriue long vnder? There's a Cardecue for you: Let the Iustices
make you and fortune friends; I am for other businesse

Par. I beseech your honour to heare mee one single word,

Laf. you begge a single peny more: Come you shall ha't, saue your
word

Par. My name my good Lord is Parrolles

Laf. You begge more then word then. Cox my passion, giue me your
hand: How does your drumme?

Par. O my good Lord, you were the first that found mee

Laf. Was I insooth? And I was the first that lost thee

Par. It lies in you my Lord to bring me in some grace for you did
bring me out

Laf. Out vpon thee knaue, doest thou put vpon mee at once both the
office of God and the diuel: one brings thee in grace, and the other
brings thee out. The Kings comming I know by his Trumpets. Sirrah,
inquire further after me, I had talke of you last night, though you are
a foole and a knaue, you shall eate, go too, follow

Par. I praise God for you.

Flourish. Enter King, old Lady, Lafew, the two French Lords, with
attendants.

Kin. We lost a Iewell of her, and our esteeme Was made much poorer by
it: but your sonne, As mad in folly, lack'd the sence to know Her
estimation home

Old La. 'Tis past my Liege,

And I beseech your Maiestie to make it

Naturall rebellion, done i'th blade of youth, When oyle and fire, too
strong for reasons force, Ore-beares it, and burnes on

Kin. My honour'd Lady,

I haue forgiuen and forgotten all,

Though my reuenges were high bent vpon him, And watch'd the time to
shoote

Laf. This I must say,

But first I begge my pardon: the yong Lord Did to his Maiesty, his
Mother, and his Ladie, Offence of mighty note; but to himselfe

The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife, Whose beauty did astonish
the suruey

Of richest eies: whose words all eares tooke captiue, Whose deere
perfection, hearts that scorn'd to serue, Humbly call'd Mistris

Kin. Praising what is lost,

Makes the remembrance deere. Well, call him hither, We are reconcil'd,
and the first view shall kill All repetition: Let him not aske our
pardon, The nature of his great offence is dead,

And deeper then obliuion, we do burie

Th' incensing reliques of it. Let him approach A stranger, no offender;
and informe him

So 'tis our will he should

Gent. I shall my Liege

Kin. What sayes he to your daughter,

Haue you spoke?

Laf. All that he is, hath reference to your Highnes

Kin. Then shall we haue a match. I haue letters sent me, that sets
him high in fame.

Enter Count Bertram.

Laf. He lookes well on't

Kin. I am not a day of season,

For thou maist see a sun-shine, and a haile In me at once: But to the
brightest beames Distracted clouds giue way, so stand thou forth, The
time is faire againe

Ber. My high repented blames

Deere Soueraigne pardon to me

Kin. All is whole,

Not one word more of the consumed time,

Let's take the instant by the forward top: For we are old, and on our
quick'st decrees Th' inaudible, and noiselesse foot of time Steales,
ere we can effect them. You remember The daughter of this Lord?

Ber. Admiringly my Liege, at first

I stucke my choice vpon her, ere my heart Durst make too bold a herauld
of my tongue: Where the impression of mine eye enfixing, Contempt his
scornfull Perspectiue did lend me, Which warpt the line, of euerie
other fauour, Scorn'd a faire colour, or exprest it stolne, Extended or
contracted all proportions

To a most hideous obiect. Thence it came, That she whom all men
prais'd, and whom my selfe, Since I haue lost, haue lou'd; was in mine
eye The dust that did offend it

Kin. Well excus'd:

That thou didst loue her, strikes some scores away From the great
compt: but loue that comes too late, Like a remorsefull pardon slowly
carried

To the great sender, turnes a sowre offence, Crying, that's good that's
gone: Our rash faults, Make triuiall price of serious things we haue,
Not knowing them, vntill we know their graue. Oft our displeasures to
our selues vniust, Destroy our friends, and after weepe their dust: Our
owne loue waking, cries to see what's done, While shamefull hate
sleepes out the afternoone. Be this sweet Helens knell, and now forget
her. Send forth your amorous token for faire Maudlin, The maine
consents are had, and heere wee'l stay To see our widdowers second
marriage day: Which better then the first, O deere heauen blesse, Or,
ere they meete in me, O Nature cesse

Laf. Come on my sonne, in whom my houses name Must be digested: giue
a fauour from you

To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, That she may quickly come. By
my old beard, And eu'rie haire that's on't, Helen that's dead Was a
sweet creature: such a ring as this, The last that ere I tooke her
leaue at Court, I saw vpon her finger

Ber. Hers it was not

King. Now pray you let me see it. For mine eye, While I was
speaking, oft was fasten'd too't: This Ring was mine, and when I gaue
it Hellen, I bad her if her fortunes euer stoode

Necessitied to helpe, that by this token

I would releeue her. Had you that craft to reaue her Of what should
stead her most?

Ber. My gracious Soueraigne,

How ere it pleases you to take it so,

The ring was neuer hers

Old La. Sonne, on my life

I haue seene her weare it, and she reckon'd it At her liues rate

Laf. I am sure I saw her weare it

Ber. You are deceiu'd my Lord, she neuer saw it: In Florence was it
from a casement throwne mee, Wrap'd in a paper, which contain'd the
name Of her that threw it: Noble she was, and thought I stood ingag'd,
but when I had subscrib'd To mine owne fortune, and inform'd her fully,
I could not answer in that course of Honour As she had made the
ouerture, she ceast

In heauie satisfaction, and would neuer

Receiue the Ring againe

Kin. Platus himselfe,

That knowes the tinct and multiplying med'cine, Hath not in natures
mysterie more science, Then I haue in this Ring. 'Twas mine, 'twas
Helens, Who euer gaue it you: then if you know

That you are well acquainted with your selfe, Confesse 'twas hers, and
by what rough enforcement You got it from her. She call'd the Saints to
suretie, That she would neuer put it from her finger, Vnlesse she gaue
it to your selfe in bed, Where you haue neuer come: or sent it vs

Vpon her great disaster

Ber. She neuer saw it

Kin. Thou speak'st it falsely: as I loue mine Honor, And mak'st
connecturall feares to come into me, Which I would faine shut out, if
it should proue That thou art so inhumane, 'twill not proue so: And yet
I know not, thou didst hate her deadly, And she is dead, which nothing
but to close Her eyes my selfe, could win me to beleeue, More then to
see this Ring. Take him away, My fore-past proofes, how ere the matter
fall Shall taze my feares of little vanitie,

Hauing vainly fear'd too little. Away with him, Wee'l sift this matter
further

Ber. If you shall proue

This Ring was euer hers, you shall as easie Proue that I husbanded her
bed in Florence, Where yet she neuer was.

Enter a Gentleman.

King. I am wrap'd in dismall thinkings

Gen. Gracious Soueraigne.

Whether I haue beene too blame or no, I know not, Here's a petition
from a Florentine,

Who hath for foure or fiue remoues come short, To tender it her selfe.
I vndertooke it,

Vanquish'd thereto by the faire grace and speech Of the poore
suppliant, who by this I know Is heere attending: her businesse lookes
in her With an importing visage, and she told me In a sweet verball
breefe, it did concerne Your Highnesse with her selfe.

A Letter.

Vpon his many protestations to marrie mee when his wife was dead, I
blush to say it, he wonne me. Now is the Count Rossillion a Widdower,
his vowes are forfeited to mee, and my honors payed to him. Hee stole
from Florence, taking no leaue, and I follow him to his Countrey for
Iustice: Grant it me, O King, in you it best lies, otherwise a seducer
flourishes, and a poore Maid is vndone.

Diana Capilet

Laf. I will buy me a sonne in Law in a faire, and toule for this.
Ile none of him

Kin. The heauens haue thought well on thee Lafew, To bring forth
this discou'rie, seeke these sutors: Go speedily, and bring againe the
Count.

Enter Bertram.

I am a-feard the life of Hellen (Ladie)

Was fowly snatcht

Old La. Now iustice on the doers

King. I wonder sir, sir, wiues are monsters to you, And that you
flye them as you sweare them Lordship, Yet you desire to marry. What
woman's that? Enter Widdow, Diana, and Parrolles.

Dia. I am my Lord a wretched Florentine, Deriued from the ancient
Capilet,

My suite as I do vnderstand you know,

And therefore know how farre I may be pittied

Wid. I am her Mother sir, whose age and honour Both suffer vnder
this complaint we bring, And both shall cease, without your remedie

King. Come hether Count, do you know these Women?   Ber. My Lord, I
neither can nor will denie, But that I know them, do they charge me
further?   Dia. Why do you looke so strange vpon your wife?   Ber.
She's none of mine my Lord

Dia. If you shall marrie

You giue away this hand, and that is mine, You giue away heauens vowes,
and those are mine: You giue away my selfe, which is knowne mine: For I
by vow am so embodied yours,

That she which marries you, must marrie me, Either both or none

Laf. Your reputation comes too short for my daughter, you are no
husband for her

Ber. My Lord, this is a fond and desp'rate creature, Whom sometime I
haue laugh'd with: Let your highnes Lay a more noble thought vpon mine
honour, Then for to thinke that I would sinke it heere

Kin. Sir for my thoughts, you haue them il to friend, Till your
deeds gaine them fairer: proue your honor, Then in my thought it lies

Dian. Good my Lord,

Aske him vpon his oath, if hee do's thinke He had not my virginity

Kin. What saist thou to her?

Ber. She's impudent my Lord,

And was a common gamester to the Campe

Dia. He do's me wrong my Lord: If I were so, He might haue bought me
at a common price. Do not beleeue him. O behold this Ring,

Whose high respect and rich validitie

Did lacke a Paralell: yet for all that

He gaue it to a Commoner a'th Campe

If I be one

Coun. He blushes, and 'tis hit:

Of sixe preceding Ancestors that Iemme

Confer'd by testament to'th sequent issue Hath it beene owed and worne.
This is his wife, That Ring's a thousand proofes

King. Me thought you saide

You saw one heere in Court could witnesse it

Dia. I did my Lord, but loath am to produce So bad an instrument,
his names Parrolles

Laf. I saw the man to day, if man he bee

Kin. Finde him, and bring him hether

Ros. What of him:

He's quoted for a most perfidious slaue

With all the spots a'th world, taxt and debosh'd, Whose nature sickens:
but to speake a truth, Am I, or that or this for what he'l vtter, That
will speake any thing

Kin. She hath that Ring of yours

Ros. I thinke she has; certaine it is I lyk'd her, And boorded her
i'th wanton way of youth: She knew her distance, and did angle for mee,
Madding my eagernesse with her restraint, As all impediments in fancies
course

Are motiues of more fancie, and in fine,

Her insuite comming with her moderne grace, Subdu'd me to her rate, she
got the Ring, And I had that which any inferiour might

At Market price haue bought

Dia. I must be patient:

You that haue turn'd off a first so noble wife, May iustly dyet me. I
pray you yet,

(Since you lacke vertue, I will loose a husband) Send for your Ring, I
will returne it home, And giue me mine againe

Ros. I haue it not

Kin. What Ring was yours I pray you?

Dian. Sir much like the same vpon your finger

Kin. Know you this Ring, this Ring was his of late

Dia. And this was it I gaue him being a bed

Kin. The story then goes false, you threw it him Out of a Casement

Dia. I haue spoke the truth.

Enter Parolles.

Ros. My Lord, I do confesse the ring was hers

Kin. You boggle shrewdly, euery feather starts you: Is this the man
you speake of?

Dia. I, my Lord

Kin. Tell me sirrah, but tell me true I charge you, Not fearing the
displeasure of your master: Which on your iust proceeding, Ile keepe
off, By him and by this woman heere, what know you?   Par. So please
your Maiesty, my master hath bin an honourable Gentleman. Trickes hee
hath had in him, which Gentlemen haue

Kin. Come, come, to'th' purpose: Did hee loue this woman?

Par. Faith sir he did loue her, but how

Kin. How I pray you?

Par. He did loue her sir, as a Gent. loues a Woman

Kin. How is that?

Par. He lou'd her sir, and lou'd her not

Kin. As thou art a knaue and no knaue, what an equiuocall Companion
is this?

Par. I am a poore man, and at your Maiesties command

Laf. Hee's a good drumme my Lord, but a naughtie Orator

Dian. Do you know he promist me marriage?   Par. Faith I know more
then Ile speake

Kin. But wilt thou not speake all thou know'st?   Par. Yes so please
your Maiesty: I did goe betweene them as I said, but more then that he
loued her, for indeede he was madde for her, and talkt of Sathan, and
of Limbo, and of Furies, and I know not what: yet I was in that credit
with them at that time, that I knewe of their going to bed, and of
other motions, as promising her marriage, and things which would deriue
mee ill will to speake of, therefore I will not speake what I know

Kin. Thou hast spoken all alreadie, vnlesse thou canst say they are
maried, but thou art too fine in thy euidence, therefore stand aside.
This Ring you say was yours

Dia. I my good Lord

Kin. Where did you buy it? Or who gaue it you?   Dia. It was not
giuen me, nor I did not buy it

Kin. Who lent it you?

Dia. It was not lent me neither

Kin. Where did you finde it then?

Dia. I found it not

Kin. If it were yours by none of all these wayes, How could you giue
it him?

Dia. I neuer gaue it him

Laf. This womans an easie gloue my Lord, she goes off and on at
pleasure

Kin. This Ring was mine, I gaue it his first wife

Dia. It might be yours or hers for ought I know

Kin. Take her away, I do not like her now, To prison with her: and
away with him,

Vnlesse thou telst me where thou hadst this Ring, Thou diest within
this houre

Dia. Ile neuer tell you

Kin. Take her away

Dia. Ile put in baile my liedge

Kin. I thinke thee now some common Customer

Dia. By Ioue if euer I knew man 'twas you

King. Wherefore hast thou accusde him al this while

Dia. Because he's guiltie, and he is not guilty: He knowes I am no
Maid, and hee'l sweare too't: Ile sweare I am a Maid, and he knowes
not. Great King I am no strumpet, by my life,

I am either Maid, or else this old mans wife

Kin. She does abuse our eares, to prison with her

Dia. Good mother fetch my bayle. Stay Royall sir, The Ieweller that
owes the Ring is sent for, And he shall surety me. But for this Lord,
Who hath abus'd me as he knowes himselfe, Though yet he neuer harm'd
me, heere I quit him. He knowes himselfe my bed he hath defil'd, And at
that time he got his wife with childe: Dead though she be, she feeles
her yong one kicke: So there's my riddle, one that's dead is quicke,
And now behold the meaning.

Enter Hellen and Widdow.

Kin. Is there no exorcist

Beguiles the truer Office of mine eyes?

Is't reall that I see?

Hel. No my good Lord,

'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,

The name, and not the thing

Ros. Both, both, O pardon

Hel. Oh my good Lord, when I was like this Maid, I found you
wondrous kinde, there is your Ring, And looke you, heeres your letter:
this it sayes, When from my finger you can get this Ring, And is by me
with childe, &c. This is done, Will you be mine now you are doubly
wonne?   Ros. If she my Liege can make me know this clearly, Ile loue
her dearely, euer, euer dearly

Hel. If it appeare not plaine, and proue vntrue, Deadly diuorce step
betweene me and you.

O my deere mother do I see you liuing?

Laf. Mine eyes smell Onions, I shall weepe anon: Good Tom Drumme lend
me a handkercher.

So I thanke thee, waite on me home, Ile make sport with thee: Let thy
curtsies alone, they are scuruy ones

King. Let vs from point to point this storie know, To make the euen
truth in pleasure flow:

If thou beest yet a fresh vncropped flower, Choose thou thy husband,
and Ile pay thy dower. For I can guesse, that by thy honest ayde, Thou
keptst a wife her selfe, thy selfe a Maide. Of that and all the
progresse more and lesse, Resoluedly more leasure shall expresse:

All yet seemes well, and if it end so meete, The bitter past, more
welcome is the sweet.

Flourish.

The Kings a Begger, now the Play is done, All is well ended, if this
suite be wonne, That you expresse Content: which we will pay, With
strife to please you, day exceeding day: Ours be your patience then,
and yours our parts, Your gentle hands lend vs, and take our hearts.

Exeunt. omn.

FINIS. ALL'S Well, that Ends Well.



Twelfe Night, Or what you will

Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.

Enter Orsino Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other Lords.

Duke. If Musicke be the food of Loue, play on, Giue me excesse of it:
that surfetting,

The appetite may sicken, and so dye.

That straine agen, it had a dying fall:

O, it came ore my eare, like the sweet sound That breathes vpon a banke
of Violets;

Stealing, and giuing Odour. Enough, no more, 'Tis not so sweet now, as
it was before.

O spirit of Loue, how quicke and fresh art thou, That notwithstanding
thy capacitie,

Receiueth as the Sea. Nought enters there, Of what validity, and pitch
so ere,

But falles into abatement, and low price

Euen in a minute; so full of shapes is fancie, That it alone, is high
fantasticall

Cu. Will you go hunt my Lord?

Du. What Curio?

Cu. The Hart

Du. Why so I do, the Noblest that I haue: O when mine eyes did see
Oliuia first,

Me thought she purg'd the ayre of pestilence; That instant was I turn'd
into a Hart,

And my desires like fell and cruell hounds, Ere since pursue me. How
now what newes from her? Enter Valentine.

Val. So please my Lord, I might not be admitted, But from her
handmaid do returne this answer: The Element it selfe, till seuen
yeares heate, Shall not behold her face at ample view:

But like a Cloystresse she will vailed walke, And water once a day her
Chamber round

With eye-offending brine: all this to season A brothers dead loue,
which she would keepe fresh And lasting, in her sad remembrance

Du. O she that hath a heart of that fine frame To pay this debt of
loue but to a brother, How will she loue, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flocke of all affections else That liue in her. When
Liuer, Braine, and Heart, These soueraigne thrones, are all supply'd
and fill'd Her sweete perfections with one selfe king: Away before me,
to sweet beds of Flowres, Loue-thoughts lye rich, when canopy'd with
bowres.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Viola, a Captaine, and Saylors.

Vio. What Country (Friends) is this?

Cap. This is Illyria Ladie

Vio. And what should I do in Illyria?

My brother he is in Elizium,

Perchance he is not drown'd: What thinke you saylors?   Cap. It is
perchance that you your selfe were saued

Vio. O my poore brother, and so perchance may he be

Cap. True Madam, and to comfort you with chance, Assure your selfe,
after our ship did split, When you, and those poore number saued with
you, Hung on our driuing boate: I saw your brother Most prouident in
perill, binde himselfe, (Courage and hope both teaching him the
practise) To a strong Maste, that liu'd vpon the sea: Where like Orion
on the Dolphines backe,

I saw him hold acquaintance with the waues, So long as I could see

Vio. For saying so, there's Gold:

Mine owne escape vnfoldeth to my hope,

Whereto thy speech serues for authoritie

The like of him. Know'st thou this Countrey?   Cap. I Madam well, for I
was bred and borne Not three houres trauaile from this very place

Vio. Who gouernes heere?

Cap. A noble Duke in nature, as in name

Vio. What is his name?

Cap. Orsino

Vio. Orsino: I haue heard my father name him. He was a Batchellor
then

Cap. And so is now, or was so very late: For but a month ago I went
from hence,

And then 'twas fresh in murmure (as you know What great ones do, the
lesse will prattle of,) That he did seeke the loue of faire Oliuia

Vio. What's shee?

Cap. A vertuous maid, the daughter of a Count That dide some
tweluemonth since, then leauing her In the protection of his sonne, her
brother, Who shortly also dide: for whose deere loue (They say) she
hath abiur'd the sight

And company of men

Vio. O that I seru'd that Lady,

And might not be deliuered to the world

Till I had made mine owne occasion mellow What my estate is

Cap. That were hard to compasse,

Because she will admit no kinde of suite, No, not the Dukes

Vio. There is a faire behauiour in thee Captaine, And though that
nature, with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution: yet of thee

I will beleeue thou hast a minde that suites With this thy faire and
outward charracter. I prethee (and Ile pay thee bounteously)

Conceale me what I am, and be my ayde,

For such disguise as haply shall become

The forme of my intent. Ile serue this Duke, Thou shalt present me as
an Eunuch to him, It may be worth thy paines: for I can sing, And
speake to him in many sorts of Musicke, That will allow me very worth
his seruice. What else may hap, to time I will commit, Onely shape thou
thy silence to my wit

Cap. Be you his Eunuch, and your Mute Ile bee, When my tongue blabs,
then let mine eyes not see

Vio. I thanke thee: Lead me on.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.

Sir To. What a plague meanes my Neece to take the death of her
brother thus? I am sure care's an enemie to life

Mar. By my troth sir Toby, you must come in earlyer a nights: your
Cosin, my Lady, takes great exceptions to your ill houres

To. Why let her except, before excepted

Ma. I, but you must confine your selfe within the modest limits of
order

To. Confine? Ile confine my selfe no finer then I am: these cloathes
are good enough to drinke in, and so bee these boots too: and they be
not, let them hang themselues in their owne straps

Ma. That quaffing and drinking will vndoe you: I heard my Lady talke
of it yesterday: and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night
here, to be hir woer   To. Who, Sir Andrew Ague-cheeke?

Ma. I he

To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria

Ma. What's that to th' purpose?

To. Why he ha's three thousand ducates a yeare

Ma. I, but hee'l haue but a yeare in all these ducates: He's a very
foole, and a prodigall

To. Fie, that you'l say so: he playes o'th Viol-de-gamboys, and
speaks three or four languages word for word without booke, & hath all
the good gifts of nature

Ma. He hath indeed, almost naturall: for besides that he's a foole,
he's a great quarreller: and but that hee hath the gift of a Coward, to
allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent,
he would quickely haue the gift of a graue

Tob. By this hand they are scoundrels and substractors that say so
of him. Who are they?

Ma. They that adde moreour, hee's drunke nightly in your company

To. With drinking healths to my Neece: Ile drinke to her as long as
there is a passage in my throat, & drinke in Illyria: he's a Coward and
a Coystrill that will not drinke to my Neece, till his braines turne
o'th toe, like a parish top. What wench? Castiliano vulgo: for here
coms Sir Andrew Agueface.

Enter Sir Andrew.

And. Sir Toby Belch. How now sir Toby Belch?   To. Sweet sir Andrew

And. Blesse you faire Shrew

Mar. And you too sir

Tob. Accost Sir Andrew, accost

And. What's that?

To. My Neeces Chamber-maid

Ma. Good Mistris accost, I desire better acquaintance   Ma. My name
is Mary sir

And. Good mistris Mary, accost

To, You mistake knight: Accost, is front her, boord her, woe her,
assayle her

And. By my troth I would not vndertake her in this company. Is that
the meaning of Accost?

Ma. Far you well Gentlemen

To. And thou let part so Sir Andrew, would thou mightst neuer draw
sword agen

And. And you part so mistris, I would I might neuer draw sword agen:
Faire Lady, doe you thinke you haue fooles in hand?

Ma. Sir, I haue not you by'th hand

An. Marry but you shall haue, and heeres my hand

Ma. Now sir, thought is free: I pray you bring your hand to'th
Buttry barre, and let it drinke

An. Wherefore (sweet-heart?) What's your Metaphor?   Ma. It's dry
sir

And. Why I thinke so: I am not such an asse, but I can keepe my hand
dry. But what's your iest?   Ma. A dry iest Sir

And. Are you full of them?

Ma. I Sir, I haue them at my fingers ends: marry now I let go your
hand, I am barren.

Exit Maria

To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of Canarie: when did I see thee so
put downe?

An. Neuer in your life I thinke, vnlesse you see Canarie put me
downe: mee thinkes sometimes I haue no more wit then a Christian, or an
ordinary man ha's: but I am a great eater of beefe, and I beleeue that
does harme to my wit

To. No question

An. And I thought that, I'de forsweare it. Ile ride home to morrow
sir Toby

To. Pur-quoy my deere knight?

An. What is purquoy? Do, or not do? I would I had bestowed that time
in the tongues, that I haue in fencing dancing, and beare-bayting: O
had I but followed the Arts

To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of haire

An. Why, would that haue mended my haire?   To. Past question, for
thou seest it will not coole my nature   An. But it becoms me wel
enough, dost not?   To. Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaffe: &
I hope to see a huswife take thee between her legs, & spin it off

An. Faith Ile home to morrow sir Toby, your niece wil not be seene,
or if she be it's four to one, she'l none of me: the Count himselfe
here hard by, wooes her

To. Shee'l none o'th Count, she'l not match aboue hir degree,
neither in estate, yeares, nor wit: I haue heard her swear't. Tut
there's life in't man

And. Ile stay a moneth longer. I am a fellow o'th strangest minde
i'th world: I delight in Maskes and Reuels sometimes altogether

To. Art thou good at these kicke-chawses Knight?   And. As any man
in Illyria, whatsoeuer he be, vnder the degree of my betters, & yet I
will not compare with an old man

To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?   And. Faith, I
can cut a caper

To. And I can cut the Mutton too't

And. And I thinke I haue the backe-tricke, simply as strong as any
man in Illyria

To. Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore haue these gifts a
Curtaine before 'em? Are they like to take dust, like mistris Mals
picture? Why dost thou not goe to Church in a Galliard, and come home
in a Carranto? My verie walke should be a Iigge: I would not so much as
make water but in a Sinke-a-pace: What dooest thou meane? Is it a world
to hide vertues in? I did thinke by the excellent constitution of thy
legge, it was form'd vnder the starre of a Galliard

And. I, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a dam'd
colour'd stocke. Shall we sit about some Reuels?   To. What shall we do
else: were we not borne vnder Taurus?

And. Taurus? That sides and heart

To. No sir, it is leggs and thighes: let me see thee caper. Ha,
higher: ha, ha, excellent.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Valentine, and Viola in mans attire.

Val. If the Duke continue these fauours towards you Cesario, you are
like to be much aduanc'd, he hath known you but three dayes, and
already you are no stranger

Vio. You either feare his humour, or my negligence, that you call in
question the continuance of his loue. Is he inconstant sir, in his
fauours

Val. No beleeue me.

Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.

Vio. I thanke you: heere comes the Count

Duke. Who saw Cesario hoa?

Vio. On your attendance my Lord heere

Du. Stand you a-while aloofe. Cesario, Thou knowst no lesse, but
all: I haue vnclasp'd To thee the booke euen of my secret soule.
Therefore good youth, addresse thy gate vnto her, Be not deni'de
accesse, stand at her doores, And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall
grow Till thou haue audience

Vio. Sure my Noble Lord,

If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow

As it is spoke, she neuer will admit me

Du. Be clamorous, and leape all ciuill bounds, Rather then make
vnprofited returne,

Vio. Say I do speake with her (my Lord) what then?   Du. O then,
vnfold the passion of my loue, Surprize her with discourse of my deere
faith; It shall become thee well to act my woes: She will attend it
better in thy youth,

Then in a Nuntio's of more graue aspect

Vio. I thinke not so, my Lord

Du. Deere Lad, beleeue it;

For they shall yet belye thy happy yeeres, That say thou art a man:
Dianas lip

Is not more smooth, and rubious: thy small pipe Is as the maidens
organ, shrill, and sound, And all is semblatiue a womans part.

I know thy constellation is right apt

For this affayre: some foure or fiue attend him, All if you will: for I
my selfe am best

When least in companie: prosper well in this, And thou shalt liue as
freely as thy Lord, To call his fortunes thine

Vio. Ile do my best

To woe your Lady: yet a barrefull strife, Who ere I woe, my selfe would
be his wife.

Exeunt.



Scena Quinta.



Enter Maria, and Clowne.

Ma. Nay, either tell me where thou hast bin, or I will not open my
lippes so wide as a brissle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my Lady
will hang thee for thy absence

Clo. Let her hang me: hee that is well hang'de in this world, needs
to feare no colours

Ma. Make that good

Clo. He shall see none to feare

Ma. A good lenton answer: I can tell thee where y saying was borne,
of I feare no colours

Clo. Where good mistris Mary?

Ma. In the warrs, & that may you be bolde to say in your foolerie

Clo. Well, God giue them wisedome that haue it: & those that are
fooles, let them vse their talents

Ma. Yet you will be hang'd for being so long absent, or to be turn'd
away: is not that as good as a hanging to you?

Clo. Many a good hanging, preuents a bad marriage: and for turning
away, let summer beare it out

Ma. You are resolute then?

Clo. Not so neyther, but I am resolu'd on two points   Ma. That if
one breake, the other will hold: or if both breake, your gaskins fall

Clo. Apt in good faith, very apt: well go thy way, if sir Toby would
leaue drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eues flesh, as any in
Illyria

Ma. Peace you rogue, no more o'that: here comes my Lady: make your
excuse wisely, you were best. Enter Lady Oliuia, with Maluolio.

Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling: those wits
that thinke they haue thee, doe very oft proue fooles: and I that am
sure I lacke thee, may passe for a wise man. For what saies Quinapalus,
Better a witty foole, then a foolish wit. God blesse thee Lady

Ol. Take the foole away

Clo. Do you not heare fellowes, take away the Ladie

Ol. Go too, y'are a dry foole: Ile no more of you: besides you grow
dis-honest

Clo. Two faults Madona, that drinke & good counsell wil amend: for
giue the dry foole drink, then is the foole not dry: bid the dishonest
man mend himself, if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if hee cannot,
let the Botcher mend him: any thing that's mended, is but patch'd:
vertu that transgresses, is but patcht with sinne, and sin that amends,
is but patcht with vertue. If that this simple Sillogisme will serue,
so: if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true Cuckold but
calamity, so beauties a flower; The Lady bad take away the foole,
therefore I say againe, take her away

Ol. Sir, I bad them take away you

Clo. Misprision in the highest degree. Lady, Cucullus non facit
monachum: that's as much to say, as I weare not motley in my braine:
good Madona, giue mee leaue to proue you a foole

Ol. Can you do it?

Clo. Dexteriously, good Madona

Ol. Make your proofe

Clo. I must catechize you for it Madona, Good my Mouse of vertue
answer mee

Ol. Well sir, for want of other idlenesse, Ile bide your proofe

Clo. Good Madona, why mournst thou?

Ol. Good foole, for my brothers death

Clo. I thinke his soule is in hell, Madona

Ol. I know his soule is in heauen, foole

Clo. The more foole (Madona) to mourne for your Brothers soule,
being in heauen. Take away the Foole, Gentlemen

Ol. What thinke you of this foole Maluolio, doth he not mend?

Mal. Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him: Infirmity
that decaies the wise, doth euer make the better foole

Clow. God send you sir, a speedie Infirmity, for the better
increasing your folly: Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no Fox, but he
wil not passe his word for two pence that you are no Foole

Ol. How say you to that Maluolio?

Mal. I maruell your Ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascall:
I saw him put down the other day, with an ordinary foole, that has no
more braine then a stone. Looke you now, he's out of his gard already:
vnles you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gag'd. I protest I
take these Wisemen, that crow so at these set kinde of fooles, no
better then the fooles Zanies

Ol. O you are sicke of selfe-loue Maluolio, and taste with a
distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltlesse, and of free
disposition, is to take those things for Bird-bolts, that you deeme
Cannon bullets: There is no slander in an allow'd foole, though he do
nothing but rayle; nor no rayling, in a knowne discreet man, though hee
do nothing but reproue

Clo. Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thou speak'st well of
fooles.

Enter Maria.

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate, a young Gentleman, much desires to
speake with you

Ol. From the Count Orsino, is it?

Ma I know not (Madam) 'tis a faire young man, and well attended

Ol. Who of my people hold him in delay?   Ma. Sir Toby Madam, your
kinsman

Ol. Fetch him off I pray you, he speakes nothing but madman: Fie on
him. Go you Maluolio; If it be a suit from the Count, I am sicke, or
not at home. What you will, to dismisse it.

Exit Maluo.

Now you see sir, how your fooling growes old, & people dislike it

Clo. Thou hast spoke for vs (Madona) as if thy eldest sonne should
be a foole: whose scull, Ioue cramme with braines, for heere he comes.

Enter Sir Toby.

One of thy kin has a most weake Pia-mater

Ol. By mine honor halfe drunke. What is he at the gate Cosin?

To. A Gentleman

Ol. A Gentleman? What Gentleman?

To. 'Tis a Gentleman heere. A plague o'these pickle herring: How now
Sot

Clo. Good Sir Toby

Ol. Cosin, Cosin, how haue you come so earely by this Lethargie?

To. Letcherie, I defie Letchery: there's one at the gate

Ol. I marry, what is he?

To. Let him be the diuell and he will, I care not: giue me faith say
I. Well, it's all one.

Exit

Ol. What's a drunken man like, foole?

Clo. Like a drown'd man, a foole, and a madde man: One draught aboue
heate, makes him a foole, the second maddes him, and a third drownes
him

Ol. Go thou and seeke the Crowner, and let him sitte o'my Coz: for
he's in the third degree of drinke: hee's drown'd: go looke after him

Clo. He is but mad yet Madona, and the foole shall looke to the
madman.

Enter Maluolio.

Mal. Madam, yond young fellow sweares hee will speake with you. I
told him you were sicke, he takes on him to vnderstand so much, and
therefore comes to speak with you. I told him you were asleepe, he
seems to haue a fore knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to
speake with you. What is to be said to him Ladie, hee's fortified
against any deniall

Ol. Tell him, he shall not speake with me

Mal. Ha's beene told so: and hee sayes hee'l stand at your doore
like a Sheriffes post, and be the supporter to a bench, but hee'l
speake with you

Ol. What kinde o'man is he?

Mal. Why of mankinde

Ol. What manner of man?

Mal. Of verie ill manner: hee'l speake with you, will you, or no

Ol. Of what personage, and yeeres is he?   Mal. Not yet old enough
for a man, nor yong enough for a boy: as a squash is before tis a
pescod, or a Codling when tis almost an Apple: Tis with him in standing
water, betweene boy and man. He is verie well-fauour'd, and he speakes
verie shrewishly: One would thinke his mothers milke were scarse out of
him

Ol. Let him approach: Call in my Gentlewoman

Mal. Gentlewoman, my Lady calles.

Enter.

Enter Maria.

Ol. Giue me my vaile: come throw it ore my face, Wee'l once more
heare Orsinos Embassie.

Enter Violenta.

Vio. The honorable Ladie of the house, which is she?   Ol. Speake to
me, I shall answer for her: your will

Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and vnmatchable beautie. I pray you
tell me if this bee the Lady of the house, for I neuer saw her. I would
bee loath to cast away my speech: for besides that it is excellently
well pend, I haue taken great paines to con it. Good Beauties, let mee
sustaine no scorne; I am very comptible, euen to the least sinister
vsage

Ol. Whence came you sir?

Vio. I can say little more then I haue studied, & that question's out
of my part. Good gentle one, giue mee modest assurance, if you be the
Ladie of the house, that | I may proceede in my speech

Ol. Are you a Comedian?

Vio. No my profound heart: and yet (by the verie phangs of malice, I
sweare) I am not that I play. Are you the Ladie of the house?

Ol. If I do not vsurpe my selfe, I am

Vio. Most certaine, if you are she, you do vsurp your selfe: for
what is yours to bestowe, is, not yours to reserue. But this is from my
Commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then shew you
the heart of my message

Ol. Come to what is important in't: I forgiue you the praise

Vio. Alas, I tooke great paines to studie it, and 'tis Poeticall

Ol. It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep it in. I
heard you were sawcy at my gates, & allowd your approach rather to
wonder at you, then to heare you. If you be not mad, be gone: if you
haue reason, be breefe: 'tis not that time of Moone with me, to make
one in so skipping a dialogue

Ma. Will you hoyst sayle sir, here lies your way

Vio. No good swabber, I am to hull here a little longer. Some
mollification for your Giant, sweete Ladie; tell me your minde, I am a
messenger

Ol. Sure you haue some hiddeous matter to deliuer, when the curtesie
of it is so fearefull. Speake your office

Vio. It alone concernes your eare: I bring no ouerture of warre, no
taxation of homage; I hold the Olyffe in my hand: my words are as full
of peace, as matter

Ol. Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would you?

Vio. The rudenesse that hath appear'd in mee, haue I learn'd from my
entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are as secret as
maiden-head: to your eares, Diuinity; to any others, prophanation

Ol. Giue vs the place alone,

We will heare this diuinitie. Now sir, what is your text?   Vio. Most
sweet Ladie

Ol. A comfortable doctrine, and much may bee saide of it. Where lies
your Text?

Vio. In Orsinoes bosome

Ol. In his bosome? In what chapter of his bosome?   Vio. To answer
by the method, in the first of his hart

Ol. O, I haue read it: it is heresie. Haue you no more to say?

Vio. Good Madam, let me see your face

Ol. Haue you any Commission from your Lord, to negotiate with my
face: you are now out of your Text: but we will draw the Curtain, and
shew you the picture. Looke you sir, such a one I was this present: Ist
not well done?

Vio. Excellently done, if God did all

Ol. 'Tis in graine sir, 'twill endure winde and weather

Vio. Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white, Natures owne
sweet, and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruell'st shee
aliue,

If you will leade these graces to the graue, And leaue the world no
copie

Ol. O sir, I will not be so hard-hearted: I will giue out diuers
scedules of my beautie. It shalbe Inuentoried and euery particle and
vtensile labell'd to my will: As, Item two lippes indifferent redde,
Item two grey eyes, with lids to them: Item, one necke, one chin, & so
forth. Were you sent hither to praise me?

Vio. I see you what you are, you are too proud: But if you were the
diuell, you are faire: My Lord, and master loues you: O such loue Could
be but recompenc'd, though you were crown'd The non-pareil of beautie

Ol. How does he loue me?

Vio. With adorations, fertill teares,

With groanes that thunder loue, with sighes of fire

Ol. Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot loue him Yet I suppose him
vertuous, know him noble, Of great estate, of fresh and stainlesse
youth; In voyces well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, And in
dimension, and the shape of nature, A gracious person; But yet I cannot
loue him: He might haue tooke his answer long ago

Vio. If I did loue you in my masters flame, With such a suffring,
such a deadly life: In your deniall, I would finde no sence,

I would not vnderstand it

Ol. Why, what would you?

Vio. Make me a willow Cabine at your gate, And call vpon my soule
within the house,

Write loyall Cantons of contemned loue,

And sing them lowd euen in the dead of night: Hallow your name to the
reuerberate hilles, And make the babling Gossip of the aire,

Cry out Oliuia: O you should not rest

Betweene the elements of ayre, and earth, But you should pittie me

Ol. You might do much:

What is your Parentage?

Vio. Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a Gentleman

Ol. Get you to your Lord:

I cannot loue him: let him send no more,

Vnlesse (perchance) you come to me againe, To tell me how he takes it:
Fare you well: I thanke you for your paines: spend this for mee

Vio. I am no feede poast, Lady; keepe your purse, My Master, not my
selfe, lackes recompence. Loue make his heart of flint, that you shal
loue, And let your feruour like my masters be,

Plac'd in contempt: Farwell fayre crueltie.

Exit

Ol. What is your Parentage?

Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well;

I am a Gentleman. Ile be sworne thou art, Thy tongue, thy face, thy
limbes, actions, and spirit, Do giue thee fiue-fold blazon: not too
fast: soft, soft, Vnlesse the Master were the man. How now? Euen so
quickly may one catch the plague? Me thinkes I feele this youths
perfections With an inuisible, and subtle stealth

To creepe in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. What hoa, Maluolio.

Enter Maluolio.

Mal. Heere Madam, at your seruice

Ol. Run after that same peeuish Messenger The Countes man: he left
this Ring behinde him Would I, or not: tell him, Ile none of it. Desire
him not to flatter with his Lord,

Nor hold him vp with hopes, I am not for him: If that the youth will
come this way to morrow, Ile giue him reasons for't: hie thee Maluolio

Mal. Madam, I will.

Enter.

Ol. I do I know not what, and feare to finde Mine eye too great a
flatterer for my minde: Fate, shew thy force, our selues we do not owe,
What is decreed, must be: and be this so.

Finis, Actus primus.



Actus Secundus, Scaena prima.

Enter Antonio & Sebastian.

Ant. Will you stay no longer: nor will you not that I go with you

Seb. By your patience, no: my starres shine darkely ouer me; the
malignancie of my fate, might perhaps distemper yours; therefore I
shall craue of you your leaue, that I may beare my euils alone. It were
a bad recompence for your loue, to lay any of them on you

An. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound

Seb. No sooth sir: my determinate voyage is meere extrauagancie. But
I perceiue in you so excellent a touch of modestie, that you will not
extort from me, what I am willing to keepe in: therefore it charges me
in manners, the rather to expresse my selfe: you must know of mee then
Antonio, my name is Sebastian (which I call'd Rodorigo) my father was
that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you haue heard of. He left
behinde him, my selfe, and a sister, both borne in an houre: if the
Heauens had beene pleas'd, would we had so ended. But you sir, alter'd
that, for some houre before you tooke me from the breach of the sea,
was my sister drown'd

Ant. Alas the day

Seb. A Lady sir, though it was said shee much resembled me, was yet
of many accounted beautiful: but thogh I could not with such estimable
wonder ouer-farre beleeue that, yet thus farre I will boldly publish
her, shee bore a minde that enuy could not but call faire: Shee is
drown'd already sir with salt water, though I seeme to drowne her
remembrance againe with more

Ant. Pardon me sir, your bad entertainment

Seb. O good Antonio, forgiue me your trouble

Ant. If you will not murther me for my loue, let mee be your
seruant

Seb. If you will not vndo what you haue done, that is kill him, whom
you haue recouer'd, desire it not. Fare ye well at once, my bosome is
full of kindnesse, and I am yet so neere the manners of my mother, that
vpon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: I am
bound to the Count Orsino's Court, farewell.

Exit

Ant. The gentlenesse of all the gods go with thee: I haue many
enemies in Orsino's Court,

Else would I very shortly see thee there: But come what may, I do adore
thee so,

That danger shall seeme sport, and I will go. Enter.



Scaena Secunda.

Enter Viola and Maluolio, at seuerall doores.

Mal. Were not you eu'n now, with the Countesse Oliuia?   Vio. Euen
now sir, on a moderate pace, I haue since ariu'd but hither

Mal. She returnes this Ring to you (sir) you might haue saued mee my
paines, to haue taken it away your selfe. She adds moreouer, that you
should put your Lord into a desperate assurance, she will none of him.
And one thing more, that you be neuer so hardie to come againe in his
affaires, vnlesse it bee to report your Lords taking of this: receiue
it so

Vio. She tooke the Ring of me, Ile none of it

Mal. Come sir, you peeuishly threw it to her: and her will is, it
should be so return'd: If it bee worth stooping for, there it lies, in
your eye: if not, bee it his that findes it.

Enter.

Vio. I left no Ring with her: what meanes this Lady? Fortune forbid
my out-side haue not charm'd her: She made good view of me, indeed so
much, That me thought her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speake
in starts distractedly. She loues me sure, the cunning of her passion
Inuites me in this churlish messenger:

None of my Lords Ring? Why he sent her none; I am the man, if it be so,
as tis,

Poore Lady, she were better loue a dreame: Disguise, I see thou art a
wickednesse,

Wherein the pregnant enemie does much.

How easie is it, for the proper false

In womens waxen hearts to set their formes: Alas, O frailtie is the
cause, not wee,

For such as we are made, if such we bee:

How will this fadge? My master loues her deerely, And I (poore monster)
fond asmuch on him: And she (mistaken) seemes to dote on me:

What will become of this? As I am man,

My state is desperate for my maisters loue: As I am woman (now alas the
day)

What thriftlesse sighes shall poore Oliuia breath? O time, thou must
vntangle this, not I,

It is too hard a knot for me t' vnty.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.

To. Approach Sir Andrew: not to bee a bedde after midnight, is to be
vp betimes, and Deliculo surgere, thou know'st

And. Nay by my troth I know not: but I know, to be vp late, is to be
vp late

To. A false conclusion: I hate it as an vnfill'd Canne. To be vp
after midnight, and to go to bed then is early: so that to go to bed
after midnight, is to goe to bed betimes. Does not our liues consist of
the foure Elements?   And. Faith so they say, but I thinke it rather
consists of eating and drinking

To. Th'art a scholler; let vs therefore eate and drinke Marian I
say, a stoope of wine.

Enter Clowne.

And. Heere comes the foole yfaith

Clo. How now my harts: Did you neuer see the Picture of we three?

To. Welcome asse, now let's haue a catch

And. By my troth the foole has an excellent breast. I had rather
then forty shillings I had such a legge, and so sweet a breath to sing,
as the foole has. Insooth thou wast in very gracious fooling last
night, when thou spok'st of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the
Equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas very good yfaith: I sent thee sixe pence
for thy Lemon, hadst it?

Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity: for Maluolios nose is no
Whip-stocke. My Lady has a white hand, and the Mermidons are no
bottle-ale houses

An. Excellent: Why this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now a
song

To. Come on, there is sixe pence for you. Let's haue a song

An. There's a testrill of me too: if one knight giue a   Clo. Would
you haue a loue-song, or a song of good life?

To. A loue song, a loue song

An. I, I. I care not for good life

Clowne sings .

O Mistris mine where are you roming?

O stay and heare, your true loues coming, That can sing both high and
low.

Trip no further prettie sweeting.

Iourneys end in louers meeting,

Euery wise mans sonne doth know

An. Excellent good, ifaith

To. Good, good

Clo. What is loue, tis not heereafter, Present mirth, hath present
laughter:

What's to come, is still vnsure.

In delay there lies no plentie,

Then come kisse me sweet and twentie:

Youths a stuffe will not endure

An. A mellifluous voyce, as I am true knight

To. A contagious breath

An. Very sweet, and contagious ifaith

To. To heare by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we
make the Welkin dance indeed? Shall wee rowze the night-Owle in a
Catch, that will drawe three soules out of one Weauer? Shall we do
that?   And. And you loue me, let's doo't: I am dogge at a Catch

Clo. Byrlady sir, and some dogs will catch well

An. Most certaine: Let our Catch be, Thou Knaue

Clo. Hold thy peace, thou Knaue knight. I shall be constrain'd in't,
to call thee knaue, Knight

An. 'Tis not the first time I haue constrained one to call me knaue.
Begin foole: it begins, Hold thy peace

Clo. I shall neuer begin if I hold my peace

An. Good ifaith: Come begin.

Catch sung

Enter Maria.

Mar. What a catterwalling doe you keepe heere? If my Ladie haue not
call'd vp her Steward Maluolio, and bid him turne you out of doores,
neuer trust me

To. My Lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Maluolios a
Peg-a-ramsie, and Three merry men be wee. Am not I consanguinious? Am I
not of her blood: tilly vally. Ladie, There dwelt a man in Babylon,
Lady, Lady

Clo. Beshrew me, the knights in admirable fooling

An. I, he do's well enough if he be dispos'd, and so do I too: he
does it with a better grace, but I do it more naturall

To. O the twelfe day of December

Mar. For the loue o' God peace.

Enter Maluolio.

Mal. My masters are you mad? Or what are you? Haue you no wit,
manners, nor honestie, but to gabble like Tinkers at this time of
night? Do yee make an Alehouse of my Ladies house, that ye squeak out
your Coziers Catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is
there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?   To. We did keepe
time sir in our Catches. Snecke vp

Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Lady bad me tell you,
that though she harbors you as her kinsman, she's nothing ally'd to
your disorders. If you can separate your selfe and your misdemeanors,
you are welcome to the house: if not, and it would please you to take
leaue of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell

To. Farewell deere heart, since I must needs be gone

Mar. Nay good Sir Toby

Clo. His eyes do shew his dayes are almost done

Mal. Is't euen so?

To. But I will neuer dye

Clo. Sir Toby there you lye

Mal. This is much credit to you

To. Shall I bid him go

Clo. What and if you do?

To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not?

Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not

To. Out o' tune sir, ye lye: Art any more then a Steward? Dost thou
thinke because thou art vertuous, there shall be no more Cakes and
Ale?

Clo. Yes by S[aint]. Anne, and Ginger shall bee hotte y'th mouth too

To. Th'art i'th right. Goe sir, rub your Chaine with crums. A stope
of Wine Maria

Mal. Mistris Mary, if you priz'd my Ladies fauour at any thing more
then contempt, you would not giue meanes for this vnciuill rule; she
shall know of it by this hand.

Exit

Mar. Go shake your eares

An. 'Twere as good a deede as to drink when a mans a hungrie, to
challenge him the field, and then to breake promise with him, and make
a foole of him

To. Doo't knight, Ile write thee a Challenge: or Ile deliuer thy
indignation to him by word of mouth

Mar. Sweet Sir Toby be patient for to night: Since the youth of the
Counts was to day with my Lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur
Maluolio, let me alone with him: If I do not gull him into a nayword,
and make him a common recreation, do not thinke I haue witte enough to
lye straight in my bed: I know I can do it

To. Possesse vs, possesse vs, tell vs something of him

Mar. Marrie sir, sometimes he is a kinde of Puritane

An. O, if I thought that, Ide beate him like a dogge

To. What for being a Puritan, thy exquisite reason, deere knight

An. I haue no exquisite reason for't, but I haue reason good enough

Mar. The diu'll a Puritane that hee is, or any thing constantly but
a time-pleaser, an affection'd Asse, that cons State without booke, and
vtters it by great swarths. The best perswaded of himselfe: so cram'd
(as he thinkes) with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith,
that all that looke on him, loue him: and on that vice in him, will my
reuenge finde notable cause to worke

To. What wilt thou do?

Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure Epistles of loue, wherein by
the colour of his beard, the shape of his legge, the manner of his
gate, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complection, he shall
finde himselfe most feelingly personated. I can write very like my
Ladie your Neece, on a forgotten matter wee can hardly make distinction
of our hands

To. Excellent, I smell a deuice

An. I hau't in my nose too

To. He shall thinke by the Letters that thou wilt drop that they
come from my Neece, and that shee's in loue with him

Mar. My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour

An. And your horse now would make him an Asse

Mar. Asse, I doubt not

An. O twill be admirable

Mar. Sport royall I warrant you: I know my Physicke will worke with
him, I will plant you two, and let the Foole make a third, where he
shall finde the Letter: obserue his construction of it: For this night
to bed, and dreame on the euent: Farewell.

Exit

To. Good night Penthisilea

An. Before me she's a good wench

To. She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me: what o'that?

An. I was ador'd once too

To. Let's to bed knight: Thou hadst neede send for more money

An. If I cannot recouer your Neece, I am a foule way out

To. Send for money knight, if thou hast her not i'th end, call me
Cut

An. If I do not, neuer trust me, take it how you will

To. Come, come, Ile go burne some Sacke, tis too late to go to bed
now: Come knight, come knight.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others

Du. Giue me some Musick; Now good morow frends. Now good Cesario,
but that peece of song, That old and Anticke song we heard last night;
Me thought it did releeue my passion much, More then light ayres, and
recollected termes Of these most briske and giddy-paced times. Come,
but one verse

Cur. He is not heere (so please your Lordshippe) that should sing
it?

Du. Who was it?

Cur. Feste the Iester my Lord, a foole that the Ladie Oliuiaes Father
tooke much delight in. He is about the house

Du. Seeke him out, and play the tune the while.

Musicke playes.

Come hither Boy, if euer thou shalt loue

In the sweet pangs of it, remember me:

For such as I am, all true Louers are,

Vnstaid and skittish in all motions else, Saue in the constant image of
the creature That is belou'd. How dost thou like this tune?   Vio. It
giues a verie eccho to the seate Where loue is thron'd

Du. Thou dost speake masterly,

My life vpon't, yong though thou art, thine eye Hath staid vpon some
fauour that it loues: Hath it not boy?

Vio. A little, by your fauour

Du. What kinde of woman ist?

Vio. Of your complection

Du. She is not worth thee then. What yeares ifaith?   Vio. About
your yeeres my Lord

Du. Too old by heauen: Let still the woman take An elder then her
selfe, so weares she to him; So swayes she leuell in her husbands
heart: For boy, howeuer we do praise our selues, Our fancies are more
giddie and vnfirme,

More longing, wauering, sooner lost and worne, Then womens are

Vio. I thinke it well my Lord

Du. Then let thy Loue be yonger then thy selfe, Or thy affection
cannot hold the bent:

For women are as Roses, whose faire flowre Being once displaid, doth
fall that verie howre

Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so: To die, euen when they
to perfection grow. Enter Curio & Clowne.

Du. O fellow come, the song we had last night: Marke it Cesario, it
is old and plaine;

The Spinsters and the Knitters in the Sun, And the free maides that
weaue their thred with bones, Do vse to chaunt it: it is silly sooth,

And dallies with the innocence of loue,

Like the old age

Clo. Are you ready Sir?

Duke. I prethee sing.

Musicke.

The Song.

Come away, come away death,

And in sad cypresse let me be laide.

Fye away, fie away breath,

I am slaine by a faire cruell maide:

My shrowd of white, stuck all with Ew, O prepare it. My part of death
no one so true did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweete

On my blacke coffin, let there be strewne: Not a friend, not a friend
greet

My poore corpes, where my bones shall be throwne: A thousand thousand
sighes to saue, lay me o where Sad true louer neuer find my graue, to
weepe there

Du. There's for thy paines

Clo. No paines sir, I take pleasure in singing sir

Du. Ile pay thy pleasure then

Clo. Truely sir, and pleasure will be paide one time, or another

Du. Giue me now leaue, to leaue thee

Clo. Now the melancholly God protect thee, and the Tailor make thy
doublet of changeable Taffata, for thy minde is a very Opall. I would
haue men of such constancie put to Sea, that their businesse might be
euery thing, and their intent euerie where, for that's it, that alwayes
makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.

Exit

Du. Let all the rest giue place: Once more Cesario, Get thee to yond
same soueraigne crueltie: Tell her my loue, more noble then the world
Prizes not quantitie of dirtie lands,

The parts that fortune hath bestow'd vpon her: Tell her I hold as
giddily as Fortune:

But 'tis that miracle, and Queene of Iems That nature prankes her in,
attracts my soule

Vio. But if she cannot loue you sir

Du. It cannot be so answer'd

Vio. Sooth but you must.

Say that some Lady, as perhappes there is, Hath for your loue as great
a pang of heart As you haue for Oliuia: you cannot loue her: You tel
her so: Must she not then be answer'd?   Du. There is no womans sides

Can bide the beating of so strong a passion, As loue doth giue my
heart: no womans heart So bigge, to hold so much, they lacke retention.
Alas, their loue may be call'd appetite,

No motion of the Liuer, but the Pallat,

That suffer surfet, cloyment, and reuolt, But mine is all as hungry as
the Sea,

And can digest as much, make no compare

Betweene that loue a woman can beare me,

And that I owe Oliuia

Vio. I but I know

Du. What dost thou knowe?

Vio. Too well what loue women to men may owe: In faith they are as
true of heart, as we. My Father had a daughter lou'd a man

As it might be perhaps, were I a woman

I should your Lordship

Du. And what's her history?

Vio. A blanke my Lord: she neuer told her loue, But let concealment
like a worme i'th budde Feede on her damaske cheeke: she pin'd in
thought, And with a greene and yellow melancholly, She sate like
Patience on a Monument,

Smiling at greefe. Was not this loue indeede? We men may say more,
sweare more, but indeed Our shewes are more then will: for still we
proue Much in our vowes, but little in our loue

Du. But di'de thy sister of her loue my Boy?   Vio. I am all the
daughters of my Fathers house, And all the brothers too: and yet I know
not. Sir, shall I to this Lady?

Du. I that's the Theame,

To her in haste: giue her this Iewell: say, My loue can giue no place,
bide no denay.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

To. Come thy wayes Signior Fabian

Fab. Nay Ile come: if I loose a scruple of this sport, let me be
boyl'd to death with Melancholly

To. Wouldst thou not be glad to haue the niggardly Rascally
sheepe-biter, come by some notable shame?   Fa. I would exult man: you
know he brought me out o' fauour with my Lady, about a Beare-baiting
heere

To. To anger him wee'l haue the Beare againe, and we will foole him
blacke and blew, shall we not sir Andrew?   An. And we do not, it is
pittie of our liues. Enter Maria.

To. Heere comes the little villaine: How now my Mettle of India?

Mar. Get ye all three into the box tree: Maluolio's comming downe
this walke, he has beene yonder i'the Sunne practising behauiour to his
own shadow this halfe houre: obserue him for the loue of Mockerie: for
I know this Letter wil make a contemplatiue Ideot of him. Close in the
name of ieasting, lye thou there: for heere comes the Trowt, that must
be caught with tickling.

Exit

Enter Maluolio.

Mal. 'Tis but Fortune, all is fortune. Maria once told me she did
affect me, and I haue heard her self come thus neere, that should shee
fancie, it should bee one of my complection. Besides she vses me with a
more exalted respect, then any one else that followes her. What should
I thinke on't?

To. Heere's an ouer-weening rogue

Fa. Oh peace: Contemplation makes a rare Turkey Cocke of him, how he
iets vnder his aduanc'd plumes

And. Slight I could so beate the Rogue

To. Peace I say

Mal. To be Count Maluolio

To. Ah Rogue

An. Pistoll him, pistoll him

To. Peace, peace

Mal. There is example for't: The Lady of the Strachy, married the
yeoman of the wardrobe

An. Fie on him Iezabel

Fa. O peace, now he's deepely in: looke how imagination blowes him

Mal. Hauing beene three moneths married to her, sitting in my state

To. O for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye

Mal. Calling my Officers about me, in my branch'd Veluet gowne:
hauing come from a day bedde, where I haue left Oliuia sleeping

To. Fire and Brimstone

Fa. O peace, peace

Mal. And then to haue the humor of state: and after a demure
trauaile of regard: telling them I knowe my place, as I would they
should doe theirs: to aske for my kinsman Toby

To. Boltes and shackles

Fa. Oh peace, peace, peace, now, now

Mal. Seauen of my people with an obedient start, make out for him: I
frowne the while, and perchance winde vp my watch, or play with my some
rich Iewell: Toby approaches; curtsies there to me

To. Shall this fellow liue?

Fa. Though our silence be drawne from vs with cars, yet peace

Mal. I extend my hand to him thus: quenching my familiar smile with
an austere regard of controll

To. And do's not Toby take you a blow o'the lippes, then?

Mal. Saying, Cosine Toby, my Fortunes hauing cast me on your Neece,
giue me this prerogatiue of speech

To. What, what?

Mal. You must amend your drunkennesse

To. Out scab

Fab. Nay patience, or we breake the sinewes of our plot?

Mal. Besides you waste the treasure of your time, with a foolish
knight

And. That's mee I warrant you

Mal. One sir Andrew

And. I knew 'twas I, for many do call mee foole

Mal. What employment haue we heere?

Fa. Now is the Woodcocke neere the gin

To. Oh peace, and the spirit of humors intimate reading aloud to
him

Mal. By my life this is my Ladies hand: these bee her very C's, her
V's, and her T's, and thus makes shee her great P's. It is in contempt
of question her hand

An. Her C's, her V's, and her T's: why that?   Mal. To the vnknowne
belou'd, this, and my good Wishes: Her very Phrases: By your leaue wax.
Soft, and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she vses to seale: tis
my Lady: To whom should this be?

Fab. This winnes him, Liuer and all

Mal. Ioue knowes I loue, but who, Lips do not mooue, no man must
know. No man must know. What followes? The numbers alter'd: No man must
know,

If this should be thee Maluolio?

To. Marrie hang thee brocke

Mal. I may command where I adore, but silence like a Lucresse
knife:

With bloodlesse stroke my heart doth gore, M.O.A.I. doth sway my life

Fa. A fustian riddle

To. Excellent Wench, say I

Mal. M.O.A.I. doth sway my life. Nay but first let me see, let me
see, let me see

Fab. What dish a poyson has she drest him?   To. And with what wing
the stallion checkes at it?   Mal. I may command, where I adore: Why
shee may command me: I serue her, she is my Ladie. Why this is euident
to any formall capacitie. There is no obstruction in this, and the end:
What should that Alphabeticall position portend, if I could make that
resemble something in me? Softly, M.O.A.I

To. O I, make vp that, he is now at a cold sent

Fab. Sowter will cry vpon't for all this, though it bee as ranke as
a Fox

Mal. M. Maluolio, M. why that begins my name

Fab. Did not I say he would worke it out, the Curre is excellent at
faults

Mal. M. But then there is no consonancy in the sequell that suffers
vnder probation: A. should follow, but O. does

Fa. And O shall end, I hope

To. I, or Ile cudgell him, and make him cry O

Mal. And then I. comes behind

Fa. I, and you had any eye behinde you, you might see more
detraction at your heeles, then Fortunes before you

Mal. M,O,A,I. This simulation is not as the former: and yet to crush
this a little, it would bow to mee, for euery one of these Letters are
in my name. Soft, here followes prose: If this fall into thy hand,
reuolue. In my stars I am aboue thee, but be not affraid of greatnesse:
Some are become great, some atcheeues greatnesse, and some haue
greatnesse thrust vppon em. Thy fates open theyr hands, let thy blood
and spirit embrace them, and to invre thy selfe to what thou art like
to be: cast thy humble slough, and appeare fresh. Be opposite with a
kinsman, surly with seruants: Let thy tongue tang arguments of state;
put thy selfe into the tricke of singularitie. Shee thus aduises thee,
that sighes for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and
wish'd to see thee euer crosse garter'd: I say remember, goe too, thou
art made if thou desir'st to be so: If not, let me see thee a steward
still, the fellow of seruants, and not woorthie to touch Fortunes
fingers Farewell, Shee that would alter seruices with thee, the
fortunate vnhappy daylight and champian discouers not more: This is
open, I will bee proud, I will reade politicke Authours, I will baffle
Sir Toby, I will wash off grosse acquaintance, I will be point deuise,
the very man. I do not now foole my selfe, to let imagination iade mee;
for euery reason excites to this, that my Lady loues me. She did
commend my yellow stockings of late, shee did praise my legge being
crosse-garter'd, and in this she manifests her selfe to my loue, & with
a kinde of iniunction driues mee to these habites of her liking. I
thanke my starres, I am happy: I will bee strange, stout, in yellow
stockings, and crosse Garter'd, euen with the swiftnesse of putting on.
Ioue, and my starres be praised. Heere is yet a postscript. Thou canst
not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainst my loue, let it
appeare in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. Therefore in my
presence still smile, deero my sweete, I prethee. Ioue I thanke thee, I
will smile, I wil do euery thing that thou wilt haue me.

Exit

Fab. I will not giue my part of this sport for a pension of thousands
to be paid from the Sophy

To. I could marry this wench for this deuice

An. So could I too

To. And aske no other dowry with her, but such another iest.

Enter Maria.

An. Nor I neither

Fab. Heere comes my noble gull catcher

To. Wilt thou set thy foote o'my necke

An. Or o'mine either?

To. Shall I play my freedome at tray-trip, and becom thy bondslaue?

An. Ifaith, or I either?

Tob. Why, thou hast put him in such a dreame, that when the image of
it leaues him, he must run mad

Ma. Nay but say true, do's it worke vpon him?   To. Like Aqua vite
with a Midwife

Mar. If you will then see the fruites of the sport, mark his first
approach before my Lady: hee will come to her in yellow stockings, and
'tis a colour she abhorres, and crosse garter'd, a fashion shee
detests: and hee will smile vpon her, which will now be so vnsuteable
to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholly, as shee is, that
it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you wil see it
follow me

To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent diuell of wit

And. Ile make one too.

Exeunt.

Finis Actus secundus



Actus Tertius, Scaena prima.

Enter Viola and Clowne.

Vio. Saue thee Friend and thy Musick: dost thou liue by thy Tabor?

Clo. No sir, I liue by the Church

Vio. Art thou a Churchman?

Clo. No such matter sir, I do liue by the Church: For, I do liue at
my house, and my house dooth stand by the Church

Vio. So thou maist say the Kings lyes by a begger, if a begger dwell
neer him: or the Church stands by thy Tabor, if thy Tabor stand by the
Church

Clo. You haue said sir: To see this age: A sentence is but a
cheu'rill gloue to a good witte, how quickely the wrong side may be
turn'd outward

Vio. Nay that's certaine: they that dally nicely with words, may
quickely make them wanton

Clo. I would therefore my sister had had no name Sir

Vio. Why man?

Clo. Why sir, her names a word, and to dallie with that word, might
make my sister wanton: But indeede, words are very Rascals, since bonds
disgrac'd them

Vio. Thy reason man?

Clo. Troth sir, I can yeeld you none without wordes, and wordes are
growne so false, I am loath to proue reason with them

Vio. I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and car'st for nothing

Clo. Not so sir, I do care for something: but in my conscience sir,
I do not care for you: if that be to care for nothing sir, I would it
would make you inuisible

Vio. Art not thou the Lady Oliuia's foole?   Clo. No indeed sir, the
Lady Oliuia has no folly, shee will keepe no foole sir, till she be
married, and fooles are as like husbands, as Pilchers are to Herrings,
the Husbands the bigger, I am indeede not her foole, but hir corrupter
of words

Vio. I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's

Clo. Foolery sir, does walke about the Orbe like the Sun, it shines
euery where. I would be sorry sir, but the Foole should be as oft with
your Master, as with my Mistris: I thinke I saw your wisedome there

Vio. Nay, and thou passe vpon me, Ile no more with thee. Hold
there's expences for thee

Clo. Now Ioue in his next commodity of hayre, send thee a beard

Vio. By my troth Ile tell thee, I am almost sicke for one, though I
would not haue it grow on my chinne. Is thy Lady within?

Clo Would not a paire of these haue bred sir?   Vio. Yes being kept
together, and put to vse

Clo. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia sir, to bring a Cressida
to this Troylus

Vio. I vnderstand you sir, tis well begg'd

Clo. The matter I hope is not great sir; begging, but a begger:
Cressida was a begger. My Lady is within sir. I will conster to them
whence you come, who you are, and what you would are out of my welkin,
I might say Element, but the word is ouer-worne.

Exit

Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the foole, And to do that
well, craues a kinde of wit: He must obserue their mood on whom he
iests, The quality of persons, and the time:

And like the Haggard, checke at euery Feather That comes before his
eye. This is a practice, As full of labour as a Wise-mans Art:

For folly that he wisely shewes, is fit;

But wisemens folly falne, quite taint their wit. Enter Sir Toby and
Andrew.

To. Saue you Gentleman

Vio. And you sir

And. Dieu vou guard Monsieur

Vio. Et vouz ousie vostre seruiture

An. I hope sir, you are, and I am yours

To. Will you incounter the house, my Neece is desirous you should
enter, if your trade be to her

Vio. I am bound to your Neece sir, I meane she is the list of my
voyage

To. Taste your legges sir, put them to motion

Vio. My legges do better vnderstand me sir, then I vnderstand what
you meane by bidding me taste my legs

To. I meane to go sir, to enter

Vio. I will answer you with gate and entrance, but we are
preuented.

Enter Oliuia, and Gentlewoman.

Most excellent accomplish'd Lady, the heauens raine Odours on you

And. That youth's a rare Courtier, raine odours, wel

Vio. My matter hath no voice Lady, but to your owne most pregnant
and vouchsafed eare

And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed: Ile get 'em all three
already

Ol. Let the Garden doore be shut, and leaue mee to my hearing. Giue
me your hand sir

Vio. My dutie Madam, and most humble seruice

Ol. What is your name?

Vio. Cesario is your seruants name, faire Princesse

Ol. My seruant sir? 'Twas neuer merry world, Since lowly feigning
was call'd complement: Y'are seruant to the Count Orsino youth

Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: Your seruants
seruant, is your seruant Madam

Ol. For him, I thinke not on him: for his thoughts, Would they were
blankes, rather then fill'd with me

Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalfe

Ol. O by your leaue I pray you.

I bad you neuer speake againe of him;

But would you vndertake another suite

I had rather heare you, to solicit that,

Then Musicke from the spheares

Vio. Deere Lady

Ol. Giue me leaue, beseech you: I did send, After the last
enchantment you did heare, A Ring in chace of you. So did I abuse

My selfe, my seruant, and I feare me you: Vnder your hard construction
must I sit,

To force that on you in a shamefull cunning Which you knew none of
yours. What might you think? Haue you not set mine Honor at the stake,
And baited it with all th' vnmuzled thoughts That tyrannous heart can
think? To one of your receiuing Enough is shewne, a Cipresse, not a
bosome, Hides my heart: so let me heare you speake

Vio. I pittie you

Ol. That's a degree to loue

Vio. No not a grize: for tis a vulgar proofe That verie oft we pitty
enemies

Ol. Why then me thinkes 'tis time to smile agen: O world, how apt
the poore are to be proud? If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the Lion, then the Wolfe?

Clocke strikes.

The clocke vpbraides me with the waste of time: Be not affraid good
youth, I will not haue you, And yet when wit and youth is come to
haruest, Your wife is like to reape a proper man:

There lies your way, due West

Vio. Then Westward hoe:

Grace and good disposition attend your Ladyship: You'l nothing Madam to
my Lord, by me:

Ol. Stay: I prethee tell me what thou thinkst of me?   Vio. That you
do thinke you are not what you are

Ol. If I thinke so, I thinke the same of you

Vio. Then thinke you right: I am not what I am

Ol. I would you were, as I would haue you be

Vio. Would it be better Madam, then I am? I wish it might, for now I
am your foole

Ol. O what a deale of scorne, lookes beautifull? In the contempt and
anger of his lip,

A murdrous guilt shewes not it selfe more soone, Then loue that would
seeme hid: Loues night, is noone. Cesario, by the Roses of the Spring,

By maid-hood, honor, truth, and euery thing, I loue thee so, that
maugre all thy pride, Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide: Do not
extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore
hast no cause: But rather reason thus, with reason fetter; Loue sought,
is good: but giuen vnsought, is better

Vio. By innocence I sweare, and by my youth, I haue one heart, one
bosome, and one truth, And that no woman has, nor neuer none

Shall mistris be of it, saue I alone.

And so adieu good Madam, neuer more,

Will I my Masters teares to you deplore

Ol. Yet come againe: for thou perhaps mayst moue That heart which
now abhorres, to like his loue.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

And. No faith, Ile not stay a iot longer:   To. Thy reason deere
venom, giue thy reason

Fab. You must needes yeelde your reason, Sir Andrew?   And. Marry I
saw your Neece do more fauours to the Counts Seruing-man, then euer she
bestow'd vpon mee: I saw't i'th Orchard

To. Did she see the while, old boy, tell me that

And. As plaine as I see you now

Fab. This was a great argument of loue in her toward you

And. S'light; will you make an Asse o'me

Fab. I will proue it legitimate sir, vpon the Oathes of iudgement,
and reason

To. And they haue beene grand Iurie men, since before Noah was a
Saylor

Fab. Shee did shew fauour to the youth in your sight, onely to
exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your
Heart, and brimstone in your Liuer: you should then haue accosted her,
and with some excellent iests, fire-new from the mint, you should haue
bangd the youth into dumbenesse: this was look'd for at your hand, and
this was baulkt: the double gilt of this opportunitie you let time wash
off, and you are now sayld into the North of my Ladies opinion, where
you will hang like an ysickle on a Dutchmans beard, vnlesse you do
redeeme it, by some laudable attempt, either of valour or policie

And. And't be any way, it must be with Valour, for policie I hate: I
had as liefe be a Brownist, as a Politician

To. Why then build me thy fortunes vpon the basis of valour.
Challenge me the Counts youth to fight with him hurt him in eleuen
places, my Neece shall take note of it, and assure thy selfe, there is
no loue-Broker in the world, can more preuaile in mans commendation
with woman, then report of valour

Fab. There is no way but this sir Andrew

An. Will either of you beare me a challenge to him?   To. Go, write
it in a martial hand, be curst and briefe: it is no matter how wittie,
so it bee eloquent, and full of inuention: taunt him with the license
of Inke: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amisse, and
as many Lyes, as will lye in thy sheete of paper, although the sheete
were bigge enough for the bedde of Ware in England, set 'em downe, go
about it. Let there bee gaulle enough in thy inke, though thou write
with a Goose-pen, no matter: about it

And. Where shall I finde you?

To. Wee'l call thee at the Cubiculo: Go.

Exit Sir Andrew.

Fa. This is a deere Manakin to you Sir Toby

To. I haue beene deere to him lad, some two thousand strong, or so

Fa. We shall haue a rare Letter from him; but you'le not deliuer't

To. Neuer trust me then: and by all meanes stirre on the youth to an
answer. I thinke Oxen and waine-ropes cannot hale them together. For
Andrew, if he were open'd and you finde so much blood in his Liuer, as
will clog the foote of a flea, Ile eate the rest of th' anatomy

Fab. And his opposit the youth beares in his visage no great presage
of cruelty.

Enter Maria.

To. Looke where the youngest Wren of mine comes

Mar. If you desire the spleene, and will laughe your selues into
stitches, follow me; yond gull Maluolio is turned Heathen, a verie
Renegatho; for there is no christian that meanes to be saued by
beleeuing rightly, can euer beleeue such impossible passages of
grossenesse. Hee's in yellow stockings

To. And crosse garter'd?

Mar. Most villanously: like a Pedant that keepes a Schoole i'th
Church: I haue dogg'd him like his murtherer. He does obey euery point
of the Letter that I dropt, to betray him: He does smile his face into
more lynes, then is in the new Mappe, with the augmentation of the
Indies: you haue not seene such a thing as tis: I can hardly forbeare
hurling things at him, I know my Ladie will strike him: if shee doe,
hee'l smile, and take't for a great fauour

To. Come bring vs, bring vs where he is.

Exeunt. Omnes.



Scaena Tertia.

Enter Sebastian and Anthonio.

Seb. I would not by my will haue troubled you, But since you make
your pleasure of your paines, I will no further chide you

Ant. I could not stay behinde you: my desire (More sharpe then filed
steele) did spurre me forth, And not all loue to see you (though so
much As might haue drawne one to a longer voyage) But iealousie, what
might befall your trauell, Being skillesse in these parts: which to a
stranger, Vnguided, and vnfriended, often proue

Rough, and vnhospitable. My willing loue, The rather by these arguments
of feare

Set forth in your pursuite

Seb. My kinde Anthonio,

I can no other answer make, but thankes,

And thankes: and euer oft good turnes,

Are shuffel'd off with such vncurrant pay: But were my worth, as is my
conscience firme, You should finde better dealing: what's to do? Shall
we go see the reliques of this Towne?   Ant. To morrow sir, best first
go see your Lodging?   Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night I
pray you let vs satisfie our eyes

With the memorials, and the things of fame That do renowne this City

Ant. Would youl'd pardon me:

I do not without danger walke these streetes. Once in a sea-fight
'gainst the Count his gallies, I did some seruice, of such note
indeede, That were I tane heere, it would scarse be answer'd

Seb. Belike you slew great number of his people

Ant. Th' offence is not of such a bloody nature, Albeit the quality
of the time, and quarrell Might well haue giuen vs bloody argument: It
might haue since bene answer'd in repaying What we tooke from them,
which for Traffiques sake Most of our City did. Onely my selfe stood
out, For which if I be lapsed in this place

I shall pay deere

Seb. Do not then walke too open

Ant. It doth not fit me: hold sir, here's my purse, In the South
Suburbes at the Elephant

Is best to lodge: I will bespeake our dyet, Whiles you beguile the
time, and feed your knowledge With viewing of the Towne, there shall
you haue me

Seb. Why I your purse?

Ant. Haply your eye shall light vpon some toy You haue desire to
purchase: and your store I thinke is not for idle Markets, sir

Seb. Ile be your purse-bearer, and leaue you For an houre

Ant. To th' Elephant

Seb. I do remember.

Exeunt.



Scoena Quarta.

Enter Oliuia and Maria.

Ol. I haue sent after him, he sayes hee'l come: How shall I feast
him? What bestow of him? For youth is bought more oft, then begg'd, or
borrow'd. I speake too loud: Where's Maluolio, he is sad, and ciuill,
And suites well for a seruant with my fortunes, Where is Maluolio?

Mar. He's comming Madame:

But in very strange manner. He is sure possest Madam

Ol. Why what's the matter, does he raue?   Mar. No Madam, he does
nothing but smile: your Ladyship were best to haue some guard about
you, if hee come, for sure the man is tainted in's wits

Ol. Go call him hither.

Enter Maluolio.

I am as madde as hee,

If sad and merry madnesse equall bee.

How now Maluolio?

Mal. Sweet Lady, ho, ho

Ol. Smil'st thou? I sent for thee vpon a sad occasion

Mal. Sad Lady, I could be sad:

This does make some obstruction in the blood: This crosse-gartering,
but what of that?

If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true Sonnet is:
Please one, and please all

Mal. Why how doest thou man?

What is the matter with thee?

Mal. Not blacke in my minde, though yellow in my legges: It did come
to his hands, and Commaunds shall be executed. I thinke we doe know the
sweet Romane hand

Ol. Wilt thou go to bed Maluolio?

Mal. To bed? I sweet heart, and Ile come to thee

Ol. God comfort thee: Why dost thou smile so, and kisse thy hand so
oft?

Mar. How do you Maluolio?

Maluo. At your request:

Yes Nightingales answere Dawes

Mar. Why appeare you with this ridiculous boldnesse before my Lady

Mal. Be not afraid of greatnesse: 'twas well writ

Ol. What meanst thou by that Maluolio?   Mal. Some are borne great

Ol. Ha?

Mal. Some atcheeue greatnesse

Ol. What sayst thou?

Mal. And some haue greatnesse thrust vpon them

Ol. Heauen restore thee

Mal. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings

Ol. Thy yellow stockings?

Mal. And wish'd to see thee crosse garter'd

Ol. Crosse garter'd?

Mal. Go too, thou art made, if thou desir'st to be so

Ol. Am I made?

Mal. If not, let me see thee a seruant still

Ol. Why this is verie Midsommer madnesse. Enter Seruant.

Ser. Madame, the young Gentleman of the Count Orsino's is return'd, I
could hardly entreate him backe: he attends your Ladyships pleasure

Ol. Ile come to him.

Good Maria, let this fellow be look'd too. Where's my Cosine Toby, let
some of my people haue a speciall care of him, I would not haue him
miscarrie for the halfe of my Dowry.

Exit

Mal. Oh ho, do you come neere me now: no worse man then sir Toby to
looke to me. This concurres directly with the Letter, she sends him on
purpose, that I may appeare stubborne to him: for she incites me to
that in the Letter. Cast thy humble slough sayes she: be opposite with
a Kinsman, surly with seruants, let thy tongue langer with arguments of
state, put thy selfe into the tricke of singularity: and consequently
setts downe the manner how: as a sad face, a reuerend carriage, a slow
tongue, in the habite of some Sir of note, and so foorth. I haue lymde
her, but it is Ioues doing, and Ioue make me thankefull. And when she
went away now, let this Fellow be look'd too: Fellow? not Maluolio, nor
after my degree, but Fellow. Why euery thing adheres togither, that no
dramme of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no
incredulous or vnsafe circumstance: What can be saide? Nothing that can
be, can come betweene me, and the full prospect of my hopes. Well Ioue,
not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked. Enter Toby,
Fabian, and Maria.

To. Which way is hee in the name of sanctity. If all the diuels of
hell be drawne in little, and Legion himselfe possest him, yet Ile
speake to him

Fab. Heere he is, heere he is: how ist with you sir? How ist with
you man?

Mal. Go off, I discard you: let me enioy my priuate: go off

Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speakes within him; did not I tell
you? Sir Toby, my Lady prayes you to haue a care of him

Mal. Ah ha, does she so?

To. Go too, go too: peace, peace, wee must deale gently with him: Let
me alone. How do you Maluolio? How ist with you? What man, defie the
diuell: consider, he's an enemy to mankinde

Mal. Do you know what you say?

Mar. La you, and you speake ill of the diuell, how he takes it at
heart. Pray God he be not bewitch'd

Fab. Carry his water to th' wise woman

Mar. Marry and it shall be done to morrow morning if I liue. My Lady
would not loose him for more then ile say

Mal. How now mistris?

Mar. Oh Lord

To. Prethee hold thy peace, this is not the way: Doe you not see you
moue him? Let me alone with him

Fa. No way but gentlenesse, gently, gently: the Fiend is rough, and
will not be roughly vs'd

To. Why how now my bawcock? how dost y chuck?   Mal. Sir

To. I biddy, come with me. What man, tis not for grauity to play at
cherrie-pit with sathan Hang him foul Colliar

Mar. Get him to say his prayers, good sir Toby gette him to pray

Mal. My prayers Minx

Mar. No I warrant you, he will not heare of godlynesse

Mal. Go hang your selues all: you are ydle shallowe things, I am not
of your element, you shall knowe more heereafter.

Exit

To. Ist possible?

Fa. If this were plaid vpon a stage now, I could condemne it as an
improbable fiction

To. His very genius hath taken the infection of the deuice man

Mar. Nay pursue him now, least the deuice take ayre, and taint

Fa. Why we shall make him mad indeede

Mar. The house will be the quieter

To. Come, wee'l haue him in a darke room & bound. My Neece is
already in the beleefe that he's mad: we may carry it thus for our
pleasure, and his pennance, til our very pastime tyred out of breath,
prompt vs to haue mercy on him: at which time, we wil bring the deuice
to the bar and crowne thee for a finder of madmen: but see, but see.
Enter Sir Andrew.

Fa. More matter for a May morning

An. Heere's the Challenge, reade it: I warrant there's vinegar and
pepper in't

Fab. Ist so sawcy?

And. I, ist? I warrant him: do but read

To. Giue me.

Youth, whatsoeuer thou art, thou art but a scuruy fellow

Fa. Good, and valiant

To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy minde why I doe call thee so,
for I will shew thee no reason for't

Fa. A good note, that keepes you from the blow of y Law   To. Thou
comst to the Lady Oliuia, and in my sight she vses thee kindly: but
thou lyest in thy throat, that is not the matter I challenge thee for

Fa. Very breefe, and to exceeding good sence-lesse

To. I will way-lay thee going home, where if it be thy chance to
kill me

Fa. Good

To. Thou kilst me like a rogue and a villaine

Fa. Still you keepe o'th windie side of the Law: good

Tob. Fartheewell, and God haue mercie vpon one of our soules. He may
haue mercie vpon mine, but my hope is better, and so looke to thy
selfe. Thy friend as thou vsest him, & thy sworne enemie, Andrew
Ague-cheeke

To. If this Letter moue him not, his legges cannot: Ile giu't him

Mar. You may haue verie fit occasion for't: he is now in some
commerce with my Ladie, and will by and by depart

To. Go sir Andrew: scout mee for him at the corner of the Orchard
like a bum-Baylie: so soone as euer thou seest him, draw, and as thou
draw'st, sweare horrible: for it comes to passe oft, that a terrible
oath, with a swaggering accent sharpely twang'd off, giues manhoode
more approbation, then euer proofe it selfe would haue earn'd him.
Away

And. Nay let me alone for swearing.

Exit

To. Now will not I deliuer his Letter: for the behauiour of the yong
Gentleman, giues him out to be of good capacity, and breeding: his
employment betweene his Lord and my Neece, confirmes no lesse.
Therefore, this Letter being so excellently ignorant, will breed no
terror in the youth: he will finde it comes from a Clodde-pole. But
sir, I will deliuer his Challenge by word of mouth; set vpon
Ague-cheeke a notable report of valor, and driue the Gentleman (as I
know his youth will aptly receiue it) into a most hideous opinion of
his rage, skill, furie, and impetuositie. This will so fright them
both, that they wil kill one another by the looke, like Cockatrices.
Enter Oliuia and Viola.

Fab. Heere he comes with your Neece, giue them way till he take
leaue, and presently after him

To. I wil meditate the while vpon some horrid message for a
Challenge

Ol. I haue said too much vnto a hart of stone, And laid mine honour
too vnchary on't:

There's something in me that reproues my fault: But such a head-strong
potent fault it is, That it but mockes reproofe

Vio. With the same hauiour that your passion beares, Goes on my
Masters greefes

Ol. Heere, weare this Iewell for me, tis my picture: Refuse it not,
it hath no tongue, to vex you: And I beseech you come againe to
morrow.

What shall you aske of me that Ile deny,

That honour (sau'd) may vpon asking giue

Vio. Nothing but this, your true loue for my master

Ol. How with mine honor may I giue him that, Which I haue giuen to
you

Vio. I will acquit you

Ol. Well, come againe to morrow: far-thee-well, A Fiend like thee
might beare my soule to hell. Enter Toby and Fabian.

To. Gentleman, God saue thee

Vio. And you sir

To. That defence thou hast, betake the too't: of what nature the
wrongs are thou hast done him, I knowe not: but thy intercepter full of
despight, bloody as the Hunter, attends thee at the Orchard end:
dismount thy tucke, be yare in thy preparation, for thy assaylant is
quick, skilfull, and deadly

Vio. You mistake sir I am sure, no man hath any quarrell to me: my
remembrance is very free and cleere from any image of offence done to
any man

To. You'l finde it otherwise I assure you: therefore, if you hold
your life at any price, betake you to your gard: for your opposite hath
in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withall

Vio. I pray you sir what is he?

To. He is knight dubb'd with vnhatch'd Rapier, and on carpet
consideration, but he is a diuell in priuate brall, soules and bodies
hath he diuorc'd three, and his incensement at this moment is so
implacable, that satisfaction can be none, but by pangs of death and
sepulcher: Hob, nob, is his word: giu't or take't

Vio. I will returne againe into the house, and desire some conduct
of the Lady. I am no fighter, I haue heard of some kinde of men, that
put quarrells purposely on others, to taste their valour: belike this
is a man of that quirke

To. Sir, no: his indignation deriues it selfe out of a very
computent iniurie, therefore get you on, and giue him his desire. Backe
you shall not to the house, vnlesse you vndertake that with me, which
with as much safetie you might answer him: therefore on, or strippe
your sword starke naked: for meddle you must that's certain, or
forsweare to weare iron about you

Vio. This is as vnciuill as strange. I beseech you doe me this
courteous office, as to know of the Knight what my offence to him is:
it is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose

To. I will doe so. Signiour Fabian, stay you by this Gentleman, till
my returne.

Exit Toby.

Vio. Pray you sir, do you know of this matter?   Fab. I know the
knight is incenst against you, euen to a mortall arbitrement, but
nothing of the circumstance more

Vio. I beseech you what manner of man is he?   Fab. Nothing of that
wonderfull promise to read him by his forme, as you are like to finde
him in the proofe of his valour. He is indeede sir, the most skilfull,
bloudy, & fatall opposite that you could possibly haue found in anie
part of Illyria: will you walke towards him, I will make your peace
with him, if I can

Vio. I shall bee much bound to you for't: I am one, that had rather
go with sir Priest, then sir knight: I care not who knowes so much of
my mettle.

Exeunt.

Enter Toby and Andrew.

To. Why man hee s a verie diuell, I haue not seen such a firago: I
had a passe with him, rapier, scabberd, and all: and he giues me the
stucke in with such a mortall motion that it is ineuitable: and on the
answer, he payes you as surely, as your feete hits the ground they step
on. They say, he has bin Fencer to the Sophy

And. Pox on't, Ile not meddle with him

To. I but he will not now be pacified, Fabian can scarse hold him
yonder

An. Plague on't, and I thought he had beene valiant, and so cunning
in Fence, I'de haue seene him damn'd ere I'de haue challeng'd him. Let
him let the matter slip, and Ile giue him my horse, gray Capilet

To. Ile make the motion: stand heere, make a good shew on't, this
shall end without the perdition of soules, marry Ile ride your horse as
well as I ride you. Enter Fabian and Viola.

I haue his horse to take vp the quarrell, I haue perswaded him the
youths a diuell

Fa. He is as horribly conceited of him: and pants, & lookes pale, as
if a Beare were at his heeles

To. There's no remedie sir, he will fight with you for's oath sake:
marrie hee hath better bethought him of his quarrell, and hee findes
that now scarse to bee worth talking of: therefore draw for the
supportance of his vowe, he protests he will not hurt you

Vio. Pray God defend me: a little thing would make me tell them how
much I lacke of a man

Fab. Giue ground if you see him furious

To. Come sir Andrew, there's no remedie, the Gentleman will for his
honors sake haue one bowt with you: he cannot by the Duello auoide it:
but hee has promised me, as he is a Gentleman and a Soldiour, he will
not hurt you. Come on, too't

And. Pray God he keepe his oath.

Enter Antonio.

Vio. I do assure you tis against my will

Ant. Put vp your sword: if this yong Gentleman Haue done offence, I
take the fault on me: If you offend him, I for him defie you

To. You sir? Why, what are you?

Ant. One sir, that for his loue dares yet do more Then you haue heard
him brag to you he will

To. Nay, if you be an vndertaker, I am for you. Enter Officers.

Fab. O good sir Toby hold: heere come the Officers

To. Ile be with you anon

Vio. Pray sir, put your sword vp if you please

And. Marry will I sir: and for that I promis'd you Ile be as good as
my word. Hee will beare you easily, and raines well

1.Off. This is the man, do thy Office

2.Off. Anthonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino   An. You
do mistake me sir

1.Off. No sir, no iot: I know your fauour well: Though now you haue
no sea-cap on your head: Take him away, he knowes I know him well

Ant. I must obey. This comes with seeking you: But there's no
remedie, I shall answer it: What will you do: now my necessitie

Makes me to aske you for my purse. It greeues mee Much more, for what I
cannot do for you,

Then what befals my selfe: you stand amaz'd, But be of comfort

2.Off. Come sir away

Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money

Vio. What money sir?

For the fayre kindnesse you haue shew'd me heere, And part being
prompted by your present trouble, Out of my leane and low ability

Ile lend you something: my hauing is not much, Ile make diuision of my
present with you: Hold, there's halfe my Coffer

Ant. Will you deny me now,

Ist possible that my deserts to you

Can lacke perswasion. Do not tempt my misery, Least that it make me so
vnsound a man

As to vpbraid you with those kindnesses

That I haue done for you

Vio. I know of none,

Nor know I you by voyce, or any feature:

I hate ingratitude more in a man,

Then lying, vainnesse, babling drunkennesse, Or any taint of vice,
whose strong corruption Inhabites our fraile blood

Ant. Oh heauens themselues

2.Off. Come sir, I pray you go

Ant. Let me speake a little. This youth that you see heere, I
snatch'd one halfe out of the iawes of death, Releeu'd him with such
sanctitie of loue; And to his image, which me thought did promise Most
venerable worth, did I deuotion

1.Off. What's that to vs, the time goes by: Away

Ant. But oh, how vilde an idoll proues this God: Thou hast Sebastian
done good feature, shame. In Nature, there's no blemish but the minde:
None can be call'd deform'd, but the vnkinde. Vertue is beauty, but the
beauteous euill Are empty trunkes, ore-flourish'd by the deuill

1.Off. The man growes mad, away with him: Come, come sir

Ant. Leade me on.

Exit

Vio. Me thinkes his words do from such passion flye That he beleeues
himselfe, so do not I:

Proue true imagination, oh proue true,

That I deere brother, be now tane for you

To. Come hither Knight, come hither Fabian: Weel whisper ore a
couplet or two of most sage sawes

Vio. He nam'd Sebastian: I my brother know Yet liuing in my glasse:
euen such, and so In fauour was my Brother, and he went

Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,

For him I imitate: Oh if it proue,

Tempests are kinde, and salt waues fresh in loue

To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward then a Hare, his
dishonesty appeares, in leauing his frend heere in necessity, and
denying him: and for his cowardship aske Fabian

Fab. A Coward, a most deuout Coward, religious in it

And. Slid Ile after him againe, and beate him

To. Do, cuffe him soundly, but neuer draw thy sword   And. And I do
not

Fab. Come, let's see the euent

To. I dare lay any money, twill be nothing yet.

Exit



Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.

Enter Sebastian and Clowne

Clo. Will you make me beleeue, that I am not sent for you?

Seb. Go too, go too, thou art a foolish fellow, Let me be cleere of
thee

Clo. Well held out yfaith: No, I do not know you, nor I am not sent
to you by my Lady, to bid you come speake with her: nor your name is
not Master Cesario, nor this is not my nose neyther: Nothing that is
so, is so

Seb. I prethee vent thy folly some-where else, thou know'st not me

Clo. Vent my folly: He has heard that word of some great man, and
now applyes it to a foole. Vent my folly: I am affraid this great
lubber the World will proue a Cockney: I prethee now vngird thy
strangenes, and tell me what I shall vent to my Lady? Shall I vent to
hir that thou art comming?

Seb. I prethee foolish greeke depart from me, there's money for thee,
if you tarry longer, I shall giue worse paiment

Clo. By my troth thou hast an open hand: these Wisemen that giue
fooles money, get themselues a good report, after foureteene yeares
purchase.

Enter Andrew, Toby, and Fabian.

And. Now sir, haue I met you again: ther's for you

Seb. Why there's for thee, and there, and there, Are all the people
mad?

To. Hold sir, or Ile throw your dagger ore the house   Clo. This will
I tell my Lady straight, I would not be in some of your coats for two
pence

To. Come on sir, hold

An. Nay let him alone, Ile go another way to worke with him: Ile
haue an action of Battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria:
though I stroke him first, yet it's no matter for that

Seb. Let go thy hand

To. Come sir, I will not let you go. Come my yong souldier put vp
your yron: you are well flesh'd: Come on

Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst y now? If thou dar'st
tempt me further, draw thy sword

To. What, what? Nay then I must haue an Ounce or two of this
malapert blood from you.

Enter Oliuia.

Ol. Hold Toby, on thy life I charge thee hold

To. Madam

Ol. Will it be euer thus? Vngracious wretch, Fit for the Mountaines,
and the barbarous Caues, Where manners nere were preach'd: out of my
sight. Be not offended, deere Cesario:

Rudesbey be gone. I prethee gentle friend, Let thy fayre wisedome, not
thy passion sway In this vnciuill, and vniust extent

Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And heare thou there how
many fruitlesse prankes This Ruffian hath botch'd vp, that thou thereby
Mayst smile at this: Thou shalt not choose but goe: Do not denie,
beshrew his soule for mee,

He started one poore heart of mine, in thee

Seb. What rellish is in this? How runs the streame? Or I am mad, or
else this is a dreame:

Let fancie still my sense in Lethe steepe, If it be thus to dreame,
still let me sleepe

Ol. Nay come I prethee, would thoud'st be rul'd by me   Seb. Madam,
I will

Ol. O say so, and so be.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Maria and Clowne.

Mar. Nay, I prethee put on this gown, & this beard, make him beleeue
thou art sir Topas the Curate, doe it quickly. Ile call sir Toby the
whilst

Clo. Well, Ile put it on, and I will dissemble my selfe in't, and I
would I were the first that euer dissembled in in such a gowne. I am
not tall enough to become the function well, nor leane enough to bee
thought a good Studient: but to be said an honest man and a good
houskeeper goes as fairely, as to say, a carefull man, & a great
scholler. The Competitors enter.

Enter Toby.

To. Ioue blesse thee M[aster]. Parson

Clo. Bonos dies sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prage that neuer
saw pen and inke, very wittily sayd to a Neece of King Gorbodacke, that
that is, is: so I being M[aster]. Parson, am M[aster]. Parson; for what
is that, but that? and is, but is?   To. To him sir Topas

Clow. What hoa, I say, Peace in this prison

To. The knaue counterfets well: a good knaue.

Maluolio within.

Mal. Who cals there?

Clo. Sir Topas the Curate, who comes to visit Maluolio the Lunaticke

Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas goe to my Ladie

Clo. Out hyperbolicall fiend, how vexest thou this man? Talkest thou
nothing but of Ladies?

Tob. Well said M[aster]. Parson

Mal. Sir Topas, neuer was man thus wronged, good sir Topas do not
thinke I am mad: they haue layde mee heere in hideous darknesse

Clo. Fye, thou dishonest sathan: I call thee by the most modest
termes, for I am one of those gentle ones, that will vse the diuell
himselfe with curtesie: sayst thou that house is darke?

Mal. As hell sir Topas

Clo. Why it hath bay Windowes transparant as baricadoes, and the
cleere stores toward the South north, are as lustrous as Ebony: and yet
complainest thou of obstruction?   Mal. I am not mad sir Topas, I say
to you this house is darke

Clo. Madman thou errest: I say there is no darknesse but ignorance,
in which thou art more puzel'd then the aegyptians in their fogge

Mal. I say this house is as darke as Ignorance, thogh Ignorance were
as darke as hell; and I say there was neuer man thus abus'd, I am no
more madde then you are, make the triall of it in any constant
question

Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning Wilde-fowle?

Mal. That the soule of our grandam, might happily inhabite a bird

Clo. What thinkst thou of his opinion?   Mal. I thinke nobly of the
soule, and no way aproue his opinion

Clo. Fare thee well: remaine thou still in darkenesse, thou shalt
hold th' opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits, and feare
to kill a Woodcocke, lest thou dispossesse the soule of thy grandam.
Fare thee well

Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas

Tob. My most exquisite sir Topas

Clo. Nay I am for all waters

Mar. Thou mightst haue done this without thy berd and gowne, he sees
thee not

To. To him in thine owne voyce, and bring me word how thou findst
him: I would we were well ridde of this knauery. If he may bee
conueniently deliuer'd, I would he were, for I am now so farre in
offence with my Niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport
the vppeshot. Come by and by to my Chamber.

Exit

Clo. Hey Robin, iolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady does

Mal. Foole

Clo. My Lady is vnkind, perdie

Mal. Foole

Clo. Alas why is she so?

Mal. Foole, I say

Clo. She loues another. Who calles, ha?   Mal. Good foole, as euer
thou wilt deserue well at my hand, helpe me to a Candle, and pen, inke,
and paper: as I am a Gentleman, I will liue to bee thankefull to thee
for't

Clo. M[aster]. Maluolio?

Mal. I good Foole

Clo. Alas sir, how fell you besides your fiue witts?   Mall. Foole,
there was neuer man so notoriouslie abus'd: I am as well in my wits
(foole) as thou art

Clo. But as well: then you are mad indeede, if you be no better in
your wits then a foole

Mal. They haue heere propertied me: keepe mee in darkenesse, send
Ministers to me, Asses, and doe all they can to face me out of my wits

Clo. Aduise you what you say: the Minister is heere. Maluolio,
Maluolio, thy wittes the heauens restore: endeauour thy selfe to
sleepe, and leaue thy vaine bibble babble

Mal. Sir Topas

Clo. Maintaine no words with him good fellow. Who I sir, not I sir.
God buy you good sir Topas: Marry Amen. I will sir, I will

Mal. Foole, foole, foole I say

Clo. Alas sir be patient. What say you sir, I am shent for speaking
to you

Mal. Good foole, helpe me to some light, and some paper, I tell thee
I am as well in my wittes, as any man in Illyria

Clo. Well-a-day, that you were sir

Mal. By this hand I am: good foole, some inke, paper, and light: and
conuey what I will set downe to my Lady: it shall aduantage thee more,
then euer the bearing of Letter did

Clo. I will help you too't. But tel me true, are you not mad indeed,
or do you but counterfeit

Mal. Beleeue me I am not, I tell thee true

Clo. Nay, Ile nere beleeue a madman till I see his brains I will
fetch you light, and paper, and inke

Mal. Foole, Ile requite it in the highest degree: I prethee be gone

Clo. I am gone sir, and anon sir,

Ile be with you againe:

In a trice, like to the old vice,

your neede to sustaine.

Who with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath, cries ah ha, to the
diuell:

Like a mad lad, paire thy nayles dad,

Adieu good man diuell.

Exit



Scaena Tertia.

Enter Sebastian.

This is the ayre, that is the glorious Sunne, This pearle she gaue me,
I do feel't, and see't, And though tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet
'tis not madnesse. Where's Anthonio then, I could not finde him at the
Elephant,

Yet there he was, and there I found this credite, That he did range the
towne to seeke me out, His councell now might do me golden seruice, For
though my soule disputes well with my sence, That this may be some
error, but no madnesse, Yet doth this accident and flood of Fortune, So
farre exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am readie to distrust
mine eyes,

And wrangle with my reason that perswades me To any other trust, but
that I am mad,

Or else the Ladies mad; yet if 'twere so, She could not sway her house,
command her followers, Take, and giue backe affayres, and their
dispatch, With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing As I
perceiue she do's: there's something in't That is deceiueable. But
heere the Lady comes. Enter Oliuia, and Priest.

Ol. Blame not this haste of mine: if you meane well Now go with me,
and with this holy man

Into the Chantry by: there before him,

And vnderneath that consecrated roofe,

Plight me the full assurance of your faith, That my most iealious, and
too doubtfull soule May liue at peace. He shall conceale it,

Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, What time we will our
celebration keepe

According to my birth, what do you say?

Seb. Ile follow this good man, and go with you, And hauing sworne
truth, euer will be true

Ol. Then lead the way good father, & heauens so shine, That they may
fairely note this acte of mine.

Exeunt.

Finis Actus Quartus.



Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Clowne and Fabian.

Fab. Now as thou lou'st me, let me see his Letter

Clo. Good M[aster]. Fabian, grant me another request

Fab. Any thing

Clo. Do not desire to see this Letter

Fab. This is to giue a dogge, and in recompence desire my dogge
againe.

Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and Lords.

Duke. Belong you to the Lady Oliuia, friends?   Clo. I sir, we are
some of her trappings

Duke. I know thee well: how doest thou my good Fellow?

Clo. Truely sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my
friends

Du. Iust the contrary: the better for thy friends

Clo. No sir, the worse

Du. How can that be?

Clo. Marry sir, they praise me, and make an asse of me, now my foes
tell me plainly, I am an Asse: so that by my foes sir, I profit in the
knowledge of my selfe, and by my friends I am abused: so that
conclusions to be as kisses, if your foure negatiues make your two
affirmatiues, why then the worse for my friends, and the better for my
foes

Du. Why this is excellent

Clo. By my troth sir, no: though it please you to be one of my
friends

Du. Thou shalt not be the worse for me, there's gold

Clo. But that it would be double dealing sir, I would you could make
it another

Du. O you giue me ill counsell

Clo. Put your grace in your pocket sir, for this once, and let your
flesh and blood obey it

Du. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double dealer: there's
another

Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play, and the olde saying is,
the third payes for all: the triplex sir, is a good tripping measure,
or the belles of S[aint]. Bennet sir, may put you in minde, one, two,
three

Du. You can foole no more money out of mee at this throw: if you
will let your Lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her
along with you, it may awake my bounty further

Clo. Marry sir, lullaby to your bountie till I come agen. I go sir,
but I would not haue you to thinke, that my desire of hauing is the
sinne of couetousnesse: but as you say sir, let your bounty take a
nappe, I will awake it anon.

Exit

Enter Anthonio and Officers.

Vio. Here comes the man sir, that did rescue mee

Du. That face of his I do remember well, Yet when I saw it last, it
was besmear'd

As blacke as Vulcan, in the smoake of warre: A bawbling Vessell was he
Captaine of,

For shallow draught and bulke vnprizable, With which such scathfull
grapple did he make, With the most noble bottome of our Fleete, That
very enuy, and the tongue of losse

Cride fame and honor on him: What's the matter?   1.Offi. Orsino, this
is that Anthonio

That tooke the Phoenix, and her fraught from Candy, And this is he that
did the Tiger boord,

When your yong Nephew Titus lost his legge; Heere in the streets,
desperate of shame and state, In priuate brabble did we apprehend him

Vio. He did me kindnesse sir, drew on my side, But in conclusion put
strange speech vpon me, I know not what 'twas, but distraction

Du. Notable Pyrate, thou salt-water Theefe, What foolish boldnesse
brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou in termes so bloudie, and so
deere Hast made thine enemies?

Ant. Orsino: Noble sir,

Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you giue mee: Anthonio neuer
yet was Theefe, or Pyrate, Though I confesse, on base and ground enough
Orsino's enemie. A witchcraft drew me hither: That most ingratefull boy
there by your side, From the rude seas enrag'd and foamy mouth Did I
redeeme: a wracke past hope he was: His life I gaue him, and did
thereto adde My loue without retention, or restraint,

All his in dedication. For his sake,

Did I expose my selfe (pure for his loue) Into the danger of this
aduerse Towne,

Drew to defend him, when he was beset:

Where being apprehended, his false cunning (Not meaning to partake with
me in danger) Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, And grew a
twentie yeeres remoued thing

While one would winke: denide me mine owne purse, Which I had
recommended to his vse,

Not halfe an houre before

Vio. How can this be?

Du. When came he to this Towne?

Ant. To day my Lord: and for three months before, No intrim, not a
minutes vacancie,

Both day and night did we keepe companie. Enter Oliuia and attendants.

Du. Heere comes the Countesse, now heauen walkes on earth:

But for thee fellow, fellow thy words are madnesse, Three monthes this
youth hath tended vpon mee, But more of that anon. Take him aside

Ol. What would my Lord, but that he may not haue, Wherein Oliuia may
seeme seruiceable?

Cesario, you do not keepe promise with me

Vio. Madam:

Du. Gracious Oliuia

Ol. What do you say Cesario? Good my Lord

Vio. My Lord would speake, my dutie hushes me

Ol. If it be ought to the old tune my Lord, It is as fat and fulsome
to mine eare

As howling after Musicke

Du. Still so cruell?

Ol. Still so constant Lord

Du. What to peruersenesse? you vnciuill Ladie To whose ingrate, and
vnauspicious Altars My soule the faithfull'st offrings haue breath'd
out That ere deuotion tender'd. What shall I do?   Ol. Euen what it
please my Lord, that shal becom him   Du. Why should I not, (had I the
heart to do it) Like to th' Egyptian theefe, at point of death Kill
what I loue: (a sauage iealousie,

That sometime sauours nobly) but heare me this: Since you to
non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument

That screwes me from my true place in your fauour: Liue you the
Marble-brested Tirant still. But this your Minion, whom I know you
loue, And whom, by heauen I sweare, I tender deerely, Him will I teare
out of that cruell eye,

Where he sits crowned in his masters spight. Come boy with me, my
thoughts are ripe in mischiefe: Ile sacrifice the Lambe that I do
loue,

To spight a Rauens heart within a Doue

Vio. And I most iocund, apt, and willinglie, To do you rest, a
thousand deaths would dye

Ol. Where goes Cesario?

Vio. After him I loue,

More then I loue these eyes, more then my life, More by all mores, then
ere I shall loue wife. If I do feigne, you witnesses aboue

Punish my life, for tainting of my loue

Ol. Aye me detested, how am I beguil'd?   Vio. Who does beguile you?
who does do you wrong?   Ol. Hast thou forgot thy selfe? Is it so long?
Call forth the holy Father

Du. Come, away

Ol. Whether my Lord? Cesario, Husband, stay

Du. Husband?

Ol. I Husband. Can he that deny?

Du. Her husband, sirrah?

Vio. No my Lord, not I

Ol. Alas, it is the basenesse of thy feare, That makes thee strangle
thy propriety:

Feare not Cesario, take thy fortunes vp,

Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou
fear'st.

Enter Priest.

O welcome Father:

Father, I charge thee by thy reuerence

Heere to vnfold, though lately we intended To keepe in darkenesse, what
occasion now Reueales before 'tis ripe: what thou dost know Hath newly
past, betweene this youth, and me

Priest. A Contract of eternall bond of loue, Confirm'd by mutuall
ioynder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lippes,

Strengthned by enterchangement of your rings, And all the Ceremonie of
this compact

Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:

Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my graue I haue trauail'd but
two houres

Du. O thou dissembling Cub: what wilt thou be When time hath sow'd a
grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickely grow, That
thine owne trip shall be thine ouerthrow: Farewell, and take her, but
direct thy feete, Where thou, and I (henceforth) may neuer meet

Vio. My Lord, I do protest

Ol. O do not sweare,

Hold little faith, though thou hast too much feare. Enter Sir Andrew.

And. For the loue of God a Surgeon, send one presently to sir Toby

Ol. What's the matter?

And. H'as broke my head acrosse, and has giuen Sir   Toby a bloody
Coxcombe too: for the loue of God your helpe, I had rather then forty
pound I were at home

Ol. Who has done this sir Andrew?

And. The Counts Gentleman, one Cesario: we tooke him for a Coward,
but hee's the verie diuell, incardinate

Du. My Gentleman Cesario?

And. Odd's lifelings heere he is: you broke my head for nothing, and
that that I did, I was set on to do't by sir Toby

Vio. Why do you speake to me, I neuer hurt you: You drew your sword
vpon me without cause, But I bespake you faire, and hurt you not. Enter
Toby and Clowne.

And. If a bloody coxcombe be a hurt, you haue hurt me: I thinke you
set nothing by a bloody Coxecombe. Heere comes sir Toby halting, you
shall heare more: but if he had not beene in drinke, hee would haue
tickel'd you other gates then he did

Du. How now Gentleman? how ist with you?   To. That's all one, has
hurt me, and there's th' end on't: Sot, didst see Dicke Surgeon, sot?

Clo. O he's drunke sir Toby an houre agone: his eyes were set at
eight i'th morning

To. Then he's a Rogue, and a passy measures pauyn: I hate a drunken
rogue

Ol. Away with him? Who hath made this hauocke with them?

And. Ile helpe you sir Toby, because we'll be drest together

To. Will you helpe an Asse-head, and a coxcombe, & a knaue: a thin
fac'd knaue, a gull?

Ol. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd too. Enter Sebastian.

Seb. I am sorry Madam I haue hurt your kinsman: But had it beene the
brother of my blood, I must haue done no lesse with wit and safety. You
throw a strange regard vpon me, and by that I do perceiue it hath
offended you:

Pardon me (sweet one) euen for the vowes

We made each other, but so late ago

Du. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons, A naturall
Perspectiue, that is, and is not

Seb. Anthonio: O my deere Anthonio,

How haue the houres rack'd, and tortur'd me, Since I haue lost thee?

Ant. Sebastian are you?

Seb. Fear'st thou that Anthonio?

Ant. How haue you made diuision of your selfe, An apple cleft in two,
is not more twin

Then these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?   Ol. Most wonderfull

Seb. Do I stand there? I neuer had a brother: Nor can there be that
Deity in my nature

Of heere, and euery where. I had a sister, Whom the blinde waues and
surges haue deuour'd: Of charity, what kinne are you to me?

What Countreyman? What name? What Parentage?   Vio. Of Messaline:
Sebastian was my Father, Such a Sebastian was my brother too:

So went he suited to his watery tombe:

If spirits can assume both forme and suite, You come to fright vs

Seb. A spirit I am indeed,

But am in that dimension grossely clad,

Which from the wombe I did participate.

Were you a woman, as the rest goes euen,

I should my teares let fall vpon your cheeke, And say, thrice welcome
drowned Viola

Vio. My father had a moale vpon his brow

Seb. And so had mine

Vio. And dide that day when Viola from her birth Had numbred
thirteene yeares

Seb. O that record is liuely in my soule, He finished indeed his
mortall acte

That day that made my sister thirteene yeares

Vio. If nothing lets to make vs happie both, But this my masculine
vsurp'd attyre:

Do not embrace me, till each circumstance, Of place, time, fortune, do
cohere and iumpe That I am Viola, which to confirme,

Ile bring you to a Captaine in this Towne, Where lye my maiden weeds:
by whose gentle helpe, I was preseru'd to serue this Noble Count: All
the occurrence of my fortune since

Hath beene betweene this Lady, and this Lord

Seb. So comes it Lady, you haue beene mistooke: But Nature to her
bias drew in that.

You would haue bin contracted to a Maid,

Nor are you therein (by my life) deceiu'd, You are betroth'd both to a
maid and man

Du. Be not amaz'd, right noble is his blood: If this be so, as yet
the glasse seemes true, I shall haue share in this most happy wracke,
Boy, thou hast saide to me a thousand times, Thou neuer should'st loue
woman like to me

Vio. And all those sayings, will I ouer sweare, And all those
swearings keepe as true in soule, As doth that Orbed Continent, the
fire,

That seuers day from night

Du. Giue me thy hand,

And let me see thee in thy womans weedes

Vio. The Captaine that did bring me first on shore Hath my Maides
garments: he vpon some Action Is now in durance, at Maluolio's suite,

a Gentleman, and follower of my Ladies

Ol. He shall inlarge him: fetch Maluolio hither, And yet alas, now I
remember me,

They say poore Gentleman, he's much distract. Enter Clowne with a
Letter, and Fabian.

A most extracting frensie of mine owne

From my remembrance, clearly banisht his. How does he sirrah?

Cl. Truely Madam, he holds Belzebub at the staues end as well as a
man in his case may do: has heere writ a letter to you, I should haue
giuen't you to day morning. But as a madmans Epistles are no Gospels,
so it skilles not much when they are deliuer'd

Ol. Open't, and read it

Clo. Looke then to be well edified, when the Foole deliuers the
Madman. By the Lord Madam

Ol. How now, art thou mad?

Clo. No Madam, I do but reade madnesse: and your Ladyship will haue
it as it ought to bee, you must allow Vox

Ol. Prethee reade i'thy right wits

Clo. So I do Madona: but to reade his right wits, is to reade thus:
therefore, perpend my Princesse, and giue eare

Ol. Read it you, sirrah

Fab. Reads. By the Lord Madam, you wrong me, and the world shall
know it: Though you haue put mee into darkenesse, and giuen your
drunken Cosine rule ouer me, yet haue I the benefit of my senses as
well as your Ladieship. I haue your owne letter, that induced mee to
the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not, but to do my selfe
much right, or you much shame: thinke of me as you please. I leaue my
duty a little vnthought of, and speake out of my iniury. The madly vs'd
Maluolio

Ol. Did he write this?

Clo. I Madame

Du. This sauours not much of distraction

Ol. See him deliuer'd Fabian, bring him hither: My Lord, so please
you, these things further thought on, To thinke me as well a sister, as
a wife, One day shall crowne th' alliance on't, so please you, Heere at
my house, and at my proper cost

Du. Madam, I am most apt t' embrace your offer: Your Master quits
you: and for your seruice done him, So much against the mettle of your
sex,

So farre beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you call'd me
Master, for so long: Heere is my hand, you shall from this time bee
Your Masters Mistris

Ol. A sister, you are she.

Enter Maluolio.

Du. Is this the Madman?

Ol. I my Lord, this same: How now Maluolio?   Mal. Madam, you haue
done me wrong,

Notorious wrong

Ol. Haue I Maluolio? No

Mal. Lady you haue, pray you peruse that Letter. You must not now
denie it is your hand,

Write from it if you can, in hand, or phrase, Or say, tis not your
seale, not your inuention: You can say none of this. Well, grant it
then, And tell me in the modestie of honor,

Why you haue giuen me such cleare lights of fauour, Bad me come
smiling, and crosse-garter'd to you, To put on yellow stockings, and to
frowne Vpon sir Toby, and the lighter people:

And acting this in an obedient hope,

Why haue you suffer'd me to be imprison'd, Kept in a darke house,
visited by the Priest, And made the most notorious gecke and gull, That
ere inuention plaid on? Tell me why?   Ol. Alas Maluolio, this is not
my writing, Though I confesse much like the Charracter: But out of
question, tis Marias hand.

And now I do bethinke me, it was shee

First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling, And in such
formes, which heere were presuppos'd Vpon thee in the Letter: prethee
be content, This practice hath most shrewdly past vpon thee: But when
we know the grounds, and authors of it, Thou shalt be both the
Plaintiffe and the Iudge Of thine owne cause

Fab. Good Madam heare me speake,

And let no quarrell, nor no braule to come, Taint the condition of this
present houre, Which I haue wondred at. In hope it shall not, Most
freely I confesse my selfe, and Toby Set this deuice against Maluolio
heere,

Vpon some stubborne and vncourteous parts We had conceiu'd against him.
Maria writ

The Letter, at sir Tobyes great importance, In recompence whereof, he
hath married her: How with a sportfull malice it was follow'd, May
rather plucke on laughter then reuenge, If that the iniuries be iustly
weigh'd,

That haue on both sides past

Ol. Alas poore Foole, how haue they baffel'd thee?   Clo. Why some
are borne great, some atchieue greatnesse, and some haue greatnesse
throwne vpon them. I was one sir, in this Enterlude, one sir Topas sir,
but that's all one: By the Lord Foole, I am not mad: but do you
remember, Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascall, and you smile
not he's gag'd: and thus the whirlegigge of time, brings in his
reuenges

Mal. Ile be reueng'd on the whole packe of you?   Ol. He hath bene
most notoriously abus'd

Du. Pursue him, and entreate him to a peace: He hath not told vs of
the Captaine yet,

When that is knowne, and golden time conuents A solemne Combination
shall be made

Of our deere soules. Meane time sweet sister, We will not part from
hence. Cesario come (For so you shall be while you are a man:) But when
in other habites you are seene,

Orsino's Mistris, and his fancies Queene.

Exeunt.

Clowne sings .

When that I was and a little tine boy,

with hey, ho, the winde and the raine:

A foolish thing was but a toy,

for the raine it raineth euery day.

But when I came to mans estate,

with hey ho, &c.

Gainst Knaues and Theeues men shut their gate, for the raine, &c.

But when I came alas to wiue,

with hey ho, &c.

By swaggering could I neuer thriue,

for the raine, &c.

But when I came vnto my beds,

with hey ho, &c.

With tospottes still had drunken heades,

for the raine, &c.

A great while ago the world begon,

hey ho, &c.

But that's all one, our Play is done,

and wee'l striue to please you euery day.

FINIS. Twelfe Night, Or what you will.



The Winters Tale

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Camillo and Archidamus.

Arch. If you shall chance (Camillo) to visit Bohemia, on the like
occasion whereon my seruices are now on-foot, you shall see (as I haue
said) great difference betwixt our Bohemia, and your Sicilia

Cam. I thinke, this comming Summer, the King of Sicilia meanes to
pay Bohemia the Visitation, which hee iustly owes him

Arch. Wherein our Entertainment shall shame vs: we will be iustified
in our Loues: for indeed-   Cam. 'Beseech you-

Arch. Verely I speake it in the freedome of my knowledge: we cannot
with such magnificence- in so rare- I know not what to say- Wee will
giue you sleepie Drinkes, that your Sences (vn-intelligent of our
insufficience) may, though they cannot prayse vs, as little accuse vs

Cam. You pay a great deale to deare, for what's giuen freely

Arch. 'Beleeue me, I speake as my vnderstanding instructs me, and as
mine honestie puts it to vtterance

Cam. Sicilia cannot shew himselfe ouer-kind to Bohemia: They were
trayn'd together in their Childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them
then such an affection, which cannot chuse but braunch now. Since their
more mature Dignities, and Royall Necessities, made seperation of their
Societie, their Encounters (though not Personall) hath been Royally
attornyed with enter-change of Gifts, Letters, louing Embassies, that
they haue seem'd to be together, though absent: shooke hands, as ouer a
Vast; and embrac'd as it were from the ends of opposed Winds. The
Heauens continue their Loues

Arch. I thinke there is not in the World, either Malice or Matter,
to alter it. You haue an vnspeakable comfort of your young Prince
Mamillius: it is a Gentleman of the greatest Promise, that euer came
into my Note

Cam. I very well agree with you, in the hopes of him: it is a
gallant Child; one, that (indeed) Physicks the Subiect, makes old
hearts fresh: they that went on Crutches ere he was borne, desire yet
their life, to see him a Man

Arch. Would they else be content to die?   Cam. Yes; if there were
no other excuse, why they should desire to liue

Arch. If the King had no Sonne, they would desire to liue on
Crutches till he had one.

Exeunt.



Scoena Secunda.

Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, Polixenes, Camillo.

Pol. Nine Changes of the Watry-Starre hath been The Shepheards Note,
since we haue left our Throne Without a Burthen: Time as long againe

Would be fill'd vp (my Brother) with our Thanks, And yet we should, for
perpetuitie,

Goe hence in debt: And therefore, like a Cypher (Yet standing in rich
place) I multiply

With one we thanke you, many thousands moe, That goe before it

Leo. Stay your Thanks a while,

And pay them when you part

Pol. Sir, that's to morrow:

I am question'd by my feares, of what may chance, Or breed vpon our
absence, that may blow

No sneaping Winds at home, to make vs say, This is put forth too truly:
besides, I haue stay'd To tyre your Royaltie

Leo. We are tougher (Brother)

Then you can put vs to't

Pol. No longer stay

Leo. One Seue' night longer

Pol. Very sooth, to morrow

Leo. Wee'le part the time betweene's then: and in that Ile no
gaine-saying

Pol. Presse me not ('beseech you) so:

There is no Tongue that moues; none, none i'th' World So soone as
yours, could win me: so it should now, Were there necessitie in your
request, although 'Twere needfull I deny'd it. My Affaires

Doe euen drag me home-ward: which to hinder, Were (in your Loue) a Whip
to me; my stay, To you a Charge, and Trouble: to saue both, Farewell
(our Brother.)

Leo. Tongue-ty'd our Queene? speake you

Her. I had thought (Sir) to haue held my peace, vntill You had
drawne Oathes from him, not to stay: you (Sir) Charge him too coldly.
Tell him, you are sure All in Bohemia's well: this satisfaction, The
by-gone-day proclaym'd, say this to him, He's beat from his best ward

Leo. Well said, Hermione

Her. To tell, he longs to see his Sonne, were strong: But let him
say so then, and let him goe; But let him sweare so, and he shall not
stay, Wee'l thwack him hence with Distaffes.

Yet of your Royall presence, Ile aduenture The borrow of a Weeke. When
at Bohemia

You take my Lord, Ile giue him my Commission, To let him there a
Moneth, behind the Gest Prefix'd for's parting: yet (good-deed)
Leontes, I loue thee not a Iarre o'th' Clock, behind What Lady she her
Lord. You'le stay?

Pol. No, Madame

Her. Nay, but you will?

Pol. I may not verely

Her. Verely?

You put me off with limber Vowes: but I,

Though you would seek t' vnsphere the Stars with Oaths, Should yet say,
Sir, no going: Verely

You shall not goe; a Ladyes Verely 'is

As potent as a Lords. Will you goe yet?

Force me to keepe you as a Prisoner,

Not like a Guest: so you shall pay your Fees When you depart, and saue
your Thanks. How say you? My Prisoner? or my Guest? by your dread
Verely, One of them you shall be

Pol. Your Guest then, Madame:

To be your Prisoner, should import offending; Which is for me, lesse
easie to commit,

Then you to punish

Her. Not your Gaoler then,

But your kind Hostesse. Come, Ile question you Of my Lords Tricks, and
yours, when you were Boyes: You were pretty Lordings then?

Pol. We were (faire Queene)

Two Lads, that thought there was no more behind, But such a day to
morrow, as to day,

And to be Boy eternall

Her. Was not my Lord

The veryer Wag o'th' two?

Pol. We were as twyn'd Lambs, that did frisk i'th' Sun, And bleat the
one at th' other: what we chang'd, Was Innocence, for Innocence: we
knew not The Doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd

That any did: Had we pursu'd that life,

And our weake Spirits ne're been higher rear'd With stronger blood, we
should haue answer'd Heauen Boldly, not guilty; the Imposition clear'd,
Hereditarie ours

Her. By this we gather

You haue tript since

Pol. O my most sacred Lady,

Temptations haue since then been borne to's: for In those vnfledg'd
dayes, was my Wife a Girle; Your precious selfe had then not cross'd
the eyes Of my young Play-fellow

Her. Grace to boot:

Of this make no conclusion, least you say Your Queene and I are Deuils:
yet goe on, Th' offences we haue made you doe, wee'le answere, If you
first sinn'd with vs: and that with vs You did continue fault; and that
you slipt not With any, but with vs

Leo. Is he woon yet?

Her. Hee'le stay (my Lord.)

Leo. At my request, he would not:

Hermione (my dearest) thou neuer spoak'st To better purpose

Her. Neuer?

Leo. Neuer, but once

Her. What? haue I twice said well? when was't before? I prethee tell
me: cram's with prayse, and make's As fat as tame things: One good
deed, dying tonguelesse, Slaughters a thousand, wayting vpon that. Our
prayses are our Wages. You may ride's With one soft Kisse a thousand
Furlongs, ere With Spur we heat an Acre. But to th' Goale: My last good
deed, was to entreat his stay. What was my first? it ha's an elder
Sister, Or I mistake you: O, would her Name were Grace. But once before
I spoke to th' purpose? when? Nay, let me haue't: I long

Leo. Why, that was when

Three crabbed Moneths had sowr'd themselues to death, Ere I could make
thee open thy white Hand: A clap thy selfe, my Loue; then didst thou
vtter, I am yours for euer

Her. 'Tis Grace indeed.

Why lo-you now; I haue spoke to th' purpose twice: The one, for euer
earn'd a Royall Husband; Th' other, for some while a Friend

Leo. Too hot, too hot:

To mingle friendship farre, is mingling bloods. I haue Tremor Cordis on
me: my heart daunces, But not for ioy; not ioy. This Entertainment May
a free face put on: deriue a Libertie From Heartinesse, from Bountie,
fertile Bosome, And well become the Agent: 't may; I graunt: But to be
padling Palmes, and pinching Fingers, As now they are, and making
practis'd Smiles As in a Looking-Glasse; and then to sigh, as 'twere
The Mort o'th' Deere: oh, that is entertainment My Bosome likes not,
nor my Browes. Mamillius, Art thou my Boy?

Mam. I, my good Lord

Leo. I'fecks:

Why that's my Bawcock: what? has't smutch'd thy Nose? They say it is a
Coppy out of mine. Come Captaine, We must be neat; not neat, but
cleanly, Captaine: And yet the Steere, the Heycfer, and the Calfe, Are
all call'd Neat. Still Virginalling

Vpon his Palme? How now (you wanton Calfe) Art thou my Calfe?

Mam. Yes, if you will (my Lord.)

Leo. Thou want'st a rough pash, & the shoots that I haue To be full,
like me: yet they say we are

Almost as like as Egges; Women say so,

(That will say any thing.) But were they false As o're-dy'd Blacks, as
Wind, as Waters; false As Dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixes No
borne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true, To say this Boy were like
me. Come (Sir Page) Looke on me with your Welkin eye: sweet Villaine,
Most dear'st, my Collop: Can thy Dam, may't be Affection? thy Intention
stabs the Center. Thou do'st make possible things not so held,
Communicat'st with Dreames (how can this be?) With what's vnreall: thou
coactiue art,

And fellow'st nothing. Then 'tis very credent, Thou may'st co-ioyne
with something, and thou do'st, (And that beyond Commission) and I find
it, (And that to the infection of my Braines, And hardning of my
Browes.)

Pol. What meanes Sicilia?

Her. He something seemes vnsetled

Pol. How? my Lord?

Leo. What cheere? how is't with you, best Brother?   Her. You look as
if you held a Brow of much distraction: Are you mou'd (my Lord?)

Leo. No, in good earnest.

How sometimes Nature will betray it's folly? It's tendernesse? and make
it selfe a Pastime To harder bosomes? Looking on the Lynes

Of my Boyes face, me thoughts I did requoyle Twentie three yeeres, and
saw my selfe vn-breech'd, In my greene Veluet Coat; my Dagger muzzel'd,
Least it should bite it's Master, and so proue (As Ornaments oft do's)
too dangerous:

How like (me thought) I then was to this Kernell, This Squash, this
Gentleman. Mine honest Friend, Will you take Egges for Money?

Mam. No (my Lord) Ile fight

Leo. You will: why happy man be's dole. My Brother Are you so fond
of your young Prince, as we Doe seeme to be of ours?

Pol. If at home (Sir)

He's all my Exercise, my Mirth, my Matter; Now my sworne Friend, and
then mine Enemy; My Parasite, my Souldier: States-man; all: He makes a
Iulyes day, short as December, And with his varying childnesse, cures
in me Thoughts, that would thick my blood

Leo. So stands this Squire

Offic'd with me: We two will walke (my Lord) And leaue you to your
grauer steps. Hermione, How thou lou'st vs, shew in our Brothers
welcome; Let what is deare in Sicily, be cheape:

Next to thy selfe, and my young Rouer, he's Apparant to my heart

Her. If you would seeke vs,

We are yours i'th' Garden: shall's attend you there?   Leo. To your
owne bents dispose you: you'le be found, Be you beneath the Sky: I am
angling now, (Though you perceiue me not how I giue Lyne) Goe too, goe
too.

How she holds vp the Neb? the Byll to him? And armes her with the
boldnesse of a Wife To her allowing Husband. Gone already,

Ynch-thick, knee-deepe; ore head and eares a fork'd one. Goe play (Boy)
play: thy Mother playes, and I Play too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose
issue Will hisse me to my Graue: Contempt and Clamor Will be my Knell.
Goe play (Boy) play, there haue been (Or I am much deceiu'd) Cuckolds
ere now, And many a man there is (euen at this present, Now, while I
speake this) holds his Wife by th' Arme, That little thinkes she ha's
been sluyc'd in's absence, And his Pond fish'd by his next Neighbor (by
Sir Smile, his Neighbor:) nay, there's comfort in't, Whiles other men
haue Gates, and those Gates open'd (As mine) against their will. Should
all despaire That haue reuolted Wiues, the tenth of Mankind Would hang
themselues. Physick for't, there's none: It is a bawdy Planet, that
will strike

Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powrefull: thinke it: From East, West,
North, and South, be it concluded, No Barricado for a Belly. Know't,

It will let in and out the Enemy,

With bag and baggage: many thousand on's

Haue the Disease, and feele't not. How now Boy?   Mam. I am like you
say

Leo. Why, that's some comfort.

What? Camillo there?

Cam. I, my good Lord

Leo. Goe play (Mamillius) thou'rt an honest man: Camillo, this great
Sir will yet stay longer

Cam. You had much adoe to make his Anchor hold, When you cast out,
it still came home

Leo. Didst note it?

Cam. He would not stay at your Petitions, made His Businesse more
materiall

Leo. Didst perceiue it?

They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding: Sicilia is a
so-forth: 'tis farre gone,

When I shall gust it last. How cam't (Camillo) That he did stay?

Cam. At the good Queenes entreatie

Leo. At the Queenes be't: Good should be pertinent, But so it is, it
is not. Was this taken

By any vnderstanding Pate but thine?

For thy Conceit is soaking, will draw in

More then the common Blocks. Not noted, is't, But of the finer Natures?
by some Seueralls Of Head-peece extraordinarie? Lower Messes Perchance
are to this Businesse purblind? say

Cam. Businesse, my Lord? I thinke most vnderstand Bohemia stayes
here longer

Leo. Ha?

Cam. Stayes here longer

Leo. I, but why?

Cam. To satisfie your Highnesse, and the Entreaties Of our most
gracious Mistresse

Leo. Satisfie?

Th' entreaties of your Mistresse? Satisfie? Let that suffice. I haue
trusted thee (Camillo) With all the neerest things to my heart, as well
My Chamber-Councels, wherein (Priest-like) thou Hast cleans'd my
Bosome: I, from thee departed Thy Penitent reform'd: but we haue been

Deceiu'd in thy Integritie, deceiu'd

In that which seemes so

Cam. Be it forbid (my Lord.)

Leo. To bide vpon't: thou art not honest: or If thou inclin'st that
way, thou art a Coward, Which hoxes honestie behind, restrayning

From Course requir'd: or else thou must be counted A Seruant, grafted
in my serious Trust,

And therein negligent: or else a Foole,

That seest a Game play'd home, the rich Stake drawne, And tak'st it all
for ieast

Cam. My gracious Lord,

I may be negligent, foolish, and fearefull, In euery one of these, no
man is free,

But that his negligence, his folly, feare, Among the infinite doings of
the World,

Sometime puts forth in your affaires (my Lord.)

If euer I were wilfull-negligent,

It was my folly: if industriously

I play'd the Foole, it was my negligence, Not weighing well the end: if
euer fearefull To doe a thing, where I the issue doubted, Whereof the
execution did cry out

Against the non-performance, 'twas a feare Which oft infects the
wisest: these (my Lord) Are such allow'd Infirmities, that honestie Is
neuer free of. But beseech your Grace

Be plainer with me, let me know my Trespas By it's owne visage; if I
then deny it,

'Tis none of mine

Leo. Ha' not you seene Camillo?

(But that's past doubt: you haue, or your eye-glasse Is thicker then a
Cuckolds Horne) or heard? (For to a Vision so apparant, Rumor

Cannot be mute) or thought? (for Cogitation Resides not in that man,
that do's not thinke) My Wife is slipperie? If thou wilt confesse, Or
else be impudently negatiue,

To haue nor Eyes, nor Eares, nor Thought, then say My Wife's a
Holy-Horse, deserues a Name

As ranke as any Flax-Wench, that puts to

Before her troth-plight: say't, and iustify't

Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to heare My Soueraigne Mistresse
clouded so, without My present vengeance taken: 'shrew my heart, You
neuer spoke what did become you lesse Then this; which to reiterate,
were sin

As deepe as that, though true

Leo. Is whispering nothing?

Is leaning Cheeke to Cheeke? is meating Noses? Kissing with in-side
Lip? stopping the Cariere Of Laughter, with a sigh? (a Note infallible
Of breaking Honestie) horsing foot on foot? Skulking in corners?
wishing Clocks more swift? Houres, Minutes? Noone, Mid-night? and all
Eyes Blind with the Pin and Web, but theirs; theirs onely, That would
vnseene be wicked? Is this nothing? Why then the World, and all that's
in't, is nothing, The couering Skie is nothing, Bohemia nothing, My
Wife is nothing, nor Nothing haue these Nothings, If this be nothing

Cam. Good my Lord, be cur'd

Of this diseas'd Opinion, and betimes,

For 'tis most dangerous

Leo. Say it be, 'tis true

Cam. No, no, my Lord

Leo. It is: you lye, you lye:

I say thou lyest Camillo, and I hate thee, Pronounce thee a grosse
Lowt, a mindlesse Slaue, Or else a houering Temporizer, that

Canst with thine eyes at once see good and euill, Inclining to them
both: were my Wiues Liuer Infected (as her life) she would not liue The
running of one Glasse

Cam. Who do's infect her?

Leo. Why he that weares her like her Medull, hanging About his neck
(Bohemia) who, if I

Had Seruants true about me, that bare eyes To see alike mine Honor, as
their Profits, (Their owne particular Thrifts) they would doe that
Which should vndoe more doing: I, and thou His Cup-bearer, whom I from
meaner forme

Haue Bench'd, and rear'd to Worship, who may'st see Plainely, as Heauen
sees Earth, and Earth sees Heauen, How I am gall'd, might'st be-spice a
Cup, To giue mine Enemy a lasting Winke:

Which Draught to me, were cordiall

Cam. Sir (my Lord)

I could doe this, and that with no rash Potion, But with a lingring
Dram, that should not worke Maliciously, like Poyson: But I cannot

Beleeue this Crack to be in my dread Mistresse (So soueraignely being
Honorable.)

I haue lou'd thee,

Leo. Make that thy question, and goe rot: Do'st thinke I am so muddy,
so vnsetled,

To appoint my selfe in this vexation?

Sully the puritie and whitenesse of my Sheetes (Which to preserue, is
Sleepe; which being spotted, Is Goades, Thornes, Nettles, Tayles of
Waspes) Giue scandall to the blood o'th' Prince, my Sonne, (Who I doe
thinke is mine, and loue as mine) Without ripe mouing to't? Would I doe
this? Could man so blench?

Cam. I must beleeue you (Sir)

I doe, and will fetch off Bohemia for't:

Prouided, that when hee's remou'd, your Highnesse Will take againe your
Queene, as yours at first, Euen for your Sonnes sake, and thereby for
sealing The Iniurie of Tongues, in Courts and Kingdomes Knowne, and
ally'd to yours

Leo. Thou do'st aduise me,

Euen so as I mine owne course haue set downe: Ile giue no blemish to
her Honor, none

Cam. My Lord,

Goe then; and with a countenance as cleare As Friendship weares at
Feasts, keepe with Bohemia, And with your Queene: I am his Cup-bearer,
If from me he haue wholesome Beueridge,

Account me not your Seruant

Leo. This is all:

Do't, and thou hast the one halfe of my heart; Do't not, thou splitt'st
thine owne

Cam. Ile do't, my Lord

Leo. I wil seeme friendly, as thou hast aduis'd me.

Exit

Cam. O miserable Lady. But for me,

What case stand I in? I must be the poysoner Of good Polixenes, and my
ground to do't, Is the obedience to a Master; one,

Who in Rebellion with himselfe, will haue All that are his, so too. To
doe this deed, Promotion followes: If I could find example Of
thousand's that had struck anoynted Kings, And flourish'd after, Il'd
not do't: But since Nor Brasse, nor Stone, nor Parchment beares not
one, Let Villanie it selfe forswear't. I must

Forsake the Court: to do't, or no, is certaine To me a breake-neck.
Happy Starre raigne now, Here comes Bohemia.

Enter Polixenes.

Pol. This is strange: Me thinkes

My fauor here begins to warpe. Not speake? Good day Camillo

Cam. Hayle most Royall Sir

Pol. What is the Newes i'th' Court?

Cam. None rare (my Lord.)

Pol. The King hath on him such a countenance, As he had lost some
Prouince, and a Region Lou'd, as he loues himselfe: euen now I met him
With customarie complement, when hee

Wafting his eyes to th' contrary, and falling A Lippe of much contempt,
speedes from me, and So leaues me, to consider what is breeding, That
changes thus his Manners

Cam. I dare not know (my Lord.)

Pol. How, dare not? doe not? doe you know, and dare not? Be
intelligent to me, 'tis thereabouts:

For to your selfe, what you doe know, you must, And cannot say, you
dare not. Good Camillo, Your chang'd complexions are to me a Mirror,
Which shewes me mine chang'd too: for I must be A partie in this
alteration, finding

My selfe thus alter'd with't

Cam. There is a sicknesse

Which puts some of vs in distemper, but

I cannot name the Disease, and it is caught Of you, that yet are well

Pol. How caught of me?

Make me not sighted like the Basilisque.

I haue look'd on thousands, who haue sped the better By my regard, but
kill'd none so: Camillo, As you are certainely a Gentleman, thereto
Clerke-like experienc'd, which no lesse adornes Our Gentry, then our
Parents Noble Names, In whose successe we are gentle: I beseech you, If
you know ought which do's behoue my knowledge, Thereof to be inform'd,
imprison't not

In ignorant concealement

Cam. I may not answere

Pol. A Sicknesse caught of me, and yet I well? I must be answer'd.
Do'st thou heare Camillo, I coniure thee, by all the parts of man,

Which Honor do's acknowledge, whereof the least Is not this Suit of
mine, that thou declare What incidencie thou do'st ghesse of harme Is
creeping toward me; how farre off, how neere, Which way to be
preuented, if to be:

If not, how best to beare it

Cam. Sir, I will tell you,

Since I am charg'd in Honor, and by him

That I thinke Honorable: therefore marke my counsaile, Which must be
eu'n as swiftly followed, as I meane to vtter it; or both your selfe,
and me, Cry lost, and so good night

Pol. On, good Camillo

Cam. I am appointed him to murther you

Pol. By whom, Camillo?

Cam. By the King

Pol. For what?

Cam. He thinkes, nay with all confidence he sweares, As he had
seen't, or beene an Instrument

To vice you to't, that you haue toucht his Queene Forbiddenly

Pol. Oh then, my best blood turne

To an infected Gelly, and my Name

Be yoak'd with his, that did betray the Best: Turne then my freshest
Reputation to

A sauour, that may strike the dullest Nosthrill Where I arriue, and my
approch be shun'd, Nay hated too, worse then the great'st Infection
That ere was heard, or read

Cam. Sweare his thought ouer

By each particular Starre in Heauen, and

By all their Influences; you may as well

Forbid the Sea for to obey the Moone,

As (or by Oath) remoue, or (Counsaile) shake The Fabrick of his Folly,
whose foundation Is pyl'd vpon his Faith, and will continue The
standing of his Body

Pol. How should this grow?

Cam. I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer to Auoid what's growne,
then question how 'tis borne. If therefore you dare trust my honestie,

That lyes enclosed in this Trunke, which you Shall beare along impawnd,
away to Night, Your Followers I will whisper to the Businesse, And will
by twoes, and threes, at seuerall Posternes, Cleare them o'th' Citie:
For my selfe, Ile put My fortunes to your seruice (which are here By
this discouerie lost.) Be not vncertaine, For by the honor of my
Parents, I

Haue vttred Truth: which if you seeke to proue, I dare not stand by;
nor shall you be safer, Then one condemnd by the Kings owne mouth:
Thereon his Execution sworne

Pol. I doe beleeue thee:

I saw his heart in's face. Giue me thy hand, Be Pilot to me, and thy
places shall

Still neighbour mine. My Ships are ready, and My people did expect my
hence departure

Two dayes agoe. This Iealousie

Is for a precious Creature: as shee's rare, Must it be great; and, as
his Person's mightie, Must it be violent: and, as he do's conceiue, He
is dishonor'd by a man, which euer

Profess'd to him: why his Reuenges must

In that be made more bitter. Feare ore-shades me: Good Expedition be my
friend, and comfort The gracious Queene, part of his Theame; but
nothing Of his ill-ta'ne suspition. Come Camillo, I will respect thee
as a Father, if

Thou bear'st my life off, hence: Let vs auoid

Cam. It is in mine authoritie to command The Keyes of all the
Posternes: Please your Highnesse To take the vrgent houre. Come Sir,
away.

Exeunt.



Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Hermione, Mamillius, Ladies: Leontes, Antigonus, Lords.

Her. Take the Boy to you: he so troubles me, 'Tis past enduring

Lady. Come (my gracious Lord)

Shall I be your play-fellow?

Mam. No, Ile none of you

Lady. Why (my sweet Lord?)

Mam. You'le kisse me hard, and speake to me, as if I were a Baby
still. I loue you better

2.Lady. And why so (my Lord?)

Mam. Not for because

Your Browes are blacker (yet black-browes they say Become some Women
best, so that there be not Too much haire there, but in a Cemicircle,
Or a halfe-Moone, made with a Pen.)

2.Lady. Who taught 'this?

Mam. I learn'd it out of Womens faces: pray now, What colour are your
eye-browes?

Lady. Blew (my Lord.)

Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I haue seene a Ladies Nose That ha's beene
blew, but not her eye-browes

Lady. Harke ye,

The Queene (your Mother) rounds apace: we shall Present our seruices to
a fine new Prince One of these dayes, and then youl'd wanton with vs,
If we would haue you

2.Lady. She is spread of late

Into a goodly Bulke (good time encounter her.)

Her. What wisdome stirs amongst you? Come Sir, now I am for you
againe: 'Pray you sit by vs, And tell's a Tale

Mam. Merry, or sad, shal't be?

Her. As merry as you will

Mam. A sad Tale's best for Winter:

I haue one of Sprights, and Goblins

Her. Let's haue that (good Sir.)

Come-on, sit downe, come-on, and doe your best, To fright me with your
Sprights: you're powrefull at it

Mam. There was a man

Her. Nay, come sit downe: then on

Mam. Dwelt by a Church-yard: I will tell it softly, Yond Crickets
shall not heare it

Her. Come on then, and giu't me in mine eare

Leon. Was hee met there? his Traine? Camillo with him?

Lord. Behind the tuft of Pines I met them, neuer Saw I men scowre so
on their way: I eyed them Euen to their Ships

Leo. How blest am I

In my iust Censure? in my true Opinion?

Alack, for lesser knowledge, how accurs'd, In being so blest? There may
be in the Cup A Spider steep'd, and one may drinke; depart, And yet
partake no venome: (for his knowledge Is not infected) but if one
present

Th' abhor'd Ingredient to his eye, make knowne How he hath drunke, he
cracks his gorge, his sides With violent Hefts: I haue drunke, and
seene the Spider. Camillo was his helpe in this, his Pandar: There is a
Plot against my Life, my Crowne; All's true that is mistrusted: that
false Villaine, Whom I employ'd, was pre-employ'd by him: He ha's
discouer'd my Designe, and I

Remaine a pinch'd Thing; yea, a very Trick For them to play at will:
how came the Posternes So easily open?

Lord. By his great authority,

Which often hath no lesse preuail'd, then so, On your command

Leo. I know't too well.

Giue me the Boy, I am glad you did not nurse him: Though he do's beare
some signes of me, yet you Haue too much blood in him

Her. What is this? Sport?

Leo. Beare the Boy hence, he shall not come about her, Away with him,
and let her sport her selfe With that shee's big-with, for 'tis
Polixenes Ha's made thee swell thus

Her. But Il'd say he had not;

And Ile be sworne you would beleeue my saying, How e're you leane to
th' Nay-ward

Leo. You (my Lords)

Looke on her, marke her well: be but about To say she is a goodly Lady,
and

The iustice of your hearts will thereto adde 'Tis pitty shee's not
honest: Honorable;

Prayse her but for this her without-dore-Forme, (Which on my faith
deserues high speech) and straight The Shrug, the Hum, or Ha, (these
Petty-brands That Calumnie doth vse; Oh, I am out,

That Mercy do's, for Calumnie will seare

Vertue it selfe) these Shrugs, these Hum's, and Ha's, When you haue
said shee's goodly, come betweene, Ere you can say shee's honest: But
be't knowne (From him that ha's most cause to grieue it should be)
Shee's an Adultresse

Her. Should a Villaine say so,

(The most replenish'd Villaine in the World) He were as much more
Villaine: you (my Lord) Doe but mistake

Leo. You haue mistooke (my Lady)

Polixenes for Leontes: O thou Thing,

(Which Ile not call a Creature of thy place, Least Barbarisme (making
me the precedent) Should a like Language vse to all degrees, And
mannerly distinguishment leaue out,

Betwixt the Prince and Begger:) I haue said Shee's an Adultresse, I
haue said with whom: More; shee's a Traytor, and Camillo is

A Federarie with her, and one that knowes What she should shame to know
her selfe,

But with her most vild Principall: that shee's A Bed-swaruer, euen as
bad as those

That Vulgars giue bold'st Titles; I, and priuy To this their late
escape

Her. No (by my life)

Priuy to none of this: how will this grieue you, When you shall come to
clearer knowledge, that You thus haue publish'd me? Gentle my Lord, You
scarce can right me throughly, then, to say You did mistake

Leo. No: if I mistake

In those Foundations which I build vpon,

The Centre is not bigge enough to beare

A Schoole-Boyes Top. Away with her, to Prison: He who shall speake for
her, is a farre-off guiltie, But that he speakes

Her. There's some ill Planet raignes:

I must be patient, till the Heauens looke With an aspect more
fauorable. Good my Lords, I am not prone to weeping (as our Sex

Commonly are) the want of which vaine dew Perchance shall dry your
pitties: but I haue That honorable Griefe lodg'd here, which burnes
Worse then Teares drowne: 'beseech you all (my Lords) With thoughts so
qualified, as your Charities Shall best instruct you, measure me; and
so The Kings will be perform'd

Leo. Shall I be heard?

Her. Who is't that goes with me? 'beseech your Highnes My Women may
be with me, for you see

My plight requires it. Doe not weepe (good Fooles) There is no cause:
When you shall know your Mistris Ha's deseru'd Prison, then abound in
Teares, As I come out; this Action I now goe on,

Is for my better grace. Adieu (my Lord)

I neuer wish'd to see you sorry, now

I trust I shall: my Women come, you haue leaue

Leo. Goe, doe our bidding: hence

Lord. Beseech your Highnesse call the Queene againe

Antig. Be certaine what you do (Sir) least your Iustice Proue
violence, in the which three great ones suffer, Your Selfe, your
Queene, your Sonne

Lord. For her (my Lord)

I dare my life lay downe, and will do't (Sir) Please you t' accept it,
that the Queene is spotlesse I'th' eyes of Heauen, and to you (I meane
In this, which you accuse her.)

Antig. If it proue

Shee's otherwise, Ile keepe my Stables where I lodge my Wife, Ile goe
in couples with her: Then when I feele, and see her, no farther trust
her: For euery ynch of Woman in the World,

I, euery dram of Womans flesh is false,

If she be

Leo. Hold your peaces

Lord. Good my Lord

Antig. It is for you we speake, not for our selues: You are abus'd,
and by some putter on,

That will be damn'd for't: would I knew the Villaine, I would
Land-damne him: be she honor-flaw'd, I haue three daughters: the eldest
is eleuen; The second, and the third, nine: and some fiue: If this
proue true, they'l pay for't. By mine Honor Ile gell'd em all:
fourteene they shall not see To bring false generations: they are
co-heyres, And I had rather glib my selfe, then they Should not produce
faire issue

Leo. Cease, no more:

You smell this businesse with a sence as cold As is a dead-mans nose:
but I do see't, and feel't, As you feele doing thus: and see withall

The Instruments that feele

Antig. If it be so,

We neede no graue to burie honesty,

There's not a graine of it, the face to sweeten Of the whole
dungy-earth

Leo. What? lacke I credit?

Lord. I had rather you did lacke then I (my Lord) Vpon this ground:
and more it would content me To haue her Honor true, then your
suspition Be blam'd for't how you might

Leo. Why what neede we

Commune with you of this? but rather follow Our forcefull instigation?
Our prerogatiue Cals not your Counsailes, but our naturall goodnesse
Imparts this: which, if you, or stupified, Or seeming so, in skill,
cannot, or will not Rellish a truth, like vs: informe your selues, We
neede no more of your aduice: the matter, The losse, the gaine, the
ord'ring on't,

Is all properly ours

Antig. And I wish (my Liege)

You had onely in your silent iudgement tride it, Without more ouerture

Leo. How could that be?

Either thou art most ignorant by age,

Or thou wer't borne a foole: Camillo's flight Added to their
Familiarity

(Which was as grosse, as euer touch'd coniecture, That lack'd sight
onely, nought for approbation But onely seeing, all other circumstances
Made vp to'th deed) doth push-on this proceeding. Yet, for a greater
confirmation

(For in an Acte of this importance, 'twere Most pitteous to be wilde) I
haue dispatch'd in post, To sacred Delphos, to Appollo's Temple,

Cleomines and Dion, whom you know

Of stuff'd-sufficiency: Now, from the Oracle They will bring all, whose
spirituall counsaile had Shall stop, or spurre me. Haue I done well?
Lord. Well done (my Lord.)

Leo. Though I am satisfide, and neede no more Then what I know, yet
shall the Oracle

Giue rest to th' mindes of others; such as he Whose ignorant
credulitie, will not

Come vp to th' truth. So haue we thought it good From our free person,
she should be confinde, Least that the treachery of the two, fled
hence, Be left her to performe. Come follow vs,

We are to speake in publique: for this businesse Will raise vs all

Antig. To laughter, as I take it,

If the good truth, were knowne.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Paulina, a Gentleman, Gaoler, Emilia.

Paul. The Keeper of the prison, call to him: Let him haue knowledge
who I am. Good Lady, No Court in Europe is too good for thee,

What dost thou then in prison? Now good Sir, You know me, do you not?

Gao. For a worthy Lady,

And one, who much I honour

Pau. Pray you then,

Conduct me to the Queene

Gao. I may not (Madam)

To the contrary I haue expresse commandment

Pau. Here's ado, to locke vp honesty & honour from Th' accesse of
gentle visitors. Is't lawfull pray you To see her Women? Any of them?
Emilia?

Gao. So please you (Madam)

To put a-part these your attendants, I

Shall bring Emilia forth

Pau. I pray now call her:

With-draw your selues

Gao. And Madam,

I must be present at your Conference

Pau. Well: be't so: prethee.

Heere's such adoe, to make no staine, a staine, As passes colouring.
Deare Gentlewoman,

How fares our gracious Lady?

Emil. As well as one so great, and so forlorne May hold together: On
her frights, and greefes (Which neuer tender Lady hath borne greater)
She is, something before her time, deliuer'd

Pau. A boy?

Emil. A daughter, and a goodly babe,

Lusty, and like to liue: the Queene receiues Much comfort in't: Sayes,
my poore prisoner, I am innocent as you,

Pau. I dare be sworne:

These dangerous, vnsafe Lunes i'th' King, beshrew them: He must be told
on't, and he shall: the office Becomes a woman best. Ile take't vpon
me, If I proue hony-mouth'd, let my tongue blister. And neuer to my
red-look'd Anger bee

The Trumpet any more: pray you (Emilia)

Commend my best obedience to the Queene,

If she dares trust me with her little babe, I'le shew't the King, and
vndertake to bee Her Aduocate to th' lowd'st. We do not know How he may
soften at the sight o'th' Childe: The silence often of pure innocence

Perswades, when speaking failes

Emil. Most worthy Madam,

Your honor, and your goodnesse is so euident, That your free
vndertaking cannot misse

A thriuing yssue: there is no Lady liuing So meete for this great
errand; please your Ladiship To visit the next roome, Ile presently

Acquaint the Queene of your most noble offer, Who, but to day hammered
of this designe, But durst not tempt a minister of honour

Least she should be deny'd

Paul. Tell her (Emilia)

Ile vse that tongue I haue: If wit flow from't As boldnesse from my
bosome, le't not be doubted I shall do good,

Emil. Now be you blest for it.

Ile to the Queene: please you come something neerer

Gao. Madam, if't please the Queene to send the babe, I know not what
I shall incurre, to passe it, Hauing no warrant

Pau. You neede not feare it (sir)

This Childe was prisoner to the wombe, and is By Law and processe of
great Nature, thence Free'd, and enfranchis'd, not a partie to The
anger of the King, nor guilty of

(If any be) the trespasse of the Queene

Gao. I do beleeue it

Paul. Do not you feare: vpon mine honor, I Will stand betwixt you,
and danger.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Leontes, Seruants, Paulina, Antigonus, and Lords.

Leo. Nor night, nor day, no rest: It is but weaknesse To beare the
matter thus: meere weaknesse, if The cause were not in being: part o'th
cause, She, th' Adultresse: for the harlot-King

Is quite beyond mine Arme, out of the blanke And leuell of my braine:
plot-proofe: but shee, I can hooke to me: say that she were gone, Giuen
to the fire, a moity of my rest

Might come to me againe. Whose there?

Ser. My Lord

Leo. How do's the boy?

Ser. He tooke good rest to night: 'tis hop'd His sicknesse is
discharg'd

Leo. To see his Noblenesse,

Conceyuing the dishonour of his Mother.

He straight declin'd, droop'd, tooke it deeply, Fasten'd, and fix'd the
shame on't in himselfe: Threw-off his Spirit, his Appetite, his Sleepe,
And down-right languish'd. Leaue me solely: goe, See how he fares: Fie,
fie, no thought of him, The very thought of my Reuenges that way

Recoyle vpon me: in himselfe too mightie, And in his parties, his
Alliance; Let him be, Vntill a time may serue. For present vengeance
Take it on her: Camillo, and Polixenes

Laugh at me: make their pastime at my sorrow: They should not laugh, if
I could reach them, nor Shall she, within my powre.

Enter Paulina.

Lord. You must not enter

Paul. Nay rather (good my Lords) be second to me: Feare you his
tyrannous passion more (alas) Then the Queenes life? A gracious
innocent soule, More free, then he is iealous

Antig. That's enough

Ser. Madam; he hath not slept to night, commanded None should come
at him

Pau. Not so hot (good Sir)

I come to bring him sleepe. 'Tis such as you That creepe like shadowes
by him, and do sighe At each his needlesse heauings: such as you
Nourish the cause of his awaking. I

Do come with words, as medicinall, as true; (Honest, as either;) to
purge him of that humor, That presses him from sleepe

Leo. Who noyse there, hoe?

Pau. No noyse (my Lord) but needfull conference, About some Gossips
for your Highnesse

Leo. How?

Away with that audacious Lady. Antigonus, I charg'd thee that she
should not come about me, I knew she would

Ant. I told her so (my Lord)

On your displeasures perill, and on mine, She should not visit you

Leo. What? canst not rule her?

Paul. From all dishonestie he can: in this (Vnlesse he take the
course that you haue done) Commit me, for committing honor, trust it,
He shall not rule me:

Ant. La-you now, you heare,

When she will take the raine, I let her run, But shee'l not stumble

Paul. Good my Liege, I come:

And I beseech you heare me, who professes My selfe your loyall Seruant,
your Physitian, Your most obedient Counsailor: yet that dares Lesse
appeare so, in comforting your Euilles, Then such as most seeme yours.
I say, I come From your good Queene

Leo. Good Queene?

Paul. Good Queene (my Lord) good Queene, I say good Queene,

And would by combate, make her good so, were I A man, the worst about
you

Leo. Force her hence

Pau. Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes First hand me: on
mine owne accord, Ile off, But first, Ile do my errand. The good Queene
(For she is good) hath brought you forth a daughter, Heere 'tis.
Commends it to your blessing

Leo. Out:

A mankinde Witch? Hence with her, out o' dore: A most intelligencing
bawd

Paul. Not so:

I am as ignorant in that, as you,

In so entit'ling me: and no lesse honest

Then you are mad: which is enough, Ile warrant (As this world goes) to
passe for honest:   Leo. Traitors;

Will you not push her out? Giue her the Bastard, Thou dotard, thou art
woman-tyr'd: vnroosted By thy dame Partlet heere. Take vp the Bastard,
Take't vp, I say: giue't to thy Croane

Paul. For euer

Vnvenerable be thy hands, if thou

Tak'st vp the Princesse, by that forced basenesse Which he ha's put
vpon't

Leo. He dreads his Wife

Paul. So I would you did: then 'twere past all doubt Youl'd call
your children, yours

Leo. A nest of Traitors

Ant. I am none, by this good light

Pau. Nor I: nor any

But one that's heere: and that's himselfe: for he, The sacred Honor of
himselfe, his Queenes, His hopefull Sonnes, his Babes, betrayes to
Slander, Whose sting is sharper then the Swords; and will not (For as
the case now stands, it is a Curse He cannot be compell'd too't) once
remoue The Root of his Opinion, which is rotten, As euer Oake, or Stone
was sound

Leo. A Callat

Of boundlesse tongue, who late hath beat her Husband, And now bayts me:
This Brat is none of mine, It is the Issue of Polixenes.

Hence with it, and together with the Dam, Commit them to the fire

Paul. It is yours:

And might we lay th' old Prouerb to your charge, So like you, 'tis the
worse. Behold (my Lords) Although the Print be little, the whole Matter
And Coppy of the Father: (Eye, Nose, Lippe, The trick of's Frowne, his
Fore-head, nay, the Valley, The pretty dimples of his Chin, and Cheeke;
his Smiles: The very Mold, and frame of Hand, Nayle, Finger.)

And thou good Goddesse Nature, which hast made it So like to him that
got it, if thou hast

The ordering of the Mind too, 'mongst all Colours No Yellow in't, least
she suspect, as he do's, Her Children, not her Husbands

Leo. A grosse Hagge:

And Lozell, thou art worthy to be hang'd, That wilt not stay her
Tongue

Antig. Hang all the Husbands

That cannot doe that Feat, you'le leaue your selfe Hardly one Subiect

Leo. Once more take her hence

Paul. A most vnworthy, and vnnaturall Lord Can doe no more

Leo. Ile ha' thee burnt

Paul. I care not:

It is an Heretique that makes the fire,

Not she which burnes in't. Ile not call you Tyrant: But this most
cruell vsage of your Queene (Not able to produce more accusation

Then your owne weake-hindg'd Fancy) something sauors Of Tyrannie, and
will ignoble make you,

Yea, scandalous to the World

Leo. On your Allegeance,

Out of the Chamber with her. Were I a Tyrant, Where were her life? she
durst not call me so, If she did know me one. Away with her

Paul. I pray you doe not push me, Ile be gone. Looke to your Babe
(my Lord) 'tis yours: Ioue send her A better guiding Spirit. What needs
these hands? You that are thus so tender o're his Follyes, Will neuer
doe him good, not one of you.

So, so: Farewell, we are gone.

Enter.

Leo. Thou (Traytor) hast set on thy Wife to this. My Child? away
with't? euen thou, that hast A heart so tender o're it, take it hence,
And see it instantly consum'd with fire.

Euen thou, and none but thou. Take it vp straight: Within this houre
bring me word 'tis done, (And by good testimonie) or Ile seize thy
life, With what thou else call'st thine: if thou refuse, And wilt
encounter with my Wrath, say so; The Bastard-braynes with these my
proper hands Shall I dash out. Goe, take it to the fire, For thou
sett'st on thy Wife

Antig. I did not, Sir:

These Lords, my Noble Fellowes, if they please, Can cleare me in't

Lords. We can: my Royall Liege,

He is not guiltie of her comming hither

Leo. You're lyers all

Lord. Beseech your Highnesse, giue vs better credit: We haue alwayes
truly seru'd you, and beseech' So to esteeme of vs: and on our knees we
begge, (As recompence of our deare seruices

Past, and to come) that you doe change this purpose, Which being so
horrible, so bloody, must

Lead on to some foule Issue. We all kneele

Leo. I am a Feather for each Wind that blows: Shall I liue on, to
see this Bastard kneele, And call me Father? better burne it now,

Then curse it then. But be it: let it liue. It shall not neyther. You
Sir, come you hither: You that haue beene so tenderly officious With
Lady Margerie, your Mid-wife there,

To saue this Bastards life; for 'tis a Bastard, So sure as this Beard's
gray. What will you aduenture, To saue this Brats life?

Antig. Any thing (my Lord)

That my abilitie may vndergoe,

And Noblenesse impose: at least thus much; Ile pawne the little blood
which I haue left, To saue the Innocent: any thing possible

Leo. It shall be possible: Sweare by this Sword Thou wilt performe
my bidding

Antig. I will (my Lord.)

Leo. Marke, and performe it: seest thou? for the faile Of any point
in't, shall not onely be

Death to thy selfe, but to thy lewd-tongu'd Wife, (Whom for this time
we pardon) We enioyne thee, As thou art Liege-man to vs, that thou
carry This female Bastard hence, and that thou beare it To some remote
and desart place, quite out Of our Dominions; and that there thou leaue
it (Without more mercy) to it owne protection, And fauour of the
Climate: as by strange fortune It came to vs, I doe in Iustice charge
thee, On thy Soules perill, and thy Bodyes torture, That thou commend
it strangely to some place, Where Chance may nurse, or end it: take it
vp

Antig. I sweare to doe this: though a present death Had beene more
mercifull. Come on (poore Babe) Some powerfull Spirit instruct the
Kytes and Rauens To be thy Nurses. Wolues and Beares, they say,
(Casting their sauagenesse aside) haue done Like offices of Pitty. Sir,
be prosperous In more then this deed do's require; and Blessing Against
this Crueltie, fight on thy side

(Poore Thing, condemn'd to losse.)

Enter.

Leo. No: Ile not reare

Anothers Issue.

Enter a Seruant.

Seru. Please' your Highnesse, Posts

From those you sent to th' Oracle, are come An houre since: Cleomines
and Dion,

Being well arriu'd from Delphos, are both landed, Hasting to th' Court

Lord. So please you (Sir) their speed

Hath beene beyond accompt

Leo. Twentie three dayes

They haue beene absent: 'tis good speed: fore-tells The great Apollo
suddenly will haue

The truth of this appeare: Prepare you Lords, Summon a Session, that we
may arraigne

Our most disloyall Lady: for as she hath

Been publikely accus'd, so shall she haue A iust and open Triall. While
she liues,

My heart will be a burthen to me. Leaue me, And thinke vpon my
bidding.

Exeunt.



Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Cleomines and Dion.

Cleo. The Clymat's delicate, the Ayre most sweet, Fertile the Isle,
the Temple much surpassing The common prayse it beares

Dion. I shall report,

For most it caught me, the Celestiall Habits, (Me thinkes I so should
terme them) and the reuerence Of the graue Wearers. O, the Sacrifice,

How ceremonious, solemne, and vn-earthly

It was i'th' Offring?

Cleo. But of all, the burst

And the eare-deaff'ning Voyce o'th' Oracle, Kin to Ioues Thunder, so
surpriz'd my Sence, That I was nothing

Dio. If th' euent o'th' Iourney

Proue as successefull to the Queene (O be't so) As it hath beene to vs,
rare, pleasant, speedie, The time is worth the vse on't

Cleo. Great Apollo

Turne all to th' best: these Proclamations, So forcing faults vpon
Hermione,

I little like

Dio. The violent carriage of it

Will cleare, or end the Businesse, when the Oracle (Thus by Apollo's
great Diuine seal'd vp) Shall the Contents discouer: something rare
Euen then will rush to knowledge. Goe: fresh Horses, And gracious be
the issue.

Exeunt.



Scoena Secunda.

Enter Leontes, Lords, Officers: Hermione (as to her Triall) Ladies:
Cleomines, Dion.

Leo. This Sessions (to our great griefe we pronounce) Euen pushes
'gainst our heart. The partie try'd, The Daughter of a King, our Wife,
and one Of vs too much belou'd. Let vs be clear'd Of being tyrannous,
since we so openly

Proceed in Iustice, which shall haue due course, Euen to the Guilt, or
the Purgation:

Produce the Prisoner

Officer. It is his Highnesse pleasure, that the Queene Appeare in
person, here in Court. Silence

Leo. Reade the Indictment

Officer. Hermione, Queene to the worthy Leontes, King of Sicilia,
thou art here accused and arraigned of High Treason, in committing
Adultery with Polixenes King of Bohemia, and conspiring with Camillo to
take away the Life of our Soueraigne

Lord the King, thy Royall Husband: the pretence whereof being by
circumstances partly layd open, thou (Hermione) contrary to the Faith
and Allegeance of a true Subiect, didst counsaile and ayde them, for
their better safetie, to flye away by Night

Her. Since what I am to say, must be but that Which contradicts my
Accusation, and

The testimonie on my part, no other

But what comes from my selfe, it shall scarce boot me To say, Not
guiltie: mine Integritie

Being counted Falsehood, shall (as I expresse it) Be so receiu'd. But
thus, if Powres Diuine Behold our humane Actions (as they doe)

I doubt not then, but Innocence shall make False Accusation blush, and
Tyrannie

Tremble at Patience. You (my Lord) best know (Whom least will seeme to
doe so) my past life Hath beene as continent, as chaste, as true, As I
am now vnhappy; which is more

Then Historie can patterne, though deuis'd, And play'd, to take
Spectators. For behold me, A Fellow of the Royall Bed, which owe

A Moitie of the Throne: a great Kings Daughter, The Mother to a
hopefull Prince, here standing To prate and talke for Life, and Honor,
fore Who please to come, and heare. For Life, I prize it As I weigh
Griefe (which I would spare:) For Honor, 'Tis a deriuatiue from me to
mine,

And onely that I stand for. I appeale

To your owne Conscience (Sir) before Polixenes Came to your Court, how
I was in your grace, How merited to be so: Since he came,

With what encounter so vncurrant, I

Haue strayn'd t' appeare thus; if one iot beyond The bound of Honor, or
in act, or will

That way enclining, hardned be the hearts Of all that heare me, and my
neer'st of Kin Cry fie vpon my Graue

Leo. I ne're heard yet,

That any of these bolder Vices wanted

Lesse Impudence to gaine-say what they did, Then to performe it first

Her. That's true enough,

Though 'tis a saying (Sir) not due to me

Leo. You will not owne it

Her. More then Mistresse of,

Which comes to me in name of Fault, I must not At all acknowledge. For
Polixenes

(With whom I am accus'd) I doe confesse

I lou'd him, as in Honor he requir'd:

With such a kind of Loue, as might become A Lady like me; with a Loue,
euen such,

So, and no other, as your selfe commanded: Which, not to haue done, I
thinke had been in me Both Disobedience, and Ingratitude

To you, and toward your Friend, whose Loue had spoke, Euen since it
could speake, from an Infant, freely, That it was yours. Now for
Conspiracie,

I know not how it tastes, though it be dish'd For me to try how: All I
know of it,

Is, that Camillo was an honest man;

And why he left your Court, the Gods themselues (Wotting no more then
I) are ignorant

Leo. You knew of his departure, as you know What you haue vnderta'ne
to doe in's absence

Her. Sir,

You speake a Language that I vnderstand not: My Life stands in the
leuell of your Dreames, Which Ile lay downe

Leo. Your Actions are my Dreames.

You had a Bastard by Polixenes,

And I but dream'd it: As you were past all shame, (Those of your Fact
are so) so past all truth; Which to deny, concernes more then auailes:
for as Thy Brat hath been cast out, like to it selfe, No Father owning
it (which is indeed

More criminall in thee, then it) so thou

Shalt feele our Iustice; in whose easiest passage, Looke for no lesse
then death

Her. Sir, spare your Threats:

The Bugge which you would fright me with, I seeke: To me can Life be no
commoditie;

The crowne and comfort of my Life (your Fauor) I doe giue lost, for I
doe feele it gone, But know not how it went. My second Ioy,

And first Fruits of my body, from his presence I am bar'd, like one
infectious. My third comfort (Star'd most vnluckily) is from my breast
(The innocent milke in it most innocent mouth) Hal'd out to murther. My
selfe on euery Post Proclaym'd a Strumpet: With immodest hatred The
Child-bed priuiledge deny'd, which longs To Women of all fashion.
Lastly, hurried

Here, to this place, i'th' open ayre, before I haue got strength of
limit. Now (my Liege) Tell me what blessings I haue here aliue, That I
should feare to die? Therefore proceed: But yet heare this: mistake me
not: no Life, (I prize it not a straw) but for mine Honor, Which I
would free: if I shall be condemn'd Vpon surmizes (all proofes sleeping
else, But what your Iealousies awake) I tell you 'Tis Rigor, and not
Law. Your Honors all, I doe referre me to the Oracle:

Apollo be my Iudge

Lord. This your request

Is altogether iust: therefore bring forth (And in Apollo's Name) his
Oracle

Her. The Emperor of Russia was my Father. Oh that he were aliue, and
here beholding His Daughters Tryall: that he did but see The flatnesse
of my miserie; yet with eyes Of Pitty, not Reuenge

Officer. You here shal sweare vpon this Sword of Iustice, That you
(Cleomines and Dion) haue

Been both at Delphos, and from thence haue brought This seal'd-vp
Oracle, by the Hand deliuer'd Of great Apollo's Priest; and that since
then, You haue not dar'd to breake the holy Seale, Nor read the Secrets
in't

Cleo. Dio. All this we sweare

Leo. Breake vp the Seales, and read

Officer. Hermione is chast, Polixenes blamelesse, Camillo a true
Subiect, Leontes a iealous Tyrant, his innocent Babe truly begotten,
and the King shall liue without an Heire, if that which is lost, be not
found

Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo

Her. Praysed

Leo. Hast thou read truth?

Offic. I (my Lord) euen so as it is here set downe

Leo. There is no truth at all i'th' Oracle: The Sessions shall
proceed: this is meere falsehood

Ser. My Lord the King: the King?

Leo. What is the businesse?

Ser. O Sir, I shall be hated to report it. The Prince your Sonne,
with meere conceit, and feare Of the Queenes speed, is gone

Leo. How? gone?

Ser. Is dead

Leo. Apollo's angry, and the Heauens themselues Doe strike at my
Iniustice. How now there?   Paul. This newes is mortall to the Queene:
Look downe And see what Death is doing

Leo. Take her hence:

Her heart is but o're-charg'd: she will recouer. I haue too much
beleeu'd mine owne suspition: 'Beseech you tenderly apply to her

Some remedies for life. Apollo pardon

My great prophanenesse 'gainst thine Oracle. Ile reconcile me to
Polixenes,

New woe my Queene, recall the good Camillo (Whom I proclaime a man of
Truth, of Mercy:) For being transported by my Iealousies

To bloody thoughts, and to reuenge, I chose Camillo for the minister,
to poyson

My friend Polixenes: which had been done, But that the good mind of
Camillo tardied My swift command: though I with Death, and with Reward,
did threaten and encourage him,

Not doing it, and being done: he (most humane, And fill'd with Honor)
to my Kingly Guest Vnclasp'd my practise, quit his fortunes here (Which
you knew great) and to the hazard

Of all Incertainties, himselfe commended, No richer then his Honor: How
he glisters Through my Rust? and how his Pietie

Do's my deeds make the blacker?

Paul. Woe the while:

O cut my Lace, least my heart (cracking it) Breake too

Lord. What fit is this? good Lady?

Paul. What studied torments (Tyrant) hast for me? What Wheeles?
Racks? Fires? What flaying? boyling? In Leads, or Oyles? What old, or
newer Torture Must I receiue? whose euery word deserues To taste of thy
most worst. Thy Tyranny

(Together working with thy Iealousies,

Fancies too weake for Boyes, too greene and idle For Girles of Nine) O
thinke what they haue done, And then run mad indeed: starke-mad: for
all Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it. That thou betrayed'st
Polixenes, 'twas nothing, (That did but shew thee, of a Foole,
inconstant, And damnable ingratefull:) Nor was't much. Thou would'st
haue poyson'd good Camillo's Honor, To haue him kill a King: poore
Trespasses, More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon The casting
forth to Crowes, thy Baby-daughter, To be or none, or little; though a
Deuill Would haue shed water out of fire, ere don't; Nor is't directly
layd to thee, the death Of the young Prince, whose honorable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heart That could conceiue a
grosse and foolish Sire Blemish'd his gracious Dam: this is not, no,
Layd to thy answere: but the last: O Lords, When I haue said, cry woe:
the Queene, the Queene, The sweet'st, deer'st creature's dead: &
vengeance for't Not drop'd downe yet

Lord. The higher powres forbid

Pau. I say she's dead: Ile swear't. If word, nor oath Preuaile not,
go and see: if you can bring Tincture, or lustre in her lip, her eye

Heate outwardly, or breath within, Ile serue you As I would do the
Gods. But, O thou Tyrant, Do not repent these things, for they are
heauier Then all thy woes can stirre: therefore betake thee To nothing
but dispaire. A thousand knees, Ten thousand yeares together, naked,
fasting, Vpon a barren Mountaine, and still Winter In storme
perpetuall, could not moue the Gods To looke that way thou wer't

Leo. Go on, go on:

Thou canst not speake too much, I haue deseru'd All tongues to talke
their bittrest

Lord. Say no more;

How ere the businesse goes, you haue made fault I'th boldnesse of your
speech

Pau. I am sorry for't;

All faults I make, when I shall come to know them, I do repent: Alas, I
haue shew'd too much The rashnesse of a woman: he is toucht

To th' Noble heart. What's gone, and what's past helpe Should be past
greefe: Do not receiue affliction At my petition; I beseech you,
rather

Let me be punish'd, that haue minded you

Of what you should forget. Now (good my Liege) Sir, Royall Sir, forgiue
a foolish woman: The loue I bore your Queene (Lo, foole againe) Ile
speake of her no more, nor of your Children: Ile not remember you of my
owne Lord,

(Who is lost too:) take your patience to you, And Ile say nothing

Leo. Thou didst speake but well,

When most the truth: which I receyue much better, Then to be pittied of
thee. Prethee bring me To the dead bodies of my Queene, and Sonne, One
graue shall be for both: Vpon them shall The causes of their death
appeare (vnto

Our shame perpetuall) once a day, Ile visit The Chappell where they
lye, and teares shed there Shall be my recreation. So long as Nature
Will beare vp with this exercise, so long I dayly vow to vse it. Come,
and leade me To these sorrowes.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Antigonus, a Marriner, Babe, Sheepeheard, and Clowne.

Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath toucht vpon The Desarts of
Bohemia

Mar. I (my Lord) and feare

We haue Landed in ill time: the skies looke grimly, And threaten
present blusters. In my conscience The heauens with that we haue in
hand, are angry, And frowne vpon's

Ant. Their sacred wil's be done: go get a-boord, Looke to thy barke,
Ile not be long before I call vpon thee

Mar. Make your best haste, and go not

Too-farre i'th Land: 'tis like to be lowd weather, Besides this place
is famous for the Creatures Of prey, that keepe vpon't

Antig. Go thou away,

Ile follow instantly

Mar. I am glad at heart

To be so ridde o'th businesse.

Exit

Ant. Come, poore babe;

I haue heard (but not beleeu'd) the Spirits o'th' dead May walke
againe: if such thing be, thy Mother Appear'd to me last night: for
ne're was dreame So like a waking. To me comes a creature, Sometimes
her head on one side, some another, I neuer saw a vessell of like
sorrow

So fill'd, and so becomming: in pure white Robes Like very sanctity she
did approach

My Cabine where I lay: thrice bow'd before me, And (gasping to begin
some speech) her eyes Became two spouts; the furie spent, anon

Did this breake from her. Good Antigonus, Since Fate (against thy
better disposition) Hath made thy person for the Thrower-out

Of my poore babe, according to thine oath, Places remote enough are in
Bohemia,

There weepe, and leaue it crying: and for the babe Is counted lost for
euer, Perdita

I prethee call't: For this vngentle businesse Put on thee, by my Lord,
thou ne're shalt see Thy Wife Paulina more: and so, with shriekes She
melted into Ayre. Affrighted much,

I did in time collect my selfe, and thought This was so, and no
slumber: Dreames, are toyes, Yet for this once, yea superstitiously,

I will be squar'd by this. I do beleeue

Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that

Apollo would (this being indeede the issue Of King Polixenes) it should
heere be laide (Either for life, or death) vpon the earth Of it's right
Father. Blossome, speed thee well, There lye, and there thy charracter:
there these, Which may if Fortune please, both breed thee (pretty) And
still rest thine. The storme beginnes, poore wretch, That for thy
mothers fault, art thus expos'd To losse, and what may follow. Weepe I
cannot, But my heart bleedes: and most accurst am I To be by oath
enioyn'd to this. Farewell, The day frownes more and more: thou'rt like
to haue A lullabie too rough: I neuer saw

The heauens so dim, by day. A sauage clamor? Well may I get a-boord:
This is the Chace, I am gone for euer.

Exit pursued by a Beare.

Shep. I would there were no age betweene ten and three and twenty, or
that youth would sleep out the rest: for there is nothing (in the
betweene) but getting wenches with childe, wronging the Auncientry,
stealing, fighting, hearke you now: would any but these boyldebraines
of nineteene, and two and twenty hunt this weather? They haue scarr'd
away two of my best Sheepe, which I feare the Wolfe will sooner finde
then the Maister; if any where I haue them, 'tis by the sea-side,
brouzing of Iuy. Good-lucke (and't be thy will) what haue we heere?
Mercy on's, a Barne? A very pretty barne; A boy, or a Childe I wonder?
(A pretty one, a verie prettie one) sure some Scape; Though I am not
bookish, yet I can reade Waiting-Gentlewoman in the scape: this has
beene some staire-worke, some Trunke-worke, some behinde-doore

worke: they were warmer that got this,

then the poore Thing is heere. Ile take it vp for pity, yet Ile tarry
till my sonne come: he hallow'd but euen now. Whoa-ho-hoa.

Enter Clowne.

Clo. Hilloa, loa

Shep. What? art so neere? If thou'lt see a thing to talke on, when
thou art dead and rotten, come hither: what ayl'st thou, man?

Clo. I haue seene two such sights, by Sea & by Land: but I am not to
say it is a Sea, for it is now the skie, betwixt the Firmament and it,
you cannot thrust a bodkins point

Shep. Why boy, how is it?

Clo. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it
takes vp the shore, but that's not to the point: Oh, the most pitteous
cry of the poore soules, sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em: Now
the Shippe boaring the Moone with her maine Mast, and anon swallowed
with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a Corke into a hogshead. And then
for the Land-seruice, to see how the Beare tore out his shoulder-bone,
how he cride to mee for helpe, and said his name was Antigonus, a
Nobleman: But to make an end of the Ship, to see how the Sea
flapdragon'd it: but first, how the poore soules roared, and the sea
mock'd them: and how the poore Gentleman roared, and the Beare mock'd
him, both roaring lowder then the sea, or weather

Shep. Name of mercy, when was this boy?   Clo. Now, now: I haue not
wink'd since I saw these sights: the men are not yet cold vnder water,
nor the Beare halfe din'd on the Gentleman: he's at it now

Shep. Would I had bin by, to haue help'd the olde man

Clo. I would you had beene by the ship side, to haue help'd her;
there your charity would haue lack'd footing

Shep. Heauy matters, heauy matters: but looke thee heere boy. Now
blesse thy selfe: thou met'st with things dying, I with things new
borne. Here's a sight for thee: Looke thee, a bearing-cloath for a
Squires childe: looke thee heere, take vp, take vp (Boy:) open't: so,
let's see, it was told me I should be rich by the Fairies. This is some
Changeling: open't: what's within, boy?

Clo. You're a mad olde man: If the sinnes of your youth are forgiuen
you, you're well to liue. Golde, all Gold

Shep. This is Faiery Gold boy, and 'twill proue so: vp with't, keepe
it close: home, home, the next way. We are luckie (boy) and to bee so
still requires nothing but secrecie. Let my sheepe go: Come (good boy)
the next way home

Clo. Go you the next way with your Findings, Ile go see if the Beare
bee gone from the Gentleman, and how much he hath eaten: they are neuer
curst but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left, Ile bury
it

Shep. That's a good deed: if thou mayest discerne by that which is
left of him, what he is, fetch me to th' sight of him

Clowne. 'Marry will I: and you shall helpe to put him i'th' ground

Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and wee'l do good deeds on't.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Time, the Chorus.

Time. I that please some, try all: both ioy and terror Of good, and
bad: that makes, and vnfolds error, Now take vpon me (in the name of
Time)

To vse my wings: Impute it not a crime

To me, or my swift passage, that I slide

Ore sixteene yeeres, and leaue the growth vntride Of that wide gap,
since it is in my powre To orethrow Law, and in one selfe-borne howre
To plant, and orewhelme Custome. Let me passe The same I am, ere
ancient'st Order was,

Or what is now receiu'd. I witnesse to

The times that brought them in, so shall I do To th' freshest things
now reigning, and make stale The glistering of this present, as my Tale
Now seemes to it: your patience this allowing, I turne my glasse, and
giue my Scene such growing As you had slept betweene: Leontes leauing
Th' effects of his fond iealousies, so greeuing That he shuts vp
himselfe. Imagine me

(Gentle Spectators) that I now may be

In faire Bohemia, and remember well,

I mentioned a sonne o'th' Kings, which Florizell I now name to you: and
with speed so pace To speake of Perdita, now growne in grace Equall
with wond'ring. What of her insues I list not prophesie: but let Times
newes Be knowne when 'tis brought forth. A shepherds daughter And what
to her adheres, which followes after, Is th' argument of Time: of this
allow,

If euer you haue spent time worse, ere now: If neuer, yet that Time
himselfe doth say, He wishes earnestly, you neuer may.

Enter.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Polixenes, and Camillo.

Pol. I pray thee (good Camillo) be no more importunate: 'tis a
sicknesse denying thee any thing: a death to grant this

Cam. It is fifteene yeeres since I saw my Countrey: though I haue
(for the most part) bin ayred abroad, I desire to lay my bones there.
Besides, the penitent King (my Master) hath sent for me, to whose
feeling sorrowes I might be some allay, or I oreweene to thinke so)
which is another spurre to my departure

Pol. As thou lou'st me (Camillo) wipe not out the rest of thy
seruices, by leauing me now: the neede I haue of thee, thine owne
goodnesse hath made: better not to haue had thee, then thus to want
thee, thou hauing made me Businesses, (which none (without thee) can
sufficiently manage) must either stay to execute them thy selfe, or
take away with thee the very seruices thou hast done: which if I haue
not enough considered (as too much I cannot) to bee more thankefull to
thee, shall bee my studie, and my profite therein, the heaping
friendshippes. Of that fatall Countrey Sicillia, prethee speake no
more, whose very naming, punnishes me with the remembrance of that
penitent (as thou calst him) and reconciled King my brother, whose
losse of his most precious Queene & Children, are euen now to be
a-fresh lamented. Say to me, when saw'st thou the Prince Florizell my
son? Kings are no lesse vnhappy, their issue, not being gracious, then
they are in loosing them, when they haue approued their Vertues

Cam. Sir, it is three dayes since I saw the Prince: what his happier
affayres may be, are to me vnknowne: but I haue (missingly) noted, he
is of late much retyred from Court, and is lesse frequent to his
Princely exercises then formerly he hath appeared

Pol. I haue considered so much (Camillo) and with some care, so
farre, that I haue eyes vnder my seruice, which looke vpon his
remouednesse: from whom I haue this Intelligence, that he is seldome
from the house of a most homely shepheard: a man (they say) that from
very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbors, is growne
into an vnspeakable estate

Cam. I haue heard (sir) of such a man, who hath a daughter of most
rare note: the report of her is extended more, then can be thought to
begin from such a cottage   Pol. That's likewise part of my
Intelligence: but (I feare) the Angle that pluckes our sonne thither.
Thou shalt accompany vs to the place, where we will (not appearing what
we are) haue some question with the shepheard; from whose simplicity, I
thinke it not vneasie to get the cause of my sonnes resort thether.
'Prethe be my present partner in this busines, and lay aside the
thoughts of Sicillia

Cam. I willingly obey your command

Pol. My best Camillo, we must disguise our selues.

Exit



Scena Tertia.

Enter Autolicus singing

When Daffadils begin to peere,

With heigh the Doxy ouer the dale,

Why then comes in the sweet o'the yeere,

For the red blood raigns in y winters pale. The white sheete bleaching
on the hedge,

With hey the sweet birds, O how they sing: Doth set my pugging tooth an
edge,

For a quart of Ale is a dish for a King.

The Larke, that tirra Lyra chaunts,

With heigh, the Thrush and the Iay:

Are Summer songs for me and my Aunts

While we lye tumbling in the hay.

I haue seru'd Prince Florizell, and in my time wore three pile, but now
I am out of seruice.

But shall I go mourne for that (my deere) the pale Moone shines by
night:

And when I wander here, and there

I then do most go right.

If Tinkers may haue leaue to liue,

and beare the Sow-skin Bowget,

Then my account I well may giue,

and in the Stockes auouch-it.

My Trafficke is sheetes: when the Kite builds, looke to lesser Linnen.
My Father nam'd me Autolicus, who being (as I am) lytter'd vnder
Mercurie, was likewise a snapper-vp of vnconsidered trifles: With Dye
and drab, I purchas'd this Caparison, and my Reuennew is the silly
Cheate. Gallowes, and Knocke, are too powerfull on the Highway. Beating
and hanging are terrors to mee: For the life to come, I sleepe out the
thought of it. A prize, a prize.

Enter Clowne.

Clo. Let me see, euery Leauen-weather toddes, euery tod yeeldes pound
and odde shilling: fifteene hundred shorne, what comes the wooll too?

Aut. If the sprindge hold, the Cocke's mine

Clo. I cannot do't without Compters. Let mee see, what am I to buy
for our Sheepe-shearing-Feast? Three pound of Sugar, fiue pound of
Currence, Rice: What will this sister of mine do with Rice? But my
father hath made her Mistris of the Feast, and she layes it on. Shee
hath made-me four and twenty Nose-gayes for the shearers (three-man
song-men, all, and very good ones) but they are most of them Meanes and
Bases; but one Puritan amongst them, and he sings Psalmes to
horne-pipes. I must haue Saffron to colour the Warden Pies, Mace:
Dates, none: that's out of my note: Nutmegges, seuen; a Race or two of
Ginger, but that I may begge: Foure pound of Prewyns, and as many of
Reysons o'th Sun

Aut. Oh, that euer I was borne

Clo. I'th' name of me

Aut. Oh helpe me, helpe mee: plucke but off these ragges: and then,
death, death

Clo. Alacke poore soule, thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee,
rather then haue these off

Aut. Oh sir, the loathsomnesse of them offend mee, more then the
stripes I haue receiued, which are mightie ones and millions

Clo. Alas poore man, a million of beating may come to a great
matter

Aut. I am rob'd sir, and beaten: my money, and apparrell tane from
me, and these detestable things put vpon me

Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man?   Aut. A footman (sweet
sir) a footman

Clo. Indeed, he should be a footman, by the garments he has left
with thee: If this bee a horsemans Coate, it hath seene very hot
seruice. Lend me thy hand, Ile helpe thee. Come, lend me thy hand

Aut. Oh good sir, tenderly, oh

Clo. Alas poore soule

Aut. Oh good sir, softly, good sir: I feare (sir) my shoulder-blade
is out

Clo. How now? Canst stand?

Aut. Softly, deere sir: good sir, softly: you ha done me a charitable
office

Clo. Doest lacke any mony? I haue a little mony for thee

Aut. No, good sweet sir: no, I beseech you sir: I haue a Kinsman not
past three quarters of a mile hence, vnto whome I was going: I shall
there haue money, or anie thing I want: Offer me no money I pray you,
that killes my heart

Clow. What manner of Fellow was hee that robb'd you?

Aut. A fellow (sir) that I haue knowne to goe about with
Troll-my-dames: I knew him once a seruant of the Prince: I cannot tell
good sir, for which of his Vertues it was, but hee was certainely Whipt
out of the Court

Clo. His vices you would say: there's no vertue whipt out of the
Court: they cherish it to make it stay there; and yet it will no more
but abide

Aut. Vices I would say (Sir.) I know this man well, he hath bene
since an Ape-bearer, then a Processe-seruer (a Bayliffe) then hee
compast a Motion of the Prodigall sonne, and married a Tinkers wife,
within a Mile where my Land and Liuing lyes; and (hauing flowne ouer
many knauish professions) he setled onely in Rogue: some call him
Autolicus

Clo. Out vpon him: Prig, for my life Prig: he haunts Wakes, Faires,
and Beare-baitings

Aut. Very true sir: he sir hee: that's the Rogue that put me into
this apparrell

Clo. Not a more cowardly Rogue in all Bohemia; If you had but look'd
bigge, and spit at him, hee'ld haue runne

Aut. I must confesse to you (sir) I am no fighter: I am false of
heart that way, & that he knew I warrant him

Clo. How do you now?

Aut. Sweet sir, much better then I was: I can stand, and walke: I
will euen take my leaue of you, & pace softly towards my Kinsmans

Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way?

Aut. No, good fac'd sir, no sweet sir

Clo. Then fartheewell, I must go buy Spices for our
sheepe-shearing.

Enter.

Aut. Prosper you sweet sir. Your purse is not hot enough to purchase
your Spice: Ile be with you at your sheepe-shearing too: If I make not
this Cheat bring out another, and the sheerers proue sheepe, let me be
vnrold, and my name put in the booke of Vertue.

Song. Iog-on, Iog-on, the foot-path way,

And merrily hent the Stile-a:

A merry heart goes all the day,

Your sad tyres in a Mile-a.

Enter.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Florizell, Perdita, Shepherd, Clowne, Polixenes, Camillo, Mopsa,

Dorcas, Seruants, Autolicus.

Flo. These your vnvsuall weeds, to each part of you Do's giue a life:
no Shepherdesse, but Flora Peering in Aprils front. This your
sheepe-shearing, Is as a meeting of the petty Gods,

And you the Queene on't

Perd. Sir: my gracious Lord,

To chide at your extreames, it not becomes me: (Oh pardon, that I name
them:) your high selfe The gracious marke o'th' Land, you haue obscur'd
With a Swaines wearing: and me (poore lowly Maide) Most Goddesse-like
prank'd vp: But that our Feasts In euery Messe, haue folly; and the
Feeders Digest with a Custome, I should blush

To see you so attyr'd: sworne I thinke,

To shew my selfe a glasse

Flo. I blesse the time

When my good Falcon, made her flight a-crosse Thy Fathers ground

Perd. Now Ioue affoord you cause:

To me the difference forges dread (your Greatnesse Hath not beene vs'd
to feare:) euen now I tremble To thinke your Father, by some accident

Should passe this way, as you did: Oh the Fates, How would he looke, to
see his worke, so noble, Vildely bound vp? What would he say? Or how
Should I (in these my borrowed Flaunts) behold The sternnesse of his
presence?

Flo. Apprehend

Nothing but iollity: the Goddes themselues (Humbling their Deities to
loue) haue taken The shapes of Beasts vpon them. Iupiter,

Became a Bull, and bellow'd: the greene Neptune A Ram, and bleated: and
the Fire-roab'd-God Golden Apollo, a poore humble Swaine,

As I seeme now. Their transformations,

Were neuer for a peece of beauty, rarer,

Nor in a way so chaste: since my desires

Run not before mine honor: nor my Lusts

Burne hotter then my Faith

Perd. O but Sir,

Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis

Oppos'd (as it must be) by th' powre of the King: One of these two must
be necessities,

Which then will speake, that you must change this purpose, Or I my
life

Flo. Thou deer'st Perdita,

With these forc'd thoughts, I prethee darken not The Mirth o'th' Feast:
Or Ile be thine (my Faire) Or not my Fathers. For I cannot be

Mine owne, nor any thing to any, if

I be not thine. To this I am most constant, Though destiny say no. Be
merry (Gentle)

Strangle such thoughts as these, with any thing That you behold the
while. Your guests are comming: Lift vp your countenance, as it were
the day Of celebration of that nuptiall, which

We two haue sworne shall come

Perd. O Lady Fortune,

Stand you auspicious

Flo. See, your Guests approach,

Addresse your selfe to entertaine them sprightly, And let's be red with
mirth

Shep. Fy (daughter) when my old wife liu'd: vpon This day, she was
both Pantler, Butler, Cooke, Both Dame and Seruant: Welcom'd all:
seru'd all, Would sing her song, and dance her turne: now heere At
vpper end o'th Table; now, i'th middle: On his shoulder, and his: her
face o' fire With labour, and the thing she tooke to quench it She
would to each one sip. You are retyred, As if you were a feasted one:
and not

The Hostesse of the meeting: Pray you bid These vnknowne friends to's
welcome, for it is A way to make vs better Friends, more knowne. Come,
quench your blushes, and present your selfe That which you are, Mistris
o'th' Feast. Come on, And bid vs welcome to your sheepe-shearing, As
your good flocke shall prosper

Perd. Sir, welcome:

It is my Fathers will, I should take on mee The Hostesseship o'th' day:
you're welcome sir. Giue me those Flowres there (Dorcas.) Reuerend
Sirs, For you, there's Rosemary, and Rue, these keepe Seeming, and
sauour all the Winter long:

Grace, and Remembrance be to you both,

And welcome to our Shearing

Pol. Shepherdesse,

(A faire one are you:) well you fit our ages With flowres of Winter

Perd. Sir, the yeare growing ancient,

Not yet on summers death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the
fayrest flowres o'th season Are our Carnations, and streak'd
Gilly-vors, (Which some call Natures bastards) of that kind Our
rusticke Gardens barren, and I care not To get slips of them

Pol. Wherefore (gentle Maiden)

Do you neglect them

Perd. For I haue heard it said,

There is an Art, which in their pidenesse shares With great
creating-Nature

Pol. Say there be:

Yet Nature is made better by no meane,

But Nature makes that Meane: so ouer that Art, (Which you say addes to
Nature) is an Art That Nature makes: you see (sweet Maid) we marry A
gentler Sien, to the wildest Stocke,

And make conceyue a barke of baser kinde

By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art

Which do's mend Nature: change it rather, but The Art it selfe, is
Nature

Perd. So it is

Pol. Then make you Garden rich in Gilly' vors, And do not call them
bastards

Perd. Ile not put

The Dible in earth, to set one slip of them: No more then were I
painted, I would wish This youth should say 'twer well: and onely
therefore Desire to breed by me. Here's flowres for you: Hot Lauender,
Mints, Sauory, Mariorum,

The Mary-gold, that goes to bed with' Sun, And with him rises, weeping:
These are flowres Of middle summer, and I thinke they are giuen To men
of middle age. Y'are very welcome

Cam. I should leaue grasing, were I of your flocke, And onely liue
by gazing

Perd. Out alas:

You'ld be so leane, that blasts of Ianuary Would blow you through and
through. Now (my fairst Friend, I would I had some Flowres o'th Spring,
that might Become your time of day: and yours, and yours, That weare
vpon your Virgin-branches yet

Your Maiden-heads growing: O Proserpina,

For the Flowres now, that (frighted) thou let'st fall From Dysses
Waggon: Daffadils,

That come before the Swallow dares, and take The windes of March with
beauty: Violets (dim, But sweeter then the lids of Iuno's eyes, Or
Cytherea's breath) pale Prime-roses,

That dye vnmarried, ere they can behold

Bright Phoebus in his strength (a Maladie Most incident to Maids:) bold
Oxlips, and The Crowne Imperiall: Lillies of all kinds, (The
Flowre-de-Luce being one.) O, these I lacke, To make you Garlands of)
and my sweet friend, To strew him o're, and ore

Flo. What? like a Coarse?

Perd. No, like a banke, for Loue to lye, and play on: Not like a
Coarse: or if: not to be buried, But quicke, and in mine armes. Come,
take your flours, Me thinkes I play as I haue seene them do In
Whitson-Pastorals: Sure this Robe of mine Do's change my disposition:

Flo. What you do,

Still betters what is done. When you speake (Sweet) I'ld haue you do it
euer: When you sing,

I'ld haue you buy, and sell so: so giue Almes, Pray so: and for the
ord'ring your Affayres, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you
A waue o'th Sea, that you might euer do

Nothing but that: moue still, still so:

And owne no other Function. Each your doing, (So singular, in each
particular)

Crownes what you are doing, in the present deeds, That all your Actes,
are Queenes

Perd. O Doricles,

Your praises are too large: but that your youth And the true blood
which peepes fairely through't, Do plainly giue you out an vnstain'd
Shepherd With wisedome, I might feare (my Doricles) You woo'd me the
false way

Flo. I thinke you haue

As little skill to feare, as I haue purpose To put you to't. But come,
our dance I pray, Your hand (my Perdita:) so Turtles paire

That neuer meane to part

Perd. Ile sweare for 'em

Pol. This is the prettiest Low-borne Lasse, that euer Ran on the
greene-sord: Nothing she do's, or seemes But smackes of something
greater then her selfe, Too Noble for this place

Cam. He tels her something

That makes her blood looke on't: Good sooth she is The Queene of Curds
and Creame

Clo. Come on: strike vp

Dorcas. Mopsa must be your Mistris: marry Garlick to mend her
kissing with

Mop. Now in good time

Clo. Not a word, a word, we stand vpon our manners, Come, strike
vp.

Heere a Daunce of Shepheards and Shephearddesses.

Pol. Pray good Shepheard, what faire Swaine is this, Which dances
with your daughter?

Shep. They call him Doricles, and boasts himselfe To haue a worthy
Feeding; but I haue it

Vpon his owne report, and I beleeue it:

He lookes like sooth: he sayes he loues my daughter, I thinke so too;
for neuer gaz'd the Moone Vpon the water, as hee'l stand and reade

As 'twere my daughters eyes: and to be plaine, I thinke there is not
halfe a kisse to choose Who loues another best

Pol. She dances featly

Shep. So she do's any thing, though I report it That should be
silent: If yong Doricles

Do light vpon her, she shall bring him that Which he not dreames of.

Enter Seruant.

Ser. O Master: if you did but heare the Pedler at the doore, you
would neuer dance againe after a Tabor and Pipe: no, the Bag-pipe could
not moue you: hee singes seuerall Tunes, faster then you'l tell money:
hee vtters them as he had eaten ballads, and all mens eares grew to his
Tunes

Clo. He could neuer come better: hee shall come in: I loue a ballad
but euen too well, if it be dolefull matter merrily set downe: or a
very pleasant thing indeede, and sung lamentably

Ser. He hath songs for man, or woman, of all sizes: No Milliner can
so fit his customers with Gloues: he has the prettiest Loue-songs for
Maids, so without bawdrie (which is strange,) with such delicate
burthens of Dildo's and Fadings: Iump-her, and thump-her; and where
some stretch-mouth'd Rascall, would (as it were) meane mischeefe, and
breake a fowle gap into the Matter, hee makes the maid to answere,
Whoop, doe me no harme good man: put's him off, slights him, with
Whoop, doe mee no harme good man

Pol. This is a braue fellow

Clo. Beleeue mee, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow, has
he any vnbraided Wares?

Ser. Hee hath Ribbons of all the colours i'th Rainebow; Points, more
then all the Lawyers in Bohemia, can learnedly handle, though they come
to him by th' grosse: Inckles, Caddysses, Cambrickes, Lawnes: why he
sings em ouer, as they were Gods, or Goddesses: you would thinke a
Smocke were a shee-Angell, he so chauntes to the sleeue-hand, and the
worke about the square on't

Clo. Pre'thee bring him in, and let him approach singing

Perd. Forewarne him, that he vse no scurrilous words in's tunes

Clow. You haue of these Pedlers, that haue more in them, then youl'd
thinke (Sister.)

Perd. I, good brother, or go about to thinke. Enter Autolicus
singing.

Lawne as white as driuen Snow,

Cypresse blacke as ere was Crow,

Gloues as sweete as Damaske Roses,

Maskes for faces, and for noses:

Bugle-bracelet, Necke-lace Amber,

Perfume for a Ladies Chamber:

Golden Quoifes, and Stomachers

For my Lads, to giue their deers:

Pins, and poaking-stickes of steele.

What Maids lacke from head to heele:

Come buy of me, come: come buy, come buy, Buy Lads, or else your Lasses
cry: Come buy

Clo. If I were not in loue with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no money
of me, but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the bondage of
certaine Ribbons and Gloues

Mop. I was promis'd them against the Feast, but they come not too
late now

Dor. He hath promis'd you more then that, or there be lyars

Mop. He hath paid you all he promis'd you: 'May be he has paid you
more, which will shame you to giue him againe

Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? Will they weare their
plackets, where they should bear their faces? Is there not
milking-time? When you are going to bed? Or kill-hole? To whistle of
these secrets, but you must be tittle-tatling before all our guests?
'Tis well they are whispring: clamor your tongues, and not a word more

Mop. I haue done; Come you promis'd me a tawdrylace, and a paire of
sweet Gloues

Clo. Haue I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the way, and lost all
my money

Aut. And indeed Sir, there are Cozeners abroad, therfore it behooues
men to be wary

Clo. Feare not thou man, thou shalt lose nothing here   Aut. I hope
so sir, for I haue about me many parcels of charge

Clo. What hast heere? Ballads?

Mop. Pray now buy some: I loue a ballet in print, a life, for then we
are sure they are true

Aut. Here's one, to a very dolefull tune, how a Vsurers wife was
brought to bed of twenty money baggs at a burthen, and how she long'd
to eate Adders heads, and Toads carbonado'd

Mop. Is it true, thinke you?

Aut. Very true, and but a moneth old

Dor. Blesse me from marrying a Vsurer

Aut. Here's the Midwiues name to't: one Mist[ris]. Tale-Porter, and
fiue or six honest Wiues, that were present. Why should I carry lyes
abroad?

Mop. 'Pray you now buy it

Clo. Come-on, lay it by: and let's first see moe Ballads: Wee'l buy
the other things anon

Aut. Here's another ballad of a Fish, that appeared vpon the coast,
on wensday the fourescore of April, fortie thousand fadom aboue water,
& sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was thought she
was a Woman, and was turn'd into a cold fish, for she wold not exchange
flesh with one that lou'd her: The Ballad is very pittifull, and as
true

Dor. Is it true too, thinke you

Autol. Fiue Iustices hands at it, and witnesses more then my packe
will hold

Clo. Lay it by too; another

Aut. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one

Mop. Let's haue some merry ones

Aut. Why this is a passing merry one, and goes to the tune of two
maids wooing a man: there's scarse a Maide westward but she sings it:
'tis in request, I can tell you

Mop. We can both sing it: if thou'lt beare a part, thou shalt heare,
'tis in three parts

Dor. We had the tune on't, a month agoe

Aut. I can beare my part, you must know 'tis my occupation: Haue at
it with you:

Song

Get you hence, for I must goe

Aut. Where it fits not you to know

Dor. Whether?

Mop. O whether?

Dor. Whether?

Mop. It becomes thy oath full well,

Thou to me thy secrets tell

Dor: Me too: Let me go thether:

Mop: Or thou goest to th' Grange, or Mill,   Dor: If to either thou
dost ill,

Aut: Neither

Dor: What neither?

Aut: Neither:

Dor: Thou hast sworne my Loue to be,

Mop: Thou hast sworne it more to mee.

Then whether goest? Say whether?

Clo. Wee'l haue this song out anon by our selues: My Father, and the
Gent. are in sad talke, & wee'll not trouble them: Come bring away thy
pack after me, Wenches Ile buy for you both: Pedler let's haue the
first choice; folow me girles

Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em.

Song.

Will you buy any Tape, or Lace for your Cape? My dainty Ducke, my
deere-a?

Any Silke, any Thred, any Toyes for your head Of the news't, and
fins't, fins't weare-a. Come to the Pedler, Money's a medler,

That doth vtter all mens ware-a.

Exit

Seruant. Mayster, there is three Carters, three Shepherds, three
Neat-herds, three Swine-herds y haue made themselues all men of haire,
they cal themselues Saltiers, and they haue a Dance, which the Wenches
say is a gally-maufrey of Gambols, because they are not in't: but they
themselues are o'th' minde (if it bee not too rough for some, that know
little but bowling) it will please plentifully

Shep. Away: Wee'l none on't; heere has beene too much homely foolery
already. I know (Sir) wee wearie you

Pol. You wearie those that refresh vs: pray let's see these
foure-threes of Heardsmen

Ser. One three of them, by their owne report (Sir,) hath danc'd
before the King: and not the worst of the three, but iumpes twelue
foote and a halfe by th' squire

Shep. Leaue your prating, since these good men are pleas'd, let them
come in: but quickly now

Ser. Why, they stay at doore Sir.

Heere a Dance of twelue Satyres.

Pol. O Father, you'l know more of that heereafter: Is it not too
farre gone? 'Tis time to part them, He's simple, and tels much. How now
(faire shepheard) Your heart is full of something, that do's take Your
minde from feasting. Sooth, when I was yong, And handed loue, as you
do; I was wont

To load my Shee with knackes: I would haue ransackt The Pedlers silken
Treasury, and haue powr'd it To her acceptance: you haue let him go,

And nothing marted with him. If your Lasse Interpretation should abuse,
and call this Your lacke of loue, or bounty, you were straited For a
reply at least, if you make a care

Of happie holding her

Flo. Old Sir, I know

She prizes not such trifles as these are: The gifts she lookes from me,
are packt and lockt Vp in my heart, which I haue giuen already, But not
deliuer'd. O heare me breath my life Before this ancient Sir, whom (it
should seeme) Hath sometime lou'd: I take thy hand, this hand, As soft
as Doues-downe, and as white as it, Or Ethyopians tooth, or the fan'd
snow, that's bolted By th' Northerne blasts, twice ore

Pol. What followes this?

How prettily th' yong Swaine seemes to wash The hand, was faire before?
I haue put you out, But to your protestation: Let me heare

What you professe

Flo. Do, and be witnesse too't

Pol. And this my neighbour too?

Flo. And he, and more

Then he, and men: the earth, the heauens, and all; That were I crown'd
the most Imperiall Monarch Thereof most worthy: were I the fayrest
youth That euer made eye swerue, had force and knowledge More then was
euer mans, I would not prize them Without her Loue; for her, employ
them all, Commend them, and condemne them to her seruice, Or to their
owne perdition

Pol. Fairely offer'd

Cam. This shewes a sound affection

Shep. But my daughter,

Say you the like to him

Per. I cannot speake

So well, (nothing so well) no, nor meane better By th' patterne of mine
owne thoughts, I cut out The puritie of his

Shep. Take hands, a bargaine;

And friends vnknowne, you shall beare witnesse to't: I giue my daughter
to him, and will make

Her Portion, equall his

Flo. O, that must bee

I'th Vertue of your daughter: One being dead, I shall haue more then
you can dreame of yet, Enough then for your wonder: but come-on,
Contract vs fore these Witnesses

Shep. Come, your hand:

And daughter, yours

Pol. Soft Swaine a-while, beseech you, Haue you a Father?

Flo. I haue: but what of him?

Pol. Knowes he of this?

Flo. He neither do's, nor shall

Pol. Me-thinkes a Father,

Is at the Nuptiall of his sonne, a guest

That best becomes the Table: Pray you once more Is not your Father
growne incapeable

Of reasonable affayres? Is he not stupid

With Age, and altring Rheumes? Can he speake? heare? Know man, from
man? Dispute his owne estate? Lies he not bed-rid? And againe, do's
nothing But what he did, being childish?

Flo. No good Sir:

He has his health, and ampler strength indeede Then most haue of his
age

Pol. By my white beard,

You offer him (if this be so) a wrong

Something vnfilliall: Reason my sonne

Should choose himselfe a wife, but as good reason The Father (all whose
ioy is nothing else But faire posterity) should hold some counsaile In
such a businesse

Flo. I yeeld all this;

But for some other reasons (my graue Sir) Which 'tis not fit you know,
I not acquaint My Father of this businesse

Pol. Let him know't

Flo. He shall not

Pol. Prethee let him

Flo. No, he must not

Shep. Let him (my sonne) he shall not need to greeue At knowing of
thy choice

Flo. Come, come, he must not:

Marke our Contract

Pol. Marke your diuorce (yong sir)

Whom sonne I dare not call: Thou art too base To be acknowledge. Thou a
Scepters heire, That thus affects a sheepe-hooke? Thou, old Traitor, I
am sorry, that by hanging thee, I can

But shorten thy life one weeke. And thou, fresh peece Of excellent
Witchcraft, whom of force must know The royall Foole thou coap'st with

Shep. Oh my heart

Pol. Ile haue thy beauty scratcht with briers & made More homely
then thy state. For thee (fond boy) If I may euer know thou dost but
sigh,

That thou no more shalt neuer see this knacke (as neuer I meane thou
shalt) wee'l barre thee from succession, Not hold thee of our blood, no
not our Kin, Farre then Deucalion off: (marke thou my words) Follow vs
to the Court. Thou Churle, for this time (Though full of our
displeasure) yet we free thee From the dead blow of it. And you
Enchantment, Worthy enough a Heardsman: yea him too,

That makes himselfe (but for our Honor therein) Vnworthy thee. If euer
henceforth, thou

These rurall Latches, to his entrance open, Or hope his body more, with
thy embraces, I will deuise a death, as cruell for thee As thou art
tender to't.

Enter.

Perd. Euen heere vndone:

I was not much a-fear'd: for once, or twice I was about to speake, and
tell him plainely, The selfe-same Sun, that shines vpon his Court,
Hides not his visage from our Cottage, but Lookes on alike. Wilt please
you (Sir) be gone? I told you what would come of this: Beseech you Of
your owne state take care: This dreame of mine Being now awake, Ile
Queene it no inch farther, But milke my Ewes, and weepe

Cam. Why how now Father,

Speake ere thou dyest

Shep. I cannot speake, nor thinke,

Nor dare to know, that which I know: O Sir, You haue vndone a man of
fourescore three, That thought to fill his graue in quiet: yea, To dye
vpon the bed my father dy'de,

To lye close by his honest bones; but now Some Hangman must put on my
shrowd, and lay me Where no Priest shouels-in dust. Oh cursed wretch,
That knew'st this was the Prince, and wouldst aduenture To mingle faith
with him. Vndone, vndone: If I might dye within this houre, I haue
liu'd To die when I desire.

Enter.

Flo. Why looke you so vpon me?

I am but sorry, not affear'd: delaid,

But nothing altred: What I was, I am:

More straining on, for plucking backe; not following My leash
vnwillingly

Cam. Gracious my Lord,

You know my Fathers temper: at this time

He will allow no speech: (which I do ghesse You do not purpose to him:)
and as hardly Will he endure your sight, as yet I feare; Then till the
fury of his Highnesse settle Come not before him

Flo. I not purpose it:

I thinke Camillo

Cam. Euen he, my Lord

Per. How often haue I told you 'twould be thus? How often said my
dignity would last

But till 'twer knowne?

Flo. It cannot faile, but by

The violation of my faith, and then

Let Nature crush the sides o'th earth together, And marre the seeds
within. Lift vp thy lookes: From my succession wipe me (Father) I

Am heyre to my affection

Cam. Be aduis'd

Flo. I am: and by my fancie, if my Reason Will thereto be obedient:
I haue reason:

If not, my sences better pleas'd with madnesse, Do bid it welcome

Cam. This is desperate (sir.)

Flo. So call it: but it do's fulfill my vow: I needs must thinke it
honesty. Camillo,

Not for Bohemia, nor the pompe that may

Be thereat gleaned: for all the Sun sees, or The close earth wombes, or
the profound seas, hides In vnknowne fadomes, will I breake my oath To
this my faire belou'd: Therefore, I pray you, As you haue euer bin my
Fathers honour'd friend, When he shall misse me, as (in faith I meane
not To see him any more) cast your good counsailes Vpon his passion:
Let my selfe, and Fortune Tug for the time to come. This you may know,
And so deliuer, I am put to Sea

With her, who heere I cannot hold on shore: And most opportune to her
neede, I haue

A Vessell rides fast by, but not prepar'd For this designe. What course
I meane to hold Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor Concerne me
the reporting

Cam. O my Lord,

I would your spirit were easier for aduice, Or stronger for your neede

Flo. Hearke Perdita,

Ile heare you by and by

Cam. Hee's irremoueable,

Resolu'd for flight: Now were I happy if

His going, I could frame to serue my turne, Saue him from danger, do
him loue and honor, Purchase the sight againe of deere Sicillia, And
that vnhappy King, my Master, whom

I so much thirst to see

Flo. Now good Camillo,

I am so fraught with curious businesse, that I leaue out ceremony

Cam. Sir, I thinke

You haue heard of my poore seruices, i'th loue That I haue borne your
Father?

Flo. Very nobly

Haue you deseru'd: It is my Fathers Musicke To speake your deeds: not
little of his care To haue them recompenc'd, as thought on

Cam. Well (my Lord)

If you may please to thinke I loue the King, And through him, what's
neerest to him, which is Your gracious selfe; embrace but my direction,
If your more ponderous and setled proiect May suffer alteration. On
mine honor,

Ile point you where you shall haue such receiuing As shall become your
Highnesse, where you may Enioy your Mistris; from the whom, I see

There's no disiunction to be made, but by (As heauens forefend) your
ruine: Marry her, And with my best endeuours, in your absence, Your
discontenting Father, striue to qualifie And bring him vp to liking

Flo. How Camillo

May this (almost a miracle) be done?

That I may call thee something more then man, And after that trust to
thee

Cam. Haue you thought on

A place whereto you'l go?

Flo. Not any yet:

But as th' vnthought-on accident is guiltie To what we wildely do, so
we professe

Our selues to be the slaues of chance, and flyes Of euery winde that
blowes

Cam. Then list to me:

This followes, if you will not change your purpose But vndergo this
flight: make for Sicillia, And there present your selfe, and your fayre
Princesse, (For so I see she must be) 'fore Leontes; She shall be
habited, as it becomes

The partner of your Bed. Me thinkes I see Leontes opening his free
Armes, and weeping His Welcomes forth: asks thee there Sonne
forgiuenesse, As 'twere i'th' Fathers person: kisses the hands Of your
fresh Princesse; ore and ore diuides him, 'Twixt his vnkindnesse, and
his Kindnesse: th' one He chides to Hell, and bids the other grow
Faster then Thought, or Time

Flo. Worthy Camillo,

What colour for my Visitation, shall I

Hold vp before him?

Cam. Sent by the King your Father

To greet him, and to giue him comforts. Sir, The manner of your bearing
towards him, with What you (as from your Father) shall deliuer, Things
knowne betwixt vs three, Ile write you downe, The which shall point you
forth at euery sitting What you must say: that he shall not perceiue,
But that you haue your Fathers Bosome there, And speake his very Heart

Flo. I am bound to you:

There is some sappe in this

Cam. A Course more promising,

Then a wild dedication of your selues

To vnpath'd Waters, vndream'd Shores; most certaine, To Miseries
enough: no hope to helpe you, But as you shake off one, to take
another: Nothing so certaine, as your Anchors, who Doe their best
office, if they can but stay you, Where you'le be loth to be: besides
you know, Prosperitie's the very bond of Loue,

Whose fresh complexion, and whose heart together, Affliction alters

Perd. One of these is true:

I thinke Affliction may subdue the Cheeke, But not take-in the Mind

Cam. Yea? say you so?

There shall not, at your Fathers House, these seuen yeeres Be borne
another such

Flo. My good Camillo,

She's as forward, of her Breeding, as

She is i'th' reare' our Birth

Cam. I cannot say, 'tis pitty

She lacks Instructions, for she seemes a Mistresse To most that teach

Perd. Your pardon Sir, for this,

Ile blush you Thanks

Flo. My prettiest Perdita.

But O, the Thornes we stand vpon: (Camillo) Preseruer of my Father, now
of me,

The Medicine of our House: how shall we doe? We are not furnish'd like
Bohemia's Sonne, Nor shall appeare in Sicilia

Cam. My Lord,

Feare none of this: I thinke you know my fortunes Doe all lye there: it
shall be so my care, To haue you royally appointed, as if

The Scene you play, were mine. For instance Sir, That you may know you
shall not want: one word. Enter Autolicus.

Aut. Ha, ha, what a Foole Honestie is? and Trust (his sworne brother)
a very simple Gentleman. I haue sold all my Tromperie: not a
counterfeit Stone, not a Ribbon, Glasse, Pomander, Browch, Table-booke,
Ballad, Knife, Tape, Gloue, Shooe-tye, Bracelet, Horne-Ring, to keepe
my Pack from fasting: they throng who should buy first, as if my
Trinkets had beene hallowed, and brought a benediction to the buyer: by
which meanes, I saw whose Purse was best in Picture; and what I saw, to
my good vse, I remembred. My Clowne (who wants but something to be a
reasonable man) grew so in loue with the Wenches Song, that hee would
not stirre his Petty-toes, till he had both Tune and Words, which so
drew the rest of the Heard to me, that all their other Sences stucke in
Eares: you might haue pinch'd a Placket, it was sencelesse; 'twas
nothing to gueld a Cod-peece of a Purse: I would haue fill'd Keyes of
that hung in Chaynes: no hearing, no feeling, but my Sirs Song, and
admiring the Nothing of it. So that in this time of Lethargie, I pickd
and cut most of their Festiuall Purses: And had not the old-man come in
with a Whoo-bub against his Daughter, and the Kings Sonne, and scar'd
my Chowghes from the Chaffe, I had not left a Purse aliue in the whole
Army

Cam. Nay, but my Letters by this meanes being there So soone as you
arriue, shall cleare that doubt

Flo. And those that you'le procure from King Leontes?   Cam. Shall
satisfie your Father

Perd. Happy be you:

All that you speake, shewes faire

Cam. Who haue we here?

Wee'le make an Instrument of this: omit

Nothing may giue vs aide

Aut. If they haue ouer-heard me now: why hanging

Cam. How now (good Fellow)

Why shak'st thou so? Feare not (man)

Here's no harme intended to thee

Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir

Cam. Why, be so still: here's no body will steale that from thee:
yet for the out-side of thy pouertie, we must make an exchange;
therefore dis-case thee instantly (thou must thinke there's a
necessitie in't) and change Garments with this Gentleman: Though the
penny-worth (on his side) be the worst, yet hold thee, there's some
boot

Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir: (I know ye well enough.)

Cam. Nay prethee dispatch: the Gentleman is halfe fled already

Aut. Are you in earnest, Sir? (I smell the trick on't.)   Flo.
Dispatch, I prethee

Aut. Indeed I haue had Earnest, but I cannot with conscience take
it

Cam. Vnbuckle, vnbuckle.

Fortunate Mistresse (let my prophecie

Come home to ye:) you must retire your selfe Into some Couert; take
your sweet-hearts Hat And pluck it ore your Browes, muffle your face,
Dis-mantle you, and (as you can) disliken The truth of your owne
seeming, that you may (For I doe feare eyes ouer) to Ship-boord Get
vndescry'd

Perd. I see the Play so lyes,

That I must beare a part

Cam. No remedie:

Haue you done there?

Flo. Should I now meet my Father,

He would not call me Sonne

Cam. Nay, you shall haue no Hat:

Come Lady, come: Farewell (my friend.)

Aut. Adieu, Sir

Flo. O Perdita: what haue we twaine forgot? 'Pray you a word

Cam. What I doe next, shall be to tell the King Of this escape, and
whither they are bound; Wherein, my hope is, I shall so preuaile, To
force him after: in whose company

I shall re-view Sicilia; for whose sight, I haue a Womans Longing

Flo. Fortune speed vs:

Thus we set on (Camillo) to th' Sea-side

Cam. The swifter speed, the better.

Enter.

Aut. I vnderstand the businesse, I heare it: to haue an open eare, a
quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a Cut-purse; a good Nose
is requisite also, to smell out worke for th' other Sences. I see this
is the time that the vniust man doth thriue. What an exchange had this
been, without boot? What a boot is here, with this exchange? Sure the
Gods doe this yeere conniue at vs, and we may doe any thing extempore.
The Prince himselfe is about a peece of Iniquitie (stealing away from
his Father, with his Clog at his heeles:) if I thought it were a peece
of honestie to acquaint the King withall, I would not do't: I hold it
the more knauerie to conceale it; and therein am I constant to my
Profession.

Enter Clowne and Shepheard.

Aside, aside, here is more matter for a hot braine: Euery Lanes end,
euery Shop, Church, Session, Hanging, yeelds a carefull man worke

Clowne. See, see: what a man you are now? there is no other way, but
to tell the King she's a Changeling, and none of your flesh and blood

Shep. Nay, but heare me

Clow. Nay; but heare me

Shep. Goe too then

Clow. She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood
ha's not offended the King, and so your flesh and blood is not to be
punish'd by him. Shew those things you found about her (those secret
things, all but what she ha's with her:) This being done, let the Law
goe whistle: I warrant you

Shep. I will tell the King all, euery word, yea, and his Sonnes
prancks too; who, I may say, is no honest man, neither to his Father,
nor to me, to goe about to make me the Kings Brother in Law

Clow. Indeed Brother in Law was the farthest off you could haue
beene to him, and then your Blood had beene the dearer, by I know how
much an ounce

Aut. Very wisely (Puppies.)

Shep. Well: let vs to the King: there is that in this Farthell, will
make him scratch his Beard

Aut. I know not what impediment this Complaint may be to the flight
of my Master

Clo. 'Pray heartily he be at' Pallace

Aut. Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance:
Let me pocket vp my Pedlers excrement. How now (Rustiques) whither are
you bound?   Shep. To th' Pallace (and it like your Worship.)

Aut. Your Affaires there? what? with whom? the Condition of that
Farthell? the place of your dwelling? your names? your ages? of what
hauing? breeding, and any thing that is fitting to be knowne, discouer?
Clo. We are but plaine fellowes, Sir

Aut. A Lye; you are rough, and hayrie: Let me haue no lying; it
becomes none but Trades-men, and they often giue vs (Souldiers) the
Lye, but wee pay them for it with stamped Coyne, not stabbing Steele,
therefore they doe not giue vs the Lye

Clo. Your Worship had like to haue giuen vs one, if you had not
taken your selfe with the manner

Shep. Are you a Courtier, and't like you Sir?   Aut. Whether it like
me, or no, I am a Courtier. Seest thou not the ayre of the Court, in
these enfoldings? Hath not my gate in it, the measure of the Court?
Receiues not thy Nose Court-Odour from me? Reflect I not on thy
Basenesse, Court-Contempt? Think'st thou, for that I insinuate, at
toaze from thee thy Businesse, I am therefore no Courtier? I am
Courtier Capape; and one that will eyther push-on, or pluck-back, thy
Businesse there: whereupon I command thee to open thy Affaire

Shep. My Businesse, Sir, is to the King

Aut. What Aduocate ha'st thou to him?

Shep. I know not (and't like you.)

Clo. Aduocate's the Court-word for a Pheazant: say you haue none

Shep. None, Sir: I haue no Pheazant Cock, nor Hen

Aut. How blessed are we, that are not simple men? Yet Nature might
haue made me as these are, Therefore I will not disdaine

Clo. This cannot be but a great Courtier

Shep. His Garments are rich, but he weares them not handsomely

Clo. He seemes to be the more Noble, in being fantasticall: A great
man, Ile warrant; I know by the picking on's Teeth

Aut. The Farthell there? What's i'th' Farthell? Wherefore that Box?

Shep. Sir, there lyes such Secrets in this Farthell and Box, which
none must know but the King, and which hee shall know within this
houre, if I may come to th' speech of him

Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour

Shep. Why Sir?

Aut. The King is not at the Pallace, he is gone aboord a new Ship, to
purge Melancholy, and ayre himselfe: for if thou bee'st capable of
things serious, thou must know the King is full of griefe

Shep. So 'tis said (Sir:) about his Sonne, that should haue marryed
a Shepheards Daughter

Aut. If that Shepheard be not in hand-fast, let him flye; the Curses
he shall haue, the Tortures he shall feele, will breake the back of
Man, the heart of Monster

Clo. Thinke you so, Sir?

Aut. Not hee alone shall suffer what Wit can make heauie, and
Vengeance bitter; but those that are Iermaine to him (though remou'd
fiftie times) shall all come vnder the Hang-man: which, though it be
great pitty, yet it is necessarie. An old Sheepe-whistling Rogue, a
Ram-tender, to offer to haue his Daughter come into grace? Some say hee
shall be ston'd: but that death is too soft for him (say I:) Draw our
Throne into a Sheep-Coat? all deaths are too few, the sharpest too
easie

Clo. Ha's the old-man ere a Sonne Sir (doe you heare) and't like
you, Sir?

Aut. Hee ha's a Sonne: who shall be flayd aliue, then 'noynted ouer
with Honey, set on the head of a Waspes Nest, then stand till he be
three quarters and a dram dead: then recouer'd againe with Aquavite, or
some other hot Infusion: then, raw as he is (and in the hotest day
Prognostication proclaymes) shall he be set against a Brick-wall, (the
Sunne looking with a South-ward eye vpon him; where hee is to behold
him, with Flyes blown to death.)

But what talke we of these Traitorly-Rascals, whose miseries are to be
smil'd at, their offences being so capitall? Tell me (for you seeme to
be honest plaine men) what you haue to the King: being something gently
consider'd, Ile bring you where he is aboord, tender your persons to
his presence, whisper him in your behalfes; and if it be in man,
besides the King, to effect your Suites, here is man shall doe it

Clow. He seemes to be of great authoritie: close with him, giue him
Gold; and though Authoritie be a stubborne Beare, yet hee is oft led by
the Nose with Gold: shew the in-side of your Purse to the out-side of
his hand, and no more adoe. Remember ston'd, and flay'd aliue

Shep. And't please you (Sir) to vndertake the Businesse for vs, here
is that Gold I haue: Ile make it as much more, and leaue this young man
in pawne, till I bring it you

Aut. After I haue done what I promised?   Shep. I Sir

Aut. Well, giue me the Moitie: Are you a partie in this Businesse?

Clow. In some sort, Sir: but though my case be a pittifull one, I
hope I shall not be flayd out of it

Aut. Oh, that's the case of the Shepheards Sonne: hang him, hee'le
be made an example

Clow. Comfort, good comfort: We must to the King, and shew our
strange sights: he must know 'tis none of your Daughter, nor my Sister:
wee are gone else. Sir, I will giue you as much as this old man do's,
when the Businesse is performed, and remaine (as he sayes) your pawne
till it be brought you

Aut. I will trust you. Walke before toward the Seaside, goe on the
right hand, I will but looke vpon the Hedge, and follow you

Clow. We are bless'd, in this man: as I may say, euen bless'd

Shep. Let's before, as he bids vs: he was prouided to doe vs good

Aut. If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would not suffer
mee: shee drops Booties in my mouth. I am courted now with a double
occasion: (Gold, and a means to doe the Prince my Master good; which,
who knowes how that may turne backe to my aduancement?) I will bring
these two Moales, these blind-ones, aboord him: if he thinke it fit to
shoare them againe, and that the Complaint they haue to the King,
concernes him nothing, let him call me Rogue, for being so farre
officious, for I am proofe against that Title, and what shame else
belongs to't: To him will I present them, there may be matter in it.

Exeunt.



Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Leontes, Cleomines, Dion, Paulina, Seruants: Florizel, Perdita.

Cleo. Sir, you haue done enough, and haue perform'd A Saint-like
Sorrow: No fault could you make, Which you haue not redeem'd; indeed
pay'd downe More penitence, then done trespas: At the last Doe, as the
Heauens haue done; forget your euill, With them, forgiue your selfe

Leo. Whilest I remember

Her, and her Vertues, I cannot forget

My blemishes in them, and so still thinke of The wrong I did my selfe:
which was so much, That Heire-lesse it hath made my Kingdome, and
Destroy'd the sweet'st Companion, that ere man Bred his hopes out of,
true

Paul. Too true (my Lord:)

If one by one, you wedded all the World,

Or from the All that are, tooke something good, To make a perfect
Woman; she you kill'd,

Would be vnparallell'd

Leo. I thinke so. Kill'd?

She I kill'd? I did so: but thou strik'st me Sorely, to say I did: it
is as bitter

Vpon thy Tongue, as in my Thought. Now, good now, Say so but seldome

Cleo. Not at all, good Lady:

You might haue spoken a thousand things, that would Haue done the time
more benefit, and grac'd Your kindnesse better

Paul. You are one of those

Would haue him wed againe

Dio. If you would not so,

You pitty not the State, nor the Remembrance Of his most Soueraigne
Name: Consider little, What Dangers, by his Highnesse faile of Issue,
May drop vpon his Kingdome, and deuoure

Incertaine lookers on. What were more holy, Then to reioyce the former
Queene is well? What holyer, then for Royalties repayre,

For present comfort, and for future good, To blesse the Bed of Maiestie
againe

With a sweet Fellow to't?

Paul. There is none worthy,

(Respecting her that's gone:) besides the Gods Will haue fulfill'd
their secret purposes: For ha's not the Diuine Apollo said?

Is't not the tenor of his Oracle,

That King Leontes shall not haue an Heire, Till his lost Child be
found? Which, that it shall, Is all as monstrous to our humane reason,
As my Antigonus to breake his Graue,

And come againe to me: who, on my life,

Did perish with the Infant. 'Tis your councell, My Lord should to the
Heauens be contrary, Oppose against their wills. Care not for Issue,
The Crowne will find an Heire. Great Alexander Left his to th'
Worthiest: so his Successor Was like to be the best

Leo. Good Paulina,

Who hast the memorie of Hermione

I know in honor: O, that euer I

Had squar'd me to thy councell: then, euen now, I might haue look'd
vpon my Queenes full eyes, Haue taken Treasure from her Lippes

Paul. And left them

More rich, for what they yeelded

Leo. Thou speak'st truth:

No more such Wiues, therefore no Wife: one worse, And better vs'd,
would make her Sainted Spirit Againe possesse her Corps, and on this
Stage (Where we Offendors now appeare) Soule-vext, And begin, why to
me?

Paul. Had she such power,

She had iust such cause

Leo. She had, and would incense me

To murther her I marryed

Paul. I should so:

Were I the Ghost that walk'd, Il'd bid you marke Her eye, and tell me
for what dull part in't You chose her: then Il'd shrieke, that euen
your eares Should rift to heare me, and the words that follow'd, Should
be, Remember mine

Leo. Starres, Starres,

And all eyes else, dead coales: feare thou no Wife; Ile haue no Wife,
Paulina

Paul. Will you sweare

Neuer to marry, but by my free leaue?

Leo. Neuer (Paulina) so be bless'd my Spirit

Paul. Then good my Lords, beare witnesse to his Oath

Cleo. You tempt him ouer-much

Paul. Vnlesse another,

As like Hermione, as is her Picture,

Affront his eye

Cleo. Good Madame, I haue done

Paul. Yet if my Lord will marry: if you will, Sir; No remedie but
you will: Giue me the Office To chuse you a Queene: she shall not be so
young As was your former, but she shall be such As (walk'd your first
Queenes Ghost) it should take ioy To see her in your armes

Leo. My true Paulina,

We shall not marry, till thou bidst vs

Paul. That

Shall be when your first Queene's againe in breath: Neuer till then.

Enter a Seruant.

Ser. One that giues out himselfe Prince Florizell, Sonne of
Polixenes, with his Princesse (she The fairest I haue yet beheld)
desires accesse To your high presence

Leo. What with him? he comes not

Like to his Fathers Greatnesse: his approach (So out of circumstance,
and suddaine) tells vs, 'Tis not a Visitation fram'd, but forc'd

By need, and accident. What Trayne?

Ser. But few,

And those but meane

Leo. His Princesse (say you) with him?   Ser. I: the most peerelesse
peece of Earth, I thinke, That ere the Sunne shone bright on

Paul. Oh Hermione,

As euery present Time doth boast it selfe Aboue a better, gone; so must
thy Graue

Giue way to what's seene now. Sir, you your selfe Haue said, and writ
so; but your writing now Is colder then that Theame: she had not beene,
Nor was not to be equall'd, thus your Verse Flow'd with her Beautie
once; 'tis shrewdly ebb'd, To say you haue seene a better

Ser. Pardon, Madame:

The one, I haue almost forgot (your pardon:) The other, when she ha's
obtayn'd your Eye, Will haue your Tongue too. This is a Creature, Would
she begin a Sect, might quench the zeale Of all Professors else; make
Proselytes

Of who she but bid follow

Paul. How? not women?

Ser. Women will loue her, that she is a Woman More worth then any
Man: Men, that she is The rarest of all Women

Leo. Goe Cleomines,

Your selfe (assisted with your honor'd Friends) Bring them to our
embracement. Still 'tis strange, He thus should steale vpon vs.

Enter

Paul. Had our Prince

(Iewell of Children) seene this houre, he had payr'd Well with this
Lord; there was not full a moneth Betweene their births

Leo. 'Prethee no more; cease: thou know'st He dyes to me againe,
when talk'd-of: sure When I shall see this Gentleman, thy speeches Will
bring me to consider that, which may Vnfurnish me of Reason. They are
come.

Enter Florizell, Perdita, Cleomines, and others.

Your Mother was most true to Wedlock, Prince, For she did print your
Royall Father off, Conceiuing you. Were I but twentie one,

Your Fathers Image is so hit in you,

(His very ayre) that I should call you Brother, As I did him, and
speake of something wildly By vs perform'd before. Most dearely
welcome, And your faire Princesse (Goddesse) oh: alas, I lost a couple,
that 'twixt Heauen and Earth Might thus haue stood, begetting wonder,
as You (gracious Couple) doe: and then I lost (All mine owne Folly) the
Societie,

Amitie too of your braue Father, whom

(Though bearing Miserie) I desire my life Once more to looke on him

Flo. By his command

Haue I here touch'd Sicilia, and from him Giue you all greetings, that
a King (at friend) Can send his Brother: and but Infirmitie

(Which waits vpon worne times) hath something seiz'd His wish'd
Abilitie, he had himselfe

The Lands and Waters, 'twixt your Throne and his, Measur'd, to looke
vpon you; whom he loues (He bad me say so) more then all the Scepters,
And those that beare them, liuing

Leo. Oh my Brother,

(Good Gentleman) the wrongs I haue done thee, stirre Afresh within me:
and these thy offices

(So rarely kind) are as Interpreters

Of my behind-hand slacknesse. Welcome hither, As is the Spring to th'
Earth. And hath he too Expos'd this Paragon to th' fearefull vsage (At
least vngentle) of the dreadfull Neptune, To greet a man, not worth her
paines; much lesse, Th' aduenture of her person?

Flo. Good my Lord,

She came from Libia

Leo. Where the Warlike Smalus,

That Noble honor'd Lord, is fear'd, and lou'd?   Flo. Most Royall Sir,

From thence: from him, whose Daughter

His Teares proclaym'd his parting with her: thence (A prosperous
South-wind friendly) we haue cross'd, To execute the Charge my Father
gaue me,

For visiting your Highnesse: My best Traine I haue from your Sicilian
Shores dismiss'd; Who for Bohemia bend, to signifie

Not onely my successe in Libia (Sir)

But my arriuall, and my Wifes, in safetie Here, where we are

Leo. The blessed Gods

Purge all Infection from our Ayre, whilest you Doe Clymate here: you
haue a holy Father, A graceful Gentleman, against whose person (So
sacred as it is) I haue done sinne,

For which, the Heauens (taking angry note) Haue left me Issue-lesse:
and your Father's bless'd (As he from Heauen merits it) with you,

Worthy his goodnesse. What might I haue been, Might I a Sonne and
Daughter now haue look'd on, Such goodly things as you?

Enter a Lord.

Lord. Most Noble Sir,

That which I shall report, will beare no credit, Were not the proofe so
nigh. Please you (great Sir) Bohemia greets you from himselfe, by me:

Desires you to attach his Sonne, who ha's (His Dignitie, and Dutie both
cast off)

Fled from his Father, from his Hopes, and with A Shepheards Daughter

Leo. Where's Bohemia? speake:

Lord. Here, in your Citie: I now came from him. I speake amazedly,
and it becomes

My meruaile, and my Message. To your Court Whiles he was hastning (in
the Chase, it seemes, Of this faire Couple) meetes he on the way The
Father of this seeming Lady, and

Her Brother, hauing both their Countrey quitted, With this young
Prince

Flo. Camillo ha's betray'd me;

Whose honor, and whose honestie till now, Endur'd all Weathers

Lord. Lay't so to his charge:

He's with the King your Father

Leo. Who? Camillo?

Lord. Camillo (Sir:) I spake with him: who now Ha's these poore men
in question. Neuer saw I Wretches so quake: they kneele, they kisse the
Earth; Forsweare themselues as often as they speake: Bohemia stops his
eares, and threatens them With diuers deaths, in death

Perd. Oh my poore Father:

The Heauen sets Spyes vpon vs, will not haue Our Contract celebrated

Leo. You are marryed?

Flo. We are not (Sir) nor are we like to be: The Starres (I see) will
kisse the Valleyes first: The oddes for high and low's alike

Leo. My Lord,

Is this the Daughter of a King?

Flo. She is,

When once she is my Wife

Leo. That once (I see) by your good Fathers speed, Will come-on very
slowly. I am sorry

(Most sorry) you haue broken from his liking, Where you were ty'd in
dutie: and as sorry, Your Choice is not so rich in Worth, as Beautie,
That you might well enioy her

Flo. Deare, looke vp:

Though Fortune, visible an Enemie,

Should chase vs, with my Father; powre no iot Hath she to change our
Loues. Beseech you (Sir) Remember, since you ow'd no more to Time

Then I doe now: with thought of such Affections, Step forth mine
Aduocate: at your request, My Father will graunt precious things, as
Trifles

Leo. Would he doe so, I'ld beg your precious Mistris, Which he
counts but a Trifle

Paul. Sir (my Liege)

Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a moneth 'Fore your Queene dy'd,
she was more worth such gazes, Then what you looke on now

Leo. I thought of her,

Euen in these Lookes I made. But your Petition Is yet vn-answer'd: I
will to your Father: Your Honor not o're-throwne by your desires, I am
friend to them, and you: Vpon which Errand I now goe toward him:
therefore follow me, And marke what way I make: Come good my Lord.

Exeunt.



Scoena Secunda.



Enter Autolicus, and a Gentleman.

Aut. Beseech you (Sir) were you present at this Relation?   Gent.1. I
was by at the opening of the Farthell, heard the old Shepheard deliuer
the manner how he found it: Whereupon (after a little amazednesse) we
were all commanded out of the Chamber: onely this (me thought) I heard
the Shepheard say, he found the Child

Aut. I would most gladly know the issue of it

Gent.1. I make a broken deliuerie of the Businesse; but the changes
I perceiued in the King, and Camillo, were very Notes of admiration:
they seem'd almost, with staring on one another, to teare the Cases of
their Eyes. There was speech in their dumbnesse, Language in their very
gesture: they look'd as they had heard of a World ransom'd, or one
destroyed: a notable passion of Wonder appeared in them: but the wisest
beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say, if th'
importance were Ioy, or Sorrow; but in the extremitie of the one, it
must needs be.

Enter another Gentleman.

Here comes a Gentleman, that happily knowes more: The Newes, Rogero

Gent.2. Nothing but Bon-fires: the Oracle is fulfill'd: the Kings
Daughter is found: such a deale of wonder is broken out within this
houre, that Ballad-makers cannot be able to expresse it.

Enter another Gentleman.

Here comes the Lady Paulina's Steward, hee can deliuer you more. How
goes it now (Sir.) This Newes (which is call'd true) is so like an old
Tale, that the veritie of it is in strong suspition: Ha's the King
found his Heire?   Gent.3. Most true, if euer Truth were pregnant by
Circumstance: That which you heare, you'le sweare you see, there is
such vnitie in the proofes. The Mantle of Queene Hermiones: her Iewell
about the Neck of it: the Letters of Antigonus found with it, which
they know to be his Character: the Maiestie of the Creature, in
resemblance of the Mother: the Affection of Noblenesse, which Nature
shewes aboue her Breeding, and many other Euidences, proclayme her,
with all certaintie, to be the Kings Daughter. Did you see the meeting
of the two Kings?

Gent.2. No

Gent.3. Then haue you lost a Sight which was to bee seene, cannot
bee spoken of. There might you haue beheld one Ioy crowne another, so
and in such manner, that it seem'd Sorrow wept to take leaue of them:
for their Ioy waded in teares. There was casting vp of Eyes, holding vp
of Hands, with Countenance of such distraction, that they were to be
knowne by Garment, not by Fauor. Our King being ready to leape out of
himselfe, for ioy of his found Daughter; as if that Ioy were now become
a Losse, cryes, Oh, thy Mother, thy Mother: then askes Bohemia
forgiuenesse, then embraces his Sonne-in-Law: then againe worryes he
his Daughter, with clipping her. Now he thanks the old Shepheard (which
stands by, like a Weather-bitten Conduit, of many Kings Reignes.) I
neuer heard of such another Encounter; which lames Report to follow it,
and vndo's description to doe it

Gent.2. What, 'pray you, became of Antigonus, that carryed hence the
Child?

Gent.3. Like an old Tale still, which will haue matter to rehearse,
though Credit be asleepe, and not an eare open; he was torne to pieces
with a Beare: This auouches the Shepheards Sonne; who ha's not onely
his Innocence (which seemes much) to iustifie him, but a Hand-kerchief
and Rings of his, that Paulina knowes

Gent.1. What became of his Barke, and his Followers?   Gent.3.
Wrackt the same instant of their Masters death, and in the view of the
Shepheard: so that all the Instruments which ayded to expose the Child,
were euen then lost, when it was found. But oh the Noble Combat, that
'twixt Ioy and Sorrow was fought in Paulina. Shee had one Eye declin'd
for the losse of her Husband, another eleuated, that the Oracle was
fulfill'd: Shee lifted the Princesse from the Earth, and so locks her
in embracing, as if shee would pin her to her heart, that shee might no
more be in danger of loosing

Gent.1. The Dignitie of this Act was worth the audience of Kings and
Princes, for by such was it acted

Gent.3. One of the prettyest touches of all, and that which angl'd
for mine Eyes (caught the Water, though not the Fish) was, when at the
Relation of the Queenes death (with the manner how shee came to't,
brauely confess'd, and lamented by the King) how attentiuenesse wounded
his Daughter, till (from one signe of dolour to another) shee did (with
an Alas) I would faine say, bleed Teares; for I am sure, my heart wept
blood. Who was most Marble, there changed colour: some swownded, all
sorrowed: if all the World could haue seen't, the Woe had beene
vniuersall

Gent.1. Are they returned to the Court?   Gent.3. No: The Princesse
hearing of her Mothers Statue (which is in the keeping of Paulina) a
Peece many yeeres in doing, and now newly perform'd, by that rare
Italian Master, Iulio Romano, who (had he himselfe Eternitie, and could
put Breath into his Worke) would beguile Nature of her Custome, so
perfectly he is her Ape: He so neere to Hermione, hath done Hermione,
that they say one would speake to her, and stand in hope of answer.
Thither (with all greedinesse of affection) are they gone, and there
they intend to Sup

Gent.2. I thought she had some great matter there in hand, for shee
hath priuately, twice or thrice a day, euer since the death of
Hermione, visited that remoued House. Shall wee thither, and with our
companie peece the Reioycing?   Gent.1. Who would be thence, that ha's
the benefit of Accesse? euery winke of an Eye, some new Grace will be
borne: our Absence makes vs vnthriftie to our Knowledge. Let's along.

Enter.

Aut. Now (had I not the dash of my former life in me) would
Preferment drop on my head. I brought the old man and his Sonne aboord
the Prince; told him, I heard them talke of a Farthell, and I know not
what: but he at that time ouer-fond of the Shepheards Daughter (so he
then tooke her to be) who began to be much Sea-sick, and himselfe
little better, extremitie of Weather continuing, this Mysterie remained
vndiscouer'd. But 'tis all one to me: for had I beene the finder-out of
this Secret, it would not haue rellish'd among my other discredits.
Enter Shepheard and Clowne.

Here come those I haue done good to against my will, and alreadie
appearing in the blossomes of their Fortune

Shep. Come Boy, I am past moe Children: but thy Sonnes and Daughters
will be all Gentlemen borne

Clow. You are well met (Sir:) you deny'd to fight with mee this
other day, because I was no Gentleman borne. See you these Clothes? say
you see them not, and thinke me still no Gentleman borne: You were best
say these Robes are not Gentlemen borne. Giue me the Lye: doe: and try
whether I am not now a Gentleman borne

Aut. I know you are now (Sir) a Gentleman borne

Clow. I, and haue been so any time these foure houres

Shep. And so haue I, Boy

Clow. So you haue: but I was a Gentleman borne before my Father: for
the Kings Sonne tooke me by the hand, and call'd mee Brother: and then
the two Kings call'd my Father Brother: and then the Prince (my
Brother) and the Princesse (my Sister) call'd my Father, Father; and so
wee wept: and there was the first Gentleman-like teares that euer we
shed

Shep. We may liue (Sonne) to shed many more

Clow. I: or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous estate
as we are

Aut. I humbly beseech you (Sir) to pardon me all the faults I haue
committed to your Worship, and to giue me your good report to the
Prince my Master

Shep. 'Prethee Sonne doe: for we must be gentle, now we are
Gentlemen

Clow. Thou wilt amend thy life?

Aut. I, and it like your good Worship

Clow. Giue me thy hand: I will sweare to the Prince, thou art as
honest a true Fellow as any is in Bohemia

Shep. You may say it, but not sweare it

Clow. Not sweare it, now I am a Gentleman? Let Boores and Francklins
say it, Ile sweare it

Shep. How if it be false (Sonne?)

Clow. If it be ne're so false, a true Gentleman may sweare it, in the
behalfe of his Friend: And Ile sweare to the Prince, thou art a tall
Fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt not be drunke: but I know thou
art no tall Fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt be drunke: but Ile
sweare it, and I would thou would'st be a tall Fellow of thy hands

Aut. I will proue so (Sir) to my power

Clow. I, by any meanes proue a tall Fellow: if I do not wonder, how
thou dar'st venture to be drunke, not being a tall Fellow, trust me
not. Harke, the Kings and Princes (our Kindred) are going to see the
Queenes Picture. Come, follow vs: wee'le be thy good Masters.

Exeunt.



Scaena Tertia.

Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizell, Perdita, Camillo, Paulina:
Hermione

(like a Statue:) Lords, &c.

Leo. O graue and good Paulina, the great comfort That I haue had of
thee?

Paul. What (Soueraigne Sir)

I did not well, I meant well: all my Seruices You haue pay'd home. But
that you haue vouchsaf'd (With your Crown'd Brother, and these your
contracted Heires of your Kingdomes) my poore House to visit; It is a
surplus of your Grace, which neuer My life may last to answere

Leo. O Paulina,

We honor you with trouble: but we came

To see the Statue of our Queene. Your Gallerie Haue we pass'd through,
not without much content In many singularities; but we saw not

That which my Daughter came to looke vpon, The Statue of her Mother

Paul. As she liu'd peerelesse,

So her dead likenesse I doe well beleeue

Excells what euer yet you look'd vpon,

Or hand of Man hath done: therefore I keepe it Louely, apart. But here
it is: prepare

To see the Life as liuely mock'd, as euer Still Sleepe mock'd Death:
behold, and say 'tis well. I like your silence, it the more shewes-off
Your wonder: but yet speake, first you (my Liege) Comes it not
something neere?

Leo. Her naturall Posture.

Chide me (deare Stone) that I may say indeed Thou art Hermione; or
rather, thou art she, In thy not chiding: for she was as tender As
Infancie, and Grace. But yet (Paulina) Hermione was not so much
wrinckled, nothing So aged as this seemes

Pol. Oh, not by much

Paul. So much the more our Caruers excellence, Which lets goe-by
some sixteene yeeres, and makes her As she liu'd now

Leo. As now she might haue done,

So much to my good comfort, as it is

Now piercing to my Soule. Oh, thus she stood, Euen with such Life of
Maiestie (warme Life, As now it coldly stands) when first I woo'd her.
I am asham'd: Do's not the Stone rebuke me, For being more Stone then
it? Oh Royall Peece: There's Magick in thy Maiestie, which ha's My
Euils coniur'd to remembrance; and

From thy admiring Daughter tooke the Spirits, Standing like Stone with
thee

Perd. And giue me leaue,

And doe not say 'tis Superstition, that

I kneele, and then implore her Blessing. Lady, Deere Queene, that ended
when I but began, Giue me that hand of yours, to kisse

Paul. O, patience:

The Statue is but newly fix'd; the Colour's Not dry

Cam. My Lord, your Sorrow was too sore lay'd-on, Which sixteene
Winters cannot blow away,

So many Summers dry: scarce any Ioy

Did euer so long liue; no Sorrow,

But kill'd it selfe much sooner

Pol. Deere my Brother,

Let him, that was the cause of this, haue powre To take-off so much
griefe from you, as he Will peece vp in himselfe

Paul. Indeed my Lord,

If I had thought the sight of my poore Image Would thus haue wrought
you (for the Stone is mine) Il'd not haue shew'd it

Leo. Doe not draw the Curtaine

Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't, least your Fancie May thinke
anon, it moues

Leo. Let be, let be:

Would I were dead, but that me thinkes alreadie. (What was he that did
make it?) See (my Lord) Would you not deeme it breath'd? and that those
veines Did verily beare blood?

Pol. 'Masterly done:

The very Life seemes warme vpon her Lippe

Leo. The fixure of her Eye ha's motion in't, As we are mock'd with
Art

Paul. Ile draw the Curtaine:

My Lord's almost so farre transported, that Hee'le thinke anon it
liues

Leo. Oh sweet Paulina,

Make me to thinke so twentie yeeres together: No setled Sences of the
World can match

The pleasure of that madnesse. Let't alone

Paul. I am sorry (Sir) I haue thus farre stir'd you: but I could
afflict you farther

Leo. Doe Paulina:

For this Affliction ha's a taste as sweet As any Cordiall comfort.
Still me thinkes There is an ayre comes from her. What fine Chizzell
Could euer yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, For I will kisse her

Paul. Good my Lord, forbeare:

The ruddinesse vpon her Lippe, is wet:

You'le marre it, if you kisse it; stayne your owne With Oyly Painting:
shall I draw the Curtaine

Leo. No: not these twentie yeeres

Perd. So long could I

Stand-by, a looker-on

Paul. Either forbeare,

Quit presently the Chappell, or resolue you For more amazement: if you
can behold it, Ile make the Statue moue indeed; descend, And take you
by the hand: but then you'le thinke (Which I protest against) I am
assisted

By wicked Powers

Leo. What you can make her doe,

I am content to looke on: what to speake, I am content to heare: for
'tis as easie

To make her speake, as moue

Paul. It is requir'd

You doe awake your Faith: then, all stand still: On: those that thinke
it is vnlawfull Businesse I am about, let them depart

Leo. Proceed:

No foot shall stirre

Paul. Musick; awake her: Strike:

'Tis time: descend: be Stone no more: approach: Strike all that looke
vpon with meruaile: Come: Ile fill your Graue vp: stirre: nay, come
away: Bequeath to Death your numnesse: (for from him, Deare Life
redeemes you) you perceiue she stirres: Start not: her Actions shall be
holy, as

You heare my Spell is lawfull: doe not shun her, Vntill you see her dye
againe; for then

You kill her double: Nay, present your Hand: When she was young, you
woo'd her: now, in age, Is she become the Suitor?

Leo. Oh, she's warme:

If this be Magick, let it be an Art

Lawfull as Eating

Pol. She embraces him

Cam. She hangs about his necke,

If she pertaine to life, let her speake too

Pol. I, and make it manifest where she ha's liu'd, Or how stolne
from the dead?

Paul. That she is liuing,

Were it but told you, should be hooted at Like an old Tale: but it
appeares she liues, Though yet she speake not. Marke a little while:
Please you to interpose (faire Madam) kneele, And pray your Mothers
blessing: turne good Lady, Our Perdita is found

Her. You Gods looke downe,

And from your sacred Viols poure your graces Vpon my daughters head:
Tell me (mine owne) Where hast thou bin preseru'd? Where liu'd? How
found Thy Fathers Court? For thou shalt heare that I Knowing by
Paulina, that the Oracle

Gaue hope thou wast in being, haue preseru'd My selfe, to see the
yssue

Paul. There's time enough for that,

Least they desire (vpon this push) to trouble Your ioyes, with like
Relation. Go together You precious winners all: your exultation Partake
to euery one: I (an old Turtle)

Will wing me to some wither'd bough, and there My Mate (that's neuer to
be found againe) Lament, till I am lost

Leo. O peace Paulina:

Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, As I by thine a Wife. This
is a Match,

And made betweene's by Vowes. Thou hast found mine, But how, is to be
question'd: for I saw her (As I thought) dead: and haue (in vaine) said
many A prayer vpon her graue. Ile not seeke farre (For him, I partly
know his minde) to finde thee An honourable husband. Come Camillo,

And take her by the hand: whose worth, and honesty Is richly noted: and
heere iustified

By Vs, a paire of Kings. Let's from this place. What? looke vpon my
Brother: both your pardons, That ere I put betweene your holy lookes

My ill suspition: This your Son-in-law,

And Sonne vnto the King, whom heauens directing Is troth-plight to your
daughter. Good Paulina, Leade vs from hence, where we may leysurely
Each one demand, and answere to his part

Perform'd in this wide gap of Time, since first We were disseuer'd:
Hastily lead away.

Exeunt.



The Names of the Actors.

Leontes, King of Sicillia.

Mamillus, yong Prince of Sicillia.

Camillo.

Antigonus.

Cleomines.

Dion.

Foure

Lords of Sicillia.

Hermione, Queene to Leontes.

Perdita, Daughter to Leontes and Hermione.  Paulina, wife to
Antigonus.

Emilia, a Lady.

Polixenes, King of Bohemia.

Florizell, Prince of Bohemia.

Old Shepheard, reputed Father of Perdita.  Clowne, his Sonne.

Autolicus, a Rogue.

Archidamus, a Lord of Bohemia.

Other Lords, and Gentlemen, and Seruants.  Shepheards, and
Shephearddesses.

FINIS. The Winters Tale.



The life and death of King John

Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.

Enter King Iohn, Queene Elinor, Pembroke, Essex, and Salisbury, with
the

Chattylion of France.

King Iohn. Now say Chatillion, what would France with vs?   Chat.
Thus (after greeting) speakes the King of France,

In my behauiour to the Maiesty,

The borrowed Maiesty of England heere

Elea. A strange beginning: borrowed Maiesty?   K.Iohn. Silence (good
mother) heare the Embassie

Chat. Philip of France, in right and true behalfe Of thy deceased
brother, Geffreyes sonne, Arthur Plantaginet, laies most lawfull claime
To this faire Iland, and the Territories: To Ireland, Poyctiers,
Aniowe, Torayne, Maine, Desiring thee to lay aside the sword

Which swaies vsurpingly these seuerall titles, And put the same into
yong Arthurs hand,

Thy Nephew, and right royall Soueraigne

K.Iohn. What followes if we disallow of this?   Chat. The proud
controle of fierce and bloudy warre, To inforce these rights, so
forcibly with-held,   K.Io. Heere haue we war for war, & bloud for
bloud, Controlement for controlement: so answer France

Chat. Then take my Kings defiance from my mouth, The farthest limit
of my Embassie

K.Iohn. Beare mine to him, and so depart in peace, Be thou as
lightning in the eies of France; For ere thou canst report, I will be
there: The thunder of my Cannon shall be heard.

So hence: be thou the trumpet of our wrath, And sullen presage of your
owne decay:

An honourable conduct let him haue,

Pembroke looke too't: farewell Chattillion.

Exit Chat. and Pem.

Ele. What now my sonne, haue I not euer said How that ambitious
Constance would not cease Till she had kindled France and all the
world, Vpon the right and party of her sonne.

This might haue beene preuented, and made whole With very easie
arguments of loue,

Which now the mannage of two kingdomes must With fearefull bloudy issue
arbitrate

K.Iohn. Our strong possession, and our right for vs

Eli. Your strong possessio[n] much more then your right, Or else it
must go wrong with you and me, So much my conscience whispers in your
eare, Which none but heauen, and you, and I, shall heare. Enter a
Sheriffe.

Essex. My Liege, here is the strangest controuersie Come from the
Country to be iudg'd by you That ere I heard: shall I produce the men?
K.Iohn. Let them approach:

Our Abbies and our Priories shall pay

This expeditions charge: what men are you? Enter Robert Faulconbridge,
and Philip.

Philip. Your faithfull subiect, I a gentleman, Borne in
Northamptonshire, and eldest sonne As I suppose, to Robert
Faulconbridge,

A Souldier by the Honor-giuing-hand

Of Cordelion, Knighted in the field

K.Iohn. What art thou?

Robert. The son and heire to that same Faulconbridge

K.Iohn. Is that the elder, and art thou the heyre? You came not of
one mother then it seemes

Philip. Most certain of one mother, mighty King, That is well
knowne, and as I thinke one father: But for the certaine knowledge of
that truth, I put you o're to heauen, and to my mother; Of that I
doubt, as all mens children may

Eli. Out on thee rude man, y dost shame thy mother, And wound her
honor with this diffidence

Phil. I Madame? No, I haue no reason for it, That is my brothers
plea, and none of mine, The which if he can proue, a pops me out, At
least from faire fiue hundred pound a yeere: Heauen guard my mothers
honor, and my Land

K.Iohn. A good blunt fellow: why being yonger born Doth he lay
claime to thine inheritance?

Phil. I know not why, except to get the land: But once he slanderd me
with bastardy:

But where I be as true begot or no,

That still I lay vpon my mothers head,

But that I am as well begot my Liege

(Faire fall the bones that tooke the paines for me) Compare our faces,
and be Iudge your selfe If old Sir Robert did beget vs both,

And were our father, and this sonne like him: O old sir Robert Father,
on my knee

I giue heauen thankes I was not like to thee

K.Iohn. Why what a mad-cap hath heauen lent vs here?   Elen. He hath
a tricke of Cordelions face, The accent of his tongue affecteth him:

Doe you not read some tokens of my sonne

In the large composition of this man?

K.Iohn. Mine eye hath well examined his parts, And findes them
perfect Richard: sirra speake, What doth moue you to claime your
brothers land

Philip. Because he hath a half-face like my father? With halfe that
face would he haue all my land, A halfe-fac'd groat, fiue hundred pound
a yeere?   Rob. My gracious Liege, when that my father liu'd, Your
brother did imploy my father much

Phil. Well sir, by this you cannot get my land, Your tale must be
how he employ'd my mother

Rob. And once dispatch'd him in an Embassie To Germany, there with
the Emperor

To treat of high affaires touching that time: Th' aduantage of his
absence tooke the King, And in the meane time soiourn'd at my fathers;
Where how he did preuaile, I shame to speake: But truth is truth, large
lengths of seas and shores Betweene my father, and my mother lay,

As I haue heard my father speake himselfe When this same lusty
gentleman was got:

Vpon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd

His lands to me, and tooke it on his death That this my mothers sonne
was none of his; And if he were, he came into the world

Full fourteene weekes before the course of time: Then good my Liedge
let me haue what is mine, My fathers land, as was my fathers will

K.Iohn. Sirra, your brother is Legittimate, Your fathers wife did
after wedlocke beare him: And if she did play false, the fault was
hers, Which fault lyes on the hazards of all husbands That marry wiues:
tell me, how if my brother Who as you say, tooke paines to get this
sonne, Had of your father claim'd this sonne for his, Insooth, good
friend, your father might haue kept This Calfe, bred from his Cow from
all the world: Insooth he might: then if he were my brothers, My
brother might not claime him, nor your father Being none of his, refuse
him: this concludes, My mothers sonne did get your fathers heyre, Your
fathers heyre must haue your fathers land

Rob. Shal then my fathers Will be of no force, To dispossesse that
childe which is not his

Phil. Of no more force to dispossesse me sir, Then was his will to
get me, as I think

Eli. Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge, And like thy
brother to enioy thy land:

Or the reputed sonne of Cordelion,

Lord of thy presence, and no land beside

Bast. Madam, and if my brother had my shape And I had his, sir
Roberts his like him,

And if my legs were two such riding rods, My armes, such eele skins
stuft, my face so thin, That in mine eare I durst not sticke a rose,
Lest men should say, looke where three farthings goes, And to his shape
were heyre to all this land, Would I might neuer stirre from off this
place, I would giue it euery foot to haue this face: It would not be
sir nobbe in any case

Elinor. I like thee well: wilt thou forsake thy fortune, Bequeath
thy land to him, and follow me?

I am a Souldier, and now bound to France

Bast. Brother, take you my land, Ile take my chance; Your face hath
got fiue hundred pound a yeere, Yet sell your face for fiue pence and
'tis deere: Madam, Ile follow you vnto the death

Elinor. Nay, I would haue you go before me thither

Bast. Our Country manners giue our betters way

K.Iohn. What is thy name?

Bast. Philip my Liege, so is my name begun, Philip, good old Sir
Roberts wiues eldest sonne

K.Iohn. From henceforth beare his name Whose forme thou bearest:

Kneele thou downe Philip, but rise more great, Arise Sir Richard, and
Plantagenet

Bast. Brother by th' mothers side, giue me your hand, My father gaue
me honor, yours gaue land: Now blessed be the houre by night or day

When I was got, Sir Robert was away

Ele. The very spirit of Plantaginet:

I am thy grandame Richard, call me so

Bast. Madam by chance, but not by truth, what tho; Something about a
little from the right,

In at the window, or else ore the hatch:

Who dares not stirre by day, must walke by night, And haue is haue, how
euer men doe catch: Neere or farre off, well wonne is still well shot,
And I am I, how ere I was begot

K.Iohn. Goe, Faulconbridge, now hast thou thy desire, A landlesse
Knight, makes thee a landed Squire: Come Madam, and come Richard, we
must speed For France, for France, for it is more then need

Bast. Brother adieu, good fortune come to thee, For thou wast got
i'th way of honesty.

Exeunt. all but bastard.

Bast. A foot of Honor better then I was, But many a many foot of Land
the worse.

Well, now can I make any Ioane a Lady,

Good den Sir Richard, Godamercy fellow,

And if his name be George, Ile call him Peter; For new made honor doth
forget mens names: 'Tis two respectiue, and too sociable

For your conuersion, now your traueller,

Hee and his tooth-picke at my worships messe, And when my knightly
stomacke is suffis'd, Why then I sucke my teeth, and catechize

My picked man of Countries: my deare sir, Thus leaning on mine elbow I
begin,

I shall beseech you; that is question now, And then comes answer like
an Absey booke: O sir, sayes answer, at your best command, At your
employment, at your seruice sir:

No sir, saies question, I sweet sir at yours, And so ere answer knowes
what question would, Sauing in Dialogue of Complement,

And talking of the Alpes and Appenines,

The Perennean and the riuer Poe,

It drawes toward supper in conclusion so. But this is worshipfull
society,

And fits the mounting spirit like my selfe; For he is but a bastard to
the time

That doth not smoake of obseruation,

And so am I whether I smacke or no:

And not alone in habit and deuice,

Exterior forme, outward accoutrement;

But from the inward motion to deliuer

Sweet, sweet, sweet poyson for the ages tooth, Which though I will not
practice to deceiue, Yet to auoid deceit I meane to learne;

For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising: But who comes in such
haste in riding robes? What woman post is this? hath she no husband
That will take paines to blow a horne before her? O me, 'tis my mother:
how now good Lady,

What brings you heere to Court so hastily? Enter Lady Faulconbridge and
Iames Gurney.

Lady. Where is that slaue thy brother? where is he? That holds in
chase mine honour vp and downe

Bast. My brother Robert, old Sir Roberts sonne: Colbrand the Gyant,
that same mighty man, Is it Sir Roberts sonne that you seeke so? Lady.
Sir Roberts sonne, I thou vnreuerend boy, Sir Roberts sonne? why
scorn'st thou at sir Robert? He is Sir Roberts sonne, and so art thou

Bast. Iames Gournie, wilt thou giue vs leaue a while?   Gour. Good
leaue good Philip

Bast. Philip, sparrow, Iames,

There's toyes abroad, anon Ile tell thee more.

Exit Iames.

Madam, I was not old Sir Roberts sonne,

Sir Robert might haue eat his part in me

Vpon good Friday, and nere broke his fast: Sir Robert could doe well,
marrie to confesse Could get me sir Robert could not doe it; We know
his handy-worke, therefore good mother To whom am I beholding for these
limmes?

Sir Robert neuer holpe to make this legge

Lady. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too, That for thine owne
gaine shouldst defend mine honor? What meanes this scorne, thou most
vntoward knaue?   Bast. Knight, knight good mother, Basilisco-like:
What, I am dub'd, I haue it on my shoulder: But mother, I am not Sir
Roberts sonne,

I haue disclaim'd Sir Robert and my land, Legitimation, name, and all
is gone;

Then good my mother, let me know my father, Some proper man I hope, who
was it mother?   Lady. Hast thou denied thy selfe a Faulconbridge?
Bast. As faithfully as I denie the deuill

Lady. King Richard Cordelion was thy father, By long and vehement
suit I was seduc'd

To make roome for him in my husbands bed: Heauen lay not my
transgression to my charge, That art the issue of my deere offence

Which was so strongly vrg'd past my defence

Bast. Now by this light were I to get againe, Madam I would not wish
a better father:

Some sinnes doe beare their priuiledge on earth, And so doth yours:
your fault, was not your follie, Needs must you lay your heart at his
dispose, Subiected tribute to commanding loue,

Against whose furie and vnmatched force,

The awlesse Lion could not wage the fight, Nor keepe his Princely heart
from Richards hand: He that perforce robs Lions of their hearts, May
easily winne a womans: aye my mother, With all my heart I thanke thee
for my father: Who liues and dares but say, thou didst not well When I
was got, Ile send his soule to hell. Come Lady I will shew thee to my
kinne,

And they shall say, when Richard me begot, If thou hadst sayd him nay,
it had beene sinne; Who sayes it was, he lyes, I say twas not.

Exeunt.



Scaena Secunda.

Enter before Angiers, Philip King of France, Lewis, Daulphin, Austria,

Constance, Arthur.

Lewis. Before Angiers well met braue Austria, Arthur that great
fore-runner of thy bloud, Richard that rob'd the Lion of his heart, And
fought the holy Warres in Palestine,

By this braue Duke came early to his graue: And for amends to his
posteritie,

At our importance hether is he come,

To spread his colours boy, in thy behalfe, And to rebuke the
vsurpation

Of thy vnnaturall Vncle, English Iohn,

Embrace him, loue him, giue him welcome hether

Arth. God shall forgiue you Cordelions death The rather, that you
giue his off-spring life, Shadowing their right vnder your wings of
warre: I giue you welcome with a powerlesse hand, But with a heart full
of vnstained loue,

Welcome before the gates Angiers Duke

Lewis. A noble boy, who would not doe thee right?   Aust. Vpon thy
cheeke lay I this zelous kisse, As seale to this indenture of my loue:

That to my home I will no more returne

Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France, Together with that
pale, that white-fac'd shore, Whose foot spurnes backe the Oceans
roaring tides, And coopes from other lands her Ilanders, Euen till that
England hedg'd in with the maine, That Water-walled Bulwarke, still
secure

And confident from forreine purposes,

Euen till that vtmost corner of the West

Salute thee for her King, till then faire boy Will I not thinke of
home, but follow Armes

Const. O take his mothers thanks, a widdows thanks, Till your strong
hand shall helpe to giue him strength, To make a more requitall to your
loue

Aust. The peace of heauen is theirs y lift their swords In such a
iust and charitable warre

King. Well, then to worke our Cannon shall be bent Against the
browes of this resisting towne, Call for our cheefest men of
discipline,

To cull the plots of best aduantages:

Wee'll lay before this towne our Royal bones, Wade to the market-place
in French-mens bloud, But we will make it subiect to this boy

Con. Stay for an answer to your Embassie, Lest vnaduis'd you staine
your swords with bloud, My Lord Chattilion may from England bring That
right in peace which heere we vrge in warre, And then we shall repent
each drop of bloud, That hot rash haste so indirectly shedde. Enter
Chattilion.

King. A wonder Lady: lo vpon thy wish

Our Messenger Chattilion is arriu'd,

What England saies, say breefely gentle Lord, We coldly pause for thee,
Chatilion speake,   Chat. Then turne your forces from this paltry
siege, And stirre them vp against a mightier taske: England impatient
of your iust demands,

Hath put himselfe in Armes, the aduerse windes Whose leisure I haue
staid, haue giuen him time To land his Legions all as soone as I:

His marches are expedient to this towne,

His forces strong, his Souldiers confident: With him along is come the
Mother Queene, An Ace stirring him to bloud and strife,

With her her Neece, the Lady Blanch of Spaine, With them a Bastard of
the Kings deceast, And all th' vnsetled humors of the Land,

Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,

With Ladies faces, and fierce Dragons spleenes, Haue sold their
fortunes at their natiue homes, Bearing their birth-rights proudly on
their backs, To make a hazard of new fortunes heere:

In briefe, a brauer choyse of dauntlesse spirits Then now the English
bottomes haue waft o're, Did neuer flote vpon the swelling tide,

To doe offence and scathe in Christendome: The interruption of their
churlish drums

Cuts off more circumstance, they are at hand,

Drum beats.

To parlie or to fight, therefore prepare

Kin. How much vnlook'd for, is this expedition

Aust. By how much vnexpected, by so much We must awake indeuor for
defence,

For courage mounteth with occasion,

Let them be welcome then, we are prepar'd. Enter K[ing]. of England,
Bastard, Queene, Blanch, Pembroke, and others.

K.Iohn. Peace be to France: If France in peace permit Our iust and
lineall entrance to our owne; If not, bleede France, and peace ascend
to heauen. Whiles we Gods wrathfull agent doe correct Their proud
contempt that beats his peace to heauen

Fran. Peace be to England, if that warre returne From France to
England, there to liue in peace: England we loue, and for that Englands
sake, With burden of our armor heere we sweat:

This toyle of ours should be a worke of thine; But thou from louing
England art so farre, That thou hast vnder-wrought his lawfull King,
Cut off the sequence of posterity,

Out-faced Infant State, and done a rape

Vpon the maiden vertue of the Crowne:

Looke heere vpon thy brother Geffreyes face, These eyes, these browes,
were moulded out of his; This little abstract doth containe that large,
Which died in Geffrey: and the hand of time, Shall draw this breefe
into as huge a volume: That Geffrey was thy elder brother borne, And
this his sonne, England was Geffreys right, And this is Geffreyes in
the name of God: How comes it then that thou art call'd a King, When
liuing blood doth in these temples beat Which owe the crowne, that thou
ore-masterest?   K.Iohn. From whom hast thou this great commission
France, To draw my answer from thy Articles?

Fra. Fro[m] that supernal Iudge that stirs good thoughts In any
breast of strong authoritie,

To looke into the blots and staines of right, That Iudge hath made me
guardian to this boy, Vnder whose warrant I impeach thy wrong,

And by whose helpe I meane to chastise it

K.Iohn. Alack thou dost vsurpe authoritie

Fran. Excuse it is to beat vsurping downe

Queen. Who is it thou dost call vsurper France?   Const. Let me make
answer: thy vsurping sonne

Queen. Out insolent, thy bastard shall be King, That thou maist be a
Queen, and checke the world

Con. My bed was euer to thy sonne as true As thine was to thy
husband, and this boy Liker in feature to his father Geffrey

Then thou and Iohn, in manners being as like, As raine to water, or
deuill to his damme; My boy a bastard? by my soule I thinke

His father neuer was so true begot,

It cannot be, and if thou wert his mother

Queen. Theres a good mother boy, that blots thy father   Const.
There's a good grandame boy

That would blot thee

Aust. Peace

Bast. Heare the Cryer

Aust. What the deuill art thou?

Bast. One that wil play the deuill sir with you, And a may catch your
hide and you alone:

You are the Hare of whom the Prouerb goes Whose valour plucks dead
Lyons by the beard; Ile smoake your skin-coat and I catch you right,
Sirra looke too't, yfaith I will, yfaith

Blan. O well did he become that Lyons robe, That did disrobe the
Lion of that robe

Bast. It lies as sightly on the backe of him As great Alcides shooes
vpon an Asse:

But Asse, Ile take that burthen from your backe, Or lay on that shall
make your shoulders cracke

Aust. What cracker is this same that deafes our eares With this
abundance of superfluous breath? King Lewis, determine what we shall
doe strait

Lew. Women & fooles, breake off your conference. King Iohn, this is
the very summe of all: England and Ireland, Angiers, Toraine, Maine, In
right of Arthur doe I claime of thee:

Wilt thou resigne them, and lay downe thy Armes?   Iohn. My life as
soone: I doe defie thee France, Arthur of Britaine, yeeld thee to my
hand, And out of my deere loue Ile giue thee more, Then ere the coward
hand of France can win; Submit thee boy

Queen. Come to thy grandame child

Cons. Doe childe, goe to yt grandame childe, Giue grandame kingdome,
and it grandame will Giue yt a plum, a cherry, and a figge,

There's a good grandame

Arthur. Good my mother peace,

I would that I were low laid in my graue, I am not worth this coyle
that's made for me

Qu.Mo. His mother shames him so, poore boy hee weepes

Con. Now shame vpon you where she does or no, His grandames wrongs,
and not his mothers shames Drawes those heauen-mouing pearles fro[m]
his poor eies, Which heauen shall take in nature of a fee: I, with
these Christall beads heauen shall be brib'd To doe him Iustice, and
reuenge on you

Qu. Thou monstrous slanderer of heauen and earth

Con. Thou monstrous Iniurer of heauen and earth, Call not me
slanderer, thou and thine vsurpe The Dominations, Royalties, and
rights

Of this oppressed boy; this is thy eldest sonnes sonne, Infortunate in
nothing but in thee:

Thy sinnes are visited in this poore childe, The Canon of the Law is
laide on him,

Being but the second generation

Remoued from thy sinne-conceiuing wombe

Iohn. Bedlam haue done

Con. I haue but this to say,

That he is not onely plagued for her sin, But God hath made her sinne
and her, the plague On this remoued issue, plagued for her,

And with her plague her sinne: his iniury Her iniurie the Beadle to her
sinne,

All punish'd in the person of this childe, And all for her, a plague
vpon her

Que. Thou vnaduised scold, I can produce A Will, that barres the
title of thy sonne

Con. I who doubts that, a Will: a wicked will, A womans will, a
cankred Grandams will

Fra. Peace Lady, pause, or be more temperate, It ill beseemes this
presence to cry ayme To these ill-tuned repetitions:

Some Trumpet summon hither to the walles

These men of Angiers, let vs heare them speake, Whose title they admit,
Arthurs or Iohns.

Trumpet sounds. Enter a Citizen vpon the walles.

Cit. Who is it that hath warn'd vs to the walles?   Fra. 'Tis France,
for England

Iohn. England for it selfe:

You men of Angiers, and my louing subiects

Fra. You louing men of Angiers, Arthurs subiects, Our Trumpet call'd
you to this gentle parle

Iohn. For our aduantage, therefore heare vs first: These flagges of
France that are aduanced heere Before the eye and prospect of your
Towne, Haue hither march'd to your endamagement. The Canons haue their
bowels full of wrath, And ready mounted are they to spit forth

Their Iron indignation 'gainst your walles: All preparation for a
bloody siedge

And merciles proceeding, by these French. Comfort your Citties eies,
your winking gates: And but for our approch, those sleeping stones,
That as a waste doth girdle you about

By the compulsion of their Ordinance,

By this time from their fixed beds of lime Had bin dishabited, and wide
hauocke made For bloody power to rush vppon your peace. But on the
sight of vs your lawfull King, Who painefully with much expedient
march

Haue brought a counter-checke before your gates, To saue vnscratch'd
your Citties threatned cheekes: Behold the French amaz'd vouchsafe a
parle, And now insteed of bulletts wrapt in fire To make a shaking
feuer in your walles,

They shoote but calme words, folded vp in smoake, To make a faithlesse
errour in your eares, Which trust accordingly kinde Cittizens,

And let vs in. Your King, whose labour'd spirits Fore-wearied in this
action of swift speede, Craues harbourage within your Citie walles

France. When I haue saide, make answer to vs both. Loe in this right
hand, whose protection

Is most diuinely vow'd vpon the right

Of him it holds, stands yong Plantagenet, Sonne to the elder brother of
this man,

And King ore him, and all that he enioyes: For this downe-troden
equity, we tread

In warlike march, these greenes before your Towne, Being no further
enemy to you

Then the constraint of hospitable zeale,

In the releefe of this oppressed childe,

Religiously prouokes. Be pleased then

To pay that dutie which you truly owe,

To him that owes it, namely, this yong Prince, And then our Armes, like
to a muzled Beare, Saue in aspect, hath all offence seal'd vp: Our
Cannons malice vainly shall be spent

Against th' involnerable clouds of heauen, And with a blessed and
vn-vext retyre,

With vnhack'd swords, and Helmets all vnbruis'd, We will beare home
that lustie blood againe, Which heere we came to spout against your
Towne, And leaue your children, wiues, and you in peace. But if you
fondly passe our proffer'd offer, 'Tis not the rounder of your
old-fac'd walles, Can hide you from our messengers of Warre, Though all
these English, and their discipline Were harbour'd in their rude
circumference: Then tell vs, Shall your Citie call vs Lord, In that
behalfe which we haue challeng'd it? Or shall we giue the signall to
our rage, And stalke in blood to our possession?

Cit. In breefe, we are the King of Englands subiects For him, and in
his right, we hold this Towne

Iohn. Acknowledge then the King, and let me in

Cit. That can we not: but he that proues the King To him will we
proue loyall, till that time Haue we ramm'd vp our gates against the
world

Iohn. Doth not the Crowne of England, prooue the King?

And if not that, I bring you Witnesses

Twice fifteene thousand hearts of Englands breed

Bast. Bastards and else

Iohn. To verifie our title with their liues

Fran. As many and as well-borne bloods as those

Bast. Some Bastards too

Fran. Stand in his face to contradict his claime

Cit. Till you compound whose right is worthiest, We for the
worthiest hold the right from both

Iohn. Then God forgiue the sinne of all those soules, That to their
euerlasting residence,

Before the dew of euening fall, shall fleete In dreadfull triall of our
kingdomes King

Fran. Amen, Amen, mount Cheualiers to Armes

Bast. Saint George that swindg'd the Dragon, And ere since sit's
on's horsebacke at mine Hostesse dore Teach vs some sence. Sirrah, were
I at home At your den sirrah, with your Lionnesse,

I would set an Oxe-head to your Lyons hide: And make a monster of you

Aust. Peace, no more

Bast. O tremble: for you heare the Lyon rore

Iohn. Vp higher to the plaine, where we'l set forth In best
appointment all our Regiments

Bast. Speed then to take aduantage of the field

Fra. It shall be so, and at the other hill Command the rest to
stand, God and our right.

Exeunt.

Heere after excursions, Enter the Herald of France with Trumpets to
the

gates.

F.Her. You men of Angiers open wide your gates, And let yong Arthur
Duke of Britaine in,

Who by the hand of France, this day hath made Much worke for teares in
many an English mother, Whose sonnes lye scattered on the bleeding
ground: Many a widdowes husband groueling lies,

Coldly embracing the discoloured earth,

And victorie with little losse doth play

Vpon the dancing banners of the French,

Who are at hand triumphantly displayed

To enter Conquerors, and to proclaime

Arthur of Britaine, Englands King, and yours. Enter English Herald with
Trumpet.

E.Har. Reioyce you men of Angiers, ring your bels, King Iohn, your
king and Englands, doth approach, Commander of this hot malicious day,

Their Armours that march'd hence so siluer bright, Hither returne all
gilt with Frenchmens blood: There stucke no plume in any English Crest,
That is remoued by a staffe of France.

Our colours do returne in those same hands That did display them when
we first marcht forth: And like a iolly troope of Huntsmen come

Our lustie English, all with purpled hands, Dide in the dying slaughter
of their foes, Open your gates, and giue the Victors way

Hubert. Heralds, from off our towres we might behold From first to
last, the on-set and retyre: Of both your Armies, whose equality

By our best eyes cannot be censured:

Blood hath bought blood, and blowes haue answerd blowes: Strength
matcht with strength, and power confronted power,

Both are alike, and both alike we like:

One must proue greatest. While they weigh so euen, We hold our Towne
for neither: yet for both. Enter the two Kings with their powers, at
seuerall doores.

Iohn. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away? Say, shall the
currant of our right rome on, Whose passage vext with thy impediment,

Shall leaue his natiue channell, and ore-swell With course disturb'd
euen thy confining shores, Vnlesse thou let his siluer Water, keepe

A peacefull progresse to the Ocean

Fra. England thou hast not sau'd one drop of blood In this hot
triall more then we of France, Rather lost more. And by this hand I
sweare That swayes the earth this Climate ouer-lookes, Before we will
lay downe our iust-borne Armes, Wee'l put thee downe, 'gainst whom
these Armes wee beare, Or adde a royall number to the dead:

Gracing the scroule that tels of this warres losse, With slaughter
coupled to the name of kings

Bast. Ha Maiesty: how high thy glory towres, When the rich blood of
kings is set on fire: Oh now doth death line his dead chaps with
steele, The swords of souldiers are his teeth, his phangs, And now he
feasts, mousing the flesh of men In vndetermin'd differences of kings.

Why stand these royall fronts amazed thus: Cry hauocke kings, backe to
the stained field You equall Potents, fierie kindled spirits, Then let
confusion of one part confirm

The others peace: till then, blowes, blood, and death

Iohn. Whose party do the Townesmen yet admit?   Fra. Speake Citizens
for England, whose your king

Hub. The king of England, when we know the king

Fra. Know him in vs, that heere hold vp his right

Iohn. In Vs, that are our owne great Deputie, And beare possession
of our Person heere, Lord of our presence Angiers, and of you

Fra. A greater powre then We denies all this, And till it be
vndoubted, we do locke

Our former scruple in our strong barr'd gates: Kings of our feare,
vntill our feares resolu'd Be by some certaine king, purg'd and
depos'd

Bast. By heauen, these scroyles of Angiers flout you kings, And
stand securely on their battelments,

As in a Theater, whence they gape and point At your industrious Scenes
and acts of death. Your Royall presences be rul'd by mee,

Do like the Mutines of Ierusalem,

Be friends a-while, and both conioyntly bend Your sharpest Deeds of
malice on this Towne. By East and West let France and England mount.
Their battering Canon charged to the mouthes, Till their soule-fearing
clamours haue braul'd downe The flintie ribbes of this contemptuous
Citie, I'de play incessantly vpon these Iades,

Euen till vnfenced desolation

Leaue them as naked as the vulgar ayre:

That done, disseuer your vnited strengths, And part your mingled
colours once againe, Turne face to face, and bloody point to point:
Then in a moment Fortune shall cull forth Out of one side her happy
Minion,

To whom in fauour she shall giue the day, And kisse him with a glorious
victory:

How like you this wilde counsell mighty States, Smackes it not
something of the policie

Iohn. Now by the sky that hangs aboue our heads, I like it well.
France, shall we knit our powres, And lay this Angiers euen with the
ground, Then after fight who shall be king of it?   Bast. And if thou
hast the mettle of a king, Being wrong'd as we are by this peeuish
Towne: Turne thou the mouth of thy Artillerie,

As we will ours, against these sawcie walles, And when that we haue
dash'd them to the ground, Why then defie each other, and pell-mell,
Make worke vpon our selues, for heauen or hell

Fra. Let it be so: say, where will you assault?   Iohn. We from the
West will send destruction Into this Cities bosome

Aust. I from the North

Fran. Our Thunder from the South,

Shall raine their drift of bullets on this Towne

Bast. O prudent discipline! From North to South: Austria and France
shoot in each others mouth. Ile stirre them to it: Come, away, away

Hub. Heare vs great kings, vouchsafe awhile to stay And I shall shew
you peace, and faire-fac'd league: Win you this Citie without stroke,
or wound, Rescue those breathing liues to dye in beds, That heere come
sacrifices for the field. Perseuer not, but heare me mighty kings

Iohn. Speake on with fauour, we are bent to heare

Hub. That daughter there of Spaine, the Lady Blanch Is neere to
England, looke vpon the yeeres Of Lewes the Dolphin, and that louely
maid. If lustie loue should go in quest of beautie, Where should he
finde it fairer, then in Blanch: If zealous loue should go in search of
vertue, Where should he finde it purer then in Blanch? If loue
ambitious, sought a match of birth, Whose veines bound richer blood
then Lady Blanch? Such as she is, in beautie, vertue, birth, Is the
yong Dolphin euery way compleat,

If not compleat of, say he is not shee,

And she againe wants nothing, to name want, If want it be not, that she
is not hee.

He is the halfe part of a blessed man,

Left to be finished by such as shee,

And she a faire diuided excellence,

Whose fulnesse of perfection lyes in him. O two such siluer currents
when they ioyne Do glorifie the bankes that bound them in: And two such
shores, to two such streames made one, Two such controlling bounds
shall you be, kings, To these two Princes, if you marrie them: This
Vnion shall do more then batterie can To our fast closed gates: for at
this match, With swifter spleene then powder can enforce The mouth of
passage shall we fling wide ope, And giue you entrance: but without
this match, The sea enraged is not halfe so deafe,

Lyons more confident, Mountaines and rockes More free from motion, no
not death himselfe In mortall furie halfe so peremptorie,

As we to keepe this Citie

Bast. Heeres a stay,

That shakes the rotten carkasse of old death Out of his ragges. Here's
a large mouth indeede, That spits forth death, and mountaines, rockes,
and seas, Talkes as familiarly of roaring Lyons,

As maids of thirteene do of puppi-dogges. What Cannoneere begot this
lustie blood,

He speakes plaine Cannon fire, and smoake, and bounce, He giues the
bastinado with his tongue:

Our eares are cudgel'd, not a word of his But buffets better then a
fist of France: Zounds, I was neuer so bethumpt with words, Since I
first cal'd my brothers father Dad

Old Qu. Son, list to this coniunction, make this match Giue with our
Neece a dowrie large enough, For by this knot, thou shalt so surely tye
Thy now vnsur'd assurance to the Crowne,

That yon greene boy shall haue no Sunne to ripe The bloome that
promiseth a mightie fruite. I see a yeelding in the lookes of France:
Marke how they whisper, vrge them while their soules Are capeable of
this ambition,

Least zeale now melted by the windie breath Of soft petitions, pittie
and remorse,

Coole and congeale againe to what it was

Hub. Why answer not the double Maiesties, This friendly treatie of
our threatned Towne

Fra. Speake England first, that hath bin forward first To speake
vnto this Cittie: what say you?   Iohn. If that the Dolphin there thy
Princely sonne, Can in this booke of beautie read, I loue: Her Dowrie
shall weigh equall with a Queene: For Angiers, and faire Toraine Maine,
Poyctiers, And all that we vpon this side the Sea,

(Except this Cittie now by vs besiedg'd)

Finde liable to our Crowne and Dignitie,

Shall gild her bridall bed and make her rich In titles, honors, and
promotions,

As she in beautie, education, blood,

Holdes hand with any Princesse of the world

Fra. What sai'st thou boy? looke in the Ladies face

Dol. I do my Lord, and in her eie I find A wonder, or a wondrous
miracle,

The shadow of my selfe form'd in her eye, Which being but the shadow of
your sonne, Becomes a sonne and makes your sonne a shadow: I do protest
I neuer lou'd my selfe

Till now, infixed I beheld my selfe,

Drawne in the flattering table of her eie.

Whispers with Blanch.

Bast. Drawne in the flattering table of her eie, Hang'd in the
frowning wrinkle of her brow, And quarter'd in her heart, hee doth
espie Himselfe loues traytor, this is pittie now; That hang'd, and
drawne, and quarter'd there should be In such a loue, so vile a Lout as
he

Blan. My vnckles will in this respect is mine, If he see ought in
you that makes him like, That any thing he see's which moues his
liking, I can with ease translate it to my will:

Or if you will, to speake more properly,

I will enforce it easlie to my loue.

Further I will not flatter you, my Lord,

That all I see in you is worthie loue,

Then this, that nothing do I see in you,

Though churlish thoughts themselues should bee your Iudge,

That I can finde, should merit any hate

Iohn. What saie these yong-ones? What say you my Neece?

Blan. That she is bound in honor still to do What you in wisedome
still vouchsafe to say

Iohn. Speake then Prince Dolphin, can you loue this Ladie?

Dol. Nay aske me if I can refraine from loue, For I doe loue her most
vnfainedly

Iohn. Then I doe giue Volquessen, Toraine, Maine, Poyctiers and
Aniow, these fiue Prouinces With her to thee, and this addition more,
Full thirty thousand Markes of English coyne: Phillip of France, if
thou be pleas'd withall, Command thy sonne and daughter to ioyne hands

Fra. It likes vs well young Princes: close your hands   Aust. And
your lippes too, for I am well assur'd, That I did so when I was first
assur'd

Fra. Now Cittizens of Angires ope your gates, Let in that amitie
which you haue made,

For at Saint Maries Chappell presently,

The rights of marriage shallbe solemniz'd. Is not the Ladie Constance
in this troope? I know she is not for this match made vp, Her presence
would haue interrupted much. Where is she and her sonne, tell me, who
knowes?   Dol. She is sad and passionate at your highnes Tent

Fra. And by my faith, this league that we haue made Will giue her
sadnesse very little cure:

Brother of England, how may we content

This widdow Lady? In her right we came,

Which we God knowes, haue turn'd another way, To our owne vantage

Iohn. We will heale vp all,

For wee'l create yong Arthur Duke of Britaine And Earle of Richmond,
and this rich faire Towne We make him Lord of. Call the Lady Constance,
Some speedy Messenger bid her repaire

To our solemnity: I trust we shall,

(If not fill vp the measure of her will)

Yet in some measure satisfie her so,

That we shall stop her exclamation,

Go we as well as hast will suffer vs,

To this vnlook'd for vnprepared pompe.

Exeunt.

Bast. Mad world, mad kings, mad composition: Iohn to stop Arthurs
Title in the whole,

Hath willingly departed with a part,

And France, whose armour Conscience buckled on, Whom zeale and charitie
brought to the field, As Gods owne souldier, rounded in the eare, With
that same purpose-changer, that slye diuel, That Broker, that still
breakes the pate of faith, That dayly breake-vow, he that winnes of
all, Of kings, of beggers, old men, yong men, maids, Who hauing no
externall thing to loose,

But the word Maid, cheats the poore Maide of that. That smooth-fac'd
Gentleman, tickling commoditie, Commoditie, the byas of the world,

The world, who of it selfe is peysed well, Made to run euen, vpon euen
ground;

Till this aduantage, this vile drawing byas, This sway of motion, this
commoditie,

Makes it take head from all indifferency, From all direction, purpose,
course, intent. And this same byas, this Commoditie,

This Bawd, this Broker, this all-changing-word, Clap'd on the outward
eye of fickle France, Hath drawne him from his owne determin'd ayd,
From a resolu'd and honourable warre,

To a most base and vile-concluded peace.

And why rayle I on this Commoditie?

But for because he hath not wooed me yet: Not that I haue the power to
clutch my hand, When his faire Angels would salute my palme, But for my
hand, as vnattempted yet,

Like a poore begger, raileth on the rich. Well, whiles I am a begger, I
will raile, And say there is no sin but to be rich:

And being rich, my vertue then shall be,

To say there is no vice, but beggerie:

Since Kings breake faith vpon commoditie, Gaine be my Lord, for I will
worship thee. Enter.



Actus Secundus

Enter Constance, Arthur, and Salisbury.

Con. Gone to be married? Gone to sweare a peace? False blood to false
blood ioyn'd. Gone to be freinds? Shall Lewis haue Blaunch, and Blaunch
those Prouinces? It is not so, thou hast mispoke, misheard, Be well
aduis'd, tell ore thy tale againe. It cannot be, thou do'st but say
'tis so. I trust I may not trust thee, for thy word Is but the vaine
breath of a common man:

Beleeue me, I doe not beleeue thee man,

I haue a Kings oath to the contrarie.

Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me, For I am sicke, and
capeable of feares,

Opprest with wrongs, and therefore full of feares, A widdow,
husbandles, subiect to feares,

A woman naturally borne to feares;

And though thou now confesse thou didst but iest With my vext spirits,
I cannot take a Truce, But they will quake and tremble all this day.
What dost thou meane by shaking of thy head? Why dost thou looke so
sadly on my sonne? What meanes that hand vpon that breast of thine? Why
holdes thine eie that lamentable rhewme, Like a proud riuer peering ore
his bounds? Be these sad signes confirmers of thy words? Then speake
againe, not all thy former tale, But this one word, whether thy tale be
true

Sal. As true as I beleeue you thinke them false, That giue you cause
to proue my saying true

Con. Oh if thou teach me to beleeue this sorrow, Teach thou this
sorrow, how to make me dye, And let beleefe, and life encounter so,

As doth the furie of two desperate men,

Which in the very meeting fall, and dye.

Lewes marry Blaunch? O boy, then where art thou? France friend with
England, what becomes of me? Fellow be gone: I cannot brooke thy sight,
This newes hath made thee a most vgly man

Sal. What other harme haue I good Lady done, But spoke the harme,
that is by others done?   Con. Which harme within it selfe so heynous
is, As it makes harmefull all that speake of it

Ar. I do beseech you Madam be content

Con. If thou that bidst me be content, wert grim Vgly, and slandrous
to thy Mothers wombe, Full of vnpleasing blots, and sightlesse staines,
Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, Patch'd with foule Moles,
and eye-offending markes, I would not care, I then would be content,
For then I should not loue thee: no, nor thou Become thy great birth,
nor deserue a Crowne. But thou art faire, and at thy birth (deere boy)
Nature and Fortune ioyn'd to make thee great. Of Natures guifts, thou
mayst with Lillies boast, And with the halfe-blowne Rose. But Fortune,
oh, She is corrupted, chang'd, and wonne from thee, Sh' adulterates
hourely with thine Vnckle Iohn, And with her golden hand hath pluckt on
France To tread downe faire respect of Soueraigntie, And made his
Maiestie the bawd to theirs. France is a Bawd to Fortune, and king
Iohn, That strumpet Fortune, that vsurping Iohn: Tell me thou fellow,
is not France forsworne? Envenom him with words, or get thee gone, And
leaue those woes alone, which I alone Am bound to vnder-beare

Sal. Pardon me Madam,

I may not goe without you to the kings

Con. Thou maist, thou shalt, I will not go with thee, I will
instruct my sorrowes to bee proud, For greefe is proud, and makes his
owner stoope, To me and to the state of my great greefe, Lets kings
assemble: for my greefe's so great, That no supporter but the huge
firme earth Can hold it vp: here I and sorrowes sit,

Heere is my Throne bid kings come bow to it.



Actus Tertius, Scaena prima.

Enter King Iohn, France, Dolphin, Blanch, Elianor, Philip, Austria,
Constance.

Fran. 'Tis true (faire daughter) and this blessed day, Euer in France
shall be kept festiuall:

To solemnize this day the glorious sunne

Stayes in his course, and playes the Alchymist, Turning with splendor
of his precious eye The meager cloddy earth to glittering gold: The
yearely course that brings this day about, Shall neuer see it, but a
holy day

Const. A wicked day, and not a holy day. What hath this day
deseru'd? what hath it done, That it in golden letters should be set

Among the high tides in the Kalender?

Nay, rather turne this day out of the weeke, This day of shame,
oppression, periury.

Or if it must stand still, let wiues with childe Pray that their
burthens may not fall this day, Lest that their hopes prodigiously be
crost: But (on this day) let Sea-men feare no wracke, No bargaines
breake that are not this day made; This day all things begun, come to
ill end, Yea, faith it selfe to hollow falshood change

Fra. By heauen Lady, you shall haue no cause To curse the faire
proceedings of this day: Haue I not pawn'd to you my Maiesty?

Const. You haue beguil'd me with a counterfeit Resembling Maiesty,
which being touch'd and tride, Proues valuelesse: you are forsworne,
forsworne, You came in Armes to spill mine enemies bloud, But now in
Armes, you strengthen it with yours. The grapling vigor, and rough
frowne of Warre Is cold in amitie, and painted peace,

And our oppression hath made vp this league: Arme, arme, you heauens,
against these periur'd Kings, A widdow cries, be husband to me
(heauens) Let not the howres of this vngodly day

Weare out the daies in Peace; but ere Sun-set, Set armed discord 'twixt
these periur'd Kings, Heare me, Oh, heare me

Aust. Lady Constance, peace

Const. War, war, no peace, peace is to me a warre: O Lymoges, O
Austria, thou dost shame

That bloudy spoyle: thou slaue, thou wretch, y coward, Thou little
valiant, great in villanie,

Thou euer strong vpon the stronger side;

Thou Fortunes Champion, that do'st neuer fight But when her humourous
Ladiship is by

To teach thee safety: thou art periur'd too, And sooth'st vp
greatnesse. What a foole art thou, A ramping foole, to brag, and stamp,
and sweare, Vpon my partie: thou cold blooded slaue,

Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side? Beene sworne my Souldier,
bidding me depend Vpon thy starres, thy fortune, and thy strength, And
dost thou now fall ouer to my foes?

Thou weare a Lyons hide, doff it for shame, And hang a Calues skin on
those recreant limbes

Aus. O that a man should speake those words to me

Phil. And hang a Calues-skin on those recreant limbs   Aus. Thou
dar'st not say so villaine for thy life

Phil. And hang a Calues-skin on those recreant limbs

Iohn. We like not this, thou dost forget thy selfe. Enter Pandulph.

Fra. Heere comes the holy Legat of the Pope

Pan. Haile you annointed deputies of heauen; To thee King Iohn my
holy errand is:

I Pandulph, of faire Millane Cardinall,

And from Pope Innocent the Legate heere,

Doe in his name religiously demand

Why thou against the Church, our holy Mother, So wilfully dost spurne;
and force perforce Keepe Stephen Langton chosen Archbishop

Of Canterbury from that holy Sea:

This in our foresaid holy Fathers name

Pope Innocent, I doe demand of thee

Iohn. What earthie name to Interrogatories Can tast the free breath
of a sacred King? Thou canst not (Cardinall) deuise a name

So slight, vnworthy, and ridiculous

To charge me to an answere, as the Pope:

Tell him this tale, and from the mouth of England, Adde thus much more,
that no Italian Priest Shall tythe or toll in our dominions:

But as we, vnder heauen, are supreame head, So vnder him that great
supremacy

Where we doe reigne, we will alone vphold Without th' assistance of a
mortall hand: So tell the Pope, all reuerence set apart To him and his
vsurp'd authoritie

Fra. Brother of England, you blaspheme in this

Iohn. Though you, and all the Kings of Christendom Are led so
grossely by this medling Priest, Dreading the curse that money may buy
out, And by the merit of vilde gold, drosse, dust, Purchase corrupted
pardon of a man,

Who in that sale sels pardon from himselfe: Though you, and al the rest
so grossely led, This iugling witchcraft with reuennue cherish, Yet I
alone, alone doe me oppose

Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes

Pand. Then by the lawfull power that I haue, Thou shalt stand curst,
and excommunicate, And blessed shall he be that doth reuolt

From his Allegeance to an heretique,

And meritorious shall that hand be call'd, Canonized and worship'd as a
Saint,

That takes away by any secret course

Thy hatefull life

Con. O lawfull let it be

That I haue roome with Rome to curse a while, Good Father Cardinall,
cry thou Amen

To my keene curses; for without my wrong

There is no tongue hath power to curse him right

Pan. There's Law and Warrant (Lady) for my curse

Cons. And for mine too, when Law can do no right. Let it be lawfull,
that Law barre no wrong: Law cannot giue my childe his kingdome heere;
For he that holds his Kingdome, holds the Law: Therefore since Law it
selfe is perfect wrong, How can the Law forbid my tongue to curse?
Pand. Philip of France, on perill of a curse, Let goe the hand of that
Arch-heretique,

And raise the power of France vpon his head, Vnlesse he doe submit
himselfe to Rome

Elea. Look'st thou pale France? do not let go thy hand

Con. Looke to that Deuill, lest that France repent, And by
disioyning hands hell lose a soule

Aust. King Philip, listen to the Cardinall

Bast. And hang a Calues-skin on his recreant limbs

Aust. Well ruffian, I must pocket vp these wrongs, Because,

Bast. Your breeches best may carry them

Iohn. Philip, what saist thou to the Cardinall?   Con. What should
he say, but as the Cardinall?   Dolph. Bethinke you father, for the
difference Is purchase of a heauy curse from Rome,

Or the light losse of England, for a friend: Forgoe the easier

Bla. That's the curse of Rome

Con. O Lewis, stand fast, the deuill tempts thee heere In likenesse
of a new vntrimmed Bride

Bla. The Lady Constance speakes not from her faith, But from her
need

Con. Oh, if thou grant my need,

Which onely liues but by the death of faith, That need, must needs
inferre this principle, That faith would liue againe by death of need:
O then tread downe my need, and faith mounts vp, Keepe my need vp, and
faith is trodden downe

Iohn. The king is moud, and answers not to this

Con. O be remou'd from him, and answere well

Aust. Doe so king Philip, hang no more in doubt

Bast. Hang nothing but a Calues skin most sweet lout

Fra. I am perplext, and know not what to say

Pan. What canst thou say, but wil perplex thee more? If thou stand
excommunicate, and curst?

Fra. Good reuerend father, make my person yours, And tell me how you
would bestow your selfe? This royall hand and mine are newly knit, And
the coniunction of our inward soules

Married in league, coupled, and link'd together With all religous
strength of sacred vowes, The latest breath that gaue the sound of
words Was deepe-sworne faith, peace, amity, true loue Betweene our
kingdomes and our royall selues, And euen before this truce, but new
before, No longer then we well could wash our hands, To clap this
royall bargaine vp of peace, Heauen knowes they were besmear'd and
ouer-staind With slaughters pencill; where reuenge did paint The
fearefull difference of incensed kings: And shall these hands so lately
purg'd of bloud? So newly ioyn'd in loue? so strong in both, Vnyoke
this seysure, and this kinde regreete? Play fast and loose with faith?
so iest with heauen, Make such vnconstant children of our selues As now
againe to snatch our palme from palme: Vn-sweare faith sworne, and on
the marriage bed Of smiling peace to march a bloody hoast, And make a
ryot on the gentle brow

Of true sincerity? O holy Sir

My reuerend father, let it not be so;

Out of your grace, deuise, ordaine, impose Some gentle order, and then
we shall be blest To doe your pleasure, and continue friends

Pand. All forme is formelesse, Order orderlesse, Saue what is
opposite to Englands loue.

Therefore to Armes, be Champion of our Church, Or let the Church our
mother breathe her curse, A mothers curse, on her reuolting sonne:

France, thou maist hold a serpent by the tongue, A cased Lion by the
mortall paw,

A fasting Tyger safer by the tooth,

Then keepe in peace that hand which thou dost hold

Fra. I may dis-ioyne my hand, but not my faith

Pand. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith, And like a ciuill
warre setst oath to oath, Thy tongue against thy tongue. O let thy vow
First made to heauen, first be to heauen perform'd, That is, to be the
Champion of our Church, What since thou sworst, is sworne against thy
selfe, And may not be performed by thy selfe,

For that which thou hast sworne to doe amisse, Is not amisse when it is
truely done:

And being not done, where doing tends to ill, The truth is then most
done not doing it: The better Act of purposes mistooke,

Is to mistake again, though indirect,

Yet indirection thereby growes direct,

And falshood, falshood cures, as fire cooles fire Within the scorched
veines of one new burn'd: It is religion that doth make vowes kept, But
thou hast sworne against religion:

By what thou swear'st against the thing thou swear'st, And mak'st an
oath the suretie for thy truth, Against an oath the truth, thou art
vnsure To sweare, sweares onely not to be forsworne, Else what a
mockerie should it be to sweare? But thou dost sweare, onely to be
forsworne, And most forsworne, to keepe what thou dost sweare,
Therefore thy later vowes, against thy first, Is in thy selfe rebellion
to thy selfe:

And better conquest neuer canst thou make, Then arme thy constant and
thy nobler parts Against these giddy loose suggestions:

Vpon which better part, our prayrs come in, If thou vouchsafe them. But
if not, then know The perill of our curses light on thee

So heauy, as thou shalt not shake them off But in despaire, dye vnder
their blacke weight

Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion

Bast. Wil't not be?

Will not a Calues-skin stop that mouth of thine?   Daul. Father, to
Armes

Blanch. Vpon thy wedding day?

Against the blood that thou hast married? What, shall our feast be kept
with slaughtered men? Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish drums
Clamors of hell, be measures to our pomp? O husband heare me: aye,
alacke, how new

Is husband in my mouth? euen for that name Which till this time my
tongue did nere pronounce; Vpon my knee I beg, goe not to Armes

Against mine Vncle

Const. O, vpon my knee made hard with kneeling, I doe pray to thee,
thou vertuous Daulphin, Alter not the doome fore-thought by heauen

Blan. Now shall I see thy loue, what motiue may Be stronger with
thee, then the name of wife?   Con. That which vpholdeth him, that thee
vpholds, His Honor, Oh thine Honor, Lewis thine Honor

Dolph. I muse your Maiesty doth seeme so cold, When such profound
respects doe pull you on?   Pand. I will denounce a curse vpon his
head

Fra. Thou shalt not need. England, I will fall fro[m] thee

Const. O faire returne of banish'd Maiestie

Elea. O foule reuolt of French inconstancy

Eng. France, y shalt rue this houre within this houre

Bast. Old Time the clocke setter, y bald sexton Time: Is it as he
will? well then, France shall rue

Bla. The Sun's orecast with bloud: faire day adieu, Which is the
side that I must goe withall? I am with both, each Army hath a hand,

And in their rage, I hauing hold of both, They whurle a-sunder, and
dismember mee.

Husband, I cannot pray that thou maist winne: Vncle, I needs must pray
that thou maist lose: Father, I may not wish the fortune thine:
Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thriue: Who-euer wins, on that side
shall I lose: Assured losse, before the match be plaid

Dolph. Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies

Bla. There where my fortune liues, there my life dies

Iohn. Cosen, goe draw our puisance together, France, I am burn'd vp
with inflaming wrath, A rage, whose heat hath this condition;

That nothing can allay, nothing but blood, The blood and deerest valued
bloud of France

Fra. Thy rage shall burne thee vp, & thou shalt turne To ashes, ere
our blood shall quench that fire: Looke to thy selfe, thou art in
ieopardie

Iohn. No more then he that threats. To Arms let's hie.

Exeunt.



Scoena Secunda.

Allarums, Excursions: Enter Bastard with Austria's head.

Bast. Now by my life, this day grows wondrous hot, Some ayery Deuill
houers in the skie,

And pour's downe mischiefe. Austrias head lye there, Enter Iohn,
Arthur, Hubert.

While Philip breathes

Iohn. Hubert, keepe this boy: Philip make vp, My Mother is assayled
in our Tent,

And tane I feare

Bast. My Lord I rescued her,

Her Highnesse is in safety, feare you not: But on my Liege, for very
little paines

Will bring this labor to an happy end.

Enter.

Alarums, excursions, Retreat. Enter Iohn, Eleanor, Arthur Bastard,
Hubert,

Lords.

Iohn. So shall it be: your Grace shall stay behinde So strongly
guarded: Cosen, looke not sad, Thy Grandame loues thee, and thy Vnkle
will As deere be to thee, as thy father was

Arth. O this will make my mother die with griefe

Iohn. Cosen away for England, haste before, And ere our comming see
thou shake the bags Of hoording Abbots, imprisoned angells

Set at libertie: the fat ribs of peace

Must by the hungry now be fed vpon:

Vse our Commission in his vtmost force

Bast. Bell, Booke, & Candle, shall not driue me back, When gold and
siluer becks me to come on. I leaue your highnesse: Grandame, I will
pray (If euer I remember to be holy)

For your faire safety: so I kisse your hand

Ele. Farewell gentle Cosen

Iohn. Coz, farewell

Ele. Come hether little kinsman, harke, a worde

Iohn. Come hether Hubert. O my gentle Hubert, We owe thee much:
within this wall of flesh There is a soule counts thee her Creditor,
And with aduantage meanes to pay thy loue: And my good friend, thy
voluntary oath

Liues in this bosome, deerely cherished.

Giue me thy hand, I had a thing to say,

But I will fit it with some better tune.

By heauen Hubert, I am almost asham'd

To say what good respect I haue of thee

Hub. I am much bounden to your Maiesty

Iohn. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet, But thou shalt
haue: and creepe time nere so slow, Yet it shall come, for me to doe
thee good. I had a thing to say, but let it goe:

The Sunne is in the heauen, and the proud day, Attended with the
pleasures of the world, Is all too wanton, and too full of gawdes To
giue me audience: If the mid-night bell Did with his yron tongue, and
brazen mouth Sound on into the drowzie race of night:

If this same were a Church-yard where we stand, And thou possessed with
a thousand wrongs: Or if that surly spirit melancholy

Had bak'd thy bloud, and made it heauy, thicke, Which else runnes
tickling vp and downe the veines, Making that idiot laughter keepe mens
eyes, And straine their cheekes to idle merriment, A passion hatefull
to my purposes:

Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, Heare me without thine
eares, and make reply Without a tongue, vsing conceit alone,

Without eyes, eares, and harmefull sound of words: Then, in despight of
brooded watchfull day, I would into thy bosome poure my thoughts: But
(ah) I will not, yet I loue thee well, And by my troth I thinke thou
lou'st me well

Hub. So well, that what you bid me vndertake, Though that my death
were adiunct to my Act, By heauen I would doe it

Iohn. Doe not I know thou wouldst?

Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert throw thine eye On yon young boy: Ile tell
thee what my friend, He is a very serpent in my way,

And wheresoere this foot of mine doth tread, He lies before me: dost
thou vnderstand me? Thou art his keeper

Hub. And Ile keepe him so,

That he shall not offend your Maiesty

Iohn. Death

Hub. My Lord

Iohn. A Graue

Hub. He shall not liue

Iohn. Enough.

I could be merry now, Hubert, I loue thee. Well, Ile not say what I
intend for thee: Remember: Madam, Fare you well,

Ile send those powers o're to your Maiesty

Ele. My blessing goe with thee

Iohn. For England Cosen, goe.

Hubert shall be your man, attend on you

With al true duetie: On toward Callice, hoa.

Exeunt.



Scaena Tertia.

Enter France, Dolphin, Pandulpho, Attendants.

Fra. So by a roaring Tempest on the flood, A whole Armado of
conuicted saile

Is scattered and dis-ioyn'd from fellowship

Pand. Courage and comfort, all shall yet goe well

Fra. What can goe well, when we haue runne so ill? Are we not
beaten? Is not Angiers lost?

Arthur tane prisoner? diuers deere friends slaine? And bloudy England
into England gone,

Ore-bearing interruption spight of France?   Dol. What he hath won,
that hath he fortified: So hot a speed, with such aduice dispos'd, Such
temperate order in so fierce a cause, Doth want example: who hath read,
or heard Of any kindred-action like to this?

Fra. Well could I beare that England had this praise, So we could
finde some patterne of our shame: Enter Constance.

Looke who comes heere? a graue vnto a soule, Holding th' eternall
spirit against her will, In the vilde prison of afflicted breath:

I prethee Lady goe away with me

Con. Lo; now: now see the issue of your peace

Fra. Patience good Lady, comfort gentle Constance

Con. No, I defie all Counsell, all redresse, But that which ends all
counsell, true Redresse: Death, death, O amiable, louely death,

Thou odoriferous stench: sound rottennesse, Arise forth from the couch
of lasting night, Thou hate and terror to prosperitie,

And I will kisse thy detestable bones,

And put my eye-balls in thy vaultie browes, And ring these fingers with
thy houshold wormes, And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, And
be a Carrion Monster like thy selfe;

Come, grin on me, and I will thinke thou smil'st, And busse thee as thy
wife: Miseries Loue, O come to me

Fra. O faire affliction, peace

Con. No, no, I will not, hauing breath to cry: O that my tongue were
in the thunders mouth, Then with a passion would I shake the world, And
rowze from sleepe that fell Anatomy

Which cannot heare a Ladies feeble voyce, Which scornes a moderne
Inuocation

Pand. Lady, you vtter madnesse, and not sorrow

Con. Thou art holy to belye me so,

I am not mad: this haire I teare is mine, My name is Constance, I was
Geffreyes wife, Yong Arthur is my sonne, and he is lost:

I am not mad, I would to heauen I were,

For then 'tis like I should forget my selfe: O, if I could, what griefe
should I forget? Preach some Philosophy to make me mad,

And thou shalt be Canoniz'd (Cardinall.)

For, being not mad, but sensible of greefe, My reasonable part produces
reason

How I may be deliuer'd of these woes.

And teaches mee to kill or hang my selfe: If I were mad, I should
forget my sonne,

Or madly thinke a babe of clowts were he; I am not mad: too well, too
well I feele

The different plague of each calamitie

Fra. Binde vp those tresses: O what loue I note In the faire
multitude of those her haires; Where but by chance a siluer drop hath
falne, Euen to that drop ten thousand wiery fiends Doe glew themselues
in sociable griefe,

Like true, inseparable, faithfull loues,

Sticking together in calamitie

Con. To England, if you will

Fra. Binde vp your haires

Con. Yes that I will: and wherefore will I do it? I tore them from
their bonds, and cride aloud, O, that these hands could so redeeme my
sonne, As they haue giuen these hayres their libertie: But now I enuie
at their libertie,

And will againe commit them to their bonds, Because my poore childe is
a prisoner.

And Father Cardinall, I haue heard you say That we shall see and know
our friends in heauen: If that be true, I shall see my boy againe; For
since the birth of Caine, the first male-childe To him that did but
yesterday suspire,

There was not such a gracious creature borne: But now will
Canker-sorrow eat my bud,

And chase the natiue beauty from his cheeke, And he will looke as
hollow as a Ghost,

As dim and meager as an Agues fitte,

And so hee'll dye: and rising so againe,

When I shall meet him in the Court of heauen I shall not know him:
therefore neuer, neuer Must I behold my pretty Arthur more

Pand. You hold too heynous a respect of greefe

Const. He talkes to me, that neuer had a sonne

Fra. You are as fond of greefe, as of your childe

Con. Greefe fils the roome vp of my absent childe: Lies in his bed,
walkes vp and downe with me, Puts on his pretty lookes, repeats his
words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts,

Stuffes out his vacant garments with his forme; Then, haue I reason to
be fond of griefe? Fareyouwell: had you such a losse as I,

I could giue better comfort then you doe. I will not keepe this forme
vpon my head, When there is such disorder in my witte:

O Lord, my boy, my Arthur, my faire sonne, My life, my ioy, my food, my
all the world: My widow-comfort, and my sorrowes cure.

Enter.

Fra. I feare some out-rage, and Ile follow her. Enter

Dol. There's nothing in this world can make me ioy, Life is as
tedious as a twice-told tale,

Vexing the dull eare of a drowsie man;

And bitter shame hath spoyl'd the sweet words taste, That it yeelds
nought but shame and bitternesse

Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease, Euen in the instant of
repaire and health, The fit is strongest: Euils that take leaue On
their departure, most of all shew euill: What haue you lost by losing
of this day?   Dol. All daies of glory, ioy, and happinesse

Pan. If you had won it, certainely you had. No, no: when Fortune
meanes to men most good, Shee lookes vpon them with a threatning eye:
'Tis strange to thinke how much King Iohn hath lost In this which he
accounts so clearely wonne: Are not you grieu'd that Arthur is his
prisoner?   Dol. As heartily as he is glad he hath him

Pan. Your minde is all as youthfull as your blood. Now heare me
speake with a propheticke spirit: For euen the breath of what I meane
to speake, Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub Out of the
path which shall directly lead Thy foote to Englands Throne. And
therefore marke: Iohn hath seiz'd Arthur, and it cannot be, That whiles
warme life playes in that infants veines, The mis-plac'dIohn should
entertaine an houre, One minute, nay one quiet breath of rest. A
Scepter snatch'd with an vnruly hand,

Must be as boysterously maintain'd as gain'd. And he that stands vpon a
slipp'ry place, Makes nice of no vilde hold to stay him vp: That Iohn
may stand, then Arthur needs must fall, So be it, for it cannot be but
so

Dol. But what shall I gaine by yong Arthurs fall?   Pan. You, in the
right of Lady Blanch your wife, May then make all the claime that
Arthur did

Dol. And loose it, life and all, as Arthur did

Pan. How green you are, and fresh in this old world? Iohn layes you
plots: the times conspire with you, For he that steepes his safetie in
true blood, Shall finde but bloodie safety, and vntrue. This Act so
euilly borne shall coole the hearts Of all his people, and freeze vp
their zeale, That none so small aduantage shall step forth To checke
his reigne, but they will cherish it. No naturall exhalation in the
skie,

No scope of Nature, no distemper'd day,

No common winde, no customed euent,

But they will plucke away his naturall cause, And call them Meteors,
prodigies, and signes, Abbortiues, presages, and tongues of heauen,
Plainly denouncing vengeance vpon Iohn

Dol. May be he will not touch yong Arthurs life, But hold himselfe
safe in his prisonment

Pan. O Sir, when he shall heare of your approach, If that yong
Arthur be not gone alreadie, Euen at that newes he dies: and then the
hearts Of all his people shall reuolt from him,

And kisse the lippes of vnacquainted change, And picke strong matter of
reuolt, and wrath Out of the bloody fingers ends of Iohn.

Me thinkes I see this hurley all on foot; And O, what better matter
breeds for you, Then I haue nam'd. The Bastard Falconbridge Is now in
England ransacking the Church,

Offending Charity: If but a dozen French

Were there in Armes, they would be as a Call To traine ten thousand
English to their side; Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,

Anon becomes a Mountaine. O noble Dolphine, Go with me to the King,
'tis wonderfull,

What may be wrought out of their discontent, Now that their soules are
topfull of offence, For England go; I will whet on the King

Dol. Strong reasons makes strange actions: let vs go, If you say I,
the King will not say no.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.

Enter Hubert and Executioners.

Hub. Heate me these Irons hot, and looke thou stand Within the Arras:
when I strike my foot

Vpon the bosome of the ground, rush forth And binde the boy, which you
shall finde with me Fast to the chaire: be heedfull: hence, and watch

Exec. I hope your warrant will beare out the deed

Hub. Vncleanly scruples feare not you: looke too't. Yong Lad come
forth; I haue to say with you. Enter Arthur.

Ar. Good morrow Hubert

Hub. Good morrow, little Prince

Ar. As little Prince, hauing so great a Title To be more Prince, as
may be: you are sad

Hub. Indeed I haue beene merrier

Art. 'Mercie on me:

Me thinkes no body should be sad but I:

Yet I remember, when I was in France,

Yong Gentlemen would be as sad as night

Onely for wantonnesse: by my Christendome, So I were out of prison, and
kept Sheepe

I should be as merry as the day is long:

And so I would be heere, but that I doubt My Vnckle practises more
harme to me:

He is affraid of me, and I of him:

Is it my fault, that I was Geffreyes sonne? No in deede is't not: and I
would to heauen I were your sonne, so you would loue me, Hubert:   Hub.
If I talke to him, with his innocent prate He will awake my mercie,
which lies dead: Therefore I will be sodaine, and dispatch

Ar. Are you sicke Hubert? you looke pale to day, Insooth I would you
were a little sicke,

That I might sit all night, and watch with you. I warrant I loue you
more then you do me

Hub. His words do take possession of my bosome. Reade heere yong
Arthur. How now foolish rheume? Turning dispitious torture out of
doore?

I must be breefe, least resolution drop

Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish teares. Can you not reade it? Is
it not faire writ?   Ar. Too fairely Hubert, for so foule effect, Must
you with hot Irons, burne out both mine eyes?   Hub. Yong Boy, I must

Art. And will you?

Hub. And I will

Art. Haue you the heart? When your head did but ake,

I knit my hand-kercher about your browes

(The best I had, a Princesse wrought it me) And I did neuer aske it you
againe:

And with my hand, at midnight held your head; And like the watchfull
minutes, to the houre, Still and anon cheer'd vp the heauy time;
Saying, what lacke you? and where lies your greefe? Or what good loue
may I performe for you? Many a poore mans sonne would haue lyen still,
And nere haue spoke a louing word to you: But you, at your sicke
seruice had a Prince: Nay, you may thinke my loue was craftie loue, And
call it cunning. Do, and if you will, If heauen be pleas'd that you
must vse me ill, Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes? These
eyes, that neuer did, nor neuer shall So much as frowne on you

Hub. I haue sworne to do it:

And with hot Irons must I burne them out

Ar. Ah, none but in this Iron Age, would do it: The Iron of it
selfe, though heate red hot, Approaching neere these eyes, would drinke
my teares, And quench this fierie indignation,

Euen in the matter of mine innocence:

Nay, after that, consume away in rust,

But for containing fire to harme mine eye: Are you more stubborne hard,
then hammer'd Iron? And if an Angell should haue come to me,

And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, I would not haue beleeu'd
him: no tongue but Huberts

Hub. Come forth: Do as I bid you do

Art. O saue me Hubert, saue me: my eyes are out Euen with the fierce
lookes of these bloody men

Hub. Giue me the Iron I say, and binde him heere

Art. Alas, what neede you be so boistrous rough? I will not
struggle, I will stand stone still: For heauen sake Hubert let me not
be bound: Nay heare me Hubert, driue these men away, And I will sit as
quiet as a Lambe.

I will not stirre, nor winch, nor speake a word, Nor looke vpon the
Iron angerly:

Thrust but these men away, and Ile forgiue you, What euer torment you
do put me too

Hub. Go stand within: let me alone with him

Exec. I am best pleas'd to be from such a deede

Art. Alas, I then haue chid away my friend, He hath a sterne looke,
but a gentle heart: Let him come backe, that his compassion may Giue
life to yours

Hub. Come (Boy) prepare your selfe

Art. Is there no remedie?

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes

Art. O heauen: that there were but a moth in yours, A graine, a
dust, a gnat, a wandering haire, Any annoyance in that precious sense:

Then feeling what small things are boysterous there, Your vilde intent
must needs seeme horrible

Hub. Is this your promise? Go too, hold your toong

Art. Hubert, the vtterance of a brace of tongues, Must needes want
pleading for a paire of eyes: Let me not hold my tongue: let me not
Hubert, Or Hubert, if you will cut out my tongue, So I may keepe mine
eyes. O spare mine eyes, Though to no vse, but still to looke on you.
Loe, by my troth, the Instrument is cold, And would not harme me

Hub. I can heate it, Boy

Art. No, in good sooth: the fire is dead with griefe, Being create
for comfort, to be vs'd

In vndeserued extreames: See else your selfe, There is no malice in
this burning cole,

The breath of heauen, hath blowne his spirit out, And strew'd repentant
ashes on his head

Hub. But with my breath I can reuiue it Boy

Art. And if you do, you will but make it blush, And glow with shame
of your proceedings, Hubert: Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your
eyes: And, like a dogge that is compell'd to fight, Snatch at his
Master that doth tarre him on. All things that you should vse to do me
wrong Deny their office: onely you do lacke

That mercie, which fierce fire, and Iron extends, Creatures of note for
mercy, lacking vses

Hub. Well, see to liue: I will not touch thine eye, For all the
Treasure that thine Vnckle owes, Yet am I sworne, and I did purpose,
Boy,

With this same very Iron, to burne them out

Art. O now you looke like Hubert. All this while You were disguis'd

Hub. Peace: no more. Adieu,

Your Vnckle must not know but you are dead. Ile fill these dogged Spies
with false reports: And, pretty childe, sleepe doubtlesse, and secure,
That Hubert for the wealth of all the world, Will not offend thee

Art. O heauen! I thanke you Hubert

Hub. Silence, no more; go closely in with mee, Much danger do I
vndergo for thee.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Iohn, Pembroke, Salisbury, and other Lordes.

Iohn. Heere once againe we sit: once against crown'd And look'd vpon,
I hope, with chearefull eyes

Pem. This once again (but that your Highnes pleas'd) Was once
superfluous: you were Crown'd before, And that high Royalty was nere
pluck'd off: The faiths of men, nere stained with reuolt: Fresh
expectation troubled not the Land

With any long'd-for-change, or better State

Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pompe, To guard a Title,
that was rich before;

To gilde refined Gold, to paint the Lilly; To throw a perfume on the
Violet,

To smooth the yce, or adde another hew

Vnto the Raine-bow; or with Taper-light

To seeke the beauteous eye of heauen to garnish, Is wastefull, and
ridiculous excesse

Pem. But that your Royall pleasure must be done, This acte, is as an
ancient tale new told, And, in the last repeating, troublesome,

Being vrged at a time vnseasonable

Sal. In this the Anticke, and well noted face Of plaine old forme,
is much disfigured,

And like a shifted winde vnto a saile,

It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about, Startles, and frights
consideration:

Makes sound opinion sicke, and truth suspected, For putting on so new a
fashion'd robe

Pem. When Workemen striue to do better then wel, They do confound
their skill in couetousnesse, And oftentimes excusing of a fault,

Doth make the fault the worse by th' excuse: As patches set vpon a
little breach,

Discredite more in hiding of the fault,

Then did the fault before it was so patch'd

Sal. To this effect, before you were new crown'd We breath'd our
Councell: but it pleas'd your Highnes To ouer-beare it, and we are all
well pleas'd, Since all, and euery part of what we would Doth make a
stand, at what your Highnesse will

Ioh. Some reasons of this double Corronation I haue possest you
with, and thinke them strong. And more, more strong, then lesser is my
feare I shall indue you with: Meane time, but aske What you would haue
reform'd, that is not well, And well shall you perceiue, how willingly
I will both heare, and grant you your requests

Pem. Then I, as one that am the tongue of these To sound the
purposes of all their hearts, Both for my selfe, and them: but chiefe
of all Your safety: for the which, my selfe and them Bend their best
studies, heartily request Th' infranchisement of Arthur, whose
restraint Doth moue the murmuring lips of discontent To breake into
this dangerous argument.

If what in rest you haue, in right you hold, Why then your feares,
which (as they say) attend The steppes of wrong, should moue you to mew
vp Your tender kinsman, and to choake his dayes With barbarous
ignorance, and deny his youth The rich aduantage of good exercise,

That the times enemies may not haue this

To grace occasions: let it be our suite,

That you haue bid vs aske his libertie,

Which for our goods, we do no further aske, Then, whereupon our weale
on you depending, Counts it your weale: he haue his liberty. Enter
Hubert.

Iohn. Let it be so: I do commit his youth To your direction: Hubert,
what newes with you?   Pem. This is the man should do the bloody deed:
He shew'd his warrant to a friend of mine, The image of a wicked
heynous fault

Liues in his eye: that close aspect of his, Do shew the mood of a much
troubled brest, And I do fearefully beleeue 'tis done,

What we so fear'd he had a charge to do

Sal. The colour of the King doth come, and go Betweene his purpose
and his conscience,

Like Heralds 'twixt two dreadfull battailes set: His passion is so
ripe, it needs must breake

Pem. And when it breakes, I feare will issue thence The foule
corruption of a sweet childes death

Iohn. We cannot hold mortalities strong hand. Good Lords, although
my will to giue, is liuing, The suite which you demand is gone, and
dead. He tels vs Arthur is deceas'd to night

Sal. Indeed we fear'd his sicknesse was past cure

Pem. Indeed we heard how neere his death he was, Before the childe
himselfe felt he was sicke: This must be answer'd either heere, or
hence

Ioh. Why do you bend such solemne browes on me? Thinke you I beare
the Sheeres of destiny? Haue I commandement on the pulse of life? Sal.
It is apparant foule-play, and 'tis shame That Greatnesse should so
grossely offer it; So thriue it in your game, and so farewell

Pem. Stay yet (Lord Salisbury) Ile go with thee, And finde th'
inheritance of this poore childe, His little kingdome of a forced
graue.

That blood which ow'd the bredth of all this Ile, Three foot of it doth
hold; bad world the while: This must not be thus borne, this will
breake out To all our sorrowes, and ere long I doubt.

Exeunt.

Io. They burn in indignation: I repent: Enter Mes.

There is no sure foundation set on blood: No certaine life atchieu'd by
others death: A fearefull eye thou hast. Where is that blood, That I
haue seene inhabite in those cheekes? So foule a skie, cleeres not
without a storme, Poure downe thy weather: how goes all in France? Mes.
From France to England, neuer such a powre For any forraigne
preparation,

Was leuied in the body of a land.

The Copie of your speede is learn'd by them: For when you should be
told they do prepare, The tydings comes, that they are all arriu'd

Ioh. Oh where hath our Intelligence bin drunke? Where hath it slept?
Where is my Mothers care? That such an Army could be drawne in France,
And she not heare of it?

Mes. My Liege, her eare

Is stopt with dust: the first of Aprill di'de Your noble mother; and as
I heare, my Lord, The Lady Constance in a frenzie di'de

Three dayes before: but this from Rumors tongue I idely heard: if true,
or false I know not

Iohn. With-hold thy speed, dreadfull Occasion: O make a league with
me, 'till I haue pleas'd My discontented Peeres. What? Mother dead? How
wildely then walkes my Estate in France? Vnder whose conduct came those
powres of France, That thou for truth giu'st out are landed heere? Mes.
Vnder the Dolphin.

Enter Bastard and Peter of Pomfret.

Ioh. Thou hast made me giddy

With these ill tydings: Now? What sayes the world To your proceedings?
Do not seeke to stuffe My head with more ill newes: for it is full

Bast. But if you be a-feard to heare the worst, Then let the worst
vn-heard, fall on your head

Iohn. Beare with me Cosen, for I was amaz'd Vnder the tide; but now
I breath againe

Aloft the flood, and can giue audience

To any tongue, speake it of what it will

Bast. How I haue sped among the Clergy men, The summes I haue
collected shall expresse: But as I trauail'd hither through the land, I
finde the people strangely fantasied,

Possest with rumors, full of idle dreames, Not knowing what they feare,
but full of feare. And here's a Prophet that I brought with me From
forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found With many hundreds treading
on his heeles: To whom he sung in rude harsh sounding rimes, That ere
the next Ascension day at noone, Your Highnes should deliuer vp your
Crowne

Iohn. Thou idle Dreamer, wherefore didst thou so?   Pet.
Fore-knowing that the truth will fall out so

Iohn. Hubert, away with him: imprison him, And on that day at noone,
whereon he sayes I shall yeeld vp my Crowne, let him be hang'd Deliuer
him to safety, and returne,

For I must vse thee. O my gentle Cosen,

Hear'st thou the newes abroad, who are arriu'd?   Bast. The French (my
Lord) mens mouths are ful of it: Besides I met Lord Bigot, and Lord
Salisburie With eyes as red as new enkindled fire,

And others more, going to seeke the graue Of Arthur, whom they say is
kill'd to night, on your suggestion

Iohn. Gentle kinsman, go

And thrust thy selfe into their Companies, I haue a way to winne their
loues againe: Bring them before me

Bast. I will seeke them out

Iohn. Nay, but make haste: the better foote before. O, let me haue
no subiect enemies,

When aduerse Forreyners affright my Townes With dreadfull pompe of
stout inuasion.

Be Mercurie, set feathers to thy heeles,

And flye (like thought) from them, to me againe

Bast. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed.

Exit

Iohn. Spoke like a sprightfull Noble Gentleman. Go after him: for he
perhaps shall neede

Some Messenger betwixt me, and the Peeres, And be thou hee

Mes. With all my heart, my Liege

Iohn. My mother dead?

Enter Hubert.

Hub. My Lord, they say fiue Moones were seene to night: Foure fixed,
and the fift did whirle about The other foure, in wondrous motion

Ioh. Fiue Moones?

Hub. Old men, and Beldames, in the streets Do prophesie vpon it
dangerously:

Yong Arthurs death is common in their mouths, And when they talke of
him, they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the eare.

And he that speakes, doth gripe the hearers wrist, Whilst he that
heares, makes fearefull action With wrinkled browes, with nods, with
rolling eyes. I saw a Smith stand with his hammer (thus) The whilst his
Iron did on the Anuile coole, With open mouth swallowing a Taylors
newes, Who with his Sheeres, and Measure in his hand, Standing on
slippers, which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust vpon contrary
feete,

Told of a many thousand warlike French,

That were embattailed, and rank'd in Kent. Another leane, vnwash'd
Artificer,

Cuts off his tale, and talkes of Arthurs death

Io. Why seek'st thou to possesse me with these feares? Why vrgest
thou so oft yong Arthurs death? Thy hand hath murdred him: I had a
mighty cause To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him

H. No had (my Lord?) why, did you not prouoke me?   Iohn. It is the
curse of Kings, to be attended By slaues, that take their humors for a
warrant, To breake within the bloody house of life, And on the winking
of Authoritie

To vnderstand a Law; to know the meaning

Of dangerous Maiesty, when perchance it frownes More vpon humor, then
aduis'd respect

Hub. Heere is your hand and Seale for what I did

Ioh. Oh, when the last accompt twixt heauen & earth Is to be made,
then shall this hand and Seale Witnesse against vs to damnation.

How oft the sight of meanes to do ill deeds, Make deeds ill done?
Had'st not thou beene by, A fellow by the hand of Nature mark'd,

Quoted, and sign'd to do a deede of shame, This murther had not come
into my minde.

But taking note of thy abhorr'd Aspect,

Finding thee fit for bloody villanie:

Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger,

I faintly broke with thee of Arthurs death: And thou, to be endeered to
a King,

Made it no conscience to destroy a Prince

Hub. My Lord

Ioh. Had'st thou but shooke thy head, or made a pause When I spake
darkely, what I purposed:

Or turn'd an eye of doubt vpon my face;

As bid me tell my tale in expresse words: Deepe shame had struck me
dumbe, made me break off, And those thy feares, might haue wrought
feares in me. But, thou didst vnderstand me by my signes, And didst in
signes againe parley with sinne, Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart
consent, And consequently, thy rude hand to acte

The deed, which both our tongues held vilde to name. Out of my sight,
and neuer see me more:

My Nobles leaue me, and my State is braued, Euen at my gates, with
rankes of forraigne powres; Nay, in the body of this fleshly Land,

This kingdome, this Confine of blood, and breathe Hostilitie, and
ciuill tumult reignes

Betweene my conscience, and my Cosins death

Hub. Arme you against your other enemies: Ile make a peace betweene
your soule, and you. Yong Arthur is aliue: This hand of mine

Is yet a maiden, and an innocent hand.

Not painted with the Crimson spots of blood, Within this bosome, neuer
entred yet

The dreadfull motion of a murderous thought, And you haue slander'd
Nature in my forme, Which howsoeuer rude exteriorly,

Is yet the couer of a fayrer minde,

Then to be butcher of an innocent childe

Iohn. Doth Arthur liue? O hast thee to the Peeres, Throw this report
on their incensed rage, And make them tame to their obedience.

Forgiue the Comment that my passion made

Vpon thy feature, for my rage was blinde, And foule immaginarie eyes of
blood

Presented thee more hideous then thou art. Oh, answer not; but to my
Closset bring

The angry Lords, with all expedient hast, I coniure thee but slowly:
run more fast.

Exeunt.



Scoena Tertia.

Enter Arthur on the walles.

Ar. The Wall is high, and yet will I leape downe. Good ground be
pittifull, and hurt me not: There's few or none do know me, if they
did, This Ship-boyes semblance hath disguis'd me quite. I am afraide,
and yet Ile venture it.

If I get downe, and do not breake my limbes, Ile finde a thousand
shifts to get away;

As good to dye, and go; as dye, and stay. Oh me, my Vnckles spirit is
in these stones, Heauen take my soule, and England keep my bones.

Dies

Enter Pembroke, Salisbury, & Bigot.

Sal. Lords, I will meet him at S[aint]. Edmondsbury, It is our
safetie, and we must embrace

This gentle offer of the perillous time

Pem. Who brought that Letter from the Cardinall?   Sal. The Count
Meloone, a Noble Lord of France, Whose priuate with me of the Dolphines
loue, Is much more generall, then these lines import

Big. To morrow morning let vs meete him then

Sal. Or rather then set forward, for 'twill be Two long dayes
iourney (Lords) or ere we meete. Enter Bastard.

Bast. Once more to day well met, distemper'd Lords, The King by me
requests your presence straight

Sal. The king hath dispossest himselfe of vs, We will not lyne his
thin-bestained cloake With our pure Honors: nor attend the foote That
leaues the print of blood where ere it walkes. Returne, and tell him
so: we know the worst

Bast. What ere you thinke, good words I thinke were best

Sal. Our greefes, and not our manners reason now

Bast. But there is little reason in your greefe. Therefore 'twere
reason you had manners now

Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his priuiledge

Bast. 'Tis true, to hurt his master, no mans else

Sal. This is the prison: What is he lyes heere?   P. Oh death, made
proud with pure & princely beuty, The earth had not a hole to hide this
deede

Sal. Murther, as hating what himselfe hath done, Doth lay it open to
vrge on reuenge

Big. Or when he doom'd this Beautie to a graue, Found it too
precious Princely, for a graue

Sal. Sir Richard, what thinke you? you haue beheld, Or haue you
read, or heard, or could you thinke? Or do you almost thinke, although
you see, That you do see? Could thought, without this obiect Forme such
another? This is the very top, The heighth, the Crest: or Crest vnto
the Crest Of murthers Armes: This is the bloodiest shame, The wildest
Sauagery, the vildest stroke

That euer wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage Presented to the teares of
soft remorse

Pem. All murthers past, do stand excus'd in this: And this so sole,
and so vnmatcheable,

Shall giue a holinesse, a puritie,

To the yet vnbegotten sinne of times;

And proue a deadly bloodshed, but a iest, Exampled by this heynous
spectacle

Bast. It is a damned, and a bloody worke, The gracelesse action of a
heauy hand,

If that it be the worke of any hand

Sal. If that it be the worke of any hand? We had a kinde of light,
what would ensue: It is the shamefull worke of Huberts hand, The
practice, and the purpose of the king: From whose obedience I forbid my
soule,

Kneeling before this ruine of sweete life, And breathing to his
breathlesse Excellence The Incense of a Vow, a holy Vow:

Neuer to taste the pleasures of the world, Neuer to be infected with
delight,

Nor conuersant with Ease, and Idlenesse,

Till I haue set a glory to this hand,

By giuing it the worship of Reuenge

Pem. Big. Our soules religiously confirme thy words. Enter Hubert.

Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste, in seeking you, Arthur doth liue,
the king hath sent for you

Sal. Oh he is bold, and blushes not at death, Auant thou hatefull
villain, get thee gone

Hu. I am no villaine

Sal. Must I rob the Law?

Bast. Your sword is bright sir, put it vp againe

Sal. Not till I sheath it in a murtherers skin

Hub. Stand backe Lord Salsbury, stand backe I say By heauen, I
thinke my sword's as sharpe as yours. I would not haue you (Lord)
forget your selfe, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence;

Least I, by marking of your rage, forget

Your Worth, your Greatnesse, and Nobility

Big. Out dunghill: dar'st thou braue a Nobleman?   Hub. Not for my
life: But yet I dare defend My innocent life against an Emperor

Sal. Thou art a Murtherer

Hub. Do not proue me so:

Yet I am none. Whose tongue so ere speakes false, Not truely speakes:
who speakes not truly, Lies

Pem. Cut him to peeces

Bast. Keepe the peace, I say

Sal. Stand by, or I shall gaul you Faulconbridge

Bast. Thou wer't better gaul the diuell Salsbury. If thou but frowne
on me, or stirre thy foote, Or teach thy hastie spleene to do me shame,
Ile strike thee dead. Put vp thy sword betime, Or Ile so maule you, and
your tosting-Iron, That you shall thinke the diuell is come from hell

Big. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge? Second a Villaine,
and a Murtherer?

Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none

Big. Who kill'd this Prince?

Hub. 'Tis not an houre since I left him well: I honour'd him, I lou'd
him, and will weepe My date of life out, for his sweete liues losse

Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, For villanie is not
without such rheume,

And he, long traded in it, makes it seeme Like Riuers of remorse and
innocencie.

Away with me, all you whose soules abhorre Th' vncleanly sauours of a
Slaughter-house, For I am stifled with this smell of sinne

Big. Away, toward Burie, to the Dolphin there

P. There tel the king, he may inquire vs out.

Ex. Lords.

Ba. Here's a good world: knew you of this faire work? Beyond the
infinite and boundlesse reach of mercie, (If thou didst this deed of
death) art y damn'd Hubert

Hub. Do but heare me sir

Bast. Ha? Ile tell thee what.

Thou'rt damn'd as blacke, nay nothing is so blacke, Thou art more deepe
damn'd then Prince Lucifer: There is not yet so vgly a fiend of hell

As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this childe

Hub. Vpon my soule

Bast. If thou didst but consent

To this most cruell Act: do but dispaire, And if thou want'st a Cord,
the smallest thred That euer Spider twisted from her wombe

Will serue to strangle thee: A rush will be a beame To hang thee on. Or
wouldst thou drowne thy selfe, Put but a little water in a spoone,

And it shall be as all the Ocean,

Enough to stifle such a villaine vp.

I do suspect thee very greeuously

Hub. If I in act, consent, or sinne of thought, Be guiltie of the
stealing that sweete breath Which was embounded in this beauteous clay,
Let hell want paines enough to torture me: I left him well

Bast. Go, beare him in thine armes:

I am amaz'd me thinkes, and loose my way

Among the thornes, and dangers of this world. How easie dost thou take
all England vp,

From forth this morcell of dead Royaltie? The life, the right, and
truth of all this Realme Is fled to heauen: and England now is left To
tug and scamble, and to part by th' teeth The vn-owed interest of proud
swelling State: Now for the bare-pickt bone of Maiesty,

Doth dogged warre bristle his angry crest, And snarleth in the gentle
eyes of peace: Now Powers from home, and discontents at home Meet in
one line: and vast confusion waites As doth a Rauen on a sicke-falne
beast,

The iminent decay of wrested pompe.

Now happy he, whose cloake and center can Hold out this tempest. Beare
away that childe, And follow me with speed: Ile to the King: A thousand
businesses are briefe in hand, And heauen it selfe doth frowne vpon the
Land. Enter.



Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.

Enter King Iohn and Pandolph, attendants.

K.Iohn. Thus haue I yeelded vp into your hand The Circle of my glory

Pan. Take againe

From this my hand, as holding of the Pope Your Soueraigne greatnesse
and authoritie

Iohn. Now keep your holy word, go meet the French, And from his
holinesse vse all your power To stop their marches 'fore we are
enflam'd: Our discontented Counties doe reuolt:

Our people quarrell with obedience,

Swearing Allegiance, and the loue of soule To stranger-bloud, to forren
Royalty;

This inundation of mistempred humor,

Rests by you onely to be qualified.

Then pause not: for the present time's so sicke, That present medcine
must be ministred,

Or ouerthrow incureable ensues

Pand. It was my breath that blew this Tempest vp, Vpon your
stubborne vsage of the Pope:

But since you are a gentle conuertite,

My tongue shall hush againe this storme of warre, And make faire
weather in your blustring land: On this Ascention day, remember well,

Vpon your oath of seruice to the Pope,

Goe I to make the French lay downe their Armes. Enter.

Iohn. Is this Ascension day? did not the Prophet Say, that before
Ascension day at noone,

My Crowne I should giue off? euen so I haue: I did suppose it should be
on constraint, But (heau'n be thank'd) it is but voluntary. Enter
Bastard.

Bast. All Kent hath yeelded: nothing there holds out But Douer
Castle: London hath receiu'd

Like a kinde Host, the Dolphin and his powers. Your Nobles will not
heare you, but are gone To offer seruice to your enemy:

And wilde amazement hurries vp and downe

The little number of your doubtfull friends

Iohn. Would not my Lords returne to me againe After they heard yong
Arthur was aliue?

Bast. They found him dead, and cast into the streets, An empty
Casket, where the Iewell of life By some damn'd hand was rob'd, and
tane away

Iohn. That villaine Hubert told me he did liue

Bast. So on my soule he did, for ought he knew: But wherefore doe
you droope? why looke you sad? Be great in act, as you haue beene in
thought: Let not the world see feare and sad distrust Gouerne the
motion of a kinglye eye:

Be stirring as the time, be fire with fire, Threaten the threatner, and
out-face the brow Of bragging horror: So shall inferior eyes That
borrow their behauiours from the great, Grow great by your example, and
put on

The dauntlesse spirit of resolution.

Away, and glister like the god of warre

When he intendeth to become the field:

Shew boldnesse and aspiring confidence:

What, shall they seeke the Lion in his denne, And fright him there? and
make him tremble there? Oh let it not be said: forrage, and runne To
meet displeasure farther from the dores, And grapple with him ere he
come so nye

Iohn. The Legat of the Pope hath beene with mee, And I haue made a
happy peace with him,

And he hath promis'd to dismisse the Powers Led by the Dolphin

Bast. Oh inglorious league:

Shall we vpon the footing of our land,

Send fayre-play-orders, and make comprimise, Insinuation, parley, and
base truce

To Armes Inuasiue? Shall a beardlesse boy, A cockred-silken wanton
braue our fields, And flesh his spirit in a warre-like soyle, Mocking
the ayre with colours idlely spred, And finde no checke? Let vs my
Liege to Armes: Perchance the Cardinall cannot make your peace; Or if
he doe, let it at least be said

They saw we had a purpose of defence

Iohn. Haue thou the ordering of this present time

Bast. Away then with good courage: yet I know Our Partie may well
meet a prowder foe.

Exeunt.



Scoena Secunda.

Enter (in Armes) Dolphin, Salisbury, Meloone, Pembroke, Bigot,
Souldiers.



Dol. My Lord Melloone, let this be coppied out, And keepe it safe
for our remembrance:

Returne the president to these Lords againe, That hauing our faire
order written downe, Both they and we, perusing ore these notes May
know wherefore we tooke the Sacrament, And keepe our faithes firme and
inuiolable

Sal. Vpon our sides it neuer shall be broken. And Noble Dolphin,
albeit we sweare

A voluntary zeale, and an vn-urg'd Faith

To your proceedings: yet beleeue me Prince, I am not glad that such a
sore of Time

Should seeke a plaster by contemn'd reuolt, And heale the inueterate
Canker of one wound, By making many: Oh it grieues my soule,

That I must draw this mettle from my side To be a widdow-maker: oh, and
there

Where honourable rescue, and defence

Cries out vpon the name of Salisbury.

But such is the infection of the time,

That for the health and Physicke of our right, We cannot deale but with
the very hand

Of sterne Iniustice, and confused wrong:

And is't not pitty, (oh my grieued friends) That we, the sonnes and
children of this Isle, Was borne to see so sad an houre as this,
Wherein we step after a stranger, march

Vpon her gentle bosom, and fill vp

Her Enemies rankes? I must withdraw, and weepe Vpon the spot of this
inforced cause,

To grace the Gentry of a Land remote,

And follow vnacquainted colours heere:

What heere? O Nation that thou couldst remoue, That Neptunes Armes who
clippeth thee about, Would beare thee from the knowledge of thy selfe,
And cripple thee vnto a Pagan shore,

Where these two Christian Armies might combine The bloud of malice, in
a vaine of league, And not to spend it so vn-neighbourly

Dolph. A noble temper dost thou shew in this, And great affections
wrastling in thy bosome Doth make an earth-quake of Nobility:

Oh, what a noble combat hast fought

Between compulsion, and a braue respect:

Let me wipe off this honourable dewe,

That siluerly doth progresse on thy cheekes: My heart hath melted at a
Ladies teares,

Being an ordinary Inundation:

But this effusion of such manly drops,

This showre, blowne vp by tempest of the soule, Startles mine eyes, and
makes me more amaz'd Then had I seene the vaultie top of heauen Figur'd
quite ore with burning Meteors.

Lift vp thy brow (renowned Salisburie)

And with a great heart heaue away this storme: Commend these waters to
those baby-eyes

That neuer saw the giant-world enrag'd,

Nor met with Fortune, other then at feasts, Full warm of blood, of
mirth, of gossipping: Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as
deepe Into the purse of rich prosperity

As Lewis himselfe: so (Nobles) shall you all, That knit your sinewes to
the strength of mine. Enter Pandulpho.

And euen there, methinkes an Angell spake, Looke where the holy Legate
comes apace,

To giue vs warrant from the hand of heauen, And on our actions set the
name of right

With holy breath

Pand. Haile noble Prince of France:

The next is this: King Iohn hath reconcil'd Himselfe to Rome, his
spirit is come in,

That so stood out against the holy Church, The great Metropolis and Sea
of Rome:

Therefore thy threatning Colours now winde vp, And tame the sauage
spirit of wilde warre, That like a Lion fostered vp at hand,

It may lie gently at the foot of peace,

And be no further harmefull then in shewe

Dol. Your Grace shall pardon me, I will not backe: I am too
high-borne to be proportied

To be a secondary at controll,

Or vsefull seruing-man, and Instrument

To any Soueraigne State throughout the world. Your breath first kindled
the dead coale of warres, Betweene this chastiz'd kingdome and my
selfe, And brought in matter that should feed this fire; And now 'tis
farre too huge to be blowne out With that same weake winde, which
enkindled it: You taught me how to know the face of right, Acquainted
me with interest to this Land, Yea, thrust this enterprize into my
heart, And come ye now to tell me Iohn hath made His peace with Rome?
what is that peace to me? I (by the honour of my marriage bed)

After yong Arthur, claime this Land for mine, And now it is halfe
conquer'd, must I backe, Because that Iohn hath made his peace with
Rome? Am I Romes slaue? What penny hath Rome borne? What men prouided?
What munition sent

To vnder-prop this Action? Is't not I

That vnder-goe this charge? Who else but I, And such as to my claime
are liable,

Sweat in this businesse, and maintaine this warre? Haue I not heard
these Islanders shout out Viue le Roy, as I haue bank'd their Townes?
Haue I not heere the best Cards for the game To winne this easie match,
plaid for a Crowne? And shall I now giue ore the yeelded Set? No, no,
on my soule it neuer shall be said

Pand. You looke but on the out-side of this worke

Dol. Out-side or in-side, I will not returne Till my attempt so much
be glorified,

As to my ample hope was promised,

Before I drew this gallant head of warre, And cull'd these fiery
spirits from the world To out-looke Conquest, and to winne renowne Euen
in the iawes of danger, and of death: What lusty Trumpet thus doth
summon vs?

Enter Bastard.

Bast. According to the faire-play of the world, Let me haue audience:
I am sent to speake: My holy Lord of Millane, from the King

I come to learne how you haue dealt for him: And, as you answer, I doe
know the scope

And warrant limited vnto my tongue

Pand. The Dolphin is too wilfull opposite And will not temporize
with my intreaties: He flatly saies, hee'll not lay downe his Armes

Bast. By all the bloud that euer fury breath'd, The youth saies
well. Now heare our English King, For thus his Royaltie doth speake in
me:

He is prepar'd, and reason to he should,

This apish and vnmannerly approach,

This harness'd Maske, and vnaduised Reuell, This vn-heard sawcinesse
and boyish Troopes, The King doth smile at, and is well prepar'd To
whip this dwarfish warre, this Pigmy Armes From out the circle of his
Territories.

That hand which had the strength, euen at your dore, To cudgell you,
and make you take the hatch, To diue like Buckets in concealed Welles,
To crowch in litter of your stable plankes, To lye like pawnes, lock'd
vp in chests and truncks, To hug with swine, to seeke sweet safety out
In vaults and prisons, and to thrill and shake, Euen at the crying of
your Nations crow,

Thinking this voyce an armed Englishman.

Shall that victorious hand be feebled heere, That in your Chambers gaue
you chasticement? No: know the gallant Monarch is in Armes, And like an
Eagle, o're his ayerie towres, To sowsse annoyance that comes neere his
Nest; And you degenerate, you ingrate Reuolts,

You bloudy Nero's, ripping vp the wombe

Of your deere Mother-England: blush for shame: For your owne Ladies,
and pale-visag'd Maides, Like Amazons, come tripping after drummes:
Their thimbles into armed Gantlets change, Their Needl's to Lances, and
their gentle hearts To fierce and bloody inclination

Dol. There end thy braue, and turn thy face in peace, We grant thou
canst out-scold vs: Far thee well, We hold our time too precious to be
spent with such a brabler

Pan. Giue me leaue to speake

Bast. No, I will speake

Dol. We will attend to neyther:

Strike vp the drummes, and let the tongue of warre Pleade for our
interest, and our being heere

Bast. Indeede your drums being beaten, wil cry out; And so shall
you, being beaten: Do but start An eccho with the clamor of thy
drumme,

And euen at hand, a drumme is readie brac'd, That shall reuerberate
all, as lowd as thine. Sound but another, and another shall

(As lowd as thine) rattle the Welkins eare, And mocke the deepe mouth'd
Thunder: for at hand (Not trusting to this halting Legate heere, Whom
he hath vs'd rather for sport, then neede) Is warlike Iohn: and in his
fore-head sits A bare-rib'd death, whose office is this day To feast
vpon whole thousands of the French

Dol. Strike vp our drummes, to finde this danger out

Bast. And thou shalt finde it (Dolphin) do not doubt

Exeunt.



Scaena Tertia.

Alarums. Enter Iohn and Hubert.

Iohn. How goes the day with vs? oh tell me Hubert

Hub. Badly I feare; how fares your Maiesty?   Iohn. This Feauer that
hath troubled me so long, Lyes heauie on me: oh, my heart is sicke.
Enter a Messenger.

Mes. My Lord: your valiant kinsman Falconbridge, Desires your
Maiestie to leaue the field, And send him word by me, which way you go

Iohn. Tell him toward Swinsted, to the Abbey there

Mes. Be of good comfort: for the great supply That was expected by
the Dolphin heere,

Are wrack'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands. This newes was brought
to Richard but euen now, The French fight coldly, and retyre
themselues

Iohn. Aye me, this tyrant Feauer burnes mee vp, And will not let me
welcome this good newes. Set on toward Swinsted: to my Litter straight,
Weaknesse possesseth me, and I am faint.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, and Bigot.

Sal. I did not thinke the King so stor'd with friends

Pem. Vp once againe: put spirit in the French, If they miscarry: we
miscarry too

Sal. That misbegotten diuell Falconbridge, In spight of spight,
alone vpholds the day

Pem. They say King Iohn sore sick, hath left the field. Enter Meloon
wounded.

Mel. Lead me to the Reuolts of England heere

Sal. When we were happie, we had other names

Pem. It is the Count Meloone

Sal. Wounded to death

Mel. Fly Noble English, you are bought and sold, Vnthred the rude
eye of Rebellion,

And welcome home againe discarded faith,

Seeke out King Iohn, and fall before his feete: For if the French be
Lords of this loud day, He meanes to recompence the paines you take, By
cutting off your heads: Thus hath he sworne, And I with him, and many
moe with mee,

Vpon the Altar at S[aint]. Edmondsbury,

Euen on that Altar, where we swore to you Deere Amity, and euerlasting
loue

Sal. May this be possible? May this be true?   Mel. Haue I not
hideous death within my view, Retaining but a quantity of life,

Which bleeds away, euen as a forme of waxe Resolueth from his figure
'gainst the fire? What in the world should make me now deceiue, Since I
must loose the vse of all deceite? Why should I then be false, since it
is true That I must dye heere, and liue hence, by Truth? I say againe,
if Lewis do win the day,

He is forsworne, if ere those eyes of yours Behold another day breake
in the East:

But euen this night, whose blacke contagious breath Already smoakes
about the burning Crest

Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied Sunne, Euen this ill night, your
breathing shall expire, Paying the fine of rated Treachery,

Euen with a treacherous fine of all your liues: If Lewis, by your
assistance win the day. Commend me to one Hubert, with your King; The
loue of him, and this respect besides (For that my Grandsire was an
Englishman) Awakes my Conscience to confesse all this. In lieu whereof,
I pray you beare me hence From forth the noise and rumour of the Field;
Where I may thinke the remnant of my thoughts In peace: and part this
bodie and my soule With contemplation, and deuout desires

Sal. We do beleeue thee, and beshrew my soule, But I do loue the
fauour, and the forme

Of this most faire occasion, by the which We will vntread the steps of
damned flight, And like a bated and retired Flood,

Leauing our ranknesse and irregular course, Stoope lowe within those
bounds we haue ore-look'd, And calmely run on in obedience

Euen to our Ocean, to our great King Iohn. My arme shall giue thee
helpe to beare thee hence, For I do see the cruell pangs of death

Right in thine eye. Away, my friends, new flight, And happie newnesse,
that intends old right.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Dolphin, and his Traine.

Dol. The Sun of heauen (me thought) was loth to set; But staid, and
made the Westerne Welkin blush, When English measure backward their
owne ground In faint Retire: Oh brauely came we off,

When with a volley of our needlesse shot, After such bloody toile, we
bid good night, And woon'd our tott'ring colours clearly vp, Last in
the field, and almost Lords of it. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Where is my Prince, the Dolphin?

Dol. Heere: what newes?

Mes. The Count Meloone is slaine: The English Lords By his
perswasion, are againe falne off,

And your supply, which you haue wish'd so long, Are cast away, and
sunke on Goodwin sands

Dol. Ah fowle, shrew'd newes. Beshrew thy very hart: I did not
thinke to be so sad to night

As this hath made me. Who was he that said King Iohn did flie an houre
or two before The stumbling night did part our wearie powres?   Mes.
Who euer spoke it, it is true my Lord

Dol. Well: keepe good quarter, & good care to night, The day shall
not be vp so soone as I,

To try the faire aduenture of to morrow.

Exeunt.

Scena Sexta.

Enter Bastard and Hubert, seuerally.

Hub. Whose there? Speake hoa, speake quickely, or I shoote

Bast. A Friend. What art thou?

Hub. Of the part of England

Bast. Whether doest thou go?

Hub. What's that to thee?

Why may not I demand of thine affaires,

As well as thou of mine?

Bast. Hubert, I thinke

Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought:

I will vpon all hazards well beleeue

Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well: Who art thou?

Bast. Who thou wilt: and if thou please Thou maist be-friend me so
much, as to thinke I come one way of the Plantagenets

Hub. Vnkinde remembrance: thou, & endles night, Haue done me shame:
Braue Soldier, pardon me, That any accent breaking from thy tongue,
Should scape the true acquaintance of mine eare

Bast. Come, come: sans complement, What newes abroad?

Hub. Why heere walke I in the black brow of night To finde you out

Bast. Breefe then: and what's the newes?   Hub. O my sweet sir,
newes fitting to the night, Blacke, fearefull, comfortlesse, and
horrible

Bast. Shew me the very wound of this ill newes, I am no woman, Ile
not swound at it

Hub. The King I feare is poyson'd by a Monke, I left him almost
speechlesse, and broke out To acquaint you with this euill, that you
might The better arme you to the sodaine time,

Then if you had at leisure knowne of this

Bast. How did he take it? Who did taste to him?   Hub. A Monke I
tell you, a resolued villaine Whose Bowels sodainly burst out: The King
Yet speakes, and peraduenture may recouer

Bast. Who didst thou leaue to tend his Maiesty?   Hub. Why know you
not? The Lords are all come backe,

And brought Prince Henry in their companie, At whose request the king
hath pardon'd them, And they are all about his Maiestie

Bast. With-hold thine indignation, mighty heauen, And tempt vs not
to beare aboue our power. Ile tell thee Hubert, halfe my power this
night Passing these Flats, are taken by the Tide, These Lincolne-Washes
haue deuoured them, My selfe, well mounted, hardly haue escap'd. Away
before: Conduct me to the king,

I doubt he will be dead, or ere I come.

Exeunt.

Scena Septima.

Enter Prince Henry, Salisburie, and Bigot.

Hen. It is too late, the life of all his blood Is touch'd,
corruptibly: and his pure braine (Which some suppose the soules fraile
dwelling house) Doth by the idle Comments that it makes,

Fore-tell the ending of mortality.

Enter Pembroke.

Pem. His Highnesse yet doth speak, & holds beleefe, That being
brought into the open ayre,

It would allay the burning qualitie

Of that fell poison which assayleth him

Hen. Let him be brought into the Orchard heere: Doth he still rage?

Pem. He is more patient

Then when you left him; euen now he sung

Hen. Oh vanity of sicknesse: fierce extreames In their continuance,
will not feele themselues. Death hauing praide vpon the outward parts
Leaues them inuisible, and his seige is now Against the winde, the
which he prickes and wounds With many legions of strange fantasies,

Which in their throng, and presse to that last hold, Counfound
themselues. 'Tis strange y death shold sing: I am the Symet to this
pale faint Swan,

Who chaunts a dolefull hymne to his owne death, And from the organ-pipe
of frailety sings His soule and body to their lasting rest

Sal. Be of good comfort (Prince) for you are borne To set a forme
vpon that indigest

Which he hath left so shapelesse, and so rude.

Iohn brought in.

Iohn. I marrie, now my soule hath elbow roome, It would not out at
windowes, nor at doores, There is so hot a summer in my bosome,

That all my bowels crumble vp to dust:

I am a scribled forme drawne with a pen

Vpon a Parchment, and against this fire

Do I shrinke vp

Hen. How fares your Maiesty?

Ioh. Poyson'd, ill fare: dead, forsooke, cast off, And none of you
will bid the winter come

To thrust his ycie fingers in my maw;

Nor let my kingdomes Riuers take their course Through my burn'd bosome:
nor intreat the North To make his bleake windes kisse my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold. I do not aske you much, I begge cold comfort:
and you are so straight And so ingratefull, you deny me that

Hen. Oh that there were some vertue in my teares, That might releeue
you

Iohn. The salt in them is hot.

Within me is a hell, and there the poyson Is, as a fiend, confin'd to
tyrannize,

On vnrepreeuable condemned blood.

Enter Bastard.

Bast. Oh, I am scalded with my violent motion And spleene of speede,
to see your Maiesty

Iohn. Oh Cozen, thou art come to set mine eye: The tackle of my
heart, is crack'd and burnt, And all the shrowds wherewith my life
should saile, Are turned to one thred, one little haire: My heart hath
one poore string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy newes be
vttered, And then all this thou seest, is but a clod, And module of
confounded royalty

Bast. The Dolphin is preparing hither-ward, Where heauen he knowes
how we shall answer him. For in a night the best part of my powre, As I
vpon aduantage did remoue,

Were in the Washes all vnwarily,

Deuoured by the vnexpected flood

Sal. You breath these dead newes in as dead an eare My Liege, my
Lord: but now a King, now thus

Hen. Euen so must I run on, and euen so stop. What surety of the
world, what hope, what stay, When this was now a King, and now is clay?
Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behinde, To do the office for
thee, of reuenge,

And then my soule shall waite on thee to heauen, As it on earth hath
bene thy seruant still. Now, now you Starres, that moue in your right
spheres, Where be your powres? Shew now your mended faiths, And
instantly returne with me againe.

To push destruction, and perpetuall shame Out of the weake doore of our
fainting Land: Straight let vs seeke, or straight we shall be sought,
The Dolphine rages at our verie heeles

Sal. It seemes you know not then so much as we, The Cardinall
Pandulph is within at rest, Who halfe an houre since came from the
Dolphin, And brings from him such offers of our peace, As we with honor
and respect may take,

With purpose presently to leaue this warre

Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees Our selues well sinew'd
to our defence

Sal. Nay, 'tis in a manner done already, For many carriages hee hath
dispatch'd

To the sea side, and put his cause and quarrell To the disposing of the
Cardinall,

With whom your selfe, my selfe, and other Lords, If you thinke meete,
this afternoone will poast To consummate this businesse happily

Bast. Let it be so, and you my noble Prince, With other Princes that
may best be spar'd, Shall waite vpon your Fathers Funerall

Hen. At Worster must his bodie be interr'd, For so he will'd it

Bast. Thither shall it then,

And happily may your sweet selfe put on

The lineall state, and glorie of the Land, To whom with all submission
on my knee,

I do bequeath my faithfull seruices

And true subiection euerlastingly

Sal. And the like tender of our loue wee make To rest without a spot
for euermore

Hen. I haue a kinde soule, that would giue thankes, And knowes not
how to do it, but with teares

Bast. Oh let vs pay the time: but needfull woe, Since it hath beene
before hand with our greefes. This England neuer did, nor neuer shall

Lye at the proud foote of a Conqueror,

But when it first did helpe to wound it selfe. Now, these her Princes
are come home againe, Come the three corners of the world in Armes, And
we shall shocke them: Naught shall make vs rue, If England to it selfe,
do rest but true.

Exeunt.

The life and death of King Iohn.



The life and death of King Richard the Second

Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.

Enter King Richard, Iohn of Gaunt, with other Nobles and Attendants.

King Richard. Old Iohn of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster, Hast thou
according to thy oath and band

Brought hither Henry Herford thy bold son: Heere to make good y
boistrous late appeale, Which then our leysure would not let vs heare,
Against the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray?   Gaunt. I haue my Liege

King. Tell me moreouer, hast thou sounded him, If he appeale the
Duke on ancient malice, Or worthily as a good subiect should

On some knowne ground of treacherie in him

Gaunt. As neere as I could sift him on that argument, On some
apparant danger seene in him,

Aym'd at your Highnesse, no inueterate malice

Kin. Then call them to our presence face to face, And frowning brow
to brow, our selues will heare Th' accuser, and the accused, freely
speake; High stomack'd are they both, and full of ire, In rage, deafe
as the sea; hastie as fire. Enter Bullingbrooke and Mowbray.

Bul. Many yeares of happy dayes befall

My gracious Soueraigne, my most louing Liege

Mow. Each day still better others happinesse, Vntill the heauens
enuying earths good hap, Adde an immortall title to your Crowne

King. We thanke you both, yet one but flatters vs, As well appeareth
by the cause you come,

Namely, to appeale each other of high treason. Coosin of Hereford, what
dost thou obiect Against the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray?   Bul.
First, heauen be the record to my speech, In the deuotion of a subiects
loue,

Tendering the precious safetie of my Prince, And free from other
misbegotten hate,

Come I appealant to this Princely presence. Now Thomas Mowbray do I
turne to thee,

And marke my greeting well: for what I speake, My body shall make good
vpon this earth,

Or my diuine soule answer it in heauen.

Thou art a Traitor, and a Miscreant;

Too good to be so, and too bad to liue,

Since the more faire and christall is the skie, The vglier seeme the
cloudes that in it flye: Once more, the more to aggrauate the note,
With a foule Traitors name stuffe I thy throte, And wish (so please my
Soueraigne) ere I moue, What my tong speaks, my right drawn sword may
proue   Mow. Let not my cold words heere accuse my zeale: 'Tis not the
triall of a Womans warre,

The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,

Can arbitrate this cause betwixt vs twaine: The blood is hot that must
be cool'd for this. Yet can I not of such tame patience boast, As to be
husht, and nought at all to say. First the faire reuerence of your
Highnesse curbes mee, From giuing reines and spurres to my free speech,
Which else would post, vntill it had return'd These tearmes of treason,
doubly downe his throat. Setting aside his high bloods royalty,

And let him be no Kinsman to my Liege,

I do defie him, and I spit at him,

Call him a slanderous Coward, and a Villaine: Which to maintaine, I
would allow him oddes, And meete him, were I tide to runne afoote, Euen
to the frozen ridges of the Alpes,

Or any other ground inhabitable,

Where euer Englishman durst set his foote. Meane time, let this defend
my loyaltie,

By all my hopes most falsely doth he lie

Bul. Pale trembling Coward, there I throw my gage, Disclaiming heere
the kindred of a King,

And lay aside my high bloods Royalty,

Which feare, not reuerence makes thee to except. If guilty dread hath
left thee so much strength, As to take vp mine Honors pawne, then
stoope. By that, and all the rites of Knight-hood else, Will I make
good against thee arme to arme, What I haue spoken, or thou canst
deuise

Mow. I take it vp, and by that sword I sweare, Which gently laid my
Knight-hood on my shoulder, Ile answer thee in any faire degree,

Or Chiualrous designe of knightly triall: And when I mount, aliue may I
not light,

If I be Traitor, or vniustly fight

King. What doth our Cosin lay to Mowbraies charge? It must be great
that can inherite vs,

So much as of a thought of ill in him

Bul. Looke what I said, my life shall proue it true, That Mowbray
hath receiu'd eight thousand Nobles, In name of lendings for your
Highnesse Soldiers, The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments,
Like a false Traitor, and iniurious Villaine. Besides I say, and will
in battaile proue, Or heere, or elsewhere to the furthest Verge That
euer was suruey'd by English eye,

That all the Treasons for these eighteene yeeres Complotted, and
contriued in this Land,

Fetch'd from false Mowbray their first head and spring. Further I say,
and further will maintaine Vpon his bad life, to make all this good.
That he did plot the Duke of Glousters death, Suggest his soone
beleeuing aduersaries,

And consequently, like a Traitor Coward,

Sluc'd out his innocent soule through streames of blood: Which blood,
like sacrificing Abels cries, (Euen from the toonglesse cauernes of the
earth) To me for iustice, and rough chasticement: And by the glorious
worth of my discent,

This arme shall do it, or this life be spent

King. How high a pitch his resolution soares: Thomas of Norfolke,
what sayest thou to this?   Mow. Oh let my Soueraigne turne away his
face, And bid his eares a little while be deafe, Till I haue told this
slander of his blood, How God, and good men, hate so foule a lyar

King. Mowbray, impartiall are our eyes and eares, Were he my
brother, nay our kingdomes heyre, As he is but my fathers brothers
sonne;

Now by my Scepters awe, I make a vow,

Such neighbour-neerenesse to our sacred blood, Should nothing
priuiledge him, nor partialize The vn-stooping firmenesse of my vpright
soule. He is our subiect (Mowbray) so art thou,

Free speech, and fearelesse, I to thee allow

Mow. Then Bullingbrooke, as low as to thy heart, Through the false
passage of thy throat; thou lyest: Three parts of that receipt I had
for Callice, Disburst I to his Highnesse souldiers;

The other part reseru'd I by consent,

For that my Soueraigne Liege was in my debt, Vpon remainder of a deere
Accompt,

Since last I went to France to fetch his Queene: Now swallow downe that
Lye. For Glousters death, I slew him not; but (to mine owne disgrace)
Neglected my sworne duty in that case:

For you my noble Lord of Lancaster,

The honourable Father to my foe,

Once I did lay an ambush for your life,

A trespasse that doth vex my greeued soule: But ere I last receiu'd the
Sacrament,

I did confesse it, and exactly begg'd

Your Graces pardon, and I hope I had it.

This is my fault: as for the rest appeal'd, It issues from the rancour
of a Villaine, A recreant, and most degenerate Traitor,

Which in my selfe I boldly will defend,

And interchangeably hurle downe my gage

Vpon this ouer-weening Traitors foote,

To proue my selfe a loyall Gentleman,

Euen in the best blood chamber'd in his bosome. In hast whereof, most
heartily I pray

Your Highnesse to assigne our Triall day

King. Wrath-kindled Gentlemen be rul'd by me: Let's purge this
choller without letting blood: This we prescribe, though no Physition,

Deepe malice makes too deepe incision.

Forget, forgiue, conclude, and be agreed, Our Doctors say, This is no
time to bleed. Good Vnckle, let this end where it begun, Wee'l calme
the Duke of Norfolke; you, your son

Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my age, Throw downe (my
sonne) the Duke of Norfolkes gage

King. And Norfolke, throw downe his

Gaunt. When Harrie when? Obedience bids, Obedience bids I should not
bid agen

King. Norfolke, throw downe, we bidde; there is no boote

Mow. My selfe I throw (dread Soueraigne) at thy foot. My life thou
shalt command, but not my shame, The one my dutie owes, but my faire
name

Despight of death, that liues vpon my graue To darke dishonours vse,
thou shalt not haue. I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffel'd heere,
Pierc'd to the soule with slanders venom'd speare: The which no balme
can cure, but his heart blood Which breath'd this poyson

King. Rage must be withstood:

Giue me his gage: Lyons make Leopards tame

Mo. Yea, but not change his spots: take but my shame, And I resigne
my gage. My deere, deere Lord, The purest treasure mortall times
afford

Is spotlesse reputation: that away,

Men are but gilded loame, or painted clay. A Iewell in a ten times
barr'd vp Chest,

Is a bold spirit, in a loyall brest.

Mine Honor is my life; both grow in one:

Take Honor from me, and my life is done.

Then (deere my Liege) mine Honor let me trie, In that I liue; and for
that will I die

King. Coosin, throw downe your gage,

Do you begin

Bul. Oh heauen defend my soule from such foule sin. Shall I seeme
Crest-falne in my fathers sight, Or with pale beggar-feare impeach my
hight Before this out-dar'd dastard? Ere my toong, Shall wound mine
honor with such feeble wrong; Or sound so base a parle: my teeth shall
teare The slauish motiue of recanting feare,

And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, Where shame doth harbour,
euen in Mowbrayes face.

Exit Gaunt.

King. We were not borne to sue, but to command, Which since we cannot
do to make you friends, Be readie, (as your liues shall answer it) At
Couentree, vpon S[aint]. Lamberts day: There shall your swords and
Lances arbitrate The swelling difference of your setled hate: Since we
cannot attone you, you shall see Iustice designe the Victors
Chiualrie.

Lord Marshall, command our Officers at Armes, Be readie to direct these
home Alarmes.

Exeunt.



Scaena Secunda.

Enter Gaunt, and Dutchesse of Gloucester.

Gaunt. Alas, the part I had in Glousters blood, Doth more solicite me
then your exclaimes, To stirre against the Butchers of his life. But
since correction lyeth in those hands Which made the fault that we
cannot correct, Put we our quarrell to the will of heauen, Who when
they see the houres ripe on earth, Will raigne hot vengeance on
offenders heads

Dut. Findes brotherhood in thee no sharper spurre? Hath loue in thy
old blood no liuing fire? Edwards seuen sonnes (whereof thy selfe art
one) Were as seuen violles of his Sacred blood, Or seuen faire branches
springing from one roote: Some of those seuen are dride by natures
course, Some of those branches by the destinies cut: But Thomas, my
deere Lord, my life, my Glouster, One Violl full of Edwards Sacred
blood,

One flourishing branch of his most Royall roote Is crack'd, and all the
precious liquor spilt; Is hackt downe, and his summer leafes all vaded
By Enuies hand, and Murders bloody Axe.

Ah Gaunt! His blood was thine, that bed, that wombe, That mettle, that
selfe-mould that fashion'd thee, Made him a man: and though thou
liu'st, and breath'st, Yet art thou slaine in him: thou dost consent In
some large measure to thy Fathers death, In that thou seest thy
wretched brother dye, Who was the modell of thy Fathers life.

Call it not patience (Gaunt) it is dispaire, In suffring thus thy
brother to be slaughter'd, Thou shew'st the naked pathway to thy life,
Teaching sterne murther how to butcher thee: That which in meane men we
intitle patience Is pale cold cowardice in noble brests:

What shall I say, to safegard thine owne life, The best way is to venge
my Glousters death

Gaunt. Heauens is the quarrell: for heauens substitute His Deputy
annointed in his sight,

Hath caus'd his death, the which if wrongfully Let heauen reuenge: for
I may neuer lift

An angry arme against his Minister

Dut. Where then (alas may I) complaint my selfe?   Gau. To heauen,
the widdowes Champion to defence   Dut. Why then I will: farewell old
Gaunt. Thou go'st to Couentrie, there to behold

Our Cosine Herford, and fell Mowbray fight: O sit my husbands wrongs on
Herfords speare, That it may enter butcher Mowbrayes brest: Or if
misfortune misse the first carreere, Be Mowbrayes sinnes so heauy in
his bosome, That they may breake his foaming Coursers backe, And throw
the Rider headlong in the Lists, A Caytiffe recreant to my Cosine
Herford: Farewell old Gaunt, thy sometimes brothers wife With her
companion Greefe, must end her life

Gau. Sister farewell: I must to Couentree, As much good stay with
thee, as go with mee

Dut. Yet one word more: Greefe boundeth where it falls, Not with the
emptie hollownes, but weight: I take my leaue, before I haue begun,

For sorrow ends not, when it seemeth done. Commend me to my brother
Edmund Yorke.

Loe, this is all: nay, yet depart not so, Though this be all, do not so
quickly go, I shall remember more. Bid him, Oh, what? With all good
speed at Plashie visit mee. Alacke, and what shall good old Yorke there
see But empty lodgings, and vnfurnish'd walles, Vn-peopel'd Offices,
vntroden stones?

And what heare there for welcome, but my grones? Therefore commend me,
let him not come there, To seeke out sorrow, that dwels euery where:
Desolate, desolate will I hence, and dye, The last leaue of thee, takes
my weeping eye.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Marshall, and Aumerle.

Mar. My L[ord]. Aumerle, is Harry Herford arm'd

Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in

Mar. The Duke of Norfolke, sprightfully and bold, Stayes but the
summons of the Appealants Trumpet

Au. Why then the Champions, are prepar'd, and stay For nothing but
his Maiesties approach.

Flourish.

Enter King, Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Greene, & others: Then Mowbray in
Armor,

and Harrold.

Rich. Marshall, demand of yonder Champion The cause of his arriuall
heere in Armes, Aske him his name, and orderly proceed

To sweare him in the iustice of his cause

Mar. In Gods name, and the Kings say who y art, And why thou com'st
thus knightly clad in Armes? Against what man thou com'st, and what's
thy quarrell, Speake truly on thy knighthood, and thine oath, As so
defend thee heauen, and thy valour

Mow. My name is Tho[mas]. Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, Who hither comes
engaged by my oath

(Which heauen defend a knight should violate) Both to defend my loyalty
and truth,

To God, my King, and his succeeding issue, Against the Duke of Herford,
that appeales me: And by the grace of God, and this mine arme, To proue
him (in defending of my selfe)

A Traitor to my God, my King, and me,

And as I truly fight, defend me heauen.

Tucket. Enter Hereford, and Harold.

Rich. Marshall: Aske yonder Knight in Armes, Both who he is, and why
he commeth hither, Thus placed in habiliments of warre:

And formerly according to our Law

Depose him in the iustice of his cause

Mar. What is thy name? and wherfore comst y hither Before King
Richard in his Royall Lists?

Against whom com'st thou? and what's thy quarrell? Speake like a true
Knight, so defend thee heauen

Bul. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie, Am I: who ready heere
do stand in Armes,

To proue by heauens grace, and my bodies valour, In Lists, on Thomas
Mowbray Duke of Norfolke, That he's a Traitor foule, and dangerous, To
God of heauen, King Richard, and to me, And as I truly fight, defend me
heauen

Mar. On paine of death, no person be so bold, Or daring hardie as to
touch the Listes,

Except the Marshall, and such Officers

Appointed to direct these faire designes

Bul. Lord Marshall, let me kisse my Soueraigns hand, And bow my knee
before his Maiestie:

For Mowbray and my selfe are like two men, That vow a long and weary
pilgrimage,

Then let vs take a ceremonious leaue

And louing farwell of our seuerall friends

Mar. The Appealant in all duty greets your Highnes, And craues to
kisse your hand, and take his leaue

Rich. We will descend, and fold him in our armes. Cosin of Herford,
as thy cause is iust,

So be thy fortune in this Royall fight:

Farewell, my blood, which if to day thou shead, Lament we may, but not
reuenge thee dead

Bull. Oh let no noble eye prophane a teare For me, if I be gor'd
with Mowbrayes speare: As confident, as is the Falcons flight

Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.

My louing Lord, I take my leaue of you,

Of you (my Noble Cosin) Lord Aumerle;

Not sicke, although I haue to do with death, But lustie, yong, and
cheerely drawing breath. Loe, as at English Feasts, so I regreete

The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. Oh thou the earthy
author of my blood,

Whose youthfull spirit in me regenerate,

Doth with a two-fold rigor lift mee vp

To reach at victory aboue my head,

Adde proofe vnto mine Armour with thy prayres, And with thy blessings
steele my Lances point, That it may enter Mowbrayes waxen Coate,

And furnish new the name of Iohn a Gaunt, Euen in the lusty hauiour of
his sonne

Gaunt. Heauen in thy good cause make thee prosp'rous Be swift like
lightning in the execution, And let thy blowes doubly redoubled,

Fall like amazing thunder on the Caske

Of thy amaz'd pernicious enemy.

Rouze vp thy youthfull blood, be valiant, and liue

Bul. Mine innocence, and S[aint]. George to thriue

Mow. How euer heauen or fortune cast my lot, There liues, or dies,
true to Kings Richards Throne, A loyall, iust, and vpright Gentleman:

Neuer did Captiue with a freer heart,

Cast off his chaines of bondage, and embrace His golden vncontroul'd
enfranchisement,

More then my dancing soule doth celebrate This Feast of Battell, with
mine Aduersarie. Most mighty Liege, and my companion Peeres, Take from
my mouth, the wish of happy yeares, As gentle, and as iocond, as to
iest,

Go I to fight: Truth, hath a quiet brest

Rich. Farewell, my Lord, securely I espy Vertue with Valour, couched
in thine eye: Order the triall Marshall, and begin

Mar. Harrie of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby, Receiue thy Launce,
and heauen defend thy right

Bul. Strong as a towre in hope, I cry Amen

Mar. Go beare this Lance to Thomas D[uke]. of Norfolke

1.Har. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie, Stands heere for
God, his Soueraigne, and himselfe, On paine to be found false, and
recreant, To proue the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray, A Traitor to
his God, his King, and him,

And dares him to set forwards to the fight

2.Har. Here standeth Tho[mas]: Mowbray Duke of Norfolk On paine to
be found false and recreant,

Both to defend himselfe, and to approue

Henry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby,

To God, his Soueraigne, and to him disloyall: Couragiously, and with a
free desire

Attending but the signall to begin.

A charge sounded

Mar. Sound Trumpets, and set forward Combatants: Stay, the King hath
throwne his Warder downe

Rich. Let them lay by their Helmets & their Speares, And both
returne backe to their Chaires againe: Withdraw with vs, and let the
Trumpets sound, While we returne these Dukes what we decree.

A long Flourish.

Draw neere and list

What with our Councell we haue done.

For that our kingdomes earth should not be soyld With that deere blood
which it hath fostered, And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect

Of ciuill wounds plowgh'd vp with neighbors swords, Which so rouz'd vp
with boystrous vntun'd drummes, With harsh resounding Trumpets
dreadfull bray, And grating shocke of wrathfull yron Armes, Might from
our quiet Confines fright faire peace, And make vs wade euen in our
kindreds blood: Therefore, we banish you our Territories. You Cosin
Herford, vpon paine of death,

Till twice fiue Summers haue enrich'd our fields, Shall not regreet our
faire dominions,

But treade the stranger pathes of banishment

Bul. Your will be done: This must my comfort be, That Sun that
warmes you heere, shall shine on me: And those his golden beames to you
heere lent, Shall point on me, and gild my banishment

Rich. Norfolke: for thee remaines a heauier dombe, Which I with some
vnwillingnesse pronounce, The slye slow houres shall not determinate
The datelesse limit of thy deere exile:

The hopelesse word, of Neuer to returne,

Breath I against thee, vpon paine of life

Mow. A heauy sentence, my most Soueraigne Liege, And all vnlook'd
for from your Highnesse mouth: A deerer merit, not so deepe a maime,

As to be cast forth in the common ayre

Haue I deserued at your Highnesse hands.

The Language I haue learn'd these forty yeares (My natiue English) now
I must forgo,

And now my tongues vse is to me no more,

Then an vnstringed Vyall, or a Harpe,

Or like a cunning Instrument cas'd vp,

Or being open, put into his hands

That knowes no touch to tune the harmony. Within my mouth you haue
engaol'd my tongue, Doubly percullist with my teeth and lippes, And
dull, vnfeeling, barren ignorance,

Is made my Gaoler to attend on me:

I am too old to fawne vpon a Nurse,

Too farre in yeeres to be a pupill now:

What is thy sentence then, but speechlesse death, Which robs my tongue
from breathing natiue breath?   Rich. It boots thee not to be
compassionate, After our sentence, plaining comes too late

Mow. Then thus I turne me from my countries light To dwell in
solemne shades of endlesse night

Ric. Returne againe, and take an oath with thee, Lay on our Royall
sword, your banisht hands; Sweare by the duty that you owe to heauen
(Our part therein we banish with your selues) To keepe the Oath that we
administer:

You neuer shall (so helpe you Truth, and Heauen) Embrace each others
loue in banishment,

Nor euer looke vpon each others face,

Nor euer write, regreete, or reconcile

This lowring tempest of your home-bred hate, Nor euer by aduised
purpose meete,

To plot, contriue, or complot any ill,

'Gainst Vs, our State, our Subiects, or our Land

Bull. I sweare

Mow. And I, to keepe all this

Bul. Norfolke, so fare, as to mine enemie, By this time (had the
King permitted vs)

One of our soules had wandred in the ayre, Banish'd this fraile
sepulchre of our flesh, As now our flesh is banish'd from this Land.
Confesse thy Treasons, ere thou flye this Realme, Since thou hast farre
to go, beare not along The clogging burthen of a guilty soule

Mow. No Bullingbroke: If euer I were Traitor, My name be blotted
from the booke of Life, And I from heauen banish'd, as from hence: But
what thou art, heauen, thou, and I do know, And all too soone (I feare)
the King shall rue. Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I stray, Saue
backe to England, all the worlds my way. Enter.

Rich. Vncle, euen in the glasses of thine eyes I see thy greeued
heart: thy sad aspect,

Hath from the number of his banish'd yeares Pluck'd foure away: Six
frozen Winters spent, Returne with welcome home, from banishment

Bul. How long a time lyes in one little word: Foure lagging Winters,
and foure wanton springs End in a word, such is the breath of Kings

Gaunt. I thanke my Liege, that in regard of me He shortens foure
yeares of my sonnes exile: But little vantage shall I reape thereby.
For ere the sixe yeares that he hath to spend Can change their Moones,
and bring their times about, My oyle-dride Lampe, and time-bewasted
light Shall be extinct with age, and endlesse night: My inch of Taper,
will be burnt, and done, And blindfold death, not let me see my sonne

Rich. Why Vncle, thou hast many yeeres to liue

Gaunt. But not a minute (King) that thou canst giue; Shorten my
dayes thou canst with sudden sorow, And plucke nights from me, but not
lend a morrow: Thou canst helpe time to furrow me with age, But stop no
wrinkle in his pilgrimage:

Thy word is currant with him, for my death, But dead, thy kingdome
cannot buy my breath

Ric. Thy sonne is banish'd vpon good aduice, Whereto thy tongue a
party-verdict gaue,

Why at our Iustice seem'st thou then to lowre?   Gau. Things sweet to
tast, proue in digestion sowre: You vrg'd me as a Iudge, but I had
rather You would haue bid me argue like a Father. Alas, I look'd when
some of you should say, I was too strict to make mine owne away:

But you gaue leaue to my vnwilling tong,

Against my will, to do my selfe this wrong

Rich. Cosine farewell: and Vncle bid him so: Six yeares we banish
him, and he shall go. Enter.

Flourish.

Au. Cosine farewell: what presence must not know From where you do
remaine, let paper show

Mar. My Lord, no leaue take I, for I will ride As farre as land will
let me, by your side

Gaunt. Oh to what purpose dost thou hord thy words, That thou
returnst no greeting to thy friends?   Bull. I haue too few to take my
leaue of you, When the tongues office should be prodigall, To breath
th' abundant dolour of the heart

Gau. Thy greefe is but thy absence for a time

Bull. Ioy absent, greefe is present for that time

Gau. What is sixe Winters, they are quickely gone?   Bul. To men in
ioy, but greefe makes one houre ten

Gau. Call it a trauell that thou tak'st for pleasure

Bul. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so, Which findes it an
inforced Pilgrimage

Gau. The sullen passage of thy weary steppes Esteeme a soyle,
wherein thou art to set

The precious Iewell of thy home returne

Bul. Oh who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frostie
Caucasus?

Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,

By bare imagination of a Feast?

Or Wallow naked in December snow

By thinking on fantasticke summers heate? Oh no, the apprehension of
the good

Giues but the greater feeling to the worse: Fell sorrowes tooth, doth
euer ranckle more Then when it bites, but lanceth not the sore

Gau. Come, come (my son) Ile bring thee on thy way Had I thy youth,
and cause, I would not stay

Bul. Then Englands ground farewell: sweet soil adieu, My Mother, and
my Nurse, which beares me yet: Where ere I wander, boast of this I
can,

Though banish'd, yet a true-borne Englishman.

Scoena Quarta.

Enter King, Aumerle, Greene, and Bagot.

Rich. We did obserue. Cosine Aumerle,

How far brought you high Herford on his way?   Aum. I brought high
Herford (if you call him so) But to the next high way, and there I left
him

Rich. And say, what store of parting tears were shed?   Aum. Faith
none for me: except the Northeast wind Which then grew bitterly against
our face, Awak'd the sleepie rhewme, and so by chance Did grace our
hollow parting with a teare

Rich. What said our Cosin when you parted with him?   Au. Farewell:
and for my hart disdained y my tongue Should so prophane the word, that
taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such greefe, That word
seem'd buried in my sorrowes graue. Marry, would the word Farwell, haue
lengthen'd houres, And added yeeres to his short banishment, He should
haue had a volume of Farwels,

But since it would not, he had none of me

Rich. He is our Cosin (Cosin) but 'tis doubt, When time shall call
him home from banishment, Whether our kinsman come to see his friends,
Our selfe, and Bushy: heere Bagot and Greene Obseru'd his Courtship to
the common people: How he did seeme to diue into their hearts, With
humble, and familiar courtesie,

What reuerence he did throw away on slaues; Wooing poore Craftes-men,
with the craft of soules, And patient vnder-bearing of his Fortune, As
'twere to banish their affects with him. Off goes his bonnet to an
Oyster-wench,

A brace of Dray-men bid God speed him well, And had the tribute of his
supple knee,

With thankes my Countrimen, my louing friends, As were our England in
reuersion his,

And he our subiects next degree in hope

Gr. Well, he is gone, & with him go these thoughts: Now for the
Rebels, which stand out in Ireland, Expedient manage must be made my
Liege

Ere further leysure, yeeld them further meanes For their aduantage, and
your Highnesse losse

Ric. We will our selfe in person to this warre, And for our Coffers,
with too great a Court, And liberall Largesse, are growne somewhat
light, We are inforc'd to farme our royall Realme, The Reuennew whereof
shall furnish vs

For our affayres in hand: if that come short Our Substitutes at home
shall haue Blanke-charters: Whereto, when they shall know what men are
rich, They shall subscribe them for large summes of Gold, And send them
after to supply our wants:

For we will make for Ireland presently.

Enter Bushy.

Bushy, what newes?

Bu. Old Iohn of Gaunt is verie sicke my Lord, Sodainly taken, and
hath sent post haste

To entreat your Maiesty to visit him

Ric. Where lyes he?

Bu. At Ely house

Ric. Now put it (heauen) in his Physitians minde, To helpe him to
his graue immediately:

The lining of his coffers shall make Coates To decke our souldiers for
these Irish warres. Come Gentlemen, let's all go visit him:

Pray heauen we may make hast, and come too late. Enter.



Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Gaunt, sicke with Yorke.

Gau. Will the King come, that I may breath my last In wholsome
counsell to his vnstaid youth?   Yor. Vex not your selfe, nor striue
not with your breth, For all in vaine comes counsell to his eare

Gau. Oh but (they say) the tongues of dying men Inforce attention
like deepe harmony;

Where words are scarse, they are seldome spent in vaine, For they
breath truth, that breath their words in paine. He that no more must
say, is listen'd more, Then they whom youth and ease haue taught to
glose, More are mens ends markt, then their liues before, The setting
Sun, and Musicke in the close As the last taste of sweetes, is sweetest
last, Writ in remembrance, more then things long past; Though Richard
my liues counsell would not heare, My deaths sad tale, may yet vndeafe
his eare

Yor. No, it is stopt with other flatt'ring sounds As praises of his
state: then there are found Lasciuious Meeters, to whose venom sound

The open eare of youth doth alwayes listen. Report of fashions in proud
Italy,

Whose manners still our tardie apish Nation Limpes after in base
imitation.

Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, So it be new, there's no
respect how vile, That is not quickly buz'd into his eares? That all
too late comes counsell to be heard, Where will doth mutiny with wits
regard:

Direct not him, whose way himselfe will choose, Tis breath thou lackst,
and that breath wilt thou loose

Gaunt. Me thinkes I am a Prophet new inspir'd, And thus expiring, do
foretell of him,

His rash fierce blaze of Ryot cannot last, For violent fires soone
burne out themselues, Small showres last long, but sodaine stormes are
short, He tyres betimes, that spurs too fast betimes; With eager
feeding, food doth choake the feeder: Light vanity, insatiate
cormorant,

Consuming meanes soone preyes vpon it selfe. This royall Throne of
Kings, this sceptred Isle, This earth of Maiesty, this seate of Mars,
This other Eden, demy paradise,

This Fortresse built by Nature for her selfe, Against infection, and
the hand of warre: This happy breed of men, this little world, This
precious stone, set in the siluer sea, Which serues it in the office of
a wall,

Or as a Moate defensiue to a house,

Against the enuy of lesse happier Lands,

This blessed plot, this earth, this Realme, this England, This Nurse,
this teeming wombe of Royall Kings, Fear'd by their breed, and famous
for their birth, Renowned for their deeds, as farre from home, For
Christian seruice, and true Chiualrie, As is the sepulcher in stubborne
Iury

Of the Worlds ransome, blessed Maries Sonne. This Land of such deere
soules, this deere-deere Land, Deere for her reputation through the
world, Is now Leas'd out (I dye pronouncing it)

Like to a Tenement or pelting Farme.

England bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beates
backe the enuious siedge Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With Inky blottes, and rotten Parchment bonds. That England, that was
wont to conquer others, Hath made a shamefull conquest of it selfe. Ah!
would the scandall vanish with my life, How happy then were my ensuing
death?

Enter King, Queene, Aumerle, Bushy, Greene, Bagot, Ros, and
Willoughby.

Yor. The King is come, deale mildly with his youth, For young hot
Colts, being rag'd, do rage the more

Qu. How fares our noble Vncle Lancaster?   Ri. What comfort man? How
ist with aged Gaunt?   Ga. Oh how that name befits my composition: Old
Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old: Within me greefe hath kept a
tedious fast, And who abstaynes from meate, that is not gaunt? For
sleeping England long time haue I watcht, Watching breeds leannesse,
leannesse is all gaunt. The pleasure that some Fathers feede vpon, Is
my strict fast, I meane my Childrens lookes, And therein fasting, hast
thou made me gaunt: Gaunt am I for the graue, gaunt as a graue, Whose
hollow wombe inherits naught but bones

Ric. Can sicke men play so nicely with their names?   Gau. No,
misery makes sport to mocke it selfe: Since thou dost seeke to kill my
name in mee, I mocke my name (great King) to flatter thee

Ric. Should dying men flatter those that liue?   Gau. No, no, men
liuing flatter those that dye

Rich. Thou now a dying, sayst thou flatter'st me

Gau. Oh no, thou dyest, though I the sicker be

Rich. I am in health, I breath, I see thee ill

Gau. Now he that made me, knowes I see thee ill: Ill in my selfe to
see, and in thee, seeing ill, Thy death-bed is no lesser then the Land,
Wherein thou lyest in reputation sicke,

And thou too care-lesse patient as thou art, Commit'st thy 'anointed
body to the cure

Of those Physitians, that first wounded thee. A thousand flatterers sit
within thy Crowne, Whose compasse is no bigger then thy head, And yet
incaged in so small a Verge,

The waste is no whit lesser then thy Land: Oh had thy Grandsire with a
Prophets eye, Seene how his sonnes sonne, should destroy his sonnes,
From forth thy reach he would haue laid thy shame, Deposing thee before
thou wert possest,

Which art possest now to depose thy selfe. Why (Cosine) were thou
Regent of the world, It were a shame to let his Land by lease: But for
thy world enioying but this Land, Is it not more then shame, to shame
it so? Landlord of England art thou, and not King: Thy state of Law, is
bondslaue to the law, And-

Rich. And thou, a lunaticke leane-witted foole, Presuming on an Agues
priuiledge,

Dar'st with thy frozen admonition

Make pale our cheeke, chasing the Royall blood With fury, from his
natiue residence?

Now by my Seates right Royall Maiestie,

Wer't thou not Brother to great Edwards sonne, This tongue that runs so
roundly in thy head, Should run thy head from thy vnreuerent shoulders

Gau. Oh spare me not, my brothers Edwards sonne, For that I was his
Father Edwards sonne:

That blood already (like the Pellican)

Thou hast tapt out, and drunkenly carows'd. My brother Gloucester,
plaine well meaning soule (Whom faire befall in heauen 'mongst happy
soules) May be a president, and witnesse good,

That thou respect'st not spilling Edwards blood: Ioyne with the present
sicknesse that I haue, And thy vnkindnesse be like crooked age,

To crop at once a too-long wither'd flowre. Liue in thy shame, but dye
not shame with thee, These words heereafter, thy tormentors bee. Conuey
me to my bed, then to my graue,

Loue they to liue, that loue and honor haue.

Exit

Rich. And let them dye, that age and sullens haue, For both hast
thou, and both become the graue

Yor. I do beseech your Maiestie impute his words To wayward
sicklinesse, and age in him:

He loues you on my life, and holds you deere As Harry Duke of Herford,
were he heere

Rich. Right, you say true: as Herfords loue, so his; As theirs, so
mine: and all be as it is.

Enter Northumberland.

Nor. My Liege, olde Gaunt commends him to your Maiestie

Rich. What sayes he?

Nor. Nay nothing, all is said:

His tongue is now a stringlesse instrument, Words, life, and all, old
Lancaster hath spent

Yor. Be Yorke the next, that must be bankrupt so, Though death be
poore, it ends a mortall wo

Rich. The ripest fruit first fals, and so doth he, His time is
spent, our pilgrimage must be: So much for that. Now for our Irish
warres, We must supplant those rough rug-headed Kernes, Which liue like
venom, where no venom else But onely they, haue priuiledge to liue.

And for these great affayres do aske some charge Towards our
assistance, we do seize to vs The plate, coine, reuennewes, and
moueables, Whereof our Vncle Gaunt did stand possest

Yor. How long shall I be patient? Oh how long Shall tender dutie
make me suffer wrong?

Not Glousters death, nor Herfords banishment, Nor Gauntes rebukes, nor
Englands priuate wrongs, Nor the preuention of poore Bullingbrooke,
About his marriage, nor my owne disgrace

Haue euer made me sowre my patient cheeke, Or bend one wrinckle on my
Soueraignes face: I am the last of noble Edwards sonnes,

Of whom thy Father Prince of Wales was first, In warre was neuer Lyon
rag'd more fierce: In peace, was neuer gentle Lambe more milde, Then
was that yong and Princely Gentleman, His face thou hast, for euen so
look'd he Accomplish'd with the number of thy howers: But when he
frown'd, it was against the French, And not against his friends: his
noble hand Did win what he did spend: and spent not that Which his
triumphant fathers hand had won: His hands were guilty of no kindreds
blood, But bloody with the enemies of his kinne: Oh Richard, Yorke is
too farre gone with greefe, Or else he neuer would compare betweene

Rich. Why Vncle,

What's the matter?

Yor. Oh my Liege, pardon me if you please, if not I pleas'd not to be
pardon'd, am content with all: Seeke you to seize, and gripe into your
hands The Royalties and Rights of banish'd Herford? Is not Gaunt dead?
and doth not Herford liue? Was not Gaunt iust? and is not Harry true?
Did not the one deserue to haue an heyre? Is not his heyre a
well-deseruing sonne?

Take Herfords rights away, and take from time His Charters, and his
customarie rights:

Let not to morrow then insue to day,

Be not thy selfe. For how art thou a King But by faire sequence and
succession?

Now afore God, God forbid I say true,

If you do wrongfully seize Herfords right, Call in his Letters Patents
that he hath

By his Atturneyes generall, to sue

His Liuerie, and denie his offer'd homage, You plucke a thousand
dangers on your head, You loose a thousand well-disposed hearts, And
pricke my tender patience to those thoughts Which honor and allegeance
cannot thinke

Ric. Thinke what you will: we seise into our hands, His plate, his
goods, his money, and his lands

Yor. Ile not be by the while: My Liege farewell, What will ensue
heereof, there's none can tell. But by bad courses may be vnderstood,

That their euents can neuer fall out good. Enter.

Rich. Go Bushie to the Earle of Wiltshire streight, Bid him repaire
to vs to Ely house,

To see this businesse: to morrow next

We will for Ireland, and 'tis time, I trow: And we create in absence of
our selfe

Our Vncle Yorke, Lord Gouernor of England: For he is iust, and alwayes
lou'd vs well. Come on our Queene, to morrow must we part, Be merry,
for our time of stay is short.

Flourish.

Manet North. Willoughby, & Ross.

Nor. Well Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead

Ross. And liuing too, for now his sonne is Duke

Wil. Barely in title, not in reuennew

Nor. Richly in both, if iustice had her right

Ross. My heart is great: but it must break with silence, Er't be
disburthen'd with a liberall tongue

Nor. Nay speake thy mind: & let him ne'r speak more That speakes thy
words againe to do thee harme

Wil. Tends that thou'dst speake to th' Du[ke]. of Hereford, If it be
so, out with it boldly man,

Quicke is mine eare to heare of good towards him

Ross. No good at all that I can do for him, Vnlesse you call it good
to pitie him,

Bereft and gelded of his patrimonie

Nor. Now afore heauen, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne.

In him a royall Prince, and many moe

Of noble blood in this declining Land;

The King is not himselfe, but basely led

By Flatterers, and what they will informe Meerely in hate 'gainst any
of vs all,

That will the King seuerely prosecute

'Gainst vs, our liues, our children, and our heires

Ros. The Commons hath he pil'd with greeuous taxes And quite lost
their hearts: the Nobles hath he finde For ancient quarrels, and quite
lost their hearts

Wil. And daily new exactions are deuis'd, As blankes, beneuolences,
and I wot not what: But what o' Gods name doth become of this?   Nor.
Wars hath not wasted it, for war'd he hath not. But basely yeelded vpon
comprimize,

That which his Ancestors atchieu'd with blowes: More hath he spent in
peace, then they in warres

Ros. The Earle of Wiltshire hath the realme in Farme

Wil. The Kings growne bankrupt like a broken man

Nor. Reproach, and dissolution hangeth ouer him

Ros. He hath not monie for these Irish warres: (His burthenous
taxations notwithstanding) But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke

Nor. His noble Kinsman, most degenerate King: But Lords, we heare
this fearefull tempest sing, Yet seeke no shelter to auoid the storme:
We see the winde sit sore vpon our sailes, And yet we strike not, but
securely perish

Ros. We see the very wracke that we must suffer, And vnauoyded is
the danger now

For suffering so the causes of our wracke

Nor. Not so: euen through the hollow eyes of death, I spie life
peering: but I dare not say

How neere the tidings of our comfort is

Wil. Nay let vs share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours   Ros. Be
confident to speake Northumberland, We three, are but thy selfe, and
speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold

Nor. Then thus: I haue from Port le Blan A Bay in Britaine, receiu'd
intelligence, That Harry Duke of Herford, Rainald Lord Cobham, That
late broke from the Duke of Exeter,

His brother Archbishop, late of Canterbury, Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir
Iohn Rainston,

Sir Iohn Norberie, & Sir Robert Waterton, & Francis Quoint, All these
well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine, With eight tall ships, three
thousand men of warre Are making hither with all due expedience, And
shortly meane to touch our Northerne shore: Perhaps they had ere this,
but that they stay The first departing of the King for Ireland. If then
we shall shake off our slauish yoake, Impe out our drooping Countries
broken wing, Redeeme from broaking pawne the blemish'd Crowne, Wipe off
the dust that hides our Scepters gilt, And make high Maiestie looke
like it selfe, Away with me in poste to Rauenspurgh,

But if you faint, as fearing to do so,

Stay, and be secret, and my selfe will go

Ros. To horse, to horse, vrge doubts to them y feare

Wil. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Queene, Bushy, and Bagot.

Bush. Madam, your Maiesty is too much sad, You promis'd when you
parted with the King, To lay aside selfe-harming heauinesse,

And entertaine a cheerefull disposition

Qu. To please the King, I did: to please my selfe I cannot do it:
yet I know no cause

Why I should welcome such a guest as greefe, Saue bidding farewell to
so sweet a guest As my sweet Richard; yet againe me thinkes, Some
vnborne sorrow, ripe in fortunes wombe Is comming towards me, and my
inward soule With nothing trembles, at something it greeues, More then
with parting from my Lord the King

Bush. Each substance of a greefe hath twenty shadows Which shewes
like greefe it selfe, but is not so: For sorrowes eye, glazed with
blinding teares, Diuides one thing intire, to many obiects, Like
perspectiues, which rightly gaz'd vpon Shew nothing but confusion, ey'd
awry,

Distinguish forme: so your sweet Maiestie Looking awry vpon your Lords
departure,

Finde shapes of greefe, more then himselfe to waile, Which look'd on as
it is, is naught but shadowes Of what it is not: then thrice-gracious
Queene, More then your Lords departure weep not, more's not seene; Or
if it be, 'tis with false sorrowes eie, Which for things true, weepe
things imaginary

Qu. It may be so: but yet my inward soule Perswades me it is
otherwise: how ere it be, I cannot but be sad: so heauy sad,

As though on thinking on no thought I thinke, Makes me with heauy
nothing faint and shrinke

Bush. 'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.)

Qu. 'Tis nothing lesse: conceit is still deriu'd From some
fore-father greefe, mine is not so, For nothing hath begot my something
greefe, Or something, hath the nothing that I greeue, 'Tis in reuersion
that I do possesse,

But what it is, that is not yet knowne, what I cannot name, 'tis
namelesse woe I wot.

Enter Greene.

Gree. Heauen saue your Maiesty, and wel met Gentlemen: I hope the
King is not yet shipt for Ireland

Qu. Why hop'st thou so? Tis better hope he is: For his designes
craue hast, his hast good hope, Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not
shipt?   Gre. That he our hope, might haue retyr'd his power, and
driuen into dispaire an enemies hope, Who strongly hath set footing in
this Land. The banish'd Bullingbrooke repeales himselfe, And with
vp-lifted Armes is safe arriu'd

At Rauenspurg

Qu. Now God in heauen forbid

Gr. O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worse, The L[ord].
Northumberland, his yong sonne Henrie Percie, The Lords of Rosse,
Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powrefull friends are fled to
him

Bush. Why haue you not proclaim'd Northumberland And the rest of the
reuolted faction, Traitors?   Gre. We haue: whereupon the Earle of
Worcester Hath broke his staffe, resign'd his Stewardship, And al the
houshold seruants fled with him to Bullinbrook   Qu. So Greene, thou
art the midwife of my woe, And Bullinbrooke my sorrowes dismall heyre:
Now hath my soule brought forth her prodegie, And I a gasping new
deliuered mother,

Haue woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow ioyn'd

Bush. Dispaire not Madam

Qu. Who shall hinder me?

I will dispaire, and be at enmitie

With couzening hope; he is a Flatterer,

A Parasite, a keeper backe of death,

Who gently would dissolue the bands of life, Which false hopes linger
in extremity.

Enter Yorke.

Gre. Heere comes the Duke of Yorke

Qu. With signes of warre about his aged necke, Oh full of carefull
businesse are his lookes: Vncle, for heauens sake speake comfortable
words:   Yor. Comfort's in heauen, and we are on the earth, Where
nothing liues but crosses, care and greefe: Your husband he is gone to
saue farre off, Whilst others come to make him loose at home: Heere am
I left to vnder-prop his Land,

Who weake with age, cannot support my selfe: Now comes the sicke houre
that his surfet made, Now shall he try his friends that flattered him.
Enter a seruant.

Ser. My Lord, your sonne was gone before I came

Yor. He was: why so: go all which way it will: The Nobles they are
fled, the Commons they are cold, And will I feare reuolt on Herfords
side. Sirra, get thee to Plashie to my sister Gloster, Bid her send me
presently a thousand pound, Hold, take my Ring

Ser. My Lord, I had forgot

To tell your Lordship, to day I came by, and call'd there, But I shall
greeue you to report the rest

Yor. What is't knaue?

Ser. An houre before I came, the Dutchesse di'de

Yor. Heau'n for his mercy, what a tide of woes Come rushing on this
wofull Land at once? I know not what to do: I would to heauen

(So my vntruth had not prouok'd him to it) The King had cut off my head
with my brothers. What, are there postes dispatcht for Ireland? How
shall we do for money for these warres? Come sister (Cozen I would say)
pray pardon me. Go fellow, get thee home, prouide some Carts, And bring
away the Armour that is there.

Gentlemen, will you muster men?

If I know how, or which way to order these affaires Thus disorderly
thrust into my hands,

Neuer beleeue me. Both are my kinsmen,

Th' one is my Soueraigne, whom both my oath And dutie bids defend: th'
other againe

Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wrong'd, Whom conscience, and my
kindred bids to right: Well, somewhat we must do: Come Cozen,

Ile dispose of you. Gentlemen, go muster vp your men, And meet me
presently at Barkley Castle:

I should to Plashy too: but time will not permit, All is vneuen, and
euery thing is left at six and seuen.

Exit

Bush. The winde sits faire for newes to go to Ireland, But none
returnes: For vs to leuy power

Proportionable to th' enemy, is all impossible

Gr. Besides our neerenesse to the King in loue, Is neere the hate of
those loue not the King

Ba. And that's the wauering Commons, for their loue Lies in their
purses, and who so empties them, By so much fils their hearts with
deadly hate

Bush. Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd   Bag. If
iudgement lye in them, then so do we, Because we haue beene euer neere
the King

Gr. Well: I will for refuge straight to Bristoll Castle, The Earle
of Wiltshire is alreadie there

Bush. Thither will I with you, for little office Will the hatefull
Commons performe for vs, Except like Curres, to teare vs all in peeces:
Will you go along with vs?

Bag. No, I will to Ireland to his Maiestie: Farewell, if hearts
presages be not vaine, We three here part, that neu'r shall meete
againe

Bu. That's as Yorke thriues to beate back Bullinbroke   Gr. Alas
poore Duke, the taske he vndertakes Is numbring sands, and drinking
Oceans drie, Where one on his side fights, thousands will flye

Bush. Farewell at once, for once, for all, and euer. Well, we may
meete againe

Bag. I feare me neuer.

Enter.



Scaena Tertia.

Enter the Duke of Hereford, and Northumberland.

Bul. How farre is it my Lord to Berkley now?   Nor. Beleeue me noble
Lord,

I am a stranger heere in Gloustershire,

These high wilde hilles, and rough vneeuen waies, Drawes out our miles,
and makes them wearisome. And yet our faire discourse hath beene as
sugar, Making the hard way sweet and delectable: But I bethinke me,
what a wearie way

From Rauenspurgh to Cottshold will be found, In Rosse and Willoughby,
wanting your companie, Which I protest hath very much beguild

The tediousnesse, and processe of my trauell: But theirs is sweetned
with the hope to haue The present benefit that I possesse;

And hope to ioy, is little lesse in ioy,

Then hope enioy'd: By this, the wearie Lords Shall make their way seeme
short, as mine hath done, By sight of what I haue, your Noble Companie

Bull. Of much lesse value is my Companie, Then your good words: but
who comes here?

Enter H[arry]. Percie.

North. It is my Sonne, young Harry Percie, Sent from my Brother
Worcester: Whence soeuer. Harry, how fares your Vnckle?

Percie. I had thought, my Lord, to haue learn'd his health of you

North. Why, is he not with the Queene?   Percie. No, my good Lord,
he hath forsook the Court, Broken his Staffe of Office, and disperst
The Household of the King

North. What was his reason?

He was not so resolu'd, when we last spake together

Percie. Because your Lordship was proclaimed Traitor. But hee, my
Lord, is gone to Rauenspurgh, To offer seruice to the Duke of Hereford,
And sent me ouer by Barkely, to discouer

What power the Duke of Yorke had leuied there, Then with direction to
repaire to Rauenspurgh

North. Haue you forgot the Duke of Hereford (Boy.)

Percie. No, my good Lord; for that is not forgot Which ne're I did
remember: to my knowledge, I neuer in my life did looke on him

North. Then learne to know him now: this is the Duke

Percie. My gracious Lord, I tender you my seruice, Such as it is,
being tender, raw, and young, Which elder dayes shall ripen, and
confirme To more approued seruice, and desert

Bull. I thanke thee gentle Percie, and be sure I count my selfe in
nothing else so happy, As in a Soule remembring my good Friends: And as
my Fortune ripens with thy Loue,

It shall be still thy true Loues recompence, My Heart this Couenant
makes, my Hand thus seales it

North. How farre is it to Barkely? and what stirre Keepes good old
Yorke there, with his Men of Warre?   Percie. There stands the Castle,
by yond tuft of Trees, Mann'd with three hundred men, as I haue heard,
And in it are the Lords of Yorke, Barkely, and Seymor, None else of
Name, and noble estimate.

Enter Rosse and Willoughby.

North. Here come the Lords of Rosse and Willoughby, Bloody with
spurring, fierie red with haste

Bull. Welcome my Lords, I wot your loue pursues A banisht Traytor;
all my Treasurie

Is yet but vnfelt thankes, which more enrich'd, Shall be your loue, and
labours recompence

Ross. Your presence makes vs rich, most Noble Lord

Willo. And farre surmounts our labour to attaine it

Bull. Euermore thankes, th' Exchequer of the poore, Which till my
infant-fortune comes to yeeres, Stands for my Bountie: but who comes
here? Enter Barkely.

North. It is my Lord of Barkely, as I ghesse

Bark. My Lord of Hereford, my Message is to you

Bull. My Lord, my Answere is to Lancaster, And I am come to seeke
that Name in England, And I must finde that Title in your Tongue,
Before I make reply to aught you say

Bark. Mistake me not, my Lord, 'tis not my meaning To raze one Title
of your Honor out.

To you, my Lord, I come (what Lord you will) From the most glorious of
this Land,

The Duke of Yorke, to know what pricks you on To take aduantage of the
absent time,

And fright our Natiue Peace with selfe-borne Armes. Enter Yorke.

Bull. I shall not need transport my words by you, Here comes his
Grace in Person. My Noble Vnckle

York. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, Whose dutie is
deceiuable, and false

Bull. My gracious Vnckle

York. Tut, tut, Grace me no Grace, nor Vnckle me, I am no Traytors
Vnckle; and that word Grace, In an vngracious mouth, is but prophane.

Why haue these banish'd, and forbidden Legges, Dar'd once to touch a
Dust of Englands Ground? But more then why, why haue they dar'd to
march So many miles vpon her peacefull Bosome,

Frighting her pale-fac'd Villages with Warre, And ostentation of
despised Armes?

Com'st thou because th' anoynted King is hence? Why foolish Boy, the
King is left behind, And in my loyall Bosome lyes his power.

Were I but now the Lord of such hot youth, As when braue Gaunt, thy
Father, and my selfe Rescued the Black Prince, that yong Mars of men,
From forth the Rankes of many thousand French: Oh then, how quickly
should this Arme of mine, Now Prisoner to the Palsie, chastise thee,
And minister correction to thy Fault

Bull. My gracious Vnckle, let me know my Fault, On what Condition
stands it, and wherein?   York. Euen in Condition of the worst degree,
In grosse Rebellion, and detested Treason: Thou art a banish'd man, and
here art come Before th' expiration of thy time,

In brauing Armes against thy Soueraigne

Bull. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford, But as I come, I
come for Lancaster.

And Noble Vnckle, I beseech your Grace

Looke on my Wrongs with an indifferent eye: You are my Father, for me
thinkes in you

I see old Gaunt aliue. Oh then my Father, Will you permit, that I shall
stand condemn'd A wandring Vagabond; my Rights and Royalties Pluckt
from my armes perforce, and giuen away To vpstart Vnthrifts? Wherefore
was I borne? If that my Cousin King, be King of England, It must be
graunted, I am Duke of Lancaster. You haue a Sonne, Aumerle, my Noble
Kinsman, Had you first died, and he beene thus trod downe, He should
haue found his Vnckle Gaunt a Father, To rowze his Wrongs, and chase
them to the bay. I am denyde to sue my Liuerie here,

And yet my Letters Patents giue me leaue: My Fathers goods are all
distraynd, and sold, And these, and all, are all amisse imployd. What
would you haue me doe? I am a Subiect, And challenge Law: Attorneyes
are deny'd me; And therefore personally I lay my claime

To my Inheritance of free Discent

North. The Noble Duke hath been too much abus'd

Ross. It stands your Grace vpon, to doe him right

Willo. Base men by his endowments are made great

York. My Lords of England, let me tell you this, I haue had feeling
of my Cosens Wrongs,

And labour'd all I could to doe him right: But in this kind, to come in
brauing Armes, Be his owne Caruer, and cut out his way,

To find out Right with Wrongs, it may not be; And you that doe abett
him in this kind,

Cherish Rebellion, and are Rebels all

North. The Noble Duke hath sworne his comming is But for his owne;
and for the right of that, Wee all haue strongly sworne to giue him
ayd, And let him neu'r see Ioy, that breakes that Oath

York. Well, well, I see the issue of these Armes, I cannot mend it,
I must needes confesse, Because my power is weake, and all ill left:
But if I could, by him that gaue me life, I would attach you all, and
make you stoope Vnto the Soueraigne Mercy of the King.

But since I cannot, be it knowne to you,

I doe remaine as Neuter. So fare you well, Vnlesse you please to enter
in the Castle, And there repose you for this Night

Bull. An offer Vnckle, that wee will accept: But wee must winne your
Grace to goe with vs To Bristow Castle, which they say is held By
Bushie, Bagot, and their Complices,

The Caterpillers of the Commonwealth,

Which I haue sworne to weed, and plucke away

York. It may be I will go with you: but yet Ile pawse, For I am loth
to breake our Countries Lawes: Nor Friends, nor Foes, to me welcome you
are, Things past redresse, are now with me past care.

Exeunt.



Scoena Quarta.

Enter Salisbury, and a Captaine.

Capt. My Lord of Salisbury, we haue stayd ten dayes, And hardly kept
our Countreymen together, And yet we heare no tidings from the King;
Therefore we will disperse our selues: farewell

Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trustie Welchman, The King reposeth
all his confidence in thee

Capt. 'Tis thought the King is dead, we will not stay; The Bay-trees
in our Countrey all are wither'd, And Meteors fright the fixed Starres
of Heauen; The pale-fac'd Moone lookes bloody on the Earth, And
leane-look'd Prophets whisper fearefull change; Rich men looke sad, and
Ruffians dance and leape, The one in feare, to loose what they enioy,
The other to enioy by Rage, and Warre:

These signes fore-run the death of Kings. Farewell, our Countreymen are
gone and fled, As well assur'd Richard their King is dead. Enter.

Sal. Ah Richard, with eyes of heauie mind, I see thy Glory, like a
shooting Starre,

Fall to the base Earth, from the Firmament: Thy Sunne sets weeping in
the lowly West, Witnessing Stormes to come, Woe, and Vnrest: Thy
Friends are fled, to wait vpon thy Foes, And crossely to thy good, all
fortune goes. Enter.



Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, Northumberland, Rosse, Percie, Willoughby,

with Bushie and Greene Prisoners.

Bull. Bring forth these men:

Bushie and Greene, I will not vex your soules, (Since presently your
soules must part your bodies) With too much vrging your pernitious
liues, For 'twere no Charitie: yet to wash your blood From off my
hands, here in the view of men, I will vnfold some causes of your
deaths. You haue mis-led a Prince, a Royall King, A happie Gentleman in
Blood, and Lineaments, By you vnhappied, and disfigur'd cleane:

You haue in manner with your sinfull houres Made a Diuorce betwixt his
Queene and him, Broke the possession of a Royall Bed,

And stayn'd the beautie of a faire Queenes Cheekes, With teares drawn
fro[m] her eyes, with your foule wrongs. My selfe a Prince, by fortune
of my birth, Neere to the King in blood, and neere in loue, Till you
did make him mis-interprete me,

Haue stoopt my neck vnder your iniuries,

And sigh'd my English breath in forraine Clouds, Eating the bitter
bread of banishment;

While you haue fed vpon my Seignories,

Dis-park'd my Parkes, and fell'd my Forrest Woods; From mine owne
Windowes torne my Household Coat, Raz'd out my Impresse, leauing me no
signe, Saue mens opinions, and my liuing blood,

To shew the World I am a Gentleman.

This, and much more, much more then twice all this, Condemnes you to
the death: see them deliuered ouer To execution, and the hand of death

Bushie. More welcome is the stroake of death to me, Then
Bullingbrooke to England

Greene. My comfort is, that Heauen will take our soules, And plague
Iniustice with the paines of Hell

Bull. My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd: Vnckle, you say
the Queene is at your House, For Heauens sake fairely let her be
entreated, Tell her I send to her my kind commends;

Take speciall care my Greetings be deliuer'd

York. A Gentleman of mine I haue dispatch'd With Letters of your
loue, to her at large

Bull. Thankes gentle Vnckle: come Lords away, To fight with
Glendoure, and his Complices; A while to worke, and after holliday.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Drums: Flourish, and Colours. Enter Richard, Aumerle, Carlile, and

Souldiers.

Rich. Barkloughly Castle call you this at hand?   Au. Yea, my Lord:
how brooks your Grace the ayre, After your late tossing on the breaking
Seas?   Rich. Needs must I like it well: I weepe for ioy To stand vpon
my Kingdome once againe.

Deere Earth, I doe salute thee with my hand, Though Rebels wound thee
with their Horses hoofes: As a long parted Mother with her Child,

Playes fondly with her teares, and smiles in meeting; So weeping,
smiling, greet I thee my Earth, And doe thee fauor with my Royall
hands.

Feed not thy Soueraignes Foe, my gentle Earth, Nor with thy Sweetes,
comfort his rauenous sence: But let thy Spiders, that suck vp thy
Venome, And heauie-gated Toades lye in their way, Doing annoyance to
the trecherous feete,

Which with vsurping steps doe trample thee. Yeeld stinging Nettles to
mine Enemies;

And when they from thy Bosome pluck a Flower, Guard it I prethee with a
lurking Adder,

Whose double tongue may with a mortall touch Throw death vpon thy
Soueraignes Enemies. Mock not my sencelesse Coniuration, Lords; This
Earth shall haue a feeling, and these Stones Proue armed Souldiers, ere
her Natiue King Shall falter vnder foule Rebellious Armes

Car. Feare not my Lord, that Power that made you King Hath power to
keepe you King, in spight of all

Aum. He meanes, my Lord, that we are too remisse, Whilest
Bullingbrooke through our securitie, Growes strong and great, in
substance and in friends

Rich. Discomfortable Cousin, knowest thou not, That when the
searching Eye of Heauen is hid Behind the Globe, that lights the lower
World, Then Theeues and Robbers raunge abroad vnseene, In Murthers and
in Out-rage bloody here:

But when from vnder this Terrestriall Ball He fires the prowd tops of
the Easterne Pines, And darts his Lightning through eu'ry guiltie hole,
Then Murthers, Treasons, and detested sinnes (The Cloake of Night being
pluckt from off their backs) Stand bare and naked, trembling at
themselues. So when this Theefe, this Traytor Bullingbrooke, Who all
this while hath reuell'd in the Night, Shall see vs rising in our
Throne, the East, His Treasons will sit blushing in his face, Not able
to endure the sight of Day;

But selfe-affrighted, tremble at his sinne. Not all the Water in the
rough rude Sea

Can wash the Balme from an anoynted King; The breath of worldly men
cannot depose

The Deputie elected by the Lord:

For euery man that Bullingbrooke hath prest, To lift shrewd Steele
against our Golden Crowne, Heauen for his Richard hath in heauenly pay
A glorious Angell: then if Angels fight,

Weake men must fall, for Heauen still guards the right. Enter
Salisbury.

Welcome my Lord, how farre off lyes your Power?   Salisb. Nor neere,
nor farther off, my gracious Lord, Then this weake arme; discomfort
guides my tongue, And bids me speake of nothing but despaire: One day
too late, I feare (my Noble Lord) Hath clouded all thy happie dayes on
Earth: Oh call backe Yesterday, bid Time returne, And thou shalt haue
twelue thousand fighting men: To day, to day, vnhappie day too late

Orethrowes thy Ioyes, Friends, Fortune, and thy State; For all the
Welchmen hearing thou wert dead, Are gone to Bullingbrooke, disperst,
and fled

Aum. Comfort my Liege, why lookes your Grace so pale?

Rich. But now the blood of twentie thousand men Did triumph in my
face, and they are fled, And till so much blood thither come againe,
Haue I not reason to looke pale, and dead? All Soules that will be
safe, flye from my side, For Time hath set a blot vpon my pride

Aum. Comfort my Liege, remember who you are

Rich. I had forgot my selfe. Am I not King? Awake thou sluggard
Maiestie, thou sleepest: Is not the Kings Name fortie thousand Names?
Arme, arme my Name: a punie subiect strikes At thy great glory. Looke
not to the ground, Ye Fauorites of a King: are wee not high? High be
our thoughts: I know my Vnckle Yorke Hath Power enough to serue our
turne.

But who comes here?

Enter Scroope.

Scroope. More health and happinesse betide my Liege, Then can my
care-tun'd tongue deliuer him

Rich. Mine eare is open, and my heart prepar'd: The worst is worldly
losse, thou canst vnfold: Say, Is my Kingdome lost? why 'twas my Care:
And what losse is it to be rid of Care?

Striues Bullingbrooke to be as Great as wee? Greater he shall not be:
If hee serue God, Wee'l serue him too, and be his Fellow so. Reuolt our
Subiects? That we cannot mend, They breake their Faith to God, as well
as vs: Cry Woe, Destruction, Ruine, Losse, Decay, The worst is Death,
and Death will haue his day

Scroope. Glad am I, that your Highnesse is so arm'd To beare the
tidings of Calamitie.

Like an vnseasonable stormie day,

Which make the Siluer Riuers drowne their Shores, As if the World were
all dissolu'd to teares: So high, aboue his Limits, swells the Rage Of
Bullingbrooke, couering your fearefull Land With hard bright Steele,
and hearts harder then Steele: White Beares haue arm'd their thin and
hairelesse Scalps Against thy Maiestie, and Boyes with Womens Voyces,
Striue to speake bigge, and clap their female ioints In stiffe
vnwieldie Armes: against thy Crowne Thy very Beads-men learne to bend
their Bowes Of double fatall Eugh: against thy State

Yea Distaffe-Women manage rustie Bills:

Against thy Seat both young and old rebell, And all goes worse then I
haue power to tell

Rich. Too well, too well thou tell'st a Tale so ill. Where is the
Earle of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? What is become of Bushie? where is
Greene? That they haue let the dangerous Enemie

Measure our Confines with such peacefull steps? If we preuaile, their
heads shall pay for it. I warrant they haue made peace with
Bullingbrooke

Scroope. Peace haue they made with him indeede (my Lord.)

Rich. Oh Villains, Vipers, damn'd without redemption, Dogges, easily
woon to fawne on any man,

Snakes in my heart blood warm'd, that sting my heart, Three Iudasses,
each one thrice worse then Iudas, Would they make peace? terrible Hell
make warre Vpon their spotted Soules for this Offence

Scroope. Sweet Loue (I see) changing his propertie, Turnes to the
sowrest, and most deadly hate: Againe vncurse their Soules; their peace
is made With Heads, and not with Hands: those whom you curse Haue felt
the worst of Deaths destroying hand, And lye full low, grau'd in the
hollow ground

Aum. Is Bushie, Greene, and the Earle of Wiltshire dead?

Scroope. Yea, all of them at Bristow lost their heads

Aum. Where is the Duke my Father with his Power?   Rich. No matter
where; of comfort no man speake: Let's talke of Graues, of Wormes, and
Epitaphs, Make Dust our Paper, and with Raynie eyes Write Sorrow on the
Bosome of the Earth.

Let's chuse Executors, and talke of Wills: And yet not so; for what can
we bequeath, Saue our deposed bodies to the ground?

Our Lands, our Liues, and all are Bullingbrookes, And nothing can we
call our owne, but Death, And that small Modell of the barren Earth,
Which serues as Paste, and Couer to our Bones: For Heauens sake let vs
sit vpon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of Kings: How
some haue been depos'd, some slaine in warre, Some haunted by the
Ghosts they haue depos'd, Some poyson'd by their Wiues, some sleeping
kill'd, All murther'd. For within the hollow Crowne That rounds the
mortall Temples of a King, Keepes Death his Court, and there the
Antique sits Scoffing his State, and grinning at his Pompe, Allowing
him a breath, a little Scene,

To Monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with lookes, Infusing him with selfe
and vaine conceit, As if this Flesh, which walls about our Life, Were
Brasse impregnable: and humor'd thus, Comes at the last, and with a
little Pinne Bores through his Castle Walls, and farwell King. Couer
your heads, and mock not flesh and blood With solemne Reuerence: throw
away Respect, Tradition, Forme, and Ceremonious dutie,

For you haue but mistooke me all this while: I liue with Bread like
you, feele Want,

Taste Griefe, need Friends: subiected thus, How can you say to me, I am
a King?

Carl. My Lord, wise men ne're waile their present woes, But presently
preuent the wayes to waile: To feare the Foe, since feare oppresseth
strength, Giues in your weakenesse, strength vnto your Foe; Feare, and
be slaine, no worse can come to sight, And fight and die, is death
destroying death, Where fearing, dying, payes death seruile breath

Aum. My Father hath a Power, enquire of him; And learne to make a
Body of a Limbe

Rich. Thou chid'st me well: proud Bullingbrooke I come To change
Blowes with thee, for our day of Doome: This ague fit of feare is
ouer-blowne,

An easie taske it is to winne our owne.

Say Scroope, where lyes our Vnckle with his Power? Speake sweetly man,
although thy lookes be sowre

Scroope. Men iudge by the complexion of the Skie The state and
inclination of the day;

So may you by my dull and heauie Eye:

My Tongue hath but a heauier Tale to say: I play the Torturer, by small
and small

To lengthen out the worst, that must be spoken. Your Vnckle Yorke is
ioyn'd with Bullingbrooke, And all your Northerne Castles yeelded vp,
And all your Southerne Gentlemen in Armes Vpon his Faction

Rich. Thou hast said enough.

Beshrew thee Cousin, which didst lead me forth Of that sweet way I was
in, to despaire:

What say you now? What comfort haue we now? By Heauen Ile hate him
euerlastingly,

That bids me be of comfort any more.

Goe to Flint Castle, there Ile pine away, A King, Woes slaue, shall
Kingly Woe obey: That Power I haue, discharge, and let 'em goe To eare
the Land, that hath some hope to grow, For I haue none. Let no man
speake againe To alter this, for counsaile is but vaine

Aum. My Liege, one word

Rich. He does me double wrong,

That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. Discharge my
followers: let them hence away, From Richards Night, to Bullingbrookes
faire Day.

Exeunt.



Scaena Tertia.

Enter with Drum and Colours, Bullingbrooke, Yorke, Northumberland,

Attendants.

Bull. So that by this intelligence we learne The Welchmen are
dispers'd, and Salisbury Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed
With some few priuate friends, vpon this Coast

North. The newes is very faire and good, my Lord, Richard, not farre
from hence, hath hid his head

York. It would beseeme the Lord Northumberland, To say King Richard:
alack the heauie day, When such a sacred King should hide his head

North. Your Grace mistakes: onely to be briefe, Left I his Title
out

York. The time hath beene,

Would you haue beene so briefe with him, he would Haue beene so briefe
with you, to shorten you, For taking so the Head, your whole heads
length

Bull. Mistake not (Vnckle) farther then you should

York. Take not (good Cousin) farther then you should. Least you
mistake the Heauens are ore your head

Bull. I know it (Vnckle) and oppose not my selfe Against their will.
But who comes here?

Enter Percie.

Welcome Harry: what, will not this Castle yeeld?   Per. The Castle
royally is mann'd, my Lord, Against thy entrance

Bull. Royally? Why, it containes no King?   Per. Yes (my good Lord)

It doth containe a King: King Richard lyes Within the limits of yond
Lime and Stone, And with him, the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury, Sir
Stephen Scroope, besides a Clergie man Of holy reuerence; who, I cannot
learne

North. Oh, belike it is the Bishop of Carlile

Bull. Noble Lord,

Goe to the rude Ribs of that ancient Castle, Through Brazen Trumpet
send the breath of Parle Into his ruin'd Eares, and thus deliuer:

Henry Bullingbrooke vpon his knees doth kisse King Richards hand, and
sends allegeance

And true faith of heart to his Royall Person: hither come Euen at his
feet, to lay my Armes and Power, Prouided, that my Banishment
repeal'd,

And Lands restor'd againe, be freely graunted: If not, Ile vse th
'aduantage of my Power, And lay the Summers dust with showers of blood,
Rayn'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen; The which, how farre
off from the mind of Bullingbrooke It is, such Crimson Tempest should
bedrench The fresh greene Lap of faire King Richards Land, My stooping
dutie tenderly shall shew.

Goe signifie as much, while here we march Vpon the Grassie Carpet of
this Plaine:

Let's march without the noyse of threatning Drum, That from this
Castles tatter'd Battlements Our faire Appointments may be well
perus'd. Me thinkes King Richard and my selfe should meet With no lesse
terror then the Elements

Of Fire and Water, when their thundring smoake At meeting teares the
cloudie Cheekes of Heauen: Be he the fire, Ile be the yeelding Water;
The Rage be his, while on the Earth I raine My Waters on the Earth, and
not on him.

March on, and marke King Richard how he lookes.

Parle without, and answere within: then a Flourish. Enter on the
Walls,

Richard, Carlile, Aumerle, Scroop, Salisbury.

See, see, King Richard doth himselfe appeare As doth the blushing
discontented Sunne,

From out the fierie Portall of the East,

When he perceiues the enuious Clouds are bent To dimme his glory, and
to staine the tract Of his bright passage to the Occident

York. Yet lookes he like a King: behold his Eye (As bright as is the
Eagles) lightens forth Controlling Maiestie: alack, alack, for woe,
That any harme should staine so faire a shew

Rich. Wee are amaz'd, and thus long haue we stood To watch the
fearefull bending of thy knee, Because we thought our selfe thy lawfull
King: And if we be, how dare thy ioynts forget

To pay their awfull dutie to our presence? If we be not, shew vs the
Hand of God,

That hath dismiss'd vs from our Stewardship, For well wee know, no Hand
of Blood and Bone Can gripe the sacred Handle of our Scepter, Vnlesse
he doe prophane, steale, or vsurpe. And though you thinke, that all, as
you haue done, Haue torne their Soules, by turning them from vs, And we
are barren, and bereft of Friends: Yet know, my Master, God
Omnipotent,

Is mustring in his Clouds, on our behalfe, Armies of Pestilence, and
they shall strike Your Children yet vnborne, and vnbegot,

That lift your Vassall Hands against my Head, And threat the Glory of
my precious Crowne. Tell Bullingbrooke, for yond me thinkes he is, That
euery stride he makes vpon my Land,

Is dangerous Treason: He is come to ope

The purple Testament of bleeding Warre;

But ere the Crowne he lookes for, liue in peace, Ten thousand bloody
crownes of Mothers Sonnes Shall ill become the flower of Englands face,
Change the complexion of her Maid-pale Peace To Scarlet Indignation,
and bedew

Her Pastors Grasse with faithfull English Blood

North. The King of Heauen forbid our Lord the King Should so with
ciuill and vnciuill Armes

Be rush'd vpon: Thy thrice-noble Cousin,

Harry Bullingbrooke, doth humbly kisse thy hand, And by the Honorable
Tombe he sweares,

That stands vpon your Royall Grandsires Bones, And by the Royalties of
both your Bloods, (Currents that spring from one most gracious Head)
And by the buried Hand of Warlike Gaunt,

And by the Worth and Honor of himselfe,

Comprising all that may be sworne, or said, His comming hither hath no
further scope, Then for his Lineall Royalties, and to begge
Infranchisement immediate on his knees:

Which on thy Royall partie graunted once, His glittering Armes he will
commend to Rust, His barbed Steedes to Stables, and his heart To
faithfull seruice of your Maiestie:

This sweares he, as he is a Prince, is iust, And as I am a Gentleman, I
credit him

Rich. Northumberland, say thus: The King returnes, His Noble Cousin
is right welcome hither, And all the number of his faire demands

Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction: With all the gracious
vtterance thou hast, Speake to his gentle hearing kind commends. We doe
debase our selfe (Cousin) doe we not, To looke so poorely, and to
speake so faire? Shall we call back Northumberland, and send Defiance
to the Traytor, and so die?

Aum. No, good my Lord, let's fight with gentle words, Till time lend
friends, and friends their helpeful Swords

Rich. Oh God, oh God, that ere this tongue of mine, That layd the
Sentence of dread Banishment On yond prowd man, should take it off
againe With words of sooth: Oh that I were as great As is my Griefe, or
lesser then my Name,

Or that I could forget what I haue beene, Or not remember what I must
be now:

Swell'st thou prowd heart? Ile giue thee scope to beat, Since Foes haue
scope to beat both thee and me

Aum. Northumberland comes backe from Bullingbrooke

Rich. What must the King doe now? must he submit? The King shall doe
it: Must he be depos'd? The King shall be contented: Must he loose The
Name of King? o' Gods Name let it goe. Ile giue my Iewels for a sett of
Beades,

My gorgeous Pallace, for a Hermitage,

My gay Apparrell, for an Almes-mans Gowne, My figur'd Goblets, for a
Dish of Wood,

My Scepter, for a Palmers walking Staffe, My Subiects, for a payre of
carued Saints, And my large Kingdome, for a little Graue, A little
little Graue, an obscure Graue.

Or Ile be buryed in the Kings high-way,

Some way of common Trade, where Subiects feet May howrely trample on
their Soueraignes Head: For on my heart they tread now, whilest I liue;
And buryed once, why not vpon my Head?

Aumerle, thou weep'st (my tender-hearted Cousin) Wee'le make foule
Weather with despised Teares: Our sighes, and they, shall lodge the
Summer Corne, And make a Dearth in this reuolting Land. Or shall we
play the Wantons with our Woes, And make some prettie Match, with
shedding Teares? As thus: to drop them still vpon one place, Till they
haue fretted vs a payre of Graues, Within the Earth: and therein lay'd,
there lyes Two Kinsmen, digg'd their Graues with weeping Eyes? Would
not this ill, doe well? Well, well, I see I talke but idly, and you
mock at mee.

Most mightie Prince, my Lord Northumberland, What sayes King
Bullingbrooke? Will his Maiestie Giue Richard leaue to liue, till
Richard die? You make a Legge, and Bullingbrooke sayes I

North. My Lord, in the base Court he doth attend To speake with you,
may it please you to come downe

Rich. Downe, downe I come, like glist'ring Phaeton, Wanting the
manage of vnruly Iades.

In the base Court? base Court, where Kings grow base, To come at
Traytors Calls, and doe them Grace. In the base Court come down: down
Court, down King, For night-Owls shrike, where mou[n]ting Larks should
sing

Bull. What sayes his Maiestie?

North. Sorrow, and griefe of heart

Makes him speake fondly, like a frantick man: Yet he is come

Bull. Stand all apart,

And shew faire dutie to his Maiestie.

My gracious Lord

Rich. Faire Cousin,

You debase your Princely Knee,

To make the base Earth prowd with kissing it. Me rather had, my Heart
might feele your Loue, Then my vnpleas'd Eye see your Courtesie. Vp
Cousin, vp, your Heart is vp, I know,

Thus high at least, although your Knee be low

Bull. My gracious Lord, I come but for mine owne

Rich. Your owne is yours, and I am yours, and all

Bull. So farre be mine, my most redoubted Lord, As my true seruice
shall deserue your loue

Rich. Well you deseru'd:

They well deserue to haue,

That know the strong'st, and surest way to get. Vnckle giue me your
Hand: nay, drie your Eyes, Teares shew their Loue, but want their
Remedies. Cousin, I am too young to be your Father, Though you are old
enough to be my Heire. What you will haue, Ile giue, and willing to,
For doe we must, what force will haue vs doe. Set on towards London:

Cousin, is it so?

Bull. Yea, my good Lord

Rich. Then I must not say, no.

Flourish.



Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter the Queene, and two Ladies

Qu. What sport shall we deuise here in this Garden, To driue away
the heauie thought of Care?   La. Madame, wee'le play at Bowles

Qu. 'Twill make me thinke the World is full of Rubs, And that my
fortune runnes against the Byas

La. Madame, wee'le Dance

Qu. My Legges can keepe no measure in Delight, When my poore Heart
no measure keepes in Griefe. Therefore no Dancing (Girle) some other
sport

La. Madame, wee'le tell Tales

Qu. Of Sorrow, or of Griefe?

La. Of eyther, Madame

Qu. Of neyther, Girle.

For if of Ioy, being altogether wanting,

It doth remember me the more of Sorrow:

Or if of Griefe, being altogether had,

It addes more Sorrow to my want of Ioy:

For what I haue, I need not to repeat;

And what I want, it bootes not to complaine

La. Madame, Ile sing

Qu. 'Tis well that thou hast cause:

But thou should'st please me better, would'st thou weepe

La. I could weepe, Madame, would it doe you good

Qu. And I could sing, would weeping doe me good, And neuer borrow
any Teare of thee.

Enter a Gardiner, and two Seruants.

But stay, here comes the Gardiners,

Let's step into the shadow of these Trees. My wretchednesse, vnto a
Rowe of Pinnes,

They'le talke of State: for euery one doth so, Against a Change; Woe is
fore-runne with Woe

Gard. Goe binde thou vp yond dangling Apricocks, Which like vnruly
Children, make their Syre Stoupe with oppression of their prodigall
weight: Giue some supportance to the bending twigges. Goe thou, and
like an Executioner

Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprayes, That looke too loftie in
our Common-wealth: All must be euen, in our Gouernment.

You thus imploy'd, I will goe root away

The noysome Weedes, that without profit sucke The Soyles fertilitie
from wholesome flowers

Ser. Why should we, in the compasse of a Pale, Keepe Law and Forme,
and due Proportion,

Shewing as in a Modell our firme Estate?

When our Sea-walled Garden, the whole Land, Is full of Weedes, her
fairest Flowers choakt vp, Her Fruit-trees all vnpruin'd, her Hedges
ruin'd, Her Knots disorder'd, and her wholesome Hearbes Swarming with
Caterpillers

Gard. Hold thy peace.

He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd Spring, Hath now himselfe met
with the Fall of Leafe. The Weeds that his broad-spreading Leaues did
shelter, That seem'd, in eating him, to hold him vp, Are pull'd vp,
Root and all, by Bullingbrooke: I meane, the Earle of Wiltshire,
Bushie, Greene

Ser. What are they dead?

Gard. They are,

And Bullingbrooke hath seiz'd the wastefull King. Oh, what pitty is it,
that he had not so trim'd And drest his Land, as we this Garden, at
time of yeare, And wound the Barke, the skin of our Fruit-trees, Least
being ouer-proud with Sap and Blood, With too much riches it confound
it selfe? Had he done so, to great and growing men, They might haue
liu'd to beare, and he to taste Their fruites of dutie. Superfluous
branches We lop away, that bearing boughes may liue: Had he done so,
himselfe had borne the Crowne, Which waste and idle houres, hath quite
thrown downe

Ser. What thinke you the King shall be depos'd?   Gar. Deprest he is
already, and depos'd 'Tis doubted he will be. Letters came last night
To a deere Friend of the Duke of Yorkes,

That tell blacke tydings

Qu. Oh I am prest to death through want of speaking: Thou old Adams
likenesse, set to dresse this Garden: How dares thy harsh rude tongue
sound this vnpleasing newes What Eue? what Serpent hath suggested thee,
To make a second fall of cursed man?

Why do'st thou say, King Richard is depos'd, Dar'st thou, thou little
better thing then earth, Diuine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how
Cam'st thou by this ill-tydings? Speake thou wretch

Gard. Pardon me Madam. Little ioy haue I To breath these newes; yet
what I say, is true; King Richard, he is in the mighty hold

Of Bullingbrooke, their Fortunes both are weigh'd: In your Lords Scale,
is nothing but himselfe, And some few Vanities, that make him light:
But in the Ballance of great Bullingbrooke, Besides himselfe, are all
the English Peeres, And with that oddes he weighes King Richard downe.
Poste you to London, and you'l finde it so, I speake no more, then
euery one doth know

Qu. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foote, Doth not thy
Embassage belong to me?

And am I last that knowes it? Oh thou think'st To serue me last, that I
may longest keepe Thy sorrow in my breast. Come Ladies goe, To meet at
London, Londons King in woe.

What was I borne to this: that my sad looke, Should grace the Triumph
of great Bullingbrooke. Gard'ner, for telling me this newes of woe, I
would the Plants thou graft'st, may neuer grow. Enter.

G. Poore Queen, so that thy State might be no worse, I would my skill
were subiect to thy curse: Heere did she drop a teare, heere in this
place Ile set a Banke of Rew, sowre Herbe of Grace: Rue, eu'n for ruth,
heere shortly shall be seene, In the remembrance of a Weeping Queene.

Enter.



Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.

Enter as to the Parliament, Bullingbrooke, Aumerle, Northumberland,

Percie, FitzWater, Surrey, Carlile, Abbot of Westminster. Herauld,
Officers, and Bagot.

Bullingbrooke. Call forth Bagot.

Now Bagot, freely speake thy minde,

What thou do'st know of Noble Glousters death: Who wrought it with the
King, and who perform'd The bloody Office of his Timelesse end

Bag. Then set before my face, the Lord Aumerle

Bul. Cosin, stand forth, and looke vpon that man

Bag. My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue Scornes to vnsay,
what it hath once deliuer'd. In that dead time, when Glousters death
was plotted, I heard you say, Is not my arme of length, That reacheth
from the restfull English Court As farre as Callis, to my Vnkles head.

Amongst much other talke, that very time, I heard you say, that you had
rather refuse The offer of an hundred thousand Crownes, Then
Bullingbrookes returne to England; adding withall, How blest this Land
would be, in this your Cosins death

Aum. Princes, and Noble Lords:

What answer shall I make to this base man? Shall I so much dishonor my
faire Starres, On equall termes to giue him chasticement? Either I
must, or haue mine honor soyl'd

With th' Attaindor of his sland'rous Lippes. There is my Gage, the
manuall Seale of death That markes thee out for Hell. Thou lyest, And
will maintaine what thou hast said, is false, In thy heart blood,
though being all too base To staine the temper of my Knightly sword

Bul. Bagot forbeare, thou shalt not take it vp

Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best In all this presence,
that hath mou'd me so

Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathize: There is my Gage,
Aumerle, in Gage to thine: By that faire Sunne, that shewes me where
thou stand'st, I heard thee say (and vauntingly thou spak'st it) That
thou wer't cause of Noble Glousters death. If thou deniest it, twenty
times thou lyest, And I will turne thy falshood to thy hart, Where it
was forged with my Rapiers point

Aum. Thou dar'st not (Coward) liue to see the day

Fitz. Now by my Soule, I would it were this houre

Aum. Fitzwater thou art damn'd to hell for this

Per. Aumerle, thou lye'st: his Honor is as true In this Appeale, as
thou art all vniust:

And that thou art so, there I throw my Gage To proue it on thee, to th'
extreamest point Of mortall breathing. Seize it, if thou dar'st

Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off, And neuer brandish more
reuengefull Steele, Ouer the glittering Helmet of my Foe

Surrey. My Lord Fitzwater:

I do remember well, the very time

Aumerle, and you did talke

Fitz. My Lord,

'Tis very true: You were in presence then, And you can witnesse with
me, this is true

Surrey. As false, by heauen,

As Heauen it selfe is true

Fitz. Surrey, thou Lyest

Surrey. Dishonourable Boy;

That Lye, shall lie so heauy on my Sword, That it shall render
Vengeance, and Reuenge, Till thou the Lye-giuer, and that Lye, doe lye
In earth as quiet, as thy Fathers Scull.

In proofe whereof, there is mine Honors pawne, Engage it to the Triall,
if thou dar'st

Fitzw. How fondly do'st thou spurre a forward Horse? If I dare eate,
or drinke, or breathe, or liue, I dare meete Surrey in a Wildernesse,

And spit vpon him, whilest I say he Lyes, And Lyes, and Lyes: there is
my Bond of Faith, To tye thee to my strong Correction.

As I intend to thriue in this new World,

Aumerle is guiltie of my true Appeale.

Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolke say, That thou Aumerle didst
send two of thy men, To execute the Noble Duke at Callis

Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a Gage, That Norfolke lyes:
here doe I throw downe this, If he may be repeal'd, to trie his Honor

Bull. These differences shall all rest vnder Gage, Till Norfolke be
repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be; And (though mine Enemie) restor'd
againe

To all his Lands and Seignories: when hee's return'd, Against Aumerle
we will enforce his Tryall

Carl. That honorable day shall ne're be seene. Many a time hath
banish'd Norfolke fought For Iesu Christ, in glorious Christian field
Streaming the Ensigne of the Christian Crosse, Against black Pagans,
Turkes, and Saracens: And toyl'd with workes of Warre, retyr'd himselfe
To Italy, and there at Venice gaue

His Body to that pleasant Countries Earth, And his pure Soule vnto his
Captaine Christ, Vnder whose Colours he had fought so long

Bull. Why Bishop, is Norfolke dead?

Carl. As sure as I liue, my Lord

Bull. Sweet peace conduct his sweet Soule To the Bosome of good old
Abraham.

Lords Appealants, your differe[n]ces shal all rest vnder gage, Till we
assigne you to your dayes of Tryall. Enter Yorke.

Yorke. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee From plume-pluckt
Richard, who with willing Soule Adopts thee Heire, and his high Scepter
yeelds To the possession of thy Royall Hand.

Ascend his Throne, descending now from him, And long liue Henry, of
that Name the Fourth

Bull. In Gods Name, Ile ascend the Regall Throne

Carl. Mary, Heauen forbid.

Worst in this Royall Presence may I speake, Yet best beseeming me to
speake the truth. Would God, that any in this Noble Presence Were
enough Noble, to be vpright Iudge

Of Noble Richard: then true Noblenesse would Learne him forbearance
from so foule a Wrong. What Subiect can giue Sentence on his King? And
who sits here, that is not Richards Subiect? Theeues are not iudg'd,
but they are by to heare, Although apparant guilt be seene in them: And
shall the figure of Gods Maiestie,

His Captaine, Steward, Deputie elect,

Anoynted, Crown'd, planted many yeeres,

Be iudg'd by subiect, and inferior breathe, And he himselfe not
present? Oh, forbid it, God, That in a Christian Climate, Soules
refin'de Should shew so heynous, black, obscene a deed. I speake to
Subiects, and a Subiect speakes, Stirr'd vp by Heauen, thus boldly for
his King My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call King, Is a foule
Traytor to prowd Herefords King. And if you Crowne him, let me
prophecie,

The blood of English shall manure the ground, And future Ages groane
for his foule Act. Peace shall goe sleepe with Turkes and Infidels, And
in this Seat of Peace, tumultuous Warres Shall Kinne with Kinne, and
Kinde with Kinde confound. Disorder, Horror, Feare, and Mutinie

Shall here inhabite, and this Land be call'd The field of Golgotha, and
dead mens Sculls. Oh, if you reare this House, against this House It
will the wofullest Diuision proue,

That euer fell vpon this cursed Earth.

Preuent it, resist it, and let it not be so, Least Child, Childs
Children cry against you, Woe

North. Well haue you argu'd Sir: and for your paines, Of Capitall
Treason we arrest you here.

My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge, To keepe him safely, till
his day of Tryall. May it please you, Lords, to grant the Commons Suit?
Bull. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view He may surrender: so
we shall proceede

Without suspition

Yorke. I will be his Conduct.

Enter.

Bull. Lords, you that here are vnder our Arrest, Procure your
Sureties for your Dayes of Answer: Little are we beholding to your
Loue,

And little look'd for at your helping Hands. Enter Richard and Yorke.

Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a King, Before I haue shooke off
the Regall thoughts Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet haue learn'd To
insinuate, flatter, bowe, and bend my Knee. Giue Sorrow leaue a while,
to tuture me

To this submission. Yet I well remember

The fauors of these men: were they not mine? Did they not sometime cry,
All hayle to me? So Iudas did to Christ: but he in twelue, Found truth
in all, but one; I, in twelue thousand, none. God saue the King: will
no man say, Amen? Am I both Priest, and Clarke? well then, Amen. God
saue the King, although I be not hee: And yet Amen, if Heauen doe
thinke him mee. To doe what seruice, am I sent for hither?   Yorke. To
doe that office of thine owne good will, Which tyred Maiestie did make
thee offer: The Resignation of thy State and Crowne

To Henry Bullingbrooke

Rich. Giue me the Crown. Here Cousin, seize y Crown: Here Cousin, on
this side my Hand, on that side thine. Now is this Golden Crowne like a
deepe Well, That owes two Buckets, filling one another, The emptier
euer dancing in the ayre,

The other downe, vnseene, and full of Water: That Bucket downe, and
full of Teares am I, Drinking my Griefes, whil'st you mount vp on high

Bull. I thought you had been willing to resigne

Rich. My Crowne I am, but still my Griefes are mine: You may my
Glories and my State depose,

But not my Griefes; still am I King of those

Bull. Part of your Cares you giue me with your Crowne

Rich. Your Cares set vp, do not pluck my Cares downe. My Care, is
losse of Care, by old Care done, Your Care, is gaine of Care, by new
Care wonne: The Cares I giue, I haue, though giuen away, They 'tend the
Crowne, yet still with me they stay:   Bull. Are you contented to
resigne the Crowne?   Rich. I, no; no, I: for I must nothing bee:
Therefore no, no, for I resigne to thee.

Now, marke me how I will vndoe my selfe.

I giue this heauie Weight from off my Head, And this vnwieldie Scepter
from my Hand,

The pride of Kingly sway from out my Heart. With mine owne Teares I
wash away my Balme, With mine owne Hands I giue away my Crowne, With
mine owne Tongue denie my Sacred State, With mine owne Breath release
all dutious Oathes; All Pompe and Maiestie I doe forsweare:

My Manors, Rents, Reuenues, I forgoe;

My Acts, Decrees, and Statutes I denie:

God pardon all Oathes that are broke to mee, God keepe all Vowes
vnbroke are made to thee. Make me that nothing haue, with nothing
grieu'd, And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all atchieu'd. Long
may'st thou liue in Richards Seat to sit, And soone lye Richard in an
Earthie Pit.

God saue King Henry, vn-King'd Richard sayes, And send him many yeeres
of Sunne-shine dayes. What more remaines?

North. No more: but that you reade

These Accusations, and these grieuous Crymes, Committed by your Person,
and your followers, Against the State, and Profit of this Land: That by
confessing them, the Soules of men May deeme, that you are worthily
depos'd

Rich. Must I doe so? and must I rauell out My weau'd-vp follyes?
Gentle Northumberland, If thy Offences were vpon Record,

Would it not shame thee, in so faire a troupe, To reade a Lecture of
them? If thou would'st, There should'st thou finde one heynous Article,
Contayning the deposing of a King,

And cracking the strong Warrant of an Oath, Mark'd with a Blot, damn'd
in the Booke of Heauen. Nay, all of you, that stand and looke vpon me,
Whil'st that my wretchednesse doth bait my selfe, Though some of you,
with Pilate, wash your hands, Shewing an outward pittie: yet you
Pilates Haue here deliuer'd me to my sowre Crosse, And Water cannot
wash away your sinne

North. My Lord dispatch, reade o're these Articles

Rich. Mine Eyes are full of Teares, I cannot see: And yet salt-Water
blindes them not so much, But they can see a sort of Traytors here.
Nay, if I turne mine Eyes vpon my selfe,

I finde my selfe a Traytor with the rest: For I haue giuen here my
Soules consent,

T' vndeck the pompous Body of a King;

Made Glory base; a Soueraigntie, a Slaue; Prowd Maiestie, a Subiect;
State, a Pesant

North. My Lord

Rich. No Lord of thine, thou haught-insulting man; No, nor no mans
Lord: I haue no Name, no Title; No, not that Name was giuen me at the
Font, But 'tis vsurpt: alack the heauie day,

That I haue worne so many Winters out,

And know not now, what Name to call my selfe. Oh, that I were a
Mockerie, King of Snow, Standing before the Sunne of Bullingbrooke, To
melt my selfe away in Water-drops.

Good King, great King, and yet not greatly good, And if my word be
Sterling yet in England, Let it command a Mirror hither straight,

That it may shew me what a Face I haue,

Since it is Bankrupt of his Maiestie

Bull. Goe some of you, and fetch a Looking-Glasse

North. Read o're this Paper, while y Glasse doth come

Rich. Fiend, thou torments me, ere I come to Hell

Bull. Vrge it no more, my Lord Northumberland

North. The Commons will not then be satisfy'd

Rich. They shall be satisfy'd: Ile reade enough, When I doe see the
very Booke indeede,

Where all my sinnes are writ, and that's my selfe. Enter one with a
Glasse.

Giue me that Glasse, and therein will I reade. No deeper wrinckles yet?
hath Sorrow strucke So many Blowes vpon this Face of mine,

And made no deeper Wounds? Oh flatt'ring Glasse, Like to my followers
in prosperitie,

Thou do'st beguile me. Was this Face, the Face That euery day, vnder
his House-hold Roofe, Did keepe ten thousand men? Was this the Face,
That like the Sunne, did make beholders winke? Is this the Face, which
fac'd so many follyes, That was at last out-fac'd by Bullingbrooke? A
brittle Glory shineth in this Face,

As brittle as the Glory, is the Face,

For there it is, crackt in an hundred shiuers. Marke silent King, the
Morall of this sport, How soone my Sorrow hath destroy'd my Face

Bull. The shadow of your Sorrow hath destroy'd The shadow of your
Face

Rich. Say that againe.

The shadow of my Sorrow: ha, let's see,

'Tis very true, my Griefe lyes all within, And these externall manner
of Laments,

Are meerely shadowes, to the vnseene Griefe, That swells with silence
in the tortur'd Soule. There lyes the substance: and I thanke thee King
For thy great bountie, that not onely giu'st Me cause to wayle, but
teachest me the way How to lament the cause. Ile begge one Boone, And
then be gone, and trouble you no more. Shall I obtaine it?

Bull. Name it, faire Cousin

Rich. Faire Cousin? I am greater then a King: For when I was a King,
my flatterers

Were then but subiects; being now a subiect, I haue a King here to my
flatterer:

Being so great, I haue no neede to begge

Bull. Yet aske

Rich. And shall I haue?

Bull. You shall

Rich. Then giue me leaue to goe

Bull. Whither?

Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sights

Bull. Goe some of you, conuey him to the Tower

Rich. Oh good: conuey: Conueyers are you all, That rise thus nimbly
by a true Kings fall

Bull. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set downe Our Coronation:
Lords, prepare your selues.

Exeunt.

Abbot. A wofull Pageant haue we here beheld

Carl. The Woes to come, the Children yet vnborne, Shall feele this
day as sharpe to them as Thorne

Aum. You holy Clergie-men, is there no Plot To rid the Realme of
this pernicious Blot

Abbot. Before I freely speake my minde herein, You shall not onely
take the Sacrament,

To bury mine intents, but also to effect

What euer I shall happen to deuise.

I see your Browes are full of Discontent, Your Heart of Sorrow, and
your Eyes of Teares. Come home with me to Supper, Ile lay a Plot Shall
shew vs all a merry day.

Exeunt.



Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Queene, and Ladies.

Qu. This way the King will come: this is the way To Iulius Csars
ill-erected Tower:

To whose flint Bosome, my condemned Lord

Is doom'd a Prisoner, by prowd Bullingbrooke. Here let vs rest, if this
rebellious Earth Haue any resting for her true Kings Queene. Enter
Richard, and Guard.

But soft, but see, or rather doe not see, My faire Rose wither: yet
looke vp; behold, That you in pittie may dissolue to dew,

And wash him fresh againe with true-loue Teares. Ah thou, the Modell
where old Troy did stand, Thou Mappe of Honor, thou King Richards
Tombe, And not King Richard: thou most beauteous Inne, Why should
hard-fauor'd Griefe be lodg'd in thee, When Triumph is become an
Ale-house Guest

Rich. Ioyne not with griefe, faire Woman, do not so, To make my end
too sudden: learne good Soule, To thinke our former State a happie
Dreame, From which awak'd, the truth of what we are, Shewes vs but
this. I am sworne Brother (Sweet) To grim Necessitie; and hee and I

Will keepe a League till Death. High thee to France, And Cloyster thee
in some Religious House: Our holy liues must winne a new Worlds Crowne,
Which our prophane houres here haue stricken downe

Qu. What, is my Richard both in shape and minde Transform'd, and
weaken'd? Hath Bullingbrooke Depos'd thine Intellect? hath he beene in
thy Heart? The Lyon dying, thrusteth forth his Paw,

And wounds the Earth, if nothing else, with rage To be o're-powr'd: and
wilt thou, Pupill-like, Take thy Correction mildly, kisse the Rodde,
And fawne on Rage with base Humilitie,

Which art a Lyon, and a King of Beasts?

Rich. A King of Beasts indeed: if aught but Beasts, I had beene still
a happy King of Men.

Good (sometime Queene) prepare thee hence for France: Thinke I am dead,
and that euen here thou tak'st, As from my Death-bed, my last liuing
leaue. In Winters tedious Nights sit by the fire With good old folkes,
and let them tell thee Tales Of wofull Ages, long agoe betide:

And ere thou bid good-night, to quit their griefe, Tell thou the
lamentable fall of me,

And send the hearers weeping to their Beds: For why? the sencelesse
Brands will sympathize The heauie accent of thy mouing Tongue,

And in compassion, weepe the fire out:

And some will mourne in ashes, some coale-black, For the deposing of a
rightfull King.

Enter Northumberland.

North. My Lord, the mind of Bullingbrooke is chang'd. You must to
Pomfret, not vnto the Tower.

And Madame, there is order ta'ne for you: With all swift speed, you
must away to France

Rich. Northumberland, thou Ladder wherewithall The mounting
Bullingbrooke ascends my Throne, The time shall not be many houres of
age, More then it is, ere foule sinne, gathering head, Shall breake
into corruption: thou shalt thinke, Though he diuide the Realme, and
giue thee halfe, It is too little, helping him to all:

He shall thinke, that thou which know'st the way To plant vnrightfull
Kings, wilt know againe, Being ne're so little vrg'd another way,

To pluck him headlong from the vsurped Throne. The Loue of wicked
friends conuerts to Feare; That Feare, to Hate; and Hate turnes one, or
both, To worthie Danger, and deserued Death

North. My guilt be on my Head, and there an end: Take leaue, and
part, for you must part forthwith

Rich. Doubly diuorc'd? (bad men) ye violate A two-fold Marriage;
'twixt my Crowne, and me. And then betwixt me, and my marryed Wife. Let
me vn-kisse the Oath 'twixt thee, and me; And yet not so, for with a
Kisse 'twas made. Part vs, Northumberland: I, towards the North, Where
shiuering Cold and Sicknesse pines the Clyme: My Queene to France: from
whence, set forth in pompe, She came adorned hither like sweet May;

Sent back like Hollowmas, or short'st of day

Qu. And must we be diuided? must we part?   Rich. I, hand from hand
(my Loue) and heart fro[m] heart

Qu. Banish vs both, and send the King with me

North. That were some Loue, but little Pollicy

Qu. Then whither he goes, thither let me goe

Rich. So two together weeping, make one Woe. Weepe thou for me in
France; I, for thee heere: Better farre off, then neere, be ne're the
neere. Goe, count thy Way with Sighes; I, mine with Groanes

Qu. So longest Way shall haue the longest Moanes

Rich. Twice for one step Ile groane, y Way being short, And peece
the Way out with a heauie heart. Come, come, in wooing Sorrow let's be
briefe, Since wedding it, there is such length in Griefe: One Kisse
shall stop our mouthes, and dumbely part; Thus giue I mine, and thus
take I thy heart

Qu. Giue me mine owne againe: 'twere no good part, To take on me to
keepe, and kill thy heart. So, now I haue mine owne againe, be gone,
That I may striue to kill it with a groane

Rich. We make Woe wanton with this fond delay: Once more adieu; the
rest, let Sorrow say.

Exeunt.



Scoena Secunda.

Enter Yorke, and his Duchesse.

Duch. My Lord, you told me you would tell the rest, When weeping made
you breake the story off, Of our two Cousins comming into London

Yorke. Where did I leaue?

Duch. At that sad stoppe, my Lord,

Where rude mis-gouern'd hands, from Windowes tops, Threw dust and
rubbish on King Richards head

Yorke. Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bullingbrooke, Mounted vpon
a hot and fierie Steed,

Which his aspiring Rider seem'd to know,

With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course: While all tongues
cride, God saue thee Bullingbrooke. You would haue thought the very
windowes spake, So many greedy lookes of yong and old,

Through Casements darted their desiring eyes Vpon his visage: and that
all the walles, With painted Imagery had said at once,

Iesu preserue thee, welcom Bullingbrooke. Whil'st he, from one side to
the other turning, Bare-headed, lower then his proud Steeds necke,
Bespake them thus: I thanke you Countrimen: And thus still doing, thus
he past along

Dutch. Alas poore Richard, where rides he the whilst?   Yorke. As in
a Theater, the eyes of men After a well grac'd Actor leaues the Stage,
Are idlely bent on him that enters next,

Thinking his prattle to be tedious:

Euen so, or with much more contempt, mens eyes Did scowle on Richard:
no man cride, God saue him: No ioyfull tongue gaue him his welcome
home, But dust was throwne vpon his Sacred head, Which with such gentle
sorrow he shooke off, His face still combating with teares and smiles
(The badges of his greefe and patience)

That had not God (for some strong purpose) steel'd The hearts of men,
they must perforce haue melted, And Barbarisme it selfe haue pittied
him. But heauen hath a hand in these euents,

To whose high will we bound our calme contents. To Bullingbrooke, are
we sworne Subiects now, Whose State, and Honor, I for aye allow.

Enter Aumerle

Dut. Heere comes my sonne Aumerle

Yor. Aumerle that was,

But that is lost, for being Richards Friend. And Madam, you must call
him Rutland now: I am in Parliament pledge for his truth,

And lasting fealtie to the new-made King

Dut. Welcome my sonne: who are the Violets now, That strew the
greene lap of the new-come Spring?   Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I
greatly care not, God knowes, I had as liefe be none, as one

Yorke. Well, beare you well in this new-spring of time Least you be
cropt before you come to prime. What newes from Oxford? Hold those
Iusts & Triumphs?   Aum. For ought I know my Lord, they do

Yorke. You will be there I know

Aum. If God preuent not, I purpose so

Yor. What Seale is that that hangs without thy bosom? Yea, look'st
thou pale? Let me see the Writing

Aum. My Lord, 'tis nothing

Yorke. No matter then who sees it,

I will be satisfied, let me see the Writing

Aum. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, It is a matter of small
consequence,

Which for some reasons I would not haue seene

Yorke. Which for some reasons sir, I meane to see: I feare, I feare

Dut. What should you feare?

'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into For gay apparrell,
against the Triumph

Yorke. Bound to himselfe? What doth he with a Bond That he is bound
to? Wife, thou art a foole. Boy, let me see the Writing

Aum. I do beseech you pardon me, I may not shew it

Yor. I will be satisfied: let me see it I say.

Snatches it

Treason, foule Treason, Villaine, Traitor, Slaue

Dut. What's the matter, my Lord?

Yorke. Hoa, who's within there? Saddle my horse. Heauen for his
mercy: what treachery is heere?   Dut. Why, what is't my Lord?

Yorke. Giue me my boots, I say: Saddle my horse: Now by my Honor, my
life, my troth,

I will appeach the Villaine

Dut. What is the matter?

Yorke. Peace foolish Woman

Dut. I will not peace. What is the matter Sonne?   Aum. Good Mother
be content, it is no more Then my poore life must answer

Dut. Thy life answer?

Enter Seruant with Boots.

Yor. Bring me my Boots, I will vnto the King

Dut. Strike him Aumerle. Poore boy, y art amaz'd, Hence Villaine,
neuer more come in my sight

Yor. Giue me my Boots, I say

Dut. Why Yorke, what wilt thou do?

Wilt thou not hide the Trespasse of thine owne? Haue we more Sonnes? Or
are we like to haue? Is not my teeming date drunke vp with time? And
wilt thou plucke my faire Sonne from mine Age, And rob me of a happy
Mothers name?

Is he not like thee? Is he not thine owne?   Yor. Thou fond mad woman:

Wilt thou conceale this darke Conspiracy? A dozen of them heere haue
tane the Sacrament, And interchangeably set downe their hands To kill
the King at Oxford

Dut. He shall be none:

Wee'l keepe him heere: then what is that to him?   Yor. Away fond
woman: were hee twenty times my Son, I would appeach him

Dut. Hadst thou groan'd for him as I haue done, Thou wouldest be
more pittifull:

But now I know thy minde; thou do'st suspect That I haue bene disloyall
to thy bed,

And that he is a Bastard, not thy Sonne:

Sweet Yorke, sweet husband, be not of that minde: He is as like thee,
as a man may bee,

Not like to me, nor any of my Kin,

And yet I loue him

Yorke. Make way, vnruly Woman.

Exit

Dut. After Aumerle. Mount thee vpon his horse, Spurre post, and get
before him to the King, And begge thy pardon, ere he do accuse thee,
Ile not be long behind: though I be old,

I doubt not but to ride as fast as Yorke: And neuer will I rise vp from
the ground, Till Bullingbrooke haue pardon'd thee: Away be gone.

Exit



Scoena Tertia.

Enter Bullingbrooke, Percie, and other Lords.

Bul. Can no man tell of my vnthriftie Sonne? 'Tis full three monthes
since I did see him last. If any plague hang ouer vs, 'tis he,

I would to heauen (my Lords) he might be found: Enquire at London,
'mongst the Tauernes there: For there (they say) he dayly doth
frequent, With vnrestrained loose Companions,

Euen such (they say) as stand in narrow Lanes, And rob our Watch, and
beate our passengers, Which he, yong wanton, and effeminate Boy Takes
on the point of Honor, to support

So dissolute a crew

Per. My Lord, some two dayes since I saw the Prince, And told him of
these Triumphes held at Oxford

Bul. And what said the Gallant?

Per. His answer was: he would vnto the Stewes, And from the common'st
creature plucke a Gloue And weare it as a fauour, and with that

He would vnhorse the lustiest Challenger

Bul. As dissolute as desp'rate, yet through both, I see some sparkes
of better hope: which elder dayes May happily bring forth. But who
comes heere? Enter Aumerle.

Aum. Where is the King?

Bul. What meanes our Cosin, that hee stares And lookes so wildely?

Aum. God saue your Grace. I do beseech your Maiesty To haue some
conference with your Grace alone

Bul. Withdraw your selues, and leaue vs here alone: What is the
matter with our Cosin now?

Aum. For euer may my knees grow to the earth, My tongue cleaue to my
roofe within my mouth, Vnlesse a Pardon, ere I rise, or speake

Bul. Intended, or committed was this fault? If on the first, how
heynous ere it bee,

To win thy after loue, I pardon thee

Aum. Then giue me leaue, that I may turne the key, That no man
enter, till my tale be done

Bul. Haue thy desire.

Yorke within.

Yor. My Liege beware, looke to thy selfe, Thou hast a Traitor in thy
presence there

Bul. Villaine, Ile make thee safe

Aum. Stay thy reuengefull hand, thou hast no cause to feare

Yorke. Open the doore, secure foole-hardy King: Shall I for loue
speake treason to thy face? Open the doore, or I will breake it open.
Enter Yorke.

Bul. What is the matter (Vnkle) speak, recouer breath, Tell vs how
neere is danger,

That we may arme vs to encounter it

Yor. Peruse this writing heere, and thou shalt know The reason that
my haste forbids me show

Aum. Remember as thou read'st, thy promise past: I do repent me,
reade not my name there,

My heart is not confederate with my hand

Yor. It was (villaine) ere thy hand did set it downe. I tore it from
the Traitors bosome, King. Feare, and not Loue, begets his penitence;
Forget to pitty him, least thy pitty proue A Serpent, that will sting
thee to the heart

Bul. Oh heinous, strong, and bold Conspiracie, O loyall Father of a
treacherous Sonne:

Thou sheere, immaculate, and siluer fountaine, From whence this
streame, through muddy passages Hath had his current, and defil'd
himselfe. Thy ouerflow of good, conuerts to bad,

And thy abundant goodnesse shall excuse

This deadly blot, in thy digressing sonne

Yorke. So shall my Vertue be his Vices bawd, And he shall spend mine
Honour, with his Shame; As thriftlesse Sonnes, their scraping Fathers
Gold. Mine honor liues, when his dishonor dies, Or my sham'd life, in
his dishonor lies:

Thou kill'st me in his life, giuing him breath, The Traitor liues, the
true man's put to death.

Dutchesse within.

Dut. What hoa (my Liege) for heauens sake let me in

Bul. What shrill-voic'd Suppliant, makes this eager cry?   Dut. A
woman, and thine Aunt (great King) 'tis I. Speake with me, pitty me,
open the dore,

A Begger begs, that neuer begg'd before

Bul. Our Scene is alter'd from a serious thing, And now chang'd to
the Begger, and the King. My dangerous Cosin, let your Mother in,

I know she's come, to pray for your foule sin

Yorke. If thou do pardon, whosoeuer pray, More sinnes for this
forgiuenesse, prosper may. This fester'd ioynt cut off, the rest rests
sound, This let alone, will all the rest confound. Enter Dutchesse.

Dut. O King, beleeue not this hard-hearted man, Loue, louing not it
selfe, none other can

Yor. Thou franticke woman, what dost y make here, Shall thy old
dugges, once more a Traitor reare?   Dut. Sweet Yorke be patient, heare
me gentle Liege

Bul. Rise vp good Aunt

Dut. Not yet, I thee beseech.

For euer will I kneele vpon my knees,

And neuer see day, that the happy sees,

Till thou giue ioy: vntill thou bid me ioy, By pardoning Rutland, my
transgressing Boy

Aum. Vnto my mothers prayres, I bend my knee

Yorke. Against them both, my true ioynts bended be

Dut. Pleades he in earnest? Looke vpon his Face, His eyes do drop no
teares: his prayres are in iest: His words come from his mouth, ours
from our brest. He prayes but faintly, and would be denide, We pray
with heart, and soule, and all beside: His weary ioynts would gladly
rise, I know, Our knees shall kneele, till to the ground they grow: His
prayers are full of false hypocrisie, Ours of true zeale, and deepe
integritie: Our prayers do out-pray his, then let them haue That mercy,
which true prayers ought to haue

Bul. Good Aunt stand vp

Dut. Nay, do not say stand vp.

But Pardon first, and afterwards stand vp. And if I were thy Nurse, thy
tongue to teach, Pardon should be the first word of thy speach. I neuer
long'd to heare a word till now:

Say Pardon (King,) let pitty teach thee how. The word is short: but not
so short as sweet, No word like Pardon, for Kings mouth's so meet

Yorke. Speake it in French (King) say Pardon'ne moy

Dut. Dost thou teach pardon, Pardon to destroy? Ah my sowre husband,
my hard-hearted Lord, That set's the word it selfe, against the word.
Speake Pardon, as 'tis currant in our Land, The chopping French we do
not vnderstand. Thine eye begins to speake, set thy tongue there, Or in
thy pitteous heart, plant thou thine eare, That hearing how our plaints
and prayres do pearce, Pitty may moue thee, Pardon to rehearse

Bul. Good Aunt, stand vp

Dut. I do not sue to stand,

Pardon is all the suite I haue in hand

Bul. I pardon him, as heauen shall pardon mee

Dut. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee? Yet am I sicke for feare:
Speake it againe, Twice saying Pardon, doth not pardon twaine, But
makes one pardon strong

Bul. I pardon him with all my hart

Dut. A God on earth thou art

Bul. But for our trusty brother-in-Law, the Abbot, With all the rest
of that consorted crew, Destruction straight shall dogge them at the
heeles: Good Vnckle helpe to order seuerall powres To Oxford, or where
ere these Traitors are: They shall not liue within this world I sweare,
But I will haue them, if I once know where. Vnckle farewell, and Cosin
adieu:

Your mother well hath praid, and proue you true

Dut. Come my old son, I pray heauen make thee new.

Exeunt.

Enter Exton and Seruants.

Ext. Didst thou not marke the King what words hee spake?

Haue I no friend will rid me of this liuing feare: Was it not so?

Ser. Those were his very words.

Ex.

Haue I no Friend? (quoth he:) he spake it twice, And vrg'd it twice
together, did he not?

Ser. He did.

Ex.

And speaking it, he wistly look'd on me,

As who should say, I would thou wer't the man That would diuorce this
terror from my heart, Meaning the King at Pomfret: Come, let's goe; I
am the Kings Friend, and will rid his Foe. Enter.



Scaena Quarta.

Enter Richard.

Rich. I haue bin studying, how to compare This Prison where I liue,
vnto the World: And for because the world is populous,

And heere is not a Creature, but my selfe, I cannot do it: yet Ile
hammer't out.

My Braine, Ile proue the Female to my Soule, My Soule, the Father: and
these two beget A generation of still breeding Thoughts;

And these same Thoughts, people this Little World In humors, like the
people of this world, For no thought is contented. The better sort, As
thoughts of things Diuine, are intermixt With scruples, and do set the
Faith it selfe Against the Faith: as thus: Come litle ones: & then
again, It is as hard to come, as for a Camell

To thred the posterne of a Needles eye.

Thoughts tending to Ambition, they do plot Vnlikely wonders; how these
vaine weake nailes May teare a passage through the Flinty ribbes Of
this hard world, my ragged prison walles: And for they cannot, dye in
their owne pride. Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themselues, That
they are not the first of Fortunes slaues, Nor shall not be the last.
Like silly Beggars, Who sitting in the Stockes, refuge their shame That
many haue, and others must sit there; And in this Thought, they finde a
kind of ease, Bearing their owne misfortune on the backe Of such as
haue before indur'd the like.

Thus play I in one Prison, many people,

And none contented. Sometimes am I King;

Then Treason makes me wish my selfe a Beggar, And so I am. Then
crushing penurie,

Perswades me, I was better when a King:

Then am I king'd againe: and by and by,

Thinke that I am vn-king'd by Bullingbrooke, And straight am nothing.
But what ere I am,

Musick

Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,

With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd With being nothing.
Musicke do I heare?

Ha, ha? keepe time: How sowre sweet Musicke is, When Time is broke, and
no Proportion kept? So is it in the Musicke of mens liues:

And heere haue I the daintinesse of eare, To heare time broke in a
disorder'd string: But for the Concord of my State and Time, Had not an
eare to heare my true Time broke. I wasted Time, and now doth Time
waste me: For now hath Time made me his numbring clocke; My Thoughts,
are minutes; and with Sighes they iarre, Their watches on vnto mine
eyes, the outward Watch, Whereto my finger, like a Dialls point,

Is pointing still, in cleansing them from teares. Now sir, the sound
that tels what houre it is, Are clamorous groanes, that strike vpon my
heart, Which is the bell: so Sighes, and Teares, and Grones, Shew
Minutes, Houres, and Times: but my Time Runs poasting on, in
Bullingbrookes proud ioy, While I stand fooling heere, his iacke o'th'
Clocke. This Musicke mads me, let it sound no more, For though it haue
holpe madmen to their wits, In me it seemes, it will make wise-men mad:
Yet blessing on his heart that giues it me; For 'tis a signe of loue,
and loue to Richard, Is a strange Brooch, in this all-hating world.
Enter Groome.

Groo. Haile Royall Prince

Rich. Thankes Noble Peere,

The cheapest of vs, is ten groates too deere. What art thou? And how
com'st thou hither? Where no man euer comes, but that sad dogge That
brings me food, to make misfortune liue?   Groo. I was a poore Groome
of thy Stable (King) When thou wer't King: who trauelling towards
Yorke, With much adoo, at length haue gotten leaue To looke vpon my
(sometimes Royall) masters face. O how it yern'd my heart, when I
beheld

In London streets, that Coronation day,

When Bullingbrooke rode on Roane Barbary, That horse, that thou so
often hast bestrid, That horse, that I so carefully haue drest

Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me gentle Friend, How went he vnder
him?

Groo. So proudly, as if he had disdain'd the ground

Rich. So proud, that Bullingbrooke was on his backe; That Iade hath
eate bread from my Royall hand. This hand hath made him proud with
clapping him. Would he not stumble? Would he not fall downe (Since
Pride must haue a fall) and breake the necke Of that proud man, that
did vsurpe his backe? Forgiuenesse horse: Why do I raile on thee, Since
thou created to be aw'd by man

Was't borne to beare? I was not made a horse, And yet I beare a burthen
like an Asse,

Spur-gall'd, and tyrd by iauncing Bullingbrooke. Enter Keeper with a
Dish.

Keep. Fellow, giue place, heere is no longer stay

Rich. If thou loue me, 'tis time thou wer't away

Groo. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say.

Enter.

Keep. My Lord, wilt please you to fall too?   Rich. Taste of it
first, as thou wer't wont to doo

Keep. My Lord I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton, Who lately came from
th' King, commands the contrary

Rich. The diuell take Henrie of Lancaster, and thee; Patience is
stale, and I am weary of it

Keep. Helpe, helpe, helpe.

Enter Exton and Seruants.

Ri. How now? what meanes Death in this rude assalt? Villaine, thine
owne hand yeelds thy deaths instrument, Go thou and fill another roome
in hell.

Exton strikes him downe.

That hand shall burne in neuer-quenching fire, That staggers thus my
person. Exton, thy fierce hand, Hath with the Kings blood, stain'd the
Kings own land. Mount, mount my soule, thy seate is vp on high, Whil'st
my grosse flesh sinkes downward, heere to dye

Exton. As full of Valor, as of Royall blood, Both haue I spilt: Oh
would the deed were good. For now the diuell, that told me I did well,
Sayes, that this deede is chronicled in hell. This dead King to the
liuing King Ile beare, Take hence the rest, and giue them buriall
heere. Enter.



Scoena Quinta.

Flourish. Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, with other Lords & attendants.

Bul. Kinde Vnkle Yorke, the latest newes we heare, Is that the Rebels
haue consum'd with fire Our Towne of Cicester in Gloucestershire, But
whether they be tane or slaine, we heare not. Enter Northumberland.

Welcome my Lord: What is the newes?

Nor. First to thy Sacred State, wish I all happinesse: The next newes
is, I haue to London sent

The heads of Salsbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent: The manner of their
taking may appeare

At large discoursed in this paper heere

Bul. We thank thee gentle Percy for thy paines, And to thy worth
will adde right worthy gaines. Enter Fitzwaters.

Fitz. My Lord, I haue from Oxford sent to London, The heads of
Broccas, and Sir Bennet Seely, Two of the dangerous consorted
Traitors,

That sought at Oxford, thy dire ouerthrow

Bul. Thy paines Fitzwaters shall not be forgot, Right Noble is thy
merit, well I wot.

Enter Percy and Carlile.

Per. The grand Conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, With clog of
Conscience, and sowre Melancholly, Hath yeelded vp his body to the
graue:

But heere is Carlile, liuing to abide

Thy Kingly doome, and sentence of his pride

Bul. Carlile, this is your doome:

Choose out some secret place, some reuerend roome More then thou hast,
and with it ioy thy life: So as thou liu'st in peace, dye free from
strife: For though mine enemy, thou hast euer beene, High sparkes of
Honor in thee haue I seene. Enter Exton with a Coffin.

Exton. Great King, within this Coffin I present Thy buried feare.
Heerein all breathlesse lies The mightiest of thy greatest enemies

Richard of Burdeaux, by me hither brought

Bul. Exton, I thanke thee not, for thou hast wrought A deede of
Slaughter, with thy fatall hand, Vpon my head, and all this famous
Land.

Ex.

From your owne mouth my Lord, did I this deed

Bul. They loue not poyson, that do poyson neede, Nor do I thee:
though I did wish him dead, I hate the Murtherer, loue him murthered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, But neither my good
word, nor Princely fauour. With Caine go wander through the shade of
night, And neuer shew thy head by day, nor light. Lords, I protest my
soule is full of woe, That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow.
Come mourne with me, for that I do lament, And put on sullen Blacke
incontinent:

Ile make a voyage to the Holy-land,

To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. March sadly after, grace my
mourning heere, In weeping after this vntimely Beere.

Exeunt.

FINIS. The life and death of King Richard the Second.



The First Part of Henry the Fourth

with the Life and Death of Henry Sirnamed Hot-Spvrre



Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter the King, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of Westmerland, with

others.

King. So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Finde we a time for
frighted Peace to pant, And breath shortwinded accents of new broils To
be commenc'd in Stronds a-farre remote: No more the thirsty entrance of
this Soile, Shall daube her lippes with her owne childrens blood: No
more shall trenching Warre channell her fields, Nor bruise her Flowrets
with the Armed hoofes Of hostile paces. Those opposed eyes,

Which like the Meteors of a troubled Heauen, All of one Nature, of one
Substance bred, Did lately meete in the intestine shocke, And furious
cloze of ciuill Butchery,

Shall now in mutuall well-beseeming rankes March all one way, and be no
more oppos'd Against Acquaintance, Kindred, and Allies. The edge of
Warre, like an ill-sheathed knife, No more shall cut his Master.
Therefore Friends, As farre as to the Sepulcher of Christ,

Whose Souldier now vnder whose blessed Crosse We are impressed and
ingag'd to fight,

Forthwith a power of English shall we leuie, Whose armes were moulded
in their Mothers wombe, To chace these Pagans in those holy Fields,
Ouer whose Acres walk'd those blessed feete Which fourteene hundred
yeares ago were nail'd For our aduantage on the bitter Crosse.

But this our purpose is a tweluemonth old, And bootlesse 'tis to tell
you we will go: Therefore we meete not now. Then let me heare Of you my
gentle Cousin Westmerland,

What yesternight our Councell did decree, In forwarding this deere
expedience

West. My Liege: This haste was hot in question, And many limits of
the Charge set downe

But yesternight: when all athwart there came A Post from Wales, loaden
with heauy Newes; Whose worst was, That the Noble Mortimer, Leading the
men of Herefordshire to fight Against the irregular and wilde
Glendower, Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, And a thousand
of his people butchered:

Vpon whose dead corpes there was such misuse, Such beastly, shamelesse
transformation,

By those Welshwomen done, as may not be

(Without much shame) re-told or spoken of

King. It seemes then, that the tidings of this broile, Brake off our
businesse for the Holy land

West. This matcht with other like, my gracious Lord, Farre more
vneuen and vnwelcome Newes

Came from the North, and thus it did report: On Holy-roode day, the
gallant Hotspurre there, Young Harry Percy, and braue Archibald,

That euer-valiant and approoued Scot,

At Holmeden met, where they did spend

A sad and bloody houre:

As by discharge of their Artillerie,

And shape of likely-hood the newes was told: For he that brought them,
in the very heate And pride of their contention, did take horse,
Vncertaine of the issue any way

King. Heere is a deere and true industrious friend, Sir Walter
Blunt, new lighted from his Horse, Strain'd with the variation of each
soyle, Betwixt that Holmedon, and this Seat of ours: And he hath
brought vs smooth and welcome newes. The Earle of Dowglas is
discomfited,

Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty Knights Balk'd in their owne
blood did Sir Walter see On Holmedons Plaines. Of Prisoners, Hotspurre
tooke Mordake Earle of Fife, and eldest sonne

To beaten Dowglas, and the Earle of Atholl, Of Murry, Angus, and
Menteith.

And is not this an honourable spoyle?

A gallant prize? Ha Cosin, is it not? Infaith it is

West. A Conquest for a Prince to boast of

King. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, & mak'st me sin, In enuy, that
my Lord Northumberland

Should be the Father of so blest a Sonne: A Sonne, who is the Theame of
Honors tongue; Among'st a Groue, the very straightest Plant, Who is
sweet Fortunes Minion, and her Pride: Whil'st I by looking on the
praise of him, See Ryot and Dishonor staine the brow

Of my yong Harry. O that it could be prou'd, That some
Night-tripping-Faiery, had exchang'd In Cradle-clothes, our Children
where they lay, And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet:

Then would I haue his Harry, and he mine: But let him from my thoughts.
What thinke you Coze Of this young Percies pride? The Prisoners Which
he in this aduenture hath surpriz'd, To his owne vse he keepes, and
sends me word I shall haue none but Mordake Earle of Fife

West. This is his Vnckles teaching. This is Worcester Maleuolent to
you in all Aspects:

Which makes him prune himselfe, and bristle vp The crest of Youth
against your Dignity

King. But I haue sent for him to answer this: And for this cause
a-while we must neglect Our holy purpose to Ierusalem.

Cosin, on Wednesday next, our Councell we will hold At Windsor, and so
informe the Lords:

But come your selfe with speed to vs againe, For more is to be saide,
and to be done,

Then out of anger can be vttered

West. I will my Liege.

Exeunt.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Henry Prince of Wales, Sir Iohn Falstaffe, and Pointz.

Fal. Now Hal, what time of day is it Lad?   Prince. Thou art so
fat-witted with drinking of olde Sacke, and vnbuttoning thee after
Supper, and sleeping vpon Benches in the afternoone, that thou hast
forgotten to demand that truely, which thou wouldest truly know. What a
diuell hast thou to do with the time of the day? vnlesse houres were
cups of Sacke, and minutes Capons, and clockes the tongues of Bawdes,
and dialls the signes of Leaping-houses, and the blessed Sunne himselfe
a faire hot Wench in Flame-coloured Taffata; I see no reason, why thou
shouldest bee so superfluous, to demaund the time of the day

Fal. Indeed you come neere me now Hal, for we that take Purses, go
by the Moone and seuen Starres, and not by Phoebus hee, that wand'ring
Knight so faire. And I prythee sweet Wagge, when thou art King, as God
saue thy Grace, Maiesty I should say, for Grace thou wilte haue none

Prin. What, none?

Fal. No, not so much as will serue to be Prologue to an Egge and
Butter

Prin. Well, how then? Come roundly, roundly

Fal. Marry then, sweet Wagge, when thou art King, let not vs that
are Squires of the Nights bodie, bee call'd Theeues of the Dayes
beautie. Let vs be Dianaes Forresters, Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions
of the Moone; and let men say, we be men of good Gouernment, being
gouerned as the Sea, by our noble and chast mistris the Moone, vnder
whose countenance we steale

Prin. Thou say'st well, and it holds well too: for the fortune of vs
that are the Moones men, doeth ebbe and flow like the Sea, beeing
gouerned as the Sea is, by the Moone: as for proofe. Now a Purse of
Gold most resolutely snatch'd on Monday night, and most dissolutely
spent on Tuesday Morning; got with swearing, Lay by: and spent with
crying, Bring in: now, in as low an ebbe as the foot of the Ladder, and
by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the Gallowes

Fal. Thou say'st true Lad: and is not my Hostesse of the Tauerne a
most sweet Wench?

Prin. As is the hony, my old Lad of the Castle: and is not a Buffe
Ierkin a most sweet robe of durance?   Fal. How now? how now mad Wagge?
What in thy quips and thy quiddities? What a plague haue I to doe with
a Buffe-Ierkin?

Prin. Why, what a poxe haue I to doe with my Hostesse of the
Tauerne?

Fal. Well, thou hast call'd her to a reck'ning many a time and oft

Prin. Did I euer call for thee to pay thy part?   Fal. No, Ile giue
thee thy due, thou hast paid al there

Prin. Yea and elsewhere, so farre as my Coine would stretch, and
where it would not, I haue vs'd my credit

Fal. Yea, and so vs'd it, that were it heere apparant, that thou art
Heire apparant. But I prythee sweet Wag, shall there be Gallowes
standing in England when thou art King? and resolution thus fobb'd as
it is, with the rustie curbe of old Father Anticke the Law? Doe not
thou when thou art a King, hang a Theefe

Prin. No, thou shalt

Fal. Shall I? O rare! Ile be a braue Iudge

Prin. Thou iudgest false already. I meane, thou shalt haue the
hanging of the Theeues, and so become a rare Hangman

Fal. Well Hal, well: and in some sort it iumpes with my humour, as
well as waiting in the Court, I can tell you

Prin. For obtaining of suites?

Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suites, whereof the Hangman hath no leane
Wardrobe. I am as Melancholly as a Gyb-Cat, or a lugg'd Beare

Prin. Or an old Lyon, or a Louers Lute

Fal. Yea, or the Drone of a Lincolnshire Bagpipe

Prin. What say'st thou to a Hare, or the Melancholly of Moore
Ditch?

Fal. Thou hast the most vnsauoury smiles, and art indeed the most
comparatiue rascallest sweet yong Prince. But Hal, I prythee trouble me
no more with vanity, I wold thou and I knew, where a Commodity of good
names were to be bought: an olde Lord of the Councell rated me the
other day in the street about you sir; but I mark'd him not, and yet
hee talk'd very wisely, but I regarded him not, and yet he talkt
wisely, and in the street too

Prin. Thou didst well: for no man regards it

Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeede able to
corrupt a Saint. Thou hast done much harme vnto me Hall, God forgiue
thee for it. Before I knew thee Hal, I knew nothing: and now I am (if a
man shold speake truly) little better then one of the wicked. I must
giue ouer this life, and I will giue it ouer: and I do not, I am a
Villaine. Ile be damn'd for neuer a Kings sonne in Christendome

Prin. Where shall we take a purse to morrow, Iacke?   Fal. Where
thou wilt Lad, Ile make one: and I doe not, call me Villaine, and
baffle me

Prin. I see a good amendment of life in thee: From Praying, to
Purse-taking

Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my Vocation Hal: 'Tis no sin for a man to labour
in his Vocation

Pointz. Now shall wee know if Gads hill haue set a Watch. O, if men
were to be saued by merit, what hole in Hell were hot enough for him?
This is the most omnipotent Villaine, that euer cryed, Stand, to a true
man

Prin. Good morrow Ned

Poines. Good morrow sweet Hal. What saies Monsieur remorse? What
sayes Sir Iohn Sacke and Sugar: Iacke? How agrees the Diuell and thee
about thy Soule, that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last, for a Cup
of Madera, and a cold Capons legge?

Prin. Sir Iohn stands to his word, the diuel shall haue his bargaine,
for he was neuer yet a Breaker of Prouerbs: He will giue the diuell his
due

Poin. Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with the diuell

Prin. Else he had damn'd cozening the diuell

Poy. But my Lads, my Lads, to morrow morning, by foure a clocke
early at Gads hill, there are Pilgrimes going to Canterbury with rich
Offerings, and Traders riding to London with fat Purses. I haue vizards
for you all; you haue horses for your selues: Gads-hill lyes to night
in Rochester, I haue bespoke Supper to morrow in Eastcheape; we may doe
it as secure as sleepe: if you will go, I will stuffe your Purses full
of Crownes: if you will not, tarry at home and be hang'd

Fal. Heare ye Yedward, if I tarry at home and go not, Ile hang you
for going

Poy. You will chops

Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one?

Prin. Who, I rob? I a Theefe? Not I

Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee,
nor thou cam'st not of the blood-royall, if thou dar'st not stand for
ten shillings

Prin. Well then, once in my dayes Ile be a mad-cap

Fal. Why, that's well said

Prin. Well, come what will, Ile tarry at home

Fal. Ile be a Traitor then, when thou art King

Prin. I care not

Poyn. Sir Iohn, I prythee leaue the Prince & me alone, I will lay
him downe such reasons for this aduenture, that he shall go

Fal. Well, maist thou haue the Spirit of perswasion; and he the
eares of profiting, that what thou speakest, may moue; and what he
heares may be beleeued, that the true Prince, may (for recreation sake)
proue a false theefe; for the poore abuses of the time, want
countenance. Farwell, you shall finde me in Eastcheape

Prin. Farwell the latter Spring. Farewell Alhollown Summer

Poy. Now, my good sweet Hony Lord, ride with vs to morrow. I haue a
iest to execute, that I cannot mannage alone. Falstaffe, Haruey,
Rossill, and Gads-hill, shall robbe those men that wee haue already
way-layde, your selfe and I, wil not be there: and when they haue the
booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders

Prin. But how shal we part with them in setting forth?   Poyn. Why,
we wil set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of
meeting, wherin it is at our pleasure to faile; and then will they
aduenture vppon the exploit themselues, which they shall haue no sooner
atchieued, but wee'l set vpon them

Prin. I, but tis like that they will know vs by our horses, by our
habits, and by euery other appointment to be our selues

Poy. Tut our horses they shall not see, Ile tye them in the wood,
our vizards wee will change after wee leaue them: and sirrah, I haue
Cases of Buckram for the nonce, to immaske our noted outward garments

Prin. But I doubt they will be too hard for vs

Poin. Well, for two of them, I know them to bee as true bred Cowards
as euer turn'd backe: and for the third if he fight longer then he sees
reason, Ile forswear Armes. The vertue of this Iest will be, the
incomprehensible lyes that this fat Rogue will tell vs, when we meete
at Supper: how thirty at least he fought with, what Wardes, what
blowes, what extremities he endured; and in the reproofe of this, lyes
the iest

Prin. Well, Ile goe with thee, prouide vs all things necessary, and
meete me to morrow night in Eastcheape, there Ile sup. Farewell

Poyn. Farewell, my Lord.

Exit Pointz

Prin. I know you all, and will a-while vphold The vnyoak'd humor of
your idlenesse:

Yet heerein will I imitate the Sunne,

Who doth permit the base contagious cloudes To smother vp his Beauty
from the world,

That when he please againe to be himselfe, Being wanted, he may be more
wondred at,

By breaking through the foule and vgly mists Of vapours, that did seeme
to strangle him. If all the yeare were playing holidaies,

To sport, would be as tedious as to worke; But when they seldome come,
they wisht-for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.

So when this loose behauiour I throw off, And pay the debt I neuer
promised;

By how much better then my word I am,

By so much shall I falsifie mens hopes,

And like bright Mettall on a sullen ground: My reformation glittering
o're my fault,

Shall shew more goodly, and attract more eyes, Then that which hath no
foyle to set it off. Ile so offend, to make offence a skill,

Redeeming time, when men thinke least I will.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspurre, Sir Walter
Blunt,

and others.

King. My blood hath beene too cold and temperate, Vnapt to stirre at
these indignities,

And you haue found me; for accordingly,

You tread vpon my patience: But be sure,

I will from henceforth rather be my Selfe, Mighty, and to be fear'd,
then my condition Which hath beene smooth as Oyle, soft as yong Downe,
And therefore lost that Title of respect, Which the proud soule ne're
payes, but to the proud

Wor. Our house (my Soueraigne Liege) little deserues The scourge of
greatnesse to be vsed on it, And that same greatnesse too, which our
owne hands Haue holpe to make so portly

Nor. My Lord

King. Worcester get thee gone: for I do see Danger and disobedience
in thine eye.

O sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory, And Maiestie might
neuer yet endure

The moody Frontier of a seruant brow,

You haue good leaue to leaue vs. When we need Your vse and counsell, we
shall send for you. You were about to speake

North. Yea, my good Lord.

Those Prisoners in your Highnesse demanded, Which Harry Percy heere at
Holmedon tooke, Were (as he sayes) not with such strength denied As was
deliuered to your Maiesty:

Who either through enuy, or misprision,

Was guilty of this fault; and not my Sonne

Hot. My Liege, I did deny no Prisoners. But, I remember when the
fight was done,

When I was dry with Rage, and extreame Toyle, Breathlesse, and Faint,
leaning vpon my Sword, Came there a certaine Lord, neat and trimly
drest; Fresh as a Bride-groome, and his Chin new reapt, Shew'd like a
stubble Land at Haruest home. He was perfumed like a Milliner,

And 'twixt his Finger and his Thumbe, he held A Pouncet-box: which euer
and anon

He gaue his Nose, and took't away againe: Who therewith angry, when it
next came there, Tooke it in Snuffe. And still he smil'd and talk'd:
And as the Souldiers bare dead bodies by, He call'd them vntaught
Knaues, Vnmannerly, To bring a slouenly vnhandsome Coarse

Betwixt the Winde, and his Nobility.

With many Holiday and Lady tearme

He question'd me: Among the rest, demanded My Prisoners, in your
Maiesties behalfe.

I then, all-smarting, with my wounds being cold, (To be so pestered
with a Popingay)

Out of my Greefe, and my Impatience,

Answer'd (neglectingly) I know not what,

He should, or should not: For he made me mad, To see him shine so
briske, and smell so sweet, And talke so like a Waiting-Gentlewoman,

Of Guns, & Drums, and Wounds: God saue the marke; And telling me, the
Soueraign'st thing on earth Was Parmacity, for an inward bruise:

And that it was great pitty, so it was,

That villanous Salt-peter should be digg'd Out of the Bowels of the
harmlesse Earth, Which many a good Tall Fellow had destroy'd So
Cowardly. And but for these vile Gunnes, He would himselfe haue beene a
Souldier.

This bald, vnioynted Chat of his (my Lord) Made me to answer indirectly
(as I said.)

And I beseech you, let not this report

Come currant for an Accusation,

Betwixt my Loue, and your high Maiesty

Blunt. The circumstance considered, good my Lord, What euer Harry
Percie then had said,

To such a person, and in such a place,

At such a time, with all the rest retold, May reasonably dye, and neuer
rise

To do him wrong, or any way impeach

What then he said, so he vnsay it now

King. Why yet doth deny his Prisoners, But with Prouiso and
Exception,

That we at our owne charge, shall ransome straight His Brother-in-Law,
the foolish Mortimer, Who (in my soule) hath wilfully betraid

The liues of those, that he did leade to Fight, Against the great
Magitian, damn'd Glendower: Whose daughter (as we heare) the Earle of
March Hath lately married. Shall our Coffers then, Be emptied, to
redeeme a Traitor home?

Shall we buy Treason? and indent with Feares, When they haue lost and
forfeyted themselues. No: on the barren Mountaine let him sterue: For I
shall neuer hold that man my Friend, Whose tongue shall aske me for one
peny cost To ransome home reuolted Mortimer

Hot. Reuolted Mortimer?

He neuer did fall off, my Soueraigne Liege, But by the chance of Warre:
to proue that true, Needs no more but one tongue. For all those Wounds,
Those mouthed Wounds, which valiantly he tooke, When on the gentle
Seuernes siedgie banke, In single Opposition hand to hand,

He did confound the best part of an houre In changing hardiment with
great Glendower: Three times they breath'd, and three times did they
drink Vpon agreement, of swift Seuernes flood;

Who then affrighted with their bloody lookes, Ran fearefully among the
trembling Reeds, And hid his crispe-head in the hollow banke,
Blood-stained with these Valiant Combatants. Neuer did base and rotten
Policy

Colour her working with such deadly wounds; Nor neuer could the Noble
Mortimer

Receiue so many, and all willingly:

Then let him not be sland'red with Reuolt

King. Thou do'st bely him Percy, thou dost bely him; He neuer did
encounter with Glendower:

I tell thee, he durst as well haue met the diuell alone, As Owen
Glendower for an enemy.

Art thou not asham'd? But Sirrah, henceforth Let me not heare you
speake of Mortimer.

Send me your Prisoners with the speediest meanes, Or you shall heare in
such a kinde from me As will displease ye. My Lord Northumberland, We
License your departure with your sonne, Send vs your Prisoners, or
you'l heare of it.

Exit King.

Hot. And if the diuell come and roare for them I will not send them.
I will after straight And tell him so: for I will ease my heart,
Although it be with hazard of my head

Nor. What? drunke with choller? stay & pause awhile, Heere comes
your Vnckle.

Enter Worcester.

Hot. Speake of Mortimer?

Yes, I will speake of him, and let my soule Want mercy, if I do not
ioyne with him.

In his behalfe, Ile empty all these Veines, And shed my deere blood
drop by drop i'th dust, But I will lift the downfall Mortimer

As high i'th Ayre, as this Vnthankfull King, As this Ingrate and
Cankred Bullingbrooke

Nor. Brother, the King hath made your Nephew mad   Wor. Who strooke
this heate vp after I was gone?   Hot. He will (forsooth) haue all my
Prisoners: And when I vrg'd the ransom once againe

Of my Wiues Brother, then his cheeke look'd pale, And on my face he
turn'd an eye of death, Trembling euen at the name of Mortimer

Wor. I cannot blame him: was he not proclaim'd By Richard that dead
is, the next of blood?   Nor. He was: I heard the Proclamation,

And then it was, when the vnhappy King

(Whose wrongs in vs God pardon) did set forth Vpon his Irish
Expedition:

From whence he intercepted, did returne

To be depos'd, and shortly murthered

Wor. And for whose death, we in the worlds wide mouth Liue
scandaliz'd, and fouly spoken of

Hot. But soft I pray you; did King Richard then Proclaime my brother
Mortimer,

Heyre to the Crowne?

Nor. He did, my selfe did heare it

Hot. Nay then I cannot blame his Cousin King, That wish'd him on the
barren Mountaines staru'd. But shall it be, that you that set the
Crowne Vpon the head of this forgetfull man,

And for his sake, wore the detested blot

Of murtherous subornation? Shall it be,

That you a world of curses vndergoe,

Being the Agents, or base second meanes,

The Cords, the Ladder, or the Hangman rather? O pardon, if that I
descend so low,

To shew the Line, and the Predicament

Wherein you range vnder this subtill King. Shall it for shame, be
spoken in these dayes, Or fill vp Chronicles in time to come,

That men of your Nobility and Power,

Did gage them both in an vniust behalfe

(As Both of you, God pardon it, haue done) To put downe Richard, that
sweet louely Rose, And plant this Thorne, this Canker Bullingbrooke?
And shall it in more shame be further spoken, That you are fool'd,
discarded, and shooke off By him, for whom these shames ye vnderwent?
No: yet time serues, wherein you may redeeme Your banish'd Honors, and
restore your selues Into the good Thoughts of the world againe. Reuenge
the geering and disdain'd contempt Of this proud King, who studies day
and night To answer all the Debt he owes vnto you,

Euen with the bloody Payment of your deaths: Therefore I say-

Wor. Peace Cousin, say no more.

And now I will vnclaspe a Secret booke,

And to your quicke conceyuing Discontents, Ile reade you Matter, deepe
and dangerous, As full of perill and aduenturous Spirit, As to
o're-walke a Current, roaring loud

On the vnstedfast footing of a Speare

Hot. If he fall in, good night, or sinke or swimme: Send danger from
the East vnto the West,

So Honor crosse it from the North to South, And let them grapple: The
blood more stirres To rowze a Lyon, then to start a Hare

Nor. Imagination of some great exploit, Driues him beyond the bounds
of Patience

Hot. By heauen, me thinkes it were an easie leap, To plucke bright
Honor from the pale-fac'd Moone, Or diue into the bottome of the
deepe,

Where Fadome-line could neuer touch the ground, And plucke vp drowned
Honor by the Lockes: So he that doth redeeme her thence, might weare
Without Co-riuall, all her Dignities:

But out vpon this halfe-fac'd Fellowship

Wor. He apprehends a World of Figures here, But not the forme of
what he should attend: Good Cousin giue me audience for a-while, And
list to me

Hot. I cry you mercy

Wor. Those same Noble Scottes

That are your Prisoners

Hot. Ile keepe them all.

By heauen, he shall not haue a Scot of them: No, if a Scot would saue
his Soule, he shall not. Ile keepe them, by this Hand

Wor. You start away,

And lend no eare vnto my purposes.

Those Prisoners you shall keepe

Hot. Nay, I will: that's flat:

He said, he would not ransome Mortimer:

Forbad my tongue to speake of Mortimer.

But I will finde him when he lyes asleepe, And in his eare, Ile holla
Mortimer.

Nay, Ile haue a Starling shall be taught to speake Nothing but
Mortimer, and giue it him,

To keepe his anger still in motion

Wor. Heare you Cousin: a word

Hot. All studies heere I solemnly defie, Saue how to gall and pinch
this Bullingbrooke, And that same Sword and Buckler Prince of Wales.
But that I thinke his Father loues him not, And would be glad he met
with some mischance, I would haue poyson'd him with a pot of Ale

Wor. Farewell Kinsman: Ile talke to you When you are better temper'd
to attend

Nor. Why what a Waspe-tongu'd & impatient foole Art thou, to breake
into this Womans mood, Tying thine eare to no tongue but thine owne?
Hot. Why look you, I am whipt & scourg'd with rods, Netled, and stung
with Pismires, when I heare Of this vile Politician Bullingbrooke.

In Richards time: What de'ye call the place? A plague vpon't, it is in
Gloustershire:

'Twas, where the madcap Duke his Vncle kept, His Vncle Yorke, where I
first bow'd my knee Vnto this King of Smiles, this Bullingbrooke: When
you and he came backe from Rauenspurgh

Nor. At Barkley Castle

Hot. You say true:

Why what a caudie deale of curtesie,

This fawning Grey-hound then did proffer me, Looke when his infant
Fortune came to age, And gentle Harry Percy, and kinde Cousin: O, the
Diuell take such Couzeners, God forgiue me, Good Vncle tell your tale,
for I haue done

Wor. Nay, if you haue not, too't againe, Wee'l stay your leysure

Hot. I haue done insooth

Wor. Then once more to your Scottish Prisoners. Deliuer them vp
without their ransome straight, And make the Dowglas sonne your onely
meane For powres in Scotland: which for diuers reasons Which I shall
send you written, be assur'd Will easily be granted you, my Lord.

Your Sonne in Scotland being thus imploy'd, Shall secretly into the
bosome creepe

Of that same noble Prelate, well belou'd, The Archbishop

Hot. Of Yorke, is't not?

Wor. True, who beares hard

His Brothers death at Bristow, the Lord Scroope. I speake not this in
estimation,

As what I thinke might be, but what I know Is ruminated, plotted, and
set downe,

And onely stayes but to behold the face

Of that occasion that shall bring it on

Hot. I smell it:

Vpon my life, it will do wond'rous well

Nor. Before the game's a-foot, thou still let'st slip

Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a Noble plot, And then the power
of Scotland, and of Yorke To ioyne with Mortimer, Ha

Wor. And so they shall

Hot. Infaith it is exceedingly well aym'd

Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids vs speed, To saue our heads, by
raising of a Head:

For, beare our selues as euen as we can,

The King will alwayes thinke him in our debt, And thinke, we thinke our
selues vnsatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay vs home. And see
already, how he doth beginne

To make vs strangers to his lookes of loue

Hot. He does, he does; wee'l be reueng'd on him

Wor. Cousin, farewell. No further go in this, Then I by Letters
shall direct your course When time is ripe, which will be sodainly: Ile
steale to Glendower, and loe, Mortimer, Where you, and Dowglas, and our
powres at once, As I will fashion it, shall happily meete, To beare our
fortunes in our owne strong armes, Which now we hold at much
vncertainty

Nor. Farewell good Brother, we shall thriue, I trust

Hot. Vncle, adieu: O let the houres be short, Till fields, and
blowes, and grones, applaud our sport.

Exit



Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter a Carrier with a Lanterne in his hand.

1.Car. Heigh-ho, an't be not foure by the day, Ile be hang'd. Charles
waine is ouer the new Chimney, and yet our horse not packt. What
Ostler?

Ost. Anon, anon

1.Car. I prethee Tom, beate Cuts Saddle, put a few Flockes in the
point: the poore Iade is wrung in the withers, out of all cesse.

Enter another Carrier.

2.Car. Pease and Beanes are as danke here as a Dog, and this is the
next way to giue poore Iades the Bottes: This house is turned vpside
downe since Robin the Ostler dyed

1.Car. Poore fellow neuer ioy'd since the price of oats rose, it was
the death of him

2.Car. I thinke this is the most villanous house in al London rode
for Fleas: I am stung like a Tench

1.Car. Like a Tench? There is ne're a King in Christendome, could be
better bit, then I haue beene since the first Cocke

2.Car. Why, you will allow vs ne're a Iourden, and then we leake in
your Chimney: and your Chamber-lye breeds Fleas like a Loach

1.Car. What Ostler, come away, and be hangd: come away

2.Car. I haue a Gammon of Bacon, and two razes of Ginger, to be
deliuered as farre as Charing-crosse

1.Car. The Turkies in my Pannier are quite starued. What Ostler? A
plague on thee, hast thou neuer an eye in thy head? Can'st not heare?
And t'were not as good a deed as drinke, to break the pate of thee, I
am a very Villaine. Come and be hang'd, hast no faith in thee? Enter
Gads-hill.

Gad. Good-morrow Carriers. What's a clocke?   Car. I thinke it be two
a clocke

Gad. I prethee lend me thy Lanthorne to see my Gelding in the
stable

1.Car. Nay soft I pray ye, I know a trick worth two of that

Gad. I prethee lend me thine

2.Car. I, when, canst tell? Lend mee thy Lanthorne (quoth-a) marry
Ile see thee hang'd first

Gad. Sirra Carrier: What time do you mean to come to London?

2.Car. Time enough to goe to bed with a Candle, I warrant thee. Come
neighbour Mugges, wee'll call vp the Gentlemen, they will along with
company, for they haue great charge.

Exeunt.

Enter Chamberlaine.

Gad. What ho, Chamberlaine?

Cham. At hand quoth Pick-purse

Gad. That's euen as faire, as at hand quoth the Chamberlaine: For
thou variest no more from picking of Purses, then giuing direction,
doth from labouring. Thou lay'st the plot, how

Cham. Good morrow Master Gads-Hill, it holds currant that I told you
yesternight. There's a Franklin in the wilde of Kent, hath brought
three hundred Markes with him in Gold: I heard him tell it to one of
his company last night at Supper; a kinde of Auditor, one that hath
abundance of charge too (God knowes what) they are vp already, and call
for Egges and Butter. They will away presently

Gad. Sirra, if they meete not with S[aint]. Nicholas Clarks, Ile
giue thee this necke

Cham. No, Ile none of it: I prythee keep that for the Hangman, for I
know thou worshipst S[aint]. Nicholas as truly as a man of falshood
may

Gad. What talkest thou to me of the Hangman? If I hang, Ile make a
fat payre of Gallowes. For, if I hang, old Sir Iohn hangs with mee, and
thou know'st hee's no Starueling. Tut, there are other Troians that y
dream'st not of, the which (for sport sake) are content to doe the
Profession some grace; that would (if matters should bee look'd into)
for their owne Credit sake, make all Whole. I am ioyned with no
Foot-land-Rakers, No Long-staffe six-penny strikers, none of these mad

Mustachio-purple-hu'd-Maltwormes,

but with Nobility, and Tranquilitie;

Bourgomasters, and great Oneyers, such as can holde in, such as will
strike sooner then speake; and speake sooner then drinke, and drinke
sooner then pray: and yet I lye, for they pray continually vnto their
Saint the Commonwealth; or rather, not to pray to her, but prey on her:
for they ride vp & downe on her, and make hir their Boots

Cham. What, the Commonwealth their Bootes? Will she hold out water
in foule way?

Gad. She will, she will; Iustice hath liquor'd her. We steale as in a
Castle, cocksure: we haue the receit of Fernseede, we walke inuisible

Cham. Nay, I thinke rather, you are more beholding to the Night,
then to the Fernseed, for your walking inuisible

Gad. Giue me thy hand.

Thou shalt haue a share in our purpose,

As I am a true man

Cham. Nay, rather let mee haue it, as you are a false Theefe

Gad. Goe too: Homo is a common name to all men. Bid the Ostler bring
the Gelding out of the stable. Farewell, ye muddy Knaue.

Exeunt.



Scaena Secunda.



Enter Prince, Poynes, and Peto.

Poines. Come shelter, shelter, I haue remoued Falstafs Horse, and he
frets like a gum'd Veluet

Prin. Stand close.

Enter Falstaffe.

Fal. Poines, Poines, and be hang'd Poines

Prin. Peace ye fat-kidney'd Rascall, what a brawling dost thou
keepe

Fal. What Poines. Hal?

Prin. He is walk'd vp to the top of the hill, Ile go seek him

Fal. I am accurst to rob in that Theefe company: that Rascall hath
remoued my Horse, and tied him I know not where. If I trauell but foure
foot by the squire further a foote, I shall breake my winde. Well, I
doubt not but to dye a faire death for all this, if I scape hanging for
killing that Rogue, I haue forsworne his company hourely any time this
two and twenty yeare, & yet I am bewitcht with the Rogues company. If
the Rascall haue not giuen me medicines to make me loue him, Ile be
hang'd; it could not be else: I haue drunke Medicines. Poines, Hal, a
Plague vpon you both. Bardolph, Peto: Ile starue ere I rob a foote
further. And 'twere not as good a deede as to drinke, to turne
True-man, and to leaue these Rogues, I am the veriest Varlet that euer
chewed with a Tooth. Eight yards of vneuen ground, is threescore & ten
miles afoot with me: and the stony-hearted Villaines knowe it well
enough. A plague vpon't, when Theeues cannot be true one to another.

They Whistle.

Whew: a plague light vpon you all. Giue my Horse you Rogues: giue me my
Horse, and be hang'd

Prin. Peace ye fat guttes, lye downe, lay thine eare close to the
ground, and list if thou can heare the tread of Trauellers

Fal. Haue you any Leauers to lift me vp again being downe? Ile not
beare mine owne flesh so far afoot again, for all the coine in thy
Fathers Exchequer. What a plague meane ye to colt me thus?

Prin. Thou ly'st, thou art not colted, thou art vncolted

Fal. I prethee good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good Kings
sonne

Prin. Out you Rogue, shall I be your Ostler?   Fal. Go hang thy
selfe in thine owne heire-apparant-Garters: If I be tane, Ile peach for
this: and I haue not Ballads made on all, and sung to filthy tunes, let
a Cup of Sacke be my poyson: when a iest is so forward, & a foote too,
I hate it.

Enter Gads-hill.

Gad. Stand

Fal. So I do against my will

Poin. O 'tis our Setter, I know his voyce: Bardolfe, what newes?

Bar. Case ye, case ye; on with your Vizards, there's mony of the
Kings comming downe the hill, 'tis going to the Kings Exchequer

Fal. You lie you rogue, 'tis going to the Kings Tauern

Gad. There's enough to make vs all

Fal. To be hang'd

Prin. You foure shall front them in the narrow Lane: Ned and I, will
walke lower; if they scape from your encounter, then they light on vs

Peto. But how many be of them?

Gad. Some eight or ten

Fal. Will they not rob vs?

Prin. What, a Coward Sir Iohn Paunch?

Fal. Indeed I am not Iohn of Gaunt your Grandfather; but yet no
Coward, Hal

Prin. Wee'l leaue that to the proofe

Poin. Sirra Iacke, thy horse stands behinde the hedg, when thou
need'st him, there thou shalt finde him. Farewell, and stand fast

Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd

Prin. Ned, where are our disguises?

Poin. Heere hard by: Stand close

Fal. Now my Masters, happy man be his dole, say I: euery man to his
businesse.

Enter Trauellers

Tra. Come Neighbor: the boy shall leade our Horses downe the hill:
Wee'l walke a-foot a while, and ease our Legges

Theeues. Stay

Tra. Iesu blesse vs

Fal. Strike down with them, cut the villains throats; a whorson
Caterpillars: Bacon-fed Knaues, they hate vs youth; downe with them,
fleece them

Tra. O, we are vndone, both we and ours for euer

Fal. Hang ye gorbellied knaues, are you vndone? No ye Fat Chuffes, I
would your store were heere. On Bacons, on, what ye knaues? Yong men
must liue, you are Grand Iurers, are ye? Wee'l iure ye ifaith.

Heere they rob them, and binde them. Enter the Prince and Poines.

Prin. The Theeues haue bound the True-men: Now could thou and I rob
the Theeues, and go merily to London, it would be argument for a Weeke,
Laughter for a Moneth, and a good iest for euer

Poynes. Stand close, I heare them comming. Enter Theeues againe.

Fal. Come my Masters, let vs share, and then to horsse before day:
and the Prince and Poynes bee not two arrand Cowards, there's no equity
stirring. There's no moe valour in that Poynes, than in a wilde Ducke

Prin. Your money

Poin. Villaines.

As they are sharing, the Prince and Poynes set vpon them. They all run

away, leauing the booty behind them.

Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to Horse: The Theeues are
scattred, and possest with fear so strongly, that they dare not meet
each other: each takes his fellow for an Officer. Away good Ned,
Falstaffe sweates to death, and Lards the leane earth as he walkes
along: wer't not for laughing, I should pitty him

Poin. How the Rogue roar'd.

Exeunt.



Scoena Tertia.

Enter Hotspurre solus, reading a Letter.

But for mine owne part, my Lord. I could bee well contented to be
there, in respect of the loue I beare your house. He could be
contented: Why is he not then? in respect of the loue he beares our
house. He shewes in this, he loues his owne Barne better then he loues
our house. Let me see some more. The purpose you vndertake is
dangerous. Why that's certaine: 'Tis dangerous to take a Colde, to
sleepe, to drinke: but I tell you (my Lord foole) out of this Nettle,
Danger; we plucke this Flower, Safety. The purpose you vndertake is
dangerous, the Friends you haue named vncertaine, the Time it selfe
vnsorted, and your whole Plot too light, for the counterpoize of so
great an Opposition. Say you so, say you so: I say vnto you againe, you
are a shallow cowardly Hinde, and you Lye. What a lackebraine is this?
I protest, our plot is as good a plot as euer was laid; our Friend true
and constant: A good Plotte, good Friends, and full of expectation: An
excellent plot, very good Friends. What a Frosty-spirited rogue is
this? Why, my Lord of Yorke commends the plot, and the generall course
of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this Rascall, I could
braine him with his Ladies Fan. Is there not my Father, my Vncle, and
my Selfe, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of Yorke, and Owen Glendour? Is
there not besides, the Dowglas? Haue I not all their letters, to meete
me in Armes by the ninth of the next Moneth? and are they not some of
them set forward already? What a Pagan Rascall is this? An Infidell.
Ha, you shall see now in very sincerity of Feare and Cold heart, will
he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could diuide my
selfe, and go to buffets, for mouing such a dish of skim'd Milk with so
honourable an Action. Hang him, let him tell the King we are prepared.
I will set forwards to night.

Enter his Lady.

How now Kate, I must leaue you within these two hours

La. O my good Lord, why are you thus alone? For what offence haue I
this fortnight bin A banish'd woman from my Harries bed?

Tell me (sweet Lord) what is't that takes from thee Thy stomacke,
pleasure, and thy golden sleepe? Why dost thou bend thine eyes vpon the
earth? And start so often when thou sitt'st alone? Why hast thou lost
the fresh blood in thy cheekes? And giuen my Treasures and my rights of
thee, To thicke-ey'd musing, and curst melancholly? In my
faint-slumbers, I by thee haue watcht, And heard thee murmore tales of
Iron Warres: Speake tearmes of manage to thy bounding Steed, Cry
courage to the field. And thou hast talk'd Of Sallies, and Retires;
Trenches, Tents, Of Palizadoes, Frontiers, Parapets,

Of Basiliskes, of Canon, Culuerin,

Of Prisoners ransome, and of Souldiers slaine, And all the current of a
headdy fight.

Thy spirit within thee hath beene so at Warre, And thus hath so
bestirr'd thee in thy sleepe, That beds of sweate hath stood vpon thy
Brow, Like bubbles in a late-disturbed Streame; And in thy face strange
motions haue appear'd, Such as we see when men restraine their breath
On some great sodaine hast. O what portents are these? Some heauie
businesse hath my Lord in hand, And I must know it: else he loues me
not

Hot. What ho; Is Gilliams with the Packet gone?   Ser. He is my
Lord, an houre agone

Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses fro[m] the Sheriffe?   Ser.
One horse, my Lord, he brought euen now

Hot. What Horse? A Roane, a crop eare, is it not

Ser. It is my Lord

Hot. That Roane shall be my Throne. Well, I will backe him straight.
Esperance, bid Butler lead him forth into the Parke

La. But heare you, my lord

Hot. What say'st thou my Lady?

La. What is it carries you away?

Hot. Why, my horse (my Loue) my horse

La. Out you mad-headed Ape, a Weazell hath not such a deale of
Spleene, as you are tost with. In sooth Ile know your businesse Harry,
that I will. I feare my Brother Mortimer doth stirre about his Title,
and hath sent for you to line his enterprize. But if you go-   Hot. So
farre a foot, I shall be weary, Loue

La. Come, come, you Paraquito, answer me directly vnto this
question, that I shall aske. Indeede Ile breake thy little finger
Harry, if thou wilt not tel me true

Hot. Away, away you trifler: Loue, I loue thee not, I care not for
thee Kate: this is no world To play with Mammets, and to tilt with
lips. We must haue bloodie Noses, and crack'd Crownes, And passe them
currant too. Gods me, my horse. What say'st thou Kate? what wold'st
thou haue with me?   La. Do ye not loue me? Do ye not indeed? Well, do
not then. For since you loue me not, I will not loue my selfe. Do you
not loue me? Nay, tell me if thou speak'st in iest, or no

Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?

And when I am a horsebacke, I will sweare I loue thee infinitely. But
hearke you Kate, I must not haue you henceforth, question me, Whether I
go: nor reason whereabout.

Whether I must, I must: and to conclude,

This Euening must I leaue thee, gentle Kate. I know you wise, but yet
no further wise

Then Harry Percies wife. Constant you are, But yet a woman: and for
secrecie,

No Lady closer. For I will beleeue

Thou wilt not vtter what thou do'st not know, And so farre wilt I trust
thee, gentle Kate

La. How so farre?

Hot. Not an inch further. But harke you Kate, Whither I go, thither
shall you go too:

To day will I set forth, to morrow you.

Will this content you Kate?

La. It must of force.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Prince and Poines.

Prin. Ned, prethee come out of that fat roome, & lend me thy hand to
laugh a little

Poines. Where hast bene Hall?

Prin. With three or foure Logger-heads, amongst 3. or fourescore
Hogsheads. I haue sounded the verie base string of humility. Sirra, I
am sworn brother to a leash of Drawers, and can call them by their
names, as Tom, Dicke, and Francis. They take it already vpon their
confidence, that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the King of
Curtesie: telling me flatly I am no proud Iack like Falstaffe, but a
Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, and when I am King of England,
I shall command al the good Laddes in East-cheape. They call drinking
deepe, dying Scarlet; and when you breath in your watering, then they
cry hem, and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am so good a
proficient in one quarter of an houre, that I can drinke with any
Tinker in his owne Language during my life. I tell thee Ned, thou hast
lost much honor, that thou wer't not with me in this action: but sweet
Ned, to sweeten which name of Ned, I giue thee this peniworth of Sugar,
clapt euen now into my hand by an vnder Skinker, one that neuer spake
other English in his life, then Eight shillings and six pence, and, You
are welcome: with this shril addition, Anon, Anon sir, Score a Pint of
Bastard in the Halfe Moone, or so. But Ned, to driue away time till
Falstaffe come, I prythee doe thou stand in some by-roome, while I
question my puny Drawer, to what end hee gaue me the Sugar, and do
neuer leaue calling Francis, that his Tale to me may be nothing but,
Anon: step aside, and Ile shew thee a President

Poines. Francis

Prin. Thou art perfect

Poin. Francis.

Enter Drawer.

Fran. Anon, anon sir; looke downe into the Pomgarnet, Ralfe

Prince. Come hither Francis

Fran. My Lord

Prin. How long hast thou to serue, Francis?   Fran. Forsooth fiue
yeares, and as much as to-   Poin. Francis

Fran. Anon, anon sir

Prin. Fiue yeares: Berlady a long Lease for the clinking of Pewter.
But Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy
Indenture, & show it a faire paire of heeles, and run from it?

Fran. O Lord sir, Ile be sworne vpon all the Books in England, I
could finde in my heart

Poin. Francis

Fran. Anon, anon sir

Prin. How old art thou, Francis?

Fran. Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shalbe-   Poin. Francis

Fran. Anon sir, pray you stay a little, my Lord

Prin. Nay but harke you Francis, for the Sugar thou gauest me, 'twas
a penyworth, was't not?

Fran. O Lord sir, I would it had bene two

Prin. I will giue thee for it a thousand pound: Aske me when thou
wilt, and thou shalt haue it

Poin. Francis

Fran. Anon, anon

Prin. Anon Francis? No Francis, but to morrow Francis: or Francis,
on thursday: or indeed Francis when thou wilt. But Francis

Fran. My Lord

Prin. Wilt thou rob this Leatherne Ierkin, Christall button,
Not-pated, Agat ring, Puke stocking, Caddice garter, Smooth tongue,
Spanish pouch

Fran. O Lord sir, who do you meane?

Prin. Why then your browne Bastard is your onely drinke: for looke
you Francis, your white Canuas doublet will sulley. In Barbary sir, it
cannot come to so much

Fran. What sir?

Poin. Francis

Prin. Away you Rogue, dost thou heare them call?

Heere they both call him, the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing which
way

to go.

Enter Vintner.

Vint. What, stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling? Looke to
the Guests within: My Lord, olde Sir Iohn with halfe a dozen more, are
at the doore: shall I let them in?

Prin. Let them alone awhile, and then open the doore. Poines.

Enter Poines.

Poin. Anon, anon sir

Prin. Sirra, Falstaffe and the rest of the Theeues, are at the
doore, shall we be merry?

Poin. As merrie as Crickets my Lad. But harke yee, What cunning match
haue you made this iest of the Drawer? Come, what's the issue?

Prin. I am now of all humors, that haue shewed themselues humors,
since the old dayes of goodman Adam, to the pupill age of this present
twelue a clock at midnight. What's a clocke Francis?

Fran. Anon, anon sir

Prin. That euer this Fellow should haue fewer words then a Parret,
and yet the sonne of a Woman. His industry is vp-staires and
down-staires, his eloquence the parcell of a reckoning. I am not yet of
Percies mind, the Hotspurre of the North, he that killes me some sixe
or seauen dozen of Scots at a Breakfast, washes his hands, and saies to
his wife; Fie vpon this quiet life, I want worke. O my sweet Harry
sayes she, how many hast thou kill'd to day? Giue my Roane horse a
drench (sayes hee) and answeres, some fourteene, an houre after: a
trifle, a trifle. I prethee call in Falstaffe, Ile play Percy, and that
damn'd Brawne shall play Dame Mortimer his wife. Riuo, sayes the
drunkard. Call in Ribs, call in Tallow.

Enter Falstaffe.

Poin. Welcome Iacke, where hast thou beene?   Fal. A plague of all
Cowards I say, and a Vengeance too, marry and Amen. Giue me a cup of
Sacke Boy. Ere I leade this life long, Ile sowe nether stockes, and
mend them too. A plague of all cowards. Giue me a Cup of Sacke, Rogue.
Is there no Vertue extant?

Prin. Didst thou neuer see Titan kisse a dish of Butter, pittifull
hearted Titan that melted at the sweete Tale of the Sunne? If thou
didst, then behold that compound

Fal. You Rogue, heere's Lime in this Sacke too: there is nothing but
Roguery to be found in Villanous man; yet a Coward is worse then a Cup
of Sack with lime. A villanous Coward, go thy wayes old Iacke, die when
thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood be not forgot vpon the face of the
earth, then am I a shotten Herring: there liues not three good men
vnhang'd in England, & one of them is fat, and growes old, God helpe
the while, a bad world I say. I would I were a Weauer, I could sing all
manner of songs. A plague of all Cowards, I say still

Prin. How now Woolsacke, what mutter you?   Fal. A Kings Sonne? If I
do not beate thee out of thy Kingdome with a dagger of Lath, and driue
all thy Subiects afore thee like a flocke of Wilde-geese, Ile neuer
weare haire on my face more. You Prince of Wales?   Prin. Why you
horson round man? what's the matter?   Fal. Are you not a Coward?
Answer me to that, and Poines there?

Prin. Ye fat paunch, and yee call mee Coward, Ile stab thee

Fal. I call thee Coward? Ile see thee damn'd ere I call the Coward:
but I would giue a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst.
You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your
backe: Call you that backing of your friends? a plague vpon such
backing: giue me them that will face me. Giue me a Cup of Sack, I am a
Rogue if I drunke to day

Prin. O Villaine, thy Lippes are scarce wip'd, since thou drunk'st
last

Falst. All's one for that.

He drinkes.

A plague of all Cowards still, say I

Prince. What's the matter?

Falst. What's the matter? here be foure of vs, haue ta'ne a thousand
pound this Morning

Prince. Where is it, Iack? where is it?   Falst. Where is it? taken
from vs, it is: a hundred vpon poore foure of vs

Prince. What, a hundred, man?

Falst. I am a Rogue, if I were not at halfe Sword with a dozen of
them two houres together. I haue scaped by miracle. I am eight times
thrust through the Doublet, foure through the Hose, my Buckler cut
through and through, my Sword hackt like a Hand-saw, ecce signum. I
neuer dealt better since I was a man: all would not doe. A plague of
all Cowards: let them speake; if they speake more or lesse then truth,
they are villaines, and the sonnes of darknesse

Prince. Speake sirs, how was it?

Gad. We foure set vpon some dozen

Falst. Sixteene, at least, my Lord

Gad. And bound them

Peto. No, no, they were not bound

Falst. You Rogue, they were bound, euery man of them, or I am a Iew
else, an Ebrew Iew

Gad. As we were sharing, some sixe or seuen fresh men set vpon vs

Falst. And vnbound the rest, and then come in the other

Prince. What, fought yee with them all?   Falst. All? I know not
what yee call all: but if I fought not with fiftie of them, I am a
bunch of Radish: if there were not two or three and fiftie vpon poore
olde Iack, then am I no two-legg'd Creature

Poin. Pray Heauen, you haue not murthered some of them

Falst. Nay, that's past praying for, I haue pepper'd two of them:
Two I am sure I haue payed, two Rogues in Buckrom Sutes. I tell thee
what, Hal, if I tell thee a Lye, spit in my face, call me Horse: thou
knowest my olde word: here I lay, and thus I bore my point; foure
Rogues in Buckrom let driue at me

Prince. What, foure? thou sayd'st but two, euen now

Falst. Foure Hal, I told thee foure

Poin. I, I, he said foure

Falst. These foure came all a-front, and mainely thrust at me; I
made no more adoe, but tooke all their seuen points in my Targuet,
thus

Prince. Seuen? why there were but foure, euen now

Falst. In buckrom

Poin. I, foure, in Buckrom Sutes

Falst. Seuen, by these Hilts, or I am a Villaine else

Prin. Prethee let him alone, we shall haue more anon

Falst. Doest thou heare me, Hal?

Prin. I, and marke thee too, Iack

Falst. Doe so, for it is worth the listning too: these nine in
Buckrom, that I told thee of

Prin. So, two more alreadie

Falst. Their Points being broken

Poin. Downe fell his Hose

Falst. Began to giue me ground: but I followed me close, came in
foot and hand; and with a thought, seuen of the eleuen I pay'd

Prin. O monstrous! eleuen Buckrom men growne out of two?

Falst. But as the Deuill would haue it, three mis-begotten Knaues, in
Kendall Greene, came at my Back, and let driue at me; for it was so
darke, Hal, that thou could'st not see thy Hand

Prin. These Lyes are like the Father that begets them, grosse as a
Mountaine, open, palpable. Why thou Claybrayn'd Guts, thou Knotty-pated
Foole, thou Horson obscene greasie Tallow Catch

Falst. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth, the
truth?

Prin. Why, how could'st thou know these men in Kendall Greene, when
it was so darke, thou could'st not see thy Hand? Come, tell vs your
reason: what say'st thou to this?

Poin. Come, your reason Iack, your reason

Falst. What, vpon compulsion? No: were I at the Strappado, or all
the Racks in the World, I would not tell you on compulsion. Giue you a
reason on compulsion? If Reasons were as plentie as Black-berries, I
would giue no man a Reason vpon compulsion, I

Prin. Ile be no longer guiltie of this sinne. This sanguine Coward,
this Bed-presser, this Hors-back-breaker, this huge Hill of Flesh

Falst. Away you Starueling, you Elfe-skin, you dried Neats tongue,
Bulles-pissell, you stocke-fish: O for breth to vtter. What is like
thee? You Tailors yard, you sheath you Bow-case, you vile standing
tucke

Prin. Well, breath a-while, and then to't againe: and when thou hast
tyr'd thy selfe in base comparisons, heare me speake but thus

Poin. Marke Iacke

Prin. We two, saw you foure set on foure and bound them, and were
Masters of their Wealth: mark now how a plaine Tale shall put you
downe. Then did we two, set on you foure, and with a word, outfac'd you
from your prize, and haue it: yea, and can shew it you in the House.
And Falstaffe, you caried your Guts away as nimbly, with as quicke
dexteritie, and roared for mercy, and still ranne and roar'd, as euer I
heard Bull-Calfe. What a Slaue art thou, to hacke thy sword as thou
hast done, and then say it was in fight. What trick? what deuice? what
starting hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and
apparant shame?

Poines. Come, let's heare Iacke: What tricke hast thou now?

Fal. I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why heare ye my Masters,
was it for me to kill the Heire apparant? Should I turne vpon the true
Prince? Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware
Instinct, the Lion will not touch the true Prince: Instinct is a great
matter. I was a Coward on Instinct: I shall thinke the better of my
selfe, and thee, during my life: I, for a valiant Lion, and thou for a
true Prince. But Lads, I am glad you haue the Mony. Hostesse, clap to
the doores: watch to night, pray to morrow. Gallants, Lads, Boyes,
Harts of Gold, all the good Titles of Fellowship come to you. What,
shall we be merry? shall we haue a Play extempory

Prin. Content, and the argument shall be, thy runing away

Fal. A, no more of that Hall, and thou louest me.

Enter Hostesse

Host. My Lord, the Prince?

Prin. How now my Lady the Hostesse, what say'st thou to me?

Hostesse. Marry, my Lord, there is a Noble man of the Court at doore
would speake with you: hee sayes, hee comes from your Father

Prin. Giue him as much as will make him a Royall man, and send him
backe againe to my Mother

Falst. What manner of man is hee?

Hostesse. An old man

Falst. What doth Grauitie out of his Bed at Midnight? Shall I giue
him his answere?

Prin. Prethee doe Iacke

Falst. 'Faith, and Ile send him packing. Enter.

Prince. Now Sirs: you fought faire; so did you Peto, so did you
Bardol: you are Lyons too, you ranne away vpon instinct: you will not
touch the true Prince; no, fie

Bard. 'Faith, I ranne when I saw others runne

Prin. Tell mee now in earnest, how came Falstaffes Sword so hackt?

Peto. Why, he hackt it with his Dagger, and said, hee would sweare
truth out of England, but hee would make you beleeue it was done in
fight, and perswaded vs to doe the like

Bard. Yea, and to tickle our Noses with Spear-grasse, to make them
bleed, and then to beslubber our garments with it, and sweare it was
the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seuen yeeres before, I
blusht to heare his monstrous deuices

Prin. O Villaine, thou stolest a Cup of Sacke eighteene yeeres agoe,
and wert taken with the manner, and euer since thou hast blusht
extempore: thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou ranst
away; what instinct hadst thou for it?

Bard. My Lord, doe you see these Meteors? doe you behold these
Exhalations?

Prin. I doe

Bard. What thinke you they portend?

Prin. Hot Liuers, and cold Purses

Bard. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken

Prin. No, if rightly taken, Halter.

Enter Falstaffe.

Heere comes leane Iacke, heere comes bare-bone. How now my sweet
Creature of Bombast, how long is't agoe, Iacke, since thou saw'st thine
owne Knee?   Falst. My owne Knee? When I was about thy yeeres (Hal) I
was not an Eagles Talent in the Waste, I could haue crept into any
Aldermans Thumbe-Ring: a plague of sighing and griefe, it blowes a man
vp like a Bladder. There's villanous Newes abroad; heere was Sir Iohn
Braby from your Father; you must goe to the Court in the Morning. The
same mad fellow of the North, Percy; and hee of Wales, that gaue Amamon
the Bastinado, and made Lucifer Cuckold, and swore the Deuill his true
Liege-man vpon the Crosse of a Welch-hooke; what a plague call you
him?

Poin. O, Glendower

Falst. Owen, Owen; the same, and his Sonne in Law Mortimer, and old
Northumberland, and the sprightly Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runnes a
Horse-backe vp a Hill perpendicular

Prin. Hee that rides at high speede, and with a Pistoll kills a
Sparrow flying

Falst. You haue hit it

Prin. So did he neuer the Sparrow

Falst. Well, that Rascall hath good mettall in him, hee will not
runne

Prin. Why, what a Rascall art thou then, to prayse him so for
running?

Falst. A Horse-backe (ye Cuckoe) but a foot hee will not budge a
foot

Prin. Yes Iacke, vpon instinct

Falst. I grant ye, vpon instinct: Well, hee is there too, and one
Mordake, and a thousand blew-Cappes more. Worcester is stolne away by
Night: thy Fathers Beard is turn'd white with the Newes; you may buy
Land now as cheape as stinking Mackrell

Prin. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot Sunne, and this ciuill
buffetting hold, wee shall buy Maiden-heads as they buy Hob-nayles, by
the Hundreds

Falst. By the Masse Lad, thou say'st true, it is like wee shall haue
good trading that way. But tell me Hal, art not thou horrible afear'd?
thou being Heire apparant, could the World picke thee out three such
Enemyes againe, as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that
Deuill Glendower? Art not thou horrible afraid? Doth not thy blood
thrill at it?

Prin. Not a whit: I lacke some of thy instinct

Falst. Well, thou wilt be horrible chidde to morrow, when thou
commest to thy Father: if thou doe loue me, practise an answere

Prin. Doe thou stand for my Father, and examine mee vpon the
particulars of my Life

Falst. Shall I? content: This Chayre shall bee my State, this Dagger
my Scepter, and this Cushion my Crowne

Prin. Thy State is taken for a Ioyn'd-Stoole, thy Golden Scepter for
a Leaden Dagger, and thy precious rich Crowne, for a pittifull bald
Crowne

Falst. Well, and the fire of Grace be not quite out of thee now
shalt thou be moued. Giue me a Cup of Sacke to make mine eyes looke
redde, that it may be thought I haue wept, for I must speake in
passion, and I will doe it in King Cambyses vaine

Prin. Well, heere is my Legge

Falst. And heere is my speech: stand aside Nobilitie

Hostesse. This is excellent sport, yfaith

Falst. Weepe not, sweet Queene, for trickling teares are vaine

Hostesse. O the Father, how hee holdes his countenance?   Falst. For
Gods sake Lords, conuey my trustfull Queen, For teares doe stop the
floud-gates of her eyes

Hostesse. O rare, he doth it as like one of these harlotry Players,
as euer I see

Falst. Peace good Pint-pot, peace good Tickle-braine. Harry, I doe
not onely maruell where thou spendest thy time; but also, how thou art
accompanied: For though the Camomile, the more it is troden, the faster
it growes; yet Youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it weares. Thou
art my Sonne: I haue partly thy Mothers Word, partly my Opinion; but
chiefely, a villanous tricke of thine Eye, and a foolish hanging of thy
nether Lippe, that doth warrant me. If then thou be Sonne to mee, heere
lyeth the point: why, being Sonne to me, art thou so poynted at? Shall
the blessed Sonne of Heauen proue a Micher, and eate Black-berryes? a
question not to bee askt. Shall the Sonne of England proue a Theefe,
and take Purses? a question to be askt. There is a thing, Harry, which
thou hast often heard of, and it is knowne to many in our Land, by the
Name of Pitch: this Pitch (as ancient Writers doe report) doth defile;
so doth the companie thou keepest: for Harry, now I doe not speake to
thee in Drinke, but in Teares; not in Pleasure, but in Passion; not in
Words onely, but in Woes also: and yet there is a vertuous man, whom I
haue often noted in thy companie, but I know not his Name

Prin. What manner of man, and it like your Maiestie?   Falst. A
goodly portly man yfaith, and a corpulent, of a chearefull Looke, a
pleasing Eye, and a most noble Carriage, and as I thinke, his age some
fiftie, or (byrlady) inclining to threescore; and now I remember mee,
his Name is Falstaffe: if that man should be lewdly giuen, hee deceiues
mee; for Harry, I see Vertue in his Lookes. If then the Tree may be
knowne by the Fruit, as the Fruit by the Tree, then peremptorily I
speake it, there is Vertue in that Falstaffe: him keepe with, the rest
banish. And tell mee now, thou naughtie Varlet, tell mee, where hast
thou beene this moneth?

Prin. Do'st thou speake like a King? doe thou stand for mee, and Ile
play my Father

Falst. Depose me: if thou do'st it halfe so grauely, so
maiestically, both in word and matter, hang me vp by the heeles for a
Rabbet-sucker, or a Poulters Hare

Prin. Well, heere I am set

Falst. And heere I stand: iudge my Masters

Prin. Now Harry, whence come you?

Falst. My Noble Lord, from East-cheape

Prin. The complaints I heare of thee, are grieuous

Falst. Yfaith, my Lord, they are false: Nay, Ile tickle ye for a
young Prince

Prin. Swearest thou, vngracious Boy? henceforth ne're looke on me:
thou art violently carryed away from Grace: there is a Deuill haunts
thee, in the likenesse of a fat old Man; a Tunne of Man is thy
Companion: Why do'st thou conuerse with that Trunke of Humors, that
Boulting-Hutch of Beastlinesse, that swolne Parcell of Dropsies, that
huge Bombard of Sacke, that stuft Cloakebagge of Guts, that rosted
Manning Tree Oxe with the Pudding in his Belly, that reuerend Vice,
that grey iniquitie, that Father Ruffian, that Vanitie in yeeres?
wherein is he good, but to taste Sacke, and drinke it? wherein neat and
cleanly, but to carue a Capon, and eat it? wherein Cunning, but in
Craft? wherein Craftie, but in Villanie? wherein Villanous, but in all
things? wherein worthy, but in nothing?

Falst. I would your Grace would take me with you: whom meanes your
Grace?

Prince. That villanous abhominable mis-leader of Youth, Falstaffe,
that old white-bearded Sathan

Falst. My Lord, the man I know

Prince. I know thou do'st

Falst. But to say, I know more harme in him then in my selfe, were
to say more then I know. That hee is olde (the more the pittie) his
white hayres doe witnesse it: but that hee is (sauing your reuerence) a
Whore-master, that I vtterly deny. If Sacke and Sugar bee a fault,
Heauen helpe the Wicked: if to be olde and merry, be a sinne, then many
an olde Hoste that I know, is damn'd: if to be fat, be to be hated,
then Pharaohs leane Kine are to be loued. No, my good Lord, banish
Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poines: but for sweete Iacke Falstaffe,
kinde Iacke Falstaffe, true Iacke Falstaffe, valiant Iacke Falstaffe,
and therefore more valiant, being as hee is olde Iack Falstaffe, banish
not him thy Harryes companie, banish not him thy Harryes companie;
banish plumpe Iacke, and banish all the World

Prince. I doe, I will.

Enter Bardolph running.

Bard. O, my Lord, my Lord, the Sherife, with a most monstrous Watch,
is at the doore

Falst. Out you Rogue, play out the Play: I haue much to say in the
behalfe of that Falstaffe.

Enter the Hostesse.

Hostesse. O, my Lord, my Lord

Falst. Heigh, heigh, the Deuill rides vpon a Fiddlesticke: what's
the matter?

Hostesse. The Sherife and all the Watch are at the doore: they are
come to search the House, shall I let them in?

Falst. Do'st thou heare Hal, neuer call a true peece of Gold a
Counterfeit: thou art essentially made, without seeming so

Prince. And thou a naturall Coward, without instinct

Falst. I deny your Maior: if you will deny the Sherife, so: if not,
let him enter. If I become not a Cart as well as another man, a plague
on my bringing vp: I hope I shall as soone be strangled with a Halter,
as another

Prince. Goe hide thee behinde the Arras, the rest walke vp aboue.
Now my Masters, for a true Face and good Conscience

Falst. Both which I haue had: but their date is out, and therefore
Ile hide me.

Enter.

Prince. Call in the Sherife.

Enter Sherife and the Carrier.

Prince. Now Master Sherife, what is your will with mee?

She. First pardon me, my Lord. A Hue and Cry hath followed certaine
men vnto this house

Prince. What men?

She. One of them is well knowne, my gracious Lord, a grosse fat man

Car. As fat as Butter

Prince. The man, I doe assure you, is not heere, For I my selfe at
this time haue imploy'd him: And Sherife, I will engage my word to
thee, That I will by to morrow Dinner time,

Send him to answere thee, or any man,

For any thing he shall be charg'd withall: And so let me entreat you,
leaue the house

She. I will, my Lord: there are two Gentlemen Haue in this Robberie
lost three hundred Markes

Prince. It may be so: if he haue robb'd these men, He shall be
answerable: and so farewell

She. Good Night, my Noble Lord

Prince. I thinke it is good Morrow, is it not?   She. Indeede, my
Lord, I thinke it be two a Clocke. Enter.

Prince. This oyly Rascall is knowne as well as Poules: goe call him
forth

Peto. Falstaffe? fast asleepe behinde the Arras, and snorting like a
Horse

Prince. Harke, how hard he fetches breath: search his Pockets.

He searcheth his Pockets, and findeth certaine Papers.

Prince. What hast thou found?

Peto. Nothing but Papers, my Lord

Prince. Let's see, what be they? reade them

Peto. Item, a Capon. ii.s.ii.d.

Item, Sawce iiii.d.

Item, Sacke, two Gallons. v.s.viii.d.

Item, Anchoues and Sacke after Supper. ii.s.vi.d. Item, Bread. ob

Prince. O monstrous, but one halfe penny-worth of Bread to this
intollerable deale of Sacke? What there is else, keepe close, wee'le
reade it at more aduantage: there let him sleepe till day. Ile to the
Court in the Morning: Wee must all to the Warres, and thy place shall
be honorable. Ile procure this fat Rogue a Charge of Foot, and I know
his death will be a Match of Twelue-score. The Money shall be pay'd
backe againe with aduantage. Be with me betimes in the Morning: and so
good morrow Peto

Peto. Good morrow, good my Lord.

Exeunt.



Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Hotspurre, Worcester, Lord Mortimer, Owen Glendower.

Mort. These promises are faire, the parties sure, And our induction
full of prosperous hope

Hotsp. Lord Mortimer, and Cousin Glendower, Will you sit downe?

And Vnckle Worcester; a plague vpon it,

I haue forgot the Mappe

Glend. No, here it is:

Sit Cousin Percy, sit good Cousin Hotspurre: For by that Name, as oft
as Lancaster doth speake of you, His Cheekes looke pale, and with a
rising sigh, He wisheth you in Heauen

Hotsp. And you in Hell, as oft as he heares Owen Glendower spoke of

Glend. I cannot blame him: At my Natiuitie, The front of Heauen was
full of fierie shapes, Of burning Cressets: and at my Birth,

The frame and foundation of the Earth

Shak'd like a Coward

Hotsp. Why so it would haue done at the same season, if your Mothers
Cat had but kitten'd, though your selfe had neuer beene borne

Glend. I say the Earth did shake when I was borne

Hotsp. And I say the Earth was not of my minde, If you suppose, as
fearing you, it shooke

Glend. The heauens were all on fire, the Earth did tremble

Hotsp. Oh, then the Earth shooke

To see the Heauens on fire,

And not in feare of your Natiuitie.

Diseased Nature oftentimes breakes forth

In strange eruptions; and the teeming Earth Is with a kinde of Collick
pincht and vext, By the imprisoning of vnruly Winde

Within her Wombe: which for enlargement striuing, Shakes the old
Beldame Earth, and tombles downe Steeples, and mosse-growne Towers. At
your Birth, Our Grandam Earth, hauing this distemperature, In passion
shooke

Glend. Cousin: of many men

I doe not beare these Crossings: Giue me leaue To tell you once againe,
that at my Birth The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes, The
Goates ranne from the Mountaines, and the Heards Were strangely
clamorous to the frighted fields: These signes haue markt me
extraordinarie, And all the courses of my Life doe shew,

I am not in the Roll of common men.

Where is the Liuing, clipt in with the Sea, That chides the Bankes of
England, Scotland, and Wales, Which calls me Pupill, or hath read to
me? And bring him out, that is but Womans Sonne, Can trace me in the
tedious wayes of Art, And hold me pace in deepe experiments

Hotsp. I thinke there's no man speakes better Welsh: Ile to Dinner

Mort. Peace cousin Percy, you will make him mad

Glend. I can call Spirits from the vastie Deepe

Hotsp. Why so can I, or so can any man: But will they come, when you
doe call for them?   Glend. Why, I can teach thee, Cousin, to command
the Deuill

Hotsp. And I can teach thee, Cousin, to shame the Deuil, By telling
truth. Tell truth, and shame the Deuill. If thou haue power to rayse
him, bring him hither, And Ile be sworne, I haue power to shame him
hence. Oh, while you liue, tell truth, and shame the Deuill

Mort. Come, come, no more of this vnprofitable Chat

Glend. Three times hath Henry Bullingbrooke made head Against my
Power: thrice from the Banks of Wye, And sandy-bottom'd Seuerne, haue I
hent him Bootlesse home, and Weather-beaten backe

Hotsp. Home without Bootes,

And in foule Weather too,

How scapes he Agues in the Deuils name?

Glend. Come, heere's the Mappe:

Shall wee diuide our Right,

According to our three-fold order ta'ne?

Mort. The Arch-Deacon hath diuided it

Into three Limits, very equally:

England, from Trent, and Seuerne. hitherto, By South and East, is to my
part assign'd: All Westward, Wales, beyond the Seuerne shore, And all
the fertile Land within that bound, To Owen Glendower: And deare Couze,
to you The remnant Northward, lying off from Trent. And our Indentures
Tripartite are drawne: Which being sealed enterchangeably,

(A Businesse that this Night may execute) To morrow, Cousin Percy, you
and I,

And my good Lord of Worcester, will set forth, To meete your Father,
and the Scottish Power, As is appointed vs at Shrewsbury.

My Father Glendower is not readie yet,

Nor shall wee neede his helpe these foureteene dayes: Within that
space, you may haue drawne together Your Tenants, Friends, and
neighbouring Gentlemen

Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, Lords: And in my Conduct
shall your Ladies come, From whom you now must steale, and take no
leaue, For there will be a World of Water shed,

Vpon the parting of your Wiues and you

Hotsp. Me thinks my Moity, North from Burton here, In quantitie
equals not one of yours:

See, how this Riuer comes me cranking in, And cuts me from the best of
all my Land, A huge halfe Moone, a monstrous Cantle out. Ile haue the
Currant in this place damn'd vp, And here the smug and Siluer Trent
shall runne, In a new Channell, faire and euenly:

It shall not winde with such a deepe indent, To rob me of so rich a
Bottome here

Glend. Not winde? it shall, it must, you see it doth

Mort. Yea, but marke how he beares his course, And runnes me vp,
with like aduantage on the other side, Gelding the opposed Continent as
much,

As on the other side it takes from you

Worc. Yea, but a little Charge will trench him here, And on this
North side winne this Cape of Land, And then he runnes straight and
euen

Hotsp. Ile haue it so, a little Charge will doe it

Glend. Ile not haue it alter'd

Hotsp. Will not you?

Glend. No, nor you shall not

Hotsp. Who shall say me nay?

Glend. Why, that will I

Hotsp. let me not vnderstand you then, speake it in Welsh

Glend. I can speake English, Lord, as well as you: For I was trayn'd
vp in the English Court; Where, being but young, I framed to the Harpe
Many an English Dittie, louely well,

And gaue the Tongue a helpefull Ornament; A Vertue that was neuer seene
in you

Hotsp. Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart, I had rather be
a Kitten, and cry mew,

Then one of these same Meeter Ballad-mongers: I had rather heare a
Brazen Candlestick turn'd, Or a dry Wheele grate on the Axle-tree,

And that would set my teeth nothing an edge, Nothing so much, as
mincing Poetrie;

'Tis like the forc't gate of a shuffling Nagge

Glend. Come, you shall haue Trent turn'd

Hotsp. I doe not care: Ile giue thrice so much Land To any
well-deseruing friend;

But in the way of Bargaine, marke ye me,

Ile cauill on the ninth part of a hayre.

Are the Indentures drawne? shall we be gone?   Glend. The Moone shines
faire,

You may away by Night:

Ile haste the Writer; and withall,

Breake with your Wiues, of your departure hence: I am afraid my
Daughter will runne madde, So much she doteth on her Mortimer.

Enter.

Mort. Fie, Cousin Percy, how you crosse my Father

Hotsp. I cannot chuse: sometime he angers me, With telling me of the
Moldwarpe and the Ant, Of the Dreamer Merlin, and his Prophecies; And
of a Dragon, and a finne-lesse Fish,

A clip-wing'd Griffin, and a moulten Rauen, A couching Lyon, and a
ramping Cat,

And such a deale of skimble-skamble Stuffe, As puts me from my Faith. I
tell you what, He held me last Night, at least, nine howres, In
reckning vp the seuerall Deuils Names, That were his Lacqueyes:

I cry'd hum, and well, goe too,

But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious As a tyred Horse, a
rayling Wife,

Worse then a smoakie House. I had rather liue With Cheese and Garlick
in a Windmill farre, Then feede on Cates, and haue him talke to me, In
any Summer-House in Christendome

Mort. In faith he was a worthy Gentleman, Exceeding well read, and
profited,

In strange Concealements:

Valiant as a Lyon, and wondrous affable,

And as Bountifull, as Mynes of India.

Shall I tell you, Cousin,

He holds your temper in a high respect,

And curbes himselfe, euen of his naturall scope, When you doe crosse
his humor: 'faith he does. I warrant you, that man is not aliue,

Might so haue tempted him, as you haue done, Without the taste of
danger, and reproofe: But doe not vse it oft, let me entreat you

Worc. In faith, my Lord, you are too wilfull blame, And since your
comming hither, haue done enough, To put him quite besides his
patience.

You must needes learne, Lord, to amend this fault: Though sometimes it
shew Greatnesse, Courage, Blood, And that's the dearest grace it
renders you; Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh Rage, Defect of
Manners, want of Gouernment,

Pride, Haughtinesse, Opinion, and Disdaine: The least of which,
haunting a Nobleman,

Loseth mens hearts, and leaues behinde a stayne Vpon the beautie of all
parts besides,

Beguiling them of commendation

Hotsp. Well, I am school'd:

Good-manners be your speede;

Heere come your Wiues, and let vs take our leaue. Enter Glendower, with
the Ladies.

Mort. This is the deadly spight, that angers me, My Wife can speake
no English, I no Welsh

Glend. My Daughter weepes, shee'le not part with you, Shee'le be a
Souldier too, shee'le to the Warres

Mort. Good Father tell her, that she and my Aunt Percy Shall follow
in your Conduct speedily.

Glendower speakes to her in Welsh, and she answeres him in the same.

Glend. Shee is desperate heere:

A peeuish selfe-will'd Harlotry,

One that no perswasion can doe good vpon.

The Lady speakes in Welsh.

Mort. I vnderstand thy Lookes: that pretty Welsh Which thou powr'st
down from these swelling Heauens, I am too perfect in: and but for
shame,

In such a parley should I answere thee.

The Lady againe in welsh.

Mort. I vnderstand thy Kisses, and thou mine, And that's a feeling
disputation:

But I will neuer be a Truant, Loue,

Till I haue learn'd thy Language: for thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet
as Ditties highly penn'd, Sung by a faire Queene in a Summers Bowre,
With rauishing Diuision to her Lute

Glend. Nay, if thou melt, then will she runne madde.

The Lady speakes againe in Welsh.

Mort. O, I am Ignorance it selfe in this

Glend. She bids you,

On the wanton Rushes lay you downe,

And rest your gentle Head vpon her Lappe, And she will sing the Song
that pleaseth you, And on your Eye-lids Crowne the God of Sleepe,
Charming your blood with pleasing heauinesse; Making such difference
betwixt Wake and Sleepe, As is the difference betwixt Day and Night,
The houre before the Heauenly Harneis'd Teeme Begins his Golden
Progresse in the East

Mort. With all my heart Ile sit, and heare her sing: By that time
will our Booke, I thinke, be drawne

Glend. Doe so:

And those Musitians that shall play to you, Hang in the Ayre a thousand
Leagues from thence; And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend

Hotsp. Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying downe: Come, quicke,
quicke, that I may lay my Head in thy Lappe

Lady. Goe, ye giddy-Goose.

The Musicke playes.

Hotsp. Now I perceiue the Deuill vnderstands Welsh, And 'tis no
maruell he is so humorous:

Byrlady hee's a good Musitian

Lady. Then would you be nothing but Musicall, For you are altogether
gouerned by humors: Lye still ye Theefe, and heare the Lady sing in
Welsh

Hotsp. I had rather heare (Lady) my Brach howle in Irish

Lady. Would'st haue thy Head broken?

Hotsp. No

Lady. Then be still

Hotsp. Neyther, 'tis a Womans fault

Lady. Now God helpe thee

Hotsp. To the Welsh Ladies Bed

Lady. What's that?

Hotsp. Peace, shee sings.

Heere the Lady sings a Welsh Song.

Hotsp. Come, Ile haue your Song too

Lady. Not mine, in good sooth

Hotsp. Not yours, in good sooth?

You sweare like a Comfit-makers Wife:

Not you, in good sooth; and, as true as I liue; And, as God shall mend
me; and, as sure as day: And giuest such Sarcenet suretie for thy
Oathes, As if thou neuer walk'st further then Finsbury. Sweare me,
Kate, like a Lady, as thou art, A good mouth-filling Oath: and leaue in
sooth, And such protest of Pepper Ginger-bread,

To Veluet-Guards, and Sunday-Citizens.

Come, sing

Lady. I will not sing

Hotsp. 'Tis the next way to turne Taylor, or be Redbrest teacher:
and the Indentures be drawne, Ile away within these two howres: and so
come in, when yee will.

Enter.

Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow, As hot Lord Percy
is on fire to goe.

By this our Booke is drawne: wee'le but seale, And then to Horse
immediately

Mort. With all my heart.

Exeunt.



Scaena Secunda.

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others.

King. Lords, giue vs leaue:

The Prince of Wales, and I,

Must haue some priuate conference:

But be neere at hand,

For wee shall presently haue neede of you.

Exeunt. Lords.

I know not whether Heauen will haue it so, For some displeasing seruice
I haue done; That in his secret Doome, out of my Blood, Hee'le breede
Reuengement, and a Scourge for me: But thou do'st in thy passages of
Life,

Make me beleeue, that thou art onely mark'd For the hot vengeance, and
the Rod of heauen To punish my Mistreadings. Tell me else,

Could such inordinate and low desires,

Such poore, such bare, such lewd, such meane attempts, Such barren
pleasures, rude societie,

As thou art matcht withall, and grafted too, Accompanie the greatnesse
of thy blood,

And hold their leuell with thy Princely heart?   Prince. So please your
Maiesty, I would I could Quit all offences with as cleare excuse,

As well as I am doubtlesse I can purge

My selfe of many I am charg'd withall:

Yet such extenuation let me begge,

As in reproofe of many Tales deuis'd,

Which oft the Eare of Greatnesse needes must heare, By smiling
Pick-thankes, and base Newes-mongers; I may for some things true,
wherein my youth Hath faultie wandred, and irregular,

Finde pardon on my true submission

King. Heauen pardon thee:

Yet let me wonder, Harry,

At thy affections, which doe hold a Wing

Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. Thy place in Councell thou
hast rudely lost, Which by thy younger Brother is supply'de; And art
almost an alien to the hearts

Of all the Court and Princes of my blood. The hope and expectation of
thy time

Is ruin'd, and the Soule of euery man

Prophetically doe fore-thinke thy fall.

Had I so lauish of my presence beene,

So common hackney'd in the eyes of men,

So stale and cheape to vulgar Company;

Opinion, that did helpe me to the Crowne, Had still kept loyall to
possession,

And left me in reputelesse banishment,

A fellow of no marke, nor likelyhood.

By being seldome seene, I could not stirre, But like a Comet, I was
wondred at,

That men would tell their Children, This is hee: Others would say;
Where, Which is Bullingbrooke. And then I stole all Courtesie from
Heauen, And drest my selfe in such Humilitie,

That I did plucke Allegeance from mens hearts, Lowd Showts and
Salutations from their mouthes, Euen in the presence of the Crowned
King. Thus I did keepe my Person fresh and new, My Presence like a Robe
Pontificall,

Ne're seene, but wondred at: and so my State, Seldome but sumptuous,
shewed like a Feast, And wonne by rarenesse such Solemnitie.

The skipping King hee ambled vp and downe, With shallow Iesters, and
rash Bauin Wits, Soone kindled, and soone burnt, carded his state,
Mingled his Royaltie with Carping Fooles, Had his great Name prophaned
with their Scornes, And gaue his Countenance, against his Name, To
laugh at gybing Boyes, and stand the push Of euery Beardlesse vaine
Comparatiue;

Grew a Companion to the common Streetes,

Enfeoff'd himselfe to Popularitie:

That being dayly swallowed by mens Eyes,

They surfeted with Honey, and began to loathe The taste of Sweetnesse,
whereof a little More then a little, is by much too much.

So when he had occasion to be seene,

He was but as the Cuckow is in Iune,

Heard, not regarded: seene but with such Eyes, As sicke and blunted
with Communitie,

Affoord no extraordinarie Gaze,

Such as is bent on Sunne-like Maiestie,

When it shines seldome in admiring Eyes:

But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids downe, Slept in his Face,
and rendred such aspect As Cloudie men vse to doe to their aduersaries,
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full. And in that very
Line, Harry, standest thou: For thou hast lost thy Princely Priuiledge,
With vile participation. Not an Eye

But is awearie of thy common sight,

Saue mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more: Which now doth that I
would not haue it doe, Make blinde it selfe with foolish tendernesse

Prince. I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious Lord, Be more my
selfe

King. For all the World,

As thou art to this houre, was Richard then, When I from France set
foot at Rauenspurgh; And euen as I was then, is Percy now:

Now by my Scepter, and my Soule to boot,

He hath more worthy interest to the State Then thou, the shadow of
Succession;

For of no Right, nor colour like to Right. He doth fill fields with
Harneis in the Realme, Turnes head against the Lyons armed Iawes; And
being no more in debt to yeeres, then thou, Leades ancient Lords, and
reuerent Bishops on To bloody Battailes, and to brusing Armes. What
neuer-dying Honor hath he got,

Against renowned Dowglas? whose high Deedes, Whose hot Incursions, and
great Name in Armes, Holds from all Souldiers chiefe Maioritie, And
Militarie Title Capitall.

Through all the Kingdomes that acknowledge Christ, Thrice hath the
Hotspur Mars, in swathing Clothes, This Infant Warrior, in his
Enterprises,

Discomfited great Dowglas, ta'ne him once, Enlarged him, and made a
friend of him,

To fill the mouth of deepe Defiance vp,

And shake the peace and safetie of our Throne. And what say you to
this? Percy, Northumberland, The Arch-bishops Grace of Yorke, Dowglas,
Mortimer, Capitulate against vs, and are vp.

But wherefore doe I tell these Newes to thee? Why, Harry, doe I tell
thee of my Foes,

Which art my neer'st and dearest Enemie?

Thou, that art like enough, through vassall Feare, Base Inclination,
and the start of Spleene, To fight against me vnder Percies pay,

To dogge his heeles, and curtsie at his frownes, To shew how much thou
art degenerate

Prince. Doe not thinke so, you shall not finde it so: And Heauen
forgiue them, that so much haue sway'd Your Maiesties good thoughts
away from me: I will redeeme all this on Percies head,

And in the closing of some glorious day,

Be bold to tell you, that I am your Sonne, When I will weare a Garment
all of Blood, And staine my fauours in a bloody Maske:

Which washt away, shall scowre my shame with it. And that shall be the
day, when ere it lights, That this same Child of Honor and Renowne.
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praysed Knight. And your vnthought-of
Harry chance to meet: For euery Honor sitting on his Helme,

Would they were multitudes, and on my head My shames redoubled. For the
time will come, That I shall make this Northerne Youth exchange His
glorious Deedes for my Indignities:

Percy is but my Factor, good my Lord,

To engrosse vp glorious Deedes on my behalfe: And I will call him to so
strict account, That he shall render euery Glory vp,

Yea, euen the sleightest worship of his time, Or I will teare the
Reckoning from his Heart. This, in the Name of Heauen, I promise here:
The which, if I performe, and doe suruiue, I doe beseech your Maiestie,
may salue

The long-growne Wounds of my intemperature: If not, the end of Life
cancells all Bands, And I will dye a hundred thousand Deaths, Ere
breake the smallest parcell of this Vow

King. A hundred thousand Rebels dye in this: Thou shalt haue Charge,
and soueraigne trust herein. Enter Blunt.

How now good Blunt? thy Lookes are full of speed

Blunt. So hath the Businesse that I come to speake of. Lord Mortimer
of Scotland hath sent word, That Dowglas and the English Rebels met

The eleuenth of this moneth, at Shrewsbury: A mightie and a fearefull
Head they are,

(If Promises be kept on euery hand)

As euer offered foule play in a State

King. The earle of Westmerland set forth to day: With him my sonne,
Lord Iohn of Lancaster, For this aduertisement is fiue dayes old. On
Wednesday next, Harry thou shalt set forward: On thursday, wee our
selues will march.

Our meeting is Bridgenorth: and Harry, you shall march Through
Glocestershire: by which account, Our Businesse valued some twelue
dayes hence, Our generall Forces at Bridgenorth shall meete. Our Hands
are full of Businesse: let's away, Aduantage feedes him fat, while men
delay.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.

Falst. Bardolph, am I not falne away vilely, since this last action?
doe I not bate? doe I not dwindle? Why my skinne hangs about me like an
olde Ladies loose Gowne: I am withered like an olde Apple Iohn. Well,
Ile repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking: I shall be
out of heart shortly, and then I shall haue no strength to repent. And
i haue not forgotten what the in-side of a Church is made of, I am a
Pepper-Corne, a Brewers Horse, the in-side of a Church. Company,
villanous Company hath beene the spoyle of me

Bard. Sir Iohn, you are so fretfull, you cannot liue long

Falst. Why there is it: Come, sing me a bawdy Song, make me merry; I
was as vertuously giuen, as a Gentleman need to be; vertuous enough,
swore little, dic'd not aboue seuen times a weeke, went to a
Bawdy-house not aboue once in a quarter of an houre, payd Money that I
borrowed, three or foure times; liued well, and in good compasse: and
now I liue out of all order, out of compasse

Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir Iohn, that you must needes bee out of
of all compasse; out all reasonable compasse, Sir Iohn

Falst. Doe thou amend thy Face, and Ile amend thy Life: Thou art our
Admirall, thou bearest the Lanterne in the Poope, but 'tis in the Nose
of thee; thou art the Knight of the burning Lampe

Bard. Why, Sir Iohn, my Face does you no harme

Falst. No, Ile be sworne: I make as good vse of it, as many a man
doth of a Deaths-Head, or a Memento Mori. I neuer see thy Face, but I
thinke vpon Hell fire, and Diues that liued in Purple; for there he is
in his Robes burning, burning. If thou wert any way giuen to vertue, I
would sweare by thy Face; my Oath should bee, By this Fire: But thou
art altogether giuen ouer; and wert indeede, but for the Light in thy
Face, the Sunne of vtter Darkenesse. When thou ran'st vp Gads-Hill in
the Night, to catch my Horse, if I did not thinke that thou hadst beene
an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there's no Purchase in Money.
O, thou art a perpetuall Triumph, an euerlasting Bone-fire-Light: thou
hast saued me a thousand Markes in Linkes and Torches, walking with
thee in the Night betwixt Tauerne and Tauerne: But the Sack that thou
hast drunke me, would haue bought me Lights as good cheape, as the
dearest Chandlers in Europe. I haue maintain'd that Salamander of yours
with fire, any time this two and thirtie yeeres, Heauen reward me for
it

Bard. I would my Face were in your Belly

Falst. So should I be sure to be heart-burn'd. Enter Hostesse.

How now, Dame Partlet the Hen, haue you enquir'd yet who pick'd my
Pocket?

Hostesse. Why Sir Iohn, what doe you thinke, Sir Iohn? doe you thinke
I keepe Theeues in my House? I haue search'd, I haue enquired, so haz
my Husband, Man by Man, Boy by Boy, Seruant by Seruant: the tight of a
hayre was neuer lost in my house before

Falst. Ye lye Hostesse: Bardolph was shau'd, and lost many a hayre;
and Ile be sworne my Pocket was pick'd: goe to, you are a Woman, goe

Hostesse. Who I? I defie thee: I was neuer call'd so in mine owne
house before

Falst. Goe to, I know you well enough

Hostesse. No, sir Iohn, you doe not know me, Sir Iohn: I know you,
Sir Iohn: you owe me Money, Sir Iohn, and now you picke a quarrell, to
beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of Shirts to your Backe

Falst. Doulas, filthy Doulas: I haue giuen them away to Bakers
Wiues, and they haue made Boulters of them

Hostesse. Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight shillings an
Ell: You owe Money here besides, Sir Iohn, for your Dyet, and
by-Drinkings, and Money lent you, foure and twentie pounds

Falst. Hee had his part of it, let him pay

Hostesse. Hee? alas hee is poore, hee hath nothing

Falst. How? Poore? Looke vpon his Face: What call you Rich? Let them
coyne his Nose, let them coyne his Cheekes, Ile not pay a Denier. What,
will you make a Younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine Inne,
but I shall haue my Pocket pick'd? I haue lost a Seale-Ring of my
Grand-fathers, worth fortie marke

Hostesse. I haue heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft, that
that Ring was Copper

Falst. How? the Prince is a Iacke, a Sneake-Cuppe: and if hee were
heere, I would cudgell him like a Dogge, if hee would say so.

Enter the Prince marching, and Falstaffe meets him, playing on his
Trunchion like a Fife.

Falst. How now Lad? is the Winde in that Doore? Must we all march?

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion

Hostesse. My Lord, I pray you heare me

Prince. What say'st thou, Mistresse Quickly? How does thy Husband? I
loue him well, hee is an honest man

Hostesse. Good, my Lord, heare mee

Falst. Prethee let her alone, and list to mee

Prince. What say'st thou, Iacke?

Falst. The other Night I fell asleepe heere behind the Arras, and had
my Pocket pickt: this House is turn'd Bawdy-house, they picke Pockets

Prince. What didst thou lose, Iacke?

Falst. Wilt thou beleeue me, Hal? Three or foure Bonds of fortie
pound apeece, and a Seale-Ring of my Grand-fathers

Prince. A Trifle, some eight-penny matter

Host. So I told him, my Lord; and I said, I heard your Grace say so:
and (my Lord) hee speakes most vilely of you, like a foule-mouth'd man
as hee is, and said, hee would cudgell you

Prince. What hee did not?

Host. There's neyther Faith, Truth, nor Woman-hood in me else

Falst. There's no more faith in thee then a stu'de Prune; nor no
more truth in thee, then in a drawne Fox: and for Wooman-hood,
Maid-marian may be the Deputies wife of the Ward to thee. Go you
nothing: go

Host. Say, what thing? what thing?

Falst. What thing? why a thing to thanke heauen on

Host. I am no thing to thanke heauen on, I wold thou shouldst know
it: I am an honest mans wife: and setting thy Knighthood aside, thou
art a knaue to call me so

Falst. Setting thy woman-hood aside, thou art a beast to say
otherwise

Host. Say, what beast, thou knaue thou?   Fal. What beast? Why an
Otter

Prin. An Otter, sir Iohn? Why an Otter?   Fal. Why? She's neither
fish nor flesh; a man knowes not where to haue her

Host. Thou art vniust man in saying so; thou, or anie man knowes
where to haue me, thou knaue thou

Prince. Thou say'st true Hostesse, and he slanders thee most
grossely

Host. So he doth you, my Lord, and sayde this other day, You ought
him a thousand pound

Prince. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?   Falst. A thousand
pound Hal? A Million. Thy loue is worth a Million: thou ow'st me thy
loue

Host. Nay my Lord, he call'd you Iacke, and said hee would cudgell
you

Fal. Did I, Bardolph?

Bar. Indeed Sir Iohn, you said so

Fal. Yea, if he said my Ring was Copper

Prince. I say 'tis Copper. Dar'st thou bee as good as thy word now?

Fal. Why Hal? thou know'st, as thou art but a man, I dare: but, as
thou art a Prince, I feare thee, as I feare the roaring of the Lyons
Whelpe

Prince. And why not as the Lyon?

Fal. The King himselfe is to bee feared as the Lyon: Do'st thou
thinke Ile feare thee, as I feare thy Father? nay if I do, let my
Girdle breake

Prin. O, if it should, how would thy guttes fall about thy knees.
But sirra: There's no roome for Faith, Truth, nor Honesty, in this
bosome of thine: it is all fill'd vppe with Guttes and Midriffe. Charge
an honest Woman with picking thy pocket? Why thou horson impudent
imbost Rascall, if there were any thing in thy Pocket but Tauerne
Recknings, Memorandums of Bawdie-houses, and one poore peny-worth of
Sugar-candie to make thee long-winded: if thy pocket were enrich'd with
anie other iniuries but these, I am a Villaine: And yet you will stand
to it, you will not Pocket vp wrong. Art thou not asham'd?

Fal. Do'st thou heare Hal? Thou know'st in the state of Innocency,
Adam fell: and what should poore Iacke Falstaffe do, in the dayes of
Villany? Thou seest, I haue more flesh then another man, and therefore
more frailty. You confesse then you pickt my Pocket?

Prin. It appeares so by the Story

Fal. Hostesse, I forgiue thee:

Go make ready Breakfast, loue thy Husband, Looke to thy Seruants, and
cherish thy Guests: Thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason:
Thou seest, I am pacified still.

Nay, I prethee be gone.

Exit Hostesse.

Now Hal, to the newes at Court for the Robbery, Lad? How is that
answered?

Prin. O my sweet Beefe:

I must still be good Angell to thee.

The Monie is paid backe againe

Fal. O, I do not like that paying backe, 'tis a double Labour

Prin. I am good Friends with my Father, and may do anything

Fal. Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou do'st, and do it with
vnwash'd hands too

Bard. Do my Lord

Prin. I haue procured thee Iacke, A Charge of Foot

Fal. I would it had beene of Horse. Where shal I finde one that can
steale well? O, for a fine theefe of two and twentie, or thereabout: I
am heynously vnprouided. Wel God be thanked for these Rebels, they
offend none but the Vertuous. I laud them, I praise them

Prin. Bardolph

Bar. My Lord

Prin. Go beare this Letter to Lord Iohn of Lancaster To my Brother
Iohn. This to my Lord of Westmerland, Go Peto, to horse: for thou, and
I,

Haue thirtie miles to ride yet ere dinner time. Iacke, meet me tomorrow
in the Temple Hall At two a clocke in the afternoone,

There shalt thou know thy Charge, and there receiue Money and Order for
their Furniture.

The Land is burning, Percie stands on hye, And either they, or we must
lower lye

Fal. Rare words! braue world.

Hostesse, my breakfast, come:

Oh, I could wish this Tauerne were my drumme.

Exeunt. omnes.



Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Harrie Hotspurre, Worcester, and Dowglas.

Hot. Well said, my Noble Scot, if speaking truth In this fine Age,
were not thought flatterie, Such attribution should the Dowglas haue,
As not a Souldiour of this seasons stampe, Should go so generall
currant through the world. By heauen I cannot flatter: I defie

The Tongues of Soothers. But a Brauer place In my hearts loue, hath no
man then your Selfe. Nay, taske me to my word: approue me Lord

Dow. Thou art the King of Honor:

No man so potent breathes vpon the ground, But I will Beard him.

Enter a Messenger.

Hot. Do so, and 'tis well. What letters hast there? I can but thanke
you

Mess. These Letters come from your Father

Hot. Letters from him?

Why comes he not himselfe?

Mes. He cannot come, my Lord,

He is greeuous sicke

Hot. How? haz he the leysure to be sicke now, In such a iustling
time? Who leades his power? Vnder whose Gouernment come they along?

Mess. His Letters beares his minde, not I his minde

Wor. I prethee tell me, doth he keepe his Bed?   Mess. He did, my
Lord, foure dayes ere I set forth: And at the time of my departure
thence,

He was much fear'd by his Physician

Wor. I would the state of time had first beene whole, Ere he by
sicknesse had beene visited:

His health was neuer better worth then now

Hotsp. Sicke now? droope now? this sicknes doth infect The very
Life-blood of our Enterprise,

'Tis catching hither, euen to our Campe.

He writes me here, that inward sicknesse, And that his friends by
deputation

Could not so soone be drawne: nor did he thinke it meet, To lay so
dangerous and deare a trust

On any Soule remou'd, but on his owne.

Yet doth he giue vs bold aduertisement,

That with our small coniunction we should on, To see how Fortune is
dispos'd to vs:

For, as he writes, there is no quailing now, Because the King is
certainely possest

Of all our purposes. What say you to it?

Wor. Your Fathers sicknesse is a mayme to vs

Hotsp. A perillous Gash, a very Limme lopt off: And yet, in faith,
it is not his present want Seemes more then we shall finde it.

Were it good, to set the exact wealth of all our states All at one
Cast? To set so rich a mayne

On the nice hazard of one doubtfull houre, It were not good: for
therein should we reade The very Bottome, and the Soule of Hope,

The very List, the very vtmost Bound

Of all our fortunes

Dowg. Faith, and so wee should,

Where now remaines a sweet reuersion.

We may boldly spend, vpon the hope

Of what is to come in:

A comfort of retyrement liues in this

Hotsp. A Randeuous, a Home to flye vnto, If that the Deuill and
Mischance looke bigge Vpon the Maydenhead of our Affaires

Wor. But yet I would your Father had beene here: The qualitie and
Heire of our Attempt

Brookes no diuision: It will be thought

By some, that know not why he is away,

That wisedome, loyaltie, and meere dislike Of our proceedings, kept the
Earle from hence. And thinke, how such an apprehension

May turne the tyde of fearefull Faction,

And breede a kinde of question in our cause: For well you know, wee of
the offring side, Must keepe aloofe from strict arbitrement, And stop
all sight-holes, euery loope, from whence The eye of reason may prie in
vpon vs:

This absence of your Father drawes a Curtaine, That shewes the ignorant
a kinde of feare, Before not dreamt of

Hotsp. You strayne too farre.

I rather of his absence make this vse:

It lends a Lustre, and more great Opinion, A larger Dare to your great
Enterprize,

Then if the Earle were here: for men must thinke, If we without his
helpe, can make a Head

To push against the Kingdome; with his helpe, We shall o're-turne it
topsie-turuy downe: Yet all goes well, yet all our ioynts are whole

Dowg. As heart can thinke:

There is not such a word spoke of in Scotland, At this Dreame of
Feare.

Enter Sir Richard Vernon.

Hotsp. My Cousin Vernon, welcome by my Soule

Vern. Pray God my newes be worth a welcome, Lord. The Earle of
Westmerland, seuen thousand strong, Is marching hither-wards, with
Prince Iohn

Hotsp. No harme: what more?

Vern. And further, I haue learn'd,

The King himselfe in person hath set forth, Or hither-wards intended
speedily,

With strong and mightie preparation

Hotsp. He shall be welcome too.

Where is his Sonne,

The nimble-footed Mad-Cap, Prince of Wales, And his Cumrades, that daft
the World aside, And bid it passe?

Vern. All furnisht, all in Armes,

All plum'd like Estridges, that with the Winde Bayted like Eagles,
hauing lately bath'd, Glittering in Golden Coates, like Images, As full
of spirit as the Moneth of May,

And gorgeous as the Sunne at Mid-summer,

Wanton as youthfull Goates, wilde as young Bulls. I saw young Harry
with his Beuer on,

His Cushes on his thighes, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground like
feathered Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his Seat, As if an
Angell dropt downe from the Clouds, To turne and winde a fierie
Pegasus,

And witch the World with Noble Horsemanship

Hotsp. No more, no more,

Worse then the Sunne in March:

This prayse doth nourish Agues: let them come. They come like
Sacrifices in their trimme, And to the fire-ey'd Maid of smoakie Warre,
All hot, and bleeding, will wee offer them: The mayled Mars shall on
his Altar sit

Vp to the eares in blood. I am on fire,

To heare this rich reprizall is so nigh,

And yet not ours. Come, let me take my Horse, Who is to beare me like a
Thunder-bolt,

Against the bosome of the Prince of Wales. Harry to Harry, shall not
Horse to Horse

Meete, and ne're part, till one drop downe a Coarse? Oh, that Glendower
were come

Ver. There is more newes:

I learned in Worcester, as I rode along,

He cannot draw his Power this fourteene dayes

Dowg. That's the worst Tidings that I heare of yet

Wor. I by my faith, that beares a frosty sound

Hotsp. What may the Kings whole Battaile reach vnto?

Ver. To thirty thousand

Hot. Forty let it be,

My Father and Glendower being both away,

The powres of vs, may serue so great a day. Come, let vs take a muster
speedily:

Doomesday is neere; dye all, dye merrily

Dow. Talke not of dying, I am out of feare Of death, or deaths hand,
for this one halfe yeare.

Exeunt. Omnes.



Scaena Secunda.

Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.

Falst. Bardolph, get thee before to Couentry, fill me a Bottle of
Sack, our Souldiers shall march through: wee'le to Sutton-cop-hill to
Night

Bard. Will you giue me Money, Captaine?   Falst. Lay out, lay out

Bard. This Bottle makes an Angell

Falst. And if it doe, take it for thy labour: and if it make
twentie, take them all, Ile answere the Coynage. Bid my Lieutenant Peto
meete me at the Townes end

Bard. I will Captaine: farewell.

Enter.

Falst. If I be not asham'd of my Souldiers, I am a sowc't-Gurnet: I
haue mis-vs'd the Kings Presse damnably. I haue got, in exchange of a
hundred and fiftie Souldiers, three hundred and odde Pounds. I presse
me none but good House-holders, Yeomens Sonnes: enquire me out
contracted Batchelers, such as had beene ask'd twice on the Banes: such
a Commoditie of warme slaues, as had as lieue heare the Deuill, as a
Drumme; such as feare the report of a Caliuer, worse then a
struck-Foole, or a hurt wilde-Ducke. I prest me none but such Tostes
and Butter, with Hearts in their Bellyes no bigger then Pinnes heads,
and they haue bought out their seruices: And now, my whole Charge
consists of Ancients, Corporals, Lieutenants, Gentlemen of Companies,
Slaues as ragged a Lazarus in the painted Cloth, where the Gluttons
Dogges licked his Sores; and such, as indeed were neuer Souldiers, but
dis-carded vniust Seruingmen, younger Sonnes to younger Brothers,
reuolted Tapsters and Ostlers, Trade-falne, the Cankers of a calme
World, and long Peace, tenne times more dis-honorable ragged, then an
old-fac'd Ancient; and such haue I to fill vp the roomes of them that
haue bought out their seruices: that you would thinke, that I had a
hundred and fiftie totter'd Prodigalls, lately come from Swine-keeping,
from eating Draffe and Huskes. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told
me, I had vnloaded all the Gibbets, and prest the dead bodyes. No eye
hath seene such skar-Crowes: Ile not march through Couentry with them,
that's flat. Nay, and the Villaines march wide betwixt the Legges, as
if they had Gyues on; for indeede, I had the most of them out of
Prison. There's not a Shirt and a halfe in all my Company: and the
halfe Shirt is two Napkins tackt together, and throwne ouer the
shoulders like a Heralds Coat, without sleeues: and the Shirt, to say
the truth, stolne from my Host of S[aint]. Albones, or the Red-Nose
Inne-keeper of Dauintry. But that's all one, they'le finde Linnen
enough on euery Hedge.

Enter the Prince, and the Lord of Westmerland.

Prince. How now blowne Iack? how now Quilt?   Falst. What Hal? How
now mad Wag, what a Deuill do'st thou in Warwickshire? My good Lord of
Westmerland, I cry you mercy, I thought your Honour had already beene
at Shrewsbury

West. 'Faith, Sir Iohn, 'tis more then time that I were there, and
you too: but my Powers are there alreadie. The King, I can tell you,
lookes for vs all: we must away all to Night

Falst. Tut, neuer feare me, I am as vigilant as a Cat, to steale
Creame

Prince. I thinke to steale Creame indeed, for thy theft hath
alreadie made thee Butter: but tell me, Iack, whose fellowes are these
that come after?

Falst. Mine, Hal, mine

Prince. I did neuer see such pittifull Rascals

Falst. Tut, tut, good enough to tosse: foode for Powder, foode for
Powder: they'le fill a Pit, as well as better: tush man, mortall men,
mortall men

Westm. I, but Sir Iohn, me thinkes they are exceeding poore and
bare, too beggarly

Falst. Faith, for their pouertie, I know not where they had that;
and for their barenesse, I am sure they neuer learn'd that of me

Prince. No, Ile be sworne, vnlesse you call three fingers on the
Ribbes bare. But sirra, make haste, Percy is already in the field

Falst. What, is the King encamp'd?

Westm. Hee is, Sir Iohn, I feare wee shall stay too long

Falst. Well, to the latter end of a Fray, and the beginning of a
Feast, fits a dull fighter, and a keene Guest.

Exeunt.



Scoena Tertia.

Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Dowglas, and Vernon.

Hotsp. Wee'le fight with him to Night

Worc. It may not be

Dowg. You giue him then aduantage

Vern. Not a whit

Hotsp. Why say you so? lookes he not for supply?   Vern. So doe wee

Hotsp. His is certaine, ours is doubtfull

Worc. Good Cousin be aduis'd, stirre not to night

Vern. Doe not, my Lord

Dowg. You doe not counsaile well:

You speake it out of feare, and cold heart

Vern. Doe me no slander, Dowglas: by my Life, And I dare well
maintaine it with my Life, If well-respected Honor bid me on,

I hold as little counsaile with weake feare, As you, my Lord, or any
Scot that this day liues. Let it be seene to morrow in the Battell,
Which of vs feares

Dowg. Yea, or to night

Vern. Content

Hotsp. To night, say I

Vern. Come, come, it may not be.

I wonder much, being me[n] of such great leading as you are That you
fore-see not what impediments

Drag backe our expedition: certaine Horse Of my Cousin Vernons are not
yet come vp, Your Vnckle Worcesters Horse came but to day, And now
their pride and mettall is asleepe, Their courage with hard labour tame
and dull, That not a Horse is halfe the halfe of himselfe

Hotsp. So are the Horses of the Enemie In generall iourney bated,
and brought low: The better part of ours are full of rest

Worc. The number of the King exceedeth ours: For Gods sake, Cousin,
stay till all come in.

The Trumpet sounds a Parley. Enter Sir Walter Blunt.

Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the King, If you vouchsafe me
hearing, and respect

Hotsp. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt:

And would to God you were of our determination. Some of vs loue you
well: and euen those some Enuie your great deseruings, and good name,
Because you are not of our qualitie,

But stand against vs like an Enemie

Blunt. And Heauen defend, but still I should stand so, So long as
out of Limit, and true Rule,

You stand against anoynted Maiestie.

But to my Charge.

The King hath sent to know

The nature of your Griefes, and whereupon You coniure from the Brest of
Ciuill Peace, Such bold Hostilitie, teaching his dutious Land Audacious
Crueltie. If that the King

Haue any way your good Deserts forgot,

Which he confesseth to be manifold,

He bids you name your Griefes, and with all speed You shall haue your
desires, with interest; And Pardon absolute for your selfe, and these,
Herein mis-led, by your suggestion

Hotsp. The King is kinde:

And well wee know, the King

Knowes at what time to promise, when to pay. My Father, my Vnckle, and
my selfe,

Did giue him that same Royaltie he weares: And when he was not sixe and
twentie strong, Sicke in the Worlds regard, wretched, and low, A poore
vnminded Out-law, sneaking home,

My Father gaue him welcome to the shore:

And when he heard him sweare, and vow to God, He came but to be Duke of
Lancaster,

To sue his Liuerie, and begge his Peace,

With teares of Innocencie, and tearmes of Zeale; My Father, in kinde
heart and pitty mou'd, Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too. Now,
when the Lords and Barons of the Realme Perceiu'd Northumberland did
leane to him, The more and lesse came in with Cap and Knee, Met him in
Boroughs, Cities, Villages,

Attended him on Bridges, stood in Lanes,

Layd Gifts before him, proffer'd him their Oathes, Gaue him their
Heires, as Pages followed him, Euen at the heeles, in golden
multitudes. He presently, as Greatnesse knowes it selfe, Step me a
little higher then his Vow

Made to my Father, while his blood was poore, Vpon the naked shore at
Rauenspurgh:

And now (forsooth) takes on him to reforme Some certaine Edicts, and
some strait Decrees, That lay too heauie on the Common-wealth; Cryes
out vpon abuses, seemes to weepe

Ouer his Countries Wrongs: and by this Face, This seeming Brow of
Iustice, did he winne The hearts of all that hee did angle for.
Proceeded further, cut me off the Heads

Of all the Fauorites, that the absent King In deputation left behinde
him heere,

When hee was personall in the Irish Warre

Blunt. Tut, I came not to hear this

Hotsp. Then to the point.

In short time after, hee depos'd the King. Soone after that, depriu'd
him of his Life: And in the neck of that, task't the whole State. To
make that worse, suffer'd his Kinsman March, Who is, if euery Owner
were plac'd,

Indeede his King, to be engag'd in Wales, There, without Ransome, to
lye forfeited: Disgrac'd me in my happie Victories,

Sought to intrap me by intelligence,

Rated my Vnckle from the Councell-Boord,

In rage dismiss'd my Father from the Court, Broke Oath on Oath,
committed Wrong on Wrong, And in conclusion, droue vs to seeke out

This Head of safetie; and withall, to prie Into his Title: the which
wee finde

Too indirect, for long continuance

Blunt. Shall I returne this answer to the King?   Hotsp. Not so, Sir
Walter.

Wee'le with-draw a while:

Goe to the King, and let there be impawn'd Some suretie for a safe
returne againe,

And in the Morning early shall my Vnckle

Bring him our purpose: and so farewell

Blunt. I would you would accept of Grace and Loue

Hotsp. And't may be, so wee shall

Blunt. Pray Heauen you doe.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter the Arch-Bishop of Yorke, and Sir Michell.

Arch. Hie, good Sir Michell, beare this sealed Briefe With winged
haste to the Lord Marshall,

This to my Cousin Scroope, and all the rest To whom they are directed.

If you knew how much they doe import,

You would make haste

Sir Mich. My good Lord, I guesse their tenor

Arch. Like enough you doe.

To morrow, good Sir Michell, is a day,

Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men

Must bide the touch. For Sir, at Shrewsbury, As I am truly giuen to
vnderstand,

The King, with mightie and quick-raysed Power, Meetes with Lord Harry:
and I feare, Sir Michell, What with the sicknesse of Northumberland,
Whose Power was in the first proportion;

And what with Owen Glendowers absence thence, Who with them was rated
firmely too,

And comes not in, ouer-rul'd by Prophecies, I feare the Power of Percy
is too weake,

To wage an instant tryall with the King

Sir Mich. Why, my good Lord, you need not feare, There is Dowglas,
and Lord Mortimer

Arch. No, Mortimer is not there

Sir Mic. But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy, And there
is my Lord of Worcester,

And a Head of gallant Warriors,

Noble Gentlemen

Arch. And so there is, but yet the King hath Drawne The speciall
head of all the Land together: The Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of
Lancaster, The Noble Westmerland, and warlike Blunt; And many moe
Corriuals, and deare men

Of estimation, and command in Armes

Sir M. Doubt not my Lord, he shall be well oppos'd   Arch. I hope no
lesse? Yet needfull 'tis to feare, And to preuent the worst, Sir
Michell speed; For if Lord Percy thriue not, ere the King Dismisse his
power, he meanes to visit vs: For he hath heard of our Confederacie,

And, 'tis but Wisedome to make strong against him: Therefore make hast,
I must go write againe To other Friends: and so farewell, Sir Michell.

Exeunt.



Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of
Westmerland, Sir Walter Blunt, and Falstaffe.

King. How bloodily the Sunne begins to peere Aboue yon busky hill:
the day lookes pale At his distemperature

Prin. The Southerne winde

Doth play the Trumpet to his purposes,

And by his hollow whistling in the Leaues, Fortels a Tempest, and a
blust'ring day

King. Then with the losers let it sympathize, For nothing can seeme
foule to those that win.

The Trumpet sounds.

Enter Worcester.

King. How now my Lord of Worster? 'Tis not well That you and I should
meet vpon such tearmes, As now we meet. You haue deceiu'd our trust,
And made vs doffe our easie Robes of Peace, To crush our old limbes in
vngentle Steele: This is not well, my Lord, this is not well. What say
you to it? Will you againe vnknit This churlish knot of all-abhorred
Warre? And moue in the obedient Orbe againe,

Where you did giue a faire and naturall light, And be no more an
exhall'd Meteor,

A prodigie of Feare, and a Portent

Of broached Mischeefe, to the vnborne Times?   Wor. Heare me, my
Liege:

For mine owne part, I could be well content To entertaine the Lagge-end
of my life

With quiet houres: For I do protest,

I haue not sought the day of this dislike

King. You haue not sought it: how comes it then?   Fal. Rebellion
lay in his way, and he found it

Prin. Peace, Chewet, peace

Wor. It pleas'd your Maiesty, to turne your lookes Of Fauour, from
my Selfe, and all our House; And yet I must remember you my Lord,

We were the first, and dearest of your Friends: For you, my staffe of
Office did I breake In Richards time, and poasted day and night To
meete you on the way, and kisse your hand, When yet you were in place,
and in account Nothing so strong and fortunate, as I;

It was my Selfe, my Brother, and his Sonne, That brought you home, and
boldly did out-dare The danger of the time. You swore to vs,

And you did sweare that Oath at Doncaster, That you did nothing of
purpose 'gainst the State, Nor claime no further, then your new-falne
right, The seate of Gaunt, Dukedome of Lancaster, To this, we sware our
aide: But in short space, It rain'd downe Fortune showring on your
head, And such a floud of Greatnesse fell on you, What with our helpe,
what with the absent King. What with the iniuries of wanton time,

The seeming sufferances that you had borne, And the contrarious Windes
that held the King So long in the vnlucky Irish Warres,

That all in England did repute him dead:

And from this swarme of faire aduantages, You tooke occasion to be
quickly woo'd,

To gripe the generall sway into your hand, Forgot your Oath to vs at
Doncaster,

And being fed by vs, you vs'd vs so,

As that vngentle gull the Cuckowes Bird,

Vseth the Sparrow, did oppresse our Nest

Grew by our Feeding, to so great a builke, That euen our Loue durst not
come neere your sight For feare of swallowing: But with nimble wing We
were infor'd for safety sake, to flye

Out of your sight, and raise this present Head, Whereby we stand
opposed by such meanes

As you your selfe, haue forg'd against your selfe, By vnkinde vsage,
dangerous countenance,

And violation of all faith and troth

Sworne to vs in yonger enterprize

Kin. These things indeed you haue articulated, Proclaim'd at Market
Crosses, read in Churches, To face the Garment of Rebellion

With some fine colour, that may please the eye Of fickle Changelings,
and poore Discontents, Which gape, and rub the Elbow at the newes Of
hurly burly Innouation:

And neuer yet did Insurrection want

Such water-colours, to impaint his cause: Nor moody Beggars, staruing
for a time

Of pell-mell hauocke, and confusion

Prin. In both our Armies, there is many a soule Shall pay full
dearely for this encounter, If once they ioyne in triall. Tell your
Nephew, The Prince of Wales doth ioyne with all the world In praise of
Henry Percie: By my Hopes,

This present enterprize set off his head, I do not thinke a brauer
Gentleman,

More actiue, valiant, or more valiant yong, More daring, or more bold,
is now aliue,

To grace this latter Age with Noble deeds. For my part, I may speake it
to my shame, I haue a Truant beene to Chiualry,

And so I heare, he doth account me too:

Yet this before my Fathers Maiesty,

I am content that he shall take the oddes Of his great name and
estimation,

And will, to saue the blood on either side, Try fortune with him, in a
Single Fight

King. And Prince of Wales, so dare we venter thee, Albeit,
considerations infinite

Do make against it: No good Worster, no,

We loue our people well; euen those we loue That are misled vpon your
Cousins part:

And will they take the offer of our Grace: Both he, and they, and you;
yea euery man Shall be my Friend againe, and Ile be his. So tell your
Cousin, and bring me word,

What he will do. But if he will not yeeld, Rebuke and dread correction
waite on vs,

And they shall do their Office. So bee gone, We will not now be
troubled with reply,

We offer faire, take it aduisedly.

Exit Worcester.

Prin. It will not be accepted, on my life, The Dowglas and the
Hotspurre both together, Are confident against the world in Armes

King. Hence therefore, euery Leader to his charge, For on their
answer will we set on them;

And God befriend vs, as our cause is iust.

Exeunt.

Manet Prince and Falstaffe.

Fal. Hal, if thou see me downe in the battell, And bestride me, so;
'tis a point of friendship

Prin. Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that frendship Say thy
prayers, and farewell

Fal. I would it were bed time Hal, and all well

Prin. Why, thou ow'st heauen a death

Falst. 'Tis not due yet: I would bee loath to pay him before his
day. What neede I bee so forward with him, that call's not on me? Well,
'tis no matter, Honor prickes me on. But how if Honour pricke me off
when I come on? How then? Can Honour set too a legge? No: or an arme?
No: Or take away the greefe of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in
Surgerie, then? No. What is Honour A word. What is that word Honour?
Ayre: A trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that dy'de a Wednesday. Doth he
feele it? No. Doth hee heare it? No. Is it insensible then? yea, to the
dead. But wil it not liue with the liuing? No. Why? Detraction wil not
suffer it, therfore Ile none of it. Honour is a meere Scutcheon, and so
ends my Catechisme.

Enter.



Scena Secunda.



Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon.

Wor. O no, my Nephew must not know, Sir Richard, The liberall kinde
offer of the King

Ver. 'Twere best he did

Wor. Then we are all vndone.

It is not possible, it cannot be,

The King would keepe his word in louing vs, He will suspect vs still,
and finde a time To punish this offence in others faults:

Supposition, all our liues, shall be stucke full of eyes; For Treason
is but trusted like the Foxe, Who ne're so tame, so cherisht, and
lock'd vp, Will haue a wilde tricke of his Ancestors: Looke how he can,
or sad or merrily,

Interpretation will misquote our lookes,

And we shall feede like Oxen at a stall,

The better cherisht, still the nearer death. My Nephewes Trespasse may
be well forgot, It hath the excuse of youth, and heate of blood, And an
adopted name of Priuiledge,

A haire-brain'd Hotspurre, gouern'd by a Spleene: All his offences liue
vpon my head,

And on his Fathers. We did traine him on, And his corruption being tane
from vs,

We as the Spring of all, shall pay for all: Therefore good Cousin, let
not Harry know In any case, the offer of the King

Ver. Deliuer what you will, Ile say 'tis so. Heere comes your
Cosin.

Enter Hotspurre.

Hot. My Vnkle is return'd,

Deliuer vp my Lord of Westmerland.

Vnkle, what newes?

Wor. The King will bid you battell presently

Dow. Defie him by the Lord of Westmerland   Hot. Lord Dowglas: Go
you and tell him so

Dow. Marry and shall, and verie willingly.

Exit Dowglas.

Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the King

Hot. Did you begge any? God forbid

Wor. I told him gently of our greeuances, Of his Oath-breaking:
which he mended thus, By now forswearing that he is forsworne,

He cals vs Rebels, Traitors, and will scourge With haughty armes, this
hatefull name in vs. Enter Dowglas.

Dow. Arme Gentlemen, to Armes, for I haue thrown A braue defiance in
King Henries teeth:

And Westmerland that was ingag'd did beare it, Which cannot choose but
bring him quickly on

Wor. The Prince of Wales stept forth before the king, And Nephew,
challeng'd you to single fight

Hot. O, would the quarrell lay vpon our heads, And that no man might
draw short breath to day, But I and Harry Monmouth. Tell me, tell mee,
How shew'd his Talking? Seem'd it in contempt?   Ver. No, by my Soule:
I neuer in my life Did heare a Challenge vrg'd more modestly, Vnlesse a
Brother should a Brother dare

To gentle exercise, and proofe of Armes.

He gaue you all the Duties of a Man,

Trimm'd vp your praises with a Princely tongue, Spoke your deseruings
like a Chronicle,

Making you euer better then his praise,

By still dispraising praise, valew'd with you: And which became him
like a Prince indeed, He made a blushing citall of himselfe,

And chid his Trewant youth with such a Grace, As if he mastred there a
double spirit

Of teaching, and of learning instantly:

There did he pause. But let me tell the World, If he out-liue the enuie
of this day,

England did neuer owe so sweet a hope,

So much misconstrued in his Wantonnesse,

Hot. Cousin, I thinke thou art enamored On his Follies: neuer did I
heare

Of any Prince so wilde at Liberty.

But be he as he will, yet once ere night, I will imbrace him with a
Souldiers arme, That he shall shrinke vnder my curtesie.

Arme, arme with speed. And Fellow's, Soldiers, Friends, Better consider
what you haue to do,

That I that haue not well the gift of Tongue, Can lift your blood vp
with perswasion.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes. My Lord, heere are Letters for you

Hot. I cannot reade them now.

O Gentlemen, the time of life is short;

To spend that shortnesse basely, were too long. If life did ride vpon a
Dials point,

Still ending at the arriuall of an houre, And if we liue, we liue to
treade on Kings: If dye; braue death, when Princes dye with vs. Now for
our Consciences, the Armes is faire, When the intent for bearing them
is iust. Enter another Messenger.

Mes. My Lord prepare, the King comes on apace

Hot. I thanke him, that he cuts me from my tale: For I professe not
talking: Onely this,

Let each man do his best. And heere I draw a Sword, Whose worthy temper
I intend to staine

With the best blood that I can meete withall, In the aduenture of this
perillous day.

Now Esperance Percy, and set on:

Sound all the lofty Instruments of Warre, And by that Musicke, let vs
all imbrace:

For heauen to earth, some of vs neuer shall, A second time do such a
curtesie.

They embrace, the trumpets sound, the King entereth with his power,
alarum

vnto the battell. Then enter Dowglas, and Sir Walter Blunt.

Blu. What is thy name, that in battel thus y crossest me? What honor
dost thou seeke vpon my head?

Dow. Know then my name is Dowglas,

And I do haunt thee in the Battell thus,

Because some tell me, that thou art a King

Blunt. They tell thee true

Dow. The Lord of Stafford deere to day hath bought Thy likenesse:
for insted of thee King Harry, This Sword hath ended him, so shall it
thee, Vnlesse thou yeeld thee as a Prisoner

Blu. I was not borne to yeeld, thou haughty Scot, And thou shalt
finde a King that will reuenge Lords Staffords death.

Fight, Blunt is slaine, then enters Hotspur.

Hot. O Dowglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus I neuer had
triumphed o're a Scot

Dow. All's done, all's won, here breathles lies the king   Hot.
Where?

Dow. Heere

Hot. This Dowglas? No, I know this face full well: A gallant Knight
he was, his name was Blunt, Semblably furnish'd like the King himselfe

Dow. Ah foole: go with thy soule whether it goes, A borrowed Title
hast thou bought too deere. Why didst thou tell me, that thou wer't a
King?   Hot. The King hath many marching in his Coats

Dow. Now by my Sword, I will kill all his Coates, Ile murder all his
Wardrobe peece by peece, Vntill I meet the King

Hot. Vp, and away,

Our Souldiers stand full fairely for the day.

Exeunt.

Alarum, and enter Falstaffe solus.

Fal. Though I could scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot heere:
here's no scoring, but vpon the pate. Soft who are you? Sir Walter
Blunt, there's Honour for you: here's no vanity, I am as hot as molten
Lead, and as heauy too; heauen keepe Lead out of mee, I neede no more
weight then mine owne Bowelles. I haue led my rag of Muffins where they
are pepper'd: there's not three of my 150. left aliue, and they for the
Townes end, to beg during life. But who comes heere?

Enter the Prince

Pri. What, stand'st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword, Many a
Nobleman lies starke and stiffe

Vnder the hooues of vaunting enemies,

Whose deaths are vnreueng'd. Prethy lend me thy sword   Fal. O Hal, I
prethee giue me leaue to breath awhile: Turke Gregory neuer did such
deeds in Armes, as I haue done this day. I haue paid Percy, I haue made
him sure

Prin. He is indeed, and liuing to kill thee: I prethee lend me thy
sword

Falst. Nay Hal, is Percy bee aliue, thou getst not my Sword; but
take my Pistoll if thou wilt

Prin. Giue it me: What, is it in the case?   Fal. I Hal, 'tis hot:
There's that will Sacke a City.

The Prince drawes out a Bottle of Sacke.

Prin. What, is it a time to iest and dally now.

Enter.

Throwes it at him.

Fal. If Percy be aliue, Ile pierce him: if he do come in my way, so:
if he do not, if I come in his (willingly) let him make a Carbonado of
me. I like not such grinning honour as Sir Walter hath: Giue mee life,
which if I can saue, so: if not, honour comes vnlook'd for, and ther's
an end.

Exit



Scena Tertia.

Alarum, excursions, enter the King, the Prince, Lord Iohn of
Lancaster,

and Earle of Westmerland.

King. I prethee Harry withdraw thy selfe, thou bleedest too much:
Lord Iohn of Lancaster, go you with him

P.Ioh. Not I, My Lord, vnlesse I did bleed too

Prin. I beseech your Maiesty make vp,

Least your retirement do amaze your friends

King. I will do so:

My Lord of Westmerland leade him to his Tent

West. Come my Lord, Ile leade you to your Tent

Prin. Lead me my Lord? I do not need your helpe; And heauen forbid a
shallow scratch should driue The Prince of Wales from such a field as
this, Where stain'd Nobility lyes troden on,

And Rebels Armes triumph in massacres

Ioh. We breath too long: Come cosin Westmerland, Our duty this way
lies, for heauens sake come

Prin. By heauen thou hast deceiu'd me Lancaster, I did not thinke
thee Lord of such a spirit: Before, I lou'd thee as a Brother, Iohn;

But now, I do respect thee as my Soule

King. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point, With lustier
maintenance then I did looke for Of such an vngrowne Warriour

Prin. O this Boy, lends mettall to vs all. Enter.

Enter Dowglas.

Dow. Another King? They grow like Hydra's heads: I am the Dowglas,
fatall to all those

That weare those colours on them. What art thou That counterfeit'st the
person of a King?   King. The King himselfe: who Dowglas grieues at
hart So many of his shadowes thou hast met,

And not the very King. I haue two Boyes

Seeke Percy and thy selfe about the Field: But seeing thou fall'st on
me so luckily, I will assay thee: so defend thy selfe

Dow. I feare thou art another counterfeit: And yet infaith thou
bear'st thee like a King: But mine I am sure thou art, whoere thou be,
And thus I win thee.

They fight, the K[ing]. being in danger, Enter Prince.

Prin. Hold vp thy head vile Scot, or thou art like Neuer to hold it
vp againe: the Spirits

Of valiant Sherly, Stafford, Blunt, are in my Armes; it is the Prince
of Wales that threatens thee, Who neuer promiseth, but he meanes to
pay.

They Fight, Dowglas flyeth.

Cheerely My Lord: how fare's your Grace?

Sir Nicolas Gawsey hath for succour sent, And so hath Clifton: Ile to
Clifton straight

King. Stay, and breath awhile.

Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion,

And shew'd thou mak'st some tender of my life In this faire rescue thou
hast brought to mee

Prin. O heauen, they did me too much iniury, That euer said I
hearkned to your death.

If it were so, I might haue let alone

The insulting hand of Dowglas ouer you,

Which would haue bene as speedy in your end, As all the poysonous
Potions in the world, And sau'd the Treacherous labour of your Sonne

K. Make vp to Clifton, Ile to Sir Nicholas Gausey.

Exit

Enter Hotspur.

Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth

Prin. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name

Hot. My name is Harrie Percie

Prin. Why then I see a very valiant rebel of that name. I am the
Prince of Wales, and thinke not Percy, To share with me in glory any
more:

Two Starres keepe not their motion in one Sphere, Nor can one England
brooke a double reigne, Of Harry Percy, and the Prince of Wales

Hot. Nor shall it Harry, for the houre is come To end the one of vs;
and would to heauen, Thy name in Armes, were now as great as mine

Prin. Ile make it greater, ere I part from thee, And all the budding
Honors on thy Crest,

Ile crop, to make a Garland for my head

Hot. I can no longer brooke thy Vanities.

Fight.

Enter Falstaffe.

Fal. Well said Hal, to it Hal. Nay you shall finde no Boyes play
heere, I can tell you.

Enter Dowglas, he fights with Falstaffe, who fals down as if he were
dead.

The Prince killeth Percie.

Hot. Oh Harry, thou hast rob'd me of my youth: I better brooke the
losse of brittle life, Then those proud Titles thou hast wonne of me,
They wound my thoghts worse, then the sword my flesh: But thought's the
slaue of Life, and Life, Times foole; And Time, that takes suruey of
all the world, Must haue a stop. O, I could Prophesie,

But that the Earth, and the cold hand of death, Lyes on my Tongue: No
Percy, thou art dust And food for-

Prin. For Wormes, braue Percy. Farewell great heart: Ill-weau'd
Ambition, how much art thou shrunke? When that this bodie did containe
a spirit, A Kingdome for it was too small a bound:

But now two paces of the vilest Earth

Is roome enough. This Earth that beares the dead, Beares not aliue so
stout a Gentleman.

If thou wer't sensible of curtesie,

I should not make so great a shew of Zeale. But let my fauours hide thy
mangled face, And euen in thy behalfe, Ile thanke my selfe For doing
these fayre Rites of Tendernesse. Adieu, and take thy praise with thee
to heauen, Thy ignomy sleepe with thee in the graue, But not remembred
in thy Epitaph.

What? Old Acquaintance? Could not all this flesh Keepe in a little
life? Poore Iacke, farewell: I could haue better spar'd a better man.

O, I should haue a heauy misse of thee,

If I were much in loue with Vanity.

Death hath not strucke so fat a Deere to day, Though many dearer in
this bloody Fray:

Imbowell'd will I see thee by and by,

Till then, in blood, by Noble Percie lye. Enter.

Falstaffe riseth vp.

Falst. Imbowell'd? If thou imbowell mee to day, Ile giue you leaue to
powder me, and eat me too to morow. 'Twas time to counterfet, or that
hotte Termagant Scot, had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I am
no counterfeit; to dye, is to be a counterfeit, for hee is but the
counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man: But to
counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liueth, is to be no counterfeit,
but the true and perfect image of life indeede. The better part of
Valour, is Discretion; in the which better part, I haue saued my life.
I am affraide of this Gun-powder Percy though he be dead. How if hee
should counterfeit too, and rise? I am afraid hee would proue the
better counterfeit: therefore Ile make him sure: yea, and Ile sweare I
kill'd him. Why may not hee rise as well as I: Nothing confutes me but
eyes, and no-bodie sees me. Therefore sirra, with a new wound in your
thigh come you along me.

Takes Hotspurre on his backe.

Enter Prince and Iohn of Lancaster.

Prin. Come Brother Iohn, full brauely hast thou flesht thy Maiden
sword

Iohn. But soft, who haue we heere?

Did you not tell me this Fat man was dead?   Prin. I did, I saw him
dead,

Breathlesse, and bleeding on the ground: Art thou aliue? Or is it
fantasie that playes vpon our eye-sight? I prethee speake, we will not
trust our eyes Without our eares. Thou art not what thou seem'st

Fal. No, that's certaine: I am not a double man: but if I be not
Iacke Falstaffe, then am I a Iacke: There is Percy, if your Father will
do me any Honor, so: if not, let him kill the next Percie himselfe. I
looke to be either Earle or Duke, I can assure you

Prin. Why, Percy I kill'd my selfe, and saw thee dead

Fal. Did'st thou? Lord, Lord, how the world is giuen to Lying? I
graunt you I was downe, and out of breath, and so was he, but we rose
both at an instant, and fought a long houre by Shrewsburie clocke. If I
may bee beleeued, so: if not, let them that should reward Valour, beare
the sinne vpon their owne heads. Ile take't on my death I gaue him this
wound in the Thigh: if the man were aliue, and would deny it, I would
make him eate a peece of my sword

Iohn. This is the strangest Tale that e're I heard

Prin. This is the strangest Fellow, Brother Iohn. Come bring your
luggage Nobly on your backe: For my part, if a lye may do thee grace,

Ile gil'd it with the happiest tearmes I haue.

A Retreat is sounded.

The Trumpets sound Retreat, the day is ours: Come Brother, let's to the
highest of the field, To see what Friends are liuing, who are dead.

Exeunt.

Fal. Ile follow as they say, for Reward. Hee that rewards me, heauen
reward him. If I do grow great again, Ile grow lesse? For Ile purge,
and leaue Sacke, and liue cleanly, as a Nobleman should do.

Exit

Scaena Quarta.

The Trumpets sound.

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of
Westmerland, with Worcester & Vernon Prisoners.

King. Thus euer did Rebellion finde Rebuke. Ill-spirited Worcester,
did we not send Grace, Pardon, and tearmes of Loue to all of you? And
would'st thou turne our offers contrary? Misuse the tenor of thy
Kinsmans trust?

Three Knights vpon our party slaine to day, A Noble Earle, and many a
creature else,

Had beene aliue this houre,

If like a Christian thou had'st truly borne Betwixt our Armies, true
Intelligence

Wor. What I haue done, my safety vrg'd me to, And I embrace this
fortune patiently,

Since not to be auoyded, it fals on mee

King. Beare Worcester to death, and Vernon too: Other offenders we
will pause vpon.

Exit Worcester and Vernon.

How goes the Field?

Prin. The Noble Scot Lord Dowglas, when hee saw The fortune of the
day quite turn'd from him, The Noble Percy slaine, and all his men,

Vpon the foot of feare, fled with the rest; And falling from a hill, he
was so bruiz'd That the pursuers tooke him. At my Tent

The Dowglas is, and I beseech your Grace, I may dispose of him

King. With all my heart

Prin. Then Brother Iohn of Lancaster,

To you this honourable bounty shall belong: Go to the Dowglas, and
deliuer him

Vp to his pleasure, ransomlesse and free: His Valour shewne vpon our
Crests to day, Hath taught vs how to cherish such high deeds, Euen in
the bosome of our Aduersaries

King. Then this remaines: that we diuide our Power. You Sonne Iohn,
and my Cousin Westmerland Towards Yorke shall bend you, with your
deerest speed To meet Northumberland, and the Prelate Scroope, Who (as
we heare) are busily in Armes.

My Selfe, and you Sonne Harry will towards Wales, To fight with
Glendower, and the Earle of March. Rebellion in this Land shall lose
his way, Meeting the Checke of such another day:

And since this Businesse so faire is done, Let vs not leaue till all
our owne be wonne.

Exeunt.



FINIS. The First Part of Henry the Fourth, with the Life and Death of

HENRY Sirnamed HOT-SPVRRE.



The Second Part of Henry the Fourth

Containing his Death: and the Coronation of King Henry the Fift

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

INDVCTION.

Enter Rumour.



Open your Eares: For which of you will stop The vent of Hearing, when
loud Rumor speakes? I, from the Orient, to the drooping West

(Making the winde my Post-horse) still vnfold The Acts commenced on
this Ball of Earth. Vpon my Tongue, continuall Slanders ride, The
which, in euery Language, I pronounce, Stuffing the Eares of them with
false Reports: I speake of Peace, while couert Enmitie

(Vnder the smile of Safety) wounds the World: And who but Rumour, who
but onely I

Make fearfull Musters, and prepar'd Defence, Whil'st the bigge yeare,
swolne with some other griefes, Is thought with childe, by the sterne
Tyrant, Warre, And no such matter? Rumour, is a Pipe

Blowne by Surmises, Ielousies, Coniectures; And of so easie, and so
plaine a stop,

That the blunt Monster, with vncounted heads, The still discordant,
wauering Multitude, Can play vpon it. But what neede I thus

My well-knowne Body to Anathomize

Among my houshold? Why is Rumour heere?

I run before King Harries victory,

Who in a bloodie field by Shrewsburie

Hath beaten downe yong Hotspurre, and his Troopes, Quenching the flame
of bold Rebellion,

Euen with the Rebels blood. But what meane I To speake so true at
first? My Office is

To noyse abroad, that Harry Monmouth fell Vnder the Wrath of Noble
Hotspurres Sword: And that the King, before the Dowglas Rage Stoop'd
his Annointed head, as low as death. This haue I rumour'd through the
peasant-Townes, Betweene the Royall Field of Shrewsburie, And this
Worme-eaten-Hole of ragged Stone, Where Hotspurres Father, old
Northumberland, Lyes crafty sicke. The Postes come tyring on, And not a
man of them brings other newes

Then they haue learn'd of Me. From Rumours Tongues, They bring
smooth-Comforts-false, worse then True-wrongs. Enter.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Lord Bardolfe, and the Porter.

L.Bar. Who keepes the Gate heere hoa?

Where is the Earle?

Por. What shall I say you are?

Bar. Tell thou the Earle

That the Lord Bardolfe doth attend him heere

Por. His Lordship is walk'd forth into the Orchard, Please it your
Honor, knocke but at the Gate, And he himselfe will answer.

Enter Northumberland.

L.Bar. Heere comes the Earle

Nor. What newes Lord Bardolfe? Eu'ry minute now Should be the Father
of some Stratagem;

The Times are wilde: Contention (like a Horse Full of high Feeding)
madly hath broke loose, And beares downe all before him

L.Bar. Noble Earle,

I bring you certaine newes from Shrewsbury

Nor. Good, and heauen will

L.Bar. As good as heart can wish:

The King is almost wounded to the death:

And in the Fortune of my Lord your Sonne, Prince Harrie slaine
out-right: and both the Blunts Kill'd by the hand of Dowglas. Yong
Prince Iohn, And Westmerland, and Stafford, fled the Field. And Harrie
Monmouth's Brawne (the Hulke Sir Iohn) Is prisoner to your Sonne. O,
such a Day, (So fought, so follow'd, and so fairely wonne) Came not,
till now, to dignifie the Times Since Csars Fortunes

Nor. How is this deriu'd?

Saw you the Field? Came you from Shrewsbury?   L.Bar. I spake with one
(my L[ord].) that came fro[m] thence, A Gentleman well bred, and of
good name,

That freely render'd me these newes for true

Nor. Heere comes my Seruant Trauers, whom I sent On Tuesday last, to
listen after Newes.

Enter Trauers.

L.Bar. My Lord, I ouer-rod him on the way, And he is furnish'd with
no certainties,

More then he (haply) may retaile from me

Nor. Now Trauers, what good tidings comes fro[m] you?   Tra. My
Lord, Sir Iohn Vmfreuill turn'd me backe With ioyfull tydings; and
(being better hors'd) Out-rod me. After him, came spurring head A
Gentleman (almost fore-spent with speed) That stopp'd by me, to breath
his bloodied horse. He ask'd the way to Chester: And of him

I did demand what Newes from Shrewsbury:

He told me, that Rebellion had ill lucke, And that yong Harry Percies
Spurre was cold. With that he gaue his able Horse the head, And bending
forwards strooke his able heeles Against the panting sides of his poore
Iade Vp to the Rowell head, and starting so,

He seem'd in running, to deuoure the way, Staying no longer question

North. Ha? Againe:

Said he yong Harrie Percyes Spurre was cold? (Of Hot-Spurre,
cold-Spurre?) that Rebellion, Had met ill lucke?

L.Bar. My Lord: Ile tell you what,

If my yong Lord your Sonne, haue not the day, Vpon mine Honor, for a
silken point

Ile giue my Barony. Neuer talke of it

Nor. Why should the Gentleman that rode by Trauers Giue then such
instances of Losse?

L.Bar. Who, he?

He was some hielding Fellow, that had stolne The Horse he rode-on: and
vpon my life

Speake at aduenture. Looke, here comes more Newes. Enter Morton.

Nor. Yea, this mans brow, like to a Title-leafe, Fore-tels the Nature
of a Tragicke Volume: So lookes the Strond, when the Imperious Flood
Hath left a witnest Vsurpation.

Say Morton, did'st thou come from Shrewsbury?   Mor. I ran from
Shrewsbury (my Noble Lord) Where hatefull death put on his vgliest
Maske To fright our party

North. How doth my Sonne, and Brother? Thou trembl'st; and the
whitenesse in thy Cheeke Is apter then thy Tongue, to tell thy Errand.
Euen such a man, so faint, so spiritlesse, So dull, so dead in looke,
so woe-be-gone, Drew Priams Curtaine, in the dead of night, And would
haue told him, Halfe his Troy was burn'd. But Priam found the Fire, ere
he his Tongue: And I, my Percies death, ere thou report'st it. This,
thou would'st say: Your Sonne did thus, and thus: Your Brother, thus.
So fought the Noble Dowglas, Stopping my greedy eare, with their bold
deeds. But in the end (to stop mine Eare indeed) Thou hast a Sigh, to
blow away this Praise, Ending with Brother, Sonne, and all are dead

Mor. Dowglas is liuing, and your Brother, yet: But for my Lord, your
Sonne

North. Why, he is dead.

See what a ready tongue Suspition hath:

He that but feares the thing, he would not know, Hath by Instinct,
knowledge from others Eyes, That what he feard, is chanc'd. Yet speake
(Morton) Tell thou thy Earle, his Diuination Lies, And I will take it,
as a sweet Disgrace,

And make thee rich, for doing me such wrong

Mor. You are too great, to be (by me) gainsaid: Your Spirit is too
true, your Feares too certaine

North. Yet for all this, say not that Percies dead. I see a strange
Confession in thine Eye:

Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it Feare, or Sinne, To speake a
truth. If he be slaine, say so: The Tongue offends not, that reports
his death: And he doth sinne that doth belye the dead: Not he, which
sayes the dead is not aliue: Yet the first bringer of vnwelcome Newes

Hath but a loosing Office: and his Tongue, Sounds euer after as a
sullen Bell

Remembred, knolling a departing Friend

L.Bar. I cannot thinke (my Lord) your son is dead

Mor. I am sorry, I should force you to beleeue That, which I would
to heauen, I had not seene. But these mine eyes, saw him in bloody
state, Rend'ring faint quittance (wearied, and out-breath'd) To Henrie
Monmouth, whose swift wrath beate downe The neuer-daunted Percie to the
earth,

From whence (with life) he neuer more sprung vp. In few; his death
(whose spirit lent a fire, Euen to the dullest Peazant in his Campe)
Being bruited once, tooke fire and heate away From the best temper'd
Courage in his Troopes. For from his Mettle, was his Party steel'd;
Which once, in him abated, all the rest

Turn'd on themselues, like dull and heauy Lead: And as the Thing,
that's heauy in it selfe, Vpon enforcement, flyes with greatest speede,
So did our Men, heauy in Hotspurres losse, Lend to this weight, such
lightnesse with their Feare, That Arrowes fled not swifter toward their
ayme, Then did our Soldiers (ayming at their safety) Fly from the
field. Then was that Noble Worcester Too soone ta'ne prisoner: and that
furious Scot, (The bloody Dowglas) whose well-labouring sword Had three
times slaine th' appearance of the King, Gan vaile his stomacke, and
did grace the shame Of those that turn'd their backes: and in his
flight, Stumbling in Feare, was tooke. The summe of all, Is, that the
King hath wonne: and hath sent out A speedy power, to encounter you my
Lord, Vnder the Conduct of yong Lancaster

And Westmerland. This is the Newes at full

North. For this, I shall haue time enough to mourne. In Poyson,
there is Physicke: and this newes (Hauing beene well) that would haue
made me sicke, Being sicke, haue in some measure, made me well. And as
the Wretch, whose Feauer-weakned ioynts, Like strengthlesse Hindges,
buckle vnder life, Impatient of his Fit, breakes like a fire Out of his
keepers armes: Euen so, my Limbes (Weak'ned with greefe) being now
inrag'd with greefe, Are thrice themselues. Hence therefore thou nice
crutch, A scalie Gauntlet now, with ioynts of Steele Must gloue this
hand. And hence thou sickly Quoife, Thou art a guard too wanton for the
head, Which Princes, flesh'd with Conquest, ayme to hit. Now binde my
Browes with Iron and approach The ragged'st houre, that Time and Spight
dare bring To frowne vpon th' enrag'd Northumberland. Let Heauen kisse
Earth: now let not Natures hand Keepe the wilde Flood confin'd: Let
Order dye, And let the world no longer be a stage

To feede Contention in a ling'ring Act:

But let one spirit of the First-borne Caine Reigne in all bosomes, that
each heart being set On bloody Courses, the rude Scene may end, And
darknesse be the burier of the dead

L.Bar. Sweet Earle, diuorce not wisedom from your Honor

Mor. The liues of all your louing Complices Leane-on your health,
the which if you giue-o're To stormy Passion, must perforce decay.

You cast th' euent of Warre (my Noble Lord) And summ'd the accompt of
Chance, before you said Let vs make head: It was your presurmize, That
in the dole of blowes, your Son might drop. You knew he walk'd o're
perils, on an edge More likely to fall in, then to get o're: You were
aduis'd his flesh was capeable

Of Wounds, and Scarres; and that his forward Spirit Would lift him,
where most trade of danger rang'd, Yet did you say go forth: and none
of this (Though strongly apprehended) could restraine The stiffe-borne
Action: What hath then befalne? Or what hath this bold enterprize bring
forth, More then that Being, which was like to be?   L.Bar. We all that
are engaged to this losse, Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous
Seas, That if we wrought out life, was ten to one: And yet we ventur'd
for the gaine propos'd, Choak'd the respect of likely perill fear'd,
And since we are o're-set, venture againe. Come, we will all put forth;
Body, and Goods,   Mor. 'Tis more then time: And (my most Noble Lord) I
heare for certaine, and do speake the truth: The gentle Arch-bishop of
Yorke is vp

With well appointed Powres: he is a man

Who with a double Surety bindes his Followers. My Lord (your Sonne) had
onely but the Corpes, But shadowes, and the shewes of men to fight. For
that same word (Rebellion) did diuide The action of their bodies, from
their soules, And they did fight with queasinesse, constrain'd As men
drinke Potions; that their Weapons only Seem'd on our side: but for
their Spirits and Soules, This word (Rebellion) it had froze them vp,
As Fish are in a Pond. But now the Bishop Turnes Insurrection to
Religion,

Suppos'd sincere, and holy in his Thoughts: He's follow'd both with
Body, and with Minde: And doth enlarge his Rising, with the blood Of
faire King Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret stones, Deriues from heauen,
his Quarrell, and his Cause: Tels them, he doth bestride a bleeding
Land, Gasping for life, vnder great Bullingbrooke, And more, and lesse,
do flocke to follow him

North. I knew of this before. But to speake truth, This present
greefe had wip'd it from my minde. Go in with me, and councell euery
man

The aptest way for safety, and reuenge:

Get Posts, and Letters, and make Friends with speed, Neuer so few, nor
neuer yet more need.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Falstaffe, and Page.

Fal. Sirra, you giant, what saies the Doct[or]. to my water?   Pag.
He said sir, the water it selfe was a good healthy water: but for the
party that ow'd it, he might haue more diseases then he knew for

Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at mee: the braine of
this foolish compounded Clay-man, is not able to inuent any thing that
tends to laughter, more then I inuent, or is inuented on me. I am not
onely witty in my selfe, but the cause that wit is in other men. I doe
heere walke before thee, like a Sow, that hath o'rewhelm'd all her
Litter, but one. If the Prince put thee into my Seruice for any other
reason, then to set mee off, why then I haue no iudgement. Thou horson
Mandrake, thou art fitter to be worne in my cap, then to wait at my
heeles. I was neuer mann'd with an Agot till now: but I will sette you
neyther in Gold, nor Siluer, but in vilde apparell, and send you backe
againe to your Master, for a Iewell. The Iuuenall (the Prince your
Master) whose Chin is not yet fledg'd, I will sooner haue a beard grow
in the Palme of my hand, then he shall get one on his cheeke: yet he
will not sticke to say, his Face is a Face-Royall. Heauen may finish it
when he will, it is not a haire amisse yet: he may keepe it still at a
Face-Royall, for a Barber shall neuer earne six pence out of it; and
yet he will be crowing, as if he had writ man euer since his Father was
a Batchellour. He may keepe his owne Grace, but he is almost out of
mine, I can assure him. What said M[aster]. Dombledon, about the Satten
for my short Cloake, and Slops?   Pag. He said sir, you should procure
him better Assurance, then Bardolfe: he wold not take his Bond & yours,
he lik'd not the Security

Fal. Let him bee damn'd like the Glutton, may his Tongue be hotter,
a horson Achitophel; a

Rascally-yea-forsooth-knaue,

to beare a Gentleman in hand, and then

stand vpon Security? The horson smooth-pates doe now weare nothing but
high shoes, and bunches of Keyes at their girdles: and if a man is
through with them in honest Taking-vp, then they must stand vpon
Securitie: I had as liefe they would put Rats-bane in my mouth, as
offer to stoppe it with Security. I look'd hee should haue sent me two
and twenty yards of Satten (as I am true Knight) and he sends me
Security. Well, he may sleep in Security, for he hath the horne of
Abundance: and the lightnesse of his Wife shines through it, and yet
cannot he see, though he haue his owne Lanthorne to light him. Where's
Bardolfe?

Pag. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse

Fal. I bought him in Paules, and hee'l buy mee a horse in
Smithfield. If I could get mee a wife in the Stewes, I were Mann'd,
Hors'd, and Wiu'd.

Enter Chiefe Iustice, and Seruant.

Pag. Sir, heere comes the Nobleman that committed the Prince for
striking him, about Bardolfe

Fal. Wait close, I will not see him

Ch.Iust. What's he that goes there?

Ser. Falstaffe, and't please your Lordship

Iust. He that was in question for the Robbery?   Ser. He my Lord,
but he hath since done good seruice at Shrewsbury: and (as I heare) is
now going with some Charge, to the Lord Iohn of Lancaster

Iust. What to Yorke? Call him backe againe

Ser. Sir Iohn Falstaffe

Fal. Boy, tell him, I am deafe

Pag. You must speake lowder, my Master is deafe

Iust. I am sure he is, to the hearing of any thing good. Go plucke
him by the Elbow, I must speake with him

Ser. Sir Iohn

Fal. What? a yong knaue and beg? Is there not wars? Is there not
imployment? Doth not the K[ing]. lack subiects? Do not the Rebels want
Soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, it is worse
shame to begge, then to be on the worst side, were it worse then the
name of Rebellion can tell how to make it

Ser. You mistake me Sir

Fal. Why sir? Did I say you were an honest man? Setting my
Knight-hood, and my Souldiership aside, I had lyed in my throat, if I
had said so

Ser. I pray you (Sir) then set your Knighthood and your
Souldier-ship aside, and giue mee leaue to tell you, you lye in your
throat, if you say I am any other then an honest man

Fal. I giue thee leaue to tell me so? I lay a-side that which growes
to me? If thou get'st any leaue of me, hang me: if thou tak'st leaue,
thou wer't better be hang'd: you Hunt-counter, hence: Auant

Ser. Sir, my Lord would speake with you

Iust. Sir Iohn Falstaffe, a word with you

Fal. My good Lord: giue your Lordship good time of the day. I am
glad to see your Lordship abroad: I heard say your Lordship was sicke.
I hope your Lordship goes abroad by aduise. Your Lordship (though not
clean past your youth) hath yet some smack of age in you: some rellish
of the saltnesse of Time, and I most humbly beseech your Lordship, to
haue a reuerend care of your health

Iust. Sir Iohn, I sent you before your Expedition, to Shrewsburie

Fal. If it please your Lordship, I heare his Maiestie is return'd
with some discomfort from Wales

Iust. I talke not of his Maiesty: you would not come when I sent for
you?

Fal. And I heare moreouer, his Highnesse is falne into this same
whorson Apoplexie

Iust. Well, heauen mend him. I pray let me speak with you

Fal. This Apoplexie is (as I take it) a kind of Lethargie, a
sleeping of the blood, a horson Tingling

Iust. What tell you me of it? be it as it is

Fal. It hath it originall from much greefe; from study and
perturbation of the braine. I haue read the cause of his effects in
Galen. It is a kinde of deafenesse

Iust. I thinke you are falne into the disease: For you heare not
what I say to you

Fal. Very well (my Lord) very well: rather an't please you) it is
the disease of not Listning, the malady of not Marking, that I am
troubled withall

Iust. To punish you by the heeles, would amend the attention of your
eares, & I care not if I be your Physitian   Fal. I am as poore as Iob,
my Lord; but not so Patient: your Lordship may minister the Potion of
imprisonment to me, in respect of Pouertie: but how I should bee your
Patient, to follow your prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a
scruple, or indeede, a scruple it selfe

Iust. I sent for you (when there were matters against you for your
life) to come speake with me

Fal. As I was then aduised by my learned Councel, in the lawes of
this Land-seruice, I did not come

Iust. Wel, the truth is (sir Iohn) you liue in great infamy   Fal.
He that buckles him in my belt, ca[n]not liue in lesse

Iust. Your Meanes is very slender, and your wast great

Fal. I would it were otherwise: I would my Meanes were greater, and
my waste slenderer

Iust. You haue misled the youthfull Prince

Fal. The yong Prince hath misled mee. I am the Fellow with the great
belly, and he my Dogge

Iust. Well, I am loth to gall a new-heal'd wound: your daies seruice
at Shrewsbury, hath a little gilded ouer your Nights exploit on
Gads-hill. You may thanke the vnquiet time, for your quiet o're-posting
that Action

Fal. My Lord?

Iust. But since all is wel, keep it so: wake not a sleeping Wolfe

Fal. To wake a Wolfe, is as bad as to smell a Fox

Iu. What? you are as a candle, the better part burnt out   Fal. A
Wassell-Candle, my Lord; all Tallow: if I did say of wax, my growth
would approue the truth

Iust. There is not a white haire on your face, but shold haue his
effect of grauity

Fal. His effect of grauy, grauy, grauy

Iust. You follow the yong Prince vp and downe, like his euill
Angell

Fal. Not so (my Lord) your ill Angell is light: but I hope, he that
lookes vpon mee, will take mee without, weighing: and yet, in some
respects I grant, I cannot go: I cannot tell. Vertue is of so little
regard in these Costormongers, that true valor is turn'd Beare-heard.
Pregnancie is made a Tapster, and hath his quicke wit wasted in giuing
Recknings: all the other gifts appertinent to man (as the malice of
this Age shapes them) are not woorth a Gooseberry. You that are old,
consider not the capacities of vs that are yong: you measure the heat
of our Liuers, with the bitternes of your gals: & we that are in the
vaward of our youth, I must confesse, are wagges too

Iust. Do you set downe your name in the scrowle of youth, that are
written downe old, with all the Charracters of age? Haue you not a
moist eye? a dry hand? a yellow cheeke? a white beard? a decreasing
leg? an incresing belly? Is not your voice broken? your winde short?
your wit single? and euery part about you blasted with Antiquity? and
wil you cal your selfe yong? Fy, fy, fy, sir Iohn

Fal. My Lord, I was borne with a white head, & somthing a round
belly. For my voice, I haue lost it with hallowing and singing of
Anthemes. To approue my youth farther, I will not: the truth is, I am
onely olde in iudgement and vnderstanding: and he that will caper with
mee for a thousand Markes, let him lend me the mony, & haue at him. For
the boxe of th' eare that the Prince gaue you, he gaue it like a rude
Prince, and you tooke it like a sensible Lord. I haue checkt him for
it, and the yong Lion repents: Marry not in ashes and sacke-cloath, but
in new Silke, and old Sacke

Iust. Wel, heauen send the Prince a better companion

Fal. Heauen send the Companion a better Prince: I cannot rid my
hands of him

Iust. Well, the King hath seuer'd you and Prince Harry, I heare you
are going with Lord Iohn of Lancaster, against the Archbishop, and the
Earle of Northumberland   Fal. Yes, I thanke your pretty sweet wit for
it: but looke you pray, (all you that kisse my Ladie Peace, at home)
that our Armies ioyn not in a hot day: for if I take but two shirts out
with me, and I meane not to sweat extraordinarily:

if it bee a hot day, if I brandish any thing but my Bottle, would I
might neuer spit white againe: There is not a daungerous Action can
peepe out his head, but I am thrust vpon it. Well, I cannot last euer

Iust. Well, be honest, be honest, and heauen blesse your Expedition

Fal. Will your Lordship lend mee a thousand pound, to furnish me
forth?

Iust. Not a peny, not a peny: you are too impatient to beare crosses.
Fare you well. Commend mee to my Cosin Westmerland

Fal. If I do, fillop me with a three-man-Beetle. A man can no more
separate Age and Couetousnesse, then he can part yong limbes and
letchery: but the Gowt galles the one, and the pox pinches the other;
and so both the Degrees preuent my curses. Boy?

Page. Sir

Fal. What money is in my purse?

Page. Seuen groats, and two pence

Fal. I can get no remedy against this Consumption of the purse.
Borrowing onely lingers, and lingers it out, but the disease is
incureable. Go beare this letter to my Lord of Lancaster, this to the
Prince, this to the Earle of Westmerland, and this to old Mistris
Vrsula, whome I haue weekly sworne to marry, since I perceiu'd the
first white haire on my chin. About it: you know where to finde me. A
pox of this Gowt, or a Gowt of this Poxe: for the one or th' other
playes the rogue with my great toe: It is no matter, if I do halt, I
haue the warres for my colour, and my Pension shall seeme the more
reasonable. A good wit will make vse of any thing: I will turne
diseases to commodity.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Archbishop, Hastings, Mowbray, and Lord Bardolfe.

Ar. Thus haue you heard our causes, & kno our Means: And my most
noble Friends, I pray you all Speake plainly your opinions of our
hopes, And first (Lord Marshall) what say you to it?   Mow. I well
allow the occasion of our Armes, But gladly would be better satisfied,

How (in our Meanes) we should aduance our selues To looke with forhead
bold and big enough Vpon the Power and puisance of the King

Hast. Our present Musters grow vpon the File To fiue and twenty
thousand men of choice: And our Supplies, liue largely in the hope Of
great Northumberland, whose bosome burnes With an incensed Fire of
Iniuries

L.Bar. The question then (Lord Hastings) standeth thus Whether our
present fiue and twenty thousand May hold-vp-head, without
Northumberland:   Hast. With him, we may

L.Bar. I marry, there's the point:

But if without him we be thought to feeble, My iudgement is, we should
not step too farre Till we had his Assistance by the hand.

For in a Theame so bloody fac'd, as this, Coniecture, Expectation, and
Surmise

Of Aydes incertaine, should not be admitted

Arch. 'Tis very true Lord Bardolfe, for indeed It was yong
Hotspurres case, at Shrewsbury

L.Bar. It was (my Lord) who lin'd himself with hope, Eating the
ayre, on promise of Supply,

Flatt'ring himselfe with Proiect of a power, Much smaller, then the
smallest of his Thoughts, And so with great imagination

(Proper to mad men) led his Powers to death, And (winking) leap'd into
destruction

Hast. But (by your leaue) it neuer yet did hurt, To lay downe
likely-hoods, and formes of hope

L.Bar. Yes, if this present quality of warre, Indeed the instant
action: a cause on foot, Liues so in hope: As in an early Spring,

We see th' appearing buds, which to proue fruite, Hope giues not so
much warrant, as Dispaire That Frosts will bite them. When we meane to
build, We first suruey the Plot, then draw the Modell, And when we see
the figure of the house,

Then must we rate the cost of the Erection, Which if we finde
out-weighes Ability,

What do we then, but draw a-new the Modell In fewer offices? Or at
least, desist

To builde at all? Much more, in this great worke, (Which is (almost) to
plucke a Kingdome downe, And set another vp) should we suruey

The plot of Situation, and the Modell;

Consent vpon a sure Foundation:

Question Surueyors, know our owne estate, How able such a Worke to
vndergo,

To weigh against his Opposite? Or else,

We fortifie in Paper, and in Figures,

Vsing the Names of men, instead of men:

Like one, that drawes the Modell of a house Beyond his power to builde
it; who (halfe through) Giues o're, and leaues his part-created Cost A
naked subiect to the Weeping Clouds,

And waste, for churlish Winters tyranny

Hast. Grant that our hopes (yet likely of faire byrth) Should be
still-borne: and that we now possest The vtmost man of expectation:

I thinke we are a Body strong enough

(Euen as we are) to equall with the King

L.Bar. What is the King but fiue & twenty thousand?   Hast. To vs no
more: nay not so much Lord Bardolf. For0his diuisions (as the Times do
braul) Are in three Heads: one Power against the French, And one
against Glendower: Perforce a third Must take vp vs: So is the vnfirme
King

In three diuided: and his Coffers sound

With hollow Pouerty, and Emptinesse

Ar. That he should draw his seuerall strengths togither And come
against vs in full puissance

Need not be dreaded

Hast. If he should do so,

He leaues his backe vnarm'd, the French, and Welch Baying him at the
heeles: neuer feare that

L.Bar. Who is it like should lead his Forces hither?   Hast. The
Duke of Lancaster, and Westmerland: Against the Welsh himselfe, and
Harrie Monmouth. But who is substituted 'gainst the French, I haue no
certaine notice

Arch. Let vs on:

And publish the occasion of our Armes.

The Common-wealth is sicke of their owne Choice, Their ouer-greedy loue
hath surfetted:

An habitation giddy, and vnsure

Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. O thou fond Many, with what
loud applause Did'st thou beate heauen with blessing Bullingbrooke,
Before he was, what thou would'st haue him be? And being now trimm'd in
thine owne desires, Thou (beastly Feeder) art so full of him, That thou
prouok'st thy selfe to cast him vp. So, so, (thou common Dogge) did'st
thou disgorge Thy glutton-bosome of the Royall Richard, And now thou
would'st eate thy dead vomit vp, And howl'st to finde it. What trust is
in these Times? They, that when Richard liu'd, would haue him dye, Are
now become enamour'd on his graue.

Thou that threw'st dust vpon his goodly head When through proud London
he came sighing on, After th' admired heeles of Bullingbrooke, Cri'st
now, O Earth, yeeld vs that King againe, And take thou this (O thoughts
of men accurs'd) ``Past, and to Come, seemes best; things Present,
worst

Mow. Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on?   Hast. We are Times
subiects, and Time bids, be gon.

Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Hostesse, with two Officers, Fang, and Snare.

Hostesse. Mr. Fang, haue you entred the Action?   Fang. It is
enter'd

Hostesse. Wher's your Yeoman? Is it a lusty yeoman? Will he stand to
it?

Fang. Sirrah, where's Snare?

Hostesse. I, I, good M[aster]. Snare

Snare. Heere, heere

Fang. Snare, we must Arrest Sir Iohn Falstaffe

Host. I good M[aster]. Snare, I haue enter'd him, and all

Sn. It may chance cost some of vs our liues: he wil stab   Hostesse.
Alas the day: take heed of him: he stabd me in mine owne house, and
that most beastly: he cares not what mischeefe he doth, if his weapon
be out. Hee will foyne like any diuell, he will spare neither man,
woman, nor childe

Fang. If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust

Hostesse. No, nor I neither: Ile be at your elbow

Fang. If I but fist him once: if he come but within my Vice

Host. I am vndone with his going: I warrant he is an infinitiue
thing vpon my score. Good M[aster]. Fang hold him sure: good M[aster].
Snare let him not scape, he comes continuantly

to Py-Corner (sauing your manhoods) to buy a saddle, and hee is indited
to dinner to the Lubbars head in Lombardstreet, to M[aster]. Smoothes
the Silkman. I pra' ye, since my Exion is enter'd, and my Case so
openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his answer: A 100.
Marke is a long one, for a poore lone woman to beare: & I haue borne,
and borne, and borne, and haue bin fub'd off, and fub'd-off, from this
day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no
honesty in such dealing, vnles a woman should be made an Asse and a
Beast, to beare euery Knaues wrong.

Enter Falstaffe and Bardolfe.

Yonder he comes, and that arrant Malmesey-Nose Bardolfe with him. Do
your Offices, do your offices: M[aster]. Fang, & M[aster].

Snare, do me, do me, do me your Offices

Fal. How now? whose Mare's dead? what's the matter?   Fang. Sir
Iohn, I arrest you, at the suit of Mist. Quickly

Falst. Away Varlets, draw Bardolfe: Cut me off the Villaines head:
throw the Queane in the Channel

Host. Throw me in the channell? Ile throw thee there. Wilt thou?
wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue. Murder, murder, O thou Hony-suckle
villaine, wilt thou kill Gods officers, and the Kings? O thou hony-seed
Rogue, thou art a honyseed, a Man-queller, and a woman-queller

Falst. Keep them off, Bardolfe

Fang. A rescu, a rescu

Host. Good people bring a rescu. Thou wilt not? thou wilt not? Do,
do thou Rogue: Do thou Hempseed

Page. Away you Scullion, you Rampallian, you Fustillirian: Ile tucke
your Catastrophe.

Enter Ch. Iustice.

Iust. What's the matter? Keepe the Peace here, hoa

Host. Good my Lord be good to mee. I beseech you stand to me

Ch.Iust. How now sir Iohn? What are you brauling here? Doth this
become your place, your time, and businesse? You should haue bene well
on your way to Yorke. Stand from him Fellow; wherefore hang'st vpon
him?   Host. Oh my most worshipfull Lord, and't please your Grace, I am
a poore widdow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit

Ch.Iust. For what summe?

Host. It is more then for some (my Lord) it is for all: all I haue,
he hath eaten me out of house and home; hee hath put all my substance
into that fat belly of his: but I will haue some of it out againe, or I
will ride thee o' Nights, like the Mare

Falst. I thinke I am as like to ride the Mare, if I haue any vantage
of ground, to get vp

Ch.Iust. How comes this, Sir Iohn? Fy, what a man of good temper
would endure this tempest of exclamation? Are you not asham'd to
inforce a poore Widdowe to so rough a course, to come by her owne?

Falst. What is the grosse summe that I owe thee?   Host. Marry (if
thou wer't an honest man) thy selfe, & the mony too. Thou didst sweare
to mee vpon a parcell gilt Goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber at the
round table, by a sea-cole fire, on Wednesday in Whitson week, when the
Prince broke thy head for lik'ning him to a singing man of Windsor;
Thou didst sweare to me then (as I was washing thy wound) to marry me,
and make mee my Lady thy wife. Canst y deny it? Did not goodwife Keech
the Butchers wife come in then, and cal me gossip Quickly? comming in
to borrow a messe of Vinegar: telling vs, she had a good dish of
Prawnes: whereby y didst desire to eat some: whereby I told thee they
were ill for a greene wound? And didst not thou (when she was gone
downe staires) desire me to be no more familiar with such poore people,
saying, that ere long they should call me Madam? And did'st y not kisse
me, and bid mee fetch thee 30.s? I put thee now to thy Book-oath, deny
it if thou canst?   Fal. My Lord, this is a poore mad soule: and she
sayes vp & downe the town, that her eldest son is like you. She hath
bin in good case, & the truth is, pouerty hath distracted her: but for
these foolish Officers, I beseech you, I may haue redresse against
them

Iust. Sir Iohn, sir Iohn, I am well acquainted with your maner of
wrenching the true cause, the false way. It is not a confident brow,
nor the throng of wordes, that come with such (more then impudent)
sawcines from you, can thrust me from a leuell consideration, I know
you ha' practis'd vpon the easie-yeelding spirit of this woman

Host. Yes in troth my Lord

Iust. Prethee peace: pay her the debt you owe her, and vnpay the
villany you haue done her: the one you may do with sterling mony, & the
other with currant repentance

Fal. My Lord, I will not vndergo this sneape without reply. You call
honorable Boldnes, impudent Sawcinesse: If a man wil curt'sie, and say
nothing, he is vertuous: No, my Lord (your humble duty reme[m]bred) I
will not be your sutor. I say to you, I desire deliu'rance from these
Officers being vpon hasty employment in the Kings Affaires

Iust. You speake, as hauing power to do wrong: But answer in the
effect of your Reputation, and satisfie the poore woman

Falst. Come hither Hostesse.

Enter M[aster]. Gower]

Ch.Iust. Now Master Gower; What newes?

Gow. The King (my Lord) and Henrie Prince of Wales Are neere at hand:
The rest the Paper telles

Falst. As I am a Gentleman

Host. Nay, you said so before

Fal. As I am a Gentleman. Come, no more words of it   Host. By this
Heauenly ground I tread on, I must be faine to pawne both my Plate, and
the Tapistry of my dyning Chambers

Fal. Glasses, glasses, is the onely drinking: and for thy walles a
pretty slight Drollery, or the Storie of the Prodigall, or the Germane
hunting in Waterworke, is worth a thousand of these Bed-hangings, and
these Flybitten Tapistries. Let it be tenne pound (if thou canst.)

Come, if it were not for thy humors, there is not a better Wench in
England. Go, wash thy face, and draw thy Action: Come, thou must not
bee in this humour with me, come, I know thou was't set on to this

Host. Prethee (Sir Iohn) let it be but twenty Nobles, I loath to
pawne my Plate, in good earnest la

Fal. Let it alone, Ile make other shift: you'l be a fool still

Host. Well, you shall haue it although I pawne my Gowne. I hope
you'l come to Supper: You'l pay me altogether?   Fal. Will I liue? Go
with her, with her: hooke-on, hooke-on

Host. Will you haue Doll Teare-sheet meet you at supper?   Fal. No
more words. Let's haue her

Ch.Iust. I haue heard bitter newes

Fal. What's the newes (my good Lord?)

Ch.Iu. Where lay the King last night?

Mes. At Basingstoke my Lord

Fal. I hope (my Lord) all's well. What is the newes my Lord?

Ch.Iust. Come all his Forces backe?

Mes. No: Fifteene hundred Foot, fiue hundred Horse Are march'd vp to
my Lord of Lancaster,

Against Northumberland, and the Archbishop

Fal. Comes the King backe from Wales, my noble L[ord]?   Ch.Iust.
You shall haue Letters of me presently. Come, go along with me, good
M[aster]. Gowre

Fal. My Lord

Ch.Iust. What's the matter?

Fal. Master Gowre, shall I entreate you with mee to dinner?

Gow. I must waite vpon my good Lord heere. I thanke you, good Sir
Iohn

Ch.Iust. Sir Iohn, you loyter heere too long being you are to take
Souldiers vp, in Countries as you go

Fal. Will you sup with me, Master Gowre?   Ch.Iust. What foolish
Master taught you these manners, Sir Iohn?

Fal. Master Gower, if they become mee not, hee was a Foole that
taught them mee. This is the right Fencing grace (my Lord) tap for tap,
and so part faire

Ch.Iust. Now the Lord lighten thee, thou art a great Foole.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Prince Henry, Pointz, Bardolfe, and Page.

Prin. Trust me, I am exceeding weary

Poin. Is it come to that? I had thought wearines durst not haue
attach'd one of so high blood

Prin. It doth me: though it discolours the complexion of my
Greatnesse to acknowledge it. Doth it not shew vildely in me, to desire
small Beere?

Poin. Why, a Prince should not be so loosely studied, as to remember
so weake a Composition

Prince. Belike then, my Appetite was not Princely got: for (in
troth) I do now remember the poore Creature, Small Beere. But indeede
these humble considerations make me out of loue with my Greatnesse.
What a disgrace is it to me, to remember thy name? Or to know thy face
to morrow? Or to take note how many paire of Silk stockings y hast?
(Viz. these, and those that were thy peach-colour'd ones:) Or to beare
the Inuentorie of thy shirts, as one for superfluity, and one other,
for vse. But that the Tennis-Court-keeper knowes better then I, for it
is a low ebbe of Linnen with thee, when thou kept'st not Racket there,
as thou hast not done a great while, because the rest of thy Low
Countries, haue made a shift to eate vp thy Holland

Poin. How ill it followes, after you haue labour'd so hard, you
should talke so idlely? Tell me how many good yong Princes would do so,
their Fathers lying so sicke, as yours is?

Prin. Shall I tell thee one thing, Pointz?   Poin. Yes: and let it be
an excellent good thing

Prin. It shall serue among wittes of no higher breeding then thine

Poin. Go to: I stand the push of your one thing, that you'l tell

Prin. Why, I tell thee, it is not meet, that I should be sad now my
Father is sicke: albeit I could tell to thee (as to one it pleases me,
for fault of a better, to call my friend) I could be sad, and sad
indeed too

Poin. Very hardly, vpon such a subiect

Prin. Thou think'st me as farre in the Diuels Booke, as thou, and
Falstaffe, for obduracie and persistencie. Let the end try the man. But
I tell thee, my hart bleeds inwardly, that my Father is so sicke: and
keeping such vild company as thou art, hath in reason taken from me,
all ostentation of sorrow

Poin. The reason?

Prin. What would'st thou think of me, if I shold weep?   Poin. I
would thinke thee a most Princely hypocrite

Prin. It would be euery mans thought: and thou art a blessed Fellow,
to thinke as euery man thinkes: neuer a mans thought in the world,
keepes the Rode-way better then thine: euery man would thinke me an
Hypocrite indeede. And what accites your most worshipful thought to
thinke so?

Poin. Why, because you haue beene so lewde, and so much ingraffed to
Falstaffe

Prin. And to thee

Pointz. Nay, I am well spoken of, I can heare it with mine owne
eares: the worst that they can say of me is, that I am a second
Brother, and that I am a proper Fellowe of my hands: and those two
things I confesse I canot helpe. Looke, looke, here comes Bardolfe

Prince. And the Boy that I gaue Falstaffe, he had him from me
Christian, and see if the fat villain haue not transform'd him Ape.

Enter Bardolfe.

Bar. Saue your Grace

Prin. And yours, most Noble Bardolfe

Poin. Come you pernitious Asse, you bashfull Foole, must you be
blushing? Wherefore blush you now? what a Maidenly man at Armes are you
become? Is it such a matter to get a Pottle-pots Maiden-head?

Page. He call'd me euen now (my Lord) through a red Lattice, and I
could discerne no part of his face from the window: at last I spy'd his
eyes, and me thought he had made two holes in the Ale-wiues new
Petticoat, & peeped through

Prin. Hath not the boy profited?

Bar. Away, you horson vpright Rabbet, away

Page. Away, you rascally Altheas dreame, away

Prin. Instruct vs Boy: what dreame, Boy?   Page. Marry (my Lord)
Althea dream'd, she was deliuer'd of a Firebrand, and therefore I call
him hir dream

Prince. A Crownes-worth of good Interpretation: There it is, Boy

Poin. O that this good Blossome could bee kept from Cankers: Well,
there is six pence to preserue thee

Bard. If you do not make him be hang'd among you, the gallowes shall
be wrong'd

Prince. And how doth thy Master, Bardolph?   Bar. Well, my good
Lord: he heard of your Graces comming to Towne. There's a Letter for
you

Poin. Deliuer'd with good respect: And how doth the Martlemas, your
Master?

Bard. In bodily health Sir

Poin. Marry, the immortall part needes a Physitian: but that moues
not him: though that bee sicke, it dyes not

Prince. I do allow this Wen to bee as familiar with me, as my dogge:
and he holds his place, for looke you he writes

Poin.

Letter.

Iohn Falstaffe Knight: (Euery man must

know that, as oft as hee hath occasion to name himselfe:) Euen like
those that are kinne to the King, for they neuer pricke their finger,
but they say, there is som of the kings blood spilt. How comes that
(sayes he) that takes vpon him not to conceiue? the answer is as ready
as a borrowed cap: I am the Kings poore Cosin, Sir

Prince. Nay, they will be kin to vs, but they wil fetch it from
Iaphet. But to the Letter: - Sir Iohn Falstaffe, Knight, to the Sonne
of the King, neerest his Father, Harrie Prince of Wales, greeting

Poin. Why this is a Certificate

Prin. Peace.

I will imitate the honourable Romaines in breuitie

Poin. Sure he meanes breuity in breath: short-winded. I commend me
to thee, I commend thee, and I leaue thee. Bee not too familiar with
Pointz, for hee misuses thy Fauours so much, that he sweares thou art
to marrie his Sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou mayst, and so
farewell. Thine, by yea and no: which is as much as to say, as thou
vsest him. Iacke Falstaffe with my Familiars: Iohn with my Brothers and
Sister: & Sir

Iohn, with all Europe.

My Lord, I will steepe this Letter in Sack, and make him eate it

Prin. That's to make him eate twenty of his Words. But do you vse me
thus Ned? Must I marry your Sister?   Poin. May the Wench haue no worse
Fortune. But I neuer said so

Prin. Well, thus we play the Fooles with the time, & the spirits of
the wise, sit in the clouds, and mocke vs: Is your Master heere in
London?

Bard. Yes my Lord

Prin. Where suppes he? Doth the old Bore, feede in the old Franke?

Bard. At the old place my Lord, in East-cheape

Prin. What Company?

Page. Ephesians my Lord, of the old Church

Prin. Sup any women with him?

Page. None my Lord, but old Mistris Quickly, and M[istris]. Doll
Teare-sheet

Prin. What Pagan may that be?

Page. A proper Gentlewoman, Sir, and a Kinswoman of my Masters

Prin. Euen such Kin, as the Parish Heyfors are to the Towne-Bull?

Shall we steale vpon them (Ned) at Supper?   Poin. I am your shadow, my
Lord, Ile follow you

Prin. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your Master that I
am yet in Towne.

There's for your silence

Bar. I haue no tongue, sir

Page. And for mine Sir, I will gouerne it

Prin. Fare ye well: go.

This Doll Teare-sheet should be some Rode

Poin. I warrant you, as common as the way betweene S[aint]. Albans,
and London

Prin. How might we see Falstaffe bestow himselfe to night, in his
true colours, and not our selues be seene?   Poin. Put on two Leather
Ierkins, and Aprons, and waite vpon him at his Table, like Drawers

Prin. From a God, to a Bull? A heauie declension: It was Ioues case.
From a Prince, to a Prentice, a low transformation, that shall be mine:
for in euery thing, the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me
Ned.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Northumberland, his Ladie, and Harrie Percies Ladie.

North. I prethee louing Wife, and gentle Daughter, Giue an euen way
vnto my rough Affaires:

Put not you on the visage of the Times,

And be like them to Percie, troublesome

Wife. I haue giuen ouer, I will speak no more, Do what you will:
your Wisedome, be your guide

North. Alas (sweet Wife) my Honor is at pawne, And but my going,
nothing can redeeme it

La. Oh yet, for heauens sake, go not to these Warrs; The Time was
(Father) when you broke your word, When you were more endeer'd to it,
then now, When your owne Percy, when my heart-deereHarry, Threw many a
Northward looke, to see his Father Bring vp his Powres: but he did long
in vaine. Who then perswaded you to stay at home?

There were two Honors lost; Yours, and your Sonnes. For Yours, may
heauenly glory brighten it: For His, it stucke vpon him, as the Sunne
In the gray vault of Heauen: and by his Light Did all the Cheualrie of
England moue

To do braue Acts. He was (indeed) the Glasse Wherein the Noble-Youth
did dresse themselues. He had no Legges, that practic'd not his Gate:
And speaking thicke (which Nature made his blemish) Became the Accents
of the Valiant.

For those that could speake low, and tardily, Would turne their owne
Perfection, to Abuse, To seeme like him. So that in Speech, in Gate, In
Diet, in Affections of delight,

In Militarie Rules, Humors of Blood,

He was the Marke, and Glasse, Coppy, and Booke, That fashion'd others.
And him, O wondrous! him, O Miracle of Men! Him did you leaue

(Second to none) vn-seconded by you,

To looke vpon the hideous God of Warre,

In dis-aduantage, to abide a field,

Where nothing but the sound of Hotspurs Name Did seeme defensible: so
you left him.

Neuer, O neuer doe his Ghost the wrong,

To hold your Honor more precise and nice

With others, then with him. Let them alone: The Marshall and the
Arch-bishop are strong. Had my sweet Harry had but halfe their Numbers,
To day might I (hanging on Hotspurs Necke) Haue talk'd of Monmouth's
Graue

North. Beshrew your heart,

(Faire Daughter) you doe draw my Spirits from me, With new lamenting
ancient Ouer-sights.

But I must goe, and meet with Danger there, Or it will seeke me in
another place,

And finde me worse prouided

Wife. O flye to Scotland,

Till that the Nobles, and the armed Commons, Haue of their Puissance
made a little taste

Lady. If they get ground, and vantage of the King, Then ioyne you
with them, like a Ribbe of Steele, To make Strength stronger. But, for
all our loues, First let them trye themselues. So did your Sonne, He
was so suffer'd; so came I a Widow:

And neuer shall haue length of Life enough, To raine vpon Remembrance
with mine Eyes, That it may grow, and sprowt, as high as Heauen, For
Recordation to my Noble Husband

North. Come, come, go in with me: 'tis with my Minde As with the
Tyde, swell'd vp vnto his height, That makes a still-stand, running
neyther way. Faine would I goe to meet the Arch-bishop, But many
thousand Reasons hold me backe.

I will resolue for Scotland: there am I,

Till Time and Vantage craue my company.

Exeunt.



Scaena Quarta.

Enter two Drawers.

1.Drawer. What hast thou brought there? Apple-Iohns? Thou know'st Sir
Iohn cannot endure an Apple-Iohn

2.Draw. Thou say'st true: the Prince once set a Dish of Apple-Iohns
before him, and told him there were fiue more Sir Iohns: and, putting
off his Hat, said, I will now take my leaue of these sixe drie, round,
old-wither'd Knights. It anger'd him to the heart: but hee hath forgot
that

1.Draw. Why then couer, and set them downe: and see if thou canst
finde out Sneakes Noyse; Mistris Teare-sheet would faine haue some
Musique

2.Draw. Sirrha, heere will be the Prince, and Master Points, anon:
and they will put on two of our Ierkins, and Aprons, and Sir Iohn must
not know of it: Bardolph hath brought word

1.Draw. Then here will be old Vtis: it will be an excellent
stratagem

2.Draw. Ile see if I can finde out Sneake. Enter.

Enter Hostesse, and Dol.

Host. Sweet-heart, me thinkes now you are in an excellent good
temperalitie: your Pulsidge beates as extraordinarily, as heart would
desire; and your Colour

(I warrant you) is as red as any Rose: But you haue drunke too much
Canaries, and that's a maruellous searching Wine; and it perfumes the
blood, ere wee can say what's this. How doe you now?

Dol. Better then I was: Hem

Host. Why that was well said: A good heart's worth Gold. Looke, here
comes Sir Iohn.

Enter Falstaffe.

Falst. When Arthur first in Court - (emptie the Iordan) and was a
worthy King: How now Mistris Dol?   Host. Sick of a Calme: yea,
good-sooth

Falst. So is all her Sect: if they be once in a Calme, they are
sick

Dol. You muddie Rascall, is that all the comfort you giue me?

Falst. You make fat Rascalls, Mistris Dol

Dol. I make them? Gluttonie and Diseases make them, I make them not

Falst. If the Cooke make the Gluttonie, you helpe to make the
Diseases (Dol) we catch of you (Dol) we catch of you: Grant that, my
poore Vertue, grant that

Dol. I marry, our Chaynes, and our Iewels

Falst. Your Brooches, Pearles, and Owches: For to serue brauely, is
to come halting off: you know, to come off the Breach, with his Pike
bent brauely, and to Surgerie brauely; to venture vpon the
charg'd-Chambers brauely

Host. Why this is the olde fashion: you two neuer meete, but you
fall to some discord: you are both (in good troth) as Rheumatike as two
drie Tostes, you cannot one beare with anothers Confirmities. What the
good-yere? One must beare, and that must bee you: you are the weaker
Vessell; as they say, the emptier Vessell

Dol. Can a weake emptie Vessell beare such a huge full Hogs-head?
There's a whole Marchants Venture of Burdeux-Stuffe in him: you haue
not seene a Hulke better stufft in the Hold. Come, Ile be friends with
thee Iacke: Thou art going to the Warres, and whether I shall euer see
thee againe, or no, there is no body cares.

Enter Drawer.

Drawer. Sir, Ancient Pistoll is below, and would speake with you

Dol. Hang him, swaggering Rascall, let him not come hither: it is
the foule-mouth'dst Rogue in England

Host. If hee swagger, let him not come here: I must liue amongst my
Neighbors, Ile no Swaggerers: I am in good name, and fame, with the
very best: shut the doore, there comes no Swaggerers heere: I haue not
liu'd all this while, to haue swaggering now: shut the doore, I pray
you

Falst. Do'st thou heare, Hostesse?

Host. 'Pray you pacifie your selfe (Sir Iohn) there comes no
Swaggerers heere

Falst. Do'st thou heare? it is mine Ancient

Host. Tilly-fally (Sir Iohn) neuer tell me, your ancient Swaggerer
comes not in my doores. I was before Master Tisick the Deputie, the
other day: and as hee said to me, it was no longer agoe then Wednesday
last: Neighbour Quickly (sayes hee;) Master Dombe, our Minister, was by
then: Neighbour Quickly (sayes hee) receiue those that are Ciuill; for
(sayth hee) you are in an ill Name: now hee said so, I can tell
whereupon: for (sayes hee) you are an honest Woman, and well thought
on; therefore take heede what Guests you receiue: Receiue (sayes hee)
no swaggering Companions. There comes none heere. You would blesse you
to heare what hee said. No, Ile no Swaggerers

Falst. Hee's no Swaggerer (Hostesse:) a tame Cheater, hee: you may
stroake him as gently, as a Puppie Greyhound: hee will not swagger with
a Barbarie Henne, if her feathers turne backe in any shew of
resistance. Call him vp (Drawer.)

Host. Cheater, call you him? I will barre no honest man my house, nor
no Cheater: but I doe not loue swaggering; I am the worse when one
sayes, swagger: Feele Masters, how I shake: looke you, I warrant you

Dol. So you doe, Hostesse

Host. Doe I? yea, in very truth doe I, if it were an Aspen Leafe: I
cannot abide Swaggerers.

Enter Pistol, and Bardolph and his Boy.

Pist. 'Saue you, Sir Iohn

Falst. Welcome Ancient Pistol. Here (Pistol) I charge you with a Cup
of Sacke: doe you discharge vpon mine Hostesse

Pist. I will discharge vpon her (Sir Iohn) with two Bullets

Falst. She is Pistoll-proofe (Sir) you shall hardly offend her

Host. Come, Ile drinke no Proofes, nor no Bullets: I will drinke no
more then will doe me good, for no mans pleasure, I

Pist. Then to you (Mistris Dorothie) I will charge you

Dol. Charge me? I scorne you (scuruie Companion) what? you poore,
base, rascally, cheating, lacke-Linnen-Mate: away you mouldie Rogue,
away; I am meat for your Master

Pist. I know you, Mistris Dorothie

Dol. Away you Cut-purse Rascall, you filthy Bung, away: By this
Wine, Ile thrust my Knife in your mouldie Chappes, if you play the
sawcie Cuttle with me. Away you Bottle-Ale Rascall, you Basket-hilt
stale Iugler, you. Since when, I pray you, Sir? what, with two Points
on your shoulder? much

Pist. I will murther your Ruffe, for this

Host. No, good Captaine Pistol: not heere, sweete Captaine

Dol. Captaine? thou abhominable damn'd Cheater, art thou not asham'd
to be call'd Captaine? If Captaines were of my minde, they would
trunchion you out, for taking their Names vpon you, before you haue
earn'd them. You a Captaine? you slaue, for what? for tearing a poore
Whores Ruffe in a Bawdy-house? Hee a Captaine? hang him Rogue, hee
liues vpon mouldie stew'd-Pruines, and dry'de Cakes. A Captaine? These
Villaines will make the word Captaine odious: Therefore Captaines had
neede looke to it

Bard. 'Pray thee goe downe, good Ancient

Falst. Hearke thee hither, Mistris Dol

Pist. Not I: I tell thee what, Corporall Bardolph, I could teare
her: Ile be reueng'd on her

Page. 'Pray thee goe downe

Pist. Ile see her damn'd first: to Pluto's damn'd Lake, to the
Infernall Deepe, where Erebus and Tortures vilde also. Hold Hooke and
Line, say I: Downe: downe Dogges, downe Fates: haue wee not Hiren here?
Host. Good Captaine Peesel be quiet, it is very late: I beseeke you
now, aggrauate your Choler

Pist. These be good Humors indeede. Shall PackHorses, and
hollow-pamper'd Iades of Asia, which cannot goe but thirtie miles a
day, compare with Csar, and with Caniballs, and Troian Greekes? nay,
rather damne them with King Cerberus, and let the Welkin roare: shall
wee fall foule for Toyes?

Host. By my troth Captaine, these are very bitter words

Bard. Be gone, good Ancient: this will grow to a Brawle anon

Pist. Die men, like Dogges; giue Crownes like Pinnes: Haue we not
Hiren here?

Host. On my word (Captaine) there's none such here. What the
good-yere, doe you thinke I would denye her? I pray be quiet

Pist. Then feed, and be fat (my faire Calipolis.) Come, giue me some
Sack, Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contente. Feare wee
broad-sides? No, let the Fiend giue fire: Giue me some Sack: and
Sweet-heart lye thou there: Come wee to full Points here, and are et
cetera's nothing?   Fal. Pistol, I would be quiet

Pist. Sweet Knight, I kisse thy Neaffe: what? wee haue seene the
seuen Starres

Dol. Thrust him downe stayres, I cannot endure such a Fustian
Rascall

Pist. Thrust him downe stayres? know we not Galloway Nagges?

Fal. Quoit him downe (Bardolph) like a shoue-groat shilling: nay, if
hee doe nothing but speake nothing, hee shall be nothing here

Bard. Come, get you downe stayres

Pist. What? shall wee haue Incision? shall wee embrew? then Death
rocke me asleepe, abridge my dolefull dayes: why then let grieuous,
gastly, gaping Wounds, vntwin'd the Sisters three: Come Atropos, I say

Host. Here's good stuffe toward

Fal. Giue me my Rapier, Boy

Dol. I prethee Iack, I prethee doe not draw

Fal. Get you downe stayres

Host. Here's a goodly tumult: Ile forsweare keeping house, before
Ile be in these tirrits, and frights. So: Murther I warrant now. Alas,
alas, put vp your naked Weapons, put vp your naked Weapons

Dol. I prethee Iack be quiet, the Rascall is gone: ah, you whorson
little valiant Villaine, you

Host. Are you not hurt i'th' Groyne? me thought hee made a shrewd
Thrust at your Belly

Fal. Haue you turn'd him out of doores?   Bard. Yes Sir: the
Rascall's drunke: you haue hurt him (Sir) in the shoulder

Fal. A Rascall to braue me

Dol. Ah, you sweet little Rogue, you: alas, poore Ape, how thou
sweat'st? Come, let me wipe thy Face: Come on, you whorson Chops: Ah
Rogue, I loue thee: Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth fiue
of Agamemnon, and tenne times better then the nine Worthies: ah
Villaine

Fal. A rascally Slaue, I will tosse the Rogue in a Blanket

Dol. Doe, if thou dar'st for thy heart: if thou doo'st, Ile canuas
thee betweene a paire of Sheetes. Enter Musique.

Page. The Musique is come, Sir

Fal. Let them play: play Sirs. Sit on my Knee, Dol. A Rascall,
bragging Slaue: the Rogue fled from me like Quick-siluer

Dol. And thou followd'st him like a Church: thou whorson little
tydie Bartholmew Bore-pigge, when wilt thou leaue fighting on dayes,
and foyning on nights, and begin to patch vp thine old Body for Heauen?
Enter the Prince and Poines disguis'd.

Fal. Peace (good Dol) doe not speake like a Deathshead: doe not bid
me remember mine end

Dol. Sirrha, what humor is the Prince of?   Fal. A good shallow
young fellow: hee would haue made a good Pantler, hee would haue
chipp'd Bread well

Dol. They say Poines hath a good Wit

Fal. Hee a good Wit? hang him Baboone, his Wit is as thicke as
Tewksburie Mustard: there is no more conceit in him, then is in a
Mallet

Dol. Why doth the Prince loue him so then?   Fal. Because their
Legges are both of a bignesse: and hee playes at Quoits well, and eates
Conger and Fennell, and drinkes off Candles ends for Flap-dragons, and
rides the wilde-Mare with the Boyes, and iumpes vpon Ioyn'dstooles, and
sweares with a good grace, and weares his Boot very smooth, like vnto
the Signe of the Legge; and breedes no bate with telling of discreete
stories: and such other Gamboll Faculties hee hath, that shew a weake
Minde, and an able Body, for the which the Prince admits him; for the
Prince himselfe is such another: the weight of an hayre will turne the
Scales betweene their Haberdepois

Prince. Would not this Naue of a Wheele haue his Eares cut off?

Poin. Let vs beat him before his Whore

Prince. Looke, if the wither'd Elder hath not his Poll claw'd like a
Parrot

Poin. Is it not strange, that Desire should so many yeeres out-liue
performance?

Fal. Kisse me Dol

Prince. Saturne and Venus this yeere in Coniunction? What sayes the
Almanack to that?

Poin. And looke whether the fierie Trigon, his Man, be not lisping to
his Masters old Tables, his Note-Booke, his Councell-keeper?

Fal. Thou do'st giue me flatt'ring Busses

Dol. Nay truely, I kisse thee with a most constant heart

Fal. I am olde, I am olde

Dol. I loue thee better, then I loue ere a scuruie young Boy of them
all

Fal. What Stuffe wilt thou haue a Kirtle of? I shall receiue Money
on Thursday: thou shalt haue a Cappe to morrow. A merrie Song, come: it
growes late, wee will to Bed. Thou wilt forget me, when I am gone

Dol. Thou wilt set me a weeping, if thou say'st so: proue that euer
I dresse my selfe handsome, till thy returne: well, hearken the end

Fal. Some Sack, Francis

Prin. Poin. Anon, anon, Sir

Fal. Ha? a Bastard Sonne of the Kings? And art not thou Poines, his
Brother?

Prince. Why thou Globe of sinfull Continents, what a life do'st thou
lead?

Fal. A better then thou: I am a Gentleman, thou art a Drawer

Prince. Very true, Sir: and I come to draw you out by the Eares

Host. Oh, the Lord preserue thy good Grace: Welcome to London. Now
Heauen blesse that sweete Face of thine: what, are you come from
Wales?

Fal. Thou whorson mad Compound of Maiestie: by this light Flesh, and
corrupt Blood, thou art welcome

Dol. How? you fat Foole, I scorne you

Poin. My Lord, hee will driue you out of your reuenge, and turne all
to a merryment, if you take not the heat

Prince. You whorson Candle-myne you, how vildly did you speake of me
euen now, before this honest, vertuous, ciuill Gentlewoman?

Host. 'Blessing on your good heart, and so shee is by my troth

Fal. Didst thou heare me?

Prince. Yes: and you knew me, as you did when you ranne away by
Gads-hill: you knew I was at your back, and spoke it on purpose, to
trie my patience

Fal. No, no, no: not so: I did not thinke, thou wast within hearing

Prince. I shall driue you then to confesse the wilfull abuse, and
then I know how to handle you

Fal. No abuse (Hall) on mine Honor, no abuse

Prince. Not to disprayse me? and call me Pantler, and Bread-chopper,
and I know not what?

Fal. No abuse (Hal.)

Poin. No abuse?

Fal. No abuse (Ned) in the World: honest Ned none. I disprays'd him
before the Wicked, that the Wicked might not fall in loue with him: In
which doing, I haue done the part of a carefull Friend, and a true
Subiect, and thy Father is to giue me thankes for it. No abuse (Hal:)
none (Ned) none; no Boyes, none

Prince. See now whether pure Feare, and entire Cowardise, doth not
make thee wrong this vertuous Gentlewoman, to close with vs? Is shee of
the Wicked? Is thine Hostesse heere, of the Wicked? Or is the Boy of
the Wicked? Or honest Bardolph (whose Zeale burnes in his Nose) of the
Wicked?

Poin. Answere thou dead Elme, answere

Fal. The Fiend hath prickt downe Bardolph irrecouerable, and his
Face is Lucifers Priuy-Kitchin, where hee doth nothing but rost
Mault-Wormes: for the Boy, there is a good Angell about him, but the
Deuill outbids him too

Prince. For the Women?

Fal. For one of them, shee is in Hell alreadie, and burnes poore
Soules: for the other, I owe her Money; and whether shee bee damn'd for
that, I know not

Host. No, I warrant you

Fal. No, I thinke thou art not: I thinke thou art quit for that.
Marry, there is another Indictment vpon thee, for suffering flesh to
bee eaten in thy house, contrary to the Law, for the which I thinke
thou wilt howle

Host. All Victuallers doe so: What is a Ioynt of Mutton, or two, in
a whole Lent?

Prince. You, Gentlewoman

Dol. What sayes your Grace?

Falst. His Grace sayes that, which his flesh rebells against

Host. Who knocks so lowd at doore? Looke to the doore there,
Francis?

Enter Peto.

Prince. Peto, how now? what newes?

Peto. The King, your Father, is at Westminster, And there are twentie
weake and wearied Postes, Come from the North: and as I came along, I
met, and ouer-tooke a dozen Captaines,

Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the Tauernes, And asking euery one
for Sir Iohn Falstaffe

Prince. By Heauen (Poines) I feele me much to blame, So idly to
prophane the precious time,

When Tempest of Commotion, like the South, Borne with black Vapour,
doth begin to melt, And drop vpon our bare vnarmed heads.

Giue me my Sword, and Cloake:

Falstaffe, good night.

Enter.

Falst. Now comes in the sweetest Morsell of the night, and wee must
hence, and leaue it vnpickt. More knocking at the doore? How now?
what's the matter?   Bard. You must away to Court, Sir, presently, A
dozen Captaines stay at doore for you

Falst. Pay the Musitians, Sirrha: farewell Hostesse, farewell Dol.
You see (my good Wenches) how men of Merit are sought after: the
vndeseruer may sleepe, when the man of Action is call'd on. Farewell
good Wenches: if I be not sent away poste, I will see you againe, ere I
goe

Dol. I cannot speake: if my heart bee not readie to burst- Well
(sweete Iacke) haue a care of thy selfe

Falst. Farewell, farewell.

Enter.

Host. Well, fare thee well: I haue knowne thee these twentie nine
yeeres, come Pescod-time: but an honester, and truer-hearted man- Well,
fare thee well

Bard. Mistris Teare-sheet

Host. What's the matter?

Bard. Bid Mistris Teare-sheet come to my Master

Host. Oh runne Dol, runne: runne, good Dol.

Exeunt.



Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter the King, with a Page.

King. Goe, call the Earles of Surrey, and of Warwick: But ere they
come, bid them ore-reade these Letters, And well consider of them: make
good speed. Enter.

How many thousand of my poorest Subiects

Are at this howre asleepe? O Sleepe, O gentle Sleepe, Natures soft
Nurse, how haue I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my
eye-lids downe, And steepe my Sences in Forgetfulnesse?

Why rather (Sleepe) lyest thou in smoakie Cribs, Vpon vneasie Pallads
stretching thee,

And huisht with bussing Night, flyes to thy slumber, Then in the
perfum'd Chambers of the Great? Vnder the Canopies of costly State,

And lull'd with sounds of sweetest Melodie? O thou dull God, why lyest
thou with the vilde, In loathsome Beds, and leau'st the Kingly Couch, A
Watch-case, or a common Larum-Bell?

Wilt thou, vpon the high and giddie Mast, Seale vp the Ship-boyes Eyes,
and rock his Braines, In Cradle of the rude imperious Surge,

And in the visitation of the Windes,

Who take the Ruffian Billowes by the top, Curling their monstrous
heads, and hanging them With deaff'ning Clamors in the slipp'ry Clouds,
That with the hurley, Death it selfe awakes? Canst thou (O partiall
Sleepe) giue thy Repose To the wet Sea-Boy, in an houre so rude:

And in the calmest, and most stillest Night, With all appliances, and
meanes to boote, Deny it to a King? Then happy Lowe, lye downe, Vneasie
lyes the Head, that weares a Crowne. Enter Warwicke and Surrey.

War. Many good-morrowes to your Maiestie

King. Is it good-morrow, Lords?

War. 'Tis One a Clock, and past

King. Why then good-morrow to you all (my Lords:) Haue you read o're
the Letters that I sent you?   War. We haue (my Liege.)

King. Then you perceiue the Body of our Kingdome, How foule it is:
what ranke Diseases grow, And with what danger, neere the Heart of it?
War. It is but as a Body, yet distemper'd, Which to his former strength
may be restor'd, With good aduice, and little Medicine:

My Lord Northumberland will soone be cool'd

King. Oh Heauen, that one might read the Book of Fate, And see the
reuolution of the Times

Make Mountaines leuell, and the Continent (Wearie of solide firmenesse)
melt it selfe Into the Sea: and other Times, to see

The beachie Girdle of the Ocean

Too wide for Neptunes hippes; how Chances mocks And Changes fill the
Cuppe of Alteration

With diuers Liquors. 'Tis not tenne yeeres gone, Since Richard, and
Northumberland, great friends, Did feast together; and in two yeeres
after, Were they at Warres. It is but eight yeeres since, This Percie
was the man, neerest my Soule, Who, like a Brother, toyl'd in my
Affaires, And layd his Loue and Life vnder my foot: Yea, for my sake,
euen to the eyes of Richard Gaue him defiance. But which of you was by
(You Cousin Neuil, as I may remember)

When Richard, with his Eye, brim-full of Teares, (Then check'd, and
rated by Northumberland) Did speake these words (now prou'd a
Prophecie:) Northumberland, thou Ladder, by the which My Cousin
Bullingbrooke ascends my Throne: (Though then, Heauen knowes, I had no
such intent, But that necessitie so bow'd the State,

That I and Greatnesse were compell'd to kisse:) The Time shall come
(thus did hee follow it) The Time will come, that foule Sinne gathering
head, Shall breake into Corruption: so went on, Fore-telling this same
Times Condition,

And the diuision of our Amitie

War. There is a Historie in all mens Liues, Figuring the nature of
the Times deceas'd: The which obseru'd, a man may prophecie

With a neere ayme, of the maine chance of things, As yet not come to
Life, which in their Seedes And weake beginnings lye entreasured:

Such things become the Hatch and Brood of Time; And by the necessarie
forme of this,

King Richard might create a perfect guesse, That great Northumberland,
then false to him, Would of that Seed, grow to a greater falsenesse,
Which should not finde a ground to roote vpon, Vnlesse on you

King. Are these things then Necessities? Then let vs meete them like
Necessities;

And that same word, euen now cryes out on vs: They say, the Bishop and
Northumberland

Are fiftie thousand strong

War. It cannot be (my Lord:)

Rumor doth double, like the Voice, and Eccho, The numbers of the
feared. Please it your Grace To goe to bed, vpon my Life (my Lord)

The Pow'rs that you alreadie haue sent forth, Shall bring this Prize in
very easily.

To comfort you the more, I haue receiu'd

A certaine instance, that Glendour is dead. Your Maiestie hath beene
this fort-night ill, And these vnseason'd howres perforce must adde
Vnto your Sicknesse

King. I will take your counsaile:

And were these inward Warres once out of hand, Wee would (deare Lords)
vnto the Holy-Land.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Shallow and Silence: with Mouldie, Shadow, Wart, Feeble,
Bull-calfe.

Shal. Come-on, come-on, come-on: giue mee your Hand, Sir; giue mee
your Hand, Sir: an early stirrer, by the Rood. And how doth my good
Cousin Silence?   Sil. Good-morrow, good Cousin Shallow

Shal. And how doth my Cousin, your Bed-fellow? and your fairest
Daughter, and mine, my God-Daughter Ellen?

Sil. Alas, a blacke Ouzell (Cousin Shallow.)

Shal. By yea and nay, Sir. I dare say my Cousin William is become a
good Scholler? hee is at Oxford still, is hee not?

Sil. Indeede Sir, to my cost

Shal. Hee must then to the Innes of Court shortly: I was once of
Clements Inne; where (I thinke) they will talke of mad Shallow yet

Sil. You were call'd lustie Shallow then (Cousin.)

Shal. I was call'd any thing: and I would haue done any thing indeede
too, and roundly too. There was I, and little Iohn Doit of
Staffordshire, and blacke George Bare, and Francis Pick-bone, and Will
Squele a Cotsal-man, you had not foure such Swindge-bucklers in all the
Innes of Court againe: And I may say to you, wee knew where the
Bona-Roba's were, and had the best of them all at commandement. Then
was Iacke Falstaffe (now Sir Iohn) a Boy, and Page to Thomas Mowbray,
Duke of Norfolke

Sil. This Sir Iohn (Cousin) that comes hither anon about Souldiers?

Shal. The same Sir Iohn, the very same: I saw him breake Scoggan's
Head at the Court-Gate, when hee was a Crack, not thus high: and the
very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stock-fish, a Fruiterer,
behinde Greyes-Inne. Oh the mad dayes that I haue spent! and to see how
many of mine olde Acquaintance are dead?   Sil. Wee shall all follow
(Cousin.)

Shal. Certaine: 'tis certaine: very sure, very sure: Death is
certaine to all, all shall dye. How a good Yoke of Bullocks at Stamford
Fayre?

Sil. Truly Cousin, I was not there

Shal. Death is certaine. Is old Double of your Towne liuing yet?

Sil. Dead, Sir

Shal. Dead? See, see: hee drew a good Bow: and dead? hee shot a fine
shoote. Iohn of Gaunt loued him well, and betted much Money on his
head. Dead? hee would haue clapt in the Clowt at Twelue-score, and
carryed you a fore-hand Shaft at foureteene, and foureteene and a
halfe, that it would haue done a mans heart good to see. How a score of
Ewes now?

Sil. Thereafter as they be: a score of good Ewes may be worth tenne
pounds

Shal. And is olde Double dead?

Enter Bardolph and his Boy.

Sil. Heere come two of Sir Iohn Falstaffes Men (as I thinke.)

Shal. Good-morrow, honest Gentlemen

Bard. I beseech you, which is Iustice Shallow?   Shal. I am Robert
Shallow (Sir) a poore Esquire of this Countie, and one of the Kings
Iustices of the Peace: What is your good pleasure with me?

Bard. My Captaine (Sir) commends him to you: my Captaine, Sir Iohn
Falstaffe: a tall Gentleman, and a most gallant Leader

Shal. Hee greetes me well: (Sir) I knew him a good Back-Sword-man.
How doth the good Knight? may I aske, how my Lady his Wife doth?

Bard. Sir, pardon: a Souldier is better accommodated, then with a
Wife

Shal. It is well said, Sir; and it is well said, indeede, too:
Better accommodated? it is good, yea indeede is it: good phrases are
surely, and euery where very commendable. Accommodated, it comes of
Accommodo:

very good, a good Phrase

Bard. Pardon, Sir, I haue heard the word. Phrase call you it? by
this Day, I know not the Phrase: but I will maintaine the Word with my
Sword, to bee a Souldier-like Word, and a Word of exceeding good
Command. Accommodated: that is, when a man is (as they say)
accommodated: or, when a man is, being whereby he thought to be
accommodated, which is an excellent thing.

Enter Falstaffe.

Shal. It is very iust: Looke, heere comes good Sir Iohn. Giue me your
hand, giue me your Worships good hand: Trust me, you looke well: and
beare your yeares very well. Welcome, good Sir Iohn

Fal. I am glad to see you well, good M[aster]. Robert Shallow:
Master Sure-card as I thinke?

Shal. No sir Iohn, it is my Cosin Silence: in Commission with mee

Fal. Good M[aster]. Silence, it well befits you should be of the
peace

Sil. Your good Worship is welcome

Fal. Fye, this is hot weather (Gentlemen) haue you prouided me heere
halfe a dozen of sufficient men?   Shal. Marry haue we sir: Will you
sit?

Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you

Shal. Where's the Roll? Where's the Roll? Where's the Roll? Let me
see, let me see, let me see: so, so, so, so: yea marry Sir. Raphe
Mouldie: let them appeare as I call: let them do so, let them do so:
Let mee see, Where is Mouldie?

Moul. Heere, if it please you

Shal. What thinke you (Sir Iohn) a good limb'd fellow: yong, strong,
and of good friends

Fal. Is thy name Mouldie?

Moul. Yea, if it please you

Fal. 'Tis the more time thou wert vs'd

Shal. Ha, ha, ha, most excellent. Things that are mouldie, lacke
vse: very singular good. Well saide Sir Iohn, very well said

Fal. Pricke him

Moul. I was prickt well enough before, if you could haue let me
alone: my old Dame will be vndone now, for one to doe her Husbandry,
and her Drudgery; you need not to haue prickt me, there are other men
fitter to goe out, then I

Fal. Go too: peace Mouldie, you shall goe. Mouldie, it is time you
were spent

Moul. Spent?

Shallow. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside: Know you where you are?
For the other sir Iohn: Let me see: Simon Shadow

Fal. I marry, let me haue him to sit vnder: he's like to be a cold
souldier

Shal. Where's Shadow?

Shad. Heere sir

Fal. Shadow, whose sonne art thou?

Shad. My Mothers sonne, Sir

Falst. Thy Mothers sonne: like enough, and thy Fathers shadow: so
the sonne of the Female, is the shadow of the Male: it is often so
indeede, but not of the Fathers substance

Shal. Do you like him, sir Iohn?

Falst. Shadow will serue for Summer: pricke him: For wee haue a
number of shadowes to fill vppe the Muster-Booke

Shal. Thomas Wart?

Falst. Where's he?

Wart. Heere sir

Falst. Is thy name Wart?

Wart. Yea sir

Fal. Thou art a very ragged Wart

Shal. Shall I pricke him downe,

Sir Iohn?

Falst. It were superfluous: for his apparrel is built vpon his backe,
and the whole frame stands vpon pins: prick him no more

Shal. Ha, ha, ha, you can do it sir: you can doe it: I commend you
well.

Francis Feeble

Feeble. Heere sir

Shal. What Trade art thou Feeble?

Feeble. A Womans Taylor sir

Shal. Shall I pricke him, sir?

Fal. You may:

But if he had beene a mans Taylor, he would haue prick'd you. Wilt thou
make as many holes in an enemies Battaile, as thou hast done in a
Womans petticote?

Feeble. I will doe my good will sir, you can haue no more

Falst. Well said, good Womans Tailour: Well sayde Couragious Feeble:
thou wilt bee as valiant as the wrathfull Doue, or most magnanimous
Mouse. Pricke the womans Taylour well Master Shallow, deepe Maister
Shallow

Feeble. I would Wart might haue gone sir

Fal. I would thou wert a mans Tailor, that y might'st mend him, and
make him fit to goe. I cannot put him to a priuate souldier, that is
the Leader of so many thousands. Let that suffice, most Forcible
Feeble

Feeble. It shall suffice

Falst. I am bound to thee, reuerend Feeble. Who is the next?

Shal. Peter Bulcalfe of the Greene

Falst. Yea marry, let vs see Bulcalfe

Bul. Heere sir

Fal. Trust me, a likely Fellow. Come, pricke me Bulcalfe till he
roare againe

Bul. Oh, good my Lord Captaine

Fal. What? do'st thou roare before th'art prickt

Bul. Oh sir, I am a diseased man

Fal. What disease hast thou?

Bul. A whorson cold sir, a cough sir, which I caught with Ringing in
the Kings affayres, vpon his Coronation day, sir

Fal. Come, thou shalt go to the Warres in a Gowne: we will haue away
thy Cold, and I will take such order, that thy friends shall ring for
thee. Is heere all?   Shal. There is two more called then your number:
you must haue but foure heere sir, and so I pray you go in with me to
dinner

Fal. Come, I will goe drinke with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I
am glad to see you in good troth, Master Shallow

Shal. O sir Iohn, doe you remember since wee lay all night in the
Winde-mill, in S[aint]. Georges Field

Falstaffe. No more of that good Master Shallow: No more of that

Shal. Ha? it was a merry night. And is Iane Nightworke aliue?

Fal. She liues, M[aster]. Shallow

Shal. She neuer could away with me

Fal. Neuer, neuer: she would alwayes say shee could not abide
M[aster]. Shallow

Shal. I could anger her to the heart: shee was then a Bona-Roba.
Doth she hold her owne well

Fal. Old, old, M[aster]. Shallow

Shal. Nay, she must be old, she cannot choose but be old: certaine
shee's old: and had Robin Night-worke, by old Night-worke, before I
came to Clements Inne

Sil. That's fiftie fiue yeeres agoe

Shal. Hah, Cousin Silence, that thou hadst seene that, that this
Knight and I haue seene: hah, Sir Iohn, said I well?

Falst. Wee haue heard the Chymes at mid-night, Master Shallow

Shal. That wee haue, that wee haue; in faith, Sir Iohn, wee haue:
our watch-word was, Hem-Boyes. Come, let's to Dinner; come, let's to
Dinner: Oh the dayes that wee haue seene. Come, come

Bul. Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend, and heere is
foure Harry tenne shillings in French Crownes for you: in very truth,
sir, I had as lief be hang'd sir, as goe: and yet, for mine owne part,
sir, I do not care; but rather, because I am vnwilling, and for mine
owne part, haue a desire to stay with my friends: else, sir, I did not
care, for mine owne part, so much

Bard. Go-too: stand aside

Mould. And good Master Corporall Captaine, for my old Dames sake,
stand my friend: shee hath no body to doe any thing about her, when I
am gone: and she is old, and cannot helpe her selfe: you shall haue
fortie, sir

Bard. Go-too: stand aside

Feeble. I care not, a man can die but once: wee owe a death. I will
neuer beare a base minde: if it be my destinie, so: if it be not, so:
no man is too good to serue his Prince: and let it goe which way it
will, he that dies this yeere, is quit for the next

Bard. Well said, thou art a good fellow

Feeble. Nay, I will beare no base minde

Falst. Come sir, which men shall I haue?   Shal. Foure of which you
please

Bard. Sir, a word with you: I haue three pound, to free Mouldie and
Bull-calfe

Falst. Go-too: well

Shal. Come, sir Iohn, which foure will you haue?   Falst. Doe you
chuse for me

Shal. Marry then, Mouldie, Bull-calfe, Feeble, and Shadow

Falst. Mouldie, and Bull-calfe: for you Mouldie, stay at home, till
you are past seruice: and for your part, Bull-calfe, grow till you come
vnto it: I will none of you

Shal. Sir Iohn, Sir Iohn, doe not your selfe wrong, they are your
likelyest men, and I would haue you seru'd with the best

Falst. Will you tell me (Master Shallow) how to chuse a man? Care I
for the Limbe, the Thewes, the stature, bulke, and bigge assemblance of
a man? giue mee the spirit (Master Shallow.) Where's Wart? you see what
a ragged appearance it is: hee shall charge you, and discharge you,
with the motion of a Pewterers Hammer: come off, and on, swifter then
hee that gibbets on the Brewers Bucket. And this same halfe-fac'd
fellow, Shadow, giue me this man: hee presents no marke to the Enemie,
the foe-man may with as great ayme leuell at the edge of a Pen-knife:
and for a Retrait, how swiftly will this Feeble, the Womans Taylor,
runne off. O, giue me the spare men, and spare me the great ones. Put
me a Calyuer into Warts hand, Bardolph

Bard. Hold Wart, Trauerse: thus, thus, thus

Falst. Come, manage me your Calyuer: so: very well, go-too, very
good, exceeding good. O, giue me alwayes a little, leane, old, chopt,
bald Shot. Well said Wart, thou art a good Scab: hold, there is a
Tester for thee

Shal. Hee is not his Crafts-master, hee doth not doe it right. I
remember at Mile-end-Greene, when I lay at Clements Inne, I was then
Sir Dagonet in Arthurs Show: there was a little quiuer fellow, and hee
would manage you his Peece thus: and hee would about, and about, and
come you in, and come you in: Rah, tah, tah, would hee say, Bownce
would hee say, and away againe would hee goe, and againe would he come:
I shall neuer see such a fellow

Falst. These fellowes will doe well, Master Shallow. Farewell Master
Silence, I will not vse many wordes with you: fare you well, Gentlemen
both: I thanke you: I must a dozen mile to night. Bardolph, giue the
Souldiers Coates

Shal. Sir Iohn, Heauen blesse you, and prosper your Affaires, and
send vs Peace. As you returne, visit my house. Let our old acquaintance
be renewed: peraduenture I will with you to the Court

Falst. I would you would, Master Shallow

Shal. Go-too: I haue spoke at a word. Fare you well.

Enter.

Falst. Fare you well, gentle Gentlemen. On Bardolph, leade the men
away. As I returne, I will fetch off these Iustices: I doe see the
bottome of Iustice Shallow. How subiect wee old men are to this vice of
Lying? This same staru'd Iustice hath done nothing but prate to me of
the wildenesse of his Youth, and the Feates hee hath done about
Turnball-street, and euery third word a Lye, duer pay'd to the hearer,
then the Turkes Tribute. I doe remember him at Clements Inne, like a
man made after Supper, of a Cheese-paring. When hee was naked, hee was,
for all the world, like a forked Radish, with a Head fantastically
caru'd vpon it with a Knife. Hee was so forlorne, that his Dimensions
(to any thicke sight) were inuincible. Hee was the very Genius of
Famine: hee came euer in the rere-ward of the Fashion: And now is this
Vices Dagger become a Squire, and talkes as familiarly of Iohn of
Gaunt, as if hee had beene sworne Brother to him: and Ile be sworne hee
neuer saw him but once in the Tilt-yard, and then he burst his Head,
for crowding among the Marshals men. I saw it, and told Iohn of Gaunt,
hee beat his owne Name, for you might haue truss'd him and all his
Apparrell into an Eele-skinne: the Case of a Treble Hoeboy was a
Mansion for him: a Court: and now hath hee Land, and Beeues. Well, I
will be acquainted with him, if I returne: and it shall goe hard, but I
will make him a Philosophers two Stones to me. If the young Dace be a
Bayt for the old Pike, I see no reason, in the Law of Nature, but I may
snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter the Arch-bishop, Mowbray, Hastings, Westmerland, Coleuile.

Bish. What is this Forrest call'd?

Hast. 'Tis Gaultree Forrest, and't shall please your Grace

Bish. Here stand (my Lords) and send discouerers forth, To know the
numbers of our Enemies

Hast. Wee haue sent forth alreadie

Bish. 'Tis well done.

My Friends, and Brethren (in these great Affaires) I must acquaint you,
that I haue receiu'd New-dated Letters from Northumberland:

Their cold intent, tenure, and substance thus. Here doth hee wish his
Person, with such Powers As might hold sortance with his Qualitie, The
which hee could not leuie: whereupon

Hee is retyr'd, to ripe his growing Fortunes, To Scotland; and
concludes in heartie prayers, That your Attempts may ouer-liue the
hazard, And fearefull meeting of their Opposite

Mow. Thus do the hopes we haue in him, touch ground, And dash
themselues to pieces.

Enter a Messenger.

Hast. Now? what newes?

Mess. West of this Forrest, scarcely off a mile, In goodly forme,
comes on the Enemie:

And by the ground they hide, I iudge their number Vpon, or neere, the
rate of thirtie thousand

Mow. The iust proportion that we gaue them out. Let vs sway-on, and
face them in the field. Enter Westmerland.

Bish. What well-appointed Leader fronts vs here?   Mow. I thinke it
is my Lord of Westmerland

West. Health, and faire greeting from our Generall, The Prince, Lord
Iohn, and Duke of Lancaster

Bish. Say on (my Lord of Westmerland) in peace: What doth concerne
your comming?

West. Then (my Lord)

Vnto your Grace doe I in chiefe addresse

The substance of my Speech. If that Rebellion Came like it selfe, in
base and abiect Routs, Led on by bloodie Youth, guarded with Rage, And
countenanc'd by Boyes, and Beggerie:

I say, if damn'd Commotion so appeare,

In his true, natiue, and most proper shape, You (Reuerend Father, and
these Noble Lords) Had not beene here, to dresse the ougly forme Of
base, and bloodie Insurrection,

With your faire Honors. You, Lord Arch-bishop, Whose Sea is by a Ciuill
Peace maintain'd, Whose Beard, the Siluer Hand of Peace hath touch'd,
Whose Learning, and good Letters, Peace hath tutor'd, Whose white
Inuestments figure Innocence, The Doue, and very blessed Spirit of
Peace. Wherefore doe you so ill translate your selfe, Out of the Speech
of Peace, that beares such grace, Into the harsh and boystrous Tongue
of Warre? Turning your Bookes to Graues, your Inke to Blood, Your
Pennes to Launces, and your Tongue diuine To a lowd Trumpet, and a
Point of Warre

Bish. Wherefore doe I this? so the Question stands. Briefely to this
end: Wee are all diseas'd, And with our surfetting, and wanton howres,
Haue brought our selues into a burning Feuer, And wee must bleede for
it: of which Disease, Our late King Richard (being infected) dy'd. But
(my most Noble Lord of Westmerland)

I take not on me here as a Physician,

Nor doe I, as an Enemie to Peace,

Troope in the Throngs of Militarie men:

But rather shew a while like fearefull Warre, To dyet ranke Mindes,
sicke of happinesse, And purge th' obstructions, which begin to stop
Our very Veines of Life: heare me more plainely. I haue in equall
ballance iustly weigh'd, What wrongs our Arms may do, what wrongs we
suffer, And finde our Griefes heauier then our Offences. Wee see which
way the streame of Time doth runne, And are enforc'd from our most
quiet there, By the rough Torrent of Occasion,

And haue the summarie of all our Griefes

(When time shall serue) to shew in Articles; Which long ere this, wee
offer'd to the King, And might, by no Suit, gayne our Audience: When
wee are wrong'd, and would vnfold our Griefes, Wee are deny'd accesse
vnto his Person,

Euen by those men, that most haue done vs wrong. The dangers of the
dayes but newly gone,

Whose memorie is written on the Earth

With yet appearing blood; and the examples Of euery Minutes instance
(present now)

Hath put vs in these ill-beseeming Armes: Not to breake Peace, or any
Branch of it, But to establish here a Peace indeede,

Concurring both in Name and Qualitie

West. When euer yet was your Appeale deny'd? Wherein haue you beene
galled by the King? What Peere hath beene suborn'd, to grate on you,
That you should seale this lawlesse bloody Booke Of forg'd Rebellion,
with a Seale diuine?   Bish. My Brother generall, the Common-wealth, I
make my Quarrell, in particular

West. There is no neede of any such redresse: Or if there were, it
not belongs to you

Mow. Why not to him in part, and to vs all, That feele the bruizes
of the dayes before, And suffer the Condition of these Times

To lay a heauie and vnequall Hand vpon our Honors?   West. O my good
Lord Mowbray,

Construe the Times to their Necessities,

And you shall say (indeede) it is the Time, And not the King, that doth
you iniuries. Yet for your part, it not appeares to me, Either from the
King, or in the present Time, That you should haue an ynch of any
ground To build a Griefe on: were you not restor'd To all the Duke of
Norfolkes Seignories,

Your Noble, and right well-remembred Fathers?   Mow. What thing, in
Honor, had my Father lost, That need to be reuiu'd, and breath'd in me?
The King that lou'd him, as the State stood then, Was forc'd, perforce
compell'd to banish him: And then, that Henry Bullingbrooke and hee
Being mounted, and both rowsed in their Seates, Their neighing Coursers
daring of the Spurre, Their armed Staues in charge, their Beauers
downe, Their eyes of fire, sparkling through sights of Steele, And the
lowd Trumpet blowing them together: Then, then, when there was nothing
could haue stay'd My Father from the Breast of Bullingbrooke; O, when
the King did throw his Warder downe, (His owne Life hung vpon the
Staffe hee threw) Then threw hee downe himselfe, and all their Liues,
That by Indictment, and by dint of Sword, Haue since mis-carryed vnder
Bullingbrooke

West. You speak (Lord Mowbray) now you know not what. The Earle of
Hereford was reputed then

In England the most valiant Gentleman.

Who knowes, on whom Fortune would then haue smil'd? But if your Father
had beene Victor there, Hee ne're had borne it out of Couentry.

For all the Countrey, in a generall voyce, Cry'd hate vpon him: and all
their prayers, and loue, Were set on Herford, whom they doted on,

And bless'd, and grac'd, and did more then the King. But this is meere
digression from my purpose. Here come I from our Princely Generall,

To know your Griefes; to tell you, from his Grace, That hee will giue
you Audience: and wherein It shall appeare, that your demands are iust,
You shall enioy them, euery thing set off, That might so much as thinke
you Enemies

Mow. But hee hath forc'd vs to compell this Offer, And it proceedes
from Pollicy, not Loue

West. Mowbray, you ouer-weene to take it so: This Offer comes from
Mercy, not from Feare. For loe, within a Ken our Army lyes,

Vpon mine Honor, all too confident

To giue admittance to a thought of feare. Our Battaile is more full of
Names then yours, Our Men more perfect in the vse of Armes, Our Armor
all as strong, our Cause the best; Then Reason will, our hearts should
be as good. Say you not then, our Offer is compell'd

Mow. Well, by my will, wee shall admit no Parley

West. That argues but the shame of your offence: A rotten Case
abides no handling

Hast. Hath the Prince Iohn a full Commission, In very ample vertue
of his Father,

To heare, and absolutely to determine

Of what Conditions wee shall stand vpon?

West. That is intended in the Generals Name: I muse you make so
slight a Question

Bish. Then take (my Lord of Westmerland) this Schedule, For this
containes our generall Grieuances: Each seuerall Article herein
redress'd,

All members of our Cause, both here, and hence, That are insinewed to
this Action,

Acquitted by a true substantiall forme,

And present execution of our wills,

To vs, and to our purposes confin'd,

Wee come within our awfull Banks againe,

And knit our Powers to the Arme of Peace

West. This will I shew the Generall. Please you Lords, In sight of
both our Battailes, wee may meete At either end in peace: which Heauen
so frame, Or to the place of difference call the Swords, Which must
decide it

Bish. My Lord, wee will doe so

Mow. There is a thing within my Bosome tells me, That no Conditions
of our Peace can stand

Hast. Feare you not, that if wee can make our Peace Vpon such large
termes, and so absolute,

As our Conditions shall consist vpon,

Our Peace shall stand as firme as Rockie Mountaines

Mow. I, but our valuation shall be such, That euery slight, and
false-deriued Cause, Yea, euery idle, nice, and wanton Reason, Shall,
to the King, taste of this Action: That were our Royall faiths, Martyrs
in Loue, Wee shall be winnowed with so rough a winde, That euen our
Corne shall seeme as light as Chaffe, And good from bad finde no
partition

Bish. No, no (my Lord) note this: the King is wearie Of daintie, and
such picking Grieuances:

For hee hath found, to end one doubt by Death, Reuiues two greater in
the Heires of Life. And therefore will hee wipe his Tables cleane, And
keepe no Tell-tale to his Memorie,

That may repeat, and Historie his losse,

To new remembrance. For full well hee knowes, Hee cannot so precisely
weede this Land,

As his mis-doubts present occasion:

His foes are so en-rooted with his friends, That plucking to vnfixe an
Enemie,

Hee doth vnfasten so, and shake a friend. So that this Land, like an
offensiue wife, That hath enrag'd him on, to offer strokes, As he is
striking, holds his Infant vp,

And hangs resolu'd Correction in the Arme, That was vprear'd to
execution

Hast. Besides, the King hath wasted all his Rods, On late Offenders,
that he now doth lacke The very Instruments of Chasticement:

So that his power, like to a Fanglesse Lion May offer, but not hold

Bish. 'Tis very true:

And therefore be assur'd (my good Lord Marshal) If we do now make our
attonement well,

Our Peace, will (like a broken Limbe vnited) Grow stronger, for the
breaking

Mow. Be it so:

Heere is return'd my Lord of Westmerland. Enter Westmerland.

West. The Prince is here at hand: pleaseth your Lordship To meet his
Grace, iust distance 'tweene our Armies?   Mow. Your Grace of Yorke, in
heauen's name then forward

Bish. Before, and greet his Grace (my Lord) we come. Enter Prince
Iohn.

Iohn. You are wel encountred here (my cosin Mowbray) Good day to you,
gentle Lord Archbishop,

And so to you Lord Hastings, and to all.

My Lord of Yorke, it better shew'd with you, When that your Flocke
(assembled by the Bell) Encircled you, to heare with reuerence

Your exposition on the holy Text,

Then now to see you heere an Iron man

Chearing a rowt of Rebels with your Drumme, Turning the Word, to Sword;
and Life to death: That man that sits within a Monarches heart, And
ripens in the Sunne-shine of his fauor, Would hee abuse the Countenance
of the King, Alack, what Mischiefes might hee set abroach, In shadow of
such Greatnesse? With you, Lord Bishop, It is euen so. Who hath not
heard it spoken, How deepe you were within the Bookes of Heauen? To vs,
the Speaker in his Parliament;

To vs, th' imagine Voyce of Heauen it selfe: The very Opener, and
Intelligencer,

Betweene the Grace, the Sanctities of Heauen; And our dull workings. O,
who shall beleeue, But you mis-vse the reuerence of your Place, Employ
the Countenance, and Grace of Heauen, As a false Fauorite doth his
Princes Name, In deedes dis-honorable? You haue taken vp, Vnder the
counterfeited Zeale of Heauen,

The Subiects of Heauens Substitute, my Father, And both against the
Peace of Heauen, and him, Haue here vp-swarmed them

Bish. Good my Lord of Lancaster,

I am not here against your Fathers Peace: But (as I told my Lord of
Westmerland)

The Time (mis-order'd) doth in common sence Crowd vs, and crush vs, to
this monstrous Forme, To hold our safetie vp. I sent your Grace The
parcels, and particulars of our Griefe, The which hath been with scorne
shou'd from the Court: Whereon this Hydra-Sonne of Warre is borne,
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleepe, With graunt of our
most iust and right desires; And true Obedience, of this Madnesse
cur'd, Stoope tamely to the foot of Maiestie

Mow. If not, wee readie are to trye our fortunes, To the last man

Hast. And though wee here fall downe,

Wee haue Supplyes, to second our Attempt: If they mis-carry, theirs
shall second them. And so, successe of Mischiefe shall be borne, And
Heire from Heire shall hold this Quarrell vp, Whiles England shall haue
generation

Iohn. You are too shallow (Hastings)

Much too shallow,

To sound the bottome of the after-Times

West. Pleaseth your Grace, to answere them directly, How farre-forth
you doe like their Articles

Iohn. I like them all, and doe allow them well: And sweare here, by
the honor of my blood, My Fathers purposes haue beene mistooke,

And some, about him, haue too lauishly

Wrested his meaning, and Authoritie.

My Lord, these Griefes shall be with speed redrest: Vpon my Life, they
shall. If this may please you, Discharge your Powers vnto their
seuerall Counties, As wee will ours: and here, betweene the Armies,
Let's drinke together friendly, and embrace, That all their eyes may
beare those Tokens home, Of our restored Loue, and Amitie

Bish. I take your Princely word, for these redresses

Iohn. I giue it you, and will maintaine my word: And thereupon I
drinke vnto your Grace

Hast. Goe Captaine, and deliuer to the Armie This newes of Peace:
let them haue pay, and part: I know, it will well please them.

High thee Captaine.

Enter.

Bish. To you, my Noble Lord of Westmerland

West. I pledge your Grace:

And if you knew what paines I haue bestow'd, To breede this present
Peace,

You would drinke freely: but my loue to ye, Shall shew it selfe more
openly hereafter

Bish. I doe not doubt you

West. I am glad of it.

Health to my Lord, and gentle Cousin Mowbray

Mow. You wish me health in very happy season, For I am, on the
sodaine, something ill

Bish. Against ill Chances, men are euer merry, But heauinesse
fore-runnes the good euent

West. Therefore be merry (Cooze) since sodaine sorrow Serues to say
thus: some good thing comes to morrow

Bish. Beleeue me, I am passing light in spirit

Mow. So much the worse, if your owne Rule be true

Iohn. The word of Peace is render'd: hearke how they showt

Mow. This had been chearefull, after Victorie

Bish. A Peace is of the nature of a Conquest: For then both parties
nobly are subdu'd,

And neither partie looser

Iohn. Goe (my Lord)

And let our Army be discharged too:

And good my Lord (so please you) let our Traines March by vs, that wee
may peruse the men

Enter.

Wee should haue coap'd withall

Bish. Goe, good Lord Hastings:

And ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by. Enter.

Iohn. I trust (Lords) wee shall lye to night together. Enter
Westmerland.

Now Cousin, wherefore stands our Army still?   West. The Leaders hauing
charge from you to stand, Will not goe off, vntill they heare you
speake

Iohn. They know their duties.

Enter Hastings.

Hast. Our Army is dispers'd:

Like youthfull Steeres, vnyoak'd, they tooke their course East, West,
North, South: or like a Schoole, broke vp, Each hurryes towards his
home, and sporting place

West. Good tidings (my Lord Hastings) for the which, I doe arrest
thee (Traytor) of high Treason: And you Lord Arch-bishop, and you Lord
Mowbray, Of Capitall Treason, I attach you both

Mow. Is this proceeding iust, and honorable?   West. Is your
Assembly so?

Bish. Will you thus breake your faith?

Iohn. I pawn'd thee none:

I promis'd you redresse of these same Grieuances Whereof you did
complaine; which, by mine Honor, I will performe, with a most Christian
care. But for you (Rebels) looke to taste the due Meet for Rebellion,
and such Acts as yours. Most shallowly did you these Armes commence,
Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence. Strike vp our Drummes,
pursue the scatter'd stray, Heauen, and not wee, haue safely fought to
day. Some guard these Traitors to the Block of Death, Treasons true
Bed, and yeelder vp of breath.

Exeunt.

Enter Falstaffe and Colleuile.

Falst. What's your Name, Sir? of what Condition are you? and of what
place, I pray?

Col. I am a Knight, Sir:

And my Name is Colleuile of the Dale

Falst. Well then, Colleuile is your Name, a Knight is your Degree,
and your Place, the Dale. Colleuile shall still be your Name, a Traytor
your Degree, and the Dungeon your Place, a place deepe enough: so shall
you be still Colleuile of the Dale

Col. Are not you Sir Iohn Falstaffe?

Falst. As good a man as he sir, who ere I am: doe yee yeelde sir, or
shall I sweate for you? if I doe sweate, they are the drops of thy
Louers, and they weep for thy death, therefore rowze vp Feare and
Trembling, and do obseruance to my mercy

Col. I thinke you are Sir Iohn Falstaffe, & in that thought yeeld
me

Fal. I haue a whole Schoole of tongues in this belly of mine, and
not a Tongue of them all, speakes anie other word but my name: and I
had but a belly of any indifferencie, I were simply the most actiue
fellow in Europe: my wombe, my wombe, my wombe vndoes mee. Heere comes
our Generall.

Enter Prince Iohn, and Westmerland.

Iohn. The heat is past, follow no farther now: Call in the Powers,
good Cousin Westmerland. Now Falstaffe, where haue you beene all this
while? When euery thing is ended, then you come. These tardie Tricks of
yours will (on my life) One time, or other, breake some Gallowes back

Falst. I would bee sorry (my Lord) but it should bee thus: I neuer
knew yet, but rebuke and checke was the reward of Valour. Doe you
thinke me a Swallow, an Arrow, or a Bullet? Haue I, in my poore and
olde Motion, the expedition of Thought? I haue speeded hither with the
very extremest ynch of possibilitie. I haue fowndred nine score and
odde Postes: and heere (trauell-tainted as I am) haue, in my pure and
immaculate Valour, taken Sir Iohn Colleuile of the Dale, a most furious
Knight, and valorous Enemie: But what of that? hee saw mee, and
yeelded: that I may iustly say with the hooke-nos'd fellow of Rome, I
came, saw, and ouer-came

Iohn. It was more of his Courtesie, then your deseruing

Falst. I know not: heere hee is, and heere I yeeld him: and I
beseech your Grace, let it be book'd, with the rest of this dayes
deedes; or I sweare, I will haue it in a particular Ballad, with mine
owne Picture on the top of it (Colleuile kissing my foot:) To the which
course, if I be enforc'd, if you do not all shew like gilt two-pences
to me; and I, in the cleare Skie of Fame, o're-shine you as much as the
Full Moone doth the Cynders of the Element (which shew like
Pinnes-heads to her) beleeue not the Word of the Noble: therefore let
mee haue right, and let desert mount

Iohn. Thine's too heauie to mount

Falst. Let it shine then

Iohn. Thine's too thick to shine

Falst. Let it doe something (my good Lord) that may doe me good, and
call it what you will

Iohn. Is thy Name Colleuile?

Col. It is (my Lord.)

Iohn. A famous Rebell art thou, Colleuile

Falst. And a famous true Subiect tooke him

Col. I am (my Lord) but as my Betters are, That led me hither: had
they beene rul'd by me, You should haue wonne them dearer then you
haue

Falst. I know not how they sold themselues, but thou like a kinde
fellow, gau'st thy selfe away; and I thanke thee, for thee.

Enter Westmerland.

Iohn. Haue you left pursuit?

West. Retreat is made, and Execution stay'd

Iohn. Send Colleuile, with his Confederates, To Yorke, to present
Execution.

Blunt, leade him hence, and see you guard him sure.

Exit with Colleuile.

And now dispatch we toward the Court (my Lords) I heare the King, my
Father, is sore sicke. Our Newes shall goe before vs, to his Maiestie,
Which (Cousin) you shall beare, to comfort him: And wee with sober
speede will follow you

Falst. My Lord, I beseech you, giue me leaue to goe through
Gloucestershire: and when you come to Court, stand my good Lord, 'pray,
in your good report

Iohn. Fare you well, Falstaffe: I, in my condition, Shall better
speake of you, then you deserue. Enter.

Falst. I would you had but the wit: 'twere better then your Dukedome.
Good faith, this same young sober-blooded Boy doth not loue me, nor a
man cannot

make him laugh: but that's no maruaile, hee drinkes no Wine. There's
neuer any of these demure Boyes come to any proofe: for thinne Drinke
doth so ouer-coole their blood, and making many Fish-Meales, that they
fall into a kinde of Male Greene-sicknesse: and then, when they marry,
they get Wenches. They are generally Fooles, and Cowards; which some of
vs should be too, but for inflamation. A good Sherris-Sack hath a
two-fold operation in it: it ascends me into the Braine, dryes me there
all the foolish, and dull, and cruddie Vapours, which enuiron it: makes
it apprehensiue, quicke, forgetiue, full of nimble, fierie, and
delectable shapes; which deliuer'd o're to the Voyce, the Tongue, which
is the Birth, becomes excellent Wit. The second propertie of your
excellent Sherris, is, the warming of the Blood: which before (cold,
and setled) left the Liuer white, and pale; which is the Badge of
Pusillanimitie, and Cowardize: but the Sherris warmes it, and makes it
course from the inwards, to the parts extremes: it illuminateth the
Face, which (as a Beacon) giues warning to all the rest of this little
Kingdome (Man) to Arme: and then the Vitall Commoners, and in-land
pettie Spirits, muster me all to their Captaine, the Heart; who great,
and pufft vp with his Retinue, doth any Deed of Courage: and this
Valour comes of Sherris. So, that skill in the Weapon is nothing,
without Sack (for that sets it a-worke:) and Learning, a meere Hoord of
Gold, kept by a Deuill, till Sack commences it, and sets it in act, and
vse. Hereof comes it, that Prince Harry is valiant: for the cold blood
hee did naturally inherite of his Father, hee hath, like leane,
stirrill, and bare Land, manured, husbanded, and tyll'd, with excellent
endeauour of drinking good, and good store of fertile Sherris, that hee
is become very hot, and valiant. If I had a thousand Sonnes, the first
Principle I would teach them, should be to forsweare thinne Potations,
and to addict themselues to Sack.

Enter Bardolph.

How now Bardolph?

Bard. The Armie is discharged all, and gone

Falst. Let them goe: Ile through Gloucestershire, and there will I
visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire: I haue him alreadie tempering
betweene my finger and my thombe, and shortly will I seale with him.
Come away.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter King, Warwicke, Clarence, Gloucester.

King. Now Lords, if Heauen doth giue successefull end To this Debate,
that bleedeth at our doores, Wee will our Youth lead on to higher
Fields, And draw no Swords, but what are sanctify'd. Our Nauie is
addressed, our Power collected, Our Substitutes, in absence, well
inuested, And euery thing lyes leuell to our wish;

Onely wee want a little personall Strength: And pawse vs, till these
Rebels, now a-foot, Come vnderneath the yoake of Gouernment

War. Both which we doubt not, but your Maiestie Shall soone enioy

King. Humphrey (my Sonne of Gloucester) where is the Prince, your
Brother?

Glo. I thinke hee's gone to hunt (my Lord) at Windsor

King. And how accompanied?

Glo. I doe not know (my Lord.)

King. Is not his Brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him?

Glo. No (my good Lord) hee is in presence heere

Clar. What would my Lord, and Father?

King. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence. How chance thou
art not with the Prince, thy Brother? Hee loues thee, and thou do'st
neglect him (Thomas.)

Thou hast a better place in his Affection, Then all thy Brothers:
cherish it (my Boy) And Noble Offices thou may'st effect

Of Mediation (after I am dead)

Betweene his Greatnesse, and thy other Brethren. Therefore omit him
not: blunt not his Loue, Nor loose the good aduantage of his Grace, By
seeming cold, or carelesse of his will. For hee is gracious, if hee be
obseru'd:

Hee hath a Teare for Pitie, and a Hand

Open (as Day) for melting Charitie:

Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, hee's Flint, As humorous as
Winter, and as sudden,

As Flawes congealed in the Spring of day. His temper therefore must be
well obseru'd: Chide him for faults, and doe it reuerently, When you
perceiue his blood enclin'd to mirth: But being moodie, giue him Line,
and scope, Till that his passions (like a Whale on ground) Confound
themselues with working. Learne this Thomas, And thou shalt proue a
shelter to thy friends, A Hoope of Gold, to binde thy Brothers in: That
the vnited Vessell of their Blood

(Mingled with Venome of Suggestion,

As force, perforce, the Age will powre it in) Shall neuer leake, though
it doe worke as strong As Aconitum, or rash Gun-powder

Clar. I shall obserue him with all care, and loue

King. Why art thou not at Windsor with him (Thomas?)   Clar. Hee is
not there to day: hee dines in London

King. And how accompanyed? Canst thou tell that?

Clar. With Pointz, and other his continuall followers

King. Most subiect is the fattest Soyle to Weedes: And hee (the
Noble Image of my Youth)

Is ouer-spread with them: therefore my griefe Stretches it selfe beyond
the howre of death. The blood weepes from my heart, when I doe shape
(In formes imaginarie) th' vnguided Dayes, And rotten Times, that you
shall looke vpon, When I am sleeping with my Ancestors.

For when his head-strong Riot hath no Curbe, When Rage and hot-Blood
are his Counsailors, When Meanes and lauish Manners meete together; Oh,
with what Wings shall his Affections flye Towards fronting Perill, and
oppos'd Decay?   War. My gracious Lord, you looke beyond him quite: The
Prince but studies his Companions,

Like a strange Tongue: wherein, to gaine the Language, 'Tis needfull,
that the most immodest word Be look'd vpon, and learn'd: which once
attayn'd, Your Highnesse knowes, comes to no farther vse, But to be
knowne, and hated. So, like grosse termes, The Prince will, in the
perfectnesse of time, Cast off his followers: and their memorie Shall
as a Patterne, or a Measure, liue,

By which his Grace must mete the liues of others, Turning past-euills
to aduantages

King. 'Tis seldome, when the Bee doth leaue her Combe In the dead
Carrion.

Enter Westmerland.

Who's heere? Westmerland?

West. Health to my Soueraigne, and new happinesse Added to that, that
I am to deliuer.

Prince Iohn, your Sonne, doth kisse your Graces Hand: Mowbray, the
Bishop, Scroope, Hastings, and all, Are brought to the Correction of
your Law. There is not now a Rebels Sword vnsheath'd, But Peace puts
forth her Oliue euery where: The manner how this Action hath beene
borne, Here (at more leysure) may your Highnesse reade, With euery
course, in his particular

King. O Westmerland, thou art a Summer Bird, Which euer in the
haunch of Winter sings

The lifting vp of day.

Enter Harcourt.

Looke, heere's more newes

Harc. From Enemies, Heauen keepe your Maiestie: And when they stand
against you, may they fall, As those that I am come to tell you of.

The Earle Northumberland, and the Lord Bardolfe, With a great Power of
English, and of Scots, Are by the Sherife of Yorkeshire ouerthrowne:
The manner, and true order of the fight,

This Packet (please it you) containes at large

King. And wherefore should these good newes Make me sicke?

Will Fortune neuer come with both hands full, But write her faire words
still in foulest Letters? Shee eyther giues a Stomack, and no Foode,
(Such are the poore, in health) or else a Feast, And takes away the
Stomack (such are the Rich, That haue aboundance, and enioy it not.)

I should reioyce now, at this happy newes, And now my Sight fayles, and
my Braine is giddie. O me, come neere me, now I am much ill

Glo. Comfort your Maiestie

Cla. Oh, my Royall Father

West. My Soueraigne Lord, cheare vp your selfe, looke vp

War. Be patient (Princes) you doe know, these Fits Are with his
Highnesse very ordinarie.

Stand from him, giue him ayre:

Hee'le straight be well

Clar. No, no, hee cannot long hold out: these pangs, Th' incessant
care, and labour of his Minde, Hath wrought the Mure, that should
confine it in, So thinne, that Life lookes through, and will breake
out

Glo. The people feare me: for they doe obserue Vnfather'd Heires,
and loathly Births of Nature: The Seasons change their manners, as the
Yeere Had found some Moneths asleepe, and leap'd them ouer

Clar. The Riuer hath thrice flow'd, no ebbe betweene: And the old
folke (Times doting Chronicles) Say it did so, a little time before

That our great Grand-sire Edward sick'd, and dy'de

War. Speake lower (Princes) for the King recouers

Glo. This Apoplexie will (certaine) be his end

King. I pray you take me vp, and beare me hence Into some other
Chamber: softly 'pray.

Let there be no noyse made (my gentle friends) Vnlesse some dull and
fauourable hand

Will whisper Musicke to my wearie Spirit

War. Call for the Musicke in the other Roome

King. Set me the Crowne vpon my Pillow here

Clar. His eye is hollow, and hee changes much

War. Lesse noyse, lesse noyse.

Enter Prince Henry.

P.Hen. Who saw the Duke of Clarence?

Clar. I am here (Brother) full of heauinesse

P.Hen. How now? Raine within doores, and none abroad? How doth the
King?

Glo. Exceeding ill

P.Hen. Heard hee the good newes yet?

Tell it him

Glo. Hee alter'd much, vpon the hearing it

P.Hen. If hee be sicke with Ioy,

Hee'le recouer without Physicke

War. Not so much noyse (my Lords)

Sweet Prince speake lowe,

The King, your Father, is dispos'd to sleepe

Clar. Let vs with-draw into the other Roome

War. Wil't please your Grace to goe along with vs?   P.Hen. No: I
will sit, and watch here, by the King. Why doth the Crowne lye there,
vpon his Pillow, Being so troublesome a Bed-fellow?

O pollish'd Perturbation! Golden Care!

That keep'st the Ports of Slumber open wide, To many a watchfull Night:
sleepe with it now, Yet not so sound, and halfe so deepely sweete, As
hee whose Brow (with homely Biggen bound) Snores out the Watch of
Night. O Maiestie! When thou do'st pinch thy Bearer, thou do'st sit
Like a rich Armor, worne in heat of day,

That scald'st with safetie: by his Gates of breath, There lyes a
dowlney feather, which stirres not: Did hee suspire, that light and
weightlesse dowlne Perforce must moue. My gracious Lord, my Father,
This sleepe is sound indeede: this is a sleepe, That from this Golden
Rigoll hath diuorc'd So many English Kings. Thy due, from me,

Is Teares, and heauie Sorrowes of the Blood, Which Nature, Loue, and
filiall tendernesse, Shall (O deare Father) pay thee plenteously. My
due, from thee, is this Imperiall Crowne, Which (as immediate from thy
Place, and Blood) Deriues it selfe to me. Loe, heere it sits, Which
Heauen shall guard:

And put the worlds whole strength into one gyant Arme, It shall not
force this Lineall Honor from me. This, from thee, will I to mine
leaue,

As 'tis left to me.

Enter.

Enter Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence.

King. Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence

Clar. Doth the King call?

War. What would your Maiestie? how fares your Grace?

King. Why did you leaue me here alone (my Lords?)   Cla. We left the
Prince (my Brother) here (my Liege) Who vndertooke to sit and watch by
you

King. The Prince of Wales? where is hee? let mee see him

War. This doore is open, hee is gone this way

Glo. Hee came not through the Chamber where wee stayd

King. Where is the Crowne? who tooke it from my Pillow?

War. When wee with-drew (my Liege) wee left it heere

King. The Prince hath ta'ne it hence:

Goe seeke him out.

Is hee so hastie, that hee doth suppose

My sleepe, my death? Finde him (my Lord of Warwick) Chide him hither:
this part of his conioynes With my disease, and helpes to end me.

See Sonnes, what things you are:

How quickly Nature falls into reuolt,

When Gold becomes her Obiect?

For this, the foolish ouer-carefull Fathers Haue broke their sleepes
with thoughts,

Their braines with care, their bones with industry. For this, they haue
ingrossed and pyl'd vp The canker'd heapes of strange-atchieued Gold:
For this, they haue beene thoughtfull, to inuest Their Sonnes with
Arts, and Martiall Exercises: When, like the Bee, culling from euery
flower The vertuous Sweetes, our Thighes packt with Wax, Our Mouthes
with Honey, wee bring it to the Hiue; And like the Bees, are murthered
for our paines. This bitter taste yeelds his engrossements, To the
ending Father.

Enter Warwicke.

Now, where is hee, that will not stay so long, Till his Friend
Sicknesse hath determin'd me?   War. My Lord, I found the Prince in the
next Roome, Washing with kindly Teares his gentle Cheekes, With such a
deepe demeanure, in great sorrow, That Tyranny, which neuer quafft but
blood, Would (by beholding him) haue wash'd his Knife With gentle
eye-drops. Hee is comming hither

King. But wherefore did hee take away the Crowne? Enter Prince
Henry.

Loe, where hee comes. Come hither to me (Harry.)

Depart the Chamber, leaue vs heere alone. Enter.

P.Hen. I neuer thought to heare you speake againe

King. Thy wish was Father (Harry) to that thought: I stay too long
by thee, I wearie thee.

Do'st thou so hunger for my emptie Chayre, That thou wilt needes inuest
thee with mine Honors, Before thy howre be ripe? O foolish Youth! Thou
seek'st the Greatnesse, that will ouer-whelme thee. Stay but a little:
for my Cloud of Dignitie Is held from falling, with so weake a winde,
That it will quickly drop: my Day is dimme. Thou hast stolne that,
which after some few howres Were thine, without offence: and at my
death Thou hast seal'd vp my expectation.

Thy Life did manifest, thou lou'dst me not, And thou wilt haue me dye
assur'd of it.

Thou hid'st a thousand Daggers in thy thoughts, Which thou hast whetted
on thy stonie heart, To stab at halfe an howre of my Life.

What? canst thou not forbeare me halfe an howre? Then get thee gone,
and digge my graue thy selfe, And bid the merry Bels ring to thy eare

That thou art Crowned, not that I am dead. Let all the Teares, that
should bedew my Hearse Be drops of Balme, to sanctifie thy head: Onely
compound me with forgotten dust.

Giue that, which gaue thee life, vnto the Wormes: Plucke downe my
Officers, breake my Decrees; For now a time is come, to mocke at Forme.
Henry the fift is Crown'd: Vp Vanity,

Downe Royall State: All you sage Counsailors, hence: And to the English
Court, assemble now

From eu'ry Region, Apes of Idlenesse.

Now neighbor-Confines, purge you of your Scum: Haue you a Ruffian that
will sweare? drinke? dance? Reuell the night? Rob? Murder? and commit
The oldest sinnes, the newest kinde of wayes? Be happy, he will trouble
you no more:

England, shall double gill'd, his trebble guilt. England, shall giue
him Office, Honor, Might: For the Fift Harry, from curb'd License
pluckes The muzzle of Restraint; and the wilde Dogge Shall flesh his
tooth in euery Innocent.

O my poore Kingdome (sicke, with ciuill blowes) When that my Care could
not with-hold thy Ryots, What wilt thou do, when Ryot is thy Care? O,
thou wilt be a Wildernesse againe,

Peopled with Wolues (thy old Inhabitants.)

Prince. O pardon me (my Liege)

But for my Teares,

The most Impediments vnto my Speech,

I had fore-stall'd this deere, and deepe Rebuke, Ere you (with greefe)
had spoke, and I had heard The course of it so farre. There is your
Crowne, And he that weares the Crowne immortally, Long guard it yours.
If I affect it more, Then as your Honour, and as your Renowne, Let me
no more from this Obedience rise,

Which my most true, and inward duteous Spirit Teacheth this prostrate,
and exteriour bending. Heauen witnesse with me, when I heere came in,
And found no course of breath within your Maiestie, How cold it strooke
my heart. If I do faine, O let me, in my present wildenesse, dye,

And neuer liue, to shew th' incredulous World, The Noble change that I
haue purposed.

Comming to looke on you, thinking you dead, (And dead almost (my Liege)
to thinke you were) I spake vnto the Crowne (as hauing sense) And thus
vpbraided it. The Care on thee depending, Hath fed vpon the body of my
Father,

Therefore, thou best of Gold, art worst of Gold. Other, lesse fine in
Charract, is more precious, Preseruing life, in Med'cine potable:

But thou, most Fine, most Honour'd, most Renown'd, Hast eate the Bearer
vp.

Thus (my Royall Liege)

Accusing it, I put it on my Head,

To try with it (as with an Enemie,

That had before my face murdred my Father) The Quarrell of a true
Inheritor.

But if it did infect my blood with Ioy,

Or swell my Thoughts, to any straine of Pride, If any Rebell, or vaine
spirit of mine,

Did, with the least Affection of a Welcome, Giue entertainment to the
might of it,

Let heauen, for euer, keepe it from my head, And make me, as the
poorest Vassaile is,

That doth with awe, and terror kneele to it

King. O my Sonne!

Heauen put it in thy minde to take it hence, That thou might'st ioyne
the more, thy Fathers loue, Pleading so wisely, in excuse of it.

Come hither Harrie, sit thou by my bedde, And heare (I thinke, the very
latest Counsell That euer I shall breath: Heauen knowes, my Sonne) By
what by-pathes, and indirect crook'd-wayes I met this Crowne: and I my
selfe know well How troublesome it sate vpon my head.

To thee, it shall descend with better Quiet, Better Opinion, better
Confirmation:

For all the soyle of the Atchieuement goes With me, into the Earth. It
seem'd in mee, But as an Honour snatch'd with boyst'rous hand, And I
had many liuing, to vpbraide

My gaine of it, by their Assistances,

Which dayly grew to Quarrell, and to Blood-shed, Wounding supposed
Peace.

All these bold Feares,

Thou seest (with perill) I haue answered: For all my Reigne, hath beene
but as a Scene Acting that argument. And now my death

Changes the Moode: For what in me, was purchas'd, Falles vpon thee, in
a more Fayrer sort.

So thou, the Garland wear'st successiuely. Yet, though thou stand'st
more sure, then I could do, Thou art not firme enough, since greefes
are greene: And all thy Friends, which thou must make thy Friends Haue
but their stings, and teeth, newly tak'n out, By whose fell working, I
was first aduanc'd, And by whose power, I well might lodge a Feare To
be againe displac'd. Which to auoyd,

I cut them off: and had a purpose now

To leade out many to the Holy Land;

Least rest, and lying still, might make them looke Too neere vnto my
State.

Therefore (my Harrie)

Be it thy course to busie giddy Mindes

With Forraigne Quarrels: that Action hence borne out, May waste the
memory of the former dayes. More would I, but my Lungs are wasted so,
That strength of Speech it vtterly deni'de mee. How I came by the
Crowne, O heauen forgiue: And grant it may, with thee, in true peace
liue

Prince. My gracious Liege:

You wonne it, wore it: kept it, gaue it me, Then plaine and right must
my possession be; Which I, with more, then with a Common paine, 'Gainst
all the World, will rightfully maintaine. Enter Lord Iohn of Lancaster,
and Warwicke.

King. Looke, looke,

Heere comes my Iohn of Lancaster:

Iohn. Health, Peace, and Happinesse,

To my Royall Father

King. Thou bring'st me happinesse and Peace (Sonne Iohn:)

But health (alacke) with youthfull wings is flowne From this bare,
wither'd Trunke. Vpon thy sight My worldly businesse makes a period.

Where is my Lord of Warwicke?

Prin. My Lord of Warwicke

King. Doth any name particular, belong Vnto the Lodging, where I
first did swoon'd?   War. 'Tis call'd Ierusalem, my Noble Lord

King. Laud be to heauen:

Euen there my life must end.

It hath beene prophesi'de to me many yeares, I should not dye, but in
Ierusalem:

Which (vainly) I suppos'd the Holy-Land.

But beare me to that Chamber, there Ile lye: In that Ierusalem, shall
Harry dye.

Exeunt.



Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Shallow, Silence, Falstaffe, Bardolfe, Page, and Dauie.

Shal. By Cocke and Pye, you shall not away to night. What Dauy, I
say

Fal. You must excuse me, M[aster]. Robert Shallow

Shal. I will not excuse you: you shall not be excused. Excuses shall
not be admitted: there is no excuse shall serue: you shall not be
excus'd.

Why Dauie

Dauie. Heere sir

Shal. Dauy, Dauy, Dauy, let me see (Dauy) let me see: William Cooke,
bid him come hither. Sir Iohn, you shal not be excus'd

Dauy. Marry sir, thus: those Precepts cannot bee seru'd: and againe
sir, shall we sowe the head-land with Wheate?

Shal. With red Wheate Dauy. But for William Cook: are there no yong
Pigeons?

Dauy. Yes Sir.

Heere is now the Smithes note, for Shooing, And Plough-Irons

Shal. Let it be cast, and payde: Sir Iohn, you shall not be excus'd

Dauy. Sir, a new linke to the Bucket must needes bee had: And Sir,
doe you meane to stoppe any of Williams Wages, about the Sacke he lost
the other day, at Hinckley Fayre?

Shal. He shall answer it:

Some Pigeons Dauy, a couple of short-legg'd Hennes: a ioynt of Mutton,
and any pretty little tine Kickshawes, tell William Cooke

Dauy. Doth the man of Warre, stay all night sir?   Shal. Yes Dauy:

I will vse him well. A Friend i'th Court, is better then a penny in
purse. Vse his men well Dauy, for they are arrant Knaues, and will
backe-bite

Dauy. No worse then they are bitten, sir: For they haue maruellous
fowle linnen

Shallow. Well conceited Dauy: about thy Businesse, Dauy

Dauy. I beseech you sir,

To countenance William Visor of Woncot, against Clement Perkes of the
hill

Shal. There are many Complaints Dauy, against that Visor, that Visor
is an arrant Knaue, on my knowledge

Dauy. I graunt your Worship, that he is a knaue (Sir:) But yet
heauen forbid Sir, but a Knaue should haue some Countenance, at his
Friends request. An honest man sir, is able to speake for himselfe,
when a Knaue is not. I haue seru'd your Worshippe truely sir, these
eight yeares: and if I cannot once or twice in a Quarter beare out a
knaue, against an honest man, I haue but a very litle credite with your
Worshippe. The Knaue is mine honest Friend Sir, therefore I beseech
your Worship, let him bee Countenanc'd

Shal. Go too,

I say he shall haue no wrong: Looke about Dauy. Where are you Sir Iohn?
Come, off with your Boots. Giue me your hand M[aster]. Bardolfe

Bard. I am glad to see your Worship

Shal. I thanke thee, with all my heart, kinde Master Bardolfe: and
welcome my tall Fellow:

Come Sir Iohn

Falstaffe. Ile follow you, good Master Robert Shallow. Bardolfe,
looke to our Horsses. If I were saw'de into Quantities, I should make
foure dozen of such bearded Hermites staues, as Master Shallow. It is a
wonderfull thing to see the semblable Coherence of his mens spirits,
and his: They, by obseruing of him, do beare themselues like foolish
Iustices: Hee, by conuersing with them, is turn'd into a Iustice-like
Seruingman. Their spirits are so married in Coniunction, with the
participation of Society, that they flocke together in consent, like so
many Wilde-Geese. If I had a suite to Mayster Shallow, I would humour
his men, with the imputation of beeing neere their Mayster. If to his
Men, I would currie with Maister Shallow, that no man could better
command his Seruants. It is certaine, that either wise bearing, or
ignorant Carriage is caught, as men take diseases, one of another:
therefore, let men take heede of their Companie. I will deuise matter
enough out of this Shallow, to keepe Prince Harry in continuall
Laughter, the wearing out of sixe Fashions (which is foure Tearmes) or
two Actions, and he shall laugh with Interuallums. O it is much that a
Lye (with a slight Oath) and a iest (with a sadde brow) will doe, with
a Fellow, that neuer had the Ache in his shoulders. O you shall see him
laugh, till his Face be like a wet Cloake, ill laid vp

Shal. Sir Iohn

Falst. I come Master Shallow, I come Master Shallow.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.



Enter the Earle of Warwicke, and the Lord Chiefe Iustice.

Warwicke. How now, my Lord Chiefe Iustice, whether away?

Ch.Iust. How doth the King?

Warw. Exceeding well: his Cares

Are now, all ended

Ch.Iust. I hope, not dead

Warw. Hee's walk'd the way of Nature,

And to our purposes, he liues no more

Ch.Iust. I would his Maiesty had call'd me with him, The seruice,
that I truly did his life,

Hath left me open to all iniuries

War. Indeed I thinke the yong King loues you not

Ch.Iust. I know he doth not, and do arme my selfe To welcome the
condition of the Time,

Which cannot looke more hideously vpon me, Then I haue drawne it in my
fantasie.

Enter Iohn of Lancaster, Gloucester, and Clarence.

War. Heere come the heauy Issue of dead Harrie: O, that the liuing
Harrie had the temper

Of him, the worst of these three Gentlemen: How many Nobles then,
should hold their places, That must strike saile, to Spirits of vilde
sort?   Ch.Iust. Alas, I feare, all will be ouer-turn'd

Iohn. Good morrow Cosin Warwick, good morrow

Glou. Cla. Good morrow, Cosin

Iohn. We meet, like men, that had forgot to speake

War. We do remember: but our Argument

Is all too heauy, to admit much talke

Ioh. Well: Peace be with him, that hath made vs heauy   Ch.Iust.
Peace be with vs, least we be heauier

Glou. O, good my Lord, you haue lost a friend indeed: And I dare
sweare, you borrow not that face Of seeming sorrow, it is sure your
owne

Iohn. Though no man be assur'd what grace to finde, You stand in
coldest expectation.

I am the sorrier, would 'twere otherwise

Cla. Wel, you must now speake Sir Iohn Falstaffe faire, Which
swimmes against your streame of Quality

Ch.Iust. Sweet Princes: what I did, I did in Honor, Led by th'
Imperiall Conduct of my Soule, And neuer shall you see, that I will
begge A ragged, and fore-stall'd Remission.

If Troth, and vpright Innocency fayle me, Ile to the King (my Master)
that is dead, And tell him, who hath sent me after him

War. Heere comes the Prince.

Enter Prince Henrie.

Ch.Iust. Good morrow: and heauen saue your Maiesty   Prince. This
new, and gorgeous Garment, Maiesty, Sits not so easie on me, as you
thinke.

Brothers, you mixe your Sadnesse with some Feare: This is the English,
not the Turkish Court: Not Amurah, an Amurah succeeds,

But Harry, Harry: Yet be sad (good Brothers) For (to speake truth) it
very well becomes you: Sorrow, so Royally in you appeares,

That I will deeply put the Fashion on,

And weare it in my heart. Why then be sad, But entertaine no more of it
(good Brothers) Then a ioynt burthen, laid vpon vs all.

For me, by Heauen (I bid you be assur'd)

Ile be your Father, and your Brother too: Let me but beare your Loue,
Ile beare your Cares; But weepe that Harrie's dead, and so will I. But
Harry liues, that shall conuert those Teares By number, into houres of
Happinesse

Iohn, &c. We hope no other from your Maiesty

Prin. You all looke strangely on me: and you most, You are (I
thinke) assur'd, I loue you not

Ch.Iust. I am assur'd (if I be measur'd rightly) Your Maiesty hath
no iust cause to hate mee

Pr. No? How might a Prince of my great hopes forget So great
Indignities you laid vpon me?

What? Rate? Rebuke? and roughly send to Prison Th' immediate Heire of
England? Was this easie? May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten?
Ch.Iust. I then did vse the Person of your Father: The Image of his
power, lay then in me,

And in th' administration of his Law,

Whiles I was busie for the Commonwealth,

Your Highnesse pleased to forget my place, The Maiesty, and power of
Law, and Iustice, The Image of the King, whom I presented,

And strooke me in my very Seate of Iudgement: Whereon (as an Offender
to your Father)

I gaue bold way to my Authority,

And did commit you. If the deed were ill, Be you contented, wearing now
the Garland, To haue a Sonne, set your Decrees at naught? To plucke
downe Iustice from your awefull Bench? To trip the course of Law, and
blunt the Sword That guards the peace, and safety of your Person? Nay
more, to spurne at your most Royall Image, And mocke your workings, in
a Second body? Question your Royall Thoughts, make the case yours: Be
now the Father, and propose a Sonne:

Heare your owne dignity so much prophan'd, See your most dreadfull
Lawes, so loosely slighted; Behold your selfe, so by a Sonne disdained:
And then imagine me, taking your part,

And in your power, soft silencing your Sonne: After this cold
considerance, sentence me; And, as you are a King, speake in your
State, What I haue done, that misbecame my place, My person, or my
Lieges Soueraigntie

Prin. You are right Iustice, and you weigh this well: Therefore
still beare the Ballance, and the Sword: And I do wish your Honors may
encrease,

Till you do liue, to see a Sonne of mine

Offend you, and obey you, as I did.

So shall I liue, to speake my Fathers words: Happy am I, that haue a
man so bold,

That dares do Iustice, on my proper Sonne; And no lesse happy, hauing
such a Sonne,

That would deliuer vp his Greatnesse so,

Into the hands of Iustice. You did commit me: For which, I do commit
into your hand,

Th' vnstained Sword that you haue vs'd to beare: With this Remembrance;
That you vse the same With the like bold, iust, and impartiall spirit
As you haue done 'gainst me. There is my hand, You shall be as a
Father, to my Youth:

My voice shall sound, as you do prompt mine eare, And I will stoope,
and humble my Intents, To your well-practis'd, wise Directions.

And Princes all, beleeue me, I beseech you: My Father is gone wilde
into his Graue,

(For in his Tombe, lye my Affections)

And with his Spirits, sadly I suruiue,

To mocke the expectation of the World;

To frustrate Prophesies, and to race out

Rotten Opinion, who hath writ me downe

After my seeming. The Tide of Blood in me, Hath prowdly flow'd in
Vanity, till now.

Now doth it turne, and ebbe backe to the Sea, Where it shall mingle
with the state of Floods, And flow henceforth in formall Maiesty.

Now call we our High Court of Parliament, And let vs choose such Limbes
of Noble Counsaile, That the great Body of our State may go

In equall ranke, with the best gouern'd Nation, That Warre, or Peace,
or both at once may be As things acquainted and familiar to vs,

In which you (Father) shall haue formost hand. Our Coronation done, we
will accite

(As I before remembred) all our State,

And heauen (consigning to my good intents) No Prince, nor Peere, shall
haue iust cause to say, Heauen shorten Harries happy life, one day.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Falstaffe, Shallow, Silence, Bardolfe, Page, and Pistoll.

Shal. Nay, you shall see mine Orchard: where, in an Arbor we will
eate a last yeares Pippin of my owne graffing, with a dish of
Carrawayes, and so forth. (Come Cosin Silence, and then to bed

Fal. You haue heere a goodly dwelling, and a rich

Shal. Barren, barren, barren: Beggers all, beggers all Sir Iohn:
Marry, good ayre. Spread Dauy, spread Dauie: Well said Dauie

Falst. This Dauie serues you for good vses: he is your Seruingman,
and your Husband

Shal. A good Varlet, a good Varlet, a very good Varlet, Sir Iohn: I
haue drunke too much Sacke at Supper. A good Varlet. Now sit downe, now
sit downe: Come Cosin

Sil. Ah sirra (quoth-a) we shall doe nothing but eate, and make good
cheere, and praise heauen for the merrie yeere: when flesh is cheape,
and Females deere, and lustie Lads rome heere, and there: so merrily,
and euer among so merrily

Fal. There's a merry heart, good M[aster]. Silence, Ile giue you a
health for that anon

Shal. Good M[aster]. Bardolfe: some wine, Dauie

Da. Sweet sir, sit: Ile be with you anon: most sweete sir, sit.
Master Page, good M[aster]. Page, sit: Proface. What you want in meate,
wee'l haue in drinke: but you beare, the heart's all

Shal. Be merry M[aster]. Bardolfe, and my little Souldiour there, be
merry

Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wife ha's all. For women are Shrewes,
both short, and tall: 'Tis merry in Hall, when Beards wagge all; And
welcome merry Shrouetide. Be merry, be merry

Fal. I did not thinke M[aster]. Silence had bin a man of this
Mettle

Sil. Who I? I haue beene merry twice and once, ere now

Dauy. There is a dish of Lether-coats for you

Shal. Dauie

Dau. Your Worship: Ile be with you straight. A cup of Wine, sir?

Sil. A Cup of Wine, that's briske and fine, & drinke vnto the Leman
mine: and a merry heart liues long-a

Fal. Well said, M[aster]. Silence

Sil. If we shall be merry, now comes in the sweete of the night

Fal. Health, and long life to you, M[aster]. Silence

Sil. Fill the Cuppe, and let it come. Ile pledge you a mile to the
bottome

Shal. Honest Bardolfe, welcome: If thou want'st any thing, and wilt
not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome my little tyne theefe, and welcome
indeed too: Ile drinke to M[aster]. Bardolfe, and to all the Cauileroes
about London

Dau. I hope to see London, once ere I die

Bar. If I might see you there, Dauie

Shal. You'l cracke a quart together? Ha, will you not M[aster].
Bardolfe?

Bar. Yes Sir, in a pottle pot

Shal. I thanke thee: the knaue will sticke by thee, I can assure
thee that. He will not out, he is true bred

Bar. And Ile sticke by him, sir

Shal. Why there spoke a King: lack nothing, be merry. Looke, who's
at doore there, ho: who knockes?   Fal. Why now you haue done me right

Sil. Do me right, and dub me Knight, Samingo. Is't not so?

Fal. 'Tis so

Sil. Is't so? Why then say an old man can do somwhat

Dau. If it please your Worshippe, there's one Pistoll come from the
Court with newes

Fal. From the Court? Let him come in.

Enter Pistoll.

How now Pistoll?

Pist. Sir Iohn, 'saue you sir

Fal. What winde blew you hither, Pistoll?   Pist. Not the ill winde
which blowes none to good, sweet Knight: Thou art now one of the
greatest men in the Realme

Sil. Indeed, I thinke he bee, but Goodman Puffe of Barson

Pist. Puffe? puffe in thy teeth, most recreant Coward base. Sir
Iohn, I am thy Pistoll, and thy Friend: helter skelter haue I rode to
thee, and tydings do I bring, and luckie ioyes, and golden Times, and
happie Newes of price

Fal. I prethee now deliuer them, like a man of this World

Pist. A footra for the World, and Worldlings base, I speake of
Affrica, and Golden ioyes

Fal. O base Assyrian Knight, what is thy newes? Let King Couitha
know the truth thereof

Sil. And Robin-hood, Scarlet, and Iohn

Pist. Shall dunghill Curres confront the Hellicons? And shall good
newes be baffel'd?

Then Pistoll lay thy head in Furies lappe

Shal. Honest Gentleman,

I know not your breeding

Pist. Why then Lament therefore

Shal. Giue me pardon, Sir.

If sir, you come with news from the Court, I take it, there is but two
wayes, either to vtter them, or to conceale them. I am Sir, vnder the
King, in some Authority

Pist. Vnder which King?

Bezonian, speake, or dye

Shal. Vnder King Harry

Pist. Harry the Fourth? or Fift?

Shal. Harry the Fourth

Pist. A footra for thine Office.

Sir Iohn, thy tender Lamb-kinne, now is King, Harry the Fift's the man,
I speake the truth. When Pistoll lyes, do this, and figge-me, like The
bragging Spaniard

Fal. What, is the old King dead?

Pist. As naile in doore.

The things I speake, are iust

Fal. Away Bardolfe, Sadle my Horse,

Master Robert Shallow, choose what Office thou wilt In the Land, 'tis
thine. Pistol, I will double charge thee With Dignities

Bard. O ioyfull day:

I would not take a Knighthood for my Fortune

Pist. What? I do bring good newes

Fal. Carrie Master Silence to bed: Master Shallow, my Lord Shallow,
be what thou wilt, I am Fortunes Steward. Get on thy Boots, wee'l ride
all night. Oh sweet Pistoll: Away Bardolfe: Come Pistoll, vtter more to
mee: and withall deuise something to do thy selfe good. Boote, boote
Master Shallow, I know the young King is sick for mee. Let vs take any
mans Horsses: The Lawes of England are at my command'ment. Happie are
they, which haue beene my Friendes: and woe vnto my Lord Chiefe
Iustice

Pist. Let Vultures vil'de seize on his Lungs also: Where is the life
that late I led, say they? Why heere it is, welcome those pleasant
dayes.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Hostesse Quickly, Dol Teare-sheete, and Beadles.

Hostesse. No, thou arrant knaue: I would I might dy, that I might
haue thee hang'd: Thou hast drawne my shoulder out of ioynt

Off. The Constables haue deliuer'd her ouer to mee: and shee shall
haue Whipping cheere enough, I warrant her. There hath beene a man or
two (lately) kill'd about her

Dol. Nut-hooke, nut-hooke, you Lye: Come on, Ile tell thee what,
thou damn'd Tripe-visag'd Rascall, if the Childe I now go with, do
miscarrie, thou had'st better thou had'st strooke thy Mother, thou
Paper-fac'd Villaine

Host. O that Sir Iohn were come, hee would make this a bloody day to
some body. But I would the Fruite of her Wombe might miscarry

Officer. If it do, you shall haue a dozen of Cushions againe, you
haue but eleuen now. Come, I charge you both go with me: for the man is
dead, that you and Pistoll beate among you

Dol. Ile tell thee what, thou thin man in a Censor; I will haue you
as soundly swindg'd for this, you blewBottel'd Rogue: you filthy
famish'd Correctioner, if you be not swing'd, Ile forsweare halfe
Kirtles

Off. Come, come, you shee-Knight-arrant, come

Host. O, that right should thus o'recome might. Wel of sufferance,
comes ease

Dol. Come you Rogue, come:

Bring me to a Iustice

Host. Yes, come you staru'd Blood-hound

Dol. Goodman death, goodman Bones

Host. Thou Anatomy, thou

Dol. Come you thinne Thing:

Come you Rascall

Off. Very well.

Exeunt.



Scena Quinta.

Enter two Groomes.

1.Groo. More Rushes, more Rushes

2.Groo. The Trumpets haue sounded twice

1.Groo. It will be two of the Clocke, ere they come from the
Coronation.

Exit Groo.

Enter Falstaffe, Shallow, Pistoll, Bardolfe, and Page.

Falstaffe. Stand heere by me, M[aster]. Robert Shallow, I will make
the King do you Grace. I will leere vpon him, as he comes by: and do
but marke the countenance that hee will giue me

Pistol. Blesse thy Lungs, good Knight

Falst. Come heere Pistol, stand behind me. O if I had had time to
haue made new Liueries, I would haue bestowed the thousand pound I
borrowed of you. But it is no matter, this poore shew doth better: this
doth inferre the zeale I had to see him

Shal. It doth so

Falst. It shewes my earnestnesse in affection

Pist. It doth so

Fal. My deuotion

Pist. It doth, it doth, it doth

Fal. As it were, to ride day and night, And not to deliberate, not
to remember,

Not to haue patience to shift me

Shal. It is most certaine

Fal. But to stand stained with Trauaile, and sweating with desire to
see him, thinking of nothing else, putting all affayres in obliuion, as
if there were nothing els to bee done, but to see him

Pist. 'Tis semper idem: for obsque hoc nihil est. 'Tis all in euery
part

Shal. 'Tis so indeed

Pist. My Knight, I will enflame thy Noble Liuer, and make thee rage.
Thy Dol, and Helen of thy noble thoghts is in base Durance, and
contagious prison: Hall'd thither by most Mechanicall and durty hand.
Rowze vppe Reuenge from Ebon den, with fell Alecto's Snake, for Dol is
in. Pistol, speakes nought but troth

Fal. I will deliuer her

Pistol. There roar'd the Sea: and Trumpet Clangour sounds.

The Trumpets sound. Enter King Henrie the Fift, Brothers, Lord Chiefe

Iustice.

Falst. Saue thy Grace, King Hall, my Royall Hall

Pist. The heauens thee guard, and keepe, most royall Impe of Fame

Fal. 'Saue thee my sweet Boy

King. My Lord Chiefe Iustice, speake to that vaine man

Ch.Iust. Haue you your wits?

Know you what 'tis you speake?

Falst. My King, my Ioue; I speake to thee, my heart

King. I know thee not, old man: Fall to thy Prayers: How ill white
haires become a Foole, and Iester? I haue long dream'd of such a kinde
of man, So surfeit-swell'd, so old, and so prophane: But being awake, I
do despise my dreame.

Make lesse thy body (hence) and more thy Grace, Leaue gourmandizing;
Know the Graue doth gape For thee, thrice wider then for other men.
Reply not to me, with a Foole-borne Iest, Presume not, that I am the
thing I was,

For heauen doth know (so shall the world perceiue) That I haue turn'd
away my former Selfe,

So will I those that kept me Companie.

When thou dost heare I am, as I haue bin, Approach me, and thou shalt
be as thou was't The Tutor and the Feeder of my Riots:

Till then, I banish thee, on paine of death, As I haue done the rest of
my Misleaders, Not to come neere our Person, by ten mile. For
competence of life, I will allow you, That lacke of meanes enforce you
not to euill: And as we heare you do reforme your selues, We will
according to your strength, and qualities, Giue you aduancement. Be it
your charge (my Lord) To see perform'd the tenure of our word. Set on.

Exit King.

Fal. Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound

Shal. I marry Sir Iohn, which I beseech you to let me haue home with
me

Fal. That can hardly be, M[aster]. Shallow, do not you grieue at
this: I shall be sent for in priuate to him: Looke you, he must seeme
thus to the world: feare not your aduancement: I will be the man yet,
that shall make you great

Shal. I cannot well perceiue how, vnlesse you should giue me your
Doublet, and stuffe me out with Straw. I beseech you, good Sir Iohn,
let mee haue fiue hundred of my thousand

Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that you heard, was but
a colour

Shall. A colour I feare, that you will dye in, Sir Iohn

Fal. Feare no colours, go with me to dinner: Come Lieutenant Pistol,
come Bardolfe,

I shall be sent for soone at night

Ch.Iust. Go carry Sir Iohn Falstaffe to the Fleete, Take all his
Company along with him

Fal. My Lord, my Lord

Ch.Iust. I cannot now speake, I will heare you soone: Take them
away

Pist. Si fortuna me tormento, spera me contento.

Exit. Manent Lancaster and Chiefe Iustice

Iohn. I like this faire proceeding of the Kings: He hath intent his
wonted Followers

Shall all be very well prouided for:

But all are banisht, till their conuersations Appeare more wise, and
modest to the world

Ch.Iust. And so they are

Iohn. The King hath call'd his Parliament, My Lord

Ch.Iust. He hath

Iohn. I will lay oddes, that ere this yeere expire, We beare our
Ciuill Swords, and Natiue fire As farre as France. I heare a Bird so
sing, Whose Musicke (to my thinking) pleas'd the King. Come, will you
hence?

Exeunt.

FINIS.

EPILOGVE.

First, my Feare: then, my Curtsie: last, my Speech. My Feare, is your
Displeasure: My Curtsie, my Dutie: And my speech, to Begge your
Pardons. If you looke for a good speech now, you vndoe me: For what I
haue to say, is of mine owne making: and what (indeed) I should say,
will (I doubt) prooue mine owne marring. But to the Purpose, and so to
the Venture. Be it knowne to you (as it is very well) I was lately
heere in the end of a displeasing Play, to pray your

Patien for it, and to promise you a Better: I did meane (indeede) to
pay you with

thi which if (like an ill Venture) it come vnluckily home, I breake;
and you,

my Creditors lose. Heere I promist you I would be, and heere I commit
my Bodie

to your Mercies: Bate me some, and I will pay you some, and (as most
Debtors d

promise you infinitely.

If my Tongue cannot entreate you to acquit me: will you command me to
vse

my Legges? And yet that were but light payment, to Dance out of your
debt:

But

a good Conscience, will make any possible satisfaction, and so will I.
All

the

heere haue forgiuen me, if the Gentlemen will not, then the Gentlemen

do not agree with the Gentlewomen, which was neuer seene before, in
such an

As

One word more, I beseech you: if you be not too much cloid with Fat
Meate,

our humble Author will continue the Story (with Sir Iohn in it) and
make yo

merry, with faire Katherine of France: where (for any thing I know)
Fals

shall dye of a sweat, vnlesse already he be kill'd with your hard
Opinions:

For Old-Castle dyed a Martyr, and this is not the man. My Tongue is
wearie

when my Legs are too, I will bid you good night; and so kneele downe
before

yo

But (indeed) to pray for the Queene.

THE ACTORS NAMES.

Rumour the Presentor.

King Henry the Fourth.

Prince Henry, afterwards Crowned King Henrie the Fift.  Prince Iohn of
Lancaster.

Humphrey of Gloucester.

Thomas of Clarence.

Sonnes to Henry the Fourth, & brethren to Henry 5.  Northumberland.

The Arch Byshop of Yorke.

Mowbray.

Hastings.

Lord Bardolfe.

Trauers.

Morton.

Coleuile.

Opposites against King Henrie the

Fourth.

Warwicke.

Westmerland.

Surrey.

Gowre.

Harecourt.

Lord Chiefe Iustice.

Of the Kings

Partie.

Shallow.

Silence.

Both Country

Iustices.

Dauie, Seruant to Shallow.

Phang, and Snare, 2. Serieants

Mouldie.

Shadow.

Wart.

Feeble.

Bullcalfe.

Country Soldiers

Pointz.

Falstaffe.

Bardolphe.

Pistoll.

Peto.

Page.

Irregular

Humorists.

Drawers

Beadles.

Groomes

Northumberlands Wife.

Percies Widdow.

Hostesse Quickly.

Doll Teare-sheete.

Epilogue. The Second Part of Henry the Fourth, Containing his Death:
and

the Coronation of King Henry the Fift.



The Life of Henry the Fift

Enter Prologue.

O For a Muse of Fire, that would ascend

The brightest Heauen of Inuention:

A Kingdome for a Stage, Princes to Act,

And Monarchs to behold the swelling Scene. Then should the Warlike
Harry, like himselfe, Assume the Port of Mars, and at his heeles
(Leasht in, like Hounds) should Famine, Sword, and Fire Crouch for
employment. But pardon, Gentles all: The flat vnraysed Spirits, that
hath dar'd, On this vnworthy Scaffold, to bring forth So great an
Obiect. Can this Cock-Pit hold The vastie fields of France? Or may we
cramme Within this Woodden O, the very Caskes

That did affright the Ayre at Agincourt?

O pardon: since a crooked Figure may

Attest in little place a Million,

And let vs, Cyphers to this great Accompt, On your imaginarie Forces
worke.

Suppose within the Girdle of these Walls

Are now confin'd two mightie Monarchies,

Whose high, vp-reared, and abutting Fronts, The perillous narrow Ocean
parts asunder. Peece out our imperfections with your thoughts: Into a
thousand parts diuide one Man,

And make imaginarie Puissance.

Thinke when we talke of Horses, that you see them Printing their prowd
Hoofes i'th' receiuing Earth: For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck
our Kings, Carry them here and there: Iumping o're Times; Turning th'
accomplishment of many yeeres Into an Howre-glasse: for the which
supplie, Admit me Chorus to this Historie;

Who Prologue-like, your humble patience pray, Gently to heare, kindly
to iudge our Play. Enter.



Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter the two Bishops of Canterbury and Ely.

Bish.Cant. My Lord, Ile tell you, that selfe Bill is vrg'd, Which in
th' eleue[n]th yere of y last Kings reign Was like, and had indeed
against vs past, But that the scambling and vnquiet time

Did push it out of farther question

Bish.Ely. But how my Lord shall we resist it now?   Bish.Cant. It
must be thought on: if it passe against vs, We loose the better halfe
of our Possession: For all the Temporall Lands, which men deuout By
Testament haue giuen to the Church,

Would they strip from vs; being valu'd thus, As much as would
maintaine, to the Kings honor, Full fifteene Earles, and fifteene
hundred Knights, Six thousand and two hundred good Esquires: And to
reliefe of Lazars, and weake age

Of indigent faint Soules, past corporall toyle, A hundred Almes-houses,
right well supply'd: And to the Coffers of the King beside,

A thousand pounds by th' yeere. Thus runs the Bill

Bish.Ely. This would drinke deepe

Bish.Cant. 'Twould drinke the Cup and all

Bish.Ely. But what preuention?

Bish.Cant. The King is full of grace, and faire regard

Bish.Ely. And a true louer of the holy Church

Bish.Cant. The courses of his youth promis'd it not. The breath no
sooner left his Fathers body, But that his wildnesse, mortify'd in him,
Seem'd to dye too: yea, at that very moment, Consideration like an
Angell came,

And whipt th' offending Adam out of him;

Leauing his body as a Paradise,

T' inuelop and containe Celestiall Spirits. Neuer was such a sodaine
Scholler made:

Neuer came Reformation in a Flood,

With such a heady currance scowring faults: Nor neuer Hidra-headed
Wilfulnesse

So soone did loose his Seat; and all at once; As in this King

Bish.Ely. We are blessed in the Change

Bish.Cant. Heare him but reason in Diuinitie; And all-admiring, with
an inward wish

You would desire the King were made a Prelate: Heare him debate of
Common-wealth Affaires; You would say, it hath been all in all his
study: List his discourse of Warre; and you shall heare A fearefull
Battaile rendred you in Musique. Turne him to any Cause of Pollicy,

The Gordian Knot of it he will vnloose,

Familiar as his Garter: that when he speakes, The Ayre, a Charter'd
Libertine, is still, And the mute Wonder lurketh in mens eares, To
steale his sweet and honyed Sentences: So that the Art and Practique
part of Life, Must be the Mistresse to this Theorique.

Which is a wonder how his Grace should gleane it, Since his addiction
was to Courses vaine, His Companies vnletter'd, rude, and shallow, His
Houres fill'd vp with Ryots, Banquets, Sports; And neuer noted in him
any studie,

Any retyrement, any sequestration,

From open Haunts and Popularitie

B.Ely. The Strawberry growes vnderneath the Nettle, And holesome
Berryes thriue and ripen best, Neighbour'd by Fruit of baser qualitie:

And so the Prince obscur'd his Contemplation Vnder the Veyle of
Wildnesse, which (no doubt) Grew like the Summer Grasse, fastest by
Night, Vnseene, yet cressiue in his facultie

B.Cant. It must be so; for Miracles are ceast: And therefore we must
needes admit the meanes, How things are perfected

B.Ely. But my good Lord:

How now for mittigation of this Bill,

Vrg'd by the Commons? doth his Maiestie

Incline to it, or no?

B.Cant. He seemes indifferent:

Or rather swaying more vpon our part,

Then cherishing th' exhibiters against vs: For I haue made an offer to
his Maiestie, Vpon our Spirituall Conuocation,

And in regard of Causes now in hand,

Which I haue open'd to his Grace at large, As touching France, to giue
a greater Summe, Then euer at one time the Clergie yet

Did to his Predecessors part withall

B.Ely. How did this offer seeme receiu'd, my Lord?   B.Cant. With
good acceptance of his Maiestie: Saue that there was not time enough to
heare, As I perceiu'd his Grace would faine haue done, The seueralls
and vnhidden passages

Of his true Titles to some certaine Dukedomes, And generally, to the
Crowne and Seat of France, Deriu'd from Edward, his great Grandfather

B.Ely. What was th' impediment that broke this off?   B.Cant. The
French Embassador vpon that instant Crau'd audience; and the howre I
thinke is come, To giue him hearing: Is it foure a Clock?   B.Ely. It
is

B.Cant. Then goe we in, to know his Embassie: Which I could with a
ready guesse declare, Before the Frenchman speake a word of it

B.Ely. Ile wait vpon you, and I long to heare it.

Exeunt.

Enter the King, Humfrey, Bedford, Clarence, Warwick, Westmerland, and

Exeter.

King. Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?   Exeter. Not here in
presence

King. Send for him, good Vnckle

Westm. Shall we call in th' Ambassador, my Liege?   King. Not yet,
my Cousin: we would be resolu'd, Before we heare him, of some things of
weight, That taske our thoughts, concerning vs and France. Enter two
Bishops.

B.Cant. God and his Angels guard your sacred Throne, And make you
long become it

King. Sure we thanke you.

My learned Lord, we pray you to proceed,

And iustly and religiously vnfold,

Why the Law Salike, that they haue in France, Or should or should not
barre vs in our Clayme: And God forbid, my deare and faithfull Lord,
That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading, Or nicely charge
your vnderstanding Soule, With opening Titles miscreate, whose right
Sutes not in natiue colours with the truth: For God doth know, how many
now in health, Shall drop their blood, in approbation

Of what your reuerence shall incite vs to. Therefore take heed how you
impawne our Person, How you awake our sleeping Sword of Warre; We
charge you in the Name of God take heed: For neuer two such Kingdomes
did contend, Without much fall of blood, whose guiltlesse drops Are
euery one, a Woe, a sore Complaint,

'Gainst him, whose wrongs giues edge vnto the Swords, That makes such
waste in briefe mortalitie. Vnder this Coniuration, speake my Lord:

For we will heare, note, and beleeue in heart, That what you speake, is
in your Conscience washt, As pure as sinne with Baptisme

B.Can. Then heare me gracious Soueraign, & you Peers, That owe your
selues, your liues, and seruices, To this Imperiall Throne. There is no
barre To make against your Highnesse Clayme to France, But this which
they produce from Pharamond, In terram Salicam Mulieres ne succedant,

No Woman shall succeed in Salike Land:

Which Salike Land, the French vniustly gloze To be the Realme of
France, and Pharamond The founder of this Law, and Female Barre. Yet
their owne Authors faithfully affirme, That the Land Salike is in
Germanie,

Betweene the Flouds of Sala and of Elue:

Where Charles the Great hauing subdu'd the Saxons, There left behind
and settled certaine French: Who holding in disdaine the German Women,
For some dishonest manners of their life, Establisht then this Law; to
wit, No Female Should be Inheritrix in Salike Land:

Which Salike (as I said) 'twixt Elue and Sala, Is at this day in
Germanie, call'd Meisen. Then doth it well appeare, the Salike Law Was
not deuised for the Realme of France: Nor did the French possesse the
Salike Land, Vntill foure hundred one and twentie yeeres After
defunction of King Pharamond,

Idly suppos'd the founder of this Law,

Who died within the yeere of our Redemption, Foure hundred twentie six:
and Charles the Great Subdu'd the Saxons, and did seat the French
Beyond the Riuer Sala, in the yeere

Eight hundred fiue. Besides, their Writers say, King Pepin, which
deposed Childerike,

Did as Heire Generall, being descended

Of Blithild, which was Daughter to King Clothair, Make Clayme and Title
to the Crowne of France. Hugh Capet also, who vsurpt the Crowne

Of Charles the Duke of Loraine, sole Heire male Of the true Line and
Stock of Charles the Great: To find his Title with some shewes of
truth, Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught, Conuey'd
himselfe as th' Heire to th' Lady Lingare, Daughter to Charlemaine, who
was the Sonne To Lewes the Emperour, and Lewes the Sonne Of Charles the
Great: also King Lewes the Tenth, Who was sole Heire to the Vsurper
Capet,

Could not keepe quiet in his conscience,

Wearing the Crowne of France, 'till satisfied, That faire Queene
Isabel, his Grandmother, Was Lineall of the Lady Ermengare,

Daughter to Charles the foresaid Duke of Loraine: By the which
Marriage, the Lyne of Charles the Great Was re-vnited to the Crowne of
France.

So, that as cleare as is the Summers Sunne, King Pepins Title, and Hugh
Capets Clayme, King Lewes his satisfaction, all appeare

To hold in Right and Title of the Female: So doe the Kings of France
vnto this day. Howbeit, they would hold vp this Salique Law, To barre
your Highnesse clayming from the Female, And rather chuse to hide them
in a Net,

Then amply to imbarre their crooked Titles, Vsurpt from you and your
Progenitors

King. May I with right and conscience make this claim?   Bish.Cant.
The sinne vpon my head, dread Soueraigne: For in the Booke of Numbers
is it writ,

When the man dyes, let the Inheritance

Descend vnto the Daughter. Gracious Lord, Stand for your owne, vnwind
your bloody Flagge, Looke back into your mightie Ancestors:

Goe my dread Lord, to your great Grandsires Tombe, From whom you
clayme; inuoke his Warlike Spirit, And your Great Vnckles, Edward the
Black Prince, Who on the French ground play'd a Tragedie, Making defeat
on the full Power of France: Whiles his most mightie Father on a Hill

Stood smiling, to behold his Lyons Whelpe Forrage in blood of French
Nobilitie.

O Noble English, that could entertaine

With halfe their Forces, the full pride of France, And let another
halfe stand laughing by,

All out of worke, and cold for action

Bish. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead, And with your
puissant Arme renew their Feats; You are their Heire, you sit vpon
their Throne: The Blood and Courage that renowned them, Runs in your
Veines: and my thrice-puissant Liege Is in the very May-Morne of his
Youth,

Ripe for Exploits and mightie Enterprises

Exe. Your Brother Kings and Monarchs of the Earth Doe all expect,
that you should rowse your selfe, As did the former Lyons of your
Blood

West. They know your Grace hath cause, and means, and might; So hath
your Highnesse: neuer King of England Had Nobles richer, and more
loyall Subiects, Whose hearts haue left their bodyes here in England,
And lye pauillion'd in the fields of France

Bish.Can. O let their bodyes follow my deare Liege With Bloods, and
Sword and Fire, to win your Right: In ayde whereof, we of the
Spiritualtie

Will rayse your Highnesse such a mightie Summe, As neuer did the
Clergie at one time

Bring in to any of your Ancestors

King. We must not onely arme t' inuade the French, But lay downe our
proportions, to defend

Against the Scot, who will make roade vpon vs, With all aduantages

Bish.Can. They of those Marches, gracious Soueraign, Shall be a Wall
sufficient to defend

Our in-land from the pilfering Borderers

King. We do not meane the coursing snatchers onely, But feare the
maine intendment of the Scot, Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to
vs: For you shall reade, that my great Grandfather Neuer went with his
forces into France,

But that the Scot, on his vnfurnisht Kingdome, Came pouring like the
Tyde into a breach, With ample and brim fulnesse of his force, Galling
the gleaned Land with hot Assayes, Girding with grieuous siege, Castles
and Townes: That England being emptie of defence,

Hath shooke and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood

B.Can. She hath bin the[n] more fear'd the[n] harm'd, my Liege: For
heare her but exampl'd by her selfe,

When all her Cheualrie hath been in France, And shee a mourning Widdow
of her Nobles, Shee hath her selfe not onely well defended, But taken
and impounded as a Stray,

The King of Scots: whom shee did send to France, To fill King Edwards
fame with prisoner Kings, And make their Chronicle as rich with prayse,
As is the Owse and bottome of the Sea

With sunken Wrack, and sum-lesse Treasuries

Bish.Ely. But there's a saying very old and true, If that you will
France win, then with Scotland first begin. For once the Eagle
(England) being in prey, To her vnguarded Nest, the Weazell (Scot)
Comes sneaking, and so sucks her Princely Egges, Playing the Mouse in
absence of the Cat,

To tame and hauocke more then she can eate

Exet. It followes then, the Cat must stay at home, Yet that is but a
crush'd necessity,

Since we haue lockes to safegard necessaries, And pretty traps to catch
the petty theeues. While that the Armed hand doth fight abroad, Th'
aduised head defends it selfe at home: For Gouernment, though high, and
low, and lower, Put into parts, doth keepe in one consent, Congreeing
in a full and natural close,

Like Musicke

Cant. Therefore doth heauen diuide

The state of man in diuers functions,

Setting endeuour in continual motion:

To which is fixed as an ayme or butt,

Obedience: for so worke the Hony Bees,

Creatures that by a rule in Nature teach

The Act of Order to a peopled Kingdome.

They haue a King, and Officers of sorts,

Where some like Magistrates correct at home: Others, like Merchants
venter Trade abroad: Others, like Souldiers armed in their stings, Make
boote vpon the Summers Veluet buddes: Which pillage, they with merry
march bring home To the Tent-royal of their Emperor:

Who busied in his Maiesties surueyes

The singing Masons building roofes of Gold, The ciuil Citizens kneading
vp the hony;

The poore Mechanicke Porters, crowding in Their heauy burthens at his
narrow gate:

The sad-ey'd Iustice with his surly humme, Deliuering ore to Executors
pale

The lazie yawning Drone: I this inferre,

That many things hauing full reference

To one consent, may worke contrariously,

As many Arrowes loosed seuerall wayes

Come to one marke: as many wayes meet in one towne, As many fresh
streames meet in one salt sea; As many Lynes close in the Dials
center:

So may a thousand actions once a foote,

And in one purpose, and be all well borne Without defeat. Therefore to
France, my Liege, Diuide your happy England into foure,

Whereof, take you one quarter into France, And you withall shall make
all Gallia shake. If we with thrice such powers left at home, Cannot
defend our owne doores from the dogge, Let vs be worried, and our
Nation lose

The name of hardinesse and policie

King. Call in the Messengers sent from the Dolphin. Now are we well
resolu'd, and by Gods helpe And yours, the noble sinewes of our power,
France being ours, wee'l bend it to our Awe, Or breake it all to
peeces. Or there wee'l sit, (Ruling in large and ample Emperie,

Ore France, and all her (almost) Kingly Dukedomes) Or lay these bones
in an vnworthy Vrne,

Tomblesse, with no remembrance ouer them: Either our History shall with
full mouth

Speake freely of our Acts, or else our graue Like Turkish mute, shall
haue a tonguelesse mouth, Not worshipt with a waxen Epitaph.

Enter Ambassadors of France.

Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure Of our faire Cosin
Dolphin: for we heare, Your greeting is from him, not from the King

Amb. May't please your Maiestie to giue vs leaue Freely to render
what we haue in charge:

Or shall we sparingly shew you farre off

The Dolphins meaning, and our Embassie

King. We are no Tyrant, but a Christian King, Vnto whose grace our
passion is as subiect As is our wretches fettred in our prisons,
Therefore with franke and with vncurbed plainnesse, Tell vs the
Dolphins minde

Amb. Thus than in few:

Your Highnesse lately sending into France, Did claime some certaine
Dukedomes, in the right Of your great Predecessor, King Edward the
third. In answer of which claime, the Prince our Master Sayes, that you
sauour too much of your youth, And bids you be aduis'd: There's nought
in France, That can be with a nimble Galliard wonne: You cannot reuell
into Dukedomes there.

He therefore sends you meeter for your spirit This Tun of Treasure; and
in lieu of this, Desires you let the dukedomes that you claime Heare no
more of you. This the Dolphin speakes

King. What Treasure Vncle?

Exe. Tennis balles, my Liege

Kin. We are glad the Dolphin is so pleasant with vs, His Present,
and your paines we thanke you for: When we haue matcht our Rackets to
these Balles, We will in France (by Gods grace) play a set, Shall
strike his fathers Crowne into the hazard. Tell him, he hath made a
match with such a Wrangler, That all the Courts of France will be
disturb'd With Chaces. And we vnderstand him well,

How he comes o're vs with our wilder dayes, Not measuring what vse we
made of them.

We neuer valew'd this poore seate of England, And therefore liuing
hence, did giue our selfe To barbarous license: As 'tis euer common,
That men are merriest, when they are from home. But tell the Dolphin, I
will keepe my State, Be like a King, and shew my sayle of Greatnesse,
When I do rowse me in my Throne of France. For that I haue layd by my
Maiestie,

And plodded like a man for working dayes: But I will rise there with so
full a glorie, That I will dazle all the eyes of France, Yea strike the
Dolphin blinde to looke on vs, And tell the pleasant Prince, this Mocke
of his Hath turn'd his balles to Gun-stones, and his soule Shall stand
sore charged, for the wastefull vengeance That shall flye with them:
for many a thousand widows Shall this his Mocke, mocke out of their
deer husbands; Mocke mothers from their sonnes, mock Castles downe: And
some are yet vngotten and vnborne,

That shal haue cause to curse the Dolphins scorne. But this lyes all
within the wil of God,

To whom I do appeale, and in whose name

Tel you the Dolphin, I am comming on,

To venge me as I may, and to put forth

My rightfull hand in a wel-hallow'd cause. So get you hence in peace:
And tell the Dolphin, His Iest will sauour but of shallow wit,

When thousands weepe more then did laugh at it. Conuey them with safe
conduct. Fare you well.

Exeunt. Ambassadors.

Exe. This was a merry Message

King. We hope to make the Sender blush at it: Therefore, my Lords,
omit no happy howre, That may giue furth'rance to our Expedition: For
we haue now no thought in vs but France, Saue those to God, that runne
before our businesse. Therefore let our proportions for these Warres Be
soone collected, and all things thought vpon, That may with reasonable
swiftnesse adde

More Feathers to our Wings: for God before, Wee'le chide this Dolphin
at his fathers doore. Therefore let euery man now taske his thought,
That this faire Action may on foot be brought.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Chorus.

Now all the Youth of England are on fire, And silken Dalliance in the
Wardrobe lyes: Now thriue the Armorers, and Honors thought Reignes
solely in the breast of euery man. They sell the Pasture now, to buy
the Horse; Following the Mirror of all Christian Kings, With winged
heeles, as English Mercuries. For now sits Expectation in the Ayre,

And hides a Sword, from Hilts vnto the Point, With Crownes Imperiall,
Crownes and Coronets, Promis'd to Harry, and his followers.

The French aduis'd by good intelligence

Of this most dreadfull preparation,

Shake in their feare, and with pale Pollicy Seeke to diuert the English
purposes.

O England: Modell to thy inward Greatnesse, Like little Body with a
mightie Heart:

What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do, Were all thy children
kinde and naturall: But see, thy fault France hath in thee found out, A
nest of hollow bosomes, which he filles With treacherous Crownes, and
three corrupted men: One, Richard Earle of Cambridge, and the second
Henry Lord Scroope of Masham, and the third Sir Thomas Grey Knight of
Northumberland, Haue for the Gilt of France (O guilt indeed) Confirm'd
Conspiracy with fearefull France, And by their hands, this grace of
Kings must dye. If Hell and Treason hold their promises,

Ere he take ship for France; and in Southampton. Linger your patience
on, and wee'l digest Th' abuse of distance; force a play:

The summe is payde, the Traitors are agreed, The King is set from
London, and the Scene Is now transported (Gentles) to Southampton,
There is the Play-house now, there must you sit, And thence to France
shall we conuey you safe, And bring you backe: Charming the narrow seas
To giue you gentle Passe: for if we may,

Wee'l not offend one stomacke with our Play. But till the King come
forth, and not till then, Vnto Southampton do we shift our Scene.

Exit

Enter Corporall Nym, and Lieutenant Bardolfe.

Bar. Well met Corporall Nym

Nym. Good morrow Lieutenant Bardolfe

Bar. What, are Ancient Pistoll and you friends yet?   Nym. For my
part, I care not: I say little: but when time shall serue, there shall
be smiles, but that shall be as it may. I dare not fight, but I will
winke and holde out mine yron: it is a simple one, but what though? It
will toste Cheese, and it will endure cold, as another mans sword will:
and there's an end

Bar. I will bestow a breakfast to make you friendes, and wee'l bee
all three sworne brothers to France: Let't be so good Corporall Nym

Nym. Faith, I will liue so long as I may, that's the certaine of it:
and when I cannot liue any longer, I will doe as I may: That is my
rest, that is the rendeuous of it

Bar. It is certaine Corporall, that he is marryed to Nell Quickly,
and certainly she did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her

Nym. I cannot tell, Things must be as they may: men may sleepe, and
they may haue their throats about them at that time, and some say,
kniues haue edges: It must be as it may, though patience be a tyred
name, yet shee will plodde, there must be Conclusions, well, I cannot
tell.

Enter Pistoll, & Quickly.

Bar. Heere comes Ancient Pistoll and his wife: good Corporall be
patient heere. How now mine Hoaste Pistoll?   Pist. Base Tyke, cal'st
thou mee Hoste, now by this hand I sweare I scorne the terme: nor shall
my Nel keep Lodgers

Host. No by my troth, not long: For we cannot lodge and board a
dozen or fourteene Gentlewomen that liue honestly by the pricke of
their Needles, but it will bee thought we keepe a Bawdy-house straight.
O welliday Lady, if he be not hewne now, we shall see wilful adultery
and murther committed

Bar. Good Lieutenant, good Corporal offer nothing heere

Nym. Pish

Pist. Pish for thee, Island dogge: thou prickeard cur of Island

Host. Good Corporall Nym shew thy valor, and put vp your sword

Nym. Will you shogge off? I would haue you solus

Pist. Solus, egregious dog? O Viper vile; The solus in thy most
meruailous face, the solus in thy teeth, and in thy throate, and in thy
hatefull Lungs, yea in thy Maw perdy; and which is worse, within thy
nastie mouth. I do retort the solus in thy bowels, for I can take, and
Pistols cocke is vp, and flashing fire will follow

Nym. I am not Barbason, you cannot coniure mee: I haue an humor to
knocke you indifferently well: If you grow fowle with me Pistoll, I
will scoure you with my Rapier, as I may, in fayre tearmes. If you
would walke off, I would pricke your guts a little in good tearmes, as
I may, and that's the humor of it

Pist. O Braggard vile, and damned furious wight, The Graue doth
gape, and doting death is neere, Therefore exhale

Bar. Heare me, heare me what I say: Hee that strikes the first
stroake, Ile run him vp to the hilts, as I am a soldier

Pist. An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate. Giue me thy
fist, thy fore-foote to me giue: Thy spirites are most tall

Nym. I will cut thy throate one time or other in faire termes, that
is the humor of it

Pistoll. Couple a gorge, that is the word. I defie thee againe. O
hound of Creet, think'st thou my spouse to get? No, to the spittle goe,
and from the Poudring tub of infamy, fetch forth the Lazar Kite of
Cressids kinde, Doll Teare-sheete, she by name, and her espouse. I
haue, and I will hold the Quondam Quickely for the onely shee: and
Pauca, there's enough to go to.

Enter the Boy.

Boy. Mine Hoast Pistoll, you must come to my Mayster, and your
Hostesse: He is very sicke, & would to bed. Good Bardolfe, put thy face
betweene his sheets, and do the Office of a Warming-pan: Faith, he's
very ill

Bard. Away you Rogue

Host. By my troth he'l yeeld the Crow a pudding one of these dayes:
the King has kild his heart. Good Husband come home presently.

Exit

Bar. Come, shall I make you two friends. Wee must to France together:
why the diuel should we keep kniues to cut one anothers throats?

Pist. Let floods ore-swell, and fiends for food howle on

Nym. You'l pay me the eight shillings I won of you at Betting?

Pist. Base is the Slaue that payes

Nym. That now I wil haue: that's the humor of it

Pist. As manhood shal compound: push home.

Draw

Bard. By this sword, hee that makes the first thrust, Ile kill him:
By this sword, I wil

Pi. Sword is an Oath, & Oaths must haue their course   Bar. Coporall
Nym, & thou wilt be friends be frends, and thou wilt not, why then be
enemies with me to: prethee put vp

Pist. A Noble shalt thou haue, and present pay, and Liquor likewise
will I giue to thee, and friendshippe shall combyne, and brotherhood.
Ile liue by Nymme, & Nymme shall liue by me, is not this iust? For I
shal Sutler be vnto the Campe, and profits will accrue. Giue mee thy
hand

Nym. I shall haue my Noble?

Pist. In cash, most iustly payd

Nym. Well, then that the humor of't.

Enter Hostesse.

Host. As euer you come of women, come in quickly to sir Iohn: A poore
heart, hee is so shak'd of a burning quotidian Tertian, that it is most
lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him

Nym. The King hath run bad humors on the Knight, that's the euen of
it

Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right, his heart is fracted and
corroborate

Nym. The King is a good King, but it must bee as it may: he passes
some humors, and carreeres

Pist. Let vs condole the Knight, for (Lambekins) we will liue.

Enter Exeter, Bedford, & Westmerland.

Bed. Fore God his Grace is bold to trust these traitors   Exe. They
shall be apprehended by and by

West. How smooth and euen they do bear themselues, As if allegeance
in their bosomes sate

Crowned with faith, and constant loyalty

Bed. The King hath note of all that they intend, By interception,
which they dreame not of

Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, Whom he hath dull'd
and cloy'd with gracious fauours; That he should for a forraigne purse,
so sell His Soueraignes life to death and treachery.

Sound Trumpets.

Enter the King, Scroope, Cambridge, and Gray.

King. Now sits the winde faire, and we will aboord. My Lord of
Cambridge, and my kinde Lord of Masham, And you my gentle Knight, giue
me your thoughts: Thinke you not that the powres we beare with vs Will
cut their passage through the force of France? Doing the execution, and
the acte,

For which we haue in head assembled them

Scro. No doubt my Liege, if each man do his best

King. I doubt not that, since we are well perswaded We carry not a
heart with vs from hence,

That growes not in a faire consent with ours: Nor leaue not one
behinde, that doth not wish Successe and Conquest to attend on vs

Cam. Neuer was Monarch better fear'd and lou'd, Then is your
Maiesty; there's not I thinke a subiect That sits in heart-greefe and
vneasinesse Vnder the sweet shade of your gouernment

Kni. True: those that were your Fathers enemies, Haue steep'd their
gauls in hony, and do serue you With hearts create of duty, and of
zeale

King. We therefore haue great cause of thankfulnes, And shall forget
the office of our hand

Sooner then quittance of desert and merit, According to the weight and
worthinesse

Scro. So seruice shall with steeled sinewes toyle, And labour shall
refresh it selfe with hope To do your Grace incessant seruices

King. We Iudge no lesse. Vnkle of Exeter, Inlarge the man committed
yesterday,

That rayl'd against our person: We consider It was excesse of Wine that
set him on,

And on his more aduice, We pardon him

Scro. That's mercy, but too much security: Let him be punish'd
Soueraigne, least example Breed (by his sufferance) more of such a
kind

King. O let vs yet be mercifull

Cam. So may your Highnesse, and yet punish too

Grey. Sir, you shew great mercy if you giue him life, After the
taste of much correction

King. Alas, your too much loue and care of me, Are heauy Orisons
'gainst this poore wretch: If little faults proceeding on distemper,
Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye When capitall
crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested, Appeare before vs? Wee'l yet
inlarge that man, Though Cambridge, Scroope, and Gray, in their deere
care And tender preseruation of our person

Wold haue him punish'd. And now to our French causes, Who are the late
Commissioners?

Cam. I one my Lord,

Your Highnesse bad me aske for it to day

Scro. So did you me my Liege

Gray. And I my Royall Soueraigne

King. Then Richard Earle of Cambridge, there is yours: There yours
Lord Scroope of Masham, and Sir Knight: Gray of Northumberland, this
same is yours: Reade them, and know I know your worthinesse. My Lord of
Westmerland, and Vnkle Exeter, We will aboord to night. Why how now
Gentlemen? What see you in those papers, that you loose So much
complexion? Looke ye how they change: Their cheekes are paper. Why,
what reade you there, That haue so cowarded and chac'd your blood Out
of apparance

Cam. I do confesse my fault,

And do submit me to your Highnesse mercy

Gray. Scro. To which we all appeale

King. The mercy that was quicke in vs but late, By your owne
counsaile is supprest and kill'd: You must not dare (for shame) to
talke of mercy, For your owne reasons turne into your bosomes, As dogs
vpon their maisters, worrying you: See you my Princes, and my Noble
Peeres,

These English monsters: My Lord of Cambridge heere, You know how apt
our loue was, to accord

To furnish with all appertinents

Belonging to his Honour; and this man,

Hath for a few light Crownes, lightly conspir'd And sworne vnto the
practises of France

To kill vs heere in Hampton. To the which, This Knight no lesse for
bounty bound to Vs Then Cambridge is, hath likewise sworne. But O, What
shall I say to thee Lord Scroope, thou cruell, Ingratefull, sauage, and
inhumane Creature? Thou that didst beare the key of all my counsailes,
That knew'st the very bottome of my soule, That (almost) might'st haue
coyn'd me into Golde, Would'st thou haue practis'd on me, for thy vse?
May it be possible, that forraigne hyer

Could out of thee extract one sparke of euill That might annoy my
finger? 'Tis so strange, That though the truth of it stands off as
grosse As black and white, my eye will scarsely see it. Treason, and
murther, euer kept together, As two yoake diuels sworne to eythers
purpose, Working so grossely in an naturall cause, That admiration did
not hoope at them.

But thou (gainst all proportion) didst bring in Wonder to waite on
treason, and on murther: And whatsoeuer cunning fiend it was

That wrought vpon thee so preposterously, Hath got the voyce in hell
for excellence: And other diuels that suggest by treasons, Do botch and
bungle vp damnation,

With patches, colours, and with formes being fetcht From glist'ring
semblances of piety:

But he that temper'd thee, bad thee stand vp, Gaue thee no instance why
thou shouldst do treason, Vnlesse to dub thee with the name of Traitor.
If that same Daemon that hath gull'd thee thus, Should with his
Lyon-gate walke the whole world, He might returne to vastie Tartar
backe,

And tell the Legions, I can neuer win

A soule so easie as that Englishmans.

Oh, how hast thou with iealousie infected The sweetnesse of affiance?
Shew men dutifull, Why so didst thou: seeme they graue and learned? Why
so didst thou. Come they of Noble Family? Why so didst thou. Seeme they
religious?

Why so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet, Free from grosse passion,
or of mirth, or anger, Constant in spirit, not sweruing with the blood,
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement, Not working with the eye,
without the eare, And but in purged iudgement trusting neither, Such
and so finely boulted didst thou seeme: And thus thy fall hath left a
kinde of blot, To make thee full fraught man, and best indued With some
suspition, I will weepe for thee. For this reuolt of thine, me thinkes
is like Another fall of Man. Their faults are open, Arrest them to the
answer of the Law,

And God acquit them of their practises

Exe. I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Richard Earle of
Cambridge.

I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Thomas Lord Scroope of
Marsham.

I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, Knight of
Northumberland

Scro. Our purposes, God iustly hath discouer'd, And I repent my
fault more then my death, Which I beseech your Highnesse to forgiue,
Although my body pay the price of it

Cam. For me, the Gold of France did not seduce, Although I did admit
it as a motiue,

The sooner to effect what I intended:

But God be thanked for preuention,

Which in sufferance heartily will reioyce, Beseeching God, and you, to
pardon mee

Gray. Neuer did faithfull subiect more reioyce At the discouery of
most dangerous Treason, Then I do at this houre ioy ore my selfe,
Preuented from a damned enterprize;

My fault, but not my body, pardon Soueraigne

King. God quit you in his mercy: Hear your sentence You haue
conspir'd against Our Royall person, Ioyn'd with an enemy proclaim'd,
and from his Coffers, Receyu'd the Golden Earnest of Our death: Wherein
you would haue sold your King to slaughter, His Princes, and his Peeres
to seruitude, His Subiects to oppression, and contempt, And his whole
Kingdome into desolation:

Touching our person, seeke we no reuenge, But we our Kingdomes safety
must so tender, Whose ruine you sought, that to her Lawes We do deliuer
you. Get you therefore hence, (Poore miserable wretches) to your death:
The taste whereof, God of his mercy giue

You patience to indure, and true Repentance Of all your deare offences.
Beare them hence. Enter.

Now Lords for France: the enterprise whereof Shall be to you as vs,
like glorious.

We doubt not of a faire and luckie Warre, Since God so graciously hath
brought to light This dangerous Treason, lurking in our way, To hinder
our beginnings. We doubt not now, But euery Rubbe is smoothed on our
way.

Then forth, deare Countreymen: Let vs deliuer Our Puissance into the
hand of God,

Putting it straight in expedition.

Chearely to Sea, the signes of Warre aduance, No King of England, if
not King of France.

Flourish.

Enter Pistoll, Nim, Bardolph, Boy, and Hostesse.

Hostesse. 'Prythee honey sweet Husband, let me bring thee to Staines

Pistoll. No: for my manly heart doth erne. Bardolph, be blythe: Nim,
rowse thy vaunting Veines: Boy, brissle thy Courage vp: for Falstaffe
hee is dead, and wee must erne therefore

Bard. Would I were with him, wheresomere hee is, eyther in Heauen,
or in Hell

Hostesse. Nay sure, hee's not in Hell: hee's in Arthurs Bosome, if
euer man went to Arthurs Bosome: a made a finer end, and went away and
it had beene any Christome Childe: a parted eu'n iust betweene Twelue
and One, eu'n at the turning o'th' Tyde: for after I saw him fumble
with the Sheets, and play with Flowers, and smile vpon his fingers end,
I knew there was but one way: for his Nose was as sharpe as a Pen, and
a Table of greene fields. How now Sir Iohn (quoth I?) what man? be a
good cheare: so a cryed out, God, God, God, three or foure times: now
I, to comfort him, bid him a should not thinke of God; I hop'd there
was no neede to trouble himselfe with any such thoughts yet: so a bad
me lay more Clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the Bed, and felt
them, and they were as cold as any stone: then I felt to his knees, and
so vp-peer'd, and vpward, and all was as cold as any stone

Nim. They say he cryed out of Sack

Hostesse. I, that a did

Bard. And of Women

Hostesse. Nay, that a did not

Boy. Yes that a did, and said they were Deules incarnate

Woman. A could neuer abide Carnation, 'twas a Colour he neuer lik'd

Boy. A said once, the Deule would haue him about Women

Hostesse. A did in some sort (indeed) handle Women: but then hee was
rumatique, and talk'd of the Whore of Babylon

Boy. Doe you not remember a saw a Flea sticke vpon Bardolphs Nose,
and a said it was a blacke Soule burning in Hell

Bard. Well, the fuell is gone that maintain'd that fire: that's all
the Riches I got in his seruice

Nim. Shall wee shogg? the King will be gone from Southampton

Pist. Come, let's away. My Loue, giue me thy Lippes: Looke to my
Chattels, and my Moueables: Let Sences rule: The world is, Pitch and
pay: trust none: for Oathes are Strawes, mens Faiths are Wafer-Cakes,
and hold-fast is the onely Dogge: My Ducke, therefore Caueto bee thy
Counsailor. Goe, cleare thy Chrystalls. Yokefellowes in Armes, let vs
to France, like Horseleeches my Boyes, to sucke, to sucke, the very
blood to sucke

Boy. And that's but vnwholesome food, they say

Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march

Bard. Farwell Hostesse

Nim. I cannot kisse, that is the humor of it: but adieu

Pist. Let Huswiferie appeare: keepe close, I thee command

Hostesse. Farwell: adieu.

Exeunt.

Flourish.

Enter the French King, the Dolphin, the Dukes of Berry and Britaine.

King. Thus comes the English with full power vpon vs, And more then
carefully it vs concernes,

To answer Royally in our defences.

Therefore the Dukes of Berry and of Britaine, Of Brabant and of
Orleance, shall make forth, And you Prince Dolphin, with all swift
dispatch To lyne and new repayre our Townes of Warre With men of
courage, and with meanes defendant: For England his approaches makes as
fierce, As Waters to the sucking of a Gulfe.

It fits vs then to be as prouident,

As feare may teach vs, out of late examples Left by the fatall and
neglected English, Vpon our fields

Dolphin. My most redoubted Father,

It is most meet we arme vs 'gainst the Foe: For Peace it selfe should
not so dull a Kingdome, (Though War nor no knowne Quarrel were in
question) But that Defences, Musters, Preparations, Should be
maintain'd, assembled, and collected, As were a Warre in expectation.

Therefore I say, 'tis meet we all goe forth, To view the sick and
feeble parts of France: And let vs doe it with no shew of feare,

No, with no more, then if we heard that England Were busied with a
Whitson Morris-dance:

For, my good Liege, shee is so idly King'd, Her Scepter so
phantastically borne,

By a vaine giddie shallow humorous Youth, That feare attends her not

Const. O peace, Prince Dolphin,

You are too much mistaken in this King:

Question your Grace the late Embassadors, With what great State he
heard their Embassie, How well supply'd with Noble Councellors, How
modest in exception; and withall,

How terrible in constant resolution:

And you shall find, his Vanities fore-spent, Were but the out-side of
the Roman Brutus, Couering Discretion with a Coat of Folly; As
Gardeners doe with Ordure hide those Roots That shall first spring, and
be most delicate

Dolphin. Well, 'tis not so, my Lord High Constable. But though we
thinke it so, it is no matter: In cases of defence, 'tis best to weigh

The Enemie more mightie then he seemes,

So the proportions of defence are fill'd: Which of a weake and
niggardly proiection, Doth like a Miser spoyle his Coat, with scanting
A little Cloth

King. Thinke we King Harry strong:

And Princes, looke you strongly arme to meet him. The Kindred of him
hath beene flesht vpon vs: And he is bred out of that bloodie straine,
That haunted vs in our familiar Pathes:

Witnesse our too much memorable shame,

When Cressy Battell fatally was strucke,

And all our Princes captiu'd, by the hand Of that black Name, Edward,
black Prince of Wales: Whiles that his Mountaine Sire, on Mountaine
standing Vp in the Ayre, crown'd with the Golden Sunne, Saw his
Heroicall Seed, and smil'd to see him Mangle the Worke of Nature, and
deface

The Patternes, that by God and by French Fathers Had twentie yeeres
been made. This is a Stem Of that Victorious Stock: and let vs feare
The Natiue mightinesse and fate of him.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Embassadors from Harry King of England, Doe craue admittance to
your Maiestie

King. Weele giue them present audience. Goe, and bring them.

You see this Chase is hotly followed, friends

Dolphin. Turne head, and stop pursuit: for coward Dogs Most spend
their mouths, whe[n] what they seem to threaten Runs farre before them.
Good my Soueraigne Take vp the English short, and let them know Of what
a Monarchie you are the Head:

Selfe-loue, my Liege, is not so vile a sinne, As selfe-neglecting.

Enter Exeter.

King. From our Brother of England?

Exe. From him, and thus he greets your Maiestie: He wills you in the
Name of God Almightie, That you deuest your selfe, and lay apart The
borrowed Glories, that by gift of Heauen, By Law of Nature, and of
Nations, longs

To him and to his Heires, namely, the Crowne, And all wide-stretched
Honors, that pertaine By Custome, and the Ordinance of Times,

Vnto the Crowne of France: that you may know 'Tis no sinister, nor no
awkward Clayme,

Pickt from the worme-holes of long-vanisht dayes, Nor from the dust of
old Obliuion rakt,

He sends you this most memorable Lyne,

In euery Branch truly demonstratiue;

Willing you ouer-looke this Pedigree:

And when you find him euenly deriu'd

From his most fam'd, of famous Ancestors, Edward the third; he bids you
then resigne Your Crowne and Kingdome, indirectly held From him, the
Natiue and true Challenger

King. Or else what followes?

Exe. Bloody constraint: for if you hide the Crowne Euen in your
hearts, there will he rake for it. Therefore in fierce Tempest is he
comming, In Thunder and in Earth-quake, like a Ioue: That if requiring
faile, he will compell. And bids you, in the Bowels of the Lord,

Deliuer vp the Crowne, and to take mercie On the poore Soules, for whom
this hungry Warre Opens his vastie Iawes: and on your head

Turning the Widdowes Teares, the Orphans Cryes, The dead-mens Blood,
the priuy Maidens Groanes, For Husbands, Fathers, and betrothed Louers,
That shall be swallowed in this Controuersie. This is his Clayme, his
Threatning, and my Message: Vnlesse the Dolphin be in presence here;

To whom expressely I bring greeting to

King. For vs, we will consider of this further: To morrow shall you
beare our full intent Back to our Brother of England

Dolph. For the Dolphin,

I stand here for him: what to him from England?   Exe. Scorne and
defiance, sleight regard, contempt, And any thing that may not
mis-become

The mightie Sender, doth he prize you at. Thus sayes my King: and if
your Fathers Highnesse Doe not, in graunt of all demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter Mock you sent his Maiestie; Hee'le call you to so
hot an Answer of it, That Caues and Wombie Vaultages of France Shall
chide your Trespas, and returne your Mock In second Accent of his
Ordinance

Dolph. Say: if my Father render faire returne, It is against my
will: for I desire

Nothing but Oddes with England.

To that end, as matching to his Youth and Vanitie, I did present him
with the Paris-Balls

Exe. Hee'le make your Paris Louer shake for it, Were it the
Mistresse Court of mightie Europe: And be assur'd, you'le find a
diff'rence, As we his Subiects haue in wonder found,

Betweene the promise of his greener dayes, And these he masters now:
now he weighes Time Euen to the vtmost Graine: that you shall reade In
your owne Losses, if he stay in France

King. To morrow shall you know our mind at full.

Flourish.

Exe. Dispatch vs with all speed, least that our King Come here
himselfe to question our delay; For he is footed in this Land already

King. You shalbe soone dispatcht, with faire conditions. A Night is
but small breathe, and little pawse, To answer matters of this
consequence.

Exeunt.



Actus Secundus.

Flourish. Enter Chorus.

Thus with imagin'd wing our swift Scene flyes, In motion of no lesse
celeritie then that of Thought. Suppose, that you haue seene

The well-appointed King at Douer Peer,

Embarke his Royaltie: and his braue Fleet, With silken Streamers, the
young Phebus fayning; Play with your Fancies: and in them behold, Vpon
the Hempen Tackle, Ship-boyes climbing; Heare the shrill Whistle, which
doth order giue To sounds confus'd: behold the threaden Sayles, Borne
with th' inuisible and creeping Wind, Draw the huge Bottomes through
the furrowed Sea, Bresting the loftie Surge. O, doe but thinke You
stand vpon the Riuage, and behold

A Citie on th' inconstant Billowes dauncing: For so appeares this Fleet
Maiesticall,

Holding due course to Harflew. Follow, follow: Grapple your minds to
sternage of this Nauie, And leaue your England as dead Mid-night,
still, Guarded with Grandsires, Babyes, and old Women, Eyther past, or
not arriu'd to pyth and puissance: For who is he, whose Chin is but
enricht

With one appearing Hayre, that will not follow These cull'd and
choyse-drawne Caualiers to France? Worke, worke your Thoughts, and
therein see a Siege: Behold the Ordenance on their Carriages,

With fatall mouthes gaping on girded Harflew. Suppose th' Embassador
from the French comes back: Tells Harry, That the King doth offer him
Katherine his Daughter, and with her to Dowrie, Some petty and
vnprofitable Dukedomes.

The offer likes not: and the nimble Gunner With Lynstock now the
diuellish Cannon touches,

Alarum, and Chambers goe off.

And downe goes all before them. Still be kind, And eech out our
performance with your mind. Enter.

Enter the King, Exeter, Bedford, and Gloucester. Alarum: Scaling
Ladders

at Harflew.

King. Once more vnto the Breach,

Deare friends, once more;

Or close the Wall vp with our English dead: In Peace, there's nothing
so becomes a man, As modest stillnesse, and humilitie:

But when the blast of Warre blowes in our eares, Then imitate the
action of the Tyger:

Stiffen the sinewes, commune vp the blood, Disguise faire Nature with
hard-fauour'd Rage: Then lend the Eye a terrible aspect:

Let it pry through the portage of the Head, Like the Brasse Cannon: let
the Brow o'rewhelme it, As fearefully, as doth a galled Rocke

O're-hang and iutty his confounded Base,

Swill'd with the wild and wastfull Ocean. Now set the Teeth, and
stretch the Nosthrill wide, Hold hard the Breath, and bend vp euery
Spirit To his full height. On, on, you Noblish English, Whose blood is
fet from Fathers of Warre-proofe: Fathers, that like so many
Alexanders,

Haue in these parts from Morne till Euen fought, And sheath'd their
Swords, for lack of argument. Dishonour not your Mothers: now attest,

That those whom you call'd Fathers, did beget you. Be Coppy now to men
of grosser blood,

And teach them how to Warre. And you good Yeomen, Whose Lyms were made
in England; shew vs here The mettell of your Pasture: let vs sweare,
That you are worth your breeding: which I doubt not: For there is none
of you so meane and base, That hath not Noble luster in your eyes.

I see you stand like Grey-hounds in the slips, Straying vpon the Start.
The Game's afoot: Follow your Spirit; and vpon this Charge, Cry, God
for Harry, England, and S[aint]. George.

Alarum, and Chambers goe off.

Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pistoll, and Boy.

Bard. On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the breach

Nim. 'Pray thee Corporall stay, the Knocks are too hot: and for mine
owne part, I haue not a Case of Liues: the humor of it is too hot, that
is the very plaine-Song of it

Pist. The plaine-Song is most iust: for humors doe abound: Knocks
goe and come: Gods Vassals drop and dye: and Sword and Shield, in
bloody Field, doth winne immortall fame

Boy. Would I were in a Ale-house in London, I would giue all my fame
for a Pot of Ale, and safetie

Pist. And I: If wishes would preuayle with me, my purpose should not
fayle with me; but thither would I high

Boy. As duly, but not as truly, as Bird doth sing on bough.

Enter Fluellen.

Flu. Vp to the breach, you Dogges; auaunt you Cullions

Pist. Be mercifull great Duke to men of Mould: abate thy Rage, abate
thy manly Rage; abate thy Rage, great Duke. Good Bawcock bate thy Rage:
vse lenitie sweet Chuck

Nim. These be good humors: your Honor wins bad humors.

Enter.

Boy. As young as I am, I haue obseru'd these three Swashers: I am Boy
to them all three, but all they three, though they would serue me,
could not be Man to me; for indeed three such Antiques doe not amount
to a man: for Bardolph, hee is white-liuer'd, and red-fac'd; by the
meanes whereof, a faces it out, but fights not: for Pistoll, hee hath a
killing Tongue, and a quiet Sword; by the meanes whereof, a breakes
Words, and keepes whole Weapons: for Nim, hee hath heard, that men of
few Words are the best men, and therefore hee scornes to say his
Prayers, lest a should be thought a Coward: but his few bad Words are
matcht with as few good Deeds; for a neuer broke any mans Head but his
owne, and that was against a Post, when he was drunke. They will steale
any thing, and call it Purchase. Bardolph stole a Lute-case, bore it
twelue Leagues, and sold it for three halfepence. Nim and Bardolph are
sworne Brothers in filching: and in Callice they stole a fire-shouell.
I knew by that peece of Seruice, the men would carry Coales. They would
haue me as familiar with mens Pockets, as their Gloues or their
Hand-kerchers: which makes much against my Manhood, if I should take
from anothers Pocket, to put into mine; for it is plaine pocketting vp
of Wrongs. I must leaue them, and seeke some better Seruice: their
Villany goes against my weake stomacke, and therefore I must cast it
vp.

Enter.

Enter Gower.

Gower. Captaine Fluellen, you must come presently to the Mynes; the
Duke of Gloucester would speake with you

Flu. To the Mynes? Tell you the Duke, it is not so good to come to
the Mynes: for looke you, the Mynes is not according to the disciplines
of the Warre; the concauities of it is not sufficient: for looke you,
th' athuersarie, you may discusse vnto the Duke, looke you, is digt
himselfe foure yard vnder the Countermines: by Cheshu, I thinke a will
plowe vp all, if there is not better directions

Gower. The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the Order of the Siege is
giuen, is altogether directed by an Irish man, a very valiant Gentleman
yfaith

Welch. It is Captaine Makmorrice, is it not?   Gower. I thinke it
be

Welch. By Cheshu he is an Asse, as in the World, I will verifie as
much in his Beard: he ha's no more directions in the true disciplines
of the Warres, looke you, of the Roman disciplines, then is a
Puppy-dog.

Enter Makmorrice, and Captaine Iamy.

Gower. Here a comes, and the Scots Captaine, Captaine Iamy, with him

Welch. Captaine Iamy is a maruellous falorous Gentleman, that is
certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in th' aunchiant Warres,
vpon my particular knowledge of his directions: by Cheshu he will
maintaine his Argument as well as any Militarie man in the World, in
the disciplines of the Pristine Warres of the Romans

Scot. I say gudday, Captaine Fluellen

Welch. Godden to your Worship, good Captaine Iames

Gower. How now Captaine Mackmorrice, haue you quit the Mynes? haue
the Pioners giuen o're?   Irish. By Chrish Law tish ill done: the Worke
ish giue ouer, the Trompet sound the Retreat. By my Hand I sweare, and
my fathers Soule, the Worke ish ill done: it ish giue ouer: I would
haue blowed vp the Towne, so Chrish saue me law, in an houre. O tish
ill done, tish ill done: by my Hand tish ill done

Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, I beseech you now, will you voutsafe
me, looke you, a few disputations with you, as partly touching or
concerning the disciplines of the Warre, the Roman Warres, in the way
of Argument, looke you, and friendly communication: partly to satisfie
my Opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, looke you, of my Mind: as
touching the direction of the Militarie discipline, that is the Point

Scot. It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud Captens bath, and I sall
quit you with gud leue, as I may pick occasion: that sall I mary

Irish. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish saue me: the day is
hot, and the Weather, and the Warres, and the King, and the Dukes: it
is no time to discourse, the Town is beseech'd: and the Trumpet call vs
to the breech, and we talke, and be Chrish do nothing, tis shame for vs
all: so God sa'me tis shame to stand still, it is shame by my hand: and
there is Throats to be cut, and Workes to be done, and there ish
nothing done, so Christ sa'me law

Scot. By the Mes, ere theise eyes of mine take themselues to
slomber, ayle de gud seruice, or Ile ligge i'th' grund for it; ay, or
goe to death: and Ile pay't as valorously as I may, that sal I suerly
do, that is the breff and the long: mary, I wad full faine heard some
question tween you tway

Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, I thinke, looke you, vnder your
correction, there is not many of your Nation

Irish. Of my Nation? What ish my Nation? Ish a Villaine, and a
Basterd, and a Knaue, and a Rascall. What ish my Nation? Who talkes of
my Nation?

Welch. Looke you, if you take the matter otherwise then is meant,
Captaine Mackmorrice, peraduenture I shall thinke you doe not vse me
with that affabilitie, as in discretion you ought to vse me, looke you,
being as good a man as your selfe, both in the disciplines of Warre,
and in the deriuation of my Birth, and in other particularities

Irish. I doe not know you so good a man as my selfe: so Chrish saue
me, I will cut off your Head

Gower. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other

Scot. A, that's a foule fault.

A Parley.

Gower. The Towne sounds a Parley

Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, when there is more better oportunitie
to be required, looke you, I will be so bold as to tell you, I know the
disciplines of Warre: and there is an end.

Enter.

Enter the King and all his Traine before the Gates.

King. How yet resolues the Gouernour of the Towne? This is the latest
Parle we will admit:

Therefore to our best mercy giue your selues, Or like to men prowd of
destruction,

Defie vs to our worst: for as I am a Souldier, A Name that in my
thoughts becomes me best; If I begin the batt'rie once againe,

I will not leaue the halfe-atchieued Harflew, Till in her ashes she lye
buryed.

The Gates of Mercy shall be all shut vp,

And the flesh'd Souldier, rough and hard of heart, In libertie of
bloody hand, shall raunge

With Conscience wide as Hell, mowing like Grasse Your fresh faire
Virgins, and your flowring Infants. What is it then to me, if impious
Warre,

Arrayed in flames like to the Prince of Fiends, Doe with his smyrcht
complexion all fell feats, Enlynckt to wast and desolation?

What is't to me, when you your selues are cause, If your pure Maydens
fall into the hand

Of hot and forcing Violation?

What Reyne can hold licentious Wickednesse, When downe the Hill he
holds his fierce Carriere? We may as bootlesse spend our vaine Command
Vpon th' enraged Souldiers in their spoyle, As send Precepts to the
Leuiathan, to come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harflew,

Take pitty of your Towne and of your People, Whiles yet my Souldiers
are in my Command, Whiles yet the coole and temperate Wind of Grace
O're-blowes the filthy and contagious Clouds Of heady Murther, Spoyle,
and Villany.

If not: why in a moment looke to see

The blind and bloody Souldier, with foule hand Desire the Locks of your
shrill-shriking Daughters: Your Fathers taken by the siluer Beards,

And their most reuerend Heads dasht to the Walls: Your naked Infants
spitted vpon Pykes,

Whiles the mad Mothers, with their howles confus'd, Doe breake the
Clouds; as did the Wiues of Iewry, At Herods bloody-hunting
slaughter-men.

What say you? Will you yeeld, and this auoyd? Or guiltie in defence, be
thus destroy'd. Enter Gouernour.

Gouer. Our expectation hath this day an end: The Dolphin, whom of
Succours we entreated, Returnes vs, that his Powers are yet not ready,
To rayse so great a Siege: Therefore great King, We yeeld our Towne and
Liues to thy soft Mercy: Enter our Gates, dispose of vs and ours,

For we no longer are defensible

King. Open your Gates: Come Vnckle Exeter, Goe you and enter
Harflew; there remaine, And fortifie it strongly 'gainst the French:
Vse mercy to them all for vs, deare Vnckle. The Winter comming on, and
Sicknesse growing Vpon our Souldiers, we will retyre to Calis. To night
in Harflew will we be your Guest, To morrow for the March are we
addrest.

Flourish, and enter the Towne.

Enter Katherine and an old Gentlewoman.

Kathe. Alice, tu as este en Angleterre, & tu bien parlas le Language

Alice. En peu Madame

Kath. Ie te prie m' ensigniez, il faut que ie apprend a parlen:
Comient appelle vous le main en Anglois?

Alice. Le main il & appelle de Hand

Kath. De Hand

Alice. E le doyts

Kat. Le doyts, ma foy Ie oublie, e doyt mays, ie me souemeray le
doyts ie pense qu'ils ont appelle de fingres, ou de fingres

Alice. Le main de Hand, le doyts le Fingres, ie pense que ie suis le
bon escholier

Kath. I'ay gaynie diux mots d' Anglois vistement, coment appelle
vous le ongles?

Alice. Le ongles, les appellons de Nayles

Kath. De Nayles escoute: dites moy, si ie parle bien: de Hand, de
Fingres, e de Nayles

Alice. C'est bien dict Madame, il & fort bon Anglois

Kath. Dites moy l' Anglois pour le bras

Alice. De Arme, Madame

Kath. E de coudee

Alice. D' Elbow

Kath. D' Elbow: Ie men fay le repiticio de touts les mots que vous
maves, apprins des a present

Alice. Il & trop difficile Madame, comme Ie pense

Kath. Excuse moy Alice escoute, d' Hand, de Fingre, de Nayles, d'
Arma, de Bilbow

Alice. D' Elbow, Madame

Kath. O Seigneur Dieu, ie men oublie d' Elbow, coment appelle vous
le col

Alice. De Nick, Madame

Kath. De Nick, e le menton

Alice. De Chin

Kath. De Sin: le col de Nick, le menton de Sin

Alice. Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur en verite vous pronouncies les mots
ausi droict, que le Natifs d' Angleterre

Kath. Ie ne doute point d' apprendre par de grace de Dieu, & en peu
de temps

Alice. N' aue vos y desia oublie ce que ie vous a ensignie

Kath. Nome ie recitera a vous promptement, d' Hand, de Fingre, de
Maylees

Alice. De Nayles, Madame

Kath. De Nayles, de Arme, de Ilbow

Alice. Sans vostre honeus d' Elbow

Kath. Ainsi de ie d' Elbow, de Nick, & de Sin: coment appelle vous
les pied & de roba

Alice. Le Foot Madame, & le Count

Kath. Le Foot, & le Count: O Seignieur Dieu, il sont le mots de son
mauvais corruptible grosse & impudique, & non pour le Dames de Honeur
d' vser: Ie ne voudray pronouncer ce mots deuant le Seigneurs de
France, pour toute le monde, fo le Foot & le Count, neant moys, Ie
recitera vn autrefoys ma lecon ensembe, d' Hand, de Fingre, de Nayles,
d' Arme, d' Elbow, de Nick, de Sin, de Foot, le Count

Alice. Excellent, Madame

Kath. C'est asses pour vne foyes, alons nous a diner. Enter.

Enter the King of France, the Dolphin, the Constable of France, and

others.

King. 'Tis certaine he hath past the Riuer Some

Const. And if he be not fought withall, my Lord, Let vs not liue in
France: let vs quit all, And giue our Vineyards to a barbarous People

Dolph. O Dieu viuant: Shall a few Sprayes of vs, The emptying of our
Fathers Luxurie,

Our Syens, put in wilde and sauage Stock, Spirt vp so suddenly into the
Clouds,

And ouer-looke their Grafters?

Brit. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards: Mort du ma vie,
if they march along

Vnfought withall, but I will sell my Dukedome, To buy a slobbry and a
durtie Farme

In that nooke-shotten Ile of Albion

Const. Dieu de Battailes, where haue they this mettell? Is not their
Clymate foggy, raw, and dull? On whom, as in despight, the Sunne lookes
pale, Killing their Fruit with frownes. Can sodden Water, A Drench for
sur-reyn'd Iades, their Barly broth, Decoct their cold blood to such
valiant heat? And shall our quick blood, spirited with Wine, Seeme
frostie? O, for honor of our Land,

Let vs not hang like roping Isyckles

Vpon our Houses Thatch, whiles a more frostie People Sweat drops of
gallant Youth in our rich fields: Poore we call them, in their Natiue
Lords

Dolphin. By Faith and Honor,

Our Madames mock at vs, and plainely say, Our Mettell is bred out, and
they will giue Their bodyes to the Lust of English Youth, To new-store
France with Bastard Warriors

Brit. They bid vs to the English Dancing-Schooles, And teach
Lauolta's high, and swift Carranto's, Saying, our Grace is onely in our
Heeles, And that we are most loftie Run-awayes

King. Where is Montioy the Herald? speed him hence, Let him greet
England with our sharpe defiance. Vp Princes, and with spirit of Honor
edged, More sharper then your Swords, high to the field: Charles
Delabreth, High Constable of France, You Dukes of Orleance, Burbon, and
of Berry, Alanson, Brabant, Bar, and Burgonie,

Iaques Chattillion, Rambures, Vandemont,

Beumont, Grand Pree, Roussi, and Faulconbridge, Loys, Lestrale,
Bouciquall, and Charaloyes, High Dukes, great Princes, Barons, Lords,
and Kings; For your great Seats, now quit you of great shames: Barre
Harry England, that sweepes through our Land With Penons painted in the
blood of Harflew: Rush on his Hoast, as doth the melted Snow Vpon the
Valleyes, whose low Vassall Seat, The Alpes doth spit, and void his
rhewme vpon. Goe downe vpon him, you haue Power enough, And in a
Captiue Chariot, into Roan

Bring him our Prisoner

Const. This becomes the Great.

Sorry am I his numbers are so few,

His Souldiers sick, and famisht in their March: For I am sure, when he
shall see our Army, Hee'le drop his heart into the sinck of feare, And
for atchieuement, offer vs his Ransome

King. Therefore Lord Constable, hast on Montioy, And let him say to
England, that we send, To know what willing Ransome he will giue.
Prince Dolphin, you shall stay with vs in Roan

Dolph. Not so, I doe beseech your Maiestie

King. Be patient, for you shall remaine with vs. Now forth Lord
Constable, and Princes all, And quickly bring vs word of Englands
fall.

Exeunt.

Enter Captaines, English and Welch, Gower and Fluellen.

Gower. How now Captaine Fluellen, come you from the Bridge?

Flu. I assure you, there is very excellent Seruices committed at the
Bridge

Gower. Is the Duke of Exeter safe?

Flu. The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon, and a man
that I loue and honour with my soule, and my heart, and my dutie, and
my liue, and my liuing, and my vttermost power. He is not, God be
praysed and blessed, any hurt in the World, but keepes the Bridge most
valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an aunchient Lieutenant
there at the Pridge, I thinke in my very conscience hee is as valiant a
man as Marke Anthony, and hee is a man of no estimation in the World,
but I did see him doe as gallant seruice

Gower. What doe you call him?

Flu. Hee is call'd aunchient Pistoll

Gower. I know him not.

Enter Pistoll.

Flu. Here is the man

Pist. Captaine, I thee beseech to doe me fauours: the Duke of Exeter
doth loue thee well

Flu. I, I prayse God, and I haue merited some loue at his hands

Pist. Bardolph, a Souldier firme and sound of heart, and of buxome
valour, hath by cruell Fate, and giddie Fortunes furious fickle Wheele,
that Goddesse blind, that stands vpon the rolling restlesse Stone

Flu. By your patience, aunchient Pistoll: Fortune is painted blinde,
with a Muffler afore his eyes, to signifie to you, that Fortune is
blinde; and shee is painted also with a Wheele, to signifie to you,
which is the Morall of it, that shee is turning and inconstant, and
mutabilitie, and variation: and her foot, looke you, is fixed vpon a
Sphericall Stone, which rowles, and rowles, and rowles: in good truth,
the Poet makes a most excellent description of it: Fortune is an
excellent Morall

Pist. Fortune is Bardolphs foe, and frownes on him: for he hath
stolne a Pax, and hanged must a be: a damned death: let Gallowes gape
for Dogge, let Man goe free, and let not Hempe his Wind-pipe suffocate:
but Exeter hath giuen the doome of death, for Pax of little price.
Therefore goe speake, the Duke will heare thy voyce; and let not
Bardolphs vitall thred bee cut with edge of Penny-Cord, and vile
reproach. Speake Captaine for his Life, and I will thee requite

Flu. Aunchient Pistoll, I doe partly vnderstand your meaning

Pist. Why then reioyce therefore

Flu. Certainly Aunchient, it is not a thing to reioyce at: for if,
looke you, he were my Brother, I would desire the Duke to vse his good
pleasure, and put him to execution; for discipline ought to be vsed

Pist. Dye, and be dam'd, and Figo for thy friendship

Flu. It is well

Pist. The Figge of Spaine.

Enter.

Flu. Very good

Gower. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit Rascall, I remember him
now: a Bawd, a Cut-purse

Flu. Ile assure you, a vtt'red as praue words at the Pridge, as you
shall see in a Summers day: but it is very well: what he ha's spoke to
me, that is well I warrant you, when time is serue

Gower. Why 'tis a Gull, a Foole, a Rogue, that now and then goes to
the Warres, to grace himselfe at his returne into London, vnder the
forme of a Souldier: and such fellowes are perfit in the Great
Commanders Names, and they will learne you by rote where Seruices were
done; at such and such a Sconce, at such a Breach, at such a Conuoy:
who came off brauely, who was shot, who disgrac'd, what termes the
Enemy stood on: and this they conne perfitly in the phrase of Warre;
which they tricke vp with new-tuned Oathes: and what a Beard of the
Generalls Cut, and a horride Sute of the Campe, will doe among foming
Bottles, and Ale-washt Wits, is wonderfull to be thought on: but you
must learne to know such slanders of the age, or else you may be
maruellously mistooke

Flu. I tell you what, Captaine Gower: I doe perceiue hee is not the
man that hee would gladly make shew to the World hee is: if I finde a
hole in his Coat, I will tell him my minde: hearke you, the King is
comming, and I must speake with him from the Pridge.

Drum and Colours. Enter the King and his poore Souldiers.

Flu. God plesse your Maiestie

King. How now Fluellen, cam'st thou from the Bridge?   Flu. I, so
please your Maiestie: The Duke of Exeter ha's very gallantly maintain'd
the Pridge; the French is gone off, looke you, and there is gallant and
most praue passages: marry, th' athuersarie was haue possession of the
Pridge, but he is enforced to retyre, and the Duke of Exeter is Master
of the Pridge: I can tell your Maiestie, the Duke is a praue man

King. What men haue you lost, Fluellen?   Flu. The perdition of th'
athuersarie hath beene very great, reasonnable great: marry for my
part, I thinke the Duke hath lost neuer a man, but one that is like to
be executed for robbing a Church, one Bardolph, if your Maiestie know
the man: his face is all bubukles and whelkes, and knobs, and flames a
fire, and his lippes blowes at his nose, and it is like a coale of
fire, sometimes plew, and sometimes red, but his nose is executed, and
his fire's out

King. Wee would haue all such offendors so cut off: and we giue
expresse charge, that in our Marches through the Countrey, there be
nothing compell'd from the Villages; nothing taken, but pay'd for: none
of the French vpbrayded or abused in disdainefull Language; for when
Leuitie and Crueltie play for a Kingdome, the gentler Gamester is the
soonest winner.

Tucket. Enter Mountioy.

Mountioy. You know me by my habit

King. Well then, I know thee: what shall I know of thee?

Mountioy. My Masters mind

King. Vnfold it

Mountioy. Thus sayes my King: Say thou to Harry of England, Though
we seem'd dead, we did but sleepe: Aduantage is a better Souldier then
rashnesse. Tell him, wee could haue rebuk'd him at Harflewe, but that
wee thought not good to bruise an iniurie, till it were full ripe. Now
wee speake vpon our Q. and our voyce is imperiall: England shall repent
his folly, see his weakenesse, and admire our sufferance. Bid him
therefore consider of his ransome, which must proportion the losses we
haue borne, the subiects we haue lost, the disgrace we haue digested;
which in weight to re-answer, his pettinesse would bow vnder. For our
losses, his Exchequer is too poore; for th' effusion of our bloud, the
Muster of his Kingdome too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his
owne person kneeling at our feet, but a weake and worthlesse
satisfaction. To this adde defiance: and tell him for conclusion, he
hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is pronounc't: So farre
my King and Master; so much my Office

King. What is thy name? I know thy qualitie

Mount. Mountioy

King. Thou doo'st thy Office fairely. Turne thee backe, And tell thy
King, I doe not seeke him now, But could be willing to march on to
Callice, Without impeachment: for to say the sooth, Though 'tis no
wisdome to confesse so much Vnto an enemie of Craft and Vantage,

My people are with sicknesse much enfeebled, My numbers lessen'd: and
those few I haue, Almost no better then so many French;

Who when they were in health, I tell thee Herald, I thought, vpon one
payre of English Legges Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgiue me God,
That I doe bragge thus; this your ayre of France Hath blowne that vice
in me. I must repent: Goe therefore tell thy Master, heere I am; My
Ransome, is this frayle and worthlesse Trunke; My Army, but a weake and
sickly Guard:

Yet God before, tell him we will come on, Though France himselfe, and
such another Neighbor Stand in our way. There's for thy labour
Mountioy. Goe bid thy Master well aduise himselfe.

If we may passe, we will: if we be hindred, We shall your tawnie ground
with your red blood Discolour: and so Mountioy, fare you well. The
summe of all our Answer is but this:

We would not seeke a Battaile as we are,

Nor as we are, we say we will not shun it: So tell your Master

Mount. I shall deliuer so: Thankes to your Highnesse

Glouc. I hope they will not come vpon vs now

King. We are in Gods hand, Brother, not in theirs: March to the
Bridge, it now drawes toward night, Beyond the Riuer wee'le encampe our
selues, And on to morrow bid them march away.

Exeunt.

Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Ramburs, Orleance, Dolphin,
with

others.

Const. Tut, I haue the best Armour of the World: would it were day

Orleance. You haue an excellent Armour: but let my Horse haue his
due

Const. It is the best Horse of Europe

Orleance. Will it neuer be Morning?

Dolph. My Lord of Orleance, and my Lord High Constable, you talke of
Horse and Armour?

Orleance. You are as well prouided of both, as any Prince in the
World

Dolph. What a long Night is this? I will not change my Horse with
any that treades but on foure postures: ch' ha: he bounds from the
Earth, as if his entrayles were hayres: le Cheual volante, the Pegasus,
ches les narines de feu. When I bestryde him, I soare, I am a Hawke: he
trots the ayre: the Earth sings, when he touches it: the basest horne
of his hoofe, is more Musicall then the Pipe of Hermes

Orleance. Hee's of the colour of the Nutmeg

Dolph. And of the heat of the Ginger. It is a Beast for Perseus: hee
is pure Ayre and Fire; and the dull Elements of Earth and Water neuer
appeare in him, but only in patient stillnesse while his Rider mounts
him: hee is indeede a Horse, and all other Iades you may call Beasts

Const. Indeed my Lord, it is a most absolute and excellent Horse

Dolph. It is the Prince of Palfrayes, his Neigh is like the bidding
of a Monarch, and his countenance enforces Homage

Orleance. No more Cousin

Dolph. Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot from the rising of the
Larke to the lodging of the Lambe, varie deserued prayse on my Palfray:
it is a Theame as fluent as the Sea: Turne the Sands into eloquent
tongues, and my Horse is argument for them all: 'tis a subiect for a
Soueraigne to reason on, and for a Soueraignes Soueraigne to ride on:
And for the World, familiar to vs, and vnknowne, to lay apart their
particular Functions, and wonder at him, I once writ a Sonnet in his
prayse, and began thus, Wonder of Nature

Orleance. I haue heard a Sonnet begin so to ones Mistresse

Dolph. Then did they imitate that which I compos'd to my Courser,
for my Horse is my Mistresse

Orleance. Your Mistresse beares well

Dolph. Me well, which is the prescript prayse and perfection of a
good and particular Mistresse

Const. Nay, for me thought yesterday your Mistresse shrewdly shooke
your back

Dolph. So perhaps did yours

Const. Mine was not bridled

Dolph. O then belike she was old and gentle, and you rode like a
Kerne of Ireland, your French Hose off, and in your strait Strossers

Const. You haue good iudgement in Horsemanship

Dolph. Be warn'd by me then: they that ride so, and ride not warily,
fall into foule Boggs: I had rather haue my Horse to my Mistresse

Const. I had as liue haue my Mistresse a Iade

Dolph. I tell thee Constable, my Mistresse weares his owne hayre

Const. I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a Sow to my
Mistresse

Dolph. Le chien est retourne a son propre vemissement est la leuye
lauee au bourbier: thou mak'st vse of any thing

Const. Yet doe I not vse my Horse for my Mistresse, or any such
Prouerbe, so little kin to the purpose

Ramb. My Lord Constable, the Armour that I saw in your Tent to
night, are those Starres or Sunnes vpon it?   Const. Starres my Lord

Dolph. Some of them will fall to morrow, I hope

Const. And yet my Sky shall not want

Dolph. That may be, for you beare a many superfluously, and 'twere
more honor some were away

Const. Eu'n as your Horse beares your prayses, who would trot as
well, were some of your bragges dismounted

Dolph. Would I were able to loade him with his desert. Will it neuer
be day? I will trot to morrow a mile, and my way shall be paued with
English Faces

Const. I will not say so, for feare I should be fac't out of my way:
but I would it were morning, for I would faine be about the eares of
the English

Ramb. Who will goe to Hazard with me for twentie Prisoners?

Const. You must first goe your selfe to hazard, ere you haue them

Dolph. 'Tis Mid-night, Ile goe arme my selfe. Enter.

Orleance. The Dolphin longs for morning

Ramb. He longs to eate the English

Const. I thinke he will eate all he kills

Orleance. By the white Hand of my Lady, hee's a gallant Prince

Const. Sweare by her Foot, that she may tread out the Oath

Orleance. He is simply the most actiue Gentleman of France

Const. Doing is actiuitie, and he will still be doing

Orleance. He neuer did harme, that I heard of

Const. Nor will doe none to morrow: hee will keepe that good name
still

Orleance. I know him to be valiant

Const. I was told that, by one that knowes him better then you

Orleance. What's hee?

Const. Marry hee told me so himselfe, and hee sayd hee car'd not who
knew it

Orleance. Hee needes not, it is no hidden vertue in him

Const. By my faith Sir, but it is: neuer any body saw it, but his
Lacquey: 'tis a hooded valour, and when it appeares, it will bate

Orleance. Ill will neuer sayd well

Const. I will cap that Prouerbe with, There is flatterie in
friendship

Orleance. And I will take vp that with, Giue the Deuill his due

Const. Well plac't: there stands your friend for the Deuill: haue at
the very eye of that Prouerbe with, A Pox of the Deuill

Orleance. You are the better at Prouerbs, by how much a Fooles Bolt
is soone shot

Const. You haue shot ouer

Orleance. 'Tis not the first time you were ouer-shot. Enter a
Messenger.

Mess. My Lord high Constable, the English lye within fifteene hundred
paces of your Tents

Const. Who hath measur'd the ground?

Mess. The Lord Grandpree

Const. A valiant and most expert Gentleman. Would it were day? Alas
poore Harry of England: hee longs not for the Dawning, as wee doe

Orleance. What a wretched and peeuish fellow is this King of
England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers so farre out of his
knowledge

Const. If the English had any apprehension, they would runne away

Orleance. That they lack: for if their heads had any intellectuall
Armour, they could neuer weare such heauie Head-pieces

Ramb. That Iland of England breedes very valiant Creatures; their
Mastiffes are of vnmatchable courage

Orleance. Foolish Curres, that runne winking into the mouth of a
Russian Beare, and haue their heads crusht like rotten Apples: you may
as well say, that's a valiant Flea, that dare eate his breakefast on
the Lippe of a Lyon

Const. Iust, iust: and the men doe sympathize with the Mastiffes, in
robustious and rough comming on, leauing their Wits with their Wiues:
and then giue them great Meales of Beefe, and Iron and Steele; they
will eate like Wolues, and fight like Deuils

Orleance. I, but these English are shrowdly out of Beefe

Const. Then shall we finde to morrow, they haue only stomackes to
eate, and none to fight. Now is it time to arme: come, shall we about
it?

Orleance. It is now two a Clock: but let me see, by ten Wee shall
haue each a hundred English men.

Exeunt.



Actus Tertius.

Chorus.

Now entertaine coniecture of a time,

When creeping Murmure and the poring Darke Fills the wide Vessell of
the Vniuerse.

From Camp to Camp, through the foule Womb of Night The Humme of eyther
Army stilly sounds;

That the fixt Centinels almost receiue

The secret Whispers of each others Watch. Fire answers fire, and
through their paly flames Each Battaile sees the others vmber'd face.
Steed threatens Steed, in high and boastfull Neighs Piercing the Nights
dull Eare: and from the Tents, The Armourers accomplishing the
Knights,

With busie Hammers closing Riuets vp,

Giue dreadfull note of preparation.

The Countrey Cocks doe crow, the Clocks doe towle: And the third howre
of drowsie Morning nam'd, Prowd of their Numbers, and secure in Soule,
The confident and ouer-lustie French,

Doe the low-rated English play at Dice;

And chide the creeple-tardy-gated Night,

Who like a foule and ougly Witch doth limpe So tediously away. The
poore condemned English, Like Sacrifices, by their watchfull Fires Sit
patiently, and inly ruminate

The Mornings danger: and their gesture sad, Inuesting lanke-leane
Cheekes, and Warre-worne Coats, Presented them vnto the gazing Moone

So many horride Ghosts. O now, who will behold The Royall Captaine of
this ruin'd Band

Walking from Watch to Watch, from Tent to Tent; Let him cry, Prayse and
Glory on his head: For forth he goes, and visits all his Hoast, Bids
them good morrow with a modest Smyle, And calls them Brothers, Friends,
and Countreymen. Vpon his Royall Face there is no note,

How dread an Army hath enrounded him;

Nor doth he dedicate one iot of Colour

Vnto the wearie and all-watched Night:

But freshly lookes, and ouer-beares Attaint, With chearefull semblance,
and sweet Maiestie: That euery Wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his Lookes. A Largesse vniuersall,
like the Sunne,

His liberall Eye doth giue to euery one,

Thawing cold feare, that meane and gentle all Behold, as may
vnworthinesse define.

A little touch of Harry in the Night,

And so our Scene must to the Battaile flye: Where, O for pitty, we
shall much disgrace, With foure or fiue most vile and ragged foyles,
(Right ill dispos'd, in brawle ridiculous) The Name of Agincourt: Yet
sit and see,

Minding true things, by what their Mock'ries bee. Enter.

Enter the King, Bedford, and Gloucester.

King. Gloster, 'tis true that we are in great danger, The greater
therefore should our Courage be. God morrow Brother Bedford: God
Almightie, There is some soule of goodnesse in things euill, Would men
obseruingly distill it out.

For our bad Neighbour makes vs early stirrers, Which is both
healthfull, and good husbandry. Besides, they are our outward
Consciences, And Preachers to vs all; admonishing,

That we should dresse vs fairely for our end. Thus may we gather Honey
from the Weed,

And make a Morall of the Diuell himselfe. Enter Erpingham.

Good morrow old Sir Thomas Erpingham:

A good soft Pillow for that good white Head, Were better then a
churlish turfe of France

Erping. Not so my Liege, this Lodging likes me better, Since I may
say, now lye I like a King

King. 'Tis good for men to loue their present paines, Vpon example,
so the Spirit is eased:

And when the Mind is quickned, out of doubt The Organs, though defunct
and dead before, Breake vp their drowsie Graue, and newly moue With
casted slough, and fresh legeritie.

Lend me thy Cloake Sir Thomas: Brothers both, Commend me to the Princes
in our Campe;

Doe my good morrow to them, and anon

Desire them all to my Pauillion

Gloster. We shall, my Liege

Erping. Shall I attend your Grace?

King. No, my good Knight:

Goe with my Brothers to my Lords of England: I and my Bosome must
debate a while,

And then I would no other company

Erping. The Lord in Heauen blesse thee, Noble Harry.

Exeunt.

King. God a mercy old Heart, thou speak'st chearefully. Enter
Pistoll

Pist. Che vous la?

King. A friend

Pist. Discusse vnto me, art thou Officer, or art thou base, common,
and popular?

King. I am a Gentleman of a Company

Pist. Trayl'st thou the puissant Pyke?   King. Euen so: what are
you?

Pist. As good a Gentleman as the Emperor

King. Then you are a better then the King

Pist. The King's a Bawcock, and a Heart of Gold, a Lad of Life, an
Impe of Fame, of Parents good, of Fist most valiant: I kisse his durtie
shooe, and from heartstring I loue the louely Bully. What is thy Name?
King. Harry le Roy

Pist. Le Roy? a Cornish Name: art thou of Cornish Crew?   King. No,
I am a Welchman

Pist. Know'st thou Fluellen?

King. Yes

Pist. Tell him Ile knock his Leeke about his Pate vpon S[aint].
Dauies day

King. Doe not you weare your Dagger in your Cappe that day, least he
knock that about yours

Pist. Art thou his friend?

King. And his Kinsman too

Pist. The Figo for thee then

King. I thanke you: God be with you

Pist. My name is Pistol call'd.

Enter.

King. It sorts well with your fiercenesse.

Manet King.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Gower. Captaine Fluellen

Flu. 'So, in the Name of Iesu Christ, speake fewer: it is the
greatest admiration in the vniuersall World, when the true and
aunchient Prerogatifes and Lawes of the Warres is not kept: if you
would take the paines but to examine the Warres of Pompey the Great,
you shall finde, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle tadle nor
pibble bable in Pompeyes Campe: I warrant you, you shall finde the
Ceremonies of the Warres, and the Cares of it, and the Formes of it,
and the Sobrietie of it, and the Modestie of it, to be otherwise

Gower. Why the Enemie is lowd, you heare him all Night

Flu. If the Enemie is an Asse and a Foole, and a prating Coxcombe;
is it meet, thinke you, that wee should also, looke you, be an Asse and
a Foole, and a prating Coxcombe, in your owne conscience now?

Gow. I will speake lower

Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you will. Enter.

King. Though it appeare a little out of fashion, There is much care
and valour in this Welchman. Enter three Souldiers, Iohn Bates,
Alexander Court, and Michael Williams.



Court. Brother Iohn Bates, is not that the Morning which breakes
yonder?

Bates. I thinke it be: but wee haue no great cause to desire the
approach of day

Williams. Wee see yonder the beginning of the day, but I thinke wee
shall neuer see the end of it. Who goes there?

King. A Friend

Williams. Vnder what Captaine serue you?   King. Vnder Sir Iohn
Erpingham

Williams. A good old Commander, and a most kinde Gentleman: I pray
you, what thinkes he of our estate?   King. Euen as men wrackt vpon a
Sand, that looke to be washt off the next Tyde

Bates. He hath not told his thought to the King?   King. No: nor it
is not meet he should: for though I speake it to you, I thinke the King
is but a man, as I am: the Violet smells to him, as it doth to me; the
Element shewes to him, as it doth to me; all his Sences haue but humane
Conditions: his Ceremonies layd by, in his Nakednesse he appeares but a
man; and though his affections are higher mounted then ours, yet when
they stoupe, they stoupe with the like wing: therefore, when he sees
reason of feares, as we doe; his feares, out of doubt, be of the same
rellish as ours are: yet in reason, no man should possesse him with any
appearance of feare; least hee, by shewing it, should dis-hearten his
Army

Bates. He may shew what outward courage he will: but I beleeue, as
cold a Night as 'tis, hee could wish himselfe in Thames vp to the Neck;
and so I would he were, and I by him, at all aduentures, so we were
quit here

King. By my troth, I will speake my conscience of the King: I thinke
hee would not wish himselfe any where, but where hee is

Bates. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be
ransomed, and a many poore mens liues saued

King. I dare say, you loue him not so ill, to wish him here alone:
howsoeuer you speake this to feele other mens minds, me thinks I could
not dye any where so contented, as in the Kings company; his Cause
being iust, and his Quarrell honorable

Williams. That's more then we know

Bates. I, or more then wee should seeke after; for wee know enough,
if wee know wee are the Kings Subiects: if his Cause be wrong, our
obedience to the King wipes the Cryme of it out of vs

Williams. But if the Cause be not good, the King himselfe hath a
heauie Reckoning to make, when all those Legges, and Armes, and Heads,
chopt off in a Battaile, shall ioyne together at the latter day, and
cry all, Wee dyed at such a place, some swearing, some crying for a
Surgean; some vpon their Wiues, left poore behind them; some vpon the
Debts they owe, some vpon their Children rawly left: I am afear'd,
there are few dye well, that dye in a Battaile: for how can they
charitably dispose of any thing, when Blood is their argument? Now, if
these men doe not dye well, it will be a black matter for the King,
that led them to it; who to disobey, were against all proportion of
subiection

King. So, if a Sonne that is by his Father sent about Merchandize,
doe sinfully miscarry vpon the Sea; the imputation of his wickednesse,
by your rule, should be imposed vpon his Father that sent him: or if a
Seruant, vnder his Masters command, transporting a summe of Money, be
assayled by Robbers, and dye in many irreconcil'd Iniquities; you may
call the businesse of the Master the author of the Seruants damnation:
but this is not so: The King is not bound to answer the particular
endings of his Souldiers, the Father of his Sonne, nor the Master of
his Seruant; for they purpose not their death, when they purpose their
seruices. Besides, there is no King, be his Cause neuer so spotlesse,
if it come to the arbitrement of Swords, can trye it out with all
vnspotted Souldiers: some (peraduenture) haue on them the guilt of
premeditated and contriued Murther; some, of beguiling Virgins with the
broken Seales of Periurie; some, making the Warres their Bulwarke, that
haue before gored the gentle Bosome of Peace with Pillage and Robberie.
Now, if these men haue defeated the Law, and outrunne Natiue
punishment; though they can out-strip men, they haue no wings to flye
from God. Warre is his Beadle, Warre is his Vengeance: so that here men
are punisht, for before breach of the Kings Lawes, in now the Kings
Quarrell: where they feared the death, they haue borne life away; and
where they would bee safe, they perish. Then if they dye vnprouided, no
more is the King guiltie of their damnation, then hee was before
guiltie of those Impieties, for the which they are now visited. Euery
Subiects Dutie is the Kings, but euery Subiects Soule is his owne.
Therefore should euery Souldier in the Warres doe as euery sicke man in
his Bed, wash euery Moth out of his Conscience: and dying so, Death is
to him aduantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost, wherein
such preparation was gayned: and in him that escapes, it were not sinne
to thinke, that making God so free an offer, he let him outliue that
day, to see his Greatnesse, and to teach others how they should
prepare

Will. 'Tis certaine, euery man that dyes ill, the ill vpon his owne
head, the King is not to answer it

Bates. I doe not desire hee should answer for me, and yet I
determine to fight lustily for him

King. I my selfe heard the King say he would not be ransom'd

Will. I, hee said so, to make vs fight chearefully: but when our
throats are cut, hee may be ransom'd, and wee ne're the wiser

King. If I liue to see it, I will neuer trust his word after

Will. You pay him then: that's a perillous shot out of an Elder
Gunne, that a poore and a priuate displeasure can doe against a
Monarch: you may as well goe about to turne the Sunne to yce, with
fanning in his face with a Peacocks feather: You'le neuer trust his
word after; come, 'tis a foolish saying

King. Your reproofe is something too round, I should be angry with
you, if the time were conuenient

Will. Let it bee a Quarrell betweene vs, if you liue

King. I embrace it

Will. How shall I know thee againe?

King. Giue me any Gage of thine, and I will weare it in my Bonnet:
Then if euer thou dar'st acknowledge it, I will make it my Quarrell

Will. Heere's my Gloue: Giue mee another of thine

King. There

Will. This will I also weare in my Cap: if euer thou come to me, and
say, after to morrow, This is my Gloue, by this Hand I will take thee a
box on the eare

King. If euer I liue to see it, I will challenge it

Will. Thou dar'st as well be hang'd

King. Well, I will doe it, though I take thee in the Kings companie

Will. Keepe thy word: fare thee well

Bates. Be friends you English fooles, be friends, wee haue French
Quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon.

Exit Souldiers.

King. Indeede the French may lay twentie French Crownes to one, they
will beat vs, for they beare them on their shoulders: but it is no
English Treason to cut French Crownes, and to morrow the King himselfe
will be a Clipper.

Vpon the King, let vs our Liues, our Soules, Our Debts, our carefull
Wiues,

Our Children, and our Sinnes, lay on the King: We must beare all.

O hard Condition, Twin-borne with Greatnesse, Subiect to the breath of
euery foole, whose sence No more can feele, but his owne wringing. What
infinite hearts-ease must Kings neglect, That priuate men enioy?

And what haue Kings, that Priuates haue not too, Saue Ceremonie, saue
generall Ceremonie?

And what art thou, thou Idoll Ceremonie?

What kind of God art thou? that suffer'st more Of mortall griefes, then
doe thy worshippers. What are thy Rents? what are thy Commings in? O
Ceremonie, shew me but thy worth.

What? is thy Soule of Odoration?

Art thou ought else but Place, Degree, and Forme, Creating awe and
feare in other men?

Wherein thou art lesse happy, being fear'd, Then they in fearing.

What drink'st thou oft, in stead of Homage sweet, But poyson'd
flatterie? O, be sick, great Greatnesse, And bid thy Ceremonie giue
thee cure.

Thinks thou the fierie Feuer will goe out With Titles blowne from
Adulation?

Will it giue place to flexure and low bending? Canst thou, when thou
command'st the beggers knee, Command the health of it? No, thou prowd
Dreame, That play'st so subtilly with a Kings Repose. I am a King that
find thee: and I know,

'Tis not the Balme, the Scepter, and the Ball, The Sword, the Mase, the
Crowne Imperiall, The enter-tissued Robe of Gold and Pearle, The farsed
Title running 'fore the King,

The Throne he sits on: nor the Tyde of Pompe, That beates vpon the high
shore of this World: No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous Ceremonie; Not
all these, lay'd in Bed Maiesticall,

Can sleepe so soundly, as the wretched Slaue: Who with a body fill'd,
and vacant mind,

Gets him to rest, cram'd with distressefull bread, Neuer sees horride
Night, the Child of Hell: But like a Lacquey, from the Rise to Set,
Sweates in the eye of Phebus; and all Night Sleepes in Elizium: next
day after dawne, Doth rise and helpe Hiperio[n] to his Horse, And
followes so the euer-running yeere

With profitable labour to his Graue:

And but for Ceremonie, such a Wretch,

Winding vp Dayes with toyle, and Nights with sleepe, Had the fore-hand
and vantage of a King.

The Slaue, a Member of the Countreyes peace, Enioyes it; but in grosse
braine little wots, What watch the King keepes, to maintaine the peace;
Whose howres, the Pesant best aduantages. Enter Erpingham.

Erp. My Lord, your Nobles iealous of your absence, Seeke through your
Campe to find you

King. Good old Knight, collect them all together At my Tent: Ile be
before thee

Erp. I shall doo't, my Lord.

Enter.

King. O God of Battailes, steele my Souldiers hearts, Possesse them
not with feare: Take from them now The sence of reckning of th' opposed
numbers: Pluck their hearts from them. Not to day, O Lord, O not to
day, thinke not vpon the fault

My Father made, in compassing the Crowne. I Richards body haue interred
new,

And on it haue bestowed more contrite teares, Then from it issued
forced drops of blood. Fiue hundred poore I haue in yeerely pay, Who
twice a day their wither'd hands hold vp Toward Heauen, to pardon
blood:

And I haue built two Chauntries,

Where the sad and solemne Priests sing still For Richards Soule. More
will I doe:

Though all that I can doe, is nothing worth; Since that my Penitence
comes after all,

Imploring pardon.

Enter Gloucester.

Glouc. My Liege

King. My Brother Gloucesters voyce? I: I know thy errand, I will goe
with thee:

The day, my friend, and all things stay for me.

Exeunt.

Enter the Dolphin, Orleance, Ramburs, and Beaumont.

Orleance. The Sunne doth gild our Armour vp, my Lords

Dolph. Monte Cheual: My Horse, Verlot Lacquay: Ha

Orleance. Oh braue Spirit

Dolph. Via les ewes & terre

Orleance. Rien puis le air & feu

Dolph. Cein, Cousin Orleance.

Enter Constable.

Now my Lord Constable?

Const. Hearke how our Steedes, for present Seruice neigh

Dolph. Mount them, and make incision in their Hides, That their hot
blood may spin in English eyes, And doubt them with superfluous
courage: ha

Ram. What, wil you haue them weep our Horses blood? How shall we
then behold their naturall teares? Enter Messenger.

Messeng. The English are embattail'd, you French Peeres

Const. To Horse you gallant Princes, straight to Horse. Doe but
behold yond poore and starued Band, And your faire shew shall suck away
their Soules, Leauing them but the shales and huskes of men. There is
not worke enough for all our hands, Scarce blood enough in all their
sickly Veines, To giue each naked Curtleax a stayne,

That our French Gallants shall to day draw out, And sheath for lack of
sport. Let vs but blow on them, The vapour of our Valour will
o're-turne them. 'Tis positiue against all exceptions, Lords, That our
superfluous Lacquies, and our Pesants, Who in vnnecessarie action
swarme

About our Squares of Battaile, were enow

To purge this field of such a hilding Foe; Though we vpon this
Mountaines Basis by,

Tooke stand for idle speculation:

But that our Honours must not. What's to say? A very little little let
vs doe,

And all is done: then let the Trumpets sound The Tucket Sonuance, and
the Note to mount: For our approach shall so much dare the field, That
England shall couch downe in feare, and yeeld. Enter Graundpree.

Grandpree. Why do you stay so long, my Lords of France? Yond Iland
Carrions, desperate of their bones, Ill-fauoredly become the Morning
field:

Their ragged Curtaines poorely are let loose, And our Ayre shakes them
passing scornefully. Bigge Mars seemes banqu'rout in their begger'd
Hoast, And faintly through a rustie Beuer peepes. The Horsemen sit like
fixed Candlesticks, With Torch-staues in their hand: and their poore
Iades Lob downe their heads, dropping the hides and hips: The gumme
downe roping from their pale-dead eyes, And in their pale dull mouthes
the Iymold Bitt Lyes foule with chaw'd-grasse, still and motionlesse.
And their executors, the knauish Crowes,

Flye o're them all, impatient for their howre. Description cannot sute
it selfe in words, To demonstrate the Life of such a Battaile, In life
so liuelesse, as it shewes it selfe

Const. They haue said their prayers,

And they stay for death

Dolph. Shall we goe send them Dinners, and fresh Sutes, And giue
their fasting Horses Prouender,

And after fight with them?

Const. I stay but for my Guard: on

To the field, I will the Banner from a Trumpet take, And vse it for my
haste. Come, come away, The Sunne is high, and we out-weare the day.

Exeunt.

Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham with all his Hoast:
Salisbury, and Westmerland.

Glouc. Where is the King?

Bedf. The King himselfe is rode to view their Battaile

West. Of fighting men they haue full threescore thousand

Exe. There's fiue to one, besides they all are fresh

Salisb. Gods Arme strike with vs, 'tis a fearefull oddes. God buy'
you Princes all; Ile to my Charge: If we no more meet, till we meet in
Heauen; Then ioyfully, my Noble Lord of Bedford,

My deare Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter, And my kind Kinsman,
Warriors all, adieu

Bedf. Farwell good Salisbury, & good luck go with thee: And yet I
doe thee wrong, to mind thee of it, For thou art fram'd of the firme
truth of valour

Exe. Farwell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day

Bedf. He is as full of Valour as of Kindnesse, Princely in both.

Enter the King.

West. O that we now had here

But one ten thousand of those men in England, That doe no worke to day

King. What's he that wishes so?

My Cousin Westmerland. No, my faire Cousin: If we are markt to dye, we
are enow

To doe our Countrey losse: and if to liue, The fewer men, the greater
share of honour. Gods will, I pray thee wish not one man more. By Ioue,
I am not couetous for Gold,

Nor care I who doth feed vpon my cost:

It yernes me not, if men my Garments weare; Such outward things dwell
not in my desires. But if it be a sinne to couet Honor,

I am the most offending Soule aliue.

No 'faith, my Couze, wish not a man from England: Gods peace, I would
not loose so great an Honor, As one man more me thinkes would share
from me, For the best hope I haue. O, doe not wish one more: Rather
proclaime it (Westmerland) through my Hoast, That he which hath no
stomack to this fight, Let him depart, his Pasport shall be made, And
Crownes for Conuoy put into his Purse: We would not dye in that mans
companie,

That feares his fellowship, to dye with vs. This day is call'd the
Feast of Crispian: He that out-liues this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named, And rowse him at the Name
of Crispian.

He that shall see this day, and liue old age, Will yeerely on the Vigil
feast his neighbours, And say, to morrow is Saint Crispian.

Then will he strip his sleeue, and shew his skarres: Old men forget;
yet all shall be forgot:

But hee'le remember, with aduantages,

What feats he did that day. Then shall our Names, Familiar in his mouth
as household words, Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester, Be in their flowing Cups
freshly remembred. This story shall the good man teach his sonne: And
Crispine Crispian shall ne're goe by, From this day to the ending of
the World, But we in it shall be remembred;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers: For he to day that sheds his
blood with me, Shall be my brother: be he ne're so vile, This day shall
gentle his Condition.

And Gentlemen in England, now a bed,

Shall thinke themselues accurst they were not here; And hold their
Manhoods cheape, whiles any speakes, That fought with vs vpon Saint
Crispines day. Enter Salisbury.

Sal. My Soueraign Lord, bestow your selfe with speed: The French are
brauely in their battailes set, And will with all expedience charge on
vs

King. All things are ready, if our minds be so

West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward now

King. Thou do'st not wish more helpe from England, Couze?

West. Gods will, my Liege, would you and I alone, Without more helpe,
could fight this Royall battaile

King. Why now thou hast vnwisht fiue thousand men: Which likes me
better, then to wish vs one. You know your places: God be with you
all.

Tucket. Enter Montioy.

Mont. Once more I come to know of thee King Harry, If for thy Ransome
thou wilt now compound, Before thy most assured Ouerthrow:

For certainly, thou art so neere the Gulfe, Thou needs must be
englutted. Besides, in mercy The Constable desires thee, thou wilt mind
Thy followers of Repentance; that their Soules May make a peacefull and
a sweet retyre

From off these fields: where (wretches) their poore bodies Must lye and
fester

King. Who hath sent thee now?

Mont. The Constable of France

King. I pray thee beare my former Answer back: Bid them atchieue me,
and then sell my bones. Good God, why should they mock poore fellowes
thus? The man that once did sell the Lyons skin While the beast liu'd,
was kill'd with hunting him. A many of our bodyes shall no doubt

Find Natiue Graues: vpon the which, I trust Shall witnesse liue in
Brasse of this dayes worke. And those that leaue their valiant bones in
France, Dying like men, though buryed in your Dunghills, They shall be
fam'd: for there the Sun shall greet them, And draw their honors
reeking vp to Heauen, Leauing their earthly parts to choake your Clyme,
The smell whereof shall breed a Plague in France. Marke then abounding
valour in our English: That being dead, like to the bullets crasing,
Breake out into a second course of mischiefe, Killing in relapse of
Mortalitie.

Let me speake prowdly: Tell the Constable, We are but Warriors for the
working day:

Our Gaynesse and our Gilt are all besmyrcht With raynie Marching in the
painefull field. There's not a piece of feather in our Hoast: Good
argument (I hope) we will not flye:

And time hath worne vs into slouenrie.

But by the Masse, our hearts are in the trim: And my poore Souldiers
tell me, yet ere Night, They'le be in fresher Robes, or they will pluck
The gay new Coats o're the French Souldiers heads, And turne them out
of seruice. If they doe this, As if God please, they shall; my Ransome
then Will soone be leuyed.

Herauld, saue thou thy labour:

Come thou no more for Ransome, gentle Herauld, They shall haue none, I
sweare, but these my ioynts: Which if they haue, as I will leaue vm
them, Shall yeeld them little, tell the Constable

Mont. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well: Thou neuer shalt
heare Herauld any more.

Enter.

King. I feare thou wilt once more come againe for a Ransome.

Enter Yorke.

Yorke. My Lord, most humbly on my knee I begge The leading of the
Vaward

King. Take it, braue Yorke.

Now Souldiers march away,

And how thou pleasest God, dispose the day.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter Pistoll, French Souldier, Boy.

Pist. Yeeld Curre

French. Ie pense que vous estes le Gentilhome de bon qualitee

Pist. Qualtitie calmie custure me. Art thou a Gentleman? What is thy
Name? discusse

French. O Seigneur Dieu

Pist. O Signieur Dewe should be a Gentleman: perpend my words O
Signieur Dewe, and marke: O Signieur Dewe, thou dyest on point of Fox,
except O Signieur thou doe giue to me egregious Ransome

French. O prennes miserecordie aye pitez de moy

Pist. Moy shall not serue, I will haue fortie Moyes: for I will
fetch thy rymme out at thy Throat, in droppes of Crimson blood

French. Est il impossible d' eschapper le force de ton bras

Pist. Brasse, Curre? thou damned and luxurious Mountaine Goat,
offer'st me Brasse?

French. O perdonne moy

Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a Tonne of Moyes? Come hither boy,
aske me this slaue in French what is his Name

Boy. Escoute comment estes vous appelle?   French. Mounsieur le Fer

Boy. He sayes his Name is M. Fer

Pist. M. Fer: Ile fer him, and firke him, and ferret him: discusse
the same in French vnto him

Boy. I doe not know the French for fer, and ferret, and firke

Pist. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat

French. Que dit il Mounsieur?

Boy. Il me commande a vous dire que vous faite vous prest, car ce
soldat icy est disposee tout asture de couppes vostre gorge

Pist. Owy, cuppele gorge permafoy pesant, vnlesse thou giue me
Crownes, braue Crownes; or mangled shalt thou be by this my Sword

French. O Ie vous supplie pour l' amour de Dieu: ma pardonner, Ie
suis le Gentilhome de bon maison, garde ma vie, & Ie vous donneray deux
cent escus

Pist. What are his words?

Boy. He prayes you to saue his life, he is a Gentleman of a good
house, and for his ransom he will giue you two hundred Crownes

Pist. Tell him my fury shall abate, and I the Crownes will take

Fren. Petit Monsieur que dit il?

Boy. Encore qu'il et contra son Iurement, de pardonner aucune
prisonner: neantmons pour les escues que vous layt a promets, il est
content a vous donnes le liberte le franchisement

Fre. Sur mes genoux se vous donnes milles remercious, et Ie me
estime heurex que Ie intombe, entre les main d' vn Cheualier Ie pense
le plus braue valiant et tres distime signieur d' Angleterre

Pist. Expound vnto me boy

Boy. He giues you vpon his knees a thousand thanks, and he esteemes
himselfe happy, that he hath falne into the hands of one (as he
thinkes) the most braue, valorous and thrice-worthy signeur of England

Pist. As I sucke blood, I will some mercy shew. Follow mee

Boy. Saaue vous le grand Capitaine?

I did neuer know so full a voyce issue from so emptie a heart: but the
saying is true, The empty vessel makes the greatest sound, Bardolfe and
Nym had tenne times more valour, then this roaring diuell i'th olde
play, that euerie one may payre his nayles with a woodden dagger, and
they are both hang'd, and so would this be, if hee durst steale any
thing aduenturously. I must stay with the Lackies with the luggage of
our camp, the French might haue a good pray of vs, if he knew of it,
for there is none to guard it but boyes.

Enter.

Enter Constable, Orleance, Burbon, Dolphin, and Rambures.

Con. O Diable

Orl. O signeur le iour et perdia, toute et perdie

Dol. Mor Dieu ma vie, all is confounded all, Reproach, and
euerlasting shame

Sits mocking in our Plumes.

A short Alarum.

O meschante Fortune, do not runne away

Con. Why all our rankes are broke

Dol. O perdurable shame, let's stab our selues: Be these the
wretches that we plaid at dice for?   Orl. Is this the King we sent
too, for his ransome?   Bur. Shame, and eternall shame, nothing but
shame, Let vs dye in once more backe againe,

And he that will not follow Burbon now,

Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand Like a base Pander hold the
Chamber doore, Whilst a base slaue, no gentler then my dogge, His
fairest daughter is contaminated

Con. Disorder that hath spoyl'd vs, friend vs now, Let vs on heapes
go offer vp our liues

Orl. We are enow yet liuing in the Field, To smother vp the English
in our throngs, If any order might be thought vpon

Bur. The diuell take Order now, Ile to the throng; Let life be
short, else shame will be too long. Enter.

Alarum. Enter the King and his trayne, with Prisoners.

King. Well haue we done, thrice-valiant Countrimen, But all's not
done, yet keepe the French the field

Exe. The D[uke]. of York commends him to your Maiesty   King. Liues
he good Vnckle: thrice within this houre I saw him downe; thrice vp
againe, and fighting, From Helmet to the spurre, all blood he was

Exe. In which array (braue Soldier) doth he lye, Larding the plaine:
and by his bloody side, (Yoake-fellow to his honour-owing-wounds) The
Noble Earle of Suffolke also lyes.

Suffolke first dyed, and Yorke all hagled ouer Comes to him, where in
gore he lay insteeped, And takes him by the Beard, kisses the gashes
That bloodily did yawne vpon his face.

He cryes aloud; Tarry my Cosin Suffolke,

My soule shall thine keepe company to heauen: Tarry (sweet soule) for
mine, then flye a-brest: As in this glorious and well-foughten field We
kept together in our Chiualrie.

Vpon these words I came, and cheer'd him vp, He smil'd me in the face,
raught me his hand, And with a feeble gripe, sayes: Deere my Lord,
Commend my seruice to my Soueraigne,

So did he turne, and ouer Suffolkes necke He threw his wounded arme,
and kist his lippes, And so espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd A
Testament of Noble-ending-loue:

The prettie and sweet manner of it forc'd Those waters from me, which I
would haue stop'd, But I had not so much of man in mee,

And all my mother came into mine eyes,

And gaue me vp to teares

King. I blame you not,

For hearing this, I must perforce compound With mixtfull eyes, or they
will issue to.

Alarum

But hearke, what new alarum is this same? The French haue re-enforc'd
their scatter'd men: Then euery souldiour kill his Prisoners,

Giue the word through.

Exit



Actus Quartus.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Flu. Kill the poyes and the luggage, 'Tis expressely against the Law
of Armes, tis as arrant a peece of knauery marke you now, as can bee
offert in your Conscience now, is it not?

Gow. Tis certaine, there's not a boy left aliue, and the Cowardly
Rascalls that ranne from the battaile ha' done this slaughter: besides
they haue burned and carried away all that was in the Kings Tent,
wherefore the King most worthily hath caus'd euery soldiour to cut his
prisoners throat. O 'tis a gallant King

Flu. I, hee was porne at Monmouth Captaine Gower: What call you the
Townes name where Alexander the pig was borne?

Gow. Alexander the Great

Flu. Why I pray you, is not pig, great? The pig, or the great, or
the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings,
saue the phrase is a litle variations

Gower. I thinke Alexander the Great was borne in Macedon, his Father
was called Phillip of Macedon, as I take it

Flu. I thinke it is in Macedon where Alexander is porne: I tell you
Captaine, if you looke in the Maps of the Orld, I warrant you sall
finde in the comparisons betweene Macedon & Monmouth, that the
situations looke you, is both alike. There is a Riuer in Macedon, &
there is also moreouer a Riuer at Monmouth, it is call'd Wye at
Monmouth: but it is out of my praines, what is the name of the other
Riuer: but 'tis all one, tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and
there is Salmons in both. If you marke Alexanders life well, Harry of
Monmouthes life is come after it indifferent well, for there is figures
in all things. Alexander God knowes, and you know, in his rages, and
his furies, and his wraths, and his chollers, and his moodes, and his
displeasures, and his indignations, and also being a little intoxicates
in his praines, did in his Ales and his angers (looke you) kill his
best friend Clytus

Gow. Our King is not like him in that, he neuer kill'd any of his
friends

Flu. It is not well done (marke you now) to take the tales out of my
mouth, ere it is made and finished. I speak but in the figures, and
comparisons of it: as Alexander kild his friend Clytus, being in his
Ales and his Cuppes; so also Harry Monmouth being in his right wittes,
and his good iudgements, turn'd away the fat Knight with the great
belly doublet: he was full of iests, and gypes, and knaueries, and
mockes, I haue forgot his name

Gow. Sir Iohn Falstaffe

Flu. That is he: Ile tell you, there is good men porne at Monmouth

Gow. Heere comes his Maiesty.

Alarum. Enter King Harry and Burbon with prisoners. Flourish.

King. I was not angry since I came to France, Vntill this instant.
Take a Trumpet Herald, Ride thou vnto the Horsemen on yond hill: If
they will fight with vs, bid them come downe, Or voyde the field: they
do offend our sight. If they'l do neither, we will come to them, And
make them sker away, as swift as stones Enforced from the old Assyrian
slings:

Besides, wee'l cut the throats of those we haue, And not a man of them
that we shall take, Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so. Enter
Montioy.

Exe. Here comes the Herald of the French, my Liege   Glou. His eyes
are humbler then they vs'd to be

King. How now, what meanes this Herald? Knowst thou not,

That I haue fin'd these bones of mine for ransome? Com'st thou againe
for ransome?

Her. No great King:

I come to thee for charitable License,

That we may wander ore this bloody field, To booke our dead, and then
to bury them, To sort our Nobles from our common men.

For many of our Princes (woe the while)

Lye drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood: So do our vulgar drench
their peasant limbes In blood of Princes, and with wounded steeds Fret
fet-locke deepe in gore, and with wilde rage Yerke out their armed
heeles at their dead masters, Killing them twice. O giue vs leaue great
King, To view the field in safety, and dispose

Of their dead bodies

Kin. I tell thee truly Herald,

I know not if the day be ours or no,

For yet a many of your horsemen peere,

And gallop ore the field

Her. The day is yours

Kin. Praised be God, and not our strength for it: What is this
Castle call'd that stands hard by

Her. They call it Agincourt

King. Then call we this the field of Agincourt, Fought on the day of
Crispin Crispianus

Flu. Your Grandfather of famous memory (an't please your Maiesty)
and your great Vncle Edward the Placke Prince of Wales, as I haue read
in the Chronicles, fought a most praue pattle here in France

Kin. They did Fluellen

Flu. Your Maiesty sayes very true: If your Maiesties is remembred of
it, the Welchmen did good seruice in a Garden where Leekes did grow,
wearing Leekes in their Monmouth caps, which your Maiesty know to this
houre is an honourable badge of the seruice: And I do beleeue your
Maiesty takes no scorne to weare the Leeke vppon S[aint]. Tauies day

King. I weare it for a memorable honor: For I am Welch you know good
Countriman

Flu. All the water in Wye, cannot wash your Maiesties Welsh plood
out of your pody, I can tell you that: God plesse it, and preserue it,
as long as it pleases his Grace, and his Maiesty too

Kin. Thankes good my Countrymen

Flu. By Ieshu, I am your Maiesties Countreyman, I care not who know
it: I will confesse it to all the Orld, I need not to be ashamed of
your Maiesty, praised be God so long as your Maiesty is an honest man

King. Good keepe me so.

Enter Williams.

Our Heralds go with him,

Bring me iust notice of the numbers dead

On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither

Exe. Souldier, you must come to the King

Kin. Souldier, why wear'st thou that Gloue in thy Cappe?

Will. And't please your Maiesty, tis the gage of one that I should
fight withall, if he be aliue

Kin. An Englishman?

Wil. And't please your Maiesty, a Rascall that swagger'd with me last
night: who if aliue, and euer dare to challenge this Gloue, I haue
sworne to take him a boxe a'th ere: or if I can see my Gloue in his
cappe, which he swore as he was a Souldier he would weare (if aliue) I
wil strike it out soundly

Kin. What thinke you Captaine Fluellen, is it fit this souldier
keepe his oath

Flu. Hee is a Crauen and a Villaine else, and't please your Maiesty
in my conscience

King. It may bee, his enemy is a Gentleman of great sort quite from
the answer of his degree

Flu. Though he be as good a Ientleman as the diuel is, as Lucifer
and Belzebub himselfe, it is necessary (looke your Grace) that he keepe
his vow and his oath: If hee bee periur'd (see you now) his reputation
is as arrant a villaine and a Iacke sawce, as euer his blacke shoo
trodd vpon Gods ground, and his earth, in my conscience law   King.
Then keepe thy vow sirrah, when thou meet'st the fellow

Wil. So, I wil my Liege, as I liue

King. Who seru'st thou vnder?

Will. Vnder Captaine Gower, my Liege

Flu. Gower is a good Captaine, and is good knowledge and literatured
in the Warres

King. Call him hither to me, Souldier

Will. I will my Liege.

Enter.

King. Here Fluellen, weare thou this fauour for me, and sticke it in
thy Cappe: when Alanson and my selfe were downe together, I pluckt this
Gloue from his Helme: If any man challenge this, hee is a friend to
Alanson, and an enemy to our Person; if thou encounter any such,
apprehend him, and thou do'st me loue

Flu. Your Grace doo's me as great Honors as can be desir'd in the
hearts of his Subiects: I would faine see the man, that ha's but two
legges, that shall find himselfe agreefd at this Gloue; that is all:
but I would faine see it once, and please God of his grace that I might
see

King. Know'st thou Gower?

Flu. He is my deare friend, and please you

King. Pray thee goe seeke him, and bring him to my Tent

Flu. I will fetch him.

Enter.

King. My Lord of Warwick, and my Brother Gloster, Follow Fluellen
closely at the heeles.

The Gloue which I haue giuen him for a fauour, May haply purchase him a
box a'th' eare.

It is the Souldiers: I by bargaine should Weare it my selfe. Follow
good Cousin Warwick: If that the Souldier strike him, as I iudge By his
blunt bearing, he will keepe his word; Some sodaine mischiefe may arise
of it:

For I doe know Fluellen valiant,

And toucht with Choler, hot as Gunpowder, And quickly will returne an
iniurie.

Follow, and see there be no harme betweene them. Goe you with me,
Vnckle of Exeter.

Exeunt.

Enter Gower and Williams.

Will. I warrant it is to Knight you, Captaine. Enter Fluellen.

Flu. Gods will, and his pleasure, Captaine, I beseech you now, come
apace to the King: there is more good toward you peraduenture, then is
in your knowledge to dreame of

Will. Sir, know you this Gloue?

Flu. Know the Gloue? I know the Gloue is a Gloue

Will. I know this, and thus I challenge it.

Strikes him.

Flu. 'Sblud, an arrant Traytor as anyes in the Vniuersall World, or
in France, or in England

Gower. How now Sir? you Villaine

Will. Doe you thinke Ile be forsworne?   Flu. Stand away Captaine
Gower, I will giue Treason his payment into plowes, I warrant you

Will. I am no Traytor

Flu. That's a Lye in thy Throat. I charge you in his Maiesties Name
apprehend him, he's a friend of the Duke Alansons.

Enter Warwick and Gloucester.

Warw. How now, how now, what's the matter?   Flu. My Lord of Warwick,
heere is, praysed be God for it, a most contagious Treason come to
light, looke you, as you shall desire in a Summers day. Heere is his
Maiestie.

Enter King and Exeter.

King. How now, what's the matter?

Flu. My Liege, heere is a Villaine, and a Traytor, that looke your
Grace, ha's strooke the Gloue which your Maiestie is take out of the
Helmet of Alanson

Will. My Liege, this was my Gloue, here is the fellow of it: and he
that I gaue it to in change, promis'd to weare it in his Cappe: I
promis'd to strike him, if he did: I met this man with my Gloue in his
Cappe, and I haue been as good as my word

Flu. Your Maiestie heare now, sauing your Maiesties Manhood, what an
arrant rascally, beggerly, lowsie Knaue it is: I hope your Maiestie is
peare me testimonie and witnesse, and will auouchment, that this is the
Gloue of Alanson, that your Maiestie is giue me, in your Conscience
now

King. Giue me thy Gloue Souldier;

Looke, heere is the fellow of it:

'Twas I indeed thou promised'st to strike, And thou hast giuen me most
bitter termes

Flu. And please your Maiestie, let his Neck answere for it, if there
is any Marshall Law in the World

King. How canst thou make me satisfaction?   Will. All offences, my
Lord, come from the heart: neuer came any from mine, that might offend
your Maiestie

King. It was our selfe thou didst abuse

Will. Your Maiestie came not like your selfe: you appear'd to me but
as a common man; witnesse the Night, your Garments, your Lowlinesse:
and what your Highnesse suffer'd vnder that shape, I beseech you take
it for your owne fault, and not mine: for had you beene as I tooke you
for, I made no offence; therefore I beseech your Highnesse pardon me

King. Here Vnckle Exeter, fill this Gloue with Crownes, And giue it
to this fellow. Keepe it fellow, And weare it for an Honor in thy
Cappe,

Till I doe challenge it. Giue him the Crownes: And Captaine, you must
needs be friends with him

Flu. By this Day and this Light, the fellow ha's mettell enough in
his belly: Hold, there is twelue-pence for you, and I pray you to serue
God, and keepe you out of prawles and prabbles, and quarrels and
dissentions, and I warrant you it is the better for you

Will. I will none of your Money

Flu. It is with a good will: I can tell you it will serue you to
mend your shooes: come, wherefore should you be so pashfull, your
shooes is not so good: 'tis a good silling I warrant you, or I will
change it. Enter Herauld.

King. Now Herauld, are the dead numbred?   Herald. Heere is the
number of the slaught'red French

King. What Prisoners of good sort are taken, Vnckle?

Exe. Charles Duke of Orleance, Nephew to the King, Iohn Duke of
Burbon, and Lord Bouchiquald: Of other Lords and Barons, Knights and
Squires, Full fifteene hundred, besides common men

King. This Note doth tell me of ten thousand French That in the
field lye slaine: of Princes in this number, And Nobles bearing
Banners, there lye dead One hundred twentie six: added to these,

Of Knights, Esquires, and gallant Gentlemen, Eight thousand and foure
hundred: of the which, Fiue hundred were but yesterday dubb'd Knights.
So that in these ten thousand they haue lost, There are but sixteene
hundred Mercenaries: The rest are Princes, Barons, Lords, Knights,
Squires, And Gentlemen of bloud and qualitie.

The Names of those their Nobles that lye dead: Charles Delabreth, High
Constable of France, Iaques of Chatilion, Admirall of France,

The Master of the Crosse-bowes, Lord Rambures, Great Master of France,
the braue Sir Guichard Dolphin, Iohn Duke of Alanson, Anthonie Duke of
Brabant, The Brother to the Duke of Burgundie,

And Edward Duke of Barr: of lustie Earles, Grandpree and Roussie,
Fauconbridge and Foyes, Beaumont and Marle, Vandemont and Lestrale.
Here was a Royall fellowship of death.

Where is the number of our English dead?

Edward the Duke of Yorke, the Earle of Suffolke, Sir Richard Ketly,
Dauy Gam Esquire;

None else of name: and of all other men,

But fiue and twentie.

O God, thy Arme was heere:

And not to vs, but to thy Arme alone,

Ascribe we all: when, without stratagem,

But in plaine shock, and euen play of Battaile, Was euer knowne so
great and little losse? On one part and on th' other, take it God, For
it is none but thine

Exet. 'Tis wonderfull

King. Come, goe we in procession to the Village: And be it death
proclaymed through our Hoast, To boast of this, or take that prayse
from God, Which is his onely

Flu. Is it not lawfull and please your Maiestie, to tell how many is
kill'd?

King. Yes Captaine: but with this acknowledgement, That God fought
for vs

Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did vs great good

King. Doe we all holy Rights:

Let there be sung Non nobis, and Te Deum, The dead with charitie
enclos'd in Clay:

And then to Callice, and to England then, Where ne're from France
arriu'd more happy men.

Exeunt.



Actus Quintus.

Enter Chorus.

Vouchsafe to those that haue not read the Story, That I may prompt
them: and of such as haue, I humbly pray them to admit th' excuse

Of time, of numbers, and due course of things, Which cannot in their
huge and proper life, Be here presented. Now we beare the King

Toward Callice: Graunt him there; there seene, Heaue him away vpon your
winged thoughts, Athwart the Sea: Behold the English beach Pales in the
flood; with Men, Wiues, and Boyes, Whose shouts & claps out-voyce the
deep-mouth'd Sea, Which like a mightie Whiffler 'fore the King, Seemes
to prepare his way: So let him land, And solemnly see him set on to
London.

So swift a pace hath Thought, that euen now You may imagine him vpon
Black-Heath:

Where, that his Lords desire him, to haue borne His bruised Helmet, and
his bended Sword

Before him, through the Citie: he forbids it, Being free from
vainnesse, and selfe-glorious pride; Giuing full Trophee, Signall, and
Ostent, Quite from himselfe, to God. But now behold, In the quick Forge
and working-house of Thought, How London doth powre out her Citizens,

The Maior and all his Brethren in best sort, Like to the Senatours of
th' antique Rome, With the Plebeians swarming at their heeles, Goe
forth and fetch their Conqu'ring Csar in: As by a lower, but by louing
likelyhood,

Were now the Generall of our gracious Empresse, As in good time he may,
from Ireland comming, Bringing Rebellion broached on his Sword; How
many would the peacefull Citie quit,

To welcome him? much more, and much more cause, Did they this Harry.
Now in London place him. As yet the lamentation of the French

Inuites the King of Englands stay at home: The Emperour's comming in
behalfe of France, To order peace betweene them: and omit

All the occurrences, what euer chanc't,

Till Harryes backe returne againe to France: There must we bring him;
and my selfe haue play'd The interim, by remembring you 'tis past. Then
brooke abridgement, and your eyes aduance, After your thoughts,
straight backe againe to France. Enter.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Gower. Nay, that's right: but why weare you your Leeke to day?
S[aint]. Dauies day is past

Flu. There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things:
I will tell you asse my friend, Captaine Gower; the rascally, scauld,
beggerly, lowsie, pragging Knaue Pistoll, which you and your selfe, and
all the World, know to be no petter then a fellow, looke you now, of no
merits: hee is come to me, and prings me pread and sault yesterday,
looke you, and bid me eate my Leeke: it was in a place where I could
not breed no contention with him; but I will be so bold as to weare it
in my Cap till I see him once againe, and then I will tell him a little
piece of my desires.

Enter Pistoll.

Gower. Why heere hee comes, swelling like a Turkycock

Flu. 'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his Turkycocks. God
plesse you aunchient Pistoll: you scuruie lowsie Knaue, God plesse you

Pist. Ha, art thou bedlam? doest thou thirst, base Troian, to haue
me fold vp Parcas fatall Web? Hence; I am qualmish at the smell of
Leeke

Flu. I peseech you heartily, scuruie lowsie Knaue, at my desires,
and my requests, and my petitions, to eate, looke you, this Leeke;
because, looke you, you doe not loue it, nor your affections, and your
appetites and your disgestions doo's not agree with it, I would desire
you to eate it

Pist. Not for Cadwallader and all his Goats

Flu. There is one Goat for you.

Strikes him.

Will you be so good, scauld Knaue, as eate it?   Pist. Base Troian,
thou shalt dye

Flu. You say very true, scauld Knaue, when Gods will is: I will
desire you to liue in the meane time, and eate your Victuals: come,
there is sawce for it. You call'd me yesterday Mountaine-Squier, but I
will make you to day a squire of low degree. I pray you fall too, if
you can mocke a Leeke, you can eate a Leeke

Gour. Enough Captaine, you haue astonisht him

Flu. I say, I will make him eate some part of my leeke, or I will
peate his pate foure dayes: bite I pray you, it is good for your greene
wound, and your ploodie Coxecombe

Pist. Must I bite

Flu. Yes certainly, and out of doubt and out of question too, and
ambiguities

Pist. By this Leeke, I will most horribly reuenge I eate and eate I
sweare

Flu. Eate I pray you, will you haue some more sauce to your Leeke:
there is not enough Leeke to sweare by

Pist. Quiet thy Cudgell, thou dost see I eate

Flu. Much good do you scald knaue, heartily. Nay, pray you throw
none away, the skinne is good for your broken Coxcombe; when you take
occasions to see Leekes heereafter, I pray you mocke at 'em, that is
all

Pist. Good

Flu. I, Leekes is good: hold you, there is a groat to heale your
pate

Pist. Me a groat?

Flu. Yes verily, and in truth you shall take it, or I haue another
Leeke in my pocket, which you shall eate

Pist. I take thy groat in earnest of reuenge

Flu. If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in Cudgels, you shall be
a Woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but cudgels: God bu'y you, and
keepe you, & heale your pate.

Exit

Pist. All hell shall stirre for this

Gow. Go, go, you are a counterfeit cowardly Knaue, will you mocke at
an ancient Tradition began vppon an honourable respect, and worne as a
memorable Trophee of predeceased valor, and dare not auouch in your
deeds any of your words. I haue seene you gleeking & galling at this
Gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, because he could not speake
English in the natiue garb, he could not therefore handle an English
Cudgell: you finde it otherwise, and henceforth let a Welsh correction,
teach you a good English condition, fare ye well.

Exit

Pist. Doeth fortune play the huswife with me now? Newes haue I that
my Doll is dead i'th Spittle of a malady of France, and there my
rendeuous is quite cut off: Old I do waxe, and from my wearie limbes
honour is Cudgeld. Well, Baud Ile turne, and something leane to
Cut-purse of quicke hand: To England will I steale, and there Ile
steale:

And patches will I get vnto these cudgeld scarres, And swore I got them
in the Gallia warres. Enter.

Enter at one doore, King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Warwicke, and other

Lords. At another, Queene Isabel, the King, the Duke of Bourgougne,
and

other French.

King. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met; Vnto our brother
France, and to our Sister Health and faire time of day: Ioy and good
wishes To our most faire and Princely Cosine Katherine: And as a branch
and member of this Royalty, By whom this great assembly is contriu'd,
We do salute you Duke of Burgogne,

And Princes French and Peeres health to you all

Fra. Right ioyous are we to behold your face, Most worthy brother
England, fairely met, So are you Princes (English) euery one

Quee. So happy be the Issue brother Ireland Of this good day, and of
this gracious meeting, As we are now glad to behold your eyes,

Your eyes which hitherto haue borne

In them against the French that met them in their bent, The fatall
Balls of murthering Basiliskes: The venome of such Lookes we fairely
hope Haue lost their qualitie, and that this day Shall change all
griefes and quarrels into loue

Eng. To cry Amen to that, thus we appeare

Quee. You English Princes all, I doe salute you

Burg. My dutie to you both, on equall loue. Great Kings of France
and England: that I haue labour'd With all my wits, my paines, and
strong endeuors, To bring your most Imperiall Maiesties

Vnto this Barre, and Royall enterview;

Your Mightinesse on both parts best can witnesse. Since then my Office
hath so farre preuayl'd, That Face to Face, and Royall Eye to Eye, You
haue congreeted: let it not disgrace me, If I demand before this Royall
view,

What Rub, or what Impediment there is,

Why that the naked, poore, and mangled Peace, Deare Nourse of Arts,
Plentyes, and ioyfull Births, Should not in this best Garden of the
World, Our fertile France, put vp her louely Visage? Alas, shee hath
from France too long been chas'd, And all her Husbandry doth lye on
heapes, Corrupting in it owne fertilitie.

Her Vine, the merry chearer of the heart, Vnpruned, dyes: her Hedges
euen pleach'd, Like Prisoners wildly ouer-growne with hayre, Put forth
disorder'd Twigs: her fallow Leas, The Darnell, Hemlock, and ranke
Femetary, Doth root vpon; while that the Culter rusts, That should
deracinate such Sauagery:

The euen Meade, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled Cowslip,
Burnet, and greene Clouer, Wanting the Sythe, withall vncorrected,
ranke; Conceiues by idlenesse, and nothing teemes, But hatefull Docks,
rough Thistles, Keksyes, Burres, Loosing both beautie and vtilitie;

And all our Vineyards, Fallowes, Meades, and Hedges, Defectiue in their
natures, grow to wildnesse. Euen so our Houses, and our selues, and
Children, Haue lost, or doe not learne, for want of time, The Sciences
that should become our Countrey; But grow like Sauages, as Souldiers
will, That nothing doe, but meditate on Blood,

To Swearing, and sterne Lookes, defus'd Attyre, And euery thing that
seemes vnnaturall.

Which to reduce into our former fauour,

You are assembled: and my speech entreats, That I may know the Let, why
gentle Peace Should not expell these inconueniences,

And blesse vs with her former qualities

Eng. If Duke of Burgonie, you would the Peace, Whose want giues
growth to th' imperfections Which you haue cited; you must buy that
Peace With full accord to all our iust demands, Whose Tenures and
particular effects

You haue enschedul'd briefely in your hands

Burg. The King hath heard them: to the which, as yet There is no
Answer made

Eng. Well then: the Peace which you before so vrg'd, Lyes in his
Answer

France. I haue but with a curselarie eye O're-glanc't the Articles:
Pleaseth your Grace To appoint some of your Councell presently To sit
with vs once more, with better heed To re-suruey them; we will
suddenly

Passe our accept and peremptorie Answer

England. Brother we shall. Goe Vnckle Exeter, And Brother Clarence,
and you Brother Gloucester, Warwick, and Huntington, goe with the King,
And take with you free power, to ratifie, Augment, or alter, as your
Wisdomes best

Shall see aduantageable for our Dignitie, Any thing in or out of our
Demands,

And wee'le consigne thereto. Will you, faire Sister, Goe with the
Princes, or stay here with vs?   Quee. Our gracious Brother, I will goe
with them: Happily a Womans Voyce may doe some good, When Articles too
nicely vrg'd, be stood on

England. Yet leaue our Cousin Katherine here with vs, She is our
capitall Demand, compris'd

Within the fore-ranke of our Articles

Quee. She hath good leaue.

Exeunt. omnes.

Manet King and Katherine

King. Faire Katherine, and most faire, Will you vouchsafe to teach a
Souldier tearmes, Such as will enter at a Ladyes eare,

And pleade his Loue-suit to her gentle heart

Kath. Your Maiestie shall mock at me, I cannot speake your England

King. O faire Katherine, if you will loue me soundly with your
French heart, I will be glad to heare you confesse it brokenly with
your English Tongue. Doe you like me, Kate?

Kath. Pardonne moy, I cannot tell wat is like me

King. An Angell is like you Kate, and you are like an Angell

Kath. Que dit il que Ie suis semblable a les Anges?   Lady. Ouy
verayment (sauf vostre Grace) ainsi dit il

King. I said so, deare Katherine, and I must not blush to affirme
it

Kath. O bon Dieu, les langues des hommes sont plein de tromperies

King. What sayes she, faire one? that the tongues of men are full of
deceits?

Lady. Ouy, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits: dat is de
Princesse

King. The Princesse is the better English-woman: yfaith Kate, my
wooing is fit for thy vnderstanding, I am glad thou canst speake no
better English, for if thou could'st, thou would'st finde me such a
plaine King, that thou wouldst thinke, I had sold my Farme to buy my
Crowne. I know no wayes to mince it in loue, but directly to say, I
loue you; then if you vrge me farther, then to say, Doe you in faith? I
weare out my suite: Giue me your answer, yfaith doe, and so clap hands,
and a bargaine: how say you, Lady?

Kath. Sauf vostre honeur, me vnderstand well

King. Marry, if you would put me to Verses, or to Dance for your
sake, Kate, why you vndid me: for the one I haue neither words nor
measure; and for the other, I haue no strength in measure, yet a
reasonable measure in strength. If I could winne a Lady at
Leape-frogge, or by vawting into my Saddle, with my Armour on my backe;
vnder the correction of bragging be it spoken. I should quickly leape
into a Wife: Or if I might buffet for my Loue, or bound my Horse for
her fauours, I could lay on like a Butcher, and sit like a Iack an
Apes, neuer off. But before God Kate, I cannot looke greenely, nor
gaspe out my eloquence, nor I haue no cunning in protestation; onely
downe-right Oathes, which I neuer vse till vrg'd, nor neuer breake for
vrging. If thou canst loue a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is
not worth Sunne-burning? that neuer lookes in his Glasse, for loue of
any thing he sees there? let thine Eye be thy Cooke. I speake to thee
plaine Souldier: If thou canst loue me for this, take me? if not? to
say to thee that I shall dye, is true; but for thy loue, by the L[ord].
No: yet I loue thee too. And while thou liu'st, deare Kate, take a
fellow of plaine and vncoyned Constancie, for he perforce must do thee
right, because he hath not the gift to wooe in other places: for these
fellowes of infinit tongue, that can ryme themselues into Ladyes
fauours, they doe alwayes reason themselues out againe. What? a speaker
is but a prater, a Ryme is but a Ballad; a good Legge will fall, a
strait Backe will stoope, a blacke Beard will turne white, a curl'd
Pate will grow bald, a faire Face will wither, a full Eye will wax
hollow: but a good Heart, Kate, is the Sunne and the Moone, or rather
the Sunne, and not the Moone; for it shines bright, and neuer changes,
but keepes his course truly. If thou would haue such a one, take me?
and take me; take a Souldier: take a Souldier; take a King. And what
say'st thou then to my Loue? speake my faire, and fairely, I pray thee

Kath. Is it possible dat I sould loue de ennemie of Fraunce?

King. No, it is not possible you should loue the Enemie of France,
Kate; but in louing me, you should loue the Friend of France: for I
loue France so well, that I will not part with a Village of it; I will
haue it all mine: and Kate, when France is mine, and I am yours; then
yours is France, and you are mine

Kath. I cannot tell wat is dat

King. No, Kate? I will tell thee in French, which I am sure will
hang vpon my tongue, like a new-married Wife about her Husbands Necke,
hardly to be shooke off; Ie quand sur le possession de Fraunce, & quand
vous aues le possession

de moy. (Let mee see, what then? Saint Dennis bee my speede) Donc
vostre est Fraunce, & vous estes mienne. It is as easie for me, Kate,
to conquer the Kingdome, as to speake so much more French: I shall
neuer moue thee in French, vnlesse it be to laugh at me

Kath. Sauf vostre honeur, le Francois ques vous parleis, il &
melieus que l' Anglois le quel Ie parle

King. No faith is't not, Kate: but thy speaking of my Tongue, and I
thine, most truely falsely, must needes be graunted to be much at one.
But Kate, doo'st thou vnderstand thus much English? Canst thou loue
mee?

Kath. I cannot tell

King. Can any of your Neighbours tell, Kate? Ile aske them. Come, I
know thou louest me: and at night, when you come into your Closet,
you'le question this Gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will
to her disprayse those parts in me, that you loue with your heart: but
good Kate, mocke me mercifully, the rather gentle Princesse, because I
loue thee cruelly. If euer thou beest mine, Kate, as I haue a sauing
Faith within me tells me thou shalt; I get thee with skambling, and
thou must therefore needes proue a good Souldier-breeder: Shall not
thou and I, betweene Saint Dennis and Saint George, compound a Boy,
halfe French halfe English, that shall goe to Constantinople, and take
the Turke by the Beard. Shall wee not? what say'st thou, my faire
Flower-de-Luce

Kate. I doe not know dat

King. No: 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promise: doe but now
promise Kate, you will endeauour for your French part of such a Boy;
and for my English moytie, take the Word of a King, and a Batcheler.
How answer you. La plus belle Katherine du monde mon trescher & deuin
deesse

Kath. Your Maiestee aue fause Frenche enough to deceiue de most sage
Damoiseil dat is en Fraunce

King. Now fye vpon my false French: by mine Honor in true English, I
loue thee Kate; by which Honor, I dare not sweare thou louest me, yet
my blood begins to flatter me, that thou doo'st; notwithstanding the
poore and vntempering effect of my Visage. Now beshrew my Fathers
Ambition, hee was thinking of Ciuill Warres when hee got me, therefore
was I created with a stubborne out-side, with an aspect of Iron, that
when I come to wooe Ladyes, I fright them: but in faith Kate, the elder
I wax, the better I shall appeare. My comfort is, that Old Age, that
ill layer vp of Beautie, can doe no more spoyle vpon my Face. Thou hast
me, if thou hast me, at the worst; and thou shalt weare me, if thou
weare me, better and better: and therefore tell me, most faire
Katherine, will you haue me? Put off your Maiden Blushes, auouch the
Thoughts of your Heart with the Lookes of an Empresse, take me by the
Hand, and say, Harry of England, I am thine: which Word thou shalt no
sooner blesse mine Eare withall, but I will tell thee alowd, England is
thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantaginet is
thine; who, though I speake it before his Face, if he be not Fellow
with the best King, thou shalt finde the best King of Good-fellowes.
Come your Answer in broken Musick; for thy Voyce is Musick, and thy
English broken: Therefore Queene of all, Katherine, breake thy minde to
me in broken English; wilt thou haue me?

Kath. Dat is as it shall please de Roy mon pere

King. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please him, Kate

Kath. Den it sall also content me

King. Vpon that I kisse your Hand, and I call you my Queene

Kath. Laisse mon Seigneur, laisse, laisse, may foy: Ie ne veus point
que vous abbaisse vostre grandeus, en baisant le main d' une nostre
Seigneur indignie seruiteur excuse moy. Ie vous supplie mon
tres-puissant Seigneur

King. Then I will kisse your Lippes, Kate

Kath. Les Dames & Damoisels pour estre baisee deuant leur nopcese il
net pas le costume de Fraunce

King. Madame, my Interpreter, what sayes shee?   Lady. Dat it is not
be de fashon pour le Ladies of Fraunce; I cannot tell wat is buisse en
Anglish

King. To kisse

Lady. Your Maiestee entendre bettre que moy

King. It is not a fashion for the Maids in Fraunce to kisse before
they are marryed, would she say?   Lady. Ouy verayment

King. O Kate, nice Customes cursie to great Kings. Deare Kate, you
and I cannot bee confin'd within the weake Lyst of a Countreyes
fashion: wee are the makers of Manners, Kate; and the libertie that
followes our Places, stoppes the mouth of all finde-faults, as I will
doe yours, for vpholding the nice fashion of your Countrey, in denying
me a Kisse: therefore patiently, and yeelding. You haue Witch-craft in
your Lippes, Kate: there is more eloquence in a Sugar touch of them,
then in the Tongues of the French Councell; and they should sooner
perswade Harry of England, then a generall Petition of Monarchs. Heere
comes your Father.

Enter the French Power, and the English Lords.

Burg. God saue your Maiestie, my Royall Cousin, teach you our
Princesse English?

King. I would haue her learne, my faire Cousin, how perfectly I loue
her, and that is good English

Burg. Is shee not apt?

King. Our Tongue is rough, Coze, and my Condition is not smooth: so
that hauing neyther the Voyce nor the Heart of Flatterie about me, I
cannot so coniure vp the Spirit of Loue in her, that hee will appeare
in his true likenesse

Burg. Pardon the franknesse of my mirth, if I answer you for that.
If you would coniure in her, you must make a Circle: if coniure vp Loue
in her in his true likenesse, hee must appeare naked, and blinde. Can
you blame her then, being a Maid, yet ros'd ouer with the Virgin
Crimson of Modestie, if shee deny the apparance of a naked blinde Boy
in her naked seeing selfe? It were (my Lord) a hard Condition for a
Maid to consigne to

King. Yet they doe winke and yeeld, as Loue is blind and enforces

Burg. They are then excus'd, my Lord, when they see not what they
doe

King. Then good my Lord, teach your Cousin to consent winking

Burg. I will winke on her to consent, my Lord, if you will teach her
to know my meaning: for Maides well Summer'd, and warme kept, are like
Flyes at Bartholomew-tyde, blinde, though they haue their eyes, and
then they will endure handling, which before would not abide looking
on

King. This Morall tyes me ouer to Time, and a hot Summer; and so I
shall catch the Flye, your Cousin, in the latter end, and she must be
blinde to

Burg. As Loue is my Lord, before it loues

King. It is so: and you may, some of you, thanke Loue for my
blindnesse, who cannot see many a faire French Citie for one faire
French Maid that stands in my way

French King. Yes my Lord, you see them perspectiuely: the Cities
turn'd into a Maid; for they are all gyrdled with Maiden Walls, that
Warre hath entred

England. Shall Kate be my Wife?

France. So please you

England. I am content, so the Maiden Cities you talke of, may wait
on her: so the Maid that stood in the way for my Wish, shall shew me
the way to my Will

France. Wee haue consented to all tearmes of reason

England. Is't so, my Lords of England?   West. The King hath
graunted euery Article: His Daughter first; and in sequele, all,

According to their firme proposed natures

Exet. Onely he hath not yet subscribed this: Where your Maiestie
demands, That the King of France hauing any occasion to write for
matter of Graunt, shall name your Highnesse in this forme, and with
this addition, in French: Nostre trescher filz Henry Roy d' Angleterre
Heretere de Fraunce: and thus in Latine; Praeclarissimus Filius noster
Henricus Rex Angli & Heres Franciae

France. Nor this I haue not Brother so deny'd, But your request
shall make me let it passe

England. I pray you then, in loue and deare allyance, Let that one
Article ranke with the rest, And thereupon giue me your Daughter

France. Take her faire Sonne, and from her blood rayse vp Issue to
me, that the contending Kingdomes Of France and England, whose very
shoares looke pale, With enuy of each others happinesse,

May cease their hatred; and this deare Coniunction Plant Neighbour-hood
and Christian-like accord In their sweet Bosomes: that neuer Warre
aduance His bleeding Sword 'twixt England and faire France

Lords. Amen

King. Now welcome Kate: and beare me witnesse all, That here I kisse
her as my Soueraigne Queene.

Flourish.

Quee. God, the best maker of all Marriages, Combine your hearts in
one, your Realmes in one: As Man and Wife being two, are one in loue,
So be there 'twixt your Kingdomes such a Spousall, That neuer may ill
Office, or fell Iealousie, Which troubles oft the Bed of blessed
Marriage, Thrust in betweene the Paction of these Kingdomes, To make
diuorce of their incorporate League: That English may as French, French
Englishmen, Receiue each other. God speake this Amen

All. Amen

King. Prepare we for our Marriage: on which day, My Lord of Burgundy
wee'le take your Oath And all the Peeres, for suretie of our Leagues.
Then shall I sweare to Kate, and you to me, And may our Oathes well
kept and prosp'rous be.

Senet. Exeunt.

Enter Chorus.

Thus farre with rough, and all-vnable Pen, Our bending Author hath
pursu'd the Story, In little roome confining mightie men,

Mangling by starts the full course of their glory. Small time: but in
that small, most greatly liued This Starre of England. Fortune made his
Sword; By which, the Worlds best Garden he atchieued: And of it left
his Sonne Imperiall Lord.

Henry the Sixt, in Infant Bands crown'd King Of France and England, did
this King succeed: Whose State so many had the managing,

That they lost France, and made his England bleed: Which oft our Stage
hath showne; and for their sake, In your faire minds let this
acceptance take.

FINIS. The Life of Henry the Fift.



The first Part of Henry the Sixt

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Dead March.

Enter the Funerall of King Henry the Fift, attended on by the Duke of

Bedford, Regent of France; the Duke of Gloster, Protector; the Duke of

Exeter Warwicke, the Bishop of Winchester, and the Duke of Somerset.

Bedford. Hung be y heauens with black, yield day to night; Comets
importing change of Times and States, Brandish your crystall Tresses in
the Skie, And with them scourge the bad reuolting Stars, That haue
consented vnto Henries death:

King Henry the Fift, too famous to liue long, England ne're lost a King
of so much worth

Glost. England ne're had a King vntill his time: Vertue he had,
deseruing to command,

His brandisht Sword did blinde men with his beames, His Armes spred
wider then a Dragons Wings: His sparkling Eyes, repleat with wrathfull
fire, More dazled and droue back his Enemies,

Then mid-day Sunne, fierce bent against their faces. What should I say?
his Deeds exceed all speech: He ne're lift vp his Hand, but conquered

Exe. We mourne in black, why mourn we not in blood? Henry is dead,
and neuer shall reuiue:

Vpon a Woodden Coffin we attend;

And Deaths dishonourable Victorie,

We with our stately presence glorifie,

Like Captiues bound to a Triumphant Carre. What? shall we curse the
Planets of Mishap, That plotted thus our Glories ouerthrow?

Or shall we thinke the subtile-witted French, Coniurers and Sorcerers,
that afraid of him, By Magick Verses haue contriu'd his end

Winch. He was a King, blest of the King of Kings. Vnto the French,
the dreadfull Iudgement-Day So dreadfull will not be, as was his sight.
The Battailes of the Lord of Hosts he fought: The Churches Prayers made
him so prosperous

Glost. The Church? where is it?

Had not Church-men pray'd,

His thred of Life had not so soone decay'd. None doe you like, but an
effeminate Prince, Whom like a Schoole-boy you may ouer-awe

Winch. Gloster, what ere we like, thou art Protector, And lookest to
command the Prince and Realme. Thy Wife is prowd, she holdeth thee in
awe, More then God or Religious Church-men may

Glost. Name not Religion, for thou lou'st the Flesh, And ne're
throughout the yeere to Church thou go'st, Except it be to pray against
thy foes

Bed. Cease, cease these Iarres, & rest your minds in peace: Let's to
the Altar: Heralds wayt on vs;

In stead of Gold, wee'le offer vp our Armes, Since Armes auayle not,
now that Henry's dead, Posteritie await for wretched yeeres,

When at their Mothers moistned eyes, Babes shall suck, Our Ile be made
a Nourish of salt Teares, And none but Women left to wayle the dead.
Henry the Fift, thy Ghost I inuocate:

Prosper this Realme, keepe it from Ciuill Broyles, Combat with aduerse
Planets in the Heauens; A farre more glorious Starre thy Soule will
make, Then Iulius Csar, or bright-

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My honourable Lords, health to you all: Sad tidings bring I to
you out of France, Of losse, of slaughter, and discomfiture: Guyen,
Champaigne, Rheimes, Orleance,

Paris Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost

Bedf. What say'st thou man, before dead Henry's Coarse? Speake
softly, or the losse of those great Townes Will make him burst his
Lead, and rise from death

Glost. Is Paris lost? is Roan yeelded vp? If Henry were recall'd to
life againe,

These news would cause him once more yeeld the Ghost

Exe. How were they lost? what trecherie was vs'd?   Mess. No
trecherie, but want of Men and Money. Amongst the Souldiers this is
muttered,

That here you maintaine seuerall Factions: And whil'st a Field should
be dispatcht and fought, You are disputing of your Generals.

One would haue lingring Warres, with little cost; Another would flye
swift, but wanteth Wings: A third thinkes, without expence at all,

By guilefull faire words, Peace may be obtayn'd. Awake, awake, English
Nobilitie,

Let not slouth dimme your Honors, new begot; Cropt are the
Flower-de-Luces in your Armes Of Englands Coat, one halfe is cut away

Exe. Were our Teares wanting to this Funerall, These Tidings would
call forth her flowing Tides

Bedf. Me they concerne, Regent I am of France: Giue me my steeled
Coat, Ile fight for France. Away with these disgracefull wayling Robes;
Wounds will I lend the French, in stead of Eyes, To weepe their
intermissiue Miseries.

Enter to them another Messenger.

Mess. Lords view these Letters, full of bad mischance. France is
reuolted from the English quite, Except some petty Townes, of no
import.

The Dolphin Charles is crowned King in Rheimes: The Bastard of Orleance
with him is ioyn'd: Reynold, Duke of Aniou, doth take his part, The
Duke of Alanson flyeth to his side.

Enter.

Exe. The Dolphin crown'd King? all flye to him? O whither shall we
flye from this reproach?   Glost. We will not flye, but to our enemies
throats. Bedford, if thou be slacke, Ile fight it out

Bed. Gloster, why doubtst thou of my forwardnesse? An Army haue I
muster'd in my thoughts,

Wherewith already France is ouer-run.

Enter another Messenger.

Mes. My gracious Lords, to adde to your laments, Wherewith you now
bedew King Henries hearse, I must informe you of a dismall fight,

Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot, and the French

Win. What? wherein Talbot ouercame, is't so?   3.Mes. O no: wherein
Lord Talbot was o'rethrown: The circumstance Ile tell you more at
large. The tenth of August last, this dreadfull Lord, Retyring from the
Siege of Orleance,

Hauing full scarce six thousand in his troupe, By three and twentie
thousand of the French Was round incompassed, and set vpon:

No leysure had he to enranke his men.

He wanted Pikes to set before his Archers: In stead whereof, sharpe
Stakes pluckt out of Hedges They pitched in the ground confusedly,

To keepe the Horsemen off, from breaking in. More then three houres the
fight continued: Where valiant Talbot, aboue humane thought, Enacted
wonders with his Sword and Lance. Hundreds he sent to Hell, and none
durst stand him: Here, there, and euery where enrag'd, he slew. The
French exclaym'd, the Deuill was in Armes, All the whole Army stood
agaz'd on him.

His Souldiers spying his vndaunted Spirit, A Talbot, a Talbot, cry'd
out amaine,

And rusht into the Bowels of the Battaile. Here had the Conquest fully
been seal'd vp, If Sir Iohn Falstaffe had not play'd the Coward. He
being in the Vauward, plac't behinde,

With purpose to relieue and follow them,

Cowardly fled, not hauing struck one stroake. Hence grew the generall
wrack and massacre: Enclosed were they with their Enemies.

A base Wallon, to win the Dolphins grace, Thrust Talbot with a Speare
into the Back, Whom all France, with their chiefe assembled strength,
Durst not presume to looke once in the face

Bedf. Is Talbot slaine then? I will slay my selfe, For liuing idly
here, in pompe and ease,

Whil'st such a worthy Leader, wanting ayd, Vnto his dastard foe-men is
betray'd

3.Mess. O no, he liues, but is tooke Prisoner, And Lord Scales with
him, and Lord Hungerford: Most of the rest slaughter'd, or tooke
likewise

Bedf. His Ransome there is none but I shall pay. Ile hale the
Dolphin headlong from his Throne, His Crowne shall be the Ransome of my
friend: Foure of their Lords Ile change for one of ours. Farwell my
Masters, to my Taske will I,

Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make, To keepe our great Saint
Georges Feast withall. Ten thousand Souldiers with me I will take,
Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake

3.Mess. So you had need, for Orleance is besieg'd, The English Army
is growne weake and faint: The Earle of Salisbury craueth supply,

And hardly keepes his men from mutinie,

Since they so few, watch such a multitude

Exe. Remember Lords your Oathes to Henry sworne: Eyther to quell the
Dolphin vtterly,

Or bring him in obedience to your yoake

Bedf. I doe remember it, and here take my leaue, To goe about my
preparation.

Exit Bedford.

Glost. Ile to the Tower with all the hast I can, To view th'
Artillerie and Munition,

And then I will proclayme young Henry King.

Exit Gloster.

Exe. To Eltam will I, where the young King is, Being ordayn'd his
speciall Gouernor,

And for his safetie there Ile best deuise. Enter.

Winch. Each hath his Place and Function to attend: I am left out; for
me nothing remaines:

But long I will not be Iack out of Office. The King from Eltam I intend
to send,

And sit at chiefest Sterne of publique Weale. Enter.

Sound a Flourish.

Enter Charles, Alanson, and Reigneir, marching with Drum and
Souldiers.

Charles. Mars his true mouing, euen as in the Heauens, So in the
Earth, to this day is not knowne. Late did he shine vpon the English
side:

Now we are Victors, vpon vs he smiles.

What Townes of any moment, but we haue?

At pleasure here we lye, neere Orleance:

Otherwhiles, the famisht English, like pale Ghosts, Faintly besiege vs
one houre in a moneth

Alan. They want their Porredge, & their fat Bul Beeues: Eyther they
must be dyeted like Mules,

And haue their Prouender ty'd to their mouthes, Or pitteous they will
looke, like drowned Mice

Reigneir. Let's rayse the Siege: why liue we idly here? Talbot is
taken, whom we wont to feare:

Remayneth none but mad-brayn'd Salisbury, And he may well in fretting
spend his gall, Nor men nor Money hath he to make Warre

Charles. Sound, sound Alarum, we will rush on them. Now for the
honour of the forlorne French: Him I forgiue my death, that killeth
me,

When he sees me goe back one foot, or flye.

Exeunt.

Here Alarum, they are beaten back by the English, with great losse.

Enter Charles, Alanson, and Reigneir.

Charles. Who euer saw the like? what men haue I? Dogges, Cowards,
Dastards: I would ne're haue fled, But that they left me 'midst my
Enemies

Reigneir. Salisbury is a desperate Homicide, He fighteth as one
weary of his life:

The other Lords, like Lyons wanting foode, Doe rush vpon vs as their
hungry prey

Alanson. Froysard, a Countreyman of ours, records, England all
Oliuers and Rowlands breed,

During the time Edward the third did raigne: More truly now may this be
verified;

For none but Samsons and Goliasses

It sendeth forth to skirmish: one to tenne? Leane raw-bon'd Rascals,
who would e'er suppose, They had such courage and audacitie?

Charles. Let's leaue this Towne,

For they are hayre-brayn'd Slaues,

And hunger will enforce them to be more eager: Of old I know them;
rather with their Teeth The Walls they'le teare downe, then forsake the
Siege

Reigneir. I thinke by some odde Gimmors or Deuice Their Armes are
set, like Clocks, still to strike on; Else ne're could they hold out so
as they doe: By my consent, wee'le euen let them alone

Alanson. Be it so.

Enter the Bastard of Orleance.

Bastard. Where's the Prince Dolphin? I haue newes for him

Dolph. Bastard of Orleance, thrice welcome to vs

Bast. Me thinks your looks are sad, your chear appal'd. Hath the
late ouerthrow wrought this offence? Be not dismay'd, for succour is at
hand:

A holy Maid hither with me I bring,

Which by a Vision sent to her from Heauen, Ordayned is to rayse this
tedious Siege,

And driue the English forth the bounds of France: The spirit of deepe
Prophecie she hath,

Exceeding the nine Sibyls of old Rome:

What's past, and what's to come, she can descry. Speake, shall I call
her in? beleeue my words, For they are certaine, and vnfallible

Dolph. Goe call her in: but first, to try her skill, Reignier stand
thou as Dolphin in my place; Question her prowdly, let thy Lookes be
sterne, By this meanes shall we sound what skill she hath. Enter Ioane
Puzel.

Reigneir. Faire Maid, is't thou wilt doe these wondrous feats?

Puzel. Reignier, is't thou that thinkest to beguile me? Where is the
Dolphin? Come, come from behinde, I know thee well, though neuer seene
before. Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me; In priuate will I
talke with thee apart:

Stand back you Lords, and giue vs leaue a while

Reigneir. She takes vpon her brauely at first dash

Puzel. Dolphin, I am by birth a Shepheards Daughter, My wit
vntrayn'd in any kind of Art:

Heauen and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd To shine on my
contemptible estate.

Loe, whilest I wayted on my tender Lambes, And to Sunnes parching heat
display'd my cheekes, Gods Mother deigned to appeare to me,

And in a Vision full of Maiestie,

Will'd me to leaue my base Vocation,

And free my Countrey from Calamitie:

Her ayde she promis'd, and assur'd successe. In compleat Glory shee
reueal'd her selfe: And whereas I was black and swart before, With
those cleare Rayes, which shee infus'd on me, That beautie am I blest
with, which you may see. Aske me what question thou canst possible, And
I will answer vnpremeditated:

My Courage trie by Combat, if thou dar'st, And thou shalt finde that I
exceed my Sex. Resolue on this, thou shalt be fortunate, If thou
receiue me for thy Warlike Mate

Dolph. Thou hast astonisht me with thy high termes: Onely this
proofe Ile of thy Valour make, In single Combat thou shalt buckle with
me; And if thou vanquishest, thy words are true, Otherwise I renounce
all confidence

Puzel. I am prepar'd: here is my keene-edg'd Sword, Deckt with fine
Flower-de-Luces on each side, The which at Touraine, in S[aint].
Katherines Church-yard, Out of a great deale of old Iron, I chose
forth

Dolph. Then come a Gods name, I feare no woman

Puzel. And while I liue, Ile ne're flye from a man.

Here they fight, and Ioane de Puzel ouercomes.

Dolph. Stay, stay thy hands, thou art an Amazon, And fightest with
the Sword of Debora

Puzel. Christs Mother helpes me, else I were too weake

Dolph. Who e're helps thee, 'tis thou that must help me: Impatiently
I burne with thy desire,

My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu'd. Excellent Puzel, if thy
name be so,

Let me thy seruant, and not Soueraigne be, 'Tis the French Dolphin
sueth to thee thus

Puzel. I must not yeeld to any rights of Loue, For my Profession's
sacred from aboue:

When I haue chased all thy Foes from hence, Then will I thinke vpon a
recompence

Dolph. Meane time looke gracious on thy prostrate Thrall

Reigneir. My Lord me thinkes is very long in talke

Alans. Doubtlesse he shriues this woman to her smock, Else ne're
could he so long protract his speech

Reigneir. Shall wee disturbe him, since hee keepes no meane?

Alan. He may meane more then we poor men do know, These women are
shrewd tempters with their tongues

Reigneir. My Lord, where are you? what deuise you on? Shall we giue
o're Orleance, or no?

Puzel. Why no, I say: distrustfull Recreants, Fight till the last
gaspe: Ile be your guard

Dolph. What shee sayes, Ile confirme: wee'le fight it out

Puzel. Assign'd am I to be the English Scourge. This night the Siege
assuredly Ile rayse: Expect Saint Martins Summer, Halcyons dayes, Since
I haue entred into these Warres.

Glory is like a Circle in the Water,

Which neuer ceaseth to enlarge it selfe,

Till by broad spreading, it disperse to naught. With Henries death, the
English Circle ends, Dispersed are the glories it included:

Now am I like that prowd insulting Ship,

Which Csar and his fortune bare at once

Dolph. Was Mahomet inspired with a Doue? Thou with an Eagle art
inspired then.

Helen, the Mother of Great Constantine,

Nor yet S[aint]. Philips daughters were like thee. Bright Starre of
Venus, falne downe on the Earth, How may I reuerently worship thee
enough?   Alanson. Leaue off delayes, and let vs rayse the Siege

Reigneir. Woman, do what thou canst to saue our honors, Driue them
from Orleance, and be immortaliz'd

Dolph. Presently wee'le try: come, let's away about it, No Prophet
will I trust, if shee proue false.

Exeunt.

Enter Gloster, with his Seruing-men.

Glost. I am come to suruey the Tower this day; Since Henries death, I
feare there is Conueyance: Where be these Warders, that they wait not
here? Open the Gates, 'tis Gloster that calls

1.Warder. Who's there, that knocks so imperiously?   Glost.1.Man. It
is the Noble Duke of Gloster

2.Warder. Who ere he be, you may not be let in

1.Man. Villaines, answer you so the Lord Protector?   1.Warder. The
Lord protect him, so we answer him, We doe no otherwise then wee are
will'd

Glost. Who willed you? or whose will stands but mine? There's none
Protector of the Realme, but I: Breake vp the Gates, Ile be your
warrantize; Shall I be flowted thus by dunghill Groomes?

Glosters men rush at the Tower Gates, and Wooduile the Lieutenant
speakes

within.

Wooduile. What noyse is this? what Traytors haue wee here?

Glost. Lieutenant, is it you whose voyce I heare? Open the Gates,
here's Gloster that would enter

Wooduile. Haue patience Noble Duke, I may not open, The Cardinall of
Winchester forbids:

From him I haue expresse commandement,

That thou nor none of thine shall be let in

Glost. Faint-hearted Wooduile, prizest him 'fore me? Arrogant
Winchester, that haughtie Prelate, Whom Henry our late Soueraigne ne're
could brooke? Thou art no friend to God, or to the King: Open the
Gates, or Ile shut thee out shortly

Seruingmen. Open the Gates vnto the Lord Protector, Or wee'le burst
them open, if that you come not quickly. Enter to the Protector at the
Tower Gates, Winchester and his men in

Tawney Coates.

Winchest. How now ambitious Vmpheir, what meanes this?

Glost. Piel'd Priest, doo'st thou command me to be shut out?

Winch. I doe, thou most vsurping Proditor, And not Protector of the
King or Realme

Glost. Stand back thou manifest Conspirator, Thou that contriued'st
to murther our dead Lord, Thou that giu'st Whores Indulgences to sinne,
Ile canuas thee in thy broad Cardinalls Hat, If thou proceed in this
thy insolence

Winch. Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge a foot: This be
Damascus, be thou cursed Cain,

To slay thy Brother Abel, if thou wilt

Glost. I will not slay thee, but Ile driue thee back: Thy Scarlet
Robes, as a Childs bearing Cloth, Ile vse, to carry thee out of this
place

Winch. Doe what thou dar'st, I beard thee to thy face

Glost. What? am I dar'd, and bearded to my face? Draw men, for all
this priuiledged place, Blew Coats to Tawny Coats. Priest, beware your
Beard, I meane to tugge it, and to cuffe you soundly. Vnder my feet I
stampe thy Cardinalls Hat: In spight of Pope, or dignities of Church,
Here by the Cheekes Ile drag thee vp and downe

Winch. Gloster, thou wilt answere this before the Pope

Glost. Winchester Goose, I cry, a Rope, a Rope. Now beat them hence,
why doe you let them stay? Thee Ile chase hence, thou Wolfe in Sheepes
array. Out Tawney-Coates, out Scarlet Hypocrite.

Here Glosters men beat out the Cardinalls men, and enter in the
hurly-burly the Maior of London, and his Officers.

Maior. Fye Lords, that you being supreme Magistrates, Thus
contumeliously should breake the Peace

Glost. Peace Maior, thou know'st little of my wrongs: Here's
Beauford, that regards nor God nor King, Hath here distrayn'd the Tower
to his vse

Winch. Here's Gloster, a Foe to Citizens, One that still motions
Warre, and neuer Peace, O're-charging your free Purses with large
Fines; That seekes to ouerthrow Religion,

Because he is Protector of the Realme;

And would haue Armour here out of the Tower, To Crowne himselfe King,
and suppresse the Prince

Glost. I will not answer thee with words, but blowes.

Here they skirmish againe.

Maior. Naught rests for me, in this tumultuous strife, But to make
open Proclamation.

Come Officer, as lowd as e're thou canst, cry: All manner of men,
assembled here in Armes this day, against Gods Peace and the Kings, wee
charge and command you, in his Highnesse Name, to repayre to your
seuerall dwelling places, and not to weare, handle, or vse any Sword,
Weapon, or Dagger hence-forward, vpon paine of death

Glost. Cardinall, Ile be no breaker of the Law: But we shall meet,
and breake our minds at large

Winch. Gloster, wee'le meet to thy cost, be sure: Thy heart-blood I
will haue for this dayes worke

Maior. Ile call for Clubs, if you will not away: This Cardinall's
more haughtie then the Deuill

Glost. Maior farewell: thou doo'st but what thou may'st

Winch. Abhominable Gloster, guard thy Head, For I intend to haue it
ere long.

Exeunt.

Maior. See the Coast clear'd, and then we will depart. Good God,
these Nobles should such stomacks beare, I my selfe fight not once in
fortie yeere.

Exeunt.

Enter the Master Gunner of Orleance, and his Boy.

M.Gunner. Sirrha, thou know'st how Orleance is besieg'd, And how the
English haue the Suburbs wonne

Boy. Father I know, and oft haue shot at them, How e're vnfortunate,
I miss'd my ayme

M.Gunner. But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd by me: Chiefe Master
Gunner am I of this Towne,

Something I must doe to procure me grace: The Princes espyals haue
informed me,

How the English, in the Suburbs close entrencht, Went through a secret
Grate of Iron Barres, In yonder Tower, to ouer-peere the Citie, And
thence discouer, how with most aduantage They may vex vs with Shot or
with Assault. To intercept this inconuenience,

A Peece of Ordnance 'gainst it I haue plac'd, And euen these three
dayes haue I watcht, If I could see them. Now doe thou watch,

For I can stay no longer.

If thou spy'st any, runne and bring me word, And thou shalt finde me at
the Gouernors. Enter.

Boy. Father, I warrant you, take you no care, Ile neuer trouble you,
if I may spye them. Enter.

Enter Salisbury and Talbot on the Turrets, with others.

Salisb. Talbot, my life, my ioy, againe return'd? How wert thou
handled, being Prisoner?

Or by what meanes got's thou to be releas'd? Discourse I prethee on
this Turrets top

Talbot. The Earle of Bedford had a Prisoner, Call'd the braue Lord
Ponton de Santrayle, For him was I exchang'd, and ransom'd.

But with a baser man of Armes by farre,

Once in contempt they would haue barter'd me: Which I disdaining,
scorn'd, and craued death, Rather then I would be so pil'd esteem'd: In
fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd.

But O, the trecherous Falstaffe wounds my heart, Whom with my bare
fists I would execute,

If I now had him brought into my power

Salisb. Yet tell'st thou not, how thou wert entertain'd

Tal. With scoffes and scornes, and contumelious taunts, In open
Market-place produc't they me,

To be a publique spectacle to all:

Here, sayd they, is the Terror of the French, The Scar-Crow that
affrights our Children so. Then broke I from the Officers that led me,
And with my nayles digg'd stones out of the ground, To hurle at the
beholders of my shame.

My grisly countenance made others flye,

None durst come neere, for feare of suddaine death. In Iron Walls they
deem'd me not secure:

So great feare of my Name 'mongst them were spread, That they suppos'd
I could rend Barres of Steele, And spurne in pieces Posts of Adamant.

Wherefore a guard of chosen Shot I had,

That walkt about me euery Minute while:

And if I did but stirre out of my Bed,

Ready they were to shoot me to the heart. Enter the Boy with a
Linstock.

Salisb. I grieue to heare what torments you endur'd, But we will be
reueng'd sufficiently.

Now it is Supper time in Orleance:

Here, through this Grate, I count each one, And view the Frenchmen how
they fortifie: Let vs looke in, the sight will much delight thee: Sir
Thomas Gargraue, and Sir William Glansdale, Let me haue your expresse
opinions,

Where is best place to make our Batt'ry next?   Gargraue. I thinke at
the North Gate, for there stands Lords

Glansdale. And I heere, at the Bulwarke of the Bridge

Talb. For ought I see, this Citie must be famisht, Or with light
Skirmishes enfeebled.

Here they shot, and Salisbury falls downe.

Salisb. O Lord haue mercy on vs, wretched sinners

Gargraue. O Lord haue mercy on me, wofull man

Talb. What chance is this, that suddenly hath crost vs? Speake
Salisbury; at least, if thou canst, speake: How far'st thou, Mirror of
all Martiall men? One of thy Eyes, and thy Cheekes side struck off?
Accursed Tower, accursed fatall Hand,

That hath contriu'd this wofull Tragedie. In thirteene Battailes,
Salisbury o'recame: Henry the Fift he first trayn'd to the Warres.
Whil'st any Trumpe did sound, or Drum struck vp, His Sword did ne're
leaue striking in the field. Yet liu'st thou Salisbury? though thy
speech doth fayle, One Eye thou hast to looke to Heauen for grace. The
Sunne with one Eye vieweth all the World. Heauen be thou gracious to
none aliue,

If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands.

Beare hence his Body, I will helpe to bury it. Sir Thomas Gargraue,
hast thou any life?

Speake vnto Talbot, nay, looke vp to him. Salisbury cheare thy Spirit
with this comfort, Thou shalt not dye whiles-

He beckens with his hand, and smiles on me: As who should say, When I
am dead and gone, Remember to auenge me on the French.

Plantaginet I will, and like thee,

Play on the Lute, beholding the Townes burne: Wretched shall France be
onely in my Name.

Here an Alarum, and it Thunders and Lightens.

What stirre is this? what tumult's in the Heauens? Whence commeth this
Alarum, and the noyse? Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My Lord, my Lord, the French haue gather'd head. The Dolphin,
with one Ioane de Puzel ioyn'd, A holy Prophetesse, new risen vp,

Is come with a great Power, to rayse the Siege.

Here Salisbury lifteth himselfe vp, and groanes.

Talb. Heare, heare, how dying Salisbury doth groane, It irkes his
heart he cannot be reueng'd. Frenchmen, Ile be a Salisbury to you.

Puzel or Pussel, Dolphin or Dog-fish,

Your hearts Ile stampe out with my Horses heeles, And make a Quagmire
of your mingled braines. Conuey me Salisbury into his Tent,

And then wee'le try what these dastard Frenchmen dare.

Alarum. Exeunt.

Here an Alarum againe, and Talbot pursueth the Dolphin, and driueth
him:

Then enter Ioane de Puzel, driuing Englishmen before her. Then enter

Talbot.

Talb. Where is my strength, my valour, and my force? Our English
Troupes retyre, I cannot stay them, A Woman clad in Armour chaseth
them.

Enter Puzel.

Here, here shee comes. Ile haue a bowt with thee: Deuill, or Deuils
Dam, Ile coniure thee:

Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a Witch, And straightway giue thy
Soule to him thou seru'st

Puzel. Come, come, 'tis onely I that must disgrace thee.

Here they fight.

Talb. Heauens, can you suffer Hell so to preuayle? My brest Ile burst
with straining of my courage, And from my shoulders crack my Armes
asunder, But I will chastise this high-minded Strumpet.

They fight againe.

Puzel. Talbot farwell, thy houre is not yet come, I must goe Victuall
Orleance forthwith:

A short Alarum: then enter the Towne with Souldiers.

O're-take me if thou canst, I scorne thy strength. Goe, goe, cheare vp
thy hungry-starued men, Helpe Salisbury to make his Testament,

This Day is ours, as many more shall be.

Enter.

Talb. My thoughts are whirled like a Potters Wheele, I know not where
I am, nor what I doe:

A Witch by feare, not force, like Hannibal, Driues back our troupes,
and conquers as she lists: So Bees with smoake, and Doues with noysome
stench, Are from their Hyues and Houses driuen away. They call'd vs,
for our fiercenesse, English Dogges, Now like to Whelpes, we crying
runne away.

A short Alarum.

Hearke Countreymen, eyther renew the fight, Or teare the Lyons out of
Englands Coat;

Renounce your Soyle, giue Sheepe in Lyons stead: Sheepe run not halfe
so trecherous from the Wolfe, Or Horse or Oxen from the Leopard,

As you flye from your oft-subdued slaues.

Alarum. Here another Skirmish.

It will not be, retyre into your Trenches: You all consented vnto
Salisburies death, For none would strike a stroake in his reuenge.
Puzel is entred into Orleance,

In spight of vs, or ought that we could doe. O would I were to dye with
Salisbury,

The shame hereof, will make me hide my head.

Exit Talbot.

Alarum, Retreat, Flourish.

Enter on the Walls, Puzel, Dolphin, Reigneir, Alanson, and Souldiers.

Puzel. Aduance our wauing Colours on the Walls, Rescu'd is Orleance
from the English.

Thus Ioane de Puzel hath perform'd her word

Dolph. Diuinest Creature, Astrea's Daughter, How shall I honour thee
for this successe? Thy promises are like Adonis Garden,

That one day bloom'd, and fruitfull were the next. France, triumph in
thy glorious Prophetesse, Recouer'd is the Towne of Orleance,

More blessed hap did ne're befall our State

Reigneir. Why ring not out the Bells alowd, Throughout the Towne?

Dolphin command the Citizens make Bonfires, And feast and banquet in
the open streets, To celebrate the ioy that God hath giuen vs

Alans. All France will be repleat with mirth and ioy, When they
shall heare how we haue play'd the men

Dolph. 'Tis Ioane, not we, by whom the day is wonne: For which, I
will diuide my Crowne with her, And all the Priests and Fryers in my
Realme, Shall in procession sing her endlesse prayse. A statelyer
Pyramis to her Ile reare,

Then Rhodophe's or Memphis euer was.

In memorie of her, when she is dead,

Her Ashes, in an Vrne more precious

Then the rich-iewel'd Coffer of Darius,

Transported, shall be at high Festiuals

Before the Kings and Queenes of France.

No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry,

But Ioane de Puzel shall be France's Saint. Come in, and let vs Banquet
Royally,

After this Golden Day of Victorie.

Flourish. Exeunt.



Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter a Sergeant of a Band, with two Sentinels.

Ser. Sirs, take your places, and be vigilant: If any noyse or
Souldier you perceiue

Neere to the walles, by some apparant signe Let vs haue knowledge at
the Court of Guard

Sent. Sergeant you shall. Thus are poore Seruitors (When others
sleepe vpon their quiet beds) Constrain'd to watch in darknesse, raine,
and cold. Enter Talbot, Bedford, and Burgundy, with scaling Ladders:
Their Drummes

beating a Dead March.

Tal. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy, By whose approach, the
Regions of Artoys, Wallon, and Picardy, are friends to vs:

This happy night, the Frenchmen are secure, Hauing all day carows'd and
banquetted,

Embrace we then this opportunitie,

As fitting best to quittance their deceite, Contriu'd by Art, and
balefull Sorcerie

Bed. Coward of France, how much he wrongs his fame, Dispairing of
his owne armes fortitude,

To ioyne with Witches, and the helpe of Hell

Bur. Traitors haue neuer other company. But what's that Puzell whom
they tearme so pure?   Tal. A Maid, they say

Bed. A Maid? And be so martiall?

Bur. Pray God she proue not masculine ere long: If vnderneath the
Standard of the French

She carry Armour, as she hath begun

Tal. Well, let them practise and conuerse with spirits. God is our
Fortresse, in whose conquering name Let vs resolue to scale their
flinty bulwarkes

Bed. Ascend braue Talbot, we will follow thee

Tal. Not altogether: Better farre I guesse, That we do make our
entrance seuerall wayes: That if it chance the one of vs do faile, The
other yet may rise against their force

Bed. Agreed; Ile to yond corner

Bur. And I to this

Tal. And heere will Talbot mount, or make his graue. Now Salisbury,
for thee and for the right Of English Henry, shall this night appeare
How much in duty, I am bound to both

Sent. Arme, arme, the enemy doth make assault.

Cry, S[aint]. George, A Talbot.

The French leape ore the walles in their shirts. Enter seuerall wayes,

Bastard, Alanson, Reignier, halfe ready, and halfe vnready.

Alan. How now my Lords? what all vnreadie so?   Bast. Vnready? I and
glad we scap'd so well

Reig. 'Twas time (I trow) to wake and leaue our beds, Hearing
Alarums at our Chamber doores

Alan. Of all exploits since first I follow'd Armes, Nere heard I of
a warlike enterprize

More venturous, or desperate then this

Bast. I thinke this Talbot be a Fiend of Hell

Reig. If not of Hell, the Heauens sure fauour him

Alans. Here commeth Charles, I maruell how he sped? Enter Charles
and Ioane.

Bast. Tut, holy Ioane was his defensiue Guard

Charl. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitfull Dame? Didst thou at
first, to flatter vs withall, Make vs partakers of a little gayne,

That now our losse might be ten times so much?   Ioane. Wherefore is
Charles impatient with his friend? At all times will you haue my Power
alike? Sleeping or waking, must I still preuayle, Or will you blame and
lay the fault on me? Improuident Souldiors, had your Watch been good,
This sudden Mischiefe neuer could haue falne

Charl. Duke of Alanson, this was your default, That being Captaine
of the Watch to Night, Did looke no better to that weightie Charge

Alans. Had all your Quarters been as safely kept, As that whereof I
had the gouernment,

We had not beene thus shamefully surpriz'd

Bast. Mine was secure

Reig. And so was mine, my Lord

Charl. And for my selfe, most part of all this Night Within her
Quarter, and mine owne Precinct, I was imploy'd in passing to and fro,

About relieuing of the Centinels.

Then how, or which way, should they first breake in?   Ioane. Question
(my Lords) no further of the case, How or which way; 'tis sure they
found some place, But weakely guarded, where the breach was made: And
now there rests no other shift but this, To gather our Souldiors,
scatter'd and disperc't, And lay new Platformes to endammage them.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter a Souldier, crying, a Talbot, a Talbot: they flye,
leauing

their Clothes behind.

Sould. Ile be so bold to take what they haue left: The Cry of Talbot
serues me for a Sword,

For I haue loaden me with many Spoyles,

Vsing no other Weapon but his Name.

Enter.

Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundie.

Bedf. The Day begins to breake, and Night is fled, Whose pitchy
Mantle ouer-vayl'd the Earth. Here sound Retreat, and cease our hot
pursuit.

Retreat.

Talb. Bring forth the Body of old Salisbury, And here aduance it in
the Market-Place,

The middle Centure of this cursed Towne.

Now haue I pay'd my Vow vnto his Soule:

For euery drop of blood was drawne from him, There hath at least fiue
Frenchmen dyed to night. And that hereafter Ages may behold

What ruine happened in reuenge of him,

Within their chiefest Temple Ile erect

A Tombe, wherein his Corps shall be interr'd: Vpon the which, that
euery one may reade, Shall be engrau'd the sacke of Orleance,

The trecherous manner of his mournefull death, And what a terror he had
beene to France. But Lords, in all our bloudy Massacre,

I muse we met not with the Dolphins Grace, His new-come Champion,
vertuous Ioane of Acre, Nor any of his false Confederates

Bedf. 'Tis thought Lord Talbot, when the fight began, Rows'd on the
sudden from their drowsie Beds, They did amongst the troupes of armed
men, Leape o're the Walls for refuge in the field

Burg. My selfe, as farre as I could well discerne, For smoake, and
duskie vapours of the night, Am sure I scar'd the Dolphin and his
Trull, When Arme in Arme they both came swiftly running, Like to a
payre of louing Turtle-Doues,

That could not liue asunder day or night. After that things are set in
order here,

Wee'le follow them with all the power we haue. Enter a Messenger.

Mess. All hayle, my Lords: which of this Princely trayne Call ye the
Warlike Talbot, for his Acts

So much applauded through the Realme of France?   Talb. Here is the
Talbot, who would speak with him?   Mess. The vertuous Lady, Countesse
of Ouergne, With modestie admiring thy Renowne,

By me entreats (great Lord) thou would'st vouchsafe To visit her poore
Castle where she lyes, That she may boast she hath beheld the man,
Whose glory fills the World with lowd report

Burg. Is it euen so? Nay, then I see our Warres Will turne vnto a
peacefull Comick sport, When Ladyes craue to be encountred with.

You may not (my Lord) despise her gentle suit

Talb. Ne're trust me then: for when a World of men Could not
preuayle with all their Oratorie, Yet hath a Womans kindnesse
ouer-rul'd:

And therefore tell her, I returne great thankes, And in submission will
attend on her.

Will not your Honors beare me company?

Bedf. No, truly, 'tis more then manners will: And I haue heard it
sayd, Vnbidden Guests Are often welcommest when they are gone

Talb. Well then, alone (since there's no remedie) I meane to proue
this Ladyes courtesie.

Come hither Captaine, you perceiue my minde.

Whispers.

Capt. I doe my Lord, and meane accordingly.

Exeunt.

Enter Countesse.

Count. Porter, remember what I gaue in charge, And when you haue done
so, bring the Keyes to me

Port. Madame, I will.

Enter.

Count. The Plot is layd, if all things fall out right, I shall as
famous be by this exploit,

As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus death.

Great is the rumour of this dreadfull Knight, And his atchieuements of
no lesse account: Faine would mine eyes be witnesse with mine eares, To
giue their censure of these rare reports. Enter Messenger and Talbot.

Mess. Madame, according as your Ladyship desir'd, By Message crau'd,
so is Lord Talbot come

Count. And he is welcome: what? is this the man?   Mess. Madame, it
is

Count. Is this the Scourge of France?

Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad? That with his Name the
Mothers still their Babes? I see Report is fabulous and false.

I thought I should haue seene some Hercules, A second Hector, for his
grim aspect,

And large proportion of his strong knit Limbes. Alas, this is a Child,
a silly Dwarfe:

It cannot be, this weake and writhled shrimpe Should strike such terror
to his Enemies

Talb. Madame, I haue beene bold to trouble you: But since your
Ladyship is not at leysure, Ile sort some other time to visit you

Count. What meanes he now?

Goe aske him, whither he goes?

Mess. Stay my Lord Talbot, for my Lady craues, To know the cause of
your abrupt departure?   Talb. Marry, for that shee's in a wrong
beleefe, I goe to certifie her Talbot's here.

Enter Porter with Keyes.

Count. If thou be he, then art thou Prisoner

Talb. Prisoner? to whom?

Count. To me, blood-thirstie Lord:

And for that cause I trayn'd thee to my House. Long time thy shadow
hath been thrall to me, For in my Gallery thy Picture hangs:

But now the substance shall endure the like, And I will chayne these
Legges and Armes of thine, That hast by Tyrannie these many yeeres

Wasted our Countrey, slaine our Citizens, And sent our Sonnes and
Husbands captiuate

Talb. Ha, ha, ha

Count. Laughest thou Wretch?

Thy mirth shall turne to moane

Talb. I laugh to see your Ladyship so fond, To thinke, that you haue
ought but Talbots shadow, Whereon to practise your seueritie

Count. Why? art not thou the man?

Talb. I am indeede

Count. Then haue I substance too

Talb. No, no, I am but shadow of my selfe: You are deceiu'd, my
substance is not here; For what you see, is but the smallest part, And
least proportion of Humanitie:

I tell you Madame, were the whole Frame here, It is of such a spacious
loftie pitch,

Your Roofe were not sufficient to contayn't

Count. This is a Riddling Merchant for the nonce, He will be here,
and yet he is not here:

How can these contrarieties agree?

Talb. That will I shew you presently.

Winds his Horne, Drummes strike vp, a Peale of Ordenance: Enter
Souldiors.

How say you Madame? are you now perswaded, That Talbot is but shadow of
himselfe?

These are his substance, sinewes, armes, and strength, With which he
yoaketh your rebellious Neckes, Razeth your Cities, and subuerts your
Townes, And in a moment makes them desolate

Count. Victorious Talbot, pardon my abuse, I finde thou art no lesse
then Fame hath bruited, And more then may be gathered by thy shape. Let
my presumption not prouoke thy wrath, For I am sorry, that with
reuerence

I did not entertaine thee as thou art

Talb. Be not dismay'd, faire Lady, nor misconster The minde of
Talbot, as you did mistake

The outward composition of his body.

What you haue done, hath not offended me: Nor other satisfaction doe I
craue,

But onely with your patience, that we may Taste of your Wine, and see
what Cates you haue, For Souldiers stomacks alwayes serue them well

Count. With all my heart, and thinke me honored, To feast so great a
Warrior in my House.

Exeunt.

Enter Richard Plantagenet, Warwick, Somerset, Poole, and others.

Yorke. Great Lords and Gentlemen,

What meanes this silence?

Dare no man answer in a Case of Truth?

Suff. Within the Temple Hall we were too lowd, The Garden here is
more conuenient

York. Then say at once, if I maintain'd the Truth: Or else was
wrangling Somerset in th' error?   Suff. Faith I haue beene a Truant in
the Law, And neuer yet could frame my will to it,

And therefore frame the Law vnto my will

Som. Iudge you, my Lord of Warwicke, then betweene vs

War. Between two Hawks, which flyes the higher pitch, Between two
Dogs, which hath the deeper mouth, Between two Blades, which beares the
better temper, Between two Horses, which doth beare him best, Between
two Girles, which hath the merryest eye, I haue perhaps some shallow
spirit of Iudgement: But in these nice sharpe Quillets of the Law, Good
faith I am no wiser then a Daw

York. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance: The truth appeares
so naked on my side,

That any purblind eye may find it out

Som. And on my side it is so well apparrell'd, So cleare, so
shining, and so euident,

That it will glimmer through a blind-mans eye

York. Since you are tongue-ty'd, and so loth to speake, In dumbe
significants proclayme your thoughts: Let him that is a true-borne
Gentleman,

And stands vpon the honor of his birth,

If he suppose that I haue pleaded truth,

From off this Bryer pluck a white Rose with me

Som. Let him that is no Coward, nor no Flatterer, But dare maintaine
the partie of the truth, Pluck a red Rose from off this Thorne with me

War. I loue no Colours: and without all colour Of base insinuating
flatterie,

I pluck this white Rose with Plantagenet

Suff. I pluck this red Rose, with young Somerset, And say withall, I
thinke he held the right

Vernon. Stay Lords and Gentlemen, and pluck no more Till you
conclude, that he vpon whose side The fewest Roses are cropt from the
Tree, Shall yeeld the other in the right opinion

Som. Good Master Vernon, it is well obiected: If I haue fewest, I
subscribe in silence

York. And I

Vernon. Then for the truth, and plainnesse of the Case, I pluck this
pale and Maiden Blossome here, Giuing my Verdict on the white Rose
side

Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off, Least bleeding, you
doe paint the white Rose red, And fall on my side so against your will

Vernon. If I, my Lord, for my opinion bleed, Opinion shall be
Surgeon to my hurt,

And keepe me on the side where still I am

Som. Well, well, come on, who else?

Lawyer. Vnlesse my Studie and my Bookes be false, The argument you
held, was wrong in you;

In signe whereof, I pluck a white Rose too

Yorke. Now Somerset, where is your argument?   Som. Here in my
Scabbard, meditating, that Shall dye your white Rose in a bloody red

York. Meane time your cheeks do counterfeit our Roses: For pale they
looke with feare, as witnessing The truth on our side

Som. No Plantagenet:

Tis not for feare, but anger, that thy cheekes Blush for pure shame, to
counterfeit our Roses, And yet thy tongue will not confesse thy error

Yorke. Hath not thy Rose a Canker, Somerset?   Som. Hath not thy
Rose a Thorne, Plantagenet?   Yorke. I, sharpe and piercing to
maintaine his truth, Whiles thy consuming Canker eates his falsehood

Som. Well, Ile find friends to weare my bleeding Roses, That shall
maintaine what I haue said is true, Where false Plantagenet dare not be
seene

Yorke. Now by this Maiden Blossome in my hand, I scorne thee and thy
fashion, peeuish Boy

Suff. Turne not thy scornes this way, Plantagenet

Yorke. Prowd Poole, I will, and scorne both him and thee

Suff. Ile turne my part thereof into thy throat

Som. Away, away, good William de la Poole, We grace the Yeoman, by
conuersing with him

Warw. Now by Gods will thou wrong'st him, Somerset: His Grandfather
was Lyonel Duke of Clarence, Third Sonne to the third Edward King of
England: Spring Crestlesse Yeomen from so deepe a Root?   Yorke. He
beares him on the place's Priuiledge, Or durst not for his crauen heart
say thus

Som. By him that made me, Ile maintaine my words On any Plot of
Ground in Christendome.

Was not thy Father, Richard, Earle of Cambridge, For Treason executed
in our late Kings dayes? And by his Treason, stand'st not thou
attainted, Corrupted, and exempt from ancient Gentry? His Trespas yet
liues guiltie in thy blood, And till thou be restor'd, thou art a
Yeoman

Yorke. My Father was attached, not attainted, Condemn'd to dye for
Treason, but no Traytor; And that Ile proue on better men then
Somerset, Were growing time once ripened to my will. For your partaker
Poole, and you your selfe, Ile note you in my Booke of Memorie,

To scourge you for this apprehension:

Looke to it well, and say you are well warn'd

Som. Ah, thou shalt finde vs ready for thee still: And know vs by
these Colours for thy Foes, For these, my friends in spight of thee
shall weare

Yorke. And by my Soule, this pale and angry Rose, As Cognizance of
my blood-drinking hate,

Will I for euer, and my Faction weare,

Vntill it wither with me to my Graue,

Or flourish to the height of my Degree

Suff. Goe forward, and be choak'd with thy ambition: And so farwell,
vntill I meet thee next.

Enter.

Som. Haue with thee Poole: Farwell ambitious Richard. Enter.

Yorke. How I am brau'd, and must perforce endure it?

Warw. This blot that they obiect against your House, Shall be whipt
out in the next Parliament, Call'd for the Truce of Winchester and
Gloucester: And if thou be not then created Yorke,

I will not liue to be accounted Warwicke. Meane time, in signall of my
loue to thee, Against prowd Somerset, and William Poole, Will I vpon
thy partie weare this Rose.

And here I prophecie: this brawle to day, Growne to this faction in the
Temple Garden, Shall send betweene the Red-Rose and the White, A
thousand Soules to Death and deadly Night

Yorke. Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you, That you on my behalfe
would pluck a Flower

Ver. In your behalfe still will I weare the same

Lawyer. And so will I

Yorke. Thankes gentle.

Come, let vs foure to Dinner: I dare say, This Quarrell will drinke
Blood another day.

Exeunt.

Enter Mortimer, brought in a Chayre, and Iaylors.

Mort. Kind Keepers of my weake decaying Age, Let dying Mortimer here
rest himselfe.

Euen like a man new haled from the Wrack, So fare my Limbes with long
Imprisonment: And these gray Locks, the Pursuiuants of death,
Nestor-like aged, in an Age of Care,

Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.

These Eyes like Lampes, whose wasting Oyle is spent, Waxe dimme, as
drawing to their Exigent.

Weake Shoulders, ouer-borne with burthening Griefe, And pyth-lesse
Armes, like to a withered Vine, That droupes his sappe-lesse Branches
to the ground. Yet are these Feet, whose strength-lesse stay is numme,
(Vnable to support this Lumpe of Clay)

Swift-winged with desire to get a Graue,

As witting I no other comfort haue.

But tell me, Keeper, will my Nephew come?   Keeper. Richard
Plantagenet, my Lord, will come: We sent vnto the Temple, vnto his
Chamber, And answer was return'd, that he will come

Mort. Enough: my Soule shall then be satisfied. Poore Gentleman, his
wrong doth equall mine. Since Henry Monmouth first began to reigne,
Before whose Glory I was great in Armes,

This loathsome sequestration haue I had;

And euen since then, hath Richard beene obscur'd, Depriu'd of Honor and
Inheritance.

But now, the Arbitrator of Despaires,

Iust Death, kinde Vmpire of mens miseries, With sweet enlargement doth
dismisse me hence: I would his troubles likewise were expir'd, That so
he might recouer what was lost.

Enter Richard.

Keeper. My Lord, your louing Nephew now is come

Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?   Rich. I, Noble
Vnckle, thus ignobly vs'd, Your Nephew, late despised Richard, comes

Mort. Direct mine Armes, I may embrace his Neck, And in his Bosome
spend my latter gaspe.

Oh tell me when my Lippes doe touch his Cheekes, That I may kindly giue
one fainting Kisse. And now declare sweet Stem from Yorkes great Stock,
Why didst thou say of late thou wert despis'd?   Rich. First, leane
thine aged Back against mine Arme, And in that ease, Ile tell thee my
Disease. This day in argument vpon a Case,

Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me: Among which tearmes, he
vs'd his lauish tongue, And did vpbrayd me with my Fathers death; Which
obloquie set barres before my tongue, Else with the like I had requited
him.

Therefore good Vnckle, for my Fathers sake, In honor of a true
Plantagenet,

And for Alliance sake, declare the cause

My Father, Earle of Cambridge, lost his Head

Mort. That cause (faire Nephew) that imprison'd me, And hath
detayn'd me all my flowring Youth, Within a loathsome Dungeon, there to
pyne, Was cursed Instrument of his decease

Rich. Discouer more at large what cause that was, For I am ignorant,
and cannot guesse

Mort. I will, if that my fading breath permit, And Death approach
not, ere my Tale be done. Henry the Fourth, Grandfather to this King,
Depos'd his Nephew Richard, Edwards Sonne, The first begotten, and the
lawfull Heire Of Edward King, the Third of that Descent. During whose
Reigne, the Percies of the North, Finding his Vsurpation most vniust,

Endeuour'd my aduancement to the Throne.

The reason mou'd these Warlike Lords to this, Was, for that (young
Richard thus remou'd, Leauing no Heire begotten of his Body)

I was the next by Birth and Parentage:

For by my Mother, I deriued am

From Lionel Duke of Clarence, third Sonne To King Edward the Third;
whereas hee,

From Iohn of Gaunt doth bring his Pedigree, Being but fourth of that
Heroick Lyne.

But marke: as in this haughtie great attempt, They laboured, to plant
the rightfull Heire, I lost my Libertie, and they their Liues. Long
after this, when Henry the Fift

(Succeeding his Father Bullingbrooke) did reigne; Thy Father, Earle of
Cambridge, then deriu'd From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of Yorke,
Marrying my Sister, that thy Mother was;

Againe, in pitty of my hard distresse,

Leuied an Army, weening to redeeme,

And haue install'd me in the Diademe:

But as the rest, so fell that Noble Earle, And was beheaded. Thus the
Mortimers,

In whom the Title rested, were supprest

Rich. Of which, my Lord, your Honor is the last

Mort. True; and thou seest, that I no Issue haue, And that my
fainting words doe warrant death: Thou art my Heire; the rest, I wish
thee gather: But yet be wary in thy studious care

Rich. Thy graue admonishments preuayle with me: But yet me thinkes,
my Fathers execution

Was nothing lesse then bloody Tyranny

Mort. With silence, Nephew, be thou pollitick, Strong fixed is the
House of Lancaster,

And like a Mountaine, not to be remou'd.

But now thy Vnckle is remouing hence,

As Princes doe their Courts, when they are cloy'd With long continuance
in a setled place

Rich. O Vnckle, would some part of my young yeeres Might but redeeme
the passage of your Age

Mort. Thou do'st then wrong me, as y slaughterer doth, Which giueth
many Wounds, when one will kill. Mourne not, except thou sorrow for my
good, Onely giue order for my Funerall.

And so farewell, and faire be all thy hopes, And prosperous be thy Life
in Peace and Warre.

Dyes.

Rich. And Peace, no Warre, befall thy parting Soule. In Prison hast
thou spent a Pilgrimage,

And like a Hermite ouer-past thy dayes.

Well, I will locke his Councell in my Brest, And what I doe imagine,
let that rest.

Keepers conuey him hence, and I my selfe

Will see his Buryall better then his Life. Enter.

Here dyes the duskie Torch of Mortimer,

Choakt with Ambition of the meaner sort.

And for those Wrongs, those bitter Iniuries, Which Somerset hath
offer'd to my House,

I doubt not, but with Honor to redresse.

And therefore haste I to the Parliament,

Eyther to be restored to my Blood,

Or make my will th' aduantage of my good. Enter.



Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Flourish. Enter King, Exeter, Gloster, Winchester, Warwick. Somerset,

Suffolk, Richard Plantagenet. Gloster offers to put vp a Bill:
Winchester

snatches it, teares it.

Winch. Com'st thou with deepe premeditated Lines? With written
Pamphlets, studiously deuis'd? Humfrey of Gloster, if thou canst
accuse, Or ought intend'st to lay vnto my charge, Doe it without
inuention, suddenly,

As I with sudden, and extemporall speech, Purpose to answer what thou
canst obiect

Glo. Presumptuous Priest, this place co[m]mands my patie[n]ce, Or
thou should'st finde thou hast dis-honor'd me. Thinke not, although in
Writing I preferr'd The manner of thy vile outragious Crymes, That
therefore I haue forg'd, or am not able Verbatim to rehearse the
Methode of my Penne. No Prelate, such is thy audacious wickednesse, Thy
lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious prancks, As very Infants prattle of
thy pride.

Thou art a most pernitious Vsurer,

Froward by nature, Enemie to Peace,

Lasciuious, wanton, more then well beseemes A man of thy Profession,
and Degree.

And for thy Trecherie, what's more manifest? In that thou layd'st a
Trap to take my Life, As well at London Bridge, as at the Tower.
Beside, I feare me, if thy thoughts were sifted, The King, thy
Soueraigne, is not quite exempt From enuious mallice of thy swelling
heart

Winch. Gloster, I doe defie thee. Lords vouchsafe To giue me hearing
what I shall reply.

If I were couetous, ambitious, or peruerse, As he will haue me: how am
I so poore?

Or how haps it, I seeke not to aduance

Or rayse my selfe? but keepe my wonted Calling. And for Dissention, who
preferreth Peace

More then I doe? except I be prouok'd.

No, my good Lords, it is not that offends, It is not that, that hath
incens'd the Duke: It is because no one should sway but hee, No one,
but hee, should be about the King; And that engenders Thunder in his
breast, And makes him rore these Accusations forth. But he shall know I
am as good

Glost. As good?

Thou Bastard of my Grandfather

Winch. I, Lordly Sir: for what are you, I pray, But one imperious in
anothers Throne?

Glost. Am I not Protector, sawcie Priest?   Winch. And am not I a
Prelate of the Church?   Glost. Yes, as an Out-law in a Castle keepes,
And vseth it, to patronage his Theft

Winch. Vnreuerent Glocester

Glost. Thou art reuerent,

Touching thy Spirituall Function, not thy Life

Winch. Rome shall remedie this

Warw. Roame thither then.

My Lord, it were your dutie to forbeare

Som. I, see the Bishop be not ouer-borne: Me thinkes my Lord should
be Religious,

And know the Office that belongs to such

Warw. Me thinkes his Lordship should be humbler, It fitteth not a
Prelate so to plead

Som. Yes, when his holy State is toucht so neere

Warw. State holy, or vnhallow'd, what of that? Is not his Grace
Protector to the King?

Rich. Plantagenet I see must hold his tongue, Least it be said,
Speake Sirrha when you should: Must your bold Verdict enter talke with
Lords? Else would I haue a fling at Winchester

King. Vnckles of Gloster, and of Winchester, The speciall Watch-men
of our English Weale, I would preuayle, if Prayers might preuayle, To
ioyne your hearts in loue and amitie.

Oh, what a Scandall is it to our Crowne,

That two such Noble Peeres as ye should iarre? Beleeue me, Lords, my
tender yeeres can tell, Ciuill dissention is a viperous Worme,

That gnawes the Bowels of the Common-wealth.

A noyse within, Downe with the Tawny-Coats.

King. What tumult's this?

Warw. An Vprore, I dare warrant,

Begun through malice of the Bishops men.

A noyse againe, Stones, Stones.

Enter Maior.

Maior. Oh my good Lords, and vertuous Henry, Pitty the Citie of
London, pitty vs:

The Bishop, and the Duke of Glosters men, Forbidden late to carry any
Weapon,

Haue fill'd their Pockets full of peeble stones; And banding themselues
in contrary parts, Doe pelt so fast at one anothers Pate,

That many haue their giddy braynes knockt out: Our Windowes are broke
downe in euery Street, And we, for feare, compell'd to shut our Shops.
Enter in skirmish with bloody Pates.

King. We charge you, on allegeance to our selfe, To hold your
slaughtring hands, and keepe the Peace: Pray' Vnckle Gloster mittigate
this strife

1.Seruing. Nay, if we be forbidden Stones, wee'le fall to it with
our Teeth

2.Seruing. Doe what ye dare, we are as resolute.

Skirmish againe.

Glost. You of my household, leaue this peeuish broyle, And set this
vnaccustom'd fight aside

3.Seru. My Lord, we know your Grace to be a man Iust, and vpright;
and for your Royall Birth, Inferior to none, but to his Maiestie:

And ere that we will suffer such a Prince, So kinde a Father of the
Common-weale,

To be disgraced by an Inke-horne Mate,

Wee and our Wiues and Children all will fight, And haue our bodyes
slaughtred by thy foes

1.Seru. I, and the very parings of our Nayles Shall pitch a Field
when we are dead.

Begin againe.

Glost. Stay, stay, I say:

And if you loue me, as you say you doe,

Let me perswade you to forbeare a while

King. Oh, how this discord doth afflict my Soule. Can you, my Lord
of Winchester, behold

My sighes and teares, and will not once relent? Who should be
pittifull, if you be not?

Or who should study to preferre a Peace,

If holy Church-men take delight in broyles?   Warw. Yeeld my Lord
Protector, yeeld Winchester, Except you meane with obstinate repulse

To slay your Soueraigne, and destroy the Realme. You see what
Mischiefe, and what Murther too, Hath beene enacted through your
enmitie:

Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood

Winch. He shall submit, or I will neuer yeeld

Glost. Compassion on the King commands me stoupe, Or I would see his
heart out, ere the Priest Should euer get that priuiledge of me

Warw. Behold my Lord of Winchester, the Duke Hath banisht moodie
discontented fury,

As by his smoothed Browes it doth appeare: Why looke you still so
sterne, and tragicall?   Glost. Here Winchester, I offer thee my Hand

King. Fie Vnckle Beauford, I haue heard you preach, That Mallice was
a great and grieuous sinne: And will not you maintaine the thing you
teach? But proue a chiefe offendor in the same

Warw. Sweet King: the Bishop hath a kindly gyrd: For shame my Lord
of Winchester relent;

What, shall a Child instruct you what to doe?   Winch. Well, Duke of
Gloster, I will yeeld to thee Loue for thy Loue, and Hand for Hand I
giue

Glost. I, but I feare me with a hollow Heart. See here my Friends
and louing Countreymen, This token serueth for a Flagge of Truce,
Betwixt our selues, and all our followers: So helpe me God, as I
dissemble not

Winch. So helpe me God, as I intend it not

King. Oh louing Vnckle, kinde Duke of Gloster, How ioyfull am I made
by this Contract.

Away my Masters, trouble vs no more,

But ioyne in friendship, as your Lords haue done

1.Seru. Content, Ile to the Surgeons

2.Seru. And so will I

3.Seru. And I will see what Physick the Tauerne affords.

Exeunt.

Warw. Accept this Scrowle, most gracious Soueraigne, Which in the
Right of Richard Plantagenet, We doe exhibite to your Maiestie

Glo. Well vrg'd, my Lord of Warwick: for sweet Prince, And if your
Grace marke euery circumstance, You haue great reason to doe Richard
right, Especially for those occasions

At Eltam Place I told your Maiestie

King. And those occasions, Vnckle, were of force: Therefore my
louing Lords, our pleasure is, That Richard be restored to his Blood

Warw. Let Richard be restored to his Blood, So shall his Fathers
wrongs be recompenc't

Winch. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester

King. If Richard will be true, not that all alone, But all the whole
Inheritance I giue,

That doth belong vnto the House of Yorke, From whence you spring, by
Lineall Descent

Rich. Thy humble seruant vowes obedience, And humble seruice, till
the point of death

King. Stoope then, and set your Knee against my Foot, And in
reguerdon of that dutie done,

I gyrt thee with the valiant Sword of Yorke: Rise Richard, like a true
Plantagenet,

And rise created Princely Duke of Yorke

Rich. And so thriue Richard, as thy foes may fall, And as my dutie
springs, so perish they,

That grudge one thought against your Maiesty

All. Welcome high Prince, the mighty Duke of Yorke

Som. Perish base Prince, ignoble Duke of Yorke

Glost. Now will it best auaile your Maiestie, To crosse the Seas,
and to be Crown'd in France: The presence of a King engenders loue

Amongst his Subiects, and his loyall Friends, As it dis-animates his
Enemies

King. When Gloster sayes the word, King Henry goes, For friendly
counsaile cuts off many Foes

Glost. Your Ships alreadie are in readinesse.

Senet. Flourish. Exeunt.

Manet Exeter.

Exet. I, we may march in England, or in France, Not seeing what is
likely to ensue:

This late dissention growne betwixt the Peeres, Burnes vnder fained
ashes of forg'd loue, And will at last breake out into a flame, As
festred members rot but by degree,

Till bones and flesh and sinewes fall away, So will this base and
enuious discord breed. And now I feare that fatall Prophecie,

Which in the time of Henry, nam'd the Fift, Was in the mouth of euery
sucking Babe,

That Henry borne at Monmouth should winne all, And Henry borne at
Windsor, loose all:

Which is so plaine, that Exeter doth wish, His dayes may finish, ere
that haplesse time. Enter.



Scoena Secunda.

Enter Pucell disguis'd, with foure Souldiors with Sacks vpon their
backs.



Pucell. These are the Citie Gates, the Gates of Roan, Through which
our Pollicy must make a breach. Take heed, be wary how you place your
words, Talke like the vulgar sort of Market men, That come to gather
Money for their Corne. If we haue entrance, as I hope we shall,

And that we finde the slouthfull Watch but weake, Ile by a signe giue
notice to our friends, That Charles the Dolphin may encounter them

Souldier. Our Sacks shall be a meane to sack the City, And we be
Lords and Rulers ouer Roan,

Therefore wee'le knock.

Knock.

Watch. Che la

Pucell. Peasauns la pouure gens de Fraunce, Poore Market folkes that
come to sell their Corne

Watch. Enter, goe in, the Market Bell is rung

Pucell. Now Roan, Ile shake thy Bulwarkes to the ground.

Exeunt.

Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson.

Charles. Saint Dennis blesse this happy Stratageme, And once againe
wee'le sleepe secure in Roan

Bastard. Here entred Pucell, and her Practisants: Now she is there,
how will she specifie?

Here is the best and safest passage in

Reig. By thrusting out a Torch from yonder Tower, Which once
discern'd, shewes that her meaning is, No way to that (for weaknesse)
which she entred. Enter Pucell on the top, thrusting out a Torch
burning.

Pucell. Behold, this is the happy Wedding Torch, That ioyneth Roan
vnto her Countreymen,

But burning fatall to the Talbonites

Bastard. See Noble Charles the Beacon of our friend, The burning
Torch in yonder Turret stands

Charles. Now shine it like a Commet of Reuenge, A Prophet to the
fall of all our Foes

Reig. Deferre no time, delayes haue dangerous ends, Enter and cry,
the Dolphin, presently,

And then doe execution on the Watch.

Alarum.

An Alarum. Talbot in an Excursion.

Talb. France, thou shalt rue this Treason with thy teares, If Talbot
but suruiue thy Trecherie.

Pucell that Witch, that damned Sorceresse, Hath wrought this Hellish
Mischiefe vnawares, That hardly we escap't the Pride of France. Enter.

An Alarum: Excursions. Bedford brought in sicke in a Chayre.

Enter Talbot and Burgonie without: within, Pucell, Charles, Bastard,
and

Reigneir on the Walls.

Pucell. God morrow Gallants, want ye Corn for Bread? I thinke the
Duke of Burgonie will fast,

Before hee'le buy againe at such a rate.

'Twas full of Darnell: doe you like the taste?   Burg. Scoffe on vile
Fiend, and shamelesse Curtizan, I trust ere long to choake thee with
thine owne, And make thee curse the Haruest of that Corne

Charles. Your Grace may starue (perhaps) before that time

Bedf. Oh let no words, but deedes, reuenge this Treason

Pucell. What will you doe, good gray-beard? Breake a Launce, and
runne a-Tilt at Death, Within a Chayre

Talb. Foule Fiend of France, and Hag of all despight, Incompass'd
with thy lustfull Paramours,

Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant Age, And twit with Cowardise a man
halfe dead? Damsell, Ile haue a bowt with you againe, Or else let
Talbot perish with this shame

Pucell. Are ye so hot, Sir: yet Pucell hold thy peace, If Talbot doe
but Thunder, Raine will follow.

They whisper together in counsell.

God speed the Parliament: who shall be the Speaker?   Talb. Dare yee
come forth, and meet vs in the field?   Pucell. Belike your Lordship
takes vs then for fooles, To try if that our owne be ours, or no

Talb. I speake not to that rayling Hecate, But vnto thee Alanson,
and the rest.

Will ye, like Souldiors, come and fight it out?   Alans. Seignior no

Talb. Seignior hang: base Muleters of France, Like Pesant foot-Boyes
doe they keepe the Walls, And dare not take vp Armes, like Gentlemen

Pucell. Away Captaines, let's get vs from the Walls, For Talbot
meanes no goodnesse by his Lookes. God b'uy my Lord, we came but to
tell you That wee are here.

Exeunt. from the Walls.

Talb. And there will we be too, ere it be long, Or else reproach be
Talbots greatest fame. Vow Burgonie, by honor of thy House,

Prickt on by publike Wrongs sustain'd in France, Either to get the
Towne againe, or dye.

And I, as sure as English Henry liues,

And as his Father here was Conqueror;

As sure as in this late betrayed Towne,

Great Cordelions Heart was buryed;

So sure I sweare, to get the Towne, or dye

Burg. My Vowes are equall partners with thy Vowes

Talb. But ere we goe, regard this dying Prince, The valiant Duke of
Bedford: Come my Lord, We will bestow you in some better place,

Fitter for sicknesse, and for crasie age

Bedf. Lord Talbot, doe not so dishonour me: Here will I sit, before
the Walls of Roan, And will be partner of your weale or woe

Burg. Couragious Bedford, let vs now perswade you

Bedf. Not to be gone from hence: for once I read, That stout
Pendragon, in his Litter sick, Came to the field, and vanquished his
foes. Me thinkes I should reuiue the Souldiors hearts, Because I euer
found them as my selfe

Talb. Vndaunted spirit in a dying breast, Then be it so: Heauens
keepe old Bedford safe. And now no more adoe, braue Burgonie,

But gather we our Forces out of hand,

And set vpon our boasting Enemie.

Enter.

An Alarum: Excursions. Enter Sir Iohn Falstaffe, and a Captaine.

Capt. Whither away Sir Iohn Falstaffe, in such haste?   Falst.
Whither away? to saue my selfe by flight, We are like to haue the
ouerthrow againe

Capt. What? will you flye, and leaue Lord Talbot?   Falst. I, all
the Talbots in the World, to saue my life. Enter.

Capt. Cowardly Knight, ill fortune follow thee. Enter.

Retreat. Excursions. Pucell, Alanson, and Charles flye.

Bedf. Now quiet Soule, depart when Heauen please, For I haue seene
our Enemies ouerthrow.

What is the trust or strength of foolish man? They that of late were
daring with their scoffes, Are glad and faine by flight to saue
themselues.

Bedford dyes, and is carryed in by two in his Chaire.

An Alarum. Enter Talbot, Burgonie, and the rest.

Talb. Lost, and recouered in a day againe, This is a double Honor,
Burgonie:

Yet Heauens haue glory for this Victorie

Burg. Warlike and Martiall Talbot, Burgonie Inshrines thee in his
heart, and there erects Thy noble Deeds, as Valors Monuments

Talb. Thanks gentle Duke: but where is Pucel now? I thinke her old
Familiar is asleepe.

Now where's the Bastards braues, and Charles his glikes? What all
amort? Roan hangs her head for griefe, That such a valiant Company are
fled.

Now will we take some order in the Towne, Placing therein some expert
Officers,

And then depart to Paris, to the King,

For there young Henry with his Nobles lye

Burg. What wills Lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgonie

Talb. But yet before we goe, let's not forget The Noble Duke of
Bedford, late deceas'd, But see his Exequies fulfill'd in Roan.

A brauer Souldier neuer couched Launce,

A gentler Heart did neuer sway in Court.

But Kings and mightiest Potentates must die, For that's the end of
humane miserie.

Exeunt.



Scaena Tertia.

Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson, Pucell.

Pucell. Dismay not (Princes) at this accident, Nor grieue that Roan
is so recouered:

Care is no cure, but rather corrosiue,

For things that are not to be remedy'd.

Let frantike Talbot triumph for a while,

And like a Peacock sweepe along his tayle, Wee'le pull his Plumes, and
take away his Trayne, If Dolphin and the rest will be but rul'd

Charles. We haue been guided by thee hitherto, And of thy Cunning
had no diffidence,

One sudden Foyle shall neuer breed distrust

Bastard. Search out thy wit for secret pollicies, And we will make
thee famous through the World

Alans. Wee'le set thy Statue in some holy place, And haue thee
reuerenc't like a blessed Saint. Employ thee then, sweet Virgin, for
our good

Pucell. Then thus it must be, this doth Ioane deuise: By faire
perswasions, mixt with sugred words, We will entice the Duke of
Burgonie

To leaue the Talbot, and to follow vs

Charles. I marry Sweeting, if we could doe that, France were no
place for Henryes Warriors, Nor should that Nation boast it so with vs,
But be extirped from our Prouinces

Alans. For euer should they be expuls'd from France, And not haue
Title of an Earledome here

Pucell. Your Honors shall perceiue how I will worke, To bring this
matter to the wished end.

Drumme sounds a farre off.

Hearke, by the sound of Drumme you may perceiue Their Powers are
marching vnto Paris-ward.

Here sound an English March.

There goes the Talbot with his Colours spred, And all the Troupes of
English after him.

French March.

Now in the Rereward comes the Duke and his: Fortune in fauor makes him
lagge behinde. Summon a Parley, we will talke with him.

Trumpets sound a Parley.

Charles. A Parley with the Duke of Burgonie

Burg. Who craues a Parley with the Burgonie?   Pucell. The Princely
Charles of France, thy Countreyman

Burg. What say'st thou Charles? for I am marching hence

Charles. Speake Pucell, and enchaunt him with thy words

Pucell. Braue Burgonie, vndoubted hope of France, Stay, let thy
humble Hand-maid speake to thee

Burg. Speake on, but be not ouer-tedious

Pucell. Looke on thy Country, look on fertile France, And see the
Cities and the Townes defac't, By wasting Ruine of the cruell Foe,

As lookes the Mother on her lowly Babe,

When Death doth close his tender-dying Eyes. See, see the pining
Maladie of France:

Behold the Wounds, the most vnnaturall Wounds, Which thou thy selfe
hast giuen her wofull Brest. Oh turne thy edged Sword another way,

Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that helpe: One drop of
Blood drawne from thy Countries Bosome, Should grieue thee more then
streames of forraine gore. Returne thee therefore with a floud of
Teares, And wash away thy Countries stayned Spots

Burg. Either she hath bewitcht me with her words, Or Nature makes me
suddenly relent

Pucell. Besides, all French and France exclaimes on thee, Doubting
thy Birth and lawfull Progenie.

Who ioyn'st thou with, but with a Lordly Nation, That will not trust
thee, but for profits sake? When Talbot hath set footing once in
France, And fashion'd thee that Instrument of Ill, Who then, but
English Henry, will be Lord, And thou be thrust out, like a Fugitiue?

Call we to minde, and marke but this for proofe: Was not the Duke of
Orleance thy Foe?

And was he not in England Prisoner?

But when they heard he was thine Enemie,

They set him free, without his Ransome pay'd, In spight of Burgonie and
all his friends. See then, thou fight'st against thy Countreymen, And
ioyn'st with them will be thy slaughter-men. Come, come, returne;
returne thou wandering Lord, Charles and the rest will take thee in
their armes

Burg. I am vanquished:

These haughtie wordes of hers

Haue batt'red me like roaring Cannon-shot, And made me almost yeeld
vpon my knees.

Forgiue me Countrey, and sweet Countreymen: And Lords accept this
heartie kind embrace. My Forces and my Power of Men are yours.

So farwell Talbot, Ile no longer trust thee

Pucell. Done like a Frenchman: turne and turne againe

Charles. Welcome braue Duke, thy friendship makes vs fresh

Bastard. And doth beget new Courage in our Breasts

Alans. Pucell hath brauely play'd her part in this, And doth deserue
a Coronet of Gold

Charles. Now let vs on, my Lords,

And ioyne our Powers,

And seeke how we may preiudice the Foe.

Exeunt.



Scoena Quarta.



Enter the King, Gloucester, Winchester, Yorke, Suffolke, Somerset,

Warwicke, Exeter: To them, with his Souldiors, Talbot.

Talb. My gracious Prince, and honorable Peeres, Hearing of your
arriuall in this Realme,

I haue a while giuen Truce vnto my Warres, To doe my dutie to my
Soueraigne.

In signe whereof, this Arme, that hath reclaym'd To your obedience,
fiftie Fortresses,

Twelue Cities, and seuen walled Townes of strength, Beside fiue hundred
Prisoners of esteeme; Lets fall his Sword before your Highnesse feet:
And with submissiue loyaltie of heart

Ascribes the Glory of his Conquest got,

First to my God, and next vnto your Grace

King. Is this the Lord Talbot, Vnckle Gloucester, That hath so long
beene resident in France?   Glost. Yes, if it please your Maiestie, my
Liege

King. Welcome braue Captaine, and victorious Lord. When I was young
(as yet I am not old)

I doe remember how my Father said,

A stouter Champion neuer handled Sword.

Long since we were resolued of your truth, Your faithfull seruice, and
your toyle in Warre: Yet neuer haue you tasted our Reward,

Or beene reguerdon'd with so much as Thanks, Because till now, we neuer
saw your face. Therefore stand vp, and for these good deserts, We here
create you Earle of Shrewsbury,

And in our Coronation take your place.

Senet. Flourish. Exeunt.



Manet Vernon and Basset.

Vern. Now Sir, to you that were so hot at Sea, Disgracing of these
Colours that I weare, In honor of my Noble Lord of Yorke

Dar'st thou maintaine the former words thou spak'st?   Bass. Yes Sir,
as well as you dare patronage The enuious barking of your sawcie
Tongue, Against my Lord the Duke of Somerset

Vern. Sirrha, thy Lord I honour as he is

Bass. Why, what is he? as good a man as Yorke

Vern. Hearke ye: not so: in witnesse take ye that.

Strikes him.

Bass. Villaine, thou knowest

The Law of Armes is such,

That who so drawes a Sword, 'tis present death, Or else this Blow
should broach thy dearest Bloud. But Ile vnto his Maiestie, and craue,

I may haue libertie to venge this Wrong,

When thou shalt see, Ile meet thee to thy cost

Vern. Well miscreant, Ile be there as soone as you, And after meete
you, sooner then you would.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter King, Glocester, Winchester, Yorke, Suffolke, Somerset,
Warwicke,

Talbot, and Gouernor Exeter.

Glo. Lord Bishop set the Crowne vpon his head

Win. God saue King Henry of that name the sixt

Glo. Now Gouernour of Paris take your oath, That you elect no other
King but him;

Esteeme none Friends, but such as are his Friends, And none your Foes,
but such as shall pretend Malicious practises against his State:

This shall ye do, so helpe you righteous God. Enter Falstaffe.

Fal. My gracious Soueraigne, as I rode from Calice, To haste vnto
your Coronation:

A Letter was deliuer'd to my hands,

Writ to your Grace, from th' Duke of Burgundy

Tal. Shame to the Duke of Burgundy, and thee: I vow'd (base Knight)
when I did meete the next, To teare the Garter from thy Crauens legge,
Which I haue done, because (vnworthily)

Thou was't installed in that High Degree. Pardon me Princely Henry, and
the rest:

This Dastard, at the battell of Poictiers, When (but in all) I was sixe
thousand strong, And that the French were almost ten to one, Before we
met, or that a stroke was giuen, Like to a trustie Squire, did run
away.

In which assault, we lost twelue hundred men. My selfe, and diuers
Gentlemen beside,

Were there surpriz'd, and taken prisoners. Then iudge (great Lords) if
I haue done amisse: Or whether that such Cowards ought to weare This
Ornament of Knighthood, yea or no?

Glo. To say the truth, this fact was infamous, And ill beseeming any
common man;

Much more a Knight, a Captaine, and a Leader

Tal. When first this Order was ordain'd my Lords, Knights of the
Garter were of Noble birth; Valiant, and Vertuous, full of haughtie
Courage, Such as were growne to credit by the warres: Not fearing
Death, nor shrinking for Distresse, But alwayes resolute, in most
extreames.

He then, that is not furnish'd in this sort, Doth but vsurpe the Sacred
name of Knight, Prophaning this most Honourable Order,

And should (if I were worthy to be Iudge) Be quite degraded, like a
Hedge-borne Swaine, That doth presume to boast of Gentle blood

K. Staine to thy Countrymen, thou hear'st thy doom: Be packing
therefore, thou that was't a knight: Henceforth we banish thee on paine
of death. And now Lord Protector, view the Letter

Sent from our Vnckle Duke of Burgundy

Glo. What meanes his Grace, that he hath chaung'd his Stile?

No more but plaine and bluntly? (To the King.)

Hath he forgot he is his Soueraigne?

Or doth this churlish Superscription

Pretend some alteration in good will?

What's heere? I haue vpon especiall cause, Mou'd with compassion of my
Countries wracke, Together with the pittifull complaints

Of such as your oppression feedes vpon,

Forsaken your pernitious Faction,

And ioyn'd with Charles, the rightfull king of France. O monstrous
Treachery: Can this be so?

That in alliance, amity, and oathes,

There should be found such false dissembling guile?   King. What? doth
my Vnckle Burgundy reuolt?   Glo. He doth my Lord, and is become your
foe

King. Is that the worst this Letter doth containe?   Glo. It is the
worst, and all (my Lord) he writes

King. Why then Lord Talbot there shal talk with him, And giue him
chasticement for this abuse. How say you (my Lord) are you not content?
Tal. Content, my Liege? Yes: But y I am preuented, I should haue
begg'd I might haue bene employd

King. Then gather strength, and march vnto him straight:

Let him perceiue how ill we brooke his Treason, And what offence it is
to flout his Friends

Tal. I go my Lord, in heart desiring still You may behold confusion
of your foes.

Enter Vernon and Bassit.

Ver. Grant me the Combate, gracious Soueraigne

Bas. And me (my Lord) grant me the Combate too

Yorke. This is my Seruant, heare him Noble Prince

Som. And this is mine (sweet Henry) fauour him

King. Be patient Lords, and giue them leaue to speak. Say Gentlemen,
what makes you thus exclaime, And wherefore craue you Combate? Or with
whom?   Ver. With him (my Lord) for he hath done me wrong

Bas. And I with him, for he hath done me wrong

King. What is that wrong, wherof you both complain First let me
know, and then Ile answer you

Bas. Crossing the Sea, from England into France, This Fellow heere
with enuious carping tongue, Vpbraided me about the Rose I weare,

Saying, the sanguine colour of the Leaues Did represent my Masters
blushing cheekes: When stubbornly he did repugne the truth, About a
certaine question in the Law,

Argu'd betwixt the Duke of Yorke, and him: With other vile and
ignominious tearmes.

In confutation of which rude reproach,

And in defence of my Lords worthinesse,

I craue the benefit of Law of Armes

Ver. And that is my petition (Noble Lord:) For though he seeme with
forged queint conceite To set a glosse vpon his bold intent,

Yet know (my Lord) I was prouok'd by him, And he first tooke exceptions
at this badge, Pronouncing that the palenesse of this Flower, Bewray'd
the faintnesse of my Masters heart

Yorke. Will not this malice Somerset be left?   Som. Your priuate
grudge my Lord of York, wil out, Though ne're so cunningly you smother
it

King. Good Lord, what madnesse rules in brainesicke men,

When for so slight and friuolous a cause, Such factious aemulations
shall arise?

Good Cosins both of Yorke and Somerset,

Quiet your selues (I pray) and be at peace

Yorke. Let this dissention first be tried by fight, And then your
Highnesse shall command a Peace

Som. The quarrell toucheth none but vs alone, Betwixt our selues let
vs decide it then

Yorke. There is my pledge, accept it Somerset

Ver. Nay, let it rest where it began at first

Bass. Confirme it so, mine honourable Lord

Glo. Confirme it so? Confounded be your strife, And perish ye with
your audacious prate,

Presumptuous vassals, are you not asham'd With this immodest clamorous
outrage,

To trouble and disturbe the King, and Vs? And you my Lords, me thinkes
you do not well To beare with their peruerse Obiections:

Much lesse to take occasion from their mouthes, To raise a mutiny
betwixt your selues.

Let me perswade you take a better course

Exet. It greeues his Highnesse,

Good my Lords, be Friends

King. Come hither you that would be Combatants: Henceforth I charge
you, as you loue our fauour, Quite to forget this Quarrell, and the
cause. And you my Lords: Remember where we are,

In France, amongst a fickle wauering Nation: If they perceyue
dissention in our lookes, And that within our selues we disagree;

How will their grudging stomackes be prouok'd To wilfull Disobedience,
and Rebell?

Beside, What infamy will there arise,

When Forraigne Princes shall be certified, That for a toy, a thing of
no regard,

King Henries Peeres, and cheefe Nobility, Destroy'd themselues, and
lost the Realme of France? Oh thinke vpon the Conquest of my Father, My
tender yeares, and let vs not forgoe

That for a trifle, that was bought with blood. Let me be Vmper in this
doubtfull strife: I see no reason if I weare this Rose,

That any one should therefore be suspitious I more incline to Somerset,
than Yorke:

Both are my kinsmen, and I loue them both. As well they may vpbray'd me
with my Crowne, Because (forsooth) the King of Scots is Crown'd. But
your discretions better can perswade, Then I am able to instruct or
teach:

And therefore, as we hither came in peace, So let vs still continue
peace, and loue. Cosin of Yorke, we institute your Grace

To be our Regent in these parts of France: And good my Lord of
Somerset, vnite

Your Troopes of horsemen, with his Bands of foote, And like true
Subiects, sonnes of your Progenitors, Go cheerefully together, and
digest

Your angry Choller on your Enemies.

Our Selfe, my Lord Protector, and the rest, After some respit, will
returne to Calice; From thence to England, where I hope ere long To be
presented by your Victories,

With Charles, Alanson, and that Traiterous rout.

Exeunt. Manet Yorke, Warwick, Exeter, Vernon.

War. My Lord of Yorke, I promise you the King Prettily (me thought)
did play the Orator

Yorke. And so he did, but yet I like it not, In that he weares the
badge of Somerset

War. Tush, that was but his fancie, blame him not, I dare presume
(sweet Prince) he thought no harme

York. And if I wish he did. But let it rest, Other affayres must now
be managed.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Manet Exeter.

Exet. Well didst thou Richard to suppresse thy voice: For had the
passions of thy heart burst out, I feare we should haue seene
decipher'd there More rancorous spight, more furious raging broyles,
Then yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd:

But howsoere, no simple man that sees

This iarring discord of Nobilitie,

This shouldering of each other in the Court, This factious bandying of
their Fauourites, But that it doth presage some ill euent.

'Tis much, when Scepters are in Childrens hands: But more, when Enuy
breeds vnkinde deuision, There comes the ruine, there begins confusion.
Enter.

Enter Talbot with Trumpe and Drumme, before Burdeaux.

Talb. Go to the Gates of Burdeaux Trumpeter, Summon their Generall
vnto the Wall.

Sounds.

Enter Generall aloft.

English Iohn Talbot (Captaines) call you forth, Seruant in Armes to
Harry King of England, And thus he would. Open your Citie Gates, Be
humble to vs, call my Soueraigne yours, And do him homage as obedient
Subiects,

And Ile withdraw me, and my bloody power. But if you frowne vpon this
proffer'd Peace, You tempt the fury of my three attendants, Leane
Famine, quartering Steele, and climbing Fire, Who in a moment, eeuen
with the earth,

Shall lay your stately, and ayre-brauing Towers, If you forsake the
offer of their loue

Cap. Thou ominous and fearefull Owle of death, Our Nations terror,
and their bloody scourge, The period of thy Tyranny approacheth,

On vs thou canst not enter but by death:

For I protest we are well fortified,

And strong enough to issue out and fight. If thou retire, the Dolphin
well appointed, Stands with the snares of Warre to tangle thee. On
either hand thee, there are squadrons pitcht, To wall thee from the
liberty of Flight;

And no way canst thou turne thee for redresse, But death doth front
thee with apparant spoyle, And pale destruction meets thee in the face:
Ten thousand French haue tane the Sacrament, To ryue their dangerous
Artillerie

Vpon no Christian soule but English Talbot: Loe, there thou standst a
breathing valiant man Of an inuincible vnconquer'd spirit:

This is the latest Glorie of thy praise,

That I thy enemy dew thee withall:

For ere the Glasse that now begins to runne, Finish the processe of his
sandy houre,

These eyes that see thee now well coloured, Shall see thee withered,
bloody, pale, and dead.

Drum a farre off.

Harke, harke, the Dolphins drumme, a warning bell, Sings heauy Musicke
to thy timorous soule, And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.

Exit

Tal. He Fables not, I heare the enemie: Out some light Horsemen, and
peruse their Wings. O negligent and heedlesse Discipline,

How are we park'd and bounded in a pale?

A little Heard of Englands timorous Deere, Maz'd with a yelping kennell
of French Curres. If we be English Deere, be then in blood, Not
Rascall-like to fall downe with a pinch, But rather moodie mad: And
desperate Stagges, Turne on the bloody Hounds with heads of Steele, And
make the Cowards stand aloofe at bay: Sell euery man his life as deere
as mine, And they shall finde deere Deere of vs my Friends. God, and
S[aint]. George, Talbot and Englands right, Prosper our Colours in this
dangerous fight. Enter a Messenger that meets Yorke. Enter Yorke with
Trumpet, and many

Soldiers.

Yorke. Are not the speedy scouts return'd againe, That dog'd the
mighty Army of the Dolphin?   Mess. They are return'd my Lord, and giue
it out, That he is march'd to Burdeaux with his power To fight with
Talbot as he march'd along. By your espyals were discouered

Two mightier Troopes then that the Dolphin led, Which ioyn'd with him,
and made their march for Burdeaux   Yorke. A plague vpon that Villaine
Somerset, That thus delayes my promised supply

Of horsemen, that were leuied for this siege. Renowned Talbot doth
expect my ayde,

And I am lowted by a Traitor Villaine,

And cannot helpe the noble Cheualier:

God comfort him in this necessity:

If he miscarry, farewell Warres in France. Enter another Messenger

2.Mes. Thou Princely Leader of our English strength, Neuer so
needfull on the earth of France, Spurre to the rescue of the Noble
Talbot, Who now is girdled with a waste of Iron,

And hem'd about with grim destruction:

To Burdeaux warlike Duke, to Burdeaux Yorke, Else farwell Talbot,
France, and Englands honor

Yorke. O God, that Somerset who in proud heart Doth stop my Cornets,
were in Talbots place, So should wee saue a valiant Gentleman,

By forfeyting a Traitor, and a Coward:

Mad ire, and wrathfull fury makes me weepe, That thus we dye, while
remisse Traitors sleepe

Mes. O send some succour to the distrest Lord

Yorke. He dies, we loose: I breake my warlike word: We mourne,
France smiles: We loose, they dayly get, All long of this vile Traitor
Somerset

Mes. Then God take mercy on braue Talbots soule, And on his Sonne
yong Iohn, who two houres since, I met in trauaile toward his warlike
Father; This seuen yeeres did not Talbot see his sonne, And now they
meete where both their liues are done

Yorke. Alas, what ioy shall noble Talbot haue, To bid his yong sonne
welcome to his Graue: Away, vexation almost stoppes my breath,

That sundred friends greete in the houre of death. Lucie farewell, no
more my fortune can,

But curse the cause I cannot ayde the man. Maine, Bloys, Poytiers, and
Toures, are wonne away, Long all of Somerset, and his delay.

Exit

Mes. Thus while the Vulture of sedition, Feedes in the bosome of such
great Commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to losse: The
Conquest of our scarse-cold Conqueror, That euer-liuing man of
Memorie,

Henrie the fift: Whiles they each other crosse, Liues, Honours, Lands,
and all, hurrie to losse. Enter Somerset with his Armie.

Som. It is too late, I cannot send them now: This expedition was by
Yorke and Talbot,

Too rashly plotted. All our generall force, Might with a sally of the
very Towne

Be buckled with: the ouer-daring Talbot

Hath sullied all his glosse of former Honor By this vnheedfull,
desperate, wilde aduenture: Yorke set him on to fight, and dye in
shame, That Talbot dead, great Yorke might beare the name

Cap. Heere is Sir William Lucie, who with me Set from our ore-matcht
forces forth for ayde

Som. How now Sir William, whether were you sent?   Lu. Whether my
Lord, from bought & sold L[ord]. Talbot, Who ring'd about with bold
aduersitie,

Cries out for noble Yorke and Somerset,

To beate assayling death from his weake Regions, And whiles the
honourable Captaine there

Drops bloody swet from his warre-wearied limbes, And in aduantage
lingring lookes for rescue, You his false hopes, the trust of Englands
honor, Keepe off aloofe with worthlesse emulation: Let not your priuate
discord keepe away

The leuied succours that should lend him ayde, While he renowned Noble
Gentleman

Yeeld vp his life vnto a world of oddes.

Orleance the Bastard, Charles, Burgundie, Alanson, Reignard, compasse
him about,

And Talbot perisheth by your default

Som. Yorke set him on, Yorke should haue sent him ayde

Luc. And Yorke as fast vpon your Grace exclaimes, Swearing that you
with-hold his leuied hoast, Collected for this expidition

Som. York lyes: He might haue sent, & had the Horse: I owe him
little Dutie, and lesse Loue,

And take foule scorne to fawne on him by sending

Lu. The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now intrapt
the Noble-minded Talbot: Neuer to England shall he beare his life, But
dies betraid to fortune by your strife

Som. Come go, I will dispatch the Horsemen strait: Within sixe
houres, they will be at his ayde

Lu. Too late comes rescue, he is tane or slaine, For flye he could
not, if he would haue fled: And flye would Talbot neuer though he
might

Som. If he be dead, braue Talbot then adieu

Lu. His Fame liues in the world. His Shame in you.

Exeunt.

Enter Talbot and his Sonne.

Tal. O yong Iohn Talbot, I did send for thee To tutor thee in
stratagems of Warre,

That Talbots name might be in thee reuiu'd, When saplesse Age, and
weake vnable limbes Should bring thy Father to his drooping Chaire. But
O malignant and ill-boading Starres,

Now thou art come vnto a Feast of death,

A terrible and vnauoyded danger:

Therefore deere Boy, mount on my swiftest horse, And Ile direct thee
how thou shalt escape By sodaine flight. Come, dally not, be gone

Iohn. Is my name Talbot? and am I your Sonne? And shall I flye? O,
if you loue my Mother, Dishonor not her Honorable Name,

To make a Bastard, and a Slaue of me:

The World will say, he is not Talbots blood, That basely fled, when
Noble Talbot stood

Talb. Flye, to reuenge my death, if I be slaine

Iohn. He that flyes so, will ne're returne againe

Talb. If we both stay, we both are sure to dye

Iohn. Then let me stay, and Father doe you flye: Your losse is
great, so your regard should be; My worth vnknowne, no losse is knowne
in me. Vpon my death, the French can little boast; In yours they will,
in you all hopes are lost. Flight cannot stayne the Honor you haue
wonne, But mine it will, that no Exploit haue done. You fled for
Vantage, euery one will sweare: But if I bow, they'le say it was for
feare. There is no hope that euer I will stay,

If the first howre I shrinke and run away: Here on my knee I begge
Mortalitie,

Rather then Life, preseru'd with Infamie

Talb. Shall all thy Mothers hopes lye in one Tombe?   Iohn. I,
rather then Ile shame my Mothers Wombe

Talb. Vpon my Blessing I command thee goe

Iohn. To fight I will, but not to flye the Foe

Talb. Part of thy Father may be sau'd in thee

Iohn. No part of him, but will be shame in mee

Talb. Thou neuer hadst Renowne, nor canst not lose it

Iohn. Yes, your renowned Name: shall flight abuse it?   Talb. Thy
Fathers charge shal cleare thee from y staine

Iohn. You cannot witnesse for me, being slaine. If Death be so
apparant, then both flye

Talb. And leaue my followers here to fight and dye? My Age was neuer
tainted with such shame

Iohn. And shall my Youth be guiltie of such blame? No more can I be
seuered from your side,

Then can your selfe, your selfe in twaine diuide: Stay, goe, doe what
you will, the like doe I; For liue I will not, if my Father dye

Talb. Then here I take my leaue of thee, faire Sonne, Borne to
eclipse thy Life this afternoone: Come, side by side, together liue and
dye, And Soule with Soule from France to Heauen flye. Enter.

Alarum: Excursions, wherein Talbots Sonne is hemm'd about, and Talbot

rescues him.

Talb. Saint George, and Victory; fight Souldiers, fight: The Regent
hath with Talbot broke his word, And left vs to the rage of France his
Sword. Where is Iohn Talbot? pawse, and take thy breath, I gaue thee
Life, and rescu'd thee from Death

Iohn. O twice my Father, twice am I thy Sonne: The Life thou gau'st
me first, was lost and done, Till with thy Warlike Sword, despight of
Fate, To my determin'd time thou gau'st new date

Talb. When fro[m] the Dolphins Crest thy Sword struck fire, It
warm'd thy Fathers heart with prowd desire Of bold-fac't Victorie. Then
Leaden Age,

Quicken'd with Youthfull Spleene, and Warlike Rage, Beat downe Alanson,
Orleance, Burgundie,

And from the Pride of Gallia rescued thee. The irefull Bastard
Orleance, that drew blood From thee my Boy, and had the Maidenhood

Of thy first fight, I soone encountred,

And interchanging blowes, I quickly shed

Some of his Bastard blood, and in disgrace Bespoke him thus:
Contaminated, base,

And mis-begotten blood, I spill of thine, Meane and right poore, for
that pure blood of mine, Which thou didst force from Talbot, my braue
Boy. Here purposing the Bastard to destroy,

Came in strong rescue. Speake thy Fathers care: Art thou not wearie,
Iohn? How do'st thou fare? Wilt thou yet leaue the Battaile, Boy, and
flie, Now thou art seal'd the Sonne of Chiualrie? Flye, to reuenge my
death when I am dead, The helpe of one stands me in little stead. Oh,
too much folly is it, well I wot,

To hazard all our liues in one small Boat. If I to day dye not with
Frenchmens Rage, To morrow I shall dye with mickle Age.

By me they nothing gaine, and if I stay,

'Tis but the shortning of my Life one day. In thee thy Mother dyes, our
Households Name, My Deaths Reuenge, thy Youth, and Englands Fame: All
these, and more, we hazard by thy stay; All these are sau'd, if thou
wilt flye away

Iohn. The Sword of Orleance hath not made me smart, These words of
yours draw Life-blood from my Heart. On that aduantage, bought with
such a shame, To saue a paltry Life, and slay bright Fame, Before young
Talbot from old Talbot flye, The Coward Horse that beares me, fall and
dye: And like me to the pesant Boyes of France, To be Shames scorne,
and subiect of Mischance. Surely, by all the Glorie you haue wonne, And
if I flye, I am not Talbots Sonne.

Then talke no more of flight, it is no boot, If Sonne to Talbot, dye at
Talbots foot

Talb. Then follow thou thy desp'rate Syre of Creet, Thou Icarus, thy
Life to me is sweet:

If thou wilt fight, fight by thy Fathers side, And commendable prou'd,
let's dye in pride. Enter.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter old Talbot led.

Talb. Where is my other Life? mine owne is gone. O, where's young
Talbot? where is valiant Iohn? Triumphant Death, smear'd with
Captiuitie, Young Talbots Valour makes me smile at thee. When he
perceiu'd me shrinke, and on my Knee, His bloodie Sword he brandisht
ouer mee,

And like a hungry Lyon did commence

Rough deeds of Rage, and sterne Impatience: But when my angry Guardant
stood alone,

Tendring my ruine, and assayl'd of none,

Dizzie-ey'd Furie, and great rage of Heart, Suddenly made him from my
side to start

Into the clustring Battaile of the French: And in that Sea of Blood, my
Boy did drench His ouer-mounting Spirit; and there di'de My Icarus, my
Blossome, in his pride.

Enter with Iohn Talbot, borne.

Seru. O my deare Lord, loe where your Sonne is borne

Tal. Thou antique Death, which laugh'st vs here to scorn, Anon from
thy insulting Tyrannie,

Coupled in bonds of perpetuitie,

Two Talbots winged through the lither Skie, In thy despight shall scape
Mortalitie.

O thou whose wounds become hard fauoured death, Speake to thy father,
ere thou yeeld thy breath, Braue death by speaking, whither he will or
no: Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy Foe.

Poore Boy, he smiles, me thinkes, as who should say, Had Death bene
French, then Death had dyed to day. Come, come, and lay him in his
Fathers armes, My spirit can no longer beare these harmes. Souldiers
adieu: I haue what I would haue, Now my old armes are yong Iohn Talbots
graue.

Dyes

Enter Charles, Alanson, Burgundie, Bastard, and Pucell.

Char. Had Yorke and Somerset brought rescue in, We should haue found
a bloody day of this

Bast. How the yong whelpe of Talbots raging wood, Did flesh his
punie-sword in Frenchmens blood

Puc. Once I encountred him, and thus I said: Thou Maiden youth, be
vanquisht by a Maide. But with a proud Maiesticall high scorne

He answer'd thus: Yong Talbot was not borne To be the pillage of a
Giglot Wench:

So rushing in the bowels of the French,

He left me proudly, as vnworthy fight

Bur. Doubtlesse he would haue made a noble Knight: See where he lyes
inherced in the armes

Of the most bloody Nursser of his harmes

Bast. Hew them to peeces, hack their bones assunder, Whose life was
Englands glory, Gallia's wonder

Char. Oh no forbeare: For that which we haue fled During the life,
let vs not wrong it dead. Enter Lucie.

Lu. Herald, conduct me to the Dolphins Tent, To know who hath
obtain'd the glory of the day

Char. On what submissiue message art thou sent?   Lucy. Submission
Dolphin? Tis a meere French word: We English Warriours wot not what it
meanes. I come to know what Prisoners thou hast tane, And to suruey the
bodies of the dead

Char. For prisoners askst thou? Hell our prison is. But tell me whom
thou seek'st?

Luc. But where's the great Alcides of the field, Valiant Lord Talbot
Earle of Shrewsbury?

Created for his rare successe in Armes,

Great Earle of Washford, Waterford, and Valence, Lord Talbot of Goodrig
and Vrchinfield,

Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton, Lord Cromwell of
Wingefield, Lord Furniuall of Sheffeild, The thrice victorious Lord of
Falconbridge, Knight of the Noble Order of S[aint]. George, Worthy
S[aint]. Michael, and the Golden Fleece, Great Marshall to Henry the
sixt,

Of all his Warres within the Realme of France

Puc. Heere's a silly stately stile indeede: The Turke that two and
fiftie Kingdomes hath, Writes not so tedious a Stile as this.

Him that thou magnifi'st with all these Titles, Stinking and fly-blowne
lyes heere at our feete

Lucy. Is Talbot slaine, the Frenchmens only Scourge, Your Kingdomes
terror, and blacke Nemesis? Oh were mine eye-balles into Bullets
turn'd, That I in rage might shoot them at your faces. Oh, that I could
but call these dead to life, It were enough to fright the Realme of
France. Were but his Picture left amongst you here, It would amaze the
prowdest of you all.

Giue me their Bodyes, that I may beare them hence, And giue them
Buriall, as beseemes their worth

Pucel. I thinke this vpstart is old Talbots Ghost, He speakes with
such a proud commanding spirit: For Gods sake let him haue him, to
keepe them here, They would but stinke, and putrifie the ayre

Char. Go take their bodies hence

Lucy. Ile beare them hence: but from their ashes shal be reard

A Phoenix that shall make all France affear'd

Char. So we be rid of them, do with him what y wilt. And now to
Paris in this conquering vaine, All will be ours, now bloody Talbots
slaine. Enter.



Scena secunda.

SENNET.

Enter King, Glocester, and Exeter.

King. Haue you perus'd the Letters from the Pope, The Emperor, and
the Earle of Arminack?

Glo. I haue my Lord, and their intent is this, They humbly sue vnto
your Excellence,

To haue a godly peace concluded of,

Betweene the Realmes of England, and of France

King. How doth your Grace affect their motion?   Glo. Well (my good
Lord) and as the only meanes To stop effusion of our Christian blood,

And stablish quietnesse on euery side

King. I marry Vnckle, for I alwayes thought It was both impious and
vnnaturall,

That such immanity and bloody strife

Should reigne among Professors of one Faith

Glo. Beside my Lord, the sooner to effect, And surer binde this knot
of amitie,

The Earle of Arminacke neere knit to Charles, A man of great Authoritie
in France,

Proffers his onely daughter to your Grace, In marriage, with a large
and sumptuous Dowrie

King. Marriage Vnckle? Alas my yeares are yong: And fitter is my
studie, and my Bookes,

Then wanton dalliance with a Paramour.

Yet call th' Embassadors, and as you please, So let them haue their
answeres euery one: I shall be well content with any choyce

Tends to Gods glory, and my Countries weale. Enter Winchester, and
three Ambassadors.

Exet. What, is my Lord of Winchester install'd, And call'd vnto a
Cardinalls degree?

Then I perceiue, that will be verified

Henry the Fift did sometime prophesie.

If once he come to be a Cardinall,

Hee'l make his cap coequall with the Crowne

King. My Lords Ambassadors, your seuerall suites Haue bin consider'd
and debated on,

Your purpose is both good and reasonable: And therefore are we
certainly resolu'd,

To draw conditions of a friendly peace,

Which by my Lord of Winchester we meane

Shall be transported presently to France

Glo. And for the proffer of my Lord your Master, I haue inform'd his
Highnesse so at large, As liking of the Ladies vertuous gifts,

Her Beauty, and the valew of her Dower,

He doth intend she shall be Englands Queene

King. In argument and proofe of which contract, Beare her this
Iewell, pledge of my affection. And so my Lord Protector see them
guarded, And safely brought to Douer, wherein ship'd Commit them to the
fortune of the sea.

Exeunt.

Win. Stay my Lord Legate, you shall first receiue The summe of money
which I promised

Should be deliuered to his Holinesse,

For cloathing me in these graue Ornaments

Legat. I will attend vpon your Lordships leysure

Win. Now Winchester will not submit, I trow, Or be inferiour to the
proudest Peere;

Humfrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceiue, That neither in birth, or
for authoritie, The Bishop will be ouer-borne by thee:

Ile either make thee stoope, and bend thy knee, Or sacke this Country
with a mutiny.

Exeunt.

Scoena Tertia.



Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alanson, Bastard, Reignier, and Ione.

Char. These newes (my Lords) may cheere our drooping spirits:

'Tis said, the stout Parisians do reuolt, And turne againe vnto the
warlike French

Alan. Then march to Paris Royall Charles of France, And keepe not
backe your powers in dalliance

Pucel. Peace be amongst them if they turne to vs, Else ruine combate
with their Pallaces.

Enter Scout.

Scout. Successe vnto our valiant Generall, And happinesse to his
accomplices

Char. What tidings send our Scouts? I prethee speak

Scout. The English Army that diuided was Into two parties, is now
conioyn'd in one, And meanes to giue you battell presently

Char. Somewhat too sodaine Sirs, the warning is, But we will
presently prouide for them

Bur. I trust the Ghost of Talbot is not there: Now he is gone my
Lord, you neede not feare

Pucel. Of all base passions, Feare is most accurst. Command the
Conquest Charles, it shall be thine: Let Henry fret, and all the world
repine

Char. Then on my Lords, and France be fortunate.

Exeunt. Alarum. Excursions.

Enter Ione de Pucell.

Puc. The Regent conquers, and the Frenchmen flye. Now helpe ye
charming Spelles and Periapts, And ye choise spirits that admonish me,

And giue me signes of future accidents.

Thunder.

You speedy helpers, that are substitutes

Vnder the Lordly Monarch of the North,

Appeare, and ayde me in this enterprize.

Enter Fiends.

This speedy and quicke appearance argues proofe Of your accustom'd
diligence to me.

Now ye Familiar Spirits, that are cull'd

Out of the powerfull Regions vnder earth, Helpe me this once, that
France may get the field.

They walke, and speake not.

Oh hold me not with silence ouer-long:

Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, Ile lop a member off, and
giue it you,

In earnest of a further benefit:

So you do condiscend to helpe me now.



They hang their heads.

No hope to haue redresse? My body shall

Pay recompence, if you will graunt my suite.

They shake their heads.

Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice,

Intreate you to your wonted furtherance?

Then take my soule; my body, soule, and all, Before that England giue
the French the foyle.

They depart.

See, they forsake me. Now the time is come, That France must vale her
lofty plumed Crest, And let her head fall into Englands lappe. My
ancient Incantations are too weake,

And hell too strong for me to buckle with: Now France, thy glory
droopeth to the dust. Enter.

Excursions. Burgundie and Yorke fight hand to hand. French flye.

Yorke. Damsell of France, I thinke I haue you fast, Vnchaine your
spirits now with spelling Charmes, And try if they can gaine your
liberty.

A goodly prize, fit for the diuels grace. See how the vgly Witch doth
bend her browes, As if with Circe, she would change my shape

Puc. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be:   Yor. Oh, Charles
the Dolphin is a proper man, No shape but his can please your dainty
eye

Puc. A plaguing mischeefe light on Charles, and thee, And may ye
both be sodainly surpriz'd

By bloudy hands, in sleeping on your beds

Yorke. Fell banning Hagge, Inchantresse hold thy tongue

Puc. I prethee giue me leaue to curse awhile

Yorke. Curse Miscreant, when thou comst to the stake

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Suffolke with Margaret in his hand.

Suff. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.

Gazes on her.

Oh Fairest Beautie, do not feare, nor flye: For I will touch thee but
with reuerend hands, I kisse these fingers for eternall peace, And lay
them gently on thy tender side.

Who art thou, say? that I may honor thee

Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter to a King, The King of Naples,
who so ere thou art

Suff. An Earle I am, and Suffolke am I call'd. Be not offended
Natures myracle,

Thou art alotted to be tane by me:

So doth the Swan her downie Signets saue, Keeping them prisoner
vnderneath his wings: Yet if this seruile vsage once offend,

Go, and be free againe, as Suffolkes friend.

She is going

Oh stay: I haue no power to let her passe, My hand would free her, but
my heart sayes no. As playes the Sunne vpon the glassie streames,
Twinkling another counterfetted beame,

So seemes this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. Faine would I woe her, yet
I dare not speake: Ile call for Pen and Inke, and write my minde: Fye
De la Pole, disable not thy selfe:

Hast not a Tongue? Is she not heere?

Wilt thou be daunted at a Womans sight?

I: Beauties Princely Maiesty is such,

'Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses rough

Mar. Say Earle of Suffolke, if thy name be so, What ransome must I
pay before I passe?

For I perceiue I am thy prisoner

Suf. How canst thou tell she will deny thy suite, Before thou make a
triall of her loue?

M. Why speak'st thou not? What ransom must I pay?   Suf. She's
beautifull; and therefore to be Wooed: She is a Woman; therefore to be
Wonne

Mar, Wilt thou accept of ransome, yea or no?   Suf. Fond man,
remember that thou hast a wife, Then how can Margaret be thy Paramour?

Mar. I were best to leaue him, for he will not heare

Suf. There all is marr'd: there lies a cooling card

Mar. He talkes at randon: sure the man is mad

Suf. And yet a dispensation may bee had

Mar. And yet I would that you would answer me

Suf. Ile win this Lady Margaret. For whom? Why for my King: Tush,
that's a woodden thing

Mar. He talkes of wood: It is some Carpenter

Suf. Yet so my fancy may be satisfied, And peace established
betweene these Realmes. But there remaines a scruple in that too: For
though her Father be the King of Naples, Duke of Aniou and Mayne, yet
is he poore, And our Nobility will scorne the match

Mar. Heare ye Captaine? Are you not at leysure?   Suf. It shall be
so, disdaine they ne're so much:   Henry is youthfull, and will quickly
yeeld. Madam, I haue a secret to reueale

Mar. What though I be inthral'd, he seems a knight And will not any
way dishonor me

Suf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say

Mar. Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by the French, And then I need not
craue his curtesie

Suf. Sweet Madam, giue me hearing in a cause

Mar. Tush, women haue bene captiuate ere now

Suf. Lady, wherefore talke you so?

Mar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but Quid for Quo

Suf. Say gentle Princesse, would you not suppose Your bondage happy,
to be made a Queene?

Mar. To be a Queene in bondage, is more vile, Than is a slaue, in
base seruility:

For Princes should be free

Suf. And so shall you,

If happy Englands Royall King be free

Mar. Why what concernes his freedome vnto mee?   Suf. Ile vndertake
to make thee Henries Queene, To put a Golden Scepter in thy hand,

And set a precious Crowne vpon thy head,

If thou wilt condiscend to be my-

Mar. What?

Suf. His loue

Mar. I am vnworthy to be Henries wife

Suf. No gentle Madam, I vnworthy am

To woe so faire a Dame to be his wife,

And haue no portion in the choice my selfe. How say you Madam, are ye
so content?

Mar. And if my Father please, I am content

Suf. Then call our Captaines and our Colours forth, And Madam, at
your Fathers Castle walles, Wee'l craue a parley, to conferre with
him.

Sound. Enter Reignier on the Walles.

See Reignier see, thy daughter prisoner

Reig. To whom?

Suf. To me

Reig. Suffolke, what remedy?

I am a Souldier, and vnapt to weepe,

Or to exclaime on Fortunes ficklenesse

Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough my Lord, Consent, and for thy Honor
giue consent,

Thy daughter shall be wedded to my King,

Whom I with paine haue wooed and wonne thereto: And this her easie held
imprisonment,

Hath gain'd thy daughter Princely libertie

Reig. Speakes Suffolke as he thinkes?

Suf. Faire Margaret knowes,

That Suffolke doth not flatter, face, or faine

Reig. Vpon thy Princely warrant, I descend, To giue thee answer of
thy iust demand

Suf. And heere I will expect thy comming.

Trumpets sound. Enter Reignier.

Reig. Welcome braue Earle into our Territories, Command in Aniou what
your Honor pleases

Suf. Thankes Reignier, happy for so sweet a Childe, Fit to be made
companion with a King:

What answer makes your Grace vnto my suite?   Reig. Since thou dost
daigne to woe her little worth, To be the Princely Bride of such a
Lord:

Vpon condition I may quietly

Enioy mine owne, the Country Maine and Aniou, Free from oppression, or
the stroke of Warre, My daughter shall be Henries, if he please

Suf. That is her ransome, I deliuer her, And those two Counties I
will vndertake

Your Grace shall well and quietly enioy

Reig. And I againe in Henries Royall name, As Deputy vnto that
gracious King,

Giue thee her hand for signe of plighted faith

Suf. Reignier of France, I giue thee Kingly thankes, Because this is
in Trafficke of a King.

And yet me thinkes I could be well content To be mine owne Atturney in
this case.

Ile ouer then to England with this newes. And make this marriage to be
solemniz'd:

So farewell Reignier, set this Diamond safe In Golden Pallaces as it
becomes

Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace The Christian Prince
King Henrie were he heere

Mar. Farewell my Lord, good wishes, praise, & praiers, Shall
Suffolke euer haue of Margaret.

Shee is going.

Suf. Farwell sweet Madam: but hearke you Margaret, No Princely
commendations to my King?

Mar. Such commendations as becomes a Maide, A Virgin, and his
Seruant, say to him

Suf. Words sweetly plac'd, and modestie directed, But Madame, I must
trouble you againe,

No louing Token to his Maiestie?

Mar. Yes, my good Lord, a pure vnspotted heart, Neuer yet taint with
loue, I send the King

Suf. And this withall.

Kisse her.

Mar. That for thy selfe, I will not so presume, To send such peeuish
tokens to a King

Suf. Oh wert thou for my selfe: but Suffolke stay, Thou mayest not
wander in that Labyrinth, There Minotaurs and vgly Treasons lurke,

Solicite Henry with her wonderous praise. Bethinke thee on her Vertues
that surmount, Mad naturall Graces that extinguish Art,

Repeate their semblance often on the Seas, That when thou com'st to
kneele at Henries feete, Thou mayest bereaue him of his wits with
wonder.

Exit

Enter Yorke, Warwicke, Shepheard, Pucell.

Yor. Bring forth that Sorceresse condemn'd to burne

Shep. Ah Ione, this kils thy Fathers heart out-right, Haue I sought
euery Country farre and neere, And now it is my chance to finde thee
out, Must I behold thy timelesse cruell death: Ah Ione, sweet daughter
Ione, Ile die with thee

Pucel. Decrepit Miser, base ignoble Wretch, I am am descended of a
gentler blood.

Thou art no Father, nor no Friend of mine

Shep. Out, out: My Lords, and please you, 'tis not so I did beget
her, all the Parish knowes:

Her Mother liueth yet, can testifie

She was the first fruite of my Bach'ler-ship

War. Gracelesse, wilt thou deny thy Parentage?   Yorke. This argues
what her kinde of life hath beene, Wicked and vile, and so her death
concludes

Shep. Fye Ione, that thou wilt be so obstacle: God knowes, thou art
a collop of my flesh, And for thy sake haue I shed many a teare: Deny
me not, I prythee, gentle Ione

Pucell. Pezant auant. You haue suborn'd this man Of purpose, to
obscure my Noble birth

Shep. 'Tis true, I gaue a Noble to the Priest, The morne that I was
wedded to her mother. Kneele downe and take my blessing, good my Gyrle.
Wilt thou not stoope? Now cursed be the time Of thy natiuitie: I would
the Milke

Thy mother gaue thee when thou suck'st her brest, Had bin a little
Rats-bane for thy sake.

Or else, when thou didst keepe my Lambes a-field, I wish some rauenous
Wolfe had eaten thee. Doest thou deny thy Father, cursed Drab?

O burne her, burne her, hanging is too good. Enter.

Yorke. Take her away, for she hath liu'd too long, To fill the world
with vicious qualities

Puc. First let me tell you whom you haue condemn'd; Not me, begotten
of a Shepheard Swaine,

But issued from the Progeny of Kings.

Vertuous and Holy, chosen from aboue,

By inspiration of Celestiall Grace,

To worke exceeding myracles on earth.

I neuer had to do with wicked Spirits.

But you that are polluted with your lustes, Stain'd with the guiltlesse
blood of Innocents, Corrupt and tainted with a thousand Vices: Because
you want the grace that others haue, You iudge it straight a thing
impossible

To compasse Wonders, but by helpe of diuels. No misconceyued, Ione of
Aire hath beene

A Virgin from her tender infancie,

Chaste, and immaculate in very thought,

Whose Maiden-blood thus rigorously effus'd, Will cry for Vengeance, at
the Gates of Heauen

Yorke. I, I: away with her to execution

War. And hearke ye sirs: because she is a Maide, Spare for no
Faggots, let there be enow:

Place barrelles of pitch vpon the fatall stake, That so her torture may
be shortned

Puc. Will nothing turne your vnrelenting hearts? Then Ione discouer
thine infirmity,

That warranteth by Law, to be thy priuiledge. I am with childe ye
bloody Homicides:

Murther not then the Fruite within my Wombe, Although ye hale me to a
violent death

Yor. Now heauen forfend, the holy Maid with child?   War. The
greatest miracle that ere ye wrought. Is all your strict precisenesse
come to this?   Yorke. She and the Dolphin haue bin iugling, I did
imagine what would be her refuge

War. Well go too, we'll haue no Bastards liue, Especially since
Charles must Father it

Puc. You are deceyu'd, my childe is none of his, It was Alanson that
inioy'd my loue

Yorke. Alanson that notorious Macheuile? It dyes, and if it had a
thousand liues

Puc. Oh giue me leaue, I haue deluded you, 'Twas neyther Charles,
nor yet the Duke I nam'd, But Reignier King of Naples that preuayl'd

War. A married man, that's most intollerable

Yor. Why here's a Gyrle: I think she knowes not wel (There were so
many) whom she may accuse

War. It's signe she hath beene liberall and free

Yor. And yet forsooth she is a Virgin pure. Strumpet, thy words
condemne thy Brat, and thee. Vse no intreaty, for it is in vaine

Pu. Then lead me hence: with whom I leaue my curse. May neuer
glorious Sunne reflex his beames Vpon the Countrey where you make
abode:

But darknesse, and the gloomy shade of death Inuiron you, till
Mischeefe and Dispaire, Driue you to break your necks, or hang your
selues.

Exit

Enter Cardinall.

Yorke. Breake thou in peeces, and consume to ashes, Thou fowle
accursed minister of Hell

Car. Lord Regent, I do greete your Excellence With Letters of
Commission from the King. For know my Lords, the States of
Christendome, Mou'd with remorse of these out-ragious broyles, Haue
earnestly implor'd a generall peace, Betwixt our Nation, and the
aspyring French; And heere at hand, the Dolphin and his Traine
Approacheth, to conferre about some matter

Yorke. Is all our trauell turn'd to this effect, After the slaughter
of so many Peeres,

So many Captaines, Gentlemen, and Soldiers, That in this quarrell haue
beene ouerthrowne, And sold their bodyes for their Countryes benefit,
Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace? Haue we not lost most part
of all the Townes, By Treason, Falshood, and by Treacherie,

Our great Progenitors had conquered:

Oh Warwicke, Warwicke, I foresee with greefe The vtter losse of all the
Realme of France

War. Be patient Yorke, if we conclude a Peace It shall be with such
strict and seuere Couenants, As little shall the Frenchmen gaine
thereby. Enter Charles, Alanson, Bastard, Reignier.

Char. Since Lords of England, it is thus agreed, That peacefull truce
shall be proclaim'd in France, We come to be informed by your selues,

What the conditions of that league must be

Yorke. Speake Winchester, for boyling choller chokes The hollow
passage of my poyson'd voyce,

By sight of these our balefull enemies

Win. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus: That in regard King
Henry giues consent,

Of meere compassion, and of lenity,

To ease your Countrie of distressefull Warre, And suffer you to breath
in fruitfull peace, You shall become true Liegemen to his Crowne. And
Charles, vpon condition thou wilt sweare To pay him tribute, and submit
thy selfe, Thou shalt be plac'd as Viceroy vnder him, And still enioy
thy Regall dignity

Alan. Must he be then as shadow of himselfe? Adorne his Temples with
a Coronet,

And yet in substance and authority,

Retaine but priuiledge of a priuate man?

This proffer is absurd, and reasonlesse

Char. 'Tis knowne already that I am possest With more then halfe the
Gallian Territories, And therein reuerenc'd for their lawfull King.
Shall I for lucre of the rest vn-vanquisht, Detract so much from that
prerogatiue,

As to be call'd but Viceroy of the whole? No Lord Ambassador, Ile
rather keepe

That which I haue, than coueting for more Be cast from possibility of
all

Yorke. Insulting Charles, hast thou by secret meanes Vs'd
intercession to obtaine a league,

And now the matter growes to compremize,

Stand'st thou aloofe vpon Comparison.

Either accept the Title thou vsurp'st,

Of benefit proceeding from our King,

And not of any challenge of Desert,

Or we will plague thee with incessant Warres

Reig. My Lord, you do not well in obstinacy, To cauill in the course
of this Contract: If once it be neglected, ten to one

We shall not finde like opportunity

Alan. To say the truth, it is your policie, To saue your Subiects
from such massacre

And ruthlesse slaughters as are dayly seene By our proceeding in
Hostility,

And therefore take this compact of a Truce, Although you breake it,
when your pleasure serues

War. How sayst thou Charles?

Shall our Condition stand?

Char. It Shall:

Onely reseru'd, you claime no interest

In any of our Townes of Garrison

Yor. Then sweare Allegeance to his Maiesty, As thou art Knight,
neuer to disobey,

Nor be Rebellious to the Crowne of England, Thou nor thy Nobles, to the
Crowne of England. So, now dismisse your Army when ye please: Hang vp
your Ensignes, let your Drummes be still, For heere we entertaine a
solemne peace.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Suffolke in conference with the King, Glocester, and Exeter.

King. Your wondrous rare description (noble Earle) Of beauteous
Margaret hath astonish'd me: Her vertues graced with externall gifts,

Do breed Loues setled passions in my heart, And like as rigour of
tempestuous gustes

Prouokes the mightiest Hulke against the tide, So am I driuen by breath
of her Renowne,

Either to suffer Shipwracke, or arriue

Where I may haue fruition of her Loue

Suf. Tush my good Lord, this superficiall tale, Is but a preface of
her worthy praise:

The cheefe perfections of that louely Dame, (Had I sufficient skill to
vtter them)

Would make a volume of inticing lines,

Able to rauish any dull conceit.

And which is more, she is not so Diuine,

So full repleate with choice of all delights, But with as humble
lowlinesse of minde,

She is content to be at your command:

Command I meane, of Vertuous chaste intents, To Loue, and Honor Henry
as her Lord

King. And otherwise, will Henry ne're presume: Therefore my Lord
Protector, giue consent, That Marg'ret may be Englands Royall Queene

Glo. So should I giue consent to flatter sinne, You know (my Lord)
your Highnesse is betroath'd Vnto another Lady of esteeme,

How shall we then dispense with that contract, And not deface your
Honor with reproach?

Suf. As doth a Ruler with vnlawfull Oathes, Or one that at a Triumph,
hauing vow'd

To try his strength, forsaketh yet the Listes By reason of his
Aduersaries oddes.

A poore Earles daughter is vnequall oddes, And therefore may be broke
without offence

Gloucester. Why what (I pray) is Margaret more then that?

Her Father is no better than an Earle,

Although in glorious Titles he excell

Suf. Yes my Lord, her Father is a King, The King of Naples, and
Ierusalem,

And of such great Authoritie in France,

As his alliance will confirme our peace,

And keepe the Frenchmen in Allegeance

Glo. And so the Earle of Arminacke may doe, Because he is neere
Kinsman vnto Charles

Exet. Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal dower, Where
Reignier sooner will receyue, than giue

Suf. A Dowre my Lords? Disgrace not so your King, That he should be
so abiect, base, and poore, To choose for wealth, and not for perfect
Loue. Henry is able to enrich his Queene,

And not to seeke a Queene to make him rich, So worthlesse Pezants
bargaine for their Wiues, As Market men for Oxen, Sheepe, or Horse.
Marriage is a matter of more worth,

Then to be dealt in by Atturney-ship:

Not whom we will, but whom his Grace affects, Must be companion of his
Nuptiall bed.

And therefore Lords, since he affects her most, Most of all these
reasons bindeth vs,

In our opinions she should be preferr'd.

For what is wedlocke forced? but a Hell,

An Age of discord and continuall strife,

Whereas the contrarie bringeth blisse,

And is a patterne of Celestiall peace.

Whom should we match with Henry being a King, But Margaret, that is
daughter to a King: Her peerelesse feature, ioyned with her birth,
Approues her fit for none, but for a King. Her valiant courage, and
vndaunted spirit, (More then in women commonly is seene)

Will answer our hope in issue of a King.

For Henry, sonne vnto a Conqueror,

Is likely to beget more Conquerors,

If with a Lady of so high resolue,

(As is faire Margaret) he be link'd in loue. Then yeeld my Lords, and
heere conclude with mee, That Margaret shall be Queene, and none but
shee

King. Whether it be through force of your report, My Noble Lord of
Suffolke: Or for that

My tender youth was neuer yet attaint

With any passion of inflaming Loue,

I cannot tell: but this I am assur'd,

I feele such sharpe dissention in my breast, Such fierce alarums both
of Hope and Feare, As I am sicke with working of my thoughts. Take
therefore shipping, poste my Lord to France, Agree to any couenants,
and procure

That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come

To crosse the Seas to England, and be crown'd King Henries faithfull
and annointed Queene. For your expences and sufficient charge,

Among the people gather vp a tenth.

Be gone I say, for till you do returne,

I rest perplexed with a thousand Cares.

And you (good Vnckle) banish all offence: If you do censure me, by what
you were,

Not what you are, I know it will excuse

This sodaine execution of my will.

And so conduct me, where from company,

I may reuolue and ruminate my greefe.

Enter.

Glo. I greefe I feare me, both at first and last.

Exit Glocester.

Suf. Thus Suffolke hath preuail'd, and thus he goes As did the
youthfull Paris once to Greece, With hope to finde the like euent in
loue, But prosper better than the Troian did:

Margaret shall now be Queene, and rule the King: But I will rule both
her, the King, and Realme.

Exit



FINIS. The first Part of Henry the Sixt.



The second Part of Henry the Sixt

with the death of the Good Duke Hvmfrey

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.



Flourish of Trumpets: Then Hoboyes.

Enter King, Duke Humfrey, Salisbury, Warwicke, and Beauford on the one

side. The Queene, Suffolke, Yorke, Somerset, and Buckingham, on the
other.



Suffolke. As by your high Imperiall Maiesty, I had in charge at my
depart for France,

As Procurator to your Excellence,

To marry Princes Margaret for your Grace; So in the Famous Ancient
City, Toures,

In presence of the Kings of France, and Sicill, The Dukes of Orleance,
Calaber, Britaigne, and Alanson, Seuen Earles, twelue Barons, & twenty
reuerend Bishops I haue perform'd my Taske, and was espous'd, And
humbly now vpon my bended knee,

In sight of England, and her Lordly Peeres, Deliuer vp my Title in the
Queene

To your most gracious hands, that are the Substance Of that great
Shadow I did represent:

The happiest Gift, that euer Marquesse gaue, The Fairest Queene, that
euer King receiu'd

King. Suffolke arise. Welcome Queene Margaret, I can expresse no
kinder signe of Loue

Then this kinde kisse: O Lord, that lends me life, Lend me a heart
repleate with thankfulnesse: For thou hast giuen me in this beauteous
Face A world of earthly blessings to my soule, If Simpathy of Loue
vnite our thoughts

Queen. Great King of England, & my gracious Lord, The mutuall
conference that my minde hath had, By day, by night; waking, and in my
dreames, In Courtly company, or at my Beades,

With you mine Alder liefest Soueraigne,

Makes me the bolder to salute my King,

With ruder termes, such as my wit affoords, And ouer ioy of heart doth
minister

King. Her sight did rauish, but her grace in Speech, Her words yclad
with wisedomes Maiesty,

Makes me from Wondring, fall to Weeping ioyes, Such is the Fulnesse of
my hearts content. Lords, with one cheerefull voice, Welcome my Loue

All kneel. Long liue Qu[eene]. Margaret, Englands happines

Queene. We thanke you all.

Florish

Suf. My Lord Protector, so it please your Grace, Heere are the
Articles of contracted peace, Betweene our Soueraigne, and the French
King Charles, For eighteene moneths concluded by consent

Glo. Reads. Inprimis, It is agreed betweene the French K[ing].
Charles, and William de la Pole Marquesse of Suffolke, Ambassador

for Henry King of England, That the said Henry shal espouse the Lady
Margaret, daughter vnto Reignier King of Naples, Sicillia, and
Ierusalem, and Crowne her Queene of England, ere the thirtieth of May
next ensuing. Item, That the Dutchy of Aniou, and the County of Main,
shall be released and deliuered to the King her father

King. Vnkle, how now?

Glo. Pardon me gracious Lord,

Some sodaine qualme hath strucke me at the heart, And dim'd mine eyes,
that I can reade no further

King. Vnckle of Winchester, I pray read on

Win. Item, It is further agreed betweene them, That the Dutchesse of
Aniou and Maine, shall be released and deliuered ouer to the King her
Father, and shee sent ouer of the King of Englands owne proper Cost and
Charges, without hauing any Dowry

King. They please vs well. Lord Marques kneel down, We heere create
thee the first Duke of Suffolke, And girt thee with the Sword. Cosin of
Yorke, We heere discharge your Grace from being Regent I'th parts of
France, till terme of eighteene Moneths Be full expyr'd. Thankes Vncle
Winchester, Gloster, Yorke, Buckingham, Somerset,

Salisburie, and Warwicke.

We thanke you all for this great fauour done, In entertainment to my
Princely Queene.

Come, let vs in, and with all speede prouide To see her Coronation be
perform'd.

Exit King, Queene, and Suffolke.

Manet the rest.

Glo. Braue Peeres of England, Pillars of the State, To you Duke
Humfrey must vnload his greefe: Your greefe, the common greefe of all
the Land. What? did my brother Henry spend his youth, His valour,
coine, and people in the warres? Did he so often lodge in open field:

In Winters cold, and Summers parching heate, To conquer France, his
true inheritance?

And did my brother Bedford toyle his wits, To keepe by policy what
Henrie got:

Haue you your selues, Somerset, Buckingham, Braue Yorke, Salisbury, and
victorious Warwicke, Receiud deepe scarres in France and Normandie: Or
hath mine Vnckle Beauford, and my selfe, With all the Learned Counsell
of the Realme, Studied so long, sat in the Councell house, Early and
late, debating too and fro

How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe, And hath his Highnesse
in his infancie,

Crowned in Paris in despight of foes,

And shall these Labours, and these Honours dye? Shall Henries Conquest,
Bedfords vigilance, Your Deeds of Warre, and all our Counsell dye? O
Peeres of England, shamefull is this League, Fatall this Marriage,
cancelling your Fame, Blotting your names from Bookes of memory, Racing
the Charracters of your Renowne,

Defacing Monuments of Conquer'd France,

Vndoing all as all had neuer bin

Car. Nephew, what meanes this passionate discourse? This preroration
with such circumstance:

For France, 'tis ours; and we will keepe it still

Glo. I Vnckle, we will keepe it, if we can: But now it is impossible
we should.

Suffolke, the new made Duke that rules the rost, Hath giuen the Dutchy
of Aniou and Mayne, Vnto the poore King Reignier, whose large style
Agrees not with the leannesse of his purse

Sal. Now by the death of him that dyed for all, These Counties were
the Keyes of Normandie: But wherefore weepes Warwicke, my valiant
sonne?   War. For greefe that they are past recouerie. For were there
hope to conquer them againe, My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes
no teares. Aniou and Maine? My selfe did win them both: Those
Prouinces, these Armes of mine did conquer, And are the Citties that I
got with wounds, Deliuer'd vp againe with peacefull words? Mort Dieu

Yorke. For Suffolkes Duke, may he be suffocate, That dims the Honor
of this Warlike Isle: France should haue torne and rent my very hart,
Before I would haue yeelded to this League. I neuer read but Englands
Kings haue had

Large summes of Gold, and Dowries with their wiues, And our King Henry
giues away his owne,

To match with her that brings no vantages

Hum. A proper iest, and neuer heard before, That Suffolke should
demand a whole Fifteenth, For Costs and Charges in transporting her:
She should haue staid in France, and steru'd in France Before -

Car. My Lord of Gloster, now ye grow too hot, It was the pleasure of
my Lord the King

Hum. My Lord of Winchester I know your minde. 'Tis not my speeches
that you do mislike: But 'tis my presence that doth trouble ye, Rancour
will out, proud Prelate, in thy face I see thy furie: If I longer
stay,

We shall begin our ancient bickerings:

Lordings farewell, and say when I am gone, I prophesied, France will be
lost ere long.

Exit Humfrey.

Car. So, there goes our Protector in a rage: 'Tis knowne to you he is
mine enemy:

Nay more, an enemy vnto you all,

And no great friend, I feare me to the King; Consider Lords, he is the
next of blood,

And heyre apparant to the English Crowne: Had Henrie got an Empire by
his marriage, And all the wealthy Kingdomes of the West, There's reason
he should be displeas'd at it: Looke to it Lords, let not his smoothing
words Bewitch your hearts, be wise and circumspect. What though the
common people fauour him, Calling him, Humfrey the good Duke of
Gloster, Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voyce, Iesu
maintaine your Royall Excellence,

With God preserue the good Duke Humfrey:

I feare me Lords, for all this flattering glosse, He will be found a
dangerous Protector

Buc. Why should he then protect our Soueraigne? He being of age to
gouerne of himselfe.

Cosin of Somerset, ioyne you with me,

And altogether with the Duke of Suffolke, Wee'l quickly hoyse Duke
Humfrey from his seat

Car. This weighty businesse will not brooke delay, Ile to the Duke
of Suffolke presently.

Exit Cardinall.

Som. Cosin of Buckingham, though Humfries pride And greatnesse of his
place be greefe to vs, Yet let vs watch the haughtie Cardinall,

His insolence is more intollerable

Then all the Princes in the Land beside,

If Gloster be displac'd, hee'l be Protector

Buc. Or thou, or I Somerset will be Protectors, Despite Duke
Humfrey, or the Cardinall.

Exit Buckingham, and Somerset.

Sal. Pride went before, Ambition followes him. While these do labour
for their owne preferment, Behooues it vs to labor for the Realme.

I neuer saw but Humfrey Duke of Gloster,

Did beare him like a Noble Gentleman:

Oft haue I seene the haughty Cardinall,

More like a Souldier then a man o'th' Church, As stout and proud as he
were Lord of all, Sweare like a Ruffian, and demeane himselfe Vnlike
the Ruler of a Common-weale.

Warwicke my sonne, the comfort of my age, Thy deeds, thy plainnesse,
and thy house-keeping, Hath wonne the greatest fauour of the Commons,
Excepting none but good Duke Humfrey.

And Brother Yorke, thy Acts in Ireland,

In bringing them to ciuill Discipline:

Thy late exploits done in the heart of France, When thou wert Regent
for our Soueraigne, Haue made thee fear'd and honor'd of the people,
Ioyne we together for the publike good,

In what we can, to bridle and suppresse

The pride of Suffolke, and the Cardinall, With Somersets and
Buckinghams Ambition,

And as we may, cherish Duke Humfries deeds, While they do tend the
profit of the Land

War. So God helpe Warwicke, as he loues the Land, And common profit
of his Countrey

Yor. And so sayes Yorke,

For he hath greatest cause

Salisbury. Then lets make hast away,

And looke vnto the maine

Warwicke. Vnto the maine?

Oh Father, Maine is lost,

That Maine, which by maine force Warwicke did winne, And would haue
kept, so long as breath did last: Main-chance father you meant, but I
meant Maine, Which I will win from France, or else be slaine.

Exit Warwicke, and Salisbury. Manet Yorke.

Yorke. Aniou and Maine are giuen to the French, Paris is lost, the
state of Normandie

Stands on a tickle point, now they are gone: Suffolke concluded on the
Articles,

The Peeres agreed, and Henry was well pleas'd, To change two Dukedomes
for a Dukes faire daughter. I cannot blame them all, what is't to them?
'Tis thine they giue away, and not their owne. Pirates may make cheape
penyworths of their pillage, And purchase Friends, and giue to
Curtezans, Still reuelling like Lords till all be gone, While as the
silly Owner of the goods

Weepes ouer them, and wrings his haplesse hands, And shakes his head,
and trembling stands aloofe, While all is shar'd, and all is borne
away, Ready to sterue, and dare not touch his owne. So Yorke must sit,
and fret, and bite his tongue, While his owne Lands are bargain'd for,
and sold: Me thinkes the Realmes of England, France, & Ireland, Beare
that proportion to my flesh and blood, As did the fatall brand Althaea
burnt,

Vnto the Princes heart of Calidon:

Aniou and Maine both giuen vnto the French? Cold newes for me: for I
had hope of France, Euen as I haue of fertile Englands soile. A day
will come, when Yorke shall claime his owne, And therefore I will take
the Neuils parts, And make a shew of loue to proud Duke Humfrey, And
when I spy aduantage, claime the Crowne, For that's the Golden marke I
seeke to hit: Nor shall proud Lancaster vsurpe my right, Nor hold the
Scepter in his childish Fist, Nor weare the Diadem vpon his head,

Whose Church-like humors fits not for a Crowne. Then Yorke be still
a-while, till time do serue: Watch thou, and wake when others be
asleepe, To prie into the secrets of the State,

Till Henrie surfetting in ioyes of loue,

With his new Bride, & Englands deere bought Queen, And Humfrey with the
Peeres be falne at iarres: Then will I raise aloft the
Milke-white-Rose, With whose sweet smell the Ayre shall be perfum'd,
And in my Standard beare the Armes of Yorke, To grapple with the house
of Lancaster,

And force perforce Ile make him yeeld the Crowne, Whose bookish Rule,
hath pull'd faire England downe.

Exit Yorke.

Enter Duke Humfrey and his wife Elianor.

Elia. Why droopes my Lord like ouer-ripen'd Corn, Hanging the head at
Ceres plenteous load? Why doth the Great Duke Humfrey knit his browes,
As frowning at the Fauours of the world?

Why are thine eyes fixt to the sullen earth, Gazing on that which
seemes to dimme thy sight? What seest thou there? King Henries Diadem,
Inchac'd with all the Honors of the world? If so, Gaze on, and grouell
on thy face,

Vntill thy head be circled with the same. Put forth thy hand, reach at
the glorious Gold. What, is't too short? Ile lengthen it with mine, And
hauing both together heau'd it vp,

Wee'l both together lift our heads to heauen, And neuer more abase our
sight so low,

As to vouchsafe one glance vnto the ground

Hum. O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost loue thy Lord, Banish the
Canker of ambitious thoughts:

And may that thought, when I imagine ill

Against my King and Nephew, vertuous Henry, Be my last breathing in
this mortall world. My troublous dreames this night, doth make me sad

Eli. What dream'd my Lord, tell me, and Ile requite it With sweet
rehearsall of my mornings dreame?   Hum. Me thought this staffe mine
Office-badge in Court

Was broke in twaine: by whom, I haue forgot, But as I thinke, it was
by'th Cardinall,

And on the peeces of the broken Wand

Were plac'd the heads of Edmond Duke of Somerset, And William de la
Pole first Duke of Suffolke. This was my dreame, what it doth bode God
knowes

Eli. Tut, this was nothing but an argument, That he that breakes a
sticke of Glosters groue, Shall loose his head for his presumption. But
list to me my Humfrey, my sweete Duke: Me thought I sate in Seate of
Maiesty,

In the Cathedrall Church of Westminster,

And in that Chaire where Kings & Queens wer crownd, Where Henrie and
Dame Margaret kneel'd to me, And on my head did set the Diadem

Hum. Nay Elinor, then must I chide outright: Presumptuous Dame,
ill-nurter'd Elianor,

Art thou not second Woman in the Realme?

And the Protectors wife belou'd of him?

Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command, Aboue the reach or compasse
of thy thought? And wilt thou still be hammering Treachery, To tumble
downe thy husband, and thy selfe, From top of Honor, to Disgraces
feete?

Away from me, and let me heare no more

Elia. What, what, my Lord? Are you so chollericke With Elianor, for
telling but her dreame? Next time Ile keepe my dreames vnto my selfe,
And not be check'd

Hum. Nay be not angry, I am pleas'd againe. Enter Messenger.

Mess. My Lord Protector, 'tis his Highnes pleasure, You do prepare to
ride vnto S[aint]. Albons, Where as the King and Queene do meane to
Hawke

Hu. I go. Come Nel thou wilt ride with vs?

Ex[it]. Hum[frey]

Eli. Yes my good Lord, Ile follow presently. Follow I must, I cannot
go before,

While Gloster beares this base and humble minde. Were I a Man, a Duke,
and next of blood,

I would remoue these tedious stumbling blockes, And smooth my way vpon
their headlesse neckes. And being a woman, I will not be slacke

To play my part in Fortunes Pageant.

Where are you there? Sir Iohn; nay feare not man, We are alone, here's
none but thee, & I.

Enter Hume.

Hume. Iesus preserue your Royall Maiesty

Elia. What saist thou? Maiesty: I am but Grace

Hume. But by the grace of God, and Humes aduice, Your Graces Title
shall be multiplied

Elia. What saist thou man? Hast thou as yet confer'd With Margerie
Iordane the cunning Witch,

With Roger Bollingbrooke the Coniurer?

And will they vndertake to do me good?

Hume. This they haue promised to shew your Highnes A Spirit rais'd
from depth of vnder ground, That shall make answere to such Questions,
As by your Grace shall be propounded him

Elianor. It is enough, Ile thinke vpon the Questions: When from
Saint Albones we doe make returne, Wee'le see these things effected to
the full. Here Hume, take this reward, make merry man With thy
Confederates in this weightie cause.

Exit Elianor

Hume. Hume must make merry with the Duchesse Gold: Marry and shall:
but how now, Sir Iohn Hume? Seale vp your Lips, and giue no words but
Mum, The businesse asketh silent secrecie.

Dame Elianor giues Gold, to bring the Witch: Gold cannot come amisse,
were she a Deuill. Yet haue I Gold flyes from another Coast: I dare not
say, from the rich Cardinall,

And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolke; Yet I doe finde it
so: for to be plaine,

They (knowing Dame Elianors aspiring humor) Haue hyred me to vnder-mine
the Duchesse, And buzze these Coniurations in her brayne. They say, A
craftie Knaue do's need no Broker, Yet am I Suffolke and the Cardinalls
Broker. Hume, if you take not heed, you shall goe neere To call them
both a payre of craftie Knaues. Well, so it stands: and thus I feare at
last, Humes Knauerie will be the Duchesse Wracke, And her Attainture,
will be Humphreyes fall: Sort how it will, I shall haue Gold for all.
Enter.

Enter three or foure Petitioners, the Armorers Man being one.

1.Pet. My Masters, let's stand close, my Lord Protector will come
this way by and by, and then wee may deliuer our Supplications in the
Quill

2.Pet. Marry the Lord protect him, for hee's a good man, Iesu blesse
him.

Enter Suffolke, and Queene.

Peter. Here a comes me thinkes, and the Queene with him: Ile be the
first sure

2.Pet. Come backe foole, this is the Duke of Suffolk, and not my
Lord Protector

Suff. How now fellow: would'st any thing with me?   1.Pet. I pray my
Lord pardon me, I tooke ye for my Lord Protector

Queene. To my Lord Protector? Are your Supplications to his
Lordship? Let me see them: what is thine?   1.Pet. Mine is, and't
please your Grace, against Iohn Goodman, my Lord Cardinals Man, for
keeping my House, and Lands, and Wife and all, from me

Suff. Thy Wife too? that's some Wrong indeede. What's yours? What's
heere? Against the Duke of Suffolke, for enclosing the Commons of
Melforde. How now, Sir Knaue?

2.Pet. Alas Sir, I am but a poore Petitioner of our whole Towneship

Peter. Against my Master Thomas Horner, for saying, That the Duke of
Yorke was rightfull Heire to the Crowne

Queene. What say'st thou? Did the Duke of Yorke say, hee was
rightfull Heire to the Crowne?   Peter. That my Mistresse was? No
forsooth: my Master said, That he was, and that the King was an
Vsurper

Suff. Who is there?

Enter Seruant.

Take this fellow in, and send for his Master with a Purseuant
presently: wee'le heare more of your matter before the King.

Enter.

Queene. And as for you that loue to be protected Vnder the Wings of
our Protectors Grace,

Begin your Suites anew, and sue to him.

Teare the Supplication.

Away, base Cullions: Suffolke let them goe

All. Come, let's be gone.

Enter.

Queene. My Lord of Suffolke, say, is this the guise? Is this the
Fashions in the Court of England? Is this the Gouernment of Britaines
Ile?

And this the Royaltie of Albions King?

What, shall King Henry be a Pupill still, Vnder the surly Glosters
Gouernance?

Am I a Queene in Title and in Stile,

And must be made a Subiect to a Duke?

I tell thee Poole, when in the Citie Tours Thou ran'st a-tilt in honor
of my Loue,

And stol'st away the Ladies hearts of France; I thought King Henry had
resembled thee,

In Courage, Courtship, and Proportion:

But all his minde is bent to Holinesse,

To number Aue-Maries on his Beades:

His Champions, are the Prophets and Apostles, His Weapons, holy Sawes
of sacred Writ,

His Studie is his Tilt-yard, and his Loues Are brazen Images of
Canonized Saints.

I would the Colledge of the Cardinalls

Would chuse him Pope, and carry him to Rome, And set the Triple Crowne
vpon his Head;

That were a State fit for his Holinesse

Suff. Madame be patient: as I was cause Your Highnesse came to
England, so will I In England worke your Graces full content

Queene. Beside the haughtie Protector, haue we Beauford The
imperious Churchman; Somerset, Buckingham, And grumbling Yorke: and not
the least of these, But can doe more in England then the King

Suff. And he of these, that can doe most of all, Cannot doe more in
England then the Neuils: Salisbury and Warwick are no simple Peeres

Queene. Not all these Lords do vex me halfe so much, As that prowd
Dame, the Lord Protectors Wife: She sweepes it through the Court with
troups of Ladies, More like an Empresse, then Duke Humphreyes Wife:
Strangers in Court, doe take her for the Queene: She beares a Dukes
Reuenewes on her backe, And in her heart she scornes our Pouertie:
Shall I not liue to be aueng'd on her?

Contemptuous base-borne Callot as she is, She vaunted 'mongst her
Minions t' other day, The very trayne of her worst wearing Gowne, Was
better worth then all my Fathers Lands, Till Suffolke gaue two
Dukedomes for his Daughter

Suff. Madame, my selfe haue lym'd a Bush for her, And plac't a Quier
of such enticing Birds, That she will light to listen to the Layes, And
neuer mount to trouble you againe.

So let her rest: and Madame list to me,

For I am bold to counsaile you in this;

Although we fancie not the Cardinall,

Yet must we ioyne with him and with the Lords, Till we haue brought
Duke Humphrey in disgrace. As for the Duke of Yorke, this late
Complaint Will make but little for his benefit:

So one by one wee'le weed them all at last, And you your selfe shall
steere the happy Helme. Enter.

Sound a Sennet.

Enter the King, Duke Humfrey, Cardinall, Buckingham, Yorke, Salisbury,

Warwicke, and the Duchesse.

King. For my part, Noble Lords, I care not which, Or Somerset, or
Yorke, all's one to me

Yorke. If Yorke haue ill demean'd himselfe in France, Then let him
be denay'd the Regentship

Som. If Somerset be vnworthy of the Place, Let Yorke be Regent, I
will yeeld to him

Warw. Whether your Grace be worthy, yea or no, Dispute not that,
Yorke is the worthyer

Card. Ambitious Warwicke, let thy betters speake

Warw. The Cardinall's not my better in the field

Buck. All in this presence are thy betters, Warwicke

Warw. Warwicke may liue to be the best of all

Salisb. Peace Sonne, and shew some reason Buckingham Why Somerset
should be preferr'd in this?   Queene. Because the King forsooth will
haue it so

Humf. Madame, the King is old enough himselfe To giue his Censure:
These are no Womens matters

Queene. If he be old enough, what needs your Grace To be Protector
of his Excellence?

Humf. Madame, I am Protector of the Realme, And at his pleasure will
resigne my Place

Suff. Resigne it then, and leaue thine insolence. Since thou wert
King; as who is King, but thou? The Common-wealth hath dayly run to
wrack, The Dolphin hath preuayl'd beyond the Seas, And all the Peeres
and Nobles of the Realme Haue beene as Bond-men to thy Soueraigntie

Card. The Commons hast thou rackt, the Clergies Bags Are lanke and
leane with thy Extortions

Som. Thy sumptuous Buildings, and thy Wiues Attyre Haue cost a masse
of publique Treasurie

Buck. Thy Crueltie in execution

Vpon Offendors, hath exceeded Law,

And left thee to the mercy of the Law

Queene. Thy sale of Offices and Townes in France, If they were
knowne, as the suspect is great, Would make thee quickly hop without
thy Head.

Exit Humfrey.

Giue me my Fanne: what, Mynion, can ye not?

She giues the Duchesse a box on the eare.

I cry you mercy, Madame: was it you?

Duch. Was't I? yea, I it was, prowd French-woman: Could I come neere
your Beautie with my Nayles, I could set my ten Commandements in your
face

King. Sweet Aunt be quiet, 'twas against her will

Duch. Against her will, good King? looke to't in time, Shee'le
hamper thee, and dandle thee like a Baby: Though in this place most
Master weare no Breeches, She shall not strike Dame Elianor
vnreueng'd.

Exit Elianor.

Buck. Lord Cardinall, I will follow Elianor, And listen after
Humfrey, how he proceedes: Shee's tickled now, her Fume needs no
spurres, Shee'le gallop farre enough to her destruction.

Exit Buckingham.

Enter Humfrey.

Humf. Now Lords, my Choller being ouer-blowne, With walking once
about the Quadrangle,

I come to talke of Common-wealth Affayres. As for your spightfull false
Obiections,

Proue them, and I lye open to the Law:

But God in mercie so deale with my Soule, As I in dutie loue my King
and Countrey.

But to the matter that we haue in hand:

I say, my Soueraigne, Yorke is meetest man To be your Regent in the
Realme of France

Suff. Before we make election, giue me leaue To shew some reason, of
no little force,

That Yorke is most vnmeet of any man

Yorke. Ile tell thee, Suffolke, why I am vnmeet. First, for I cannot
flatter thee in Pride: Next, if I be appointed for the Place,

My Lord of Somerset will keepe me here,

Without Discharge, Money, or Furniture,

Till France be wonne into the Dolphins hands: Last time I danc't
attendance on his will, Till Paris was besieg'd, famisht, and lost

Warw. That can I witnesse, and a fouler fact Did neuer Traytor in
the Land commit

Suff. Peace head-strong Warwicke

Warw. Image of Pride, why should I hold my peace? Enter Armorer and
his Man.

Suff. Because here is a man accused of Treason, Pray God the Duke of
Yorke excuse himselfe

Yorke. Doth any one accuse Yorke for a Traytor?   King. What mean'st
thou, Suffolke? tell me, what are these?

Suff. Please it your Maiestie, this is the man That doth accuse his
Master of High Treason; His words were these: That Richard, Duke of
Yorke, Was rightfull Heire vnto the English Crowne, And that your
Maiestie was an Vsurper

King. Say man, were these thy words?

Armorer. And't shall please your Maiestie, I neuer sayd nor thought
any such matter: God is my witnesse, I am falsely accus'd by the
Villaine

Peter. By these tenne bones, my Lords, hee did speake them to me in
the Garret one Night, as wee were scowring my Lord of Yorkes Armor

Yorke. Base Dunghill Villaine, and Mechanicall, Ile haue thy Head
for this thy Traytors speech: I doe beseech your Royall Maiestie,

Let him haue all the rigor of the Law

Armorer. Alas, my Lord, hang me if euer I spake the words: my
accuser is my Prentice, and when I did correct him for his fault the
other day, he did vow vpon his knees he would be euen with me: I haue
good witnesse of this; therefore I beseech your Maiestie, doe not cast
away an honest man for a Villaines accusation

King. Vnckle, what shall we say to this in law?   Humf. This doome,
my Lord, if I may iudge: Let Somerset be Regent o're the French,

Because in Yorke this breedes suspition;

And let these haue a day appointed them

For single Combat, in conuenient place,

For he hath witnesse of his seruants malice: This is the Law, and this
Duke Humfreyes doome

Som. I humbly thanke your Royall Maiestie

Armorer. And I accept the Combat willingly

Peter. Alas, my Lord, I cannot fight; for Gods sake pitty my case:
the spight of man preuayleth against me. O Lord haue mercy vpon me, I
shall neuer be able to fight a blow: O Lord my heart

Humf. Sirrha, or you must fight, or else be hang'd

King. Away with them to Prison: and the day of Combat, shall be the
last of the next moneth. Come Somerset, wee'le see thee sent away.

Flourish. Exeunt.

Enter the Witch, the two Priests, and Bullingbrooke.

Hume. Come my Masters, the Duchesse I tell you expects performance of
your promises

Bulling. Master Hume, we are therefore prouided: will her Ladyship
behold and heare our Exorcismes?   Hume. I, what else? feare you not
her courage

Bulling. I haue heard her reported to be a Woman of an inuincible
spirit: but it shall be conuenient, Master Hume, that you be by her
aloft, while wee be busie below; and so I pray you goe in Gods Name,
and leaue vs.

Exit Hume.

Mother Iordan, be you prostrate, and grouell on the Earth; Iohn
Southwell reade you, and let vs to our worke. Enter Elianor aloft.

Elianor. Well said my Masters, and welcome all: To this geere, the
sooner the better

Bullin. Patience, good Lady, Wizards know their times: Deepe Night,
darke Night, the silent of the Night, The time of Night when Troy was
set on fire, The time when Screech-owles cry, and Bandogs howle, And
Spirits walke, and Ghosts breake vp their Graues; That time best fits
the worke we haue in hand. Madame, sit you, and feare not: whom wee
rayse, Wee will make fast within a hallow'd Verge.

Here doe the Ceremonies belonging, and make the Circle, Bullingbrooke
or

Southwell reades, Coniuro te, &c. It Thunders and Lightens terribly:
then

the Spirit riseth.

Spirit. Ad sum

Witch. Asmath, by the eternall God,

Whose name and power thou tremblest at,

Answere that I shall aske: for till thou speake, Thou shalt not passe
from hence

Spirit. Aske what thou wilt; that I had sayd, and done

Bulling. First of the King: What shall of him become?   Spirit. The
Duke yet liues, that Henry shall depose: But him out-liue, and dye a
violent death

Bulling. What fates await the Duke of Suffolke?   Spirit. By Water
shall he dye, and take his end

Bulling. What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?   Spirit. Let him
shun Castles,

Safer shall he be vpon the sandie Plaines, Then where Castles mounted
stand.

Haue done, for more I hardly can endure

Bulling. Discend to Darknesse, and the burning Lake: False Fiend
auoide.

Thunder and Lightning. Exit Spirit.

Enter the Duke of Yorke and the Duke of Buckingham with their Guard,
and

breake in.

Yorke. Lay hands vpon these Traytors, and their trash: Beldam I
thinke we watcht you at an ynch. What Madame, are you there? the King &
Commonweale Are deepely indebted for this peece of paines; My Lord
Protector will, I doubt it not,

See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts

Elianor. Not halfe so bad as thine to Englands King, Iniurious Duke,
that threatest where's no cause

Buck. True Madame, none at all: what call you this? Away with them,
let them be clapt vp close, And kept asunder: you Madame shall with vs.
Stafford take her to thee.

Wee'le see your Trinkets here all forth-comming. All away.

Enter.

Yorke. Lord Buckingham, me thinks you watcht her well: A pretty Plot,
well chosen to build vpon. Now pray my Lord, let's see the Deuils Writ.
What haue we here?

Reades.

The Duke yet liues, that Henry shall depose: But him out-liue, and dye
a violent death. Why this is iust, Aio aeacida Romanos vincere posso.
Well, to the rest:

Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolke? By Water shall he dye,
and take his end.

What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?

Let him shunne Castles,

Safer shall he be vpon the sandie Plaines, Then where Castles mounted
stand.

Come, come, my Lords,

These Oracles are hardly attain'd,

And hardly vnderstood.

The King is now in progresse towards Saint Albones, With him, the
Husband of this louely Lady: Thither goes these Newes,

As fast as Horse can carry them:

A sorry Breakfast for my Lord Protector

Buck. Your Grace shal giue me leaue, my Lord of York, To be the
Poste, in hope of his reward

Yorke. At your pleasure, my good Lord. Who's within there, hoe?

Enter a Seruingman.

Inuite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick

To suppe with me to morrow Night. Away.

Exeunt.

Enter the King, Queene, Protector, Cardinall, and Suffolke, with
Faulkners

hallowing.

Queene. Beleeue me Lords, for flying at the Brooke, I saw not better
sport these seuen yeeres day: Yet by your leaue, the Winde was very
high, And ten to one, old Ioane had not gone out

King. But what a point, my Lord, your Faulcon made, And what a pytch
she flew aboue the rest: To see how God in all his Creatures workes,
Yea Man and Birds are fayne of climbing high

Suff. No maruell, and it like your Maiestie, My Lord Protectors
Hawkes doe towre so well, They know their Master loues to be aloft, And
beares his thoughts aboue his Faulcons Pitch

Glost. My Lord, 'tis but a base ignoble minde, That mounts no higher
then a Bird can sore:   Card. I thought as much, hee would be aboue the
Clouds

Glost. I my Lord Cardinall, how thinke you by that? Were it not good
your Grace could flye to Heauen?   King. The Treasurie of euerlasting
Ioy

Card. Thy Heauen is on Earth, thine Eyes & Thoughts Beat on a
Crowne, the Treasure of thy Heart, Pernitious Protector, dangerous
Peere,

That smooth'st it so with King and Common-weale

Glost. What, Cardinall?

Is your Priest-hood growne peremptorie?

Tantne animis Coelestibus ir, Church-men so hot? Good Vnckle hide
such mallice:

With such Holynesse can you doe it?

Suff. No mallice Sir, no more then well becomes So good a Quarrell,
and so bad a Peere

Glost. As who, my Lord?

Suff. Why, as you, my Lord,

An't like your Lordly Lords Protectorship

Glost. Why Suffolke, England knowes thine insolence

Queene. And thy Ambition, Gloster

King. I prythee peace, good Queene,

And whet not on these furious Peeres,

For blessed are the Peace-makers on Earth

Card. Let me be blessed for the Peace I make Against this prowd
Protector with my Sword

Glost. Faith holy Vnckle, would't were come to that

Card. Marry, when thou dar'st

Glost. Make vp no factious numbers for the matter, In thine owne
person answere thy abuse

Card. I, where thou dar'st not peepe:

And if thou dar'st, this Euening,

On the East side of the Groue

King. How now, my Lords?

Card. Beleeue me, Cousin Gloster,

Had not your man put vp the Fowle so suddenly, We had had more sport.

Come with thy two-hand Sword

Glost. True Vnckle, are ye aduis'd?

The East side of the Groue:

Cardinall, I am with you

King. Why how now, Vnckle Gloster?

Glost. Talking of Hawking; nothing else, my Lord. Now by Gods Mother,
Priest,

Ile shaue your Crowne for this,

Or all my Fence shall fayle

Card. Medice teipsum, Protector see to't well, protect your selfe

King. The Windes grow high,

So doe your Stomacks, Lords:

How irkesome is this Musick to my heart?

When such Strings iarre, what hope of Harmony? I pray my Lords let me
compound this strife. Enter one crying a Miracle

Glost. What meanes this noyse?

Fellow, what Miracle do'st thou proclayme?   One. A Miracle, a Miracle

Suffolke. Come to the King, and tell him what Miracle

One. Forsooth, a blinde man at Saint Albones Shrine, Within this
halfe houre hath receiu'd his sight, A man that ne're saw in his life
before

King. Now God be prays'd, that to beleeuing Soules Giues Light in
Darknesse, Comfort in Despaire. Enter the Maior of Saint Albones, and
his Brethren, bearing the man

betweene two in a Chayre.

Card. Here comes the Townes-men, on Procession, To present your
Highnesse with the man

King. Great is his comfort in this Earthly Vale, Although by his
sight his sinne be multiplyed

Glost. Stand by, my Masters, bring him neere the King, His Highnesse
pleasure is to talke with him

King. Good-fellow, tell vs here the circumstance, That we for thee
may glorifie the Lord.

What, hast thou beene long blinde, and now restor'd?   Simpc. Borne
blinde, and't please your Grace

Wife. I indeede was he

Suff. What Woman is this?

Wife. His Wife, and't like your Worship

Glost. Hadst thou been his Mother, thou could'st haue better told

King. Where wert thou borne?

Simpc. At Barwick in the North, and't like your Grace

King. Poore Soule,

Gods goodnesse hath beene great to thee:

Let neuer Day nor Night vnhallowed passe, But still remember what the
Lord hath done

Queene. Tell me, good-fellow,

Cam'st thou here by Chance, or of Deuotion, To this holy Shrine?

Simpc. God knowes of pure Deuotion,

Being call'd a hundred times, and oftner, In my sleepe, by good Saint
Albon:

Who said; Symon, come; come offer at my Shrine, And I will helpe thee

Wife. Most true, forsooth:

And many time and oft my selfe haue heard a Voyce, To call him so

Card. What, art thou lame?

Simpc. I, God Almightie helpe me

Suff. How cam'st thou so?

Simpc. A fall off of a Tree

Wife. A Plum-tree, Master

Glost. How long hast thou beene blinde?   Simpc. O borne so, Master

Glost. What, and would'st climbe a Tree?   Simpc. But that in all my
life, when I was a youth

Wife. Too true, and bought his climbing very deare

Glost. 'Masse, thou lou'dst Plummes well, that would'st venture so

Simpc. Alas, good Master, my Wife desired some Damsons, and made me
climbe, with danger of my Life

Glost. A subtill Knaue, but yet it shall not serue: Let me see thine
Eyes; winck now, now open them, In my opinion, yet thou seest not well

Simpc. Yes Master, cleare as day, I thanke God and Saint Albones

Glost. Say'st thou me so: what Colour is this Cloake of?

Simpc. Red Master, Red as Blood

Glost. Why that's well said: What Colour is my Gowne of?

Simpc. Black forsooth, Coale-Black, as Iet

King. Why then, thou know'st what Colour Iet is of?

Suff. And yet I thinke, Iet did he neuer see

Glost. But Cloakes and Gownes, before this day, a many

Wife. Neuer before this day, in all his life

Glost. Tell me Sirrha, what's my Name?   Simpc. Alas Master, I know
not

Glost. What's his Name?

Simpc. I know not

Glost. Nor his?

Simpc. No indeede, Master

Glost. What's thine owne Name?

Simpc. Saunder Simpcoxe, and if it please you, Master

Glost. Then Saunder, sit there,

The lying'st Knaue in Christendome.

If thou hadst beene borne blinde,

Thou might'st as well haue knowne all our Names, As thus to name the
seuerall Colours we doe weare. Sight may distinguish of Colours:

But suddenly to nominate them all,

It is impossible.

My Lords, Saint Albone here hath done a Miracle: And would ye not
thinke it, Cunning to be great, That could restore this Cripple to his
Legges againe

Simpc. O Master, that you could?

Glost. My Masters of Saint Albones,

Haue you not Beadles in your Towne,

And Things call'd Whippes?

Maior. Yes, my Lord, if it please your Grace

Glost. Then send for one presently

Maior. Sirrha, goe fetch the Beadle hither straight. Enter.

Glost. Now fetch me a Stoole hither by and by. Now Sirrha, if you
meane to saue your selfe from Whipping, leape me ouer this Stoole, and
runne away

Simpc. Alas Master, I am not able to stand alone: You goe about to
torture me in vaine.

Enter a Beadle with Whippes.

Glost. Well Sir, we must haue you finde your Legges. Sirrha Beadle,
whippe him till he leape ouer that same Stoole

Beadle. I will, my Lord.

Come on Sirrha, off with your Doublet, quickly

Simpc. Alas Master, what shall I doe? I am not able to stand.

After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leapes ouer the Stoole, and
runnes

away: and they follow, and cry, A Miracle.

King. O God, seest thou this, and bearest so long?   Queene. It made
me laugh, to see the Villaine runne

Glost. Follow the Knaue, and take this Drab away

Wife. Alas Sir, we did it for pure need

Glost. Let the[m] be whipt through euery Market Towne, Till they
come to Barwick, from whence they came. Enter.

Card. Duke Humfrey ha's done a Miracle to day

Suff. True: made the Lame to leape and flye away

Glost. But you haue done more Miracles then I: You made in a day, my
Lord, whole Townes to flye. Enter Buckingham.

King. What Tidings with our Cousin Buckingham?   Buck. Such as my
heart doth tremble to vnfold: A sort of naughtie persons, lewdly bent,

Vnder the Countenance and Confederacie

Of Lady Elianor, the Protectors Wife,

The Ring-leader and Head of all this Rout, Haue practis'd dangerously
against your State, Dealing with Witches and with Coniurers,

Whom we haue apprehended in the Fact,

Raysing vp wicked Spirits from vnder ground, Demanding of King Henries
Life and Death, And other of your Highnesse Priuie Councell, As more at
large your Grace shall vnderstand

Card. And so my Lord Protector, by this meanes Your Lady is
forth-comming, yet at London. This Newes I thinke hath turn'd your
Weapons edge; 'Tis like, my Lord, you will not keepe your houre

Glost. Ambitious Church-man, leaue to afflict my heart: Sorrow and
griefe haue vanquisht all my powers; And vanquisht as I am, I yeeld to
thee,

Or to the meanest Groome

King. O God, what mischiefes work the wicked ones? Heaping confusion
on their owne heads thereby

Queene. Gloster, see here the Taincture of thy Nest, And looke thy
selfe be faultlesse, thou wert best

Glost. Madame, for my selfe, to Heauen I doe appeale, How I haue
lou'd my King, and Common-weale: And for my Wife, I know not how it
stands, Sorry I am to heare what I haue heard,

Noble shee is: but if shee haue forgot

Honor and Vertue, and conuers't with such, As like to Pytch, defile
Nobilitie;

I banish her my Bed, and Companie,

And giue her as a Prey to Law and Shame,

That hath dis-honored Glosters honest Name

King. Well, for this Night we will repose vs here: To morrow toward
London, back againe,

To looke into this Businesse thorowly,

And call these foule Offendors to their Answeres; And poyse the Cause
in Iustice equall Scales, Whose Beame stands sure, whose rightful cause
preuailes.

Flourish. Exeunt.

Enter Yorke, Salisbury, and Warwick.

Yorke. Now my good Lords of Salisbury & Warwick, Our simple Supper
ended, giue me leaue,

In this close Walke, to satisfie my selfe, In crauing your opinion of
my Title,

Which is infallible, to Englands Crowne

Salisb. My Lord, I long to heare it at full

Warw. Sweet Yorke begin: and if thy clayme be good, The Neuills are
thy Subiects to command

Yorke. Then thus:

Edward the third, my Lords, had seuen Sonnes: The first, Edward the
Black-Prince, Prince of Wales; The second, William of Hatfield; and the
third, Lionel, Duke of Clarence; next to whom,

Was Iohn of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster; The fift, was Edmond Langley,
Duke of Yorke; The sixt, was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloster;
William of Windsor was the seuenth, and last. Edward the Black-Prince
dyed before his Father, And left behinde him Richard, his onely Sonne,
Who after Edward the third's death, raign'd as King, Till Henry
Bullingbrooke, Duke of Lancaster, The eldest Sonne and Heire of Iohn of
Gaunt, Crown'd by the Name of Henry the fourth,

Seiz'd on the Realme, depos'd the rightfull King, Sent his poore Queene
to France, from whence she came, And him to Pumfret; where, as all you
know, Harmelesse Richard was murthered traiterously

Warw. Father, the Duke hath told the truth; Thus got the House of
Lancaster the Crowne

Yorke. Which now they hold by force, and not by right: For Richard,
the first Sonnes Heire, being dead, The Issue of the next Sonne should
haue reign'd

Salisb. But William of Hatfield dyed without an Heire

Yorke. The third Sonne, Duke of Clarence, From whose Line I clayme
the Crowne,

Had Issue Phillip, a Daughter,

Who marryed Edmond Mortimer, Earle of March: Edmond had Issue, Roger,
Earle of March;

Roger had Issue, Edmond, Anne, and Elianor

Salisb. This Edmond, in the Reigne of Bullingbrooke, As I haue read,
layd clayme vnto the Crowne, And but for Owen Glendour, had beene King;
Who kept him in Captiuitie, till he dyed. But, to the rest

Yorke. His eldest Sister, Anne,

My Mother, being Heire vnto the Crowne,

Marryed Richard, Earle of Cambridge,

Who was to Edmond Langley,

Edward the thirds fift Sonnes Sonne;

By her I clayme the Kingdome:

She was Heire to Roger, Earle of March,

Who was the Sonne of Edmond Mortimer,

Who marryed Phillip, sole Daughter

Vnto Lionel, Duke of Clarence.

So, if the Issue of the elder Sonne

Succeed before the younger, I am King

Warw. What plaine proceedings is more plain then this? Henry doth
clayme the Crowne from Iohn of Gaunt, The fourth Sonne, Yorke claymes
it from the third: Till Lionels Issue fayles, his should not reigne. It
fayles not yet, but flourishes in thee, And in thy Sonnes, faire
slippes of such a Stock. Then Father Salisbury, kneele we together, And
in this priuate Plot be we the first, That shall salute our rightfull
Soueraigne With honor of his Birth-right to the Crowne

Both. Long liue our Soueraigne Richard, Englands King

Yorke. We thanke you Lords:

But I am not your King, till I be Crown'd, And that my Sword be
stayn'd

With heart-blood of the House of Lancaster: And that's not suddenly to
be perform'd,

But with aduice and silent secrecie.

Doe you as I doe in these dangerous dayes, Winke at the Duke of
Suffolkes insolence, At Beaufords Pride, at Somersets Ambition, At
Buckingham, and all the Crew of them,

Till they haue snar'd the Shepheard of the Flock, That vertuous Prince,
the good Duke Humfrey: 'Tis that they seeke; and they, in seeking that,
Shall finde their deaths, if Yorke can prophecie

Salisb. My Lord, breake we off; we know your minde at full

Warw. My heart assures me, that the Earle of Warwick Shall one day
make the Duke of Yorke a King

Yorke. And Neuill, this I doe assure my selfe,   Richard shall liue
to make the Earle of Warwick The greatest man in England, but the
King.

Exeunt.

Sound Trumpets. Enter the King and State, with Guard, to banish the

Duchesse.

King. Stand forth Dame Elianor Cobham,

Glosters Wife:

In sight of God, and vs, your guilt is great, Receiue the Sentence of
the Law for sinne, Such as by Gods Booke are adiudg'd to death. You
foure from hence to Prison, back againe; From thence, vnto the place of
Execution: The Witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes, And you
three shall be strangled on the Gallowes. You Madame, for you are more
Nobly borne, Despoyled of your Honor in your Life,

Shall, after three dayes open Penance done, Liue in your Countrey here,
in Banishment, With Sir Iohn Stanly, in the Ile of Man

Elianor. Welcome is Banishment, welcome were my Death

Glost. Elianor, the Law thou seest hath iudged thee, I cannot
iustifie whom the Law condemnes: Mine eyes are full of teares, my heart
of griefe. Ah Humfrey, this dishonor in thine age,

Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground. I beseech your Maiestie
giue me leaue to goe; Sorrow would sollace, and mine Age would ease

King. Stay Humfrey, Duke of Gloster,

Ere thou goe, giue vp thy Staffe,

Henry will to himselfe Protector be,

And God shall be my hope, my stay, my guide, And Lanthorne to my
feete:

And goe in peace, Humfrey, no lesse belou'd, Then when thou wert
Protector to thy King

Queene. I see no reason, why a King of yeeres Should be to be
protected like a Child,

God and King Henry gouerne Englands Realme: Giue vp your Staffe, Sir,
and the King his Realme

Glost. My Staffe? Here, Noble Henry, is my Staffe: As willingly doe
I the same resigne,

As ere thy Father Henry made it mine;

And euen as willingly at thy feete I leaue it, As others would
ambitiously receiue it.

Farewell good King: when I am dead, and gone, May honorable Peace
attend thy Throne.

Exit Gloster.

Queene. Why now is Henry King, and Margaret Queen, And Humfrey, Duke
of Gloster, scarce himselfe, That beares so shrewd a mayme: two Pulls
at once; His Lady banisht, and a Limbe lopt off.

This Staffe of Honor raught, there let it stand, Where it best fits to
be, in Henries hand

Suff. Thus droupes this loftie Pyne, & hangs his sprayes, Thus
Elianors Pride dyes in her youngest dayes

Yorke. Lords, let him goe. Please it your Maiestie, This is the day
appointed for the Combat, And ready are the Appellant and Defendant,
The Armorer and his Man, to enter the Lists, So please your Highnesse
to behold the fight

Queene. I, good my Lord: for purposely therefore Left I the Court,
to see this Quarrell try'de

King. A Gods Name see the Lysts and all things fit, Here let them
end it, and God defend the right

Yorke. I neuer saw a fellow worse bestead, Or more afraid to fight,
then is the Appellant, The seruant of this Armorer, my Lords.

Enter at one Doore the Armorer and his Neighbors, drinking to him so

much, that hee is drunke; and he enters with a Drumme before him, and
his

Staffe, with a Sand-bagge fastened to it: and at the other Doore his
Man,

with a Drumme and Sand-bagge, and Prentices drinking to him.

1.Neighbor. Here Neighbour Horner, I drinke to you in a Cup of Sack;
and feare not Neighbor, you shall doe well enough

2.Neighbor. And here Neighbour, here's a Cuppe of Charneco

3.Neighbor. And here's a Pot of good Double-Beere Neighbor: drinke,
and feare not your Man

Armorer. Let it come yfaith, and Ile pledge you all, and a figge for
Peter

1.Prent. Here Peter, I drinke to thee, and be not afraid

2.Prent. Be merry Peter, and feare not thy Master, Fight for credit
of the Prentices

Peter. I thanke you all: drinke, and pray for me, I pray you, for I
thinke I haue taken my last Draught in this World. Here Robin, and if I
dye, I giue thee my Aporne; and Will, thou shalt haue my Hammer: and
here Tom, take all the Money that I haue. O Lord blesse me, I pray God,
for I am neuer able to deale with my Master, hee hath learnt so much
fence already

Salisb. Come, leaue your drinking, and fall to blowes. Sirrha,
what's thy Name?

Peter. Peter forsooth

Salisb. Peter? what more?

Peter. Thumpe

Salisb. Thumpe? Then see thou thumpe thy Master well

Armorer. Masters, I am come hither as it were vpon my Mans
instigation, to proue him a Knaue, and my selfe an honest man: and
touching the Duke of Yorke, I will take my death, I neuer meant him any
ill, nor the King, nor the Queene: and therefore Peter haue at thee
with a downe-right blow

Yorke. Dispatch, this Knaues tongue begins to double. Sound
Trumpets, Alarum to the Combattants.

They fight, and Peter strikes him downe.

Armorer. Hold Peter, hold, I confesse, I confesse Treason

Yorke. Take away his Weapon: Fellow thanke God, and the good Wine in
thy Masters way

Peter. O God, haue I ouercome mine Enemies in this presence? O
Peter, thou hast preuayl'd in right

King. Goe, take hence that Traytor from our sight, For by his death
we doe perceiue his guilt, And God in Iustice hath reueal'd to vs

The truth and innocence of this poore fellow, Which he had thought to
haue murther'd wrongfully. Come fellow, follow vs for thy Reward.

Sound a flourish. Exeunt.

Enter Duke Humfrey and his Men in Mourning Cloakes.

Glost. Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a Cloud: And after
Summer, euermore succeedes

Barren Winter, with his wrathfull nipping Cold; So Cares and Ioyes
abound, as Seasons fleet. Sirs, what's a Clock?

Seru. Tenne, my Lord

Glost. Tenne is the houre that was appointed me, To watch the
comming of my punisht Duchesse: Vnneath may shee endure the Flintie
Streets, To treade them with her tender-feeling feet. Sweet Nell, ill
can thy Noble Minde abrooke The abiect People, gazing on thy face,

With enuious Lookes laughing at thy shame, That erst did follow thy
prowd Chariot-Wheeles, When thou didst ride in triumph through the
streets. But soft, I thinke she comes, and Ile prepare My teare-stayn'd
eyes, to see her Miseries. Enter the Duchesse in a white Sheet, and a
Taper burning in her hand, with

the Sherife and Officers.

Seru. So please your Grace, wee'le take her from the Sherife

Gloster. No, stirre not for your liues, let her passe by

Elianor. Come you, my Lord, to see my open shame? Now thou do'st
Penance too. Looke how they gaze, See how the giddy multitude doe
point,

And nodde their heads, and throw their eyes on thee. Ah Gloster, hide
thee from their hatefull lookes, And in thy Closet pent vp, rue my
shame,

And banne thine Enemies, both mine and thine

Glost. Be patient, gentle Nell, forget this griefe

Elianor. Ah Gloster, teach me to forget my selfe: For whilest I
thinke I am thy married Wife, And thou a Prince, Protector of this
Land; Me thinkes I should not thus be led along, Mayl'd vp in shame,
with Papers on my back, And follow'd with a Rabble, that reioyce

To see my teares, and heare my deepe-fet groanes. The ruthlesse Flint
doth cut my tender feet, And when I start, the enuious people laugh,
And bid me be aduised how I treade.

Ah Humfrey, can I beare this shamefull yoake? Trowest thou, that ere
Ile looke vpon the World, Or count them happy, that enioyes the Sunne?
No: Darke shall be my Light, and Night my Day. To thinke vpon my Pompe,
shall be my Hell. Sometime Ile say, I am Duke Humfreyes Wife, And he a
Prince, and Ruler of the Land:

Yet so he rul'd, and such a Prince he was, As he stood by, whilest I,
his forlorne Duchesse, Was made a wonder, and a pointing stock

To euery idle Rascall follower.

But be thou milde, and blush not at my shame, Nor stirre at nothing,
till the Axe of Death Hang ouer thee, as sure it shortly will.

For Suffolke, he that can doe all in all

With her, that hateth thee and hates vs all, And Yorke, and impious
Beauford, that false Priest, Haue all lym'd Bushes to betray thy Wings,
And flye thou how thou canst, they'le tangle thee. But feare not thou,
vntill thy foot be snar'd, Nor neuer seeke preuention of thy foes

Glost. Ah Nell, forbeare: thou aymest all awry. I must offend,
before I be attainted:

And had I twentie times so many foes,

And each of them had twentie times their power, All these could not
procure me any scathe, So long as I am loyall, true, and crimelesse.
Would'st haue me rescue thee from this reproach? Why yet thy scandall
were not wipt away,

But I in danger for the breach of Law.

Thy greatest helpe is quiet, gentle Nell: I pray thee sort thy heart to
patience,

These few dayes wonder will be quickly worne. Enter a Herald.

Her. I summon your Grace to his Maiesties Parliament, Holden at Bury,
the first of this next Moneth

Glost. And my consent ne're ask'd herein before? This is close
dealing. Well, I will be there. My Nell, I take my leaue: and Master
Sherife, Let not her Penance exceede the Kings Commission

Sh. And't please your Grace, here my Commission stayes: And Sir Iohn
Stanly is appointed now,

To take her with him to the Ile of Man

Glost. Must you, Sir Iohn, protect my Lady here?   Stanly. So am I
giuen in charge, may't please your Grace

Glost. Entreat her not the worse, in that I pray You vse her well:
the World may laugh againe, And I may liue to doe you kindnesse, if you
doe it her. And so Sir Iohn, farewell

Elianor. What, gone my Lord, and bid me not farewell?   Glost.
Witnesse my teares, I cannot stay to speake.

Exit Gloster.

Elianor. Art thou gone to? all comfort goe with thee, For none abides
with me: my Ioy, is Death; Death, at whose Name I oft haue beene
afear'd, Because I wish'd this Worlds eternitie.

Stanley, I prethee goe, and take me hence, I care not whither, for I
begge no fauor; Onely conuey me where thou art commanded

Stanley. Why, Madame, that is to the Ile of Man, There to be vs'd
according to your State

Elianor. That's bad enough, for I am but reproach: And shall I then
be vs'd reproachfully?

Stanley. Like to a Duchesse, and Duke Humfreyes Lady, According to
that State you shall be vs'd

Elianor. Sherife farewell, and better then I fare, Although thou
hast beene Conduct of my shame

Sherife. It is my Office, and Madame pardon me

Elianor. I, I, farewell, thy Office is discharg'd: Come Stanley,
shall we goe?

Stanley. Madame, your Penance done,

Throw off this Sheet,

And goe we to attyre you for our Iourney

Elianor. My shame will not be shifted with my Sheet: No, it will
hang vpon my richest Robes,

And shew it selfe, attyre me how I can.

Goe, leade the way, I long to see my Prison.

Exeunt.

Sound a Senet. Enter King, Queene, Cardinall, Suffolke, Yorke,
Buckingham,

Salisbury, and Warwicke, to the Parliament.

King. I muse my Lord of Gloster is not come: 'Tis not his wont to be
the hindmost man, What e're occasion keepes him from vs now

Queene. Can you not see? or will ye not obserue The strangenesse of
his alter'd Countenance? With what a Maiestie he beares himselfe,

How insolent of late he is become,

How prowd, how peremptorie, and vnlike himselfe. We know the time since
he was milde and affable, And if we did but glance a farre-off Looke,
Immediately he was vpon his Knee,

That all the Court admir'd him for submission. But meet him now, and be
it in the Morne, When euery one will giue the time of day, He knits his
Brow, and shewes an angry Eye, And passeth by with stiffe vnbowed
Knee,

Disdaining dutie that to vs belongs.

Small Curres are not regarded when they grynne, But great men tremble
when the Lyon rores, And Humfrey is no little Man in England.

First note, that he is neere you in discent, And should you fall, he is
the next will mount. Me seemeth then, it is no Pollicie,

Respecting what a rancorous minde he beares, And his aduantage
following your decease, That he should come about your Royall Person,
Or be admitted to your Highnesse Councell. By flatterie hath he wonne
the Commons hearts: And when he please to make Commotion,

'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him. Now 'tis the Spring, and
Weeds are shallow-rooted, Suffer them now, and they'le o're-grow the
Garden, And choake the Herbes for want of Husbandry. The reuerent care
I beare vnto my Lord,

Made me collect these dangers in the Duke. If it be fond, call it a
Womans feare:

Which feare, if better Reasons can supplant, I will subscribe, and say
I wrong'd the Duke. My Lord of Suffolke, Buckingham, and Yorke, Reproue
my allegation, if you can,

Or else conclude my words effectuall

Suff. Well hath your Highnesse seene into this Duke: And had I first
beene put to speake my minde, I thinke I should haue told your Graces
Tale. The Duchesse, by his subornation,

Vpon my Life began her diuellish practises: Or if he were not priuie to
those Faults, Yet by reputing of his high discent,

As next the King, he was successiue Heire, And such high vaunts of his
Nobilitie,

Did instigate the Bedlam braine-sick Duchesse, By wicked meanes to
frame our Soueraignes fall. Smooth runnes the Water, where the Brooke
is deepe, And in his simple shew he harbours Treason. The Fox barkes
not, when he would steale the Lambe. No, no, my Soueraigne, Glouster is
a man

Vnsounded yet, and full of deepe deceit

Card. Did he not, contrary to forme of Law, Deuise strange deaths,
for small offences done?   Yorke. And did he not, in his Protectorship,
Leuie great summes of Money through the Realme, For Souldiers pay in
France, and neuer sent it? By meanes whereof, the Townes each day
reuolted

Buck. Tut, these are petty faults to faults vnknowne, Which time
will bring to light in smooth Duke Humfrey

King. My Lords at once: the care you haue of vs, To mowe downe
Thornes that would annoy our Foot, Is worthy prayse: but shall I speake
my conscience, Our Kinsman Gloster is as innocent,

From meaning Treason to our Royall Person, As is the sucking Lambe, or
harmelesse Doue: The Duke is vertuous, milde, and too well giuen, To
dreame on euill, or to worke my downefall

Qu. Ah what's more dangerous, then this fond affiance? Seemes he a
Doue? his feathers are but borrow'd, For hee's disposed as the hatefull
Rauen. Is he a Lambe? his Skinne is surely lent him, For hee's enclin'd
as is the rauenous Wolues. Who cannot steale a shape, that meanes
deceit? Take heed, my Lord, the welfare of vs all, Hangs on the cutting
short that fraudfull man. Enter Somerset

Som. All health vnto my gracious Soueraigne

King. Welcome Lord Somerset: What Newes from France?

Som. That all your Interest in those Territories, Is vtterly bereft
you: all is lost

King. Cold Newes, Lord Somerset: but Gods will be done

Yorke. Cold Newes for me: for I had hope of France, As firmely as I
hope for fertile England. Thus are my Blossomes blasted in the Bud, And
Caterpillers eate my Leaues away:

But I will remedie this geare ere long,

Or sell my Title for a glorious Graue.

Enter Gloucester.

Glost. All happinesse vnto my Lord the King: Pardon, my Liege, that I
haue stay'd so long

Suff. Nay Gloster, know that thou art come too soone, Vnlesse thou
wert more loyall then thou art: I doe arrest thee of High Treason here

Glost. Well Suffolke, thou shalt not see me blush, Nor change my
Countenance for this Arrest: A Heart vnspotted, is not easily daunted.
The purest Spring is not so free from mudde, As I am cleare from
Treason to my Soueraigne. Who can accuse me? wherein am I guiltie?

Yorke. 'Tis thought, my Lord,

That you tooke Bribes of France,

And being Protector, stay'd the Souldiers pay, By meanes whereof, his
Highnesse hath lost France

Glost. Is it but thought so?

What are they that thinke it?

I neuer rob'd the Souldiers of their pay, Nor euer had one penny Bribe
from France. So helpe me God, as I haue watcht the Night, I, Night by
Night, in studying good for England. That Doyt that ere I wrested from
the King, Or any Groat I hoorded to my vse,

Be brought against me at my Tryall day.

No: many a Pound of mine owne proper store, Because I would not taxe
the needie Commons, Haue I dis-pursed to the Garrisons,

And neuer ask'd for restitution

Card. It serues you well, my Lord, to say so much

Glost. I say no more then truth, so helpe me God

Yorke. In your Protectorship, you did deuise Strange Tortures for
Offendors, neuer heard of, That England was defam'd by Tyrannie

Glost. Why 'tis well known, that whiles I was Protector, Pittie was
all the fault that was in me:

For I should melt at an Offendors teares, And lowly words were Ransome
for their fault: Vnlesse it were a bloody Murtherer,

Or foule felonious Theefe, that fleec'd poore passengers, I neuer gaue
them condigne punishment.

Murther indeede, that bloodie sinne, I tortur'd Aboue the Felon, or
what Trespas else

Suff. My Lord, these faults are easie, quickly answer'd: But
mightier Crimes are lay'd vnto your charge, Whereof you cannot easily
purge your selfe. I doe arrest you in his Highnesse Name,

And here commit you to my Lord Cardinall

To keepe, vntill your further time of Tryall

King. My Lord of Gloster, 'tis my speciall hope, That you will
cleare your selfe from all suspence, My Conscience tells me you are
innocent

Glost. Ah gracious Lord, these dayes are dangerous: Vertue is choakt
with foule Ambition,

And Charitie chas'd hence by Rancours hand; Foule Subornation is
predominant,

And Equitie exil'd your Highnesse Land.

I know, their Complot is to haue my Life: And if my death might make
this Iland happy, And proue the Period of their Tyrannie,

I would expend it with all willingnesse.

But mine is made the Prologue to their Play: For thousands more, that
yet suspect no perill, Will not conclude their plotted Tragedie.
Beaufords red sparkling eyes blab his hearts mallice, And Suffolks
cloudie Brow his stormie hate; Sharpe Buckingham vnburthens with his
tongue, The enuious Load that lyes vpon his heart: And dogged Yorke,
that reaches at the Moone, Whose ouer-weening Arme I haue pluckt back,
By false accuse doth leuell at my Life.

And you, my Soueraigne Lady, with the rest, Causelesse haue lay'd
disgraces on my head, And with your best endeuour haue stirr'd vp My
liefest Liege to be mine Enemie:

I, all of you haue lay'd your heads together, My selfe had notice of
your Conuenticles, And all to make away my guiltlesse Life.

I shall not want false Witnesse, to condemne me, Nor store of Treasons,
to augment my guilt: The ancient Prouerbe will be well effected, A
Staffe is quickly found to beat a Dogge

Card. My Liege, his rayling is intollerable. If those that care to
keepe your Royall Person From Treasons secret Knife, and Traytors Rage,
Be thus vpbrayded, chid, and rated at,

And the Offendor graunted scope of speech, 'Twill make them coole in
zeale vnto your Grace

Suff. Hath he not twit our Soueraigne Lady here With ignominious
words, though Clarkely coucht? As if she had suborned some to sweare

False allegations, to o'rethrow his state

Qu. But I can giue the loser leaue to chide

Glost. Farre truer spoke then meant: I lose indeede, Beshrew the
winners, for they play'd me false, And well such losers may haue leaue
to speake

Buck. Hee'le wrest the sence, and hold vs here all day. Lord
Cardinall, he is your Prisoner

Card. Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him sure

Glost. Ah, thus King Henry throwes away his Crutch, Before his
Legges be firme to beare his Body. Thus is the Shepheard beaten from
thy side, And Wolues are gnarling, who shall gnaw thee first. Ah that
my feare were false, ah that it were; For good King Henry, thy decay I
feare.

Exit Gloster.

King. My Lords, what to your wisdomes seemeth best, Doe, or vndoe, as
if our selfe were here

Queene. What, will your Highnesse leaue the Parliament?   King. I
Margaret: my heart is drown'd with griefe, Whose floud begins to flowe
within mine eyes; My Body round engyrt with miserie:

For what's more miserable then Discontent? Ah Vnckle Humfrey, in thy
face I see

The Map of Honor, Truth, and Loyaltie:

And yet, good Humfrey, is the houre to come, That ere I prou'd thee
false, or fear'd thy faith. What lowring Starre now enuies thy estate?
That these great Lords, and Margaret our Queene, Doe seeke subuersion
of thy harmelesse Life. Thou neuer didst them wrong, nor no man wrong:
And as the Butcher takes away the Calfe,

And binds the Wretch, and beats it when it strayes, Bearing it to the
bloody Slaughter-house; Euen so remorselesse haue they borne him hence:
And as the Damme runnes lowing vp and downe, Looking the way her
harmelesse young one went, And can doe naught but wayle her Darlings
losse; Euen so my selfe bewayles good Glosters case With sad
vnhelpefull teares, and with dimn'd eyes; Looke after him, and cannot
doe him good: So mightie are his vowed Enemies.

His fortunes I will weepe, and 'twixt each groane, Say, who's a
Traytor? Gloster he is none. Enter.

Queene. Free Lords:

Cold Snow melts with the Sunnes hot Beames: Henry, my Lord, is cold in
great Affaires, Too full of foolish pittie: and Glosters shew Beguiles
him, as the mournefull Crocodile With sorrow snares relenting
passengers;

Or as the Snake, roll'd in a flowring Banke, With shining checker'd
slough doth sting a Child, That for the beautie thinkes it excellent.
Beleeue me Lords, were none more wise then I, And yet herein I iudge
mine owne Wit good; This Gloster should be quickly rid the World, To
rid vs from the feare we haue of him

Card. That he should dye, is worthie pollicie, But yet we want a
Colour for his death:

'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of Law

Suff. But in my minde, that were no pollicie: The King will labour
still to saue his Life, The Commons haply rise, to saue his Life; And
yet we haue but triuiall argument,

More then mistrust, that shewes him worthy death

Yorke. So that by this, you would not haue him dye

Suff. Ah Yorke, no man aliue, so faine as I

Yorke. 'Tis Yorke that hath more reason for his death. But my Lord
Cardinall, and you my Lord of Suffolke, Say as you thinke, and speake
it from your Soules: Wer't not all one, an emptie Eagle were set, To
guard the Chicken from a hungry Kyte,

As place Duke Humfrey for the Kings Protector?   Queene. So the poore
Chicken should be sure of death

Suff. Madame 'tis true: and wer't not madnesse then, To make the Fox
surueyor of the Fold?

Who being accus'd a craftie Murtherer,

His guilt should be but idly posted ouer, Because his purpose is not
executed.

No: let him dye, in that he is a Fox,

By nature prou'd an Enemie to the Flock,

Before his Chaps be stayn'd with Crimson blood, As Humfrey prou'd by
Reasons to my Liege. And doe not stand on Quillets how to slay him: Be
it by Gynnes, by Snares, by Subtletie, Sleeping, or Waking, 'tis no
matter how,

So he be dead; for that is good deceit,

Which mates him first, that first intends deceit

Queene. Thrice Noble Suffolke, 'tis resolutely spoke

Suff. Not resolute, except so much were done, For things are often
spoke, and seldome meant, But that my heart accordeth with my tongue,
Seeing the deed is meritorious,

And to preserue my Soueraigne from his Foe, Say but the word, and I
will be his Priest

Card. But I would haue him dead, my Lord of Suffolke, Ere you can
take due Orders for a Priest: Say you consent, and censure well the
deed, And Ile prouide his Executioner,

I tender so the safetie of my Liege

Suff. Here is my Hand, the deed is worthy doing

Queene. And so say I

Yorke. And I: and now we three haue spoke it, It skills not greatly
who impugnes our doome. Enter a Poste.

Post. Great Lords, from Ireland am I come amaine, To signifie, that
Rebels there are vp,

And put the Englishmen vnto the Sword.

Send Succours (Lords) and stop the Rage betime, Before the Wound doe
grow vncurable;

For being greene, there is great hope of helpe

Card. A Breach that craues a quick expedient stoppe. What counsaile
giue you in this weightie cause?   Yorke. That Somerset be sent as
Regent thither: 'Tis meet that luckie Ruler be imploy'd,

Witnesse the fortune he hath had in France

Som. If Yorke, with all his farre-fet pollicie, Had beene the Regent
there, in stead of me, He neuer would haue stay'd in France so long

Yorke. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done. I rather would
haue lost my Life betimes, Then bring a burthen of dis-honour home,

By staying there so long, till all were lost. Shew me one skarre,
character'd on thy Skinne, Mens flesh preseru'd so whole, doe seldome
winne

Qu. Nay then, this sparke will proue a raging fire, If Wind and
Fuell be brought, to feed it with: No more, good Yorke; sweet Somerset
be still. Thy fortune, Yorke, hadst thou beene Regent there, Might
happily haue prou'd farre worse then his

Yorke. What, worse then naught? nay, then a shame take all

Somerset. And in the number, thee, that wishest shame

Card. My Lord of Yorke, trie what your fortune is: Th' vnciuill
Kernes of Ireland are in Armes, And temper Clay with blood of
Englishmen. To Ireland will you leade a Band of men,

Collected choycely, from each Countie some, And trie your hap against
the Irishmen?

Yorke. I will, my Lord, so please his Maiestie

Suff. Why, our Authoritie is his consent, And what we doe establish,
he confirmes:

Then, Noble Yorke, take thou this Taske in hand

Yorke. I am content: Prouide me Souldiers, Lords, Whiles I take
order for mine owne affaires

Suff. A charge, Lord Yorke, that I will see perform'd. But now
returne we to the false Duke Humfrey

Card. No more of him: for I will deale with him, That henceforth he
shall trouble vs no more: And so breake off, the day is almost spent,
Lord Suffolke, you and I must talke of that euent

Yorke. My Lord of Suffolke, within foureteene dayes At Bristow I
expect my Souldiers,

For there Ile shippe them all for Ireland

Suff. Ile see it truly done, my Lord of Yorke.

Exeunt.

Manet Yorke.

Yorke. Now Yorke, or neuer, steele thy fearfull thoughts, And change
misdoubt to resolution;

Be that thou hop'st to be, or what thou art; Resigne to death, it is
not worth th' enioying: Let pale-fac't feare keepe with the meane-borne
man, And finde no harbor in a Royall heart.

Faster the[n] Spring-time showres, comes thoght on thoght, And not a
thought, but thinkes on Dignitie. My Brayne, more busie then the
laboring Spider, Weaues tedious Snares to trap mine Enemies. Well
Nobles, well: 'tis politikely done,

To send me packing with an Hoast of men:

I feare me, you but warme the starued Snake, Who cherisht in your
breasts, will sting your hearts. 'Twas men I lackt, and you will giue
them me; I take it kindly: yet be well assur'd,

You put sharpe Weapons in a mad-mans hands. Whiles I in Ireland nourish
a mightie Band, I will stirre vp in England some black Storme, Shall
blowe ten thousand Soules to Heauen, or Hell: And this fell Tempest
shall not cease to rage, Vntill the Golden Circuit on my Head,

Like to the glorious Sunnes transparant Beames, Doe calme the furie of
this mad-bred Flawe. And for a minister of my intent,

I haue seduc'd a head-strong Kentishman,

Iohn Cade of Ashford,

To make Commotion, as full well he can,

Vnder the title of Iohn Mortimer.

In Ireland haue I seene this stubborne Cade Oppose himselfe against a
Troupe of Kernes, And fought so long, till that his thighes with Darts
Were almost like a sharpe-quill'd Porpentine: And in the end being
rescued, I haue seene Him capre vpright, like a wilde Morisco,

Shaking the bloody Darts, as he his Bells. Full often, like a
shag-hayr'd craftie Kerne, Hath he conuersed with the Enemie,

And vndiscouer'd, come to me againe,

And giuen me notice of their Villanies.

This Deuill here shall be my substitute;

For that Iohn Mortimer, which now is dead, In face, in gate, in speech
he doth resemble. By this, I shall perceiue the Commons minde, How they
affect the House and Clayme of Yorke. Say he be taken, rackt, and
tortured;

I know, no paine they can inflict vpon him, Will make him say, I mou'd
him to those Armes. Say that he thriue, as 'tis great like he will, Why
then from Ireland come I with my strength, And reape the Haruest which
that Rascall sow'd. For Humfrey; being dead, as he shall be,

And Henry put apart: the next for me.

Enter.

Enter two or three running ouer the Stage, from the Murther of Duke

Humfrey.

1. Runne to my Lord of Suffolke: let him know We haue dispatcht the
Duke, as he commanded

2. Oh, that it were to doe: what haue we done? Didst euer heare a
man so penitent?

Enter Suffolke.

1. Here comes my Lord

Suff. Now Sirs, haue you dispatcht this thing?   1. I, my good Lord,
hee's dead

Suff. Why that's well said. Goe, get you to my House, I will reward
you for this venturous deed: The King and all the Peeres are here at
hand. Haue you layd faire the Bed? Is all things well, According as I
gaue directions?

1. 'Tis, my good Lord

Suff. Away, be gone.

Exeunt.

Sound Trumpets. Enter the King, the Queene, Cardinall, Suffolke,
Somerset,

with Attendants.

King. Goe call our Vnckle to our presence straight: Say, we intend to
try his Grace to day,

If he be guiltie, as 'tis published

Suff. Ile call him presently, my Noble Lord. Enter

King. Lords take your places: and I pray you all Proceed no straiter
'gainst our Vnckle Gloster, Then from true euidence, of good esteeme,
He be approu'd in practise culpable

Queene. God forbid any Malice should preuayle, That faultlesse may
condemne a Noble man: Pray God he may acquit him of suspition

King. I thanke thee Nell, these wordes content mee much.

Enter Suffolke.

How now? why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou? Where is our
Vnckle? what's the matter, Suffolke?   Suff. Dead in his Bed, my Lord:
Gloster is dead

Queene. Marry God forfend

Card. Gods secret Iudgement: I did dreame to Night, The Duke was
dumbe, and could not speake a word.

King sounds.

Qu. How fares my Lord? Helpe Lords, the King is dead

Som. Rere vp his Body, wring him by the Nose

Qu. Runne, goe, helpe, helpe: Oh Henry ope thine eyes

Suff. He doth reuiue againe, Madame be patient

King. Oh Heauenly God

Qu. How fares my gracious Lord?

Suff. Comfort my Soueraigne, gracious Henry comfort

King. What, doth my Lord of Suffolke comfort me? Came he right now
to sing a Rauens Note,

Whose dismall tune bereft my Vitall powres: And thinkes he, that the
chirping of a Wren, By crying comfort from a hollow breast,

Can chase away the first-conceiued sound? Hide not thy poyson with such
sugred words, Lay not thy hands on me: forbeare I say,

Their touch affrights me as a Serpents sting. Thou balefull Messenger,
out of my sight: Vpon thy eye-balls, murderous Tyrannie

Sits in grim Maiestie, to fright the World. Looke not vpon me, for
thine eyes are wounding; Yet doe not goe away: come Basiliske,

And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight: For in the shade of death,
I shall finde ioy; In life, but double death, now Gloster's dead

Queene. Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolke thus? Although the Duke
was enemie to him,

Yet he most Christian-like laments his death: And for my selfe, Foe as
he was to me,

Might liquid teares, or heart-offending groanes, Or blood-consuming
sighes recall his Life; I would be blinde with weeping, sicke with
grones, Looke pale as Prim-rose with blood-drinking sighes, And all to
haue the Noble Duke aliue.

What know I how the world may deeme of me? For it is knowne we were but
hollow Friends: It may be iudg'd I made the Duke away,

So shall my name with Slanders tongue be wounded, And Princes Courts be
fill'd with my reproach: This get I by his death: Aye me vnhappie, To
be a Queene, and Crown'd with infamie

King. Ah woe is me for Gloster, wretched man

Queen. Be woe for me, more wretched then he is. What, Dost thou
turne away, and hide thy face? I am no loathsome Leaper, looke on me.

What? Art thou like the Adder waxen deafe? Be poysonous too, and kill
thy forlorne Queene. Is all thy comfort shut in Glosters Tombe? Why
then Dame Elianor was neere thy ioy.

Erect his Statue, and worship it,

And make my Image but an Ale-house signe. Was I for this nye wrack'd
vpon the Sea,

And twice by aukward winde from Englands banke Droue backe againe vnto
my Natiue Clime.

What boaded this? but well fore-warning winde Did seeme to say, seeke
not a Scorpions Nest, Nor set no footing on this vnkinde Shore. What
did I then? But curst the gentle gusts, And he that loos'd them forth
their Brazen Caues, And bid them blow towards Englands blessed shore,
Or turne our Sterne vpon a dreadfull Rocke: Yet aeolus would not be a
murtherer,

But left that hatefull office vnto thee.

The pretty vaulting Sea refus'd to drowne me, Knowing that thou wouldst
haue me drown'd on shore With teares as salt as Sea, through thy
vnkindnesse. The splitting Rockes cowr'd in the sinking sands, And
would not dash me with their ragged sides, Because thy flinty heart
more hard then they, Might in thy Pallace, perish Elianor.

As farre as I could ken thy Chalky Cliffes, When from thy Shore, the
Tempest beate vs backe, I stood vpon the Hatches in the storme:

And when the duskie sky, began to rob

My earnest-gaping-sight of thy Lands view, I tooke a costly Iewell from
my necke,

A Hart it was bound in with Diamonds,

And threw it towards thy Land: The Sea receiu'd it, And so I wish'd thy
body might my Heart:

And euen with this, I lost faire Englands view, And bid mine eyes be
packing with my Heart, And call'd them blinde and duskie Spectacles,
For loosing ken of Albions wished Coast.

How often haue I tempted Suffolkes tongue (The agent of thy foule
inconstancie)

To sit and watch me as Ascanius did,

When he to madding Dido would vnfold

His Fathers Acts, commenc'd in burning Troy. Am I not witcht like her?
Or thou not false like him? Aye me, I can no more: Dye Elinor,

For Henry weepes, that thou dost liue so long.

Noyse within. Enter Warwicke, and many Commons.

War. It is reported, mighty Soueraigne, That good Duke Humfrey
Traiterously is murdred By Suffolke, and the Cardinall Beaufords
meanes: The Commons like an angry Hiue of Bees

That want their Leader, scatter vp and downe, And care not who they
sting in his reuenge. My selfe haue calm'd their spleenfull mutinie,
Vntill they heare the order of his death

King. That he is dead good Warwick, 'tis too true, But how he dyed,
God knowes, not Henry:

Enter his Chamber, view his breathlesse Corpes, And comment then vpon
his sodaine death

War. That shall I do my Liege; Stay Salsburie With the rude
multitude, till I returne

King. O thou that iudgest all things, stay my thoghts: My thoughts,
that labour to perswade my soule, Some violent hands were laid on
Humfries life: If my suspect be false, forgiue me God,

For iudgement onely doth belong to thee:

Faine would I go to chafe his palie lips, With twenty thousand kisses,
and to draine Vpon his face an Ocean of salt teares,

To tell my loue vnto his dumbe deafe trunke, And with my fingers feele
his hand, vnfeeling: But all in vaine are these meane Obsequies,

Bed put forth.

And to suruey his dead and earthy Image:

What were it but to make my sorrow greater?   Warw. Come hither
gracious Soueraigne, view this body

King. That is to see how deepe my graue is made, For with his soule
fled all my worldly solace: For seeing him, I see my life in death

War. As surely as my soule intends to liue With that dread King that
tooke our state vpon him, To free vs from his Fathers wrathfull curse,
I do beleeue that violent hands were laid Vpon the life of this
thrice-famed Duke

Suf. A dreadfull Oath, sworne with a solemn tongue: What instance
giues Lord Warwicke for his vow

War. See how the blood is setled in his face. Oft haue I seene a
timely-parted Ghost,

Of ashy semblance, meager, pale, and bloodlesse, Being all descended to
the labouring heart, Who in the Conflict that it holds with death,
Attracts the same for aydance 'gainst the enemy, Which with the heart
there cooles, and ne're returneth, To blush and beautifie the Cheeke
againe. But see, his face is blacke, and full of blood: His eye-balles
further out, than when he liued, Staring full gastly, like a strangled
man: His hayre vprear'd, his nostrils stretcht with strugling: His
hands abroad display'd, as one that graspt And tugg'd for Life, and was
by strength subdude. Looke on the sheets his haire (you see) is
sticking, His well proportion'd Beard, made ruffe and rugged, Like to
the Summers Corne by Tempest lodged: It cannot be but he was murdred
heere,

The least of all these signes were probable

Suf. Why Warwicke, who should do the D[uke]. to death? My selfe and
Beauford had him in protection, And we I hope sir, are no murtherers

War. But both of you were vowed D[uke]. Humfries foes, And you
(forsooth) had the good Duke to keepe: Tis like you would not feast him
like a friend, And 'tis well seene, he found an enemy

Queen. Than you belike suspect these Noblemen, As guilty of Duke
Humfries timelesse death

Warw. Who finds the Heyfer dead, and bleeding fresh, And sees
fast-by, a Butcher with an Axe,

But will suspect, 'twas he that made the slaughter? Who finds the
Partridge in the Puttocks Nest, But may imagine how the Bird was dead,

Although the Kyte soare with vnbloudied Beake? Euen so suspitious is
this Tragedie

Qu. Are you the Butcher, Suffolk? where's your Knife? Is Beauford
tearm'd a Kyte? where are his Tallons?   Suff. I weare no Knife, to
slaughter sleeping men, But here's a vengefull Sword, rusted with ease,
That shall be scowred in his rancorous heart, That slanders me with
Murthers Crimson Badge. Say, if thou dar'st, prowd Lord of
Warwickshire, That I am faultie in Duke Humfreyes death

Warw. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolke dare him?

Qu. He dares not calme his contumelious Spirit, Nor cease to be an
arrogant Controller,

Though Suffolke dare him twentie thousand times

Warw. Madame be still: with reuerence may I say, For euery word you
speake in his behalfe, Is slander to your Royall Dignitie

Suff. Blunt-witted Lord, ignoble in demeanor, If euer Lady wrong'd
her Lord so much,

Thy Mother tooke into her blamefull Bed

Some sterne vntutur'd Churle; and Noble Stock Was graft with Crab-tree
slippe, whose Fruit thou art, And neuer of the Neuils Noble Race

Warw. But that the guilt of Murther bucklers thee, And I should rob
the Deaths-man of his Fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand
shames, And that my Soueraignes presence makes me milde, I would, false
murd'rous Coward, on thy Knee Make thee begge pardon for thy passed
speech, And say, it was thy Mother that thou meant'st, That thou thy
selfe wast borne in Bastardie; And after all this fearefull Homage
done, Giue thee thy hyre, and send thy Soule to Hell, Pernicious
blood-sucker of sleeping men

Suff. Thou shalt be waking, while I shed thy blood, If from this
presence thou dar'st goe with me

Warw. Away euen now, or I will drag thee hence: Vnworthy though thou
art, Ile cope with thee, And doe some seruice to Duke Humfreyes Ghost.

Exeunt.

King. What stronger Brest-plate then a heart vntainted? Thrice is he
arm'd, that hath his Quarrell iust; And he but naked, though lockt vp
in Steele, Whose Conscience with Iniustice is corrupted.

A noyse within.

Queene. What noyse is this?

Enter Suffolke and Warwicke, with their Weapons drawne.

King. Why how now Lords?

Your wrathfull Weapons drawne,

Here in our presence? Dare you be so bold? Why what tumultuous clamor
haue we here?

Suff. The trayt'rous Warwick, with the men of Bury, Set all vpon me,
mightie Soueraigne.

Enter Salisbury.

Salisb. Sirs stand apart, the King shall know your minde.

Dread Lord, the Commons send you word by me, Vnlesse Lord Suffolke
straight be done to death, Or banished faire Englands Territories,

They will by violence teare him from your Pallace, And torture him with
grieuous lingring death. They say, by him the good Duke Humfrey dy'de:
They say, in him they feare your Highnesse death; And meere instinct of
Loue and Loyaltie,

Free from a stubborne opposite intent,

As being thought to contradict your liking, Makes them thus forward in
his Banishment. They say, in care of your most Royall Person, That if
your Highnesse should intend to sleepe, And charge, that no man should
disturbe your rest, In paine of your dislike, or paine of death; Yet
not withstanding such a strait Edict, Were there a Serpent seene, with
forked Tongue, That slyly glyded towards your Maiestie,

It were but necessarie you were wak't:

Least being suffer'd in that harmefull slumber, The mortall Worme might
make the sleepe eternall. And therefore doe they cry, though you
forbid, That they will guard you, where you will, or no, From such fell
Serpents as false Suffolke is; With whose inuenomed and fatall sting,

Your louing Vnckle, twentie times his worth, They say is shamefully
bereft of life

Commons within. An answer from the King, my Lord of Salisbury

Suff. 'Tis like the Commons, rude vnpolisht Hindes, Could send such
Message to their Soueraigne: But you, my Lord, were glad to be
imploy'd, To shew how queint an Orator you are.

But all the Honor Salisbury hath wonne,

Is, that he was the Lord Embassador,

Sent from a sort of Tinkers to the King

Within. An answer from the King, or wee will all breake in

King. Goe Salisbury, and tell them all from me, I thanke them for
their tender louing care; And had I not beene cited so by them,

Yet did I purpose as they doe entreat:

For sure, my thoughts doe hourely prophecie, Mischance vnto my State by
Suffolkes meanes. And therefore by his Maiestie I sweare,

Whose farre-vnworthie Deputie I am,

He shall not breathe infection in this ayre, But three dayes longer, on
the paine of death

Qu. Oh Henry, let me pleade for gentle Suffolke

King. Vngentle Queene, to call him gentle Suffolke. No more I say:
if thou do'st pleade for him, Thou wilt but adde encrease vnto my
Wrath. Had I but sayd, I would haue kept my Word; But when I sweare, it
is irreuocable:

If after three dayes space thou here bee'st found, On any ground that I
am Ruler of,

The World shall not be Ransome for thy Life. Come Warwicke, come good
Warwicke, goe with mee, I haue great matters to impart to thee.

Enter.

Qu. Mischance and Sorrow goe along with you, Hearts Discontent, and
sowre Affliction,

Be play-fellowes to keepe you companie:

There's two of you, the Deuill make a third, And three-fold Vengeance
tend vpon your steps

Suff. Cease, gentle Queene, these Execrations, And let thy Suffolke
take his heauie leaue

Queen. Fye Coward woman, and soft harted wretch, Hast thou not
spirit to curse thine enemy

Suf. A plague vpon them: wherefore should I cursse them?

Would curses kill, as doth the Mandrakes grone, I would inuent as
bitter searching termes, As curst, as harsh, and horrible to heare,
Deliuer'd strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signes of
deadly hate,

As leane-fac'd enuy in her loathsome caue. My tongue should stumble in
mine earnest words, Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten Flint,
Mine haire be fixt an end, as one distract: I, euery ioynt should seeme
to curse and ban, And euen now my burthen'd heart would breake Should I
not curse them. Poyson be their drinke. Gall, worse then Gall, the
daintiest that they taste: Their sweetest shade, a groue of Cypresse
Trees: Their cheefest Prospect, murd'ring Basiliskes: Their softest
Touch, as smart as Lyzards stings: Their Musicke, frightfull as the
Serpents hisse, And boading Screech-Owles, make the Consort full. All
the foule terrors in darke seated hell -   Q. Enough sweet Suffolke,
thou torment'st thy selfe, And these dread curses like the Sunne
'gainst glasse, Or like an ouer-charged Gun, recoile,

And turnes the force of them vpon thy selfe

Suf. You bad me ban, and will you bid me leaue? Now by the ground
that I am banish'd from, Well could I curse away a Winters night,

Though standing naked on a Mountaine top, Where byting cold would neuer
let grasse grow, And thinke it but a minute spent in sport

Qu. Oh, let me intreat thee cease, giue me thy hand, That I may dew
it with my mournfull teares: Nor let the raine of heauen wet this
place, To wash away my wofull Monuments.

Oh, could this kisse be printed in thy hand, That thou might'st thinke
vpon these by the Seale, Through whom a thousand sighes are breath'd
for thee. So get thee gone, that I may know my greefe, 'Tis but
surmiz'd, whiles thou art standing by, As one that surfets, thinking on
a want:

I will repeale thee, or be well assur'd,

Aduenture to be banished my selfe:

And banished I am, if but from thee.

Go, speake not to me; euen now be gone.

Oh go not yet. Euen thus, two Friends condemn'd, Embrace, and kisse,
and take ten thousand leaues, Loather a hundred times to part then dye;
Yet now farewell, and farewell Life with thee

Suf. Thus is poore Suffolke ten times banished, Once by the King,
and three times thrice by thee. 'Tis not the Land I care for, wer't
thou thence, A Wildernesse is populous enough,

So Suffolke had thy heauenly company:

For where thou art, there is the World it selfe, With euery seuerall
pleasure in the World: And where thou art not, Desolation.

I can no more: Liue thou to ioy thy life; My selfe no ioy in nought,
but that thou liu'st. Enter Vaux.

Queene. Whether goes Vaux so fast? What newes I prethee?

Vaux. To signifie vnto his Maiesty,

That Cardinal Beauford is at point of death: For sodainly a greeuous
sicknesse tooke him, That makes him gaspe, and stare, and catch the
aire, Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth. Sometime he talkes, as
if Duke Humfries Ghost Were by his side: Sometime, he calles the King,
And whispers to his pillow, as to him,

The secrets of his ouer-charged soule,

And I am sent to tell his Maiestie,

That euen now he cries alowd for him

Qu. Go tell this heauy Message to the King.

Exit

Aye me! What is this World? What newes are these? But wherefore greeue
I at an houres poore losse, Omitting Suffolkes exile, my soules
Treasure? Why onely Suffolke mourne I not for thee? And with the
Southerne clouds, contend in teares? Theirs for the earths encrease,
mine for my sorrowes. Now get thee hence, the King thou know'st is
comming, If thou be found by me, thou art but dead

Suf. If I depart from thee, I cannot liue, And in thy sight to dye,
what were it else, But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?

Heere could I breath my soule into the ayre, As milde and gentle as the
Cradle-babe,

Dying with mothers dugge betweene it's lips. Where from thy sight, I
should be raging mad, And cry out for thee to close vp mine eyes: To
haue thee with thy lippes to stop my mouth: So should'st thou eyther
turne my flying soule, Or I should breathe it so into thy body,

And then it liu'd in sweete Elizium.

To dye by thee, were but to dye in iest,

From thee to dye, were torture more then death: Oh let me stay, befall
what may befall

Queen. Away: Though parting be a fretfull corosiue, It is applyed to
a deathfull wound.

To France sweet Suffolke: Let me heare from thee: For wheresoere thou
art in this worlds Globe, Ile haue an Iris that shall finde thee out

Suf. I go

Qu. And take my heart with thee

Suf. A Iewell lockt into the wofulst Caske, That euer did containe a
thing of worth,

Euen as a splitted Barke, so sunder we:

This way fall I to death

Qu. This way for me.

Exeunt.

Enter the King, Salisbury, and Warwicke, to the Cardinal in bed.

King. How fare's my Lord? Speake Beauford to thy Soueraigne

Ca. If thou beest death, Ile giue thee Englands Treasure, Enough to
purchase such another Island,

So thou wilt let me liue, and feele no paine

King. Ah, what a signe it is of euill life, Where death's approach
is seene so terrible

War. Beauford, it is thy Soueraigne speakes to thee

Beau. Bring me vnto my Triall when you will. Dy'de he not in his
bed? Where should he dye? Can I make men liue where they will or no? Oh
torture me no more, I will confesse.

Aliue againe? Then shew me where he is,

Ile giue a thousand pound to looke vpon him. He hath no eyes, the dust
hath blinded them. Combe downe his haire; looke, looke, it stands
vpright, Like Lime-twigs set to catch my winged soule: Giue me some
drinke, and bid the Apothecarie Bring the strong poyson that I bought
of him

King. Oh thou eternall mouer of the heauens, Looke with a gentle eye
vpon this Wretch, Oh beate away the busie medling Fiend,

That layes strong siege vnto this wretches soule, And from his bosome
purge this blacke dispaire

War. See how the pangs of death do make him grin

Sal. Disturbe him not, let him passe peaceably

King. Peace to his soule, if Gods good pleasure be. Lord Card'nall,
if thou think'st on heauens blisse, Hold vp thy hand, make signall of
thy hope. He dies and makes no signe: Oh God forgiue him

War. So bad a death, argues a monstrous life

King. Forbeare to iudge, for we are sinners all. Close vp his eyes,
and draw the Curtaine close, And let vs all to Meditation.

Exeunt.



Alarum. Fight at Sea. Ordnance goes off.

Enter Lieutenant, Suffolke, and others.

Lieu. The gaudy blabbing and remorsefull day, Is crept into the
bosome of the Sea:

And now loud houling Wolues arouse the Iades That dragge the Tragicke
melancholy night: Who with their drowsie, slow, and flagging wings
Cleape dead-mens graues, and from their misty Iawes, Breath foule
contagious darknesse in the ayre: Therefore bring forth the Souldiers
of our prize, For whilst our Pinnace Anchors in the Downes, Heere shall
they make their ransome on the sand, Or with their blood staine this
discoloured shore. Maister, this Prisoner freely giue I thee, And thou
that art his Mate, make boote of this: The other Walter Whitmore is thy
share

1.Gent. What is my ransome Master, let me know

Ma. A thousand Crownes, or else lay down your head   Mate. And so
much shall you giue, or off goes yours

Lieu. What thinke you much to pay 2000. Crownes, And beare the name
and port of Gentlemen? Cut both the Villaines throats, for dy you
shall: The liues of those which we haue lost in fight, Be
counter-poys'd with such a pettie summe

1.Gent. Ile giue it sir, and therefore spare my life

2.Gent. And so will I, and write home for it straight

Whitm. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboord, And therefore to
reuenge it, shalt thou dye, And so should these, if I might haue my
will

Lieu. Be not so rash, take ransome, let him liue

Suf. Looke on my George, I am a Gentleman, Rate me at what thou
wilt, thou shalt be payed

Whit. And so am I: my name is Walter Whitmore. How now? why starts
thou? What doth death affright?   Suf. Thy name affrights me, in whose
sound is death: A cunning man did calculate my birth,

And told me that by Water I should dye:

Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded, Thy name is Gualtier,
being rightly sounded

Whit. Gualtier or Walter, which it is I care not, Neuer yet did base
dishonour blurre our name, But with our sword we wip'd away the blot.
Therefore, when Merchant-like I sell reuenge, Broke be my sword, my
Armes torne and defac'd, And I proclaim'd a Coward through the world

Suf. Stay Whitmore, for thy Prisoner is a Prince, The Duke of
Suffolke, William de la Pole

Whit. The Duke of Suffolke, muffled vp in ragges?   Suf. I, but
these ragges are no part of the Duke

Lieu. But Ioue was neuer slaine as thou shalt be, Obscure and lowsie
Swaine, King Henries blood

Suf. The honourable blood of Lancaster Must not be shed by such a
iaded Groome:

Hast thou not kist thy hand, and held my stirrop? Bare-headed plodded
by my foot-cloth Mule, And thought thee happy when I shooke my head.
How often hast thou waited at my cup,

Fed from my Trencher, kneel'd downe at the boord, When I haue feasted
with Queene Margaret? Remember it, and let it make thee Crest-falne, I,
and alay this thy abortiue Pride:

How in our voyding Lobby hast thou stood, And duly wayted for my
comming forth?

This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalfe, And therefore shall it
charme thy riotous tongue

Whit. Speak Captaine, shall I stab the forlorn Swain

Lieu. First let my words stab him, as he hath me

Suf. Base slaue, thy words are blunt, and so art thou

Lieu. Conuey him hence, and on our long boats side, Strike off his
head

Suf. Thou dar'st not for thy owne

Lieu. Poole, Sir Poole? Lord,

I kennell, puddle, sinke, whose filth and dirt Troubles the siluer
Spring, where England drinkes: Now will I dam vp this thy yawning
mouth, For swallowing the Treasure of the Realme. Thy lips that kist
the Queene, shall sweepe the ground: And thou that smil'dst at good
Duke Humfries death, Against the senselesse windes shall grin in vaine,
Who in contempt shall hisse at thee againe. And wedded be thou to the
Hagges of hell, For daring to affye a mighty Lord

Vnto the daughter of a worthlesse King,

Hauing neyther Subiect, Wealth, nor Diadem: By diuellish policy art
thou growne great, And like ambitious Sylla ouer-gorg'd,

With gobbets of thy Mother-bleeding heart. By thee Aniou and Maine were
sold to France. The false reuolting Normans thorough thee, Disdaine to
call vs Lord, and Piccardie

Hath slaine their Gouernors, surpriz'd our Forts, And sent the ragged
Souldiers wounded home. The Princely Warwicke, and the Neuils all,
Whose dreadfull swords were neuer drawne in vaine, As hating thee, and
rising vp in armes.

And now the House of Yorke thrust from the Crowne, By shamefull murther
of a guiltlesse King, And lofty proud incroaching tyranny,

Burnes with reuenging fire, whose hopefull colours Aduance our
halfe-fac'd Sunne, striuing to shine; Vnder the which is writ, Inuitis
nubibus. The Commons heere in Kent are vp in armes, And to conclude,
Reproach and Beggerie,

Is crept into the Pallace of our King,

And all by thee: away, conuey him hence

Suf. O that I were a God, to shoot forth Thunder Vpon these paltry,
seruile, abiect Drudges: Small things make base men proud. This
Villaine heere, Being Captaine of a Pinnace, threatens more Then
Bargulus the strong Illyrian Pyrate. Drones sucke not Eagles blood, but
rob Bee-hiues: It is impossible that I should dye

By such a lowly Vassall as thy selfe.

Thy words moue Rage, and not remorse in me: I go of Message from the
Queene to France: I charge thee waft me safely crosse the Channell

Lieu. Water:

W. Come Suffolke, I must waft thee

to thy death

Suf. Pine gelidus timor occupat artus, it is thee I feare

Wal. Thou shalt haue cause to feare before I leaue thee. What, are
ye danted now? Now will ye stoope

1.Gent. My gracious Lord intreat him, speak him fair

Suf. Suffolkes Imperiall tongue is sterne and rough: Vs'd to
command, vntaught to pleade for fauour. Farre be it, we should honor
such as these With humble suite: no, rather let my head Stoope to the
blocke, then these knees bow to any, Saue to the God of heauen, and to
my King: And sooner dance vpon a bloody pole,

Then stand vncouer'd to the Vulgar Groome. True Nobility, is exempt
from feare:

More can I beare, then you dare execute

Lieu. Hale him away, and let him talke no more: Come Souldiers, shew
what cruelty ye can

Suf. That this my death may neuer be forgot. Great men oft dye by
vilde Bezonions.

A Romane Sworder, and Bandetto slaue

Murder'd sweet Tully. Brutus Bastard hand Stab'd Iulius Csar. Sauage
Islanders

Pompey the Great, and Suffolke dyes by Pyrats.

Exit Water with Suffolke.

Lieu. And as for these whose ransome we haue set, It is our pleasure
one of them depart:

Therefore come you with vs, and let him go.

Exit Lieutenant, and the rest.

Manet the first Gent. Enter Walter with the body.

Wal. There let his head, and liuelesse bodie lye, Vntill the Queene
his Mistris bury it.

Exit Walter

1.Gent. O barbarous and bloudy spectacle, His body will I beare vnto
the King:

If he reuenge it not, yet will his Friends, So will the Queene, that
liuing, held him deere. Enter Beuis, and Iohn Holland.

Beuis. Come and get thee a sword, though made of a Lath, they haue
bene vp these two dayes

Hol. They haue the more neede to sleepe now then

Beuis. I tell thee, Iacke Cade the Cloathier, meanes to dresse the
Common-wealth and turne it, and set a new nap vpon it

Hol. So he had need, for 'tis thred-bare. Well, I say, it was neuer
merrie world in England, since Gentlemen came vp

Beuis. O miserable Age: Vertue is not regarded in Handy-crafts men

Hol. The Nobilitie thinke scorne to goe in Leather Aprons

Beuis. Nay more, the Kings Councell are no good Workemen

Hol. True: and yet it is said, Labour in thy Vocation: which is as
much to say, as let the Magistrates be labouring men, and therefore
should we be Magistrates

Beuis. Thou hast hit it: for there's no better signe of a braue
minde, then a hard hand

Hol. I see them, I see them: There's Bests Sonne, the Tanner of
Wingham

Beuis. Hee shall haue the skinnes of our enemies, to make Dogges
Leather of

Hol. And Dicke the Butcher

Beuis. Then is sin strucke downe like an Oxe, and iniquities throate
cut like a Calfe

Hol. And Smith the Weauer

Beu. Argo, their thred of life is spun

Hol. Come, come, let's fall in with them.

Drumme. Enter Cade, Dicke Butcher, Smith the Weauer, and a Sawyer,
with

infinite numbers.

Cade. Wee Iohn Cade, so tearm'd of our supposed Father

But. Or rather of stealing a Cade of Herrings

Cade. For our enemies shall faile before vs, inspired with the
spirit of putting down Kings and Princes. Command silence

But. Silence

Cade. My Father was a Mortimer

But. He was an honest man, and a good Bricklayer

Cade. My mother a Plantagenet

Butch. I knew her well, she was a Midwife

Cade. My wife descended of the Lacies

But. She was indeed a Pedlers daughter, & sold many Laces

Weauer. But now of late, not able to trauell with her furr'd Packe,
she washes buckes here at home

Cade. Therefore am I of an honorable house

But. I by my faith, the field is honourable, and there was he borne,
vnder a hedge: for his Father had neuer a house but the Cage

Cade. Valiant I am

Weauer. A must needs, for beggery is valiant

Cade. I am able to endure much

But. No question of that: for I haue seene him whipt three Market
dayes together

Cade. I feare neither sword, nor fire

Wea. He neede not feare the sword, for his Coate is of proofe

But. But me thinks he should stand in feare of fire, being burnt
i'th hand for stealing of Sheepe

Cade. Be braue then, for your Captaine is Braue, and Vowes
Reformation. There shall be in England, seuen halfe peny Loaues sold
for a peny: the three hoop'd pot, shall haue ten hoopes, and I wil make
it Fellony to drink small Beere. All the Realme shall be in Common, and
in Cheapside shall my Palfrey go to grasse: and when I am King, as King
I will be

All. God saue your Maiesty

Cade. I thanke you good people. There shall bee no mony, all shall
eate and drinke on my score, and I will apparrell them all in one
Liuery, that they may agree like Brothers, and worship me their Lord

But. The first thing we do, let's kill all the Lawyers

Cade. Nay, that I meane to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that
of the skin of an innocent Lambe should be made Parchment; that
Parchment being scribeld ore, should vndoe a man. Some say the Bee
stings, but I say, 'tis the Bees waxe: for I did but seale once to a
thing, and I was neuer mine owne man since. How now? Who's there?

Enter a Clearke.

Weauer. The Clearke of Chartam: hee can write and reade, and cast
accompt

Cade. O monstrous

Wea. We tooke him setting of boyes Copies

Cade. Here's a Villaine

Wea. Ha's a Booke in his pocket with red Letters in't   Cade. Nay
then he is a Coniurer

But. Nay, he can make Obligations, and write Court hand

Cade. I am sorry for't: The man is a proper man of mine Honour:
vnlesse I finde him guilty he shall not die. Come hither sirrah, I must
examine thee: What is thy name?

Clearke. Emanuell

But. They vse to writ it on the top of Letters: 'Twill go hard with
you

Cade. Let me alone: Dost thou vse to write thy name? Or hast thou a
marke to thy selfe, like a honest plain dealing man?

Clearke. Sir I thanke God, I haue bin so well brought vp, that I can
write my name

All. He hath confest: away with him: he's a Villaine and a Traitor

Cade. Away with him I say: Hang him with his Pen and Inke-horne
about his necke.

Exit one with the Clearke

Enter Michael.

Mich. Where's our Generall?

Cade. Heere I am thou particular fellow

Mich. Fly, fly, fly, Sir Humfrey Stafford and his brother are hard
by, with the Kings Forces

Cade. Stand villaine, stand, or Ile fell thee downe: he shall be
encountred with a man as good as himselfe. He is but a Knight, is a?

Mich. No

Cade. To equall him I will make my selfe a knight, presently; Rise
vp Sir Iohn Mortimer. Now haue at him. Enter Sir Humfrey Stafford, and
his Brother, with Drum and Soldiers.

Staf. Rebellious Hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, Mark'd for the
Gallowes: Lay your Weapons downe, Home to your Cottages: forsake this
Groome. The King is mercifull, if you reuolt

Bro. But angry, wrathfull, and inclin'd to blood, If you go forward:
therefore yeeld, or dye

Cade. As for these silken-coated slaues I passe not, It is to you
good people, that I speake,

Ouer whom (in time to come) I hope to raigne: For I am rightfull heyre
vnto the Crowne

Staff. Villaine, thy Father was a Playsterer, And thou thy selfe a
Sheareman, art thou not?   Cade. And Adam was a Gardiner

Bro. And what of that?

Cade. Marry, this Edmund Mortimer Earle of March, married the Duke of
Clarence daughter, did he not?   Staf. I sir

Cade. By her he had two children at one birth

Bro. That's false

Cade. I, there's the question; But I say, 'tis true: The elder of
them being put to nurse,

Was by a begger-woman stolne away,

And ignorant of his birth and parentage,

Became a Bricklayer, when he came to age. His sonne am I, deny it if
you can

But. Nay, 'tis too true, therefore he shall be King

Wea. Sir, he made a Chimney in my Fathers house, & the brickes are
aliue at this day to testifie it: therefore deny it not

Staf. And will you credit this base Drudges Wordes, that speakes he
knowes not what

All. I marry will we: therefore get ye gone

Bro. Iacke Cade, the D[uke]. of York hath taught you this

Cade. He lyes, for I inuented it my selfe. Go too Sirrah, tell the
King from me, that for his Fathers sake Henry the fift, (in whose time,
boyes went to Span-counter for French Crownes) I am content he shall
raigne, but Ile be Protector ouer him

Butcher. And furthermore, wee'l haue the Lord Sayes head, for
selling the Dukedome of Maine

Cade And good reason: for thereby is England main'd And faine to go
with a staffe, but that my puissance holds it vp. Fellow-Kings, I tell
you, that that Lord Say hath gelded the Commonwealth, and made it an
Eunuch: & more then that, he can speake French, and therefore hee is a
Traitor

Staf. O grosse and miserable ignorance

Cade. Nay answer if you can: The Frenchmen are our enemies: go too
then, I ask but this: Can he that speaks with the tongue of an enemy,
be a good Councellour, or no?

All. No, no, and therefore wee'l haue his head

Bro. Well, seeing gentle words will not preuayle, Assaile them with
the Army of the King

Staf. Herald away, and throughout euery Towne, Proclaime them
Traitors that are vp with Cade, That those which flye before the
battell ends, May euen in their Wiues and Childrens sight, Be hang'd vp
for example at their doores: And you that be the Kings Friends follow
me. Enter.

Cade. And you that loue the Commons, follow me: Now shew your selues
men, 'tis for Liberty. We will not leaue one Lord, one Gentleman: Spare
none, but such as go in clouted shooen, For they are thrifty honest
men, and such As would (but that they dare not) take our parts

But. They are all in order, and march toward vs

Cade. But then are we in order, when we are most out of order. Come,
march forward.

Alarums to the fight, wherein both the Staffords are slaine. Enter
Cade

and the rest.

Cade. Where's Dicke, the Butcher of Ashford?   But. Heere sir

Cade. They fell before thee like Sheepe and Oxen, & thou behaued'st
thy selfe, as if thou hadst beene in thine owne Slaughter-house:
Therfore thus will I reward thee, the Lent shall bee as long againe as
it is, and thou shalt haue a License to kill for a hundred lacking one

But. I desire no more

Cade. And to speake truth, thou deseru'st no lesse. This Monument of
the victory will I beare, and the bodies shall be dragg'd at my horse
heeles, till I do come to London, where we will haue the Maiors sword
born before vs

But. If we meane to thriue, and do good, breake open the Gaoles, and
let out the Prisoners

Cade. Feare not that I warrant thee. Come, let's march towards
London.

Exeunt.

Enter the King with a Supplication, and the Queene with Suffolkes
head,

the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Say.

Queene. Oft haue I heard that greefe softens the mind, And makes it
fearefull and degenerate,

Thinke therefore on reuenge, and cease to weepe. But who can cease to
weepe, and looke on this. Heere may his head lye on my throbbing brest:
But where's the body that I should imbrace?   Buc. What answer makes
your Grace to the Rebells Supplication?

King. Ile send some holy Bishop to intreat: For God forbid, so many
simple soules

Should perish by the Sword. And I my selfe, Rather then bloody Warre
shall cut them short, Will parley with Iacke Cade their Generall. But
stay, Ile read it ouer once againe

Qu. Ah barbarous villaines: Hath this louely face, Rul'd like a
wandering Plannet ouer me,

And could it not inforce them to relent,

That were vnworthy to behold the same

King. Lord Say, Iacke Cade hath sworne to haue thy head

Say. I, but I hope your Highnesse shall haue his

King. How now Madam?

Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolkes death? I feare me (Loue) if
that I had beene dead, Thou would'st not haue mourn'd so much for me

Qu. No my Loue, I should not mourne, but dye for thee.

Enter a Messenger.

King. How now? What newes? Why com'st thou in such haste?

Mes. The Rebels are in Southwarke: Fly my Lord: Iacke Cade proclaimes
himselfe Lord Mortimer, Descended from the Duke of Clarence house, And
calles your Grace Vsurper, openly,

And vowes to Crowne himselfe in Westminster. His Army is a ragged
multitude

Of Hindes and Pezants, rude and mercilesse: Sir Humfrey Stafford, and
his Brothers death, Hath giuen them heart and courage to proceede: All
Schollers, Lawyers, Courtiers, Gentlemen, They call false
Catterpillers, and intend their death

Kin. Oh gracelesse men: they know not what they do

Buck. My gracious Lord, retire to Killingworth, Vntill a power be
rais'd to put them downe

Qu. Ah were the Duke of Suffolke now aliue, These Kentish Rebels
would be soone appeas'd

King. Lord Say, the Traitors hateth thee, Therefore away with vs to
Killingworth

Say. So might your Graces person be in danger. The sight of me is
odious in their eyes:

And therefore in this Citty will I stay,

And liue alone as secret as I may.

Enter another Messenger.

Mess. Iacke Cade hath gotten London-bridge. The Citizens flye and
forsake their houses: The Rascall people, thirsting after prey, Ioyne
with the Traitor, and they ioyntly sweare To spoyle the City, and your
Royall Court

Buc. Then linger not my Lord, away, take horse

King. Come Margaret, God our hope will succor vs

Qu. My hope is gone, now Suffolke is deceast

King. Farewell my Lord, trust not the Kentish Rebels   Buc. Trust no
body for feare you betraid

Say. The trust I haue, is in mine innocence, And therefore am I bold
and resolute.

Exeunt.

Enter Lord Scales vpon the Tower walking. Then enters two or three

Citizens below.

Scales. How now? Is Iacke Cade slaine?

1.Cit. No my Lord, nor likely to be slaine: For they haue wonne the
Bridge,

Killing all those that withstand them:

The L[ord]. Maior craues ayd of your Honor from the Tower To defend the
City from the Rebels

Scales. Such ayd as I can spare you shall command, But I am troubled
heere with them my selfe, The Rebels haue assay'd to win the Tower. But
get you to Smithfield, and gather head, And thither I will send you
Mathew Goffe. Fight for your King, your Countrey, and your Liues, And
so farwell, for I must hence againe.

Exeunt.

Enter Iacke Cade and the rest, and strikes his staffe on London stone.

Cade. Now is Mortimer Lord of this City, And heere sitting vpon
London Stone,

I charge and command, that of the Cities cost The pissing Conduit run
nothing but Clarret Wine This first yeare of our raigne.

And now henceforward it shall be Treason for any, That calles me other
then Lord Mortimer.

Enter a Soldier running.

Soul. Iacke Cade, Iacke Cade

Cade. Knocke him downe there.

They kill him.

But. If this Fellow be wise, hee'l neuer call yee Iacke Cade more, I
thinke he hath a very faire warning

Dicke. My Lord, there's an Army gathered together in Smithfield

Cade. Come, then let's go fight with them: But first, go and set
London Bridge on fire, And if you can, burne downe the Tower too. Come,
let's away.

Exeunt. omnes.

Alarums. Mathew Goffe is slain, and all the rest. Then enter Iacke
Cade,

with his Company.

Cade. So sirs: now go some and pull down the Sauoy: Others to'th
Innes of Court, downe with them all

But. I haue a suite vnto your Lordship

Cade. Bee it a Lordshippe, thou shalt haue it for that word

But. Onely that the Lawes of England may come out of your mouth

Iohn. Masse 'twill be sore Law then, for he was thrust in the mouth
with a Speare, and 'tis not whole yet

Smith. Nay Iohn, it wil be stinking Law, for his breath stinkes with
eating toasted cheese

Cade. I haue thought vpon it, it shall bee so. Away, burne all the
Records of the Realme, my mouth shall be the Parliament of England

Iohn. Then we are like to haue biting Statutes Vnlesse his teeth be
pull'd out

Cade. And hence-forward all things shall be in Common. Enter a
Messenger.

Mes. My Lord, a prize, a prize, heeres the Lord Say, which sold the
Townes in France. He that made vs pay one and twenty Fifteenes, and one
shilling to the pound, the last Subsidie.

Enter George, with the Lord Say.

Cade. Well, hee shall be beheaded for it ten times: Ah thou Say, thou
Surge, nay thou Buckram Lord, now art thou within point-blanke of our
Iurisdiction Regall. What canst thou answer to my Maiesty, for giuing
vp of Normandie vnto Mounsieur Basimecu, the Dolphine of France? Be it
knowne vnto thee by these presence, euen the presence of Lord Mortimer,
that I am the Beesome that must sweepe the Court cleane of such filth
as thou art: Thou hast most traiterously corrupted the youth of the
Realme, in erecting a Grammar Schoole: and whereas before, our
Fore-fathers had no other Bookes but the Score and the Tally, thou hast
caused printing to be vs'd, and contrary to the King, his Crowne, and
Dignity, thou hast built a Paper-Mill. It will be prooued to thy Face,
that thou hast men about thee, that vsually talke of a Nowne and a
Verbe, and such abhominable wordes, as no Christian eare can endure to
heare. Thou hast appointed Iustices of Peace, to call poore men before
them, about matters they were not able to answer. Moreouer, thou hast
put them in prison, and because they could not reade, thou hast hang'd
them, when (indeede) onely for that cause they haue beene most worthy
to liue. Thou dost ride in a foot-cloth, dost thou not?   Say. What of
that?

Cade. Marry, thou ought'st not to let thy horse weare a Cloake, when
honester men then thou go in their Hose and Doublets

Dicke. And worke in their shirt to, as my selfe for example, that am
a butcher

Say. You men of Kent

Dic. What say you of Kent

Say. Nothing but this: 'Tis bona terra, mala gens

Cade. Away with him, away with him, he speaks Latine

Say. Heare me but speake, and beare mee wher'e you will:

Kent, in the Commentaries Csar writ,

Is term'd the ciuel'st place of all this Isle: Sweet is the Country,
because full of Riches, The People Liberall, Valiant, Actiue, Wealthy,
Which makes me hope you are not void of pitty. I sold not Maine, I lost
not Normandie,

Yet to recouer them would loose my life:

Iustice with fauour haue I alwayes done,

Prayres and Teares haue mou'd me, Gifts could neuer. When haue I ought
exacted at your hands?

Kent to maintaine, the King, the Realme and you, Large gifts haue I
bestow'd on learned Clearkes, Because my Booke preferr'd me to the
King. And seeing Ignorance is the curse of God, Knowledge the Wing
wherewith we flye to heauen. Vnlesse you be possest with diuellish
spirits, You cannot but forbeare to murther me:

This Tongue hath parlied vnto Forraigne Kings For your behoofe

Cade. Tut, when struck'st thou one blow in the field?   Say. Great
men haue reaching hands: oft haue I struck Those that I neuer saw, and
strucke them dead

Geo. O monstrous Coward! What, to come behinde Folkes?

Say. These cheekes are pale for watching for your good   Cade. Giue
him a box o'th' eare, and that wil make 'em red againe

Say. Long sitting to determine poore mens causes, Hath made me full
of sicknesse and diseases

Cade. Ye shall haue a hempen Candle then, & the help of hatchet

Dicke. Why dost thou quiuer man?

Say. The Palsie, and not feare prouokes me

Cade. Nay, he noddes at vs, as who should say, Ile be euen with you.
Ile see if his head will stand steddier on a pole, or no: Take him
away, and behead him

Say. Tell me: wherein haue I offended most? Haue I affected wealth,
or honor? Speake. Are my Chests fill'd vp with extorted Gold? Is my
Apparrell sumptuous to behold?

Whom haue I iniur'd, that ye seeke my death? These hands are free from
guiltlesse bloodshedding, This breast from harbouring foule deceitfull
thoughts. O let me liue

Cade. I feele remorse in my selfe with his words: but Ile bridle it:
he shall dye, and it bee but for pleading so well for his life. Away
with him, he ha's a Familiar vnder his Tongue, he speakes not a Gods
name. Goe, take him away I say, and strike off his head presently, and
then breake into his Sonne in Lawes house, Sir Iames Cromer, and strike
off his head, and bring them both vppon two poles hither

All. It shall be done

Say. Ah Countrimen: If when you make your prair's, God should be so
obdurate as your selues: How would it fare with your departed soules,
And therefore yet relent, and saue my life

Cade. Away with him, and do as I command ye: the proudest Peere in
the Realme, shall not weare a head on his shoulders, vnlesse he pay me
tribute: there shall not a maid be married, but she shall pay to me her
Maydenhead ere they haue it: Men shall hold of mee in Capite. And we
charge and command, that their wiues be as free as heart can wish, or
tongue can tell

Dicke. My Lord,

When shall we go to Cheapside, and take vp commodities vpon our
billes?

Cade. Marry presently

All. O braue.

Enter one with the heads.

Cade. But is not this brauer:

Let them kisse one another: For they lou'd well When they were aliue.
Now part them againe, Least they consult about the giuing vp

Of some more Townes in France. Soldiers,

Deferre the spoile of the Citie vntill night: For with these borne
before vs, in steed of Maces, Will we ride through the streets, & at
euery Corner Haue them kisse. Away.

Exit

Alarum, and Retreat. Enter againe Cade, and all his rabblement.

Cade. Vp Fish-streete, downe Saint Magnes corner, kill and knocke
downe, throw them into Thames:

Sound a parley.

What noise is this I heare?

Dare any be so bold to sound Retreat or Parley When I command them
kill?

Enter Buckingham, and old Clifford.

Buc. I heere they be, that dare and will disturb thee: Know Cade, we
come Ambassadors from the King Vnto the Commons, whom thou hast
misled,

And heere pronounce free pardon to them all, That will forsake thee,
and go home in peace

Clif. What say ye Countrimen, will ye relent And yeeld to mercy,
whil'st 'tis offered you, Or let a rabble leade you to your deaths. Who
loues the King, and will imbrace his pardon, Fling vp his cap, and say,
God saue his Maiesty. Who hateth him, and honors not his Father, Henry
the fift, that made all France to quake, Shake he his weapon at vs, and
passe by

All. God saue the King, God saue the King

Cade. What Buckingham and Clifford are ye so braue? And you base
Pezants, do ye beleeue him, will you needs be hang'd with your Pardons
about your neckes? Hath my sword therefore broke through London gates,
that you should leaue me at the White-heart in Southwarke. I thought ye
would neuer haue giuen out these Armes til you had recouered your
ancient Freedome. But you are all Recreants and Dastards, and delight
to liue in slauerie to the Nobility. Let them breake your backes with
burthens, take your houses ouer your heads, rauish your Wiues and
Daughters before your faces. For me, I will make shift for one, and so
Gods Cursse light vppon you all

All. Wee'l follow Cade,

Wee'l follow Cade

Clif. Is Cade the sonne of Henry the fift, That thus you do exclaime
you'l go with him. Will he conduct you through the heart of France, And
make the meanest of you Earles and Dukes? Alas, he hath no home, no
place to flye too: Nor knowes he how to liue, but by the spoile,
Vnlesse by robbing of your Friends, and vs. Wer't not a shame, that
whilst you liue at iarre, The fearfull French, whom you late vanquished
Should make a start ore-seas, and vanquish you? Me thinkes alreadie in
this ciuill broyle, I see them Lording it in London streets,

Crying Villiago vnto all they meete.

Better ten thousand base-borne Cades miscarry, Then you should stoope
vnto a Frenchmans mercy. To France, to France, and get what you haue
lost: Spare England, for it is your Natiue Coast: Henry hath mony, you
are strong and manly: God on our side, doubt not of Victorie

All. A Clifford, a Clifford,

Wee'l follow the King, and Clifford

Cade. Was euer Feather so lightly blowne too & fro, as this
multitude? The name of Henry the fift, hales them to an hundred
mischiefes, and makes them leaue mee desolate. I see them lay their
heades together to surprize me. My sword make way for me, for heere is
no staying: in despight of the diuels and hell, haue through the verie
middest of you, and heauens and honor be witnesse, that no want of
resolution in mee, but onely my Followers base and ignominious
treasons, makes me betake mee to my heeles.

Exit

Buck. What, is he fled? Go some and follow him, And he that brings
his head vnto the King, Shall haue a thousand Crownes for his reward.

Exeunt. some of them.

Follow me souldiers, wee'l deuise a meane, To reconcile you all vnto
the King.

Exeunt. omnes.

Sound Trumpets. Enter King, Queene, and Somerset on the Tarras.

King. Was euer King that ioy'd an earthly Throne, And could command
no more content then I? No sooner was I crept out of my Cradle,

But I was made a King, at nine months olde. Was neuer Subiect long'd to
be a King,

As I do long and wish to be a Subiect.

Enter Buckingham and Clifford.

Buc. Health and glad tydings to your Maiesty

Kin. Why Buckingham, is the Traitor Cade surpris'd? Or is he but
retir'd to make him strong?

Enter Multitudes with Halters about their Neckes

Clif. He is fled my Lord, and all his powers do yeeld, And humbly
thus with halters on their neckes, Expect your Highnesse doome of life,
or death

King. Then heauen set ope thy euerlasting gates, To entertaine my
vowes of thankes and praise. Souldiers, this day haue you redeem'd your
liues, And shew'd how well you loue your Prince & Countrey: Continue
still in this so good a minde,

And Henry though he be infortunate,

Assure your selues will neuer be vnkinde: And so with thankes, and
pardon to you all, I do dismisse you to your seuerall Countries

All. God saue the King, God saue the King. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Please it your Grace to be aduertised, The Duke of Yorke is
newly come from Ireland, And with a puissant and a mighty power

Of Gallow-glasses and stout Kernes,

Is marching hitherward in proud array,

And still proclaimeth as he comes along,

His Armes are onely to remoue from thee

The Duke of Somerset, whom he tearmes a Traitor

King. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and Yorke distrest,

Like to a Ship, that hauing scap'd a Tempest, Is straight way calme,
and boorded with a Pyrate. But now is Cade driuen backe, his men
dispierc'd, And now is Yorke in Armes, to second him. I pray thee
Buckingham go and meete him,

And aske him what's the reason of these Armes: Tell him, Ile send Duke
Edmund to the Tower, And Somerset we will commit thee thither, Vntill
his Army be dismist from him

Somerset. My Lord,

Ile yeelde my selfe to prison willingly,

Or vnto death, to do my Countrey good

King. In any case, be not to rough in termes, For he is fierce, and
cannot brooke hard Language

Buc. I will my Lord, and doubt not so to deale, As all things shall
redound vnto your good

King. Come wife, let's in, and learne to gouern better, For yet may
England curse my wretched raigne.

Flourish. Exeunt.

Enter Cade.

Cade. Fye on Ambitions: fie on my selfe, that haue a sword, and yet
am ready to famish. These fiue daies haue I hid me in these Woods, and
durst not peepe out, for all the Country is laid for me: but now am I
so hungry, that if I might haue a Lease of my life for a thousand
yeares, I could stay no longer. Wherefore on a Bricke wall haue I
climb'd into this Garden, to see if I can eate Grasse, or picke a
Sallet another while, which is not amisse to coole a mans stomacke this
hot weather: and I think this word Sallet was borne to do me good: for
many a time but for a Sallet, my brain-pan had bene cleft with a brown
Bill; and many a time when I haue beene dry, & brauely marching, it
hath seru'd me insteede of a quart pot to drinke in: and now the word
Sallet must serue me to feed on. Enter Iden.

Iden. Lord, who would liue turmoyled in the Court, And may enioy such
quiet walkes as these? This small inheritance my Father left me,
Contenteth me, and worth a Monarchy.

I seeke not to waxe great by others warning, Or gather wealth I care
not with what enuy: Sufficeth, that I haue maintaines my state, And
sends the poore well pleased from my gate

Cade. Heere's the Lord of the soile come to seize me for a stray,
for entering his Fee-simple without leaue. A Villaine, thou wilt betray
me, and get a 1000. Crownes of the King by carrying my head to him, but
Ile make thee eate Iron like an Ostridge, and swallow my Sword like a
great pin ere thou and I part

Iden. Why rude Companion, whatsoere thou be, I know thee not, why
then should I betray thee? Is't not enough to breake into my Garden,
And like a Theefe to come to rob my grounds: Climbing my walles
inspight of me the Owner, But thou wilt braue me with these sawcie
termes?   Cade. Braue thee? I by the best blood that euer was broach'd,
and beard thee to. Looke on mee well, I haue eate no meate these fiue
dayes, yet come thou and thy fiue men, and if I doe not leaue you all
as dead as a doore naile, I pray God I may neuer eate grasse more

Iden. Nay, it shall nere be said, while England stands, That
Alexander Iden an Esquire of Kent,

Tooke oddes to combate a poore famisht man. Oppose thy stedfast gazing
eyes to mine,

See if thou canst out-face me with thy lookes: Set limbe to limbe, and
thou art farre the lesser: Thy hand is but a finger to my fist,

Thy legge a sticke compared with this Truncheon, My foote shall fight
with all the strength thou hast, And if mine arme be heaued in the
Ayre,

Thy graue is digg'd already in the earth: As for words, whose
greatnesse answer's words, Let this my sword report what speech
forbeares

Cade. By my Valour: the most compleate Champion that euer I heard.
Steele, if thou turne the edge, or cut not out the burly bon'd Clowne
in chines of Beefe, ere thou sleepe in thy Sheath, I beseech Ioue on my
knees thou mayst be turn'd to Hobnailes.

Heere they Fight.

O I am slaine, Famine and no other hath slaine me, let ten thousand
diuelles come against me, and giue me but the ten meales I haue lost,
and I'de defie them all. Wither Garden, and be henceforth a burying
place to all that do dwell in this house, because the vnconquered soule
of Cade is fled

Iden. Is't Cade that I haue slain, that monstrous traitor? Sword, I
will hallow thee for this thy deede, And hang thee o're my Tombe, when
I am dead. Ne're shall this blood be wiped from thy point, But thou
shalt weare it as a Heralds coate, To emblaze the Honor that thy Master
got

Cade. Iden farewell, and be proud of thy victory: Tell Kent from me,
she hath lost her best man, and exhort all the World to be Cowards: For
I that neuer feared any, am vanquished by Famine, not by Valour.

Dyes.

Id. How much thou wrong'st me, heauen be my iudge; Die damned Wretch,
the curse of her that bare thee: And as I thrust thy body in with my
sword, So wish I, I might thrust thy soule to hell. Hence will I dragge
thee headlong by the heeles Vnto a dunghill, which shall be thy graue,
And there cut off thy most vngracious head, Which I will beare in
triumph to the King, Leauing thy trunke for Crowes to feed vpon.
Enter.

Enter Yorke, and his Army of Irish, with Drum and Colours.

Yor. From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right, And plucke the
Crowne from feeble Henries head. Ring Belles alowd, burne Bonfires
cleare and bright To entertaine great Englands lawfull King. Ah Sancta
Maiestas! who would not buy thee deere? Let them obey, that knowes not
how to Rule. This hand was made to handle nought but Gold. I cannot
giue due action to my words,

Except a Sword or Scepter ballance it.

A Scepter shall it haue, haue I a soule,

On which Ile tosse the Fleure-de-Luce of France. Enter Buckingham.

Whom haue we heere? Buckingham to disturbe me? The king hath sent him
sure: I must dissemble

Buc. Yorke, if thou meanest wel, I greet thee well

Yor. Humfrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting. Art thou a
Messenger, or come of pleasure

Buc. A Messenger from Henry, our dread Liege, To know the reason of
these Armes in peace. Or why, thou being a Subiect, as I am,

Against thy Oath, and true Allegeance sworne, Should raise so great a
power without his leaue? Or dare to bring thy Force so neere the Court?
Yor. Scarse can I speake, my Choller is so great. Oh I could hew vp
Rockes, and fight with Flint, I am so angry at these abiect tearmes.

And now like Aiax Telamonius,

On Sheepe or Oxen could I spend my furie. I am farre better borne then
is the king: More like a King, more Kingly in my thoughts. But I must
make faire weather yet a while, Till Henry be more weake, and I more
strong. Buckingham, I prethee pardon me,

That I haue giuen no answer all this while: My minde was troubled with
deepe Melancholly. The cause why I haue brought this Armie hither, Is
to remoue proud Somerset from the King, Seditious to his Grace, and to
the State

Buc. That is too much presumption on thy part: But if thy Armes be
to no other end,

The King hath yeelded vnto thy demand:

The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower

Yorke. Vpon thine Honor is he Prisoner?   Buck. Vpon mine Honor he
is Prisoner

Yorke. Then Buckingham I do dismisse my Powres. Souldiers, I thanke
you all: disperse your selues: Meet me to morrow in S[aint]. Georges
Field, You shall haue pay, and euery thing you wish. And let my
Soueraigne, vertuous Henry,

Command my eldest sonne, nay all my sonnes, As pledges of my Fealtie
and Loue,

Ile send them all as willing as I liue:

Lands, Goods, Horse, Armor, any thing I haue Is his to vse, so Somerset
may die

Buc. Yorke, I commend this kinde submission, We twaine will go into
his Highnesse Tent. Enter King and Attendants.

King. Buckingham, doth Yorke intend no harme to vs That thus he
marcheth with thee arme in arme?   Yorke. In all submission and
humility,

Yorke doth present himselfe vnto your Highnesse

K. Then what intends these Forces thou dost bring?   Yor. To heaue
the Traitor Somerset from hence, And fight against that monstrous
Rebell Cade, Who since I heard to be discomfited.

Enter Iden with Cades head.

Iden. If one so rude, and of so meane condition May passe into the
presence of a King:

Loe, I present your Grace a Traitors head, The head of Cade, whom I in
combat slew

King. The head of Cade? Great God, how iust art thou? Oh let me view
his Visage being dead,

That liuing wrought me such exceeding trouble. Tell me my Friend, art
thou the man that slew him?   Iden. I was, an't like your Maiesty

King. How art thou call'd? And what is thy degree?   Iden. Alexander
Iden, that's my name,

A poore Esquire of Kent, that loues his King

Buc. So please it you my Lord, 'twere not amisse He were created
Knight for his good seruice

King. Iden, kneele downe, rise vp a Knight: We giue thee for reward
a thousand Markes, And will, that thou henceforth attend on vs

Iden. May Iden liue to merit such a bountie, And neuer liue but true
vnto his Liege.

Enter Queene and Somerset.

K. See Buckingham, Somerset comes with th' Queene, Go bid her hide
him quickly from the Duke

Qu. For thousand Yorkes he shall not hide his head, But boldly
stand, and front him to his face

Yor. How now? is Somerset at libertie? Then Yorke vnloose thy long
imprisoned thoughts, And let thy tongue be equall with thy heart. Shall
I endure the sight of Somerset?

False King, why hast thou broken faith with me, Knowing how hardly I
can brooke abuse?

King did I call thee? No: thou art not King: Not fit to gouerne and
rule multitudes,

Which dar'st not, no nor canst not rule a Traitor. That Head of thine
doth not become a Crowne: Thy Hand is made to graspe a Palmers staffe,
And not to grace an awefull Princely Scepter. That Gold, must round
engirt these browes of mine, Whose Smile and Frowne, like to Achilles
Speare Is able with the change, to kill and cure. Heere is hand to hold
a Scepter vp,

And with the same to acte controlling Lawes: Giue place: by heauen thou
shalt rule no more O're him, whom heauen created for thy Ruler

Som. O monstrous Traitor! I arrest thee Yorke Of Capitall Treason
'gainst the King and Crowne: Obey audacious Traitor, kneele for Grace

York. Wold'st haue me kneele? First let me ask of thee, If they can
brooke I bow a knee to man:

Sirrah, call in my sonne to be my bale:

I know ere they will haue me go to Ward,

They'l pawne their swords of my infranchisement

Qu. Call hither Clifford, bid him come amaine, To say, if that the
Bastard boyes of Yorke Shall be the Surety for their Traitor Father

Yorke. O blood-bespotted Neopolitan,

Out-cast of Naples, Englands bloody Scourge, The sonnes of Yorke, thy
betters in their birth, Shall be their Fathers baile, and bane to those
That for my Surety will refuse the Boyes. Enter Edward and Richard.

See where they come, Ile warrant they'l make it good. Enter Clifford.

Qu. And here comes Clifford to deny their baile

Clif. Health, and all happinesse to my Lord the King

Yor. I thanke thee Clifford: Say, what newes with thee? Nay, do not
fright vs with an angry looke: We are thy Soueraigne Clifford, kneele
againe; For thy mistaking so, We pardon thee

Clif. This is my King Yorke, I do not mistake, But thou mistakes me
much to thinke I do, To Bedlem with him, is the man growne mad

King. I Clifford, a Bedlem and ambitious humor Makes him oppose
himselfe against his King

Clif. He is a Traitor, let him to the Tower, And chop away that
factious pate of his

Qu. He is arrested, but will not obey: His sonnes (he sayes) shall
giue their words for him

Yor. Will you not Sonnes?

Edw. I Noble Father, if our words will serue

Rich. And if words will not, then our Weapons shal

Clif. Why what a brood of Traitors haue we heere?   Yorke. Looke in
a Glasse, and call thy Image so. I am thy King, and thou a false-heart
Traitor: Call hither to the stake my two braue Beares, That with the
very shaking of their Chaines, They may astonish these fell-lurking
Curres, Bid Salsbury and Warwicke come to me.

Enter the Earles of Warwicke, and Salisbury.

Clif. Are these thy Beares? Wee'l bate thy Bears to death, And
manacle the Berard in their Chaines,

If thou dar'st bring them to the bayting place

Rich. Oft haue I seene a hot ore-weening Curre, Run backe and bite,
because he was with-held, Who being suffer'd with the Beares fell paw,
Hath clapt his taile, betweene his legges and cride, And such a peece
of seruice will you do,

If you oppose your selues to match Lord Warwicke

Clif. Hence heape of wrath, foule indigested lumpe, As crooked in
thy manners, as thy shape

Yor. Nay we shall heate you thorowly anon

Clif. Take heede least by your heate you burne your selues:

King. Why Warwicke, hath thy knee forgot to bow? Old Salsbury, shame
to thy siluer haire,

Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sicke sonne, What wilt thou on thy
death-bed play the Ruffian? And seeke for sorrow with thy Spectacles?
Oh where is Faith? Oh, where is Loyalty?

If it be banisht from the frostie head,

Where shall it finde a harbour in the earth? Wilt thou go digge a graue
to finde out Warre, And shame thine honourable Age with blood? Why art
thou old, and want'st experience? Or wherefore doest abuse it, if thou
hast it? For shame in dutie bend thy knee to me,

That bowes vnto the graue with mickle age

Sal. My Lord, I haue considered with my selfe The Title of this most
renowned Duke,

And in my conscience, do repute his grace The rightfull heyre to
Englands Royall seate

King. Hast thou not sworne Allegeance vnto me?   Sal. I haue

Ki. Canst thou dispense with heauen for such an oath?   Sal. It is
great sinne, to sweare vnto a sinne: But greater sinne to keepe a
sinfull oath: Who can be bound by any solemne Vow

To do a murd'rous deede, to rob a man,

To force a spotlesse Virgins Chastitie,

To reaue the Orphan of his Patrimonie,

To wring the Widdow from her custom'd right, And haue no other reason
for this wrong,

But that he was bound by a solemne Oath?

Qu. A subtle Traitor needs no Sophister

King. Call Buckingham, and bid him arme himselfe

Yorke. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast, I am resolu'd
for death and dignitie

Old Clif. The first I warrant thee, if dreames proue true   War. You
were best to go to bed, and dreame againe, To keepe thee from the
Tempest of the field

Old Clif. I am resolu'd to beare a greater storme, Then any thou
canst coniure vp to day:

And that Ile write vpon thy Burgonet,

Might I but know thee by thy housed Badge

War. Now by my Fathers badge, old Neuils Crest, The rampant Beare
chain'd to the ragged staffe, This day Ile weare aloft my Burgonet,

As on a Mountaine top, the Cedar shewes,

That keepes his leaues inspight of any storme, Euen to affright thee
with the view thereof

Old Clif. And from thy Burgonet Ile rend thy Beare, And tread it
vnder foot with all contempt, Despight the Bearard, that protects the
Beare

Yo.Clif. And so to Armes victorious Father, To quell the Rebels, and
their Complices

Rich. Fie, Charitie for shame, speake not in spight, For you shall
sup with Iesu Christ to night

Yo.Clif. Foule stygmaticke that's more then thou canst tell

Ric. If not in heauen, you'l surely sup in hell.

Exeunt.

Enter Warwicke.

War. Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwicke calles: And if thou dost
not hide thee from the Beare, Now when the angrie Trumpet sounds
alarum, And dead mens cries do fill the emptie ayre, Clifford I say,
come forth and fight with me, Proud Northerne Lord, Clifford of
Cumberland, Warwicke is hoarse with calling thee to armes. Enter
Yorke.

War. How now my Noble Lord? What all a-foot

Yor. The deadly handed Clifford slew my Steed: But match to match I
haue encountred him, And made a prey for Carrion Kytes and Crowes Euen
of the bonnie beast he loued so well. Enter Clifford.

War. Of one or both of vs the time is come

Yor. Hold Warwick: seek thee out some other chace For I my selfe
must hunt this Deere to death

War. Then nobly Yorke, 'tis for a Crown thou fightst: As I intend
Clifford to thriue to day,

It greeues my soule to leaue thee vnassail'd.

Exit War.

Clif. What seest thou in me Yorke?

Why dost thou pause?

Yorke. With thy braue bearing should I be in loue, But that thou art
so fast mine enemie

Clif. Nor should thy prowesse want praise & esteeme, But that 'tis
shewne ignobly, and in Treason

Yorke. So let it helpe me now against thy sword, As I in iustice,
and true right expresse it

Clif. My soule and bodie on the action both

Yor. A dreadfull lay, addresse thee instantly

Clif. La fin Corrone les eumenes

Yor. Thus Warre hath giuen thee peace, for y art still, Peace with
his soule, heauen if it be thy will. Enter yong Clifford.

Clif. Shame and Confusion all is on the rout, Feare frames disorder,
and disorder wounds Where it should guard. O Warre, thou sonne of hell,
Whom angry heauens do make their minister, Throw in the frozen bosomes
of our part,

Hot Coales of Vengeance. Let no Souldier flye. He that is truly
dedicate to Warre,

Hath no selfe-loue: nor he that loues himselfe, Hath not essentially,
but by circumstance The name of Valour. O let the vile world end, And
the premised Flames of the Last day,

Knit earth and heauen together.

Now let the generall Trumpet blow his blast, Particularities, and
pettie sounds

To cease. Was't thou ordain'd (deere Father) To loose thy youth in
peace, and to atcheeue The Siluer Liuery of aduised Age,

And in thy Reuerence, and thy Chaire-dayes, thus To die in Ruffian
battell? Euen at this sight, My heart is turn'd to stone: and while
'tis mine, It shall be stony. Yorke, not our old men spares: No more
will I their Babes, Teares Virginall, Shall be to me, euen as the Dew
to Fire,

And Beautie, that the Tyrant oft reclaimes, Shall to my flaming wrath,
be Oyle and Flax: Henceforth, I will not haue to do with pitty. Meet I
an infant of the house of Yorke,

Into as many gobbits will I cut it

As wilde Medea yong Absirtis did.

In cruelty, will I seeke out my Fame.

Come thou new ruine of olde Cliffords house: As did Aeneas old Anchyses
beare,

So beare I thee vpon my manly shoulders:

But then, Aeneas bare a liuing loade;

Nothing so heauy as these woes of mine.

Enter Richard, and Somerset to fight.

Rich. So lye thou there:

For vnderneath an Ale-house paltry signe, The Castle in S[aint].
Albons, Somerset

Hath made the Wizard famous in his death: Sword, hold thy temper;
Heart, be wrathfull still: Priests pray for enemies, but Princes kill.

Fight. Excursions.

Enter King, Queene, and others.

Qu. Away my Lord, you are slow, for shame away

King. Can we outrun the Heauens? Good Margaret stay

Qu. What are you made of? You'l nor fight nor fly: Now is it
manhood, wisedome, and defence, To giue the enemy way, and to secure
vs

By what we can, which can no more but flye.

Alarum a farre off.

If you be tane, we then should see the bottome Of all our Fortunes: but
if we haply scape, (As well we may, if not through your neglect) We
shall to London get, where you are lou'd, And where this breach now in
our Fortunes made May readily be stopt.

Enter Clifford.

Clif. But that my hearts on future mischeefe set, I would speake
blasphemy ere bid you flye: But flye you must: Vncureable discomfite

Reignes in the hearts of all our present parts. Away for your releefe,
and we will liue

To see their day, and them our Fortune giue. Away my Lord, away.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Retreat. Enter Yorke, Richard, Warwicke, and Soldiers, with
Drum &

Colours.

Yorke. Of Salsbury, who can report of him, That Winter Lyon, who in
rage forgets

Aged contusions, and all brush of Time:

And like a Gallant, in the brow of youth, Repaires him with Occasion.
This happy day Is not it selfe, nor haue we wonne one foot, If Salsbury
be lost

Rich. My Noble Father:

Three times to day I holpe him to his horse, Three times bestrid him:
Thrice I led him off, Perswaded him from any further act:

But still where danger was, still there I met him, And like rich
hangings in a homely house, So was his Will, in his old feeble body,

But Noble as he is, looke where he comes. Enter Salisbury.

Sal. Now by my Sword, well hast thou fought to day: By'th' Masse so
did we all. I thanke you Richard. God knowes how long it is I haue to
liue: And it hath pleas'd him that three times to day You haue defended
me from imminent death. Well Lords, we haue not got that which we haue,
'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, Being opposites of such
repayring Nature

Yorke. I know our safety is to follow them, For (as I heare) the
King is fled to London, To call a present Court of Parliament:

Let vs pursue him ere the Writs go forth. What sayes Lord Warwicke,
shall we after them?   War. After them: nay before them if we can: Now
by my hand (Lords) 'twas a glorious day. Saint Albons battell wonne by
famous Yorke, Shall be eterniz'd in all Age to come.

Sound Drumme and Trumpets, and to London all, And more such dayes as
these, to vs befall.

Exeunt.



FINIS. The second Part of Henry the Sixt, with the death of the Good
Duke

HVMFREY.



The third Part of Henry the Sixt

with the death of the Duke of Yorke

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Alarum.

Enter Plantagenet, Edward, Richard, Norfolke, Mountague, Warwicke, and

Souldiers.

Warwicke. I Wonder how the King escap'd our hands?   Pl. While we
pursu'd the Horsmen of y North, He slyly stole away, and left his men:

Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland, Whose Warlike eares could
neuer brooke retreat, Chear'd vp the drouping Army, and himselfe. Lord
Clifford and Lord Stafford all a-brest Charg'd our maine Battailes
Front: and breaking in, Were by the Swords of common Souldiers slaine

Edw. Lord Staffords Father, Duke of Buckingham, Is either slaine or
wounded dangerous.

I cleft his Beauer with a down-right blow: That this is true (Father)
behold his blood

Mount. And Brother, here's the Earle of Wiltshires blood, Whom I
encountred as the Battels ioyn'd

Rich. Speake thou for me, and tell them what I did

Plan. Richard hath best deseru'd of all my sonnes: But is your Grace
dead, my Lord of Somerset?   Nor. Such hope haue all the line of Iohn
of Gaunt

Rich. Thus do I hope to shake King Henries head

Warw. And so doe I, victorious Prince of Yorke. Before I see thee
seated in that Throne,

Which now the House of Lancaster vsurpes, I vow by Heauen, these eyes
shall neuer close. This is the Pallace of the fearefull King, And this
the Regall Seat: possesse it Yorke, For this is thine, and not King
Henries Heires

Plant. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I will, For hither we haue
broken in by force

Norf. Wee'le all assist you: he that flyes, shall dye

Plant. Thankes gentle Norfolke, stay by me my Lords, And Souldiers
stay and lodge by me this Night.

They goe vp.

Warw. And when the King comes, offer him no violence, Vnlesse he
seeke to thrust you out perforce

Plant. The Queene this day here holds her Parliament, But little
thinkes we shall be of her counsaile, By words or blowes here let vs
winne our right

Rich. Arm'd as we are, let's stay within this House

Warw. The bloody Parliament shall this be call'd, Vnlesse
Plantagenet, Duke of Yorke, be King, And bashfull Henry depos'd, whose
Cowardize Hath made vs by-words to our enemies

Plant. Then leaue me not, my Lords be resolute, I meane to take
possession of my Right

Warw. Neither the King, nor he that loues him best, The prowdest hee
that holds vp Lancaster, Dares stirre a Wing, if Warwick shake his
Bells. Ile plant Plantagenet, root him vp who dares: Resolue thee
Richard, clayme the English Crowne.

Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland, Westmerland,
Exeter,

and the rest.

Henry. My Lords, looke where the sturdie Rebell sits, Euen in the
Chayre of State: belike he meanes, Backt by the power of Warwicke, that
false Peere, To aspire vnto the Crowne, and reigne as King. Earle of
Northumberland, he slew thy Father, And thine, Lord Clifford, & you
both haue vow'd reuenge On him, his sonnes, his fauorites, and his
friends

Northumb. If I be not, Heauens be reueng'd on me

Clifford. The hope thereof, makes Clifford mourne in Steele

Westm. What, shall we suffer this? lets pluck him down, My heart for
anger burnes, I cannot brooke it

Henry. Be patient, gentle Earle of Westmerland

Clifford. Patience is for Poultroones, such as he: He durst not sit
there, had your Father liu'd. My gracious Lord, here in the Parliament

Let vs assayle the Family of Yorke

North. Well hast thou spoken, Cousin be it so

Henry. Ah, know you not the Citie fauours them, And they haue
troupes of Souldiers at their beck?   Westm. But when the Duke is
slaine, they'le quickly flye

Henry. Farre be the thought of this from Henries heart, To make a
Shambles of the Parliament House. Cousin of Exeter, frownes, words, and
threats, Shall be the Warre that Henry meanes to vse. Thou factious
Duke of Yorke descend my Throne, And kneele for grace and mercie at my
feet, I am thy Soueraigne

Yorke. I am thine

Exet. For shame come downe, he made thee Duke of Yorke

Yorke. It was my Inheritance, as the Earledome was

Exet. Thy Father was a Traytor to the Crowne

Warw. Exeter thou art a Traytor to the Crowne, In following this
vsurping Henry

Clifford. Whom should hee follow, but his naturall King?

Warw. True Clifford, that's Richard Duke of Yorke

Henry. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my Throne?   Yorke. It
must and shall be so, content thy selfe

Warw. Be Duke of Lancaster, let him be King

Westm. He is both King, and Duke of Lancaster, And that the Lord of
Westmerland shall maintaine

Warw. And Warwick shall disproue it. You forget, That we are those
which chas'd you from the field, And slew your Fathers, and with
Colours spread Marcht through the Citie to the Pallace Gates

Northumb. Yes Warwicke, I remember it to my griefe, And by his
Soule, thou and thy House shall rue it

Westm. Plantagenet, of thee and these thy Sonnes, Thy Kinsmen, and
thy Friends, Ile haue more liues Then drops of bloud were in my Fathers
Veines

Cliff. Vrge it no more, lest that in stead of words, I send thee,
Warwicke, such a Messenger,

As shall reuenge his death, before I stirre

Warw. Poore Clifford, how I scorne his worthlesse Threats

Plant. Will you we shew our Title to the Crowne? If not, our Swords
shall pleade it in the field

Henry. What Title hast thou Traytor to the Crowne? My Father was as
thou art, Duke of Yorke, Thy Grandfather Roger Mortimer, Earle of
March. I am the Sonne of Henry the Fift,

Who made the Dolphin and the French to stoupe, And seiz'd vpon their
Townes and Prouinces

Warw. Talke not of France, sith thou hast lost it all

Henry. The Lord Protector lost it, and not I: When I was crown'd, I
was but nine moneths old

Rich. You are old enough now,

And yet me thinkes you loose:

Father teare the Crowne from the Vsurpers Head

Edward. Sweet Father doe so, set it on your Head

Mount. Good Brother,

As thou lou'st and honorest Armes,

Let's fight it out, and not stand cauilling thus

Richard. Sound Drummes and Trumpets, and the King will flye

Plant. Sonnes peace

Henry. Peace thou, and giue King Henry leaue to speake

Warw. Plantagenet shal speake first: Heare him Lords, And be you
silent and attentiue too,

For he that interrupts him, shall not liue

Hen. Think'st thou, that I will leaue my Kingly Throne, Wherein my
Grandsire and my Father sat?

No: first shall Warre vnpeople this my Realme; I, and their Colours
often borne in France, And now in England, to our hearts great sorrow,
Shall be my Winding-sheet. Why faint you Lords? My Title's good, and
better farre then his

Warw. Proue it Henry, and thou shalt be King

Hen. Henry the Fourth by Conquest got the Crowne

Plant. 'Twas by Rebellion against his King

Henry. I know not what to say, my Titles weake: Tell me, may not a
King adopt an Heire?

Plant. What then?

Henry. And if he may, then am I lawfull King: For Richard, in the
view of many Lords,

Resign'd the Crowne to Henry the Fourth,

Whose Heire my Father was, and I am his

Plant. He rose against him, being his Soueraigne, And made him to
resigne his Crowne perforce

Warw. Suppose, my Lords, he did it vnconstrayn'd, Thinke you 'twere
preiudiciall to his Crowne?   Exet. No: for he could not so resigne his
Crowne, But that the next Heire should succeed and reigne

Henry. Art thou against vs, Duke of Exeter?   Exet. His is the
right, and therefore pardon me

Plant. Why whisper you, my Lords, and answer not?   Exet. My
Conscience tells me he is lawfull King

Henry. All will reuolt from me, and turne to him

Northumb. Plantagenet, for all the Clayme thou lay'st, Thinke not,
that Henry shall be so depos'd

Warw. Depos'd he shall be, in despight of all

Northumb. Thou art deceiu'd:

'Tis not thy Southerne power

Of Essex, Norfolke, Suffolke, nor of Kent, Which makes thee thus
presumptuous and prowd, Can set the Duke vp in despight of me

Clifford. King Henry, be thy Title right or wrong, Lord Clifford
vowes to fight in thy defence: May that ground gape, and swallow me
aliue, Where I shall kneele to him that slew my Father

Henry. Oh Clifford, how thy words reuiue my heart

Plant. Henry of Lancaster, resigne thy Crowne: What mutter you, or
what conspire you Lords?   Warw. Doe right vnto this Princely Duke of
Yorke, Or I will fill the House with armed men,

And ouer the Chayre of State, where now he sits, Write vp his Title
with vsurping blood.

He stampes with his foot, and the Souldiers shew themselues.

Henry. My Lord of Warwick, heare but one word, Let me for this my
life time reigne as King

Plant. Confirme the Crowne to me and to mine Heires, And thou shalt
reigne in quiet while thou liu'st

Henry. I am content: Richard Plantagenet Enioy the Kingdome after my
decease

Clifford. What wrong is this vnto the Prince, your Sonne?

Warw. What good is this to England, and himselfe?   Westm. Base,
fearefull, and despayring Henry

Clifford. How hast thou iniur'd both thy selfe and vs?   Westm. I
cannot stay to heare these Articles

Northumb. Nor I

Clifford. Come Cousin, let vs tell the Queene these Newes

Westm. Farwell faint-hearted and degenerate King, In whose cold
blood no sparke of Honor bides

Northumb. Be thou a prey vnto the House of Yorke, And dye in Bands,
for this vnmanly deed

Cliff. In dreadfull Warre may'st thou be ouercome, Or liue in peace
abandon'd and despis'd

Warw. Turne this way Henry, and regard them not

Exeter. They seeke reuenge, and therefore will not yeeld?

Henry. Ah Exeter

Warw. Why should you sigh, my Lord?

Henry. Not for my selfe Lord Warwick, but my Sonne, Whom I
vnnaturally shall dis-inherite.

But be it as it may: I here entayle

The Crowne to thee and to thine Heires for euer, Conditionally, that
heere thou take an Oath, To cease this Ciuill Warre: and whil'st I
liue, To honor me as thy King, and Soueraigne:

And neyther by Treason nor Hostilitie,

To seeke to put me downe, and reigne thy selfe

Plant. This Oath I willingly take, and will performe

Warw. Long liue King Henry: Plantagenet embrace him

Henry. And long liue thou, and these thy forward Sonnes

Plant. Now Yorke and Lancaster are reconcil'd

Exet. Accurst be he that seekes to make them foes.

Senet. Here they come downe.

Plant. Farewell my gracious Lord, Ile to my Castle

Warw. And Ile keepe London with my Souldiers

Norf. And I to Norfolke with my followers

Mount. And I vnto the Sea, from whence I came

Henry. And I with griefe and sorrow to the Court. Enter the Queene.

Exeter. Heere comes the Queene,

Whose Lookes bewray her anger:

Ile steale away

Henry. Exeter so will I

Queene. Nay, goe not from me, I will follow thee

Henry. Be patient gentle Queene, and I will stay

Queene. Who can be patient in such extreames? Ah wretched man, would
I had dy'de a Maid? And neuer seene thee, neuer borne thee Sonne,
Seeing thou hast prou'd so vnnaturall a Father. Hath he deseru'd to
loose his Birth-right thus? Hadst thou but lou'd him halfe so well as
I, Or felt that paine which I did for him once, Or nourisht him, as I
did with my blood;

Thou would'st haue left thy dearest heart-blood there, Rather then haue
made that sauage Duke thine Heire, And dis-inherited thine onely Sonne

Prince. Father, you cannot dis-inherite me: If you be King, why
should not I succeede?   Henry. Pardon me Margaret, pardon me sweet
Sonne, The Earle of Warwick and the Duke enforc't me

Quee. Enforc't thee? Art thou King, and wilt be forc't? I shame to
heare thee speake: ah timorous Wretch, Thou hast vndone thy selfe, thy
Sonne, and me, And giu'n vnto the House of Yorke such head, As thou
shalt reigne but by their sufferance. To entayle him and his Heires
vnto the Crowne, What is it, but to make thy Sepulcher,

And creepe into it farre before thy time? Warwick is Chancelor, and the
Lord of Callice, Sterne Falconbridge commands the Narrow Seas, The Duke
is made Protector of the Realme, And yet shalt thou be safe? Such
safetie findes The trembling Lambe, inuironned with Wolues. Had I beene
there, which am a silly Woman, The Souldiers should haue toss'd me on
their Pikes, Before I would haue granted to that Act.

But thou preferr'st thy Life, before thine Honor. And seeing thou
do'st, I here diuorce my selfe, Both from thy Table Henry, and thy
Bed,

Vntill that Act of Parliament be repeal'd, Whereby my Sonne is
dis-inherited.

The Northerne Lords, that haue forsworne thy Colours, Will follow mine,
if once they see them spread: And spread they shall be, to thy foule
disgrace, And vtter ruine of the House of Yorke.

Thus doe I leaue thee: Come Sonne, let's away, Our Army is ready; come,
wee'le after them

Henry. Stay gentle Margaret, and heare me speake

Queene. Thou hast spoke too much already: get thee gone

Henry. Gentle Sonne Edward, thou wilt stay me?   Queene. I, to be
murther'd by his Enemies

Prince. When I returne with victorie to the field, Ile see your
Grace: till then, Ile follow her

Queene. Come Sonne away, we may not linger thus

Henry. Poore Queene,

How loue to me, and to her Sonne,

Hath made her breake out into termes of Rage. Reueng'd may she be on
that hatefull Duke, Whose haughtie spirit, winged with desire, Will
cost my Crowne, and like an emptie Eagle, Tyre on the flesh of me, and
of my Sonne. The losse of those three Lords torments my heart: Ile
write vnto them, and entreat them faire; Come Cousin, you shall be the
Messenger

Exet. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. Enter.

Flourish. Enter Richard, Edward, and Mountague.

Richard. Brother, though I bee youngest, giue mee leaue

Edward. No, I can better play the Orator

Mount. But I haue reasons strong and forceable. Enter the Duke of
Yorke.

Yorke. Why how now Sonnes, and Brother, at a strife? What is your
Quarrell? how began it first?   Edward. No Quarrell, but a slight
Contention

Yorke. About what?

Rich. About that which concernes your Grace and vs, The Crowne of
England, Father, which is yours

Yorke. Mine Boy? not till King Henry be dead

Richard. Your Right depends not on his life, or death

Edward. Now you are Heire, therefore enioy it now: By giuing the
House of Lancaster leaue to breathe, It will out-runne you, Father, in
the end

Yorke. I tooke an Oath, that hee should quietly reigne

Edward. But for a Kingdome any Oath may be broken: I would breake a
thousand Oathes, to reigne one yeere

Richard. No: God forbid your Grace should be forsworne

Yorke. I shall be, if I clayme by open Warre

Richard. Ile proue the contrary, if you'le heare mee speake

Yorke. Thou canst not, Sonne: it is impossible

Richard. An Oath is of no moment, being not tooke Before a true and
lawfull Magistrate,

That hath authoritie ouer him that sweares. Henry had none, but did
vsurpe the place. Then seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, Your
Oath, my Lord, is vaine and friuolous. Therefore to Armes: and Father
doe but thinke, How sweet a thing it is to weare a Crowne, Within whose
Circuit is Elizium,

And all that Poets faine of Blisse and Ioy. Why doe we linger thus? I
cannot rest,

Vntill the White Rose that I weare, be dy'de Euen in the luke-warme
blood of Henries heart

Yorke. Richard ynough: I will be King, or dye. Brother, thou shalt
to London presently,

And whet on Warwick to this Enterprise.

Thou Richard shalt to the Duke of Norfolke, And tell him priuily of our
intent.

You Edward shall vnto my Lord Cobham,

With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise. In them I trust: for they
are Souldiors,

Wittie, courteous, liberall, full of spirit. While you are thus
imploy'd, what resteth more? But that I seeke occasion how to rise,

And yet the King not priuie to my Drift,

Nor any of the House of Lancaster.

Enter Gabriel.

But stay, what Newes? Why comm'st thou in such poste?

Gabriel. The Queene,

With all the Northerne Earles and Lords,

Intend here to besiege you in your Castle. She is hard by, with twentie
thousand men: And therefore fortifie your Hold, my Lord

Yorke. I, with my Sword.

What? think'st thou, that we feare them?

Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me, My Brother Mountague shall
poste to London. Let Noble Warwicke, Cobham, and the rest, Whom we haue
left Protectors of the King, With powrefull Pollicie strengthen
themselues, And trust not simple Henry, nor his Oathes

Mount. Brother, I goe: Ile winne them, feare it not. And thus most
humbly I doe take my leaue.

Exit Mountague.

Enter Mortimer, and his Brother.

York. Sir Iohn, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine Vnckles, You are come to
Sandall in a happie houre. The Armie of the Queene meane to besiege vs

Iohn. Shee shall not neede, wee'le meete her in the field

Yorke. What, with fiue thousand men?

Richard. I, with fiue hundred, Father, for a neede. A Woman's
generall: what should we feare?

A March afarre off.

Edward. I heare their Drummes:

Let's set our men in order,

And issue forth, and bid them Battaile straight

Yorke. Fiue men to twentie: though the oddes be great, I doubt not,
Vnckle, of our Victorie.

Many a Battaile haue I wonne in France,

When as the Enemie hath beene tenne to one: Why should I not now haue
the like successe?

Alarum. Exit.

Enter Rutland, and his Tutor.

Rutland. Ah, whither shall I flye, to scape their hands? Ah Tutor,
looke where bloody Clifford comes. Enter Clifford.

Clifford. Chaplaine away, thy Priesthood saues thy life. As for the
Brat of this accursed Duke,

Whose Father slew my Father, he shall dye

Tutor. And I, my Lord, will beare him company

Clifford. Souldiers, away with him

Tutor. Ah Clifford, murther not this innocent Child, Least thou be
hated both of God and Man.

Enter.

Clifford. How now? is he dead alreadie? Or is it feare, that makes
him close his eyes? Ile open them

Rutland. So looks the pent-vp Lyon o're the Wretch, That trembles
vnder his deuouring Pawes:

And so he walkes, insulting o're his Prey, And so he comes, to rend his
Limbes asunder. Ah gentle Clifford, kill me with thy Sword, And not
with such a cruell threatning Looke. Sweet Clifford heare me speake,
before I dye: I am too meane a subiect for thy Wrath,

Be thou reueng'd on men, and let me liue

Clifford. In vaine thou speak'st, poore Boy: My Fathers blood hath
stopt the passage

Where thy words should enter

Rutland. Then let my Fathers blood open it againe, He is a man, and
Clifford cope with him

Clifford. Had I thy Brethren here, their liues and thine Were not
reuenge sufficient for me:

No, if I digg'd vp thy fore-fathers Graues, And hung their rotten
Coffins vp in Chaynes, It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart.
The sight of any of the House of Yorke,

Is as a furie to torment my Soule:

And till I root out their accursed Line,

And leaue not one aliue, I liue in Hell.

Therefore-

Rutland. Oh let me pray, before I take my death: To thee I pray;
sweet Clifford pitty me

Clifford. Such pitty as my Rapiers point affords

Rutland. I neuer did thee harme: why wilt thou slay me?

Clifford. Thy Father hath

Rutland. But 'twas ere I was borne.

Thou hast one Sonne, for his sake pitty me, Least in reuenge thereof,
sith God is iust, He be as miserably slaine as I.

Ah, let me liue in Prison all my dayes,

And when I giue occasion of offence,

Then let me dye, for now thou hast no cause

Clifford. No cause? thy Father slew my Father: therefore dye

Rutland. Dij faciant laudis summa sit ista tu

Clifford. Plantagenet, I come Plantagenet: And this thy Sonnes blood
cleauing to my Blade, Shall rust vpon my Weapon, till thy blood
Congeal'd with this, doe make me wipe off both. Enter.

Alarum. Enter Richard, Duke of Yorke.

Yorke. The Army of the Queene hath got the field: My Vnckles both are
slaine, in rescuing me; And all my followers, to the eager foe

Turne back, and flye, like Ships before the Winde, Or Lambes pursu'd by
hunger-starued Wolues. My Sonnes, God knowes what hath bechanced them:
But this I know, they haue demean'd themselues Like men borne to
Renowne, by Life or Death. Three times did Richard make a Lane to me,
And thrice cry'de, Courage Father, fight it out: And full as oft came
Edward to my side,

With Purple Faulchion, painted to the Hilt, In blood of those that had
encountred him: And when the hardyest Warriors did retyre, Richard
cry'de, Charge, and giue no foot of ground, And cry'de, A Crowne, or
else a glorious Tombe, A Scepter, or an Earthly Sepulchre.

With this we charg'd againe: but out alas, We bodg'd againe, as I haue
seene a Swan

With bootlesse labour swimme against the Tyde, And spend her strength
with ouer-matching Waues.

A short Alarum within.

Ah hearke, the fatall followers doe pursue, And I am faint, and cannot
flye their furie: And were I strong, I would not shunne their furie,
The Sands are numbred, that makes vp my Life, Here must I stay, and
here my Life must end. Enter the Queene, Clifford, Northumberland, the
young Prince, and

Souldiers.

Come bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland, I dare your quenchlesse
furie to more rage: I am your Butt, and I abide your Shot

Northumb. Yeeld to our mercy, proud Plantagenet

Clifford. I, to such mercy, as his ruthlesse Arme With downe-right
payment, shew'd vnto my Father. Now Phton hath tumbled from his
Carre,

And made an Euening at the Noone-tide Prick

Yorke. My ashes, as the Phoenix, may bring forth A Bird, that will
reuenge vpon you all:

And in that hope, I throw mine eyes to Heauen, Scorning what ere you
can afflict me with. Why come you not? what, multitudes, and feare?
Cliff. So Cowards fight, when they can flye no further, So Doues doe
peck the Faulcons piercing Tallons, So desperate Theeues, all hopelesse
of their Liues, Breathe out Inuectiues 'gainst the Officers

Yorke. Oh Clifford, but bethinke thee once againe, And in thy
thought ore-run my former time: And if thou canst, for blushing, view
this face, And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with Cowardice, Whose
frowne hath made thee faint and flye ere this

Clifford. I will not bandie with thee word for word, But buckler
with thee blowes twice two for one

Queene. Hold valiant Clifford, for a thousand causes I would prolong
a while the Traytors Life: Wrath makes him deafe; speake thou
Northumberland

Northumb. Hold Clifford, doe not honor him so much, To prick thy
finger, though to wound his heart. What valour were it, when a Curre
doth grinne, For one to thrust his Hand betweene his Teeth, When he
might spurne him with his Foot away? It is Warres prize, to take all
Vantages, And tenne to one, is no impeach of Valour

Clifford. I, I, so striues the Woodcocke with the Gynne

Northumb. So doth the Connie struggle in the Net

York. So triumph Theeues vpon their conquer'd Booty, So True men
yeeld with Robbers, so o're-matcht

Northumb. What would your Grace haue done vnto him now?

Queene. Braue Warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, Come make him
stand vpon this Mole-hill here, That raught at Mountaines with
out-stretched Armes, Yet parted but the shadow with his Hand.

What, was it you that would be Englands King? Was't you that reuell'd
in our Parliament, And made a Preachment of your high Descent? Where
are your Messe of Sonnes, to back you now? The wanton Edward, and the
lustie George? And where's that valiant Crook-back Prodigie, Dickie,
your Boy, that with his grumbling voyce Was wont to cheare his Dad in
Mutinies?

Or with the rest, where is your Darling, Rutland? Looke Yorke, I
stayn'd this Napkin with the blood That valiant Clifford, with his
Rapiers point, Made issue from the Bosome of the Boy:

And if thine eyes can water for his death, I giue thee this to drie thy
Cheekes withall. Alas poore Yorke, but that I hate thee deadly, I
should lament thy miserable state.

I prythee grieue, to make me merry, Yorke. What, hath thy fierie heart
so parcht thine entrayles, That not a Teare can fall, for Rutlands
death? Why art thou patient, man? thou should'st be mad: And I, to make
thee mad, doe mock thee thus. Stampe, raue, and fret, that I may sing
and dance. Thou would'st be fee'd, I see, to make me sport: Yorke
cannot speake, vnlesse he weare a Crowne. A Crowne for Yorke; and
Lords, bow lowe to him: Hold you his hands, whilest I doe set it on. I
marry Sir, now lookes he like a King:

I, this is he that tooke King Henries Chaire, And this is he was his
adopted Heire.

But how is it, that great Plantagenet

Is crown'd so soone, and broke his solemne Oath? As I bethinke me, you
should not be King, Till our King Henry had shooke hands with Death.
And will you pale your head in Henries Glory, And rob his Temples of
the Diademe,

Now in his Life, against your holy Oath?

Oh 'tis a fault too too vnpardonable.

Off with the Crowne; and with the Crowne, his Head, And whilest we
breathe, take time to doe him dead

Clifford. That is my Office, for my Fathers sake

Queene. Nay stay, let's heare the Orizons hee makes

Yorke. Shee-Wolfe of France,

But worse then Wolues of France,

Whose Tongue more poysons then the Adders Tooth: How ill-beseeming is
it in thy Sex,

To triumph like an Amazonian Trull,

Vpon their Woes, whom Fortune captiuates? But that thy Face is
Vizard-like, vnchanging, Made impudent with vse of euill deedes.

I would assay, prowd Queene, to make thee blush. To tell thee whence
thou cam'st, of whom deriu'd, Were shame enough, to shame thee,

Wert thou not shamelesse.

Thy Father beares the type of King of Naples, Of both the Sicils, and
Ierusalem,

Yet not so wealthie as an English Yeoman. Hath that poore Monarch
taught thee to insult? It needes not, nor it bootes thee not, prowd
Queene, Vnlesse the Adage must be verify'd,

That Beggers mounted, runne their Horse to death. 'Tis Beautie that
doth oft make Women prowd, But God he knowes, thy share thereof is
small. 'Tis Vertue, that doth make them most admir'd, The contrary,
doth make thee wondred at.

'Tis Gouernment that makes them seeme Diuine, The want thereof, makes
thee abhominable. Thou art as opposite to euery good,

As the Antipodes are vnto vs,

Or as the South to the Septentrion.

Oh Tygres Heart, wrapt in a Womans Hide,

How could'st thou drayne the Life-blood of the Child, To bid the Father
wipe his eyes withall,

And yet be seene to beare a Womans face?

Women are soft, milde, pittifull, and flexible; Thou, sterne, obdurate,
flintie, rough, remorselesse. Bidst thou me rage? why now thou hast thy
wish. Would'st haue me weepe? why now thou hast thy will. For raging
Wind blowes vp incessant showers, And when the Rage allayes, the Raine
begins. These Teares are my sweet Rutlands Obsequies, And euery drop
cryes vengeance for his death, 'Gainst thee fell Clifford, and thee
false French-woman

Northumb. Beshrew me, but his passions moues me so, That hardly can
I check my eyes from Teares

Yorke. That Face of his,

The hungry Caniballs would not haue toucht, Would not haue stayn'd with
blood:

But you are more inhumane, more inexorable, Oh, tenne times more then
Tygers of Hyrcania. See, ruthlesse Queene, a haplesse Fathers Teares:
This Cloth thou dipd'st in blood of my sweet Boy, And I with Teares doe
wash the blood away. Keepe thou the Napkin, and goe boast of this, And
if thou tell'st the heauie storie right, Vpon my Soule, the hearers
will shed Teares: Yea, euen my Foes will shed fast-falling Teares, And
say, Alas, it was a pittious deed.

There, take the Crowne, and with the Crowne, my Curse, And in thy need,
such comfort come to thee, As now I reape at thy too cruell hand.

Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the World, My Soule to Heauen, my
Blood vpon your Heads

Northumb. Had he been slaughter-man to all my Kinne, I should not
for my Life but weepe with him, To see how inly Sorrow gripes his
Soule

Queen. What, weeping ripe, my Lord Northumberland? Thinke but vpon
the wrong he did vs all,

And that will quickly drie thy melting Teares

Clifford. Heere's for my Oath, heere's for my Fathers Death

Queene. And heere's to right our gentle-hearted King

Yorke. Open thy Gate of Mercy, gracious God, My Soule flyes through
these wounds, to seeke out thee

Queene. Off with his Head, and set it on Yorke Gates, So Yorke may
ouer-looke the Towne of Yorke.

Flourish. Exit.

A March. Enter Edward, Richard, and their power.

Edward. I wonder how our Princely Father scap't: Or whether he be
scap't away, or no,

From Cliffords and Northumberlands pursuit? Had he been ta'ne, we
should haue heard the newes; Had he beene slaine, we should haue heard
the newes: Or had he scap't, me thinkes we should haue heard The happy
tidings of his good escape.

How fares my Brother? why is he so sad?

Richard. I cannot ioy, vntill I be resolu'd Where our right valiant
Father is become. I saw him in the Battaile range about,

And watcht him how he singled Clifford forth. Me thought he bore him in
the thickest troupe, As doth a Lyon in a Heard of Neat,

Or as a Beare encompass'd round with Dogges: Who hauing pincht a few,
and made them cry, The rest stand all aloofe, and barke at him. So
far'd our Father with his Enemies,

So fled his Enemies my Warlike Father:

Me thinkes 'tis prize enough to be his Sonne. See how the Morning opes
her golden Gates, And takes her farwell of the glorious Sunne. How well
resembles it the prime of Youth, Trimm'd like a Yonker, prauncing to
his Loue?   Ed. Dazle mine eyes, or doe I see three Sunnes?   Rich.
Three glorious Sunnes, each one a perfect Sunne, Not seperated with the
racking Clouds,

But seuer'd in a pale cleare-shining Skye. See, see, they ioyne,
embrace, and seeme to kisse, As if they vow'd some League inuiolable.

Now are they but one Lampe, one Light, one Sunne: In this, the Heauen
figures some euent

Edward. 'Tis wondrous strange,

The like yet neuer heard of.

I thinke it cites vs (Brother) to the field, That wee, the Sonnes of
braue Plantagenet, Each one alreadie blazing by our meedes,

Should notwithstanding ioyne our Lights together, And ouer-shine the
Earth, as this the World. What ere it bodes, hence-forward will I beare
Vpon my Targuet three faire shining Sunnes

Richard. Nay, beare three Daughters:

By your leaue, I speake it,

You loue the Breeder better then the Male. Enter one blowing.

But what art thou, whose heauie Lookes fore-tell Some dreadfull story
hanging on thy Tongue?   Mess. Ah, one that was a wofull looker on,
When as the Noble Duke of Yorke was slaine, Your Princely Father, and
my louing Lord

Edward. Oh speake no more, for I haue heard too much

Richard. Say how he dy'de, for I will heare it all

Mess. Enuironed he was with many foes, And stood against them, as
the hope of Troy Against the Greekes, that would haue entred Troy. But
Hercules himselfe must yeeld to oddes: And many stroakes, though with a
little Axe, Hewes downe and fells the hardest-tymber'd Oake. By many
hands your Father was subdu'd,

But onely slaught'red by the irefull Arme Of vn-relenting Clifford, and
the Queene: Who crown'd the gracious Duke in high despight, Laugh'd in
his face: and when with griefe he wept, The ruthlesse Queene gaue him,
to dry his Cheekes, A Napkin, steeped in the harmelesse blood Of sweet
young Rutland, by rough Clifford slaine: And after many scornes, many
foule taunts, They tooke his Head, and on the Gates of Yorke They set
the same, and there it doth remaine, The saddest spectacle that ere I
view'd

Edward. Sweet Duke of Yorke, our Prop to leane vpon, Now thou art
gone, wee haue no Staffe, no Stay. Oh Clifford, boyst'rous Clifford,
thou hast slaine The flowre of Europe, for his Cheualrie,

And trecherously hast thou vanquisht him, For hand to hand he would
haue vanquisht thee. Now my Soules Pallace is become a Prison: Ah,
would she breake from hence, that this my body Might in the ground be
closed vp in rest: For neuer henceforth shall I ioy againe:

Neuer, oh neuer shall I see more ioy

Rich. I cannot weepe: for all my bodies moysture Scarse serues to
quench my Furnace-burning hart: Nor can my tongue vnloade my hearts
great burthen, For selfe-same winde that I should speake withall, Is
kindling coales that fires all my brest, And burnes me vp with flames,
that tears would quench. To weepe, is to make lesse the depth of
greefe: Teares then for Babes; Blowes, and Reuenge for mee. Richard, I
beare thy name, Ile venge thy death, Or dye renowned by attempting it

Ed. His name that valiant Duke hath left with thee: His Dukedome,
and his Chaire with me is left

Rich. Nay, if thou be that Princely Eagles Bird, Shew thy descent by
gazing 'gainst the Sunne: For Chaire and Dukedome, Throne and Kingdome
say, Either that is thine, or else thou wer't not his.

March. Enter Warwicke, Marquesse Mountacute, and their Army.

Warwick. How now faire Lords? What faire? What newes abroad?

Rich. Great Lord of Warwicke, if we should recompt Our balefull
newes, and at each words deliuerance Stab Poniards in our flesh, till
all were told, The words would adde more anguish then the wounds. O
valiant Lord, the Duke of Yorke is slaine

Edw. O Warwicke, Warwicke, that Plantagenet Which held thee deerely,
as his Soules Redemption, Is by the sterne Lord Clifford done to death

War. Ten dayes ago, I drown'd these newes in teares. And now to adde
more measure to your woes, I come to tell you things sith then befalne.
After the bloody Fray at Wakefield fought, Where your braue Father
breath'd his latest gaspe, Tydings, as swiftly as the Postes could
runne, Were brought me of your Losse, and his Depart. I then in London,
keeper of the King,

Muster'd my Soldiers, gathered flockes of Friends, Marcht toward
S[aint]. Albons, to intercept the Queene, Bearing the King in my
behalfe along:

For by my Scouts, I was aduertised

That she was comming with a full intent

To dash our late Decree in Parliament,

Touching King Henries Oath, and your Succession: Short Tale to make, we
at S[aint]. Albons met, Our Battailes ioyn'd, and both sides fiercely
fought: But whether 'twas the coldnesse of the King, Who look'd full
gently on his warlike Queene, That robb'd my Soldiers of their heated
Spleene. Or whether 'twas report of her successe,

Or more then common feare of Cliffords Rigour, Who thunders to his
Captiues, Blood and Death, I cannot iudge: but to conclude with truth,
Their Weapons like to Lightning, came and went: Our Souldiers like the
Night-Owles lazie flight, Or like a lazie Thresher with a Flaile,

Fell gently downe, as if they strucke their Friends. I cheer'd them vp
with iustice of our Cause, With promise of high pay, and great Rewards:
But all in vaine, they had no heart to fight, And we (in them) no hope
to win the day,

So that we fled: the King vnto the Queene, Lord George, your Brother,
Norfolke, and my Selfe, In haste, post haste, are come to ioyne with
you: For in the Marches heere we heard you were, Making another Head,
to fight againe

Ed. Where is the Duke of Norfolke, gentle Warwick? And when came
George from Burgundy to England?   War. Some six miles off the Duke is
with the Soldiers, And for your Brother he was lately sent

From your kinde Aunt Dutchesse of Burgundie, With ayde of Souldiers to
this needfull Warre

Rich. 'Twas oddes belike, when valiant Warwick fled; Oft haue I
heard his praises in Pursuite, But ne're till now, his Scandall of
Retire

War. Nor now my Scandall Richard, dost thou heare: For thou shalt
know this strong right hand of mine, Can plucke the Diadem from faint
Henries head, And wring the awefull Scepter from his Fist, Were he as
famous, and as bold in Warre,

As he is fam'd for Mildnesse, Peace, and Prayer

Rich. I know it well Lord Warwick, blame me not, 'Tis loue I beare
thy glories make me speake: But in this troublous time, what's to be
done? Shall we go throw away our Coates of Steele, And wrap our bodies
in blacke mourning Gownes, Numb'ring our Aue-Maries with our Beads?

Or shall we on the Helmets of our Foes

Tell our Deuotion with reuengefull Armes? If for the last, say I, and
to it Lords

War. Why therefore Warwick came to seek you out, And therefore comes
my Brother Mountague: Attend me Lords, the proud insulting Queene, With
Clifford, and the haught Northumberland, And of their Feather, many moe
proud Birds, Haue wrought the easie-melting King, like Wax. He swore
consent to your Succession,

His Oath enrolled in the Parliament.

And now to London all the crew are gone,

To frustrate both his Oath, and what beside May make against the house
of Lancaster.

Their power (I thinke) is thirty thousand strong: Now, if the helpe of
Norfolke, and my selfe, With all the Friends that thou braue Earle of
March, Among'st the louing Welshmen can'st procure, Will but amount to
fiue and twenty thousand, Why Via, to London will we march,

And once againe, bestride our foaming Steeds, And once againe cry
Charge vpon our Foes, But neuer once againe turne backe and flye

Rich. I, now me thinks I heare great Warwick speak; Ne're may he
liue to see a Sun-shine day, That cries Retire, if Warwicke bid him
stay

Ed. Lord Warwicke, on thy shoulder will I leane, And when thou
failst (as God forbid the houre) Must Edward fall, which perill heauen
forefend

War. No longer Earle of March, but Duke of Yorke: The next degree,
is Englands Royall Throne: For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd
In euery Burrough as we passe along,

And he that throwes not vp his cap for ioy, Shall for the Fault make
forfeit of his head. King Edward, valiant Richard Mountague:

Stay we no longer, dreaming of Renowne.

But sound the Trumpets, and about our Taske

Rich. Then Clifford, were thy heart as hard as Steele, As thou hast
shewne it flintie by thy deeds, I come to pierce it, or to giue thee
mine

Ed. Then strike vp Drums, God and S[aint]. George for vs. Enter a
Messenger.

War. How now? what newes?

Mes. The Duke of Norfolke sends you word by me, The Queene is comming
with a puissant Hoast, And craues your company, for speedy counsell

War. Why then it sorts, braue Warriors, let's away.

Exeunt. Omnes.

Flourish. Enter the King, the Queene, Clifford, Northum[berland] and
Yong

Prince, with Drumme and Trumpettes.

Qu. Welcome my Lord, to this braue town of Yorke, Yonders the head of
that Arch-enemy,

That sought to be incompast with your Crowne. Doth not the obiect
cheere your heart, my Lord

K. I, as the rockes cheare them that feare their wrack, To see this
sight, it irkes my very soule: With-hold reuenge (deere God) 'tis not
my fault, Nor wittingly haue I infring'd my Vow

Clif. My gracious Liege, this too much lenity And harmfull pitty
must be layd aside:

To whom do Lyons cast their gentle Lookes? Not to the Beast, that would
vsurpe their Den. Whose hand is that the Forrest Beare doth licke? Not
his that spoyles her yong before her face. Who scapes the lurking
Serpents mortall sting? Not he that sets his foot vpon her backe. The
smallest Worme will turne, being troden on, And Doues will pecke in
safegard of their Brood. Ambitious Yorke, did leuell at thy Crowne,
Thou smiling, while he knit his angry browes. He but a Duke, would haue
his Sonne a King, And raise his issue like a louing Sire.

Thou being a King, blest with a goodly sonne, Did'st yeeld consent to
disinherit him:

Which argued thee a most vnlouing Father. Vnreasonable Creatures feed
their young,

And though mans face be fearefull to their eyes, Yet in protection of
their tender ones,

Who hath not seene them euen with those wings, Which sometime they haue
vs'd with fearfull flight, Make warre with him that climb'd vnto their
nest, Offering their owne liues in their yongs defence? For shame, my
Liege, make them your President: Were it not pitty that this goodly
Boy

Should loose his Birth-right by his Fathers fault, And long heereafter
say vnto his childe,

What my great Grandfather, and Grandsire got, My carelesse Father
fondly gaue away.

Ah, what a shame were this? Looke on the Boy, And let his manly face,
which promiseth

Successefull Fortune steele thy melting heart, To hold thine owne, and
leaue thine owne with him

King. Full well hath Clifford plaid the Orator, Inferring arguments
of mighty force:

But Clifford tell me, did'st thou neuer heare, That things ill got, had
euer bad successe. And happy alwayes was it for that Sonne,

Whose Father for his hoording went to hell: Ile leaue my Sonne my
Vertuous deeds behinde, And would my Father had left me no more:

For all the rest is held at such a Rate,

As brings a thousand fold more care to keepe, Then in possession any
iot of pleasure.

Ah Cosin Yorke, would thy best Friends did know, How it doth greeue me
that thy head is heere

Qu. My Lord cheere vp your spirits, our foes are nye, And this soft
courage makes your Followers faint: You promist Knighthood to our
forward sonne, Vnsheath your sword, and dub him presently. Edward,
kneele downe

King. Edward Plantagenet, arise a Knight, And learne this Lesson;
Draw thy Sword in right

Prin. My gracious Father, by your Kingly leaue, Ile draw it as
Apparant to the Crowne,

And in that quarrell, vse it to the death

Clif. Why that is spoken like a toward Prince. Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Royall Commanders, be in readinesse, For with a Band of thirty
thousand men,

Comes Warwicke backing of the Duke of Yorke, And in the Townes as they
do march along, Proclaimes him King, and many flye to him, Darraigne
your battell, for they are at hand

Clif. I would your Highnesse would depart the field, The Queene hath
best successe when you are absent

Qu. I good my Lord, and leaue vs to our Fortune

King. Why, that's my fortune too, therefore Ile stay

North. Be it with resolution then to fight

Prin. My Royall Father, cheere these Noble Lords, And hearten those
that fight in your defence: Vnsheath your Sword, good Father: Cry
S[aint]. George.

March. Enter Edward, Warwicke, Richard, Clarence, Norfolke, Mountague,
and

Soldiers.

Edw. Now periur'd Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace? And set thy
Diadem vpon my head?

Or bide the mortall Fortune of the field

Qu. Go rate thy Minions, proud insulting Boy, Becomes it thee to be
thus bold in termes, Before thy Soueraigne, and thy lawfull King?   Ed.
I am his King, and he should bow his knee: I was adopted Heire by his
consent

Cla. Since when, his Oath is broke: for as I heare, You that are
King, though he do weare the Crowne, Haue caus'd him by new Act of
Parliament, To blot out me, and put his owne Sonne in

Clif. And reason too,

Who should succeede the Father, but the Sonne

Rich. Are you there Butcher? O, I cannot speake

Clif. I Crooke-back, here I stand to answer thee, Or any he, the
proudest of thy sort

Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd yong Rutland, was it not?   Clif. I, and
old Yorke, and yet not satisfied

Rich. For Gods sake Lords giue signall to the fight

War. What say'st thou Henry,

Wilt thou yeeld the Crowne?

Qu. Why how now long-tongu'd Warwicke, dare you speak? When you and
I, met at S[aint]. Albons last, Your legges did better seruice then
your hands

War. Then 'twas my turne to fly, and now 'tis thine:   Clif. You
said so much before, and yet you fled

War. 'Twas not your valor Clifford droue me thence

Nor. No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay

Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reuerently, Breake off the parley,
for scarse I can refraine The execution of my big-swolne heart

Vpon that Clifford, that cruell Child-killer

Clif. I slew thy Father, cal'st thou him a Child?   Rich. I like a
Dastard, and a treacherous Coward, As thou didd'st kill our tender
Brother Rutland, But ere Sunset, Ile make thee curse the deed

King. Haue done with words (my Lords) and heare me speake

Qu. Defie them then, or els hold close thy lips

King. I prythee giue no limits to my Tongue, I am a King, and
priuiledg'd to speake

Clif. My Liege, the wound that bred this meeting here, Cannot be
cur'd by Words, therefore be still

Rich. Then Executioner vnsheath thy sword: By him that made vs all,
I am resolu'd,

That Cliffords Manhood, lyes vpon his tongue

Ed. Say Henry, shall I haue my right, or no: A thousand men haue
broke their Fasts to day, That ne're shall dine, vnlesse thou yeeld the
Crowne

War. If thou deny, their Blood vpon thy head, For Yorke in iustice
put's his Armour on

Pr.Ed. If that be right, which Warwick saies is right, There is no
wrong, but euery thing is right

War. Who euer got thee, there thy Mother stands, For well I wot,
thou hast thy Mothers tongue

Qu. But thou art neyther like thy Sire nor Damme, But like a foule
mishapen Stygmaticke,

Mark'd by the Destinies to be auoided,

As venome Toades, or Lizards dreadfull stings

Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, Whose Father beares the
Title of a King,

(As if a Channell should be call'd the Sea) Sham'st thou not, knowing
whence thou art extraught, To let thy tongue detect thy base-borne
heart

Ed. A wispe of straw were worth a thousand Crowns, To make this
shamelesse Callet know her selfe: Helen of Greece was fayrer farre then
thou, Although thy Husband may be Menelaus;

And ne're was Agamemnons Brother wrong'd

By that false Woman, as this King by thee. His Father reuel'd in the
heart of France, And tam'd the King, and made the Dolphin stoope: And
had he match'd according to his State, He might haue kept that glory to
this day. But when he tooke a begger to his bed,

And grac'd thy poore Sire with his Bridall day, Euen then that
Sun-shine brew'd a showre for him, That washt his Fathers fortunes
forth of France, And heap'd sedition on his Crowne at home: For what
hath broach'd this tumult but thy Pride? Had'st thou bene meeke, our
Title still had slept, And we in pitty of the Gentle King,

Had slipt our Claime, vntill another Age

Cla. But when we saw, our Sunshine made thy Spring, And that thy
Summer bred vs no increase,

We set the Axe to thy vsurping Roote:

And though the edge hath something hit our selues, Yet know thou, since
we haue begun to strike, Wee'l neuer leaue, till we haue hewne thee
downe, Or bath'd thy growing, with our heated bloods

Edw. And in this resolution, I defie thee, Not willing any longer
Conference,

Since thou denied'st the gentle King to speake. Sound Trumpets, let our
bloody Colours waue, And either Victorie, or else a Graue

Qu. Stay Edward

Ed. No wrangling Woman, wee'l no longer stay, These words will cost
ten thousand liues this day.

Exeunt. omnes.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter Warwicke.

War. Fore-spent with Toile, as Runners with a Race, I lay me downe a
little while to breath:

For strokes receiu'd, and many blowes repaid, Haue robb'd my strong
knit sinewes of their strength, And spight of spight, needs must I rest
a-while. Enter Edward running.

Ed. Smile gentle heauen, or strike vngentle death, For this world
frownes, and Edwards Sunne is clowded

War. How now my Lord, what happe? what hope of good?

Enter Clarence

Cla. Our hap is losse, our hope but sad dispaire, Our rankes are
broke, and ruine followes vs. What counsaile giue you? whether shall we
flye?   Ed. Bootlesse is flight, they follow vs with Wings, And weake
we are, and cannot shun pursuite. Enter Richard.

Rich. Ah Warwicke, why hast y withdrawn thy selfe? Thy Brothers blood
the thirsty earth hath drunk, Broach'd with the Steely point of
Cliffords Launce: And in the very pangs of death, he cryde, Like to a
dismall Clangor heard from farre, Warwicke, reuenge; Brother, reuenge
my death. So vnderneath the belly of their Steeds,

That stain'd their Fetlockes in his smoaking blood, The Noble Gentleman
gaue vp the ghost

War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood: Ile kill my
Horse, because I will not flye: Why stand we like soft-hearted women
heere, Wayling our losses, whiles the Foe doth Rage, And looke vpon, as
if the Tragedie

Were plaid in iest, by counterfetting Actors. Heere on my knee, I vow
to God aboue,

Ile neuer pawse againe, neuer stand still, Till either death hath
clos'd these eyes of mine, Or Fortune giuen me measure of Reuenge

Ed. Oh Warwicke, I do bend my knee with thine, And in this vow do
chaine my soule to thine: And ere my knee rise from the Earths cold
face, I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, Thou setter vp,
and plucker downe of Kings: Beseeching thee (if with thy will it
stands) That to my Foes this body must be prey,

Yet that thy brazen gates of heauen may ope, And giue sweet passage to
my sinfull soule. Now Lords, take leaue vntill we meete againe, Where
ere it be, in heauen, or in earth

Rich. Brother,

Giue me thy hand, and gentle Warwicke,

Let me imbrace thee in my weary armes:

I that did neuer weepe, now melt with wo, That Winter should cut off
our Spring-time so

War. Away, away:

Once more sweet Lords farwell

Cla. Yet let vs altogether to our Troopes, And giue them leaue to
flye, that will not stay: And call them Pillars that will stand to vs:
And if we thriue, promise them such rewards As Victors weare at the
Olympian Games.

This may plant courage in their quailing breasts, For yet is hope of
Life and Victory:

Foreslow no longer, make we hence amaine.

Exeunt.

Excursions. Enter Richard and Clifford.

Rich. Now Clifford, I haue singled thee alone, Suppose this arme is
for the Duke of Yorke, And this for Rutland, both bound to reuenge,
Wer't thou inuiron'd with a Brazen wall

Clif. Now Richard, I am with thee heere alone, This is the hand that
stabb'd thy Father Yorke, And this the hand, that slew thy Brother
Rutland, And here's the heart, that triumphs in their death, And
cheeres these hands, that slew thy Sire and Brother, To execute the
like vpon thy selfe,

And so haue at thee.

They Fight, Warwicke comes, Clifford flies.

Rich. Nay Warwicke, single out some other Chace, For I my selfe will
hunt this Wolfe to death.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter King Henry alone.

Hen. This battell fares like to the mornings Warre, When dying clouds
contend, with growing light, What time the Shepheard blowing of his
nailes, Can neither call it perfect day, nor night. Now swayes it this
way, like a Mighty Sea, Forc'd by the Tide, to combat with the Winde:
Now swayes it that way, like the selfe-same Sea, Forc'd to retyre by
furie of the Winde.

Sometime, the Flood preuailes; and than the Winde: Now, one the better:
then, another best;

Both tugging to be Victors, brest to brest: Yet neither Conqueror, nor
Conquered.

So is the equall poise of this fell Warre. Heere on this Mole-hill will
I sit me downe, To whom God will, there be the Victorie:

For Margaret my Queene, and Clifford too

Haue chid me from the Battell: Swearing both, They prosper best of all
when I am thence. Would I were dead, if Gods good will were so; For
what is in this world, but Greefe and Woe. Oh God! me thinkes it were a
happy life,

To be no better then a homely Swaine,

To sit vpon a hill, as I do now,

To carue out Dialls queintly, point by point, Thereby to see the
Minutes how they runne: How many makes the Houre full compleate,

How many Houres brings about the Day,

How many Dayes will finish vp the Yeare,

How many Yeares, a Mortall man may liue.

When this is knowne, then to diuide the Times: So many Houres, must I
tend my Flocke;

So many Houres, must I take my Rest:

So many Houres, must I Contemplate:

So many Houres, must I Sport my selfe:

So many Dayes, my Ewes haue bene with yong: So many weekes, ere the
poore Fooles will Eane: So many yeares, ere I shall sheere the Fleece:
So Minutes, Houres, Dayes, Monthes, and Yeares, Past ouer to the end
they were created,

Would bring white haires, vnto a Quiet graue. Ah! what a life were
this? How sweet? how louely? Giues not the Hawthorne bush a sweeter
shade To Shepheards, looking on their silly Sheepe, Then doth a rich
Imbroider'd Canopie

To Kings, that feare their Subiects treacherie? Oh yes, it doth; a
thousand fold it doth. And to conclude, the Shepherds homely Curds, His
cold thinne drinke out of his Leather Bottle, His wonted sleepe, vnder
a fresh trees shade, All which secure, and sweetly he enioyes, Is farre
beyond a Princes Delicates:

His Viands sparkling in a Golden Cup,

His bodie couched in a curious bed,

When Care, Mistrust, and Treason waits on him.

Alarum. Enter a Sonne that hath kill'd his Father, at one doore: and a

Father that hath kill'd his Sonne at another doore.

Son. Ill blowes the winde that profits no body, This man whom hand to
hand I slew in fight, May be possessed with some store of Crownes, And
I that (haply) take them from him now, May yet (ere night) yeeld both
my Life and them To some man else, as this dead man doth me. Who's
this? Oh God! It is my Fathers face, Whom in this Conflict, I (vnwares)
haue kill'd: Oh heauy times! begetting such Euents.

From London, by the King was I prest forth, My Father being the Earle
of Warwickes man, Came on the part of Yorke, prest by his Master: And
I, who at his hands receiu'd my life, Haue by my hands, of Life
bereaued him.

Pardon me God, I knew not what I did:

And pardon Father, for I knew not thee.

My Teares shall wipe away these bloody markes: And no more words, till
they haue flow'd their fill

King. O pitteous spectacle! O bloody Times! Whiles Lyons Warre, and
battaile for their Dennes, Poore harmlesse Lambes abide their enmity.
Weepe wretched man: Ile ayde thee Teare for Teare, And let our hearts
and eyes, like Ciuill Warre, Be blinde with teares, and break
ore-charg'd with griefe Enter Father, bearing of his Sonne.

Fa. Thou that so stoutly hath resisted me, Giue me thy Gold, if thou
hast any Gold:

For I haue bought it with an hundred blowes. But let me see: Is this
our Foe-mans face? Ah, no, no, no, it is mine onely Sonne.

Ah Boy, if any life be left in thee,

Throw vp thine eye: see, see, what showres arise, Blowne with the
windie Tempest of my heart, Vpon thy wounds, that killes mine Eye, and
Heart. O pitty God, this miserable Age!

What Stratagems? how fell? how Butcherly? Erreoneous, mutinous, and
vnnaturall,

This deadly quarrell daily doth beget?

O Boy! thy Father gaue thee life too soone, And hath bereft thee of thy
life too late

King. Wo aboue wo: greefe, more the[n] common greefe O that my death
would stay these ruthfull deeds: O pitty, pitty, gentle heauen pitty:

The Red Rose and the White are on his face, The fatall Colours of our
striuing Houses: The one, his purple Blood right well resembles, The
other his pale Cheekes (me thinkes) presenteth: Wither one Rose, and
let the other flourish: If you contend, a thousand liues must wither

Son. How will my Mother, for a Fathers death Take on with me, and
ne're be satisfi'd?

Fa. How will my Wife, for slaughter of my Sonne, Shed seas of Teares,
and ne're be satisfi'd?   King. How will the Country, for these woful
chances, Mis-thinke the King, and not be satisfied?   Son. Was euer
sonne, so rew'd a Fathers death?   Fath. Was euer Father so bemoan'd
his Sonne?   Hen. Was euer King so greeu'd for Subiects woe? Much is
your sorrow; Mine, ten times so much

Son. Ile beare thee hence, where I may weepe my fill

Fath. These armes of mine shall be thy winding sheet: My heart
(sweet Boy) shall be thy Sepulcher, For from my heart, thine Image
ne're shall go. My sighing brest, shall be thy Funerall bell; And so
obsequious will thy Father be,

Men for the losse of thee, hauing no more, As Priam was for all his
Valiant Sonnes,

Ile beare thee hence, and let them fight that will, For I haue
murthered where I should not kill.

Exit

Hen. Sad-hearted-men, much ouergone with Care; Heere sits a King,
more wofull then you are.

Alarums. Excursions. Enter the Queen, the Prince, and Exeter.

Prin. Fly Father, flye: for all your Friends are fled. And Warwicke
rages like a chafed Bull:

Away, for death doth hold vs in pursuite

Qu. Mount you my Lord, towards Barwicke post amaine: Edward and
Richard like a brace of Grey-hounds, Hauing the fearfull flying Hare in
sight, With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath, And bloody steele
graspt in their yrefull hands Are at our backes, and therefore hence
amaine

Exet. Away: for vengeance comes along with them. Nay, stay not to
expostulate, make speed, Or else come after, Ile away before

Hen. Nay take me with thee, good sweet Exeter: Not that I feare to
stay, but loue to go

Whether the Queene intends. Forward, away.

Exeunt.

A lowd alarum. Enter Clifford Wounded.

Clif. Heere burnes my Candle out; I, heere it dies, Which whiles it
lasted, gaue King Henry light. O Lancaster! I feare thy ouerthrow,

More then my Bodies parting with my Soule: My Loue and Feare, glew'd
many Friends to thee, And now I fall. Thy tough Commixtures melts,
Impairing Henry, strength'ning misproud Yorke; And whether flye the
Gnats, but to the Sunne? And who shines now, but Henries Enemies?

O Phoebus! had'st thou neuer giuen consent, That Phton should checke
thy fiery Steeds, Thy burning Carre neuer had scorch'd the earth. And
Henry, had'st thou sway'd as Kings should do, Or as thy Father, and his
Father did,

Giuing no ground vnto the house of Yorke, They neuer then had sprung
like Sommer Flyes: I, and ten thousand in this lucklesse Realme, Had
left no mourning Widdowes for our death, And thou this day, had'st kept
thy Chaire in peace. For what doth cherrish Weeds, but gentle ayre? And
what makes Robbers bold, but too much lenity? Bootlesse are Plaints,
and Curelesse are my Wounds: No way to flye, no strength to hold out
flight: The Foe is mercilesse, and will not pitty: For at their hands I
haue deseru'd no pitty. The ayre hath got into my deadly Wounds,

And much effuse of blood, doth make me faint: Come Yorke, and Richard,
Warwicke, and the rest, I stab'd your Fathers bosomes; Split my brest.

Alarum & Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwicke, Richard, and Soldiers,
Montague,

& Clarence.

Ed. Now breath we Lords, good fortune bids vs pause, And smooth the
frownes of War, with peacefull lookes: Some Troopes pursue the
bloody-minded Queene, That led calme Henry, though he were a King, As
doth a Saile, fill'd with a fretting Gust Command an Argosie to stemme
the Waues.

But thinke you (Lords) that Clifford fled with them?   War. No, 'tis
impossible he should escape: (For though before his face I speake the
words) Your Brother Richard markt him for the Graue. And wheresoere he
is, hee's surely dead.

Clifford grones

Rich. Whose soule is that which takes hir heauy leaue? A deadly
grone, like life and deaths departing. See who it is

Ed. And now the Battailes ended,

If Friend or Foe, let him be gently vsed

Rich. Reuoke that doome of mercy, for 'tis Clifford, Who not
contented that he lopp'd the Branch In hewing Rutland, when his leaues
put forth, But set his murth'ring knife vnto the Roote, From whence
that tender spray did sweetly spring, I meane our Princely Father, Duke
of Yorke

War. From off the gates of Yorke, fetch down y head, Your Fathers
head, which Clifford placed there: In stead whereof, let this supply
the roome, Measure for measure, must be answered

Ed. Bring forth that fatall Schreechowle to our house, That nothing
sung but death, to vs and ours: Now death shall stop his dismall
threatning sound, And his ill-boading tongue, no more shall speake

War. I thinke his vnderstanding is bereft: Speake Clifford, dost
thou know who speakes to thee? Darke cloudy death ore-shades his beames
of life, And he nor sees, nor heares vs, what we say

Rich. O would he did, and so (perhaps) he doth, 'Tis but his policy
to counterfet,

Because he would auoid such bitter taunts Which in the time of death he
gaue our Father

Cla. If so thou think'st,

Vex him with eager Words

Rich. Clifford, aske mercy, and obtaine no grace

Ed. Clifford, repent in bootlesse penitence

War. Clifford, deuise excuses for thy faults

Cla. While we deuise fell Tortures for thy faults

Rich. Thou didd'st loue Yorke, and I am son to Yorke

Edw. Thou pittied'st Rutland, I will pitty thee

Cla. Where's Captaine Margaret, to fence you now?   War. They mocke
thee Clifford,

Sweare as thou was't wont

Ric. What, not an Oath? Nay then the world go's hard When Clifford
cannot spare his Friends an oath: I know by that he's dead, and by my
Soule, If this right hand would buy two houres life, That I (in all
despight) might rayle at him, This hand should chop it off: & with the
issuing Blood Stifle the Villaine, whose vnstanched thirst Yorke, and
yong Rutland could not satisfie   War. I, but he's dead. Of with the
Traitors head, And reare it in the place your Fathers stands. And now
to London with Triumphant march,

There to be crowned Englands Royall King: From whence, shall Warwicke
cut the Sea to France, And aske the Ladie Bona for thy Queene:

So shalt thou sinow both these Lands together, And hauing France thy
Friend, thou shalt not dread The scattred Foe, that hopes to rise
againe: For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, Yet looke to haue
them buz to offend thine eares: First, will I see the Coronation,

And then to Britanny Ile crosse the Sea,

To effect this marriage, so it please my Lord

Ed. Euen as thou wilt sweet Warwicke, let it bee: For in thy
shoulder do I builde my Seate; And neuer will I vndertake the thing

Wherein thy counsaile and consent is wanting: Richard, I will create
thee Duke of Gloucester, And George of Clarence; Warwicke as our Selfe,
Shall do, and vndo as him pleaseth best

Rich. Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloster, For Glosters
Dukedome is too ominous

War. Tut, that's a foolish obseruation: Richard, be Duke of Gloster:
Now to London, To see these Honors in possession.

Exeunt.

Enter Sinklo, and Humfrey, with Crosse-bowes in their hands.

Sink. Vnder this thicke growne brake, wee'l shrowd our selues: For
through this Laund anon the Deere will come, And in this couert will we
make our Stand, Culling the principall of all the Deere

Hum. Ile stay aboue the hill, so both may shoot

Sink. That cannot be, the noise of thy Crosse-bow Will scarre the
Heard, and so my shoot is lost: Heere stand we both, and ayme we at the
best: And for the time shall not seeme tedious, Ile tell thee what
befell me on a day,

In this selfe-place, where now we meane to stand

Sink. Heere comes a man, let's stay till he be past: Enter the King
with a Prayer booke.

Hen. From Scotland am I stolne euen of pure loue, To greet mine owne
Land with my wishfull sight: No Harry, Harry, 'tis no Land of thine,

Thy place is fill'd, thy Scepter wrung from thee, Thy Balme washt off,
wherewith thou was Annointed: No bending knee will call thee Csar now,
No humble suters prease to speake for right: No, not a man comes for
redresse of thee: For how can I helpe them, and not my selfe?   Sink.
I, heere's a Deere, whose skin's a Keepers Fee: This is the quondam
King; Let's seize vpon him

Hen. Let me embrace the sower Aduersaries, For Wise men say, it is
the wisest course

Hum. Why linger we? Let vs lay hands vpon him

Sink. Forbeare a-while, wee'l heare a little more

Hen. My Queene and Son are gone to France for aid: And (as I heare)
the great Commanding Warwicke I: thither gone, to craue the French
Kings Sister To wife for Edward. If this newes be true, Poore Queene,
and Sonne, your labour is but lost: For Warwicke is a subtle Orator:

And Lewis a Prince soone wonne with mouing words: By this account then,
Margaret may winne him, For she's a woman to be pittied much:

Her sighes will make a batt'ry in his brest, Her teares will pierce
into a Marble heart: The Tyger will be milde, whiles she doth mourne;
And Nero will be tainted with remorse,

To heare and see her plaints, her Brinish Teares. I, but shee's come to
begge, Warwicke to giue: Shee on his left side, crauing ayde for
Henrie; He on his right, asking a wife for Edward. Shee Weepes, and
sayes, her Henry is depos'd: He Smiles, and sayes, his Edward is
instaul'd; That she (poore Wretch) for greefe can speake no more:
Whiles Warwicke tels his Title, smooths the Wrong, Inferreth arguments
of mighty strength,

And in conclusion winnes the King from her, With promise of his Sister,
and what else, To strengthen and support King Edwards place. O
Margaret, thus 'twill be, and thou (poore soule) Art then forsaken, as
thou went'st forlorne

Hum. Say, what art thou talk'st of Kings & Queens?   King. More then
I seeme, and lesse then I was born to: A man at least, for lesse I
should not be: And men may talke of Kings, and why not I?   Hum. I, but
thou talk'st, as if thou wer't a King

King. Why so I am (in Minde) and that's enough

Hum. But if thou be a King, where is thy Crowne?   King. My Crowne
is in my heart, not on my head: Not deck'd with Diamonds, and Indian
stones: Nor to be seene: my Crowne, is call'd Content, A Crowne it is,
that sildome Kings enioy

Hum. Well, if you be a King crown'd with Content, Your Crowne
Content, and you, must be contented To go along with vs. For (as we
thinke)

You are the king King Edward hath depos'd: And we his subiects, sworne
in all Allegeance, Will apprehend you, as his Enemie

King. But did you neuer sweare, and breake an Oath

Hum. No, neuer such an Oath, nor will not now

King. Where did you dwell when I was K[ing]. of England?   Hum.
Heere in this Country, where we now remaine

King. I was annointed King at nine monthes old, My Father, and my
Grandfather were Kings: And you were sworne true Subiects vnto me: And
tell me then, haue you not broke your Oathes?   Sin. No, for we were
Subiects, but while you wer king   King. Why? Am I dead? Do I not
breath a Man? Ah simple men, you know not what you sweare: Looke, as I
blow this Feather from my Face, And as the Ayre blowes it to me
againe,

Obeying with my winde when I do blow,

And yeelding to another, when it blowes,

Commanded alwayes by the greater gust:

Such is the lightnesse of you, common men. But do not breake your
Oathes, for of that sinne, My milde intreatie shall not make you
guiltie. Go where you will, the king shall be commanded, And be you
kings, command, and Ile obey

Sinklo. We are true Subiects to the king, King Edward

King. So would you be againe to Henrie, If he were seated as king
Edward is

Sinklo. We charge you in Gods name & the Kings, To go with vs vnto
the Officers

King. In Gods name lead, your Kings name be obeyd, And what God
will, that let your King performe. And what he will, I humbly yeeld
vnto.

Exeunt.

Enter K[ing]. Edward, Gloster, Clarence, Lady Gray.

King. Brother of Gloster, at S[aint]. Albons field This Ladyes
Husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slaine, His Land then seiz'd on by the
Conqueror, Her suit is now, to repossesse those Lands, Which wee in
Iustice cannot well deny,

Because in Quarrell of the House of Yorke, The worthy Gentleman did
lose his Life

Rich. Your Highnesse shall doe well to graunt her suit: It were
dishonor to deny it her

King. It were no lesse, but yet Ile make a pawse

Rich. Yea, is it so:

I see the Lady hath a thing to graunt,

Before the King will graunt her humble suit

Clarence. Hee knowes the Game, how true hee keepes the winde?

Rich. Silence

King. Widow, we will consider of your suit, And come some other time
to know our minde

Wid. Right gracious Lord, I cannot brooke delay: May it please your
Highnesse to resolue me now, And what your pleasure is, shall satisfie
me

Rich. I Widow? then Ile warrant you all your Lands, And if what
pleases him, shall pleasure you: Fight closer, or good faith you'le
catch a Blow

Clarence. I feare her not, vnlesse she chance to fall

Rich. God forbid that, for hee'le take vantages

King. How many Children hast thou, Widow? tell me

Clarence. I thinke he meanes to begge a Child of her

Rich. Nay then whip me: hee'le rather giue her two

Wid. Three, my most gracious Lord

Rich. You shall haue foure, if you'le be rul'd by him

King. 'Twere pittie they should lose their Fathers Lands

Wid. Be pittifull, dread Lord, and graunt it then

King. Lords giue vs leaue, Ile trye this Widowes wit

Rich. I, good leaue haue you, for you will haue leaue, Till Youth
take leaue, and leaue you to the Crutch

King. Now tell me, Madame, doe you loue your Children?

Wid. I, full as dearely as I loue my selfe

King. And would you not doe much to doe them good?

Wid. To doe them good, I would sustayne some harme

King. Then get your Husbands Lands, to doe them good

Wid. Therefore I came vnto your Maiestie

King. Ile tell you how these Lands are to be got

Wid. So shall you bind me to your Highnesse seruice

King. What seruice wilt thou doe me, if I giue them?   Wid. What you
command, that rests in me to doe

King. But you will take exceptions to my Boone

Wid. No, gracious Lord, except I cannot doe it

King. I, but thou canst doe what I meane to aske

Wid. Why then I will doe what your Grace commands

Rich. Hee plyes her hard, and much Raine weares the Marble

Clar. As red as fire? nay then, her Wax must melt

Wid. Why stoppes my Lord? shall I not heare my Taske?

King. An easie Taske, 'tis but to loue a King

Wid. That's soone perform'd, because I am a Subiect

King. Why then, thy Husbands Lands I freely giue thee

Wid. I take my leaue with many thousand thankes

Rich. The Match is made, shee seales it with a Cursie

King. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of loue I meane

Wid. The fruits of Loue, I meane, my louing Liege

King. I, but I feare me in another sence. What Loue, think'st thou,
I sue so much to get?   Wid. My loue till death, my humble thanks, my
prayers, That loue which Vertue begges, and Vertue graunts

King. No, by my troth, I did not meane such loue

Wid. Why then you meane not, as I thought you did

King. But now you partly may perceiue my minde

Wid. My minde will neuer graunt what I perceiue Your Highnesse aymes
at, if I ayme aright

King. To tell thee plaine, I ayme to lye with thee

Wid. To tell you plaine, I had rather lye in Prison

King. Why then thou shalt not haue thy Husbands Lands

Wid. Why then mine Honestie shall be my Dower, For by that losse, I
will not purchase them

King. Therein thou wrong'st thy Children mightily

Wid. Herein your Highnesse wrongs both them & me: But mightie Lord,
this merry inclination

Accords not with the sadnesse of my suit: Please you dismisse me,
eyther with I, or no

King. I, if thou wilt say I to my request: No, if thou do'st say No
to my demand

Wid. Then No, my Lord: my suit is at an end

Rich. The Widow likes him not, shee knits her Browes

Clarence. Hee is the bluntest Wooer in Christendome

King. Her Looks doth argue her replete with Modesty, Her Words doth
shew her Wit incomparable, All her perfections challenge Soueraigntie,
One way, or other, shee is for a King,

And shee shall be my Loue, or else my Queene. Say, that King Edward
take thee for his Queene?   Wid. 'Tis better said then done, my
gracious Lord: I am a subiect fit to ieast withall,

But farre vnfit to be a Soueraigne

King. Sweet Widow, by my State I sweare to thee, I speake no more
then what my Soule intends, And that is, to enioy thee for my Loue

Wid. And that is more then I will yeeld vnto: I know, I am too meane
to be your Queene, And yet too good to be your Concubine

King. You cauill, Widow, I did meane my Queene

Wid. 'Twill grieue your Grace, my Sonnes should call you Father

King. No more, then when my Daughters

Call thee Mother.

Thou art a Widow, and thou hast some Children, And by Gods Mother, I
being but a Batchelor, Haue other-some. Why, 'tis a happy thing, To be
the Father vnto many Sonnes:

Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queene

Rich. The Ghostly Father now hath done his Shrift

Clarence. When hee was made a Shriuer, 'twas for shift

King. Brothers, you muse what Chat wee two haue had

Rich. The Widow likes it not, for shee lookes very sad

King. You'ld thinke it strange, if I should marrie her

Clarence. To who, my Lord?

King. Why Clarence, to my selfe

Rich. That would be tenne dayes wonder at the least

Clarence. That's a day longer then a Wonder lasts

Rich. By so much is the Wonder in extremes

King. Well, ieast on Brothers: I can tell you both, Her suit is
graunted for her Husbands Lands. Enter a Noble man

Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your Foe is taken, And brought your
Prisoner to your Pallace Gate

King. See that he be conuey'd vnto the Tower: And goe wee Brothers
to the man that tooke him, To question of his apprehension.

Widow goe you along: Lords vse her honourable.

Exeunt.

Manet Richard.

Rich. I, Edward will vse Women honourably: Would he were wasted,
Marrow, Bones, and all, That from his Loynes no hopefull Branch may
spring, To crosse me from the Golden time I looke for: And yet,
betweene my Soules desire, and me, The lustfull Edwards Title buryed,

Is Clarence, Henry, and his Sonne young Edward, And all the
vnlook'd-for Issue of their Bodies, To take their Roomes, ere I can
place my selfe: A cold premeditation for my purpose.

Why then I doe but dreame on Soueraigntie, Like one that stands vpon a
Promontorie,

And spyes a farre-off shore, where hee would tread, Wishing his foot
were equall with his eye, And chides the Sea, that sunders him from
thence, Saying, hee'le lade it dry, to haue his way: So doe I wish the
Crowne, being so farre off, And so I chide the meanes that keepes me
from it, And so (I say) Ile cut the Causes off,

Flattering me with impossibilities:

My Eyes too quicke, my Heart o're-weenes too much, Vnlesse my Hand and
Strength could equall them. Well, say there is no Kingdome then for
Richard: What other Pleasure can the World affoord? Ile make my Heauen
in a Ladies Lappe,

And decke my Body in gay Ornaments,

And 'witch sweet Ladies with my Words and Lookes. Oh miserable Thought!
and more vnlikely,

Then to accomplish twentie Golden Crownes. Why Loue forswore me in my
Mothers Wombe: And for I should not deale in her soft Lawes, Shee did
corrupt frayle Nature with some Bribe, To shrinke mine Arme vp like a
wither'd Shrub, To make an enuious Mountaine on my Back,

Where sits Deformitie to mocke my Body;

To shape my Legges of an vnequall size,

To dis-proportion me in euery part:

Like to a Chaos, or an vn-lick'd Beare-whelpe, That carryes no
impression like the Damme. And am I then a man to be belou'd?

Oh monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought. Then since this Earth
affoords no Ioy to me, But to command, to check, to o're-beare such, As
are of better Person then my selfe:

Ile make my Heauen, to dreame vpon the Crowne, And whiles I liue, t'
account this World but Hell, Vntill my mis-shap'd Trunke, that beares
this Head, Be round impaled with a glorious Crowne.

And yet I know not how to get the Crowne, For many Liues stand betweene
me and home: And I, like one lost in a Thornie Wood,

That rents the Thornes, and is rent with the Thornes, Seeking a way,
and straying from the way, Not knowing how to finde the open Ayre,

But toyling desperately to finde it out,

Torment my selfe, to catch the English Crowne: And from that torment I
will free my selfe, Or hew my way out with a bloody Axe.

Why I can smile, and murther whiles I smile, And cry, Content, to that
which grieues my Heart, And wet my Cheekes with artificiall Teares, And
frame my Face to all occasions.

Ile drowne more Saylers then the Mermaid shall, Ile slay more gazers
then the Basiliske,

Ile play the Orator as well as Nestor,

Deceiue more slyly then Vlisses could,

And like a Synon, take another Troy.

I can adde Colours to the Camelion,

Change shapes with Proteus, for aduantages, And set the murtherous
Macheuill to Schoole. Can I doe this, and cannot get a Crowne?

Tut, were it farther off, Ile plucke it downe. Enter.

Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King, his Sister Bona, his Admirall,

call'd Bourbon: Prince Edward, Queene Margaret, and the Earle of
Oxford.

Lewis sits, and riseth vp againe.

Lewis. Faire Queene of England, worthy Margaret, Sit downe with vs:
it ill befits thy State, And Birth, that thou should'st stand, while
Lewis doth sit

Marg. No, mightie King of France: now Margaret Must strike her
sayle, and learne a while to serue, Where Kings command. I was (I must
confesse) Great Albions Queene, in former Golden dayes: But now
mischance hath trod my Title downe, And with dis-honor layd me on the
ground, Where I must take like Seat vnto my fortune, And to my humble
Seat conforme my selfe

Lewis. Why say, faire Queene, whence springs this deepe despaire?

Marg. From such a cause, as fills mine eyes with teares, And stops my
tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares

Lewis. What ere it be, be thou still like thy selfe, And sit thee by
our side.

Seats her by him.

Yeeld not thy necke to Fortunes yoake,

But let thy dauntlesse minde still ride in triumph, Ouer all
mischance.

Be plaine, Queene Margaret, and tell thy griefe, It shall be eas'd, if
France can yeeld reliefe

Marg. Those gracious words

Reuiue my drooping thoughts,

And giue my tongue-ty'd sorrowes leaue to speake. Now therefore be it
knowne to Noble Lewis, That Henry, sole possessor of my Loue,

Is, of a King, become a banisht man,

And forc'd to liue in Scotland a Forlorne; While prowd ambitious
Edward, Duke of Yorke, Vsurpes the Regall Title, and the Seat

Of Englands true anoynted lawfull King.

This is the cause that I, poore Margaret, With this my Sonne, Prince
Edward, Henries Heire, Am come to craue thy iust and lawfull ayde: And
if thou faile vs, all our hope is done. Scotland hath will to helpe,
but cannot helpe: Our People, and our Peeres, are both mis-led, Our
Treasure seiz'd, our Souldiors put to flight, And (as thou seest) our
selues in heauie plight

Lewis. Renowned Queene,

With patience calme the Storme,

While we bethinke a meanes to breake it off

Marg. The more wee stay, the stronger growes our Foe

Lewis. The more I stay, the more Ile succour thee

Marg. O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow. And see where comes
the breeder of my sorrow. Enter Warwicke.

Lewis. What's hee approacheth boldly to our presence?   Marg. Our
Earle of Warwicke, Edwards greatest Friend

Lewis. Welcome braue Warwicke, what brings thee to France?

Hee descends. Shee ariseth.

Marg. I now begins a second Storme to rise, For this is hee that
moues both Winde and Tyde

Warw. From worthy Edward, King of Albion, My Lord and Soueraigne,
and thy vowed Friend, I come (in Kindnesse, and vnfayned Loue)

First, to doe greetings to thy Royall Person, And then to craue a
League of Amitie:

And lastly, to confirme that Amitie

With Nuptiall Knot, if thou vouchsafe to graunt That vertuous Lady
Bona, thy faire Sister, To Englands King, in lawfull Marriage

Marg. If that goe forward, Henries hope is done

Warw. And gracious Madame,

Speaking to Bona.

In our Kings behalfe,

I am commanded, with your leaue and fauor, Humbly to kisse your Hand,
and with my Tongue To tell the passion of my Soueraignes Heart; Where
Fame, late entring at his heedfull Eares, Hath plac'd thy Beauties
Image, and thy Vertue

Marg. King Lewis, and Lady Bona, heare me speake, Before you answer
Warwicke. His demand

Springs not from Edwards well-meant honest Loue, But from Deceit, bred
by Necessitie:

For how can Tyrants safely gouerne home,

Vnlesse abroad they purchase great allyance? To proue him Tyrant, this
reason may suffice, That Henry liueth still: but were hee dead, Yet
here Prince Edward stands, King Henries Sonne. Looke therefore Lewis,
that by this League and Mariage Thou draw not on thy Danger, and
Dis-honor: For though Vsurpers sway the rule a while, Yet Heau'ns are
iust, and Time suppresseth Wrongs

Warw. Iniurious Margaret

Edw. And why not Queene?

Warw. Because thy Father Henry did vsurpe, And thou no more art
Prince, then shee is Queene

Oxf. Then Warwicke disanulls great Iohn of Gaunt, Which did subdue
the greatest part of Spaine; And after Iohn of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth,
Whose Wisdome was a Mirror to the wisest: And after that wise Prince,
Henry the Fift, Who by his Prowesse conquered all France: From these,
our Henry lineally descends

Warw. Oxford, how haps it in this smooth discourse, You told not,
how Henry the Sixt hath lost All that, which Henry the Fift had gotten:
Me thinkes these Peeres of France should smile at that. But for the
rest: you tell a Pedigree

Of threescore and two yeeres, a silly time To make prescription for a
Kingdomes worth

Oxf. Why Warwicke, canst thou speak against thy Liege, Whom thou
obeyd'st thirtie and six yeeres, And not bewray thy Treason with a
Blush?

Warw. Can Oxford, that did euer fence the right, Now buckler
Falsehood with a Pedigree?

For shame leaue Henry, and call Edward King

Oxf. Call him my King, by whose iniurious doome My elder Brother,
the Lord Aubrey Vere

Was done to death? and more then so, my Father, Euen in the downe-fall
of his mellow'd yeeres, When Nature brought him to the doore of Death?
No Warwicke, no: while Life vpholds this Arme, This Arme vpholds the
House of Lancaster

Warw. And I the House of Yorke

Lewis. Queene Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, Vouchsafe at our
request, to stand aside, While I vse further conference with Warwicke.

They stand aloofe.

Marg. Heauens graunt, that Warwickes wordes bewitch him not

Lew. Now Warwicke, tell me euen vpon thy conscience Is Edward your
true King? for I were loth To linke with him, that were not lawfull
chosen

Warw. Thereon I pawne my Credit, and mine Honor

Lewis. But is hee gracious in the Peoples eye?   Warw. The more,
that Henry was vnfortunate

Lewis. Then further: all dissembling set aside, Tell me for truth,
the measure of his Loue Vnto our Sister Bona

War. Such it seemes,

As may beseeme a Monarch like himselfe.

My selfe haue often heard him say, and sweare, That this his Loue was
an externall Plant, Whereof the Root was fixt in Vertues ground, The
Leaues and Fruit maintain'd with Beauties Sunne, Exempt from Enuy, but
not from Disdaine,

Vnlesse the Lady Bona quit his paine

Lewis. Now Sister, let vs heare your firme resolue

Bona. Your graunt, or your denyall, shall be mine. Yet I confesse,
that often ere this day,

Speaks to War[wicke].

When I haue heard your Kings desert recounted, Mine eare hath tempted
iudgement to desire

Lewis. Then Warwicke, thus:

Our Sister shall be Edwards.

And now forthwith shall Articles be drawne, Touching the Ioynture that
your King must make, Which with her Dowrie shall be counter-poys'd:
Draw neere, Queene Margaret, and be a witnesse, That Bona shall be Wife
to the English King

Pr.Edw. To Edward, but not to the English King

Marg. Deceitfull Warwicke, it was thy deuice, By this alliance to
make void my suit:

Before thy comming, Lewis was Henries friend

Lewis. And still is friend to him, and Margaret. But if your Title
to the Crowne by weake, As may appeare by Edwards good successe:

Then 'tis but reason, that I be releas'd

From giuing ayde, which late I promised.

Yet shall you haue all kindnesse at my hand, That your Estate requires,
and mine can yeeld

Warw. Henry now liues in Scotland, at his ease; Where hauing
nothing, nothing can he lose. And as for you your selfe (our quondam
Queene) You haue a Father able to maintaine you,

And better 'twere, you troubled him, then France

Mar. Peace impudent, and shamelesse Warwicke, Proud setter vp, and
puller downe of Kings, I will not hence, till with my Talke and Teares
(Both full of Truth) I make King Lewis behold Thy slye conueyance, and
thy Lords false loue,

Post blowing a horne Within.

For both of you are Birds of selfe-same Feather

Lewes. Warwicke, this is some poste to vs, or thee. Enter the
Poste.

Post. My Lord Ambassador,

These Letters are for you.

Speakes to Warwick,

Sent from your Brother Marquesse Montague. These from our King, vnto
your Maiesty.

To Lewis.

And Madam, these for you:

To Margaret

From whom, I know not.

They all reade their Letters.

Oxf. I like it well, that our faire Queene and Mistris Smiles at her
newes, while Warwicke frownes at his

Prince Ed. Nay marke how Lewis stampes as he were netled. I hope,
all's for the best

Lew. Warwicke, what are thy Newes?

And yours, faire Queene

Mar. Mine such, as fill my heart with vnhop'd ioyes

War. Mine full of sorrow, and hearts discontent

Lew. What? has your King married the Lady Grey? And now to sooth
your Forgery, and his,

Sends me a Paper to perswade me Patience? Is this th' Alliance that he
seekes with France? Dare he presume to scorne vs in this manner?   Mar.
I told your Maiesty as much before: This proueth Edwards Loue, and
Warwickes honesty

War. King Lewis, I heere protest in sight of heauen, And by the hope
I haue of heauenly blisse, That I am cleere from this misdeed of
Edwards; No more my King, for he dishonors me,

But most himselfe, if he could see his shame. Did I forget, that by the
House of Yorke

My Father came vntimely to his death?

Did I let passe th' abuse done to my Neece? Did I impale him with the
Regall Crowne?

Did I put Henry from his Natiue Right?

And am I guerdon'd at the last, with Shame? Shame on himselfe, for my
Desert is Honor. And to repaire my Honor lost for him,

I heere renounce him, and returne to Henry. My Noble Queene, let former
grudges passe, And henceforth, I am thy true Seruitour:

I will reuenge his wrong to Lady Bona,

And replant Henry in his former state

Mar. Warwicke,

These words haue turn'd my Hate, to Loue, And I forgiue, and quite
forget old faults, And ioy that thou becom'st King Henries Friend

War. So much his Friend, I, his Vnfained Friend, That if King Lewis
vouchsafe to furnish vs With some few Bands of chosen Soldiours,

Ile vndertake to Land them on our Coast,

And force the Tyrant from his seat by Warre. 'Tis not his new-made
Bride shall succour him. And as for Clarence, as my Letters tell me,
Hee's very likely now to fall from him,

For matching more for wanton Lust, then Honor, Or then for strength and
safety of our Country

Bona. Deere Brother, how shall Bona be reueng'd, But by thy helpe to
this distressed Queene?   Mar. Renowned Prince, how shall Poore Henry
liue, Vnlesse thou rescue him from foule dispaire?   Bona. My quarrel,
and this English Queens, are one

War. And mine faire Lady Bona, ioynes with yours

Lew. And mine, with hers, and thine, and Margarets. Therefore, at
last, I firmely am resolu'd You shall haue ayde

Mar. Let me giue humble thankes for all, at once

Lew. Then Englands Messenger, returne in Poste, And tell false
Edward, thy supposed King, That Lewis of France, is sending ouer
Maskers To reuell it with him, and his new Bride. Thou seest what's
past, go feare thy King withall

Bona. Tell him, in hope hee'l proue a widower shortly, I weare the
Willow Garland for his sake

Mar. Tell him, my mourning weeds are layde aside, And I am ready to
put Armor on

War. Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong, And therefore Ile
vn-Crowne him, er't be long. There's thy reward, be gone.

Exit Post.

Lew. But Warwicke,

Thou and Oxford, with fiue thousand men

Shall crosse the Seas, and bid false Edward battaile: And as occasion
serues, this Noble Queen

And Prince, shall follow with a fresh Supply. Yet ere thou go, but
answer me one doubt: What Pledge haue we of thy firme Loyalty?   War.
This shall assure my constant Loyalty, That if our Queene, and this
young Prince agree, Ile ioyne mine eldest daughter, and my Ioy, To him
forthwith, in holy Wedlocke bands

Mar. Yes, I agree, and thanke you for your Motion. Sonne Edward, she
is Faire and Vertuous,

Therefore delay not, giue thy hand to Warwicke, And with thy hand, thy
faith irreuocable, That onely Warwickes daughter shall be thine

Prin.Ed. Yes, I accept her, for she well deserues it, And heere to
pledge my Vow, I giue my hand.

He giues his hand to Warw[icke].

Lew. Why stay we now? These soldiers shalbe leuied, And thou Lord
Bourbon, our High Admirall

Shall waft them ouer with our Royall Fleete. I long till Edward fall by
Warres mischance, For mocking Marriage with a Dame of France.

Exeunt. Manet Warwicke.

War. I came from Edward as Ambassador,

But I returne his sworne and mortall Foe: Matter of Marriage was the
charge he gaue me, But dreadfull Warre shall answer his demand. Had he
none else to make a stale but me?

Then none but I, shall turne his Iest to Sorrow. I was the Cheefe that
rais'd him to the Crowne, And Ile be Cheefe to bring him downe againe:
Not that I pitty Henries misery,

But seeke Reuenge on Edwards mockery.

Enter.

Enter Richard, Clarence, Somerset, and Mountague.

Rich. Now tell me Brother Clarence, what thinke you Of this new
Marriage with the Lady Gray?

Hath not our Brother made a worthy choice?   Cla. Alas, you know, tis
farre from hence to France, How could he stay till Warwicke made
returne?   Som. My Lords, forbeare this talke: heere comes the King.

Flourish. Enter King Edward, Lady Grey, Penbrooke, Stafford, Hastings:

foure stand on one side, and foure on the other.

Rich. And his well-chosen Bride

Clarence. I minde to tell him plainly what I thinke

King. Now Brother of Clarence,

How like you our Choyce,

That you stand pensiue, as halfe malecontent?   Clarence. As well as
Lewis of France,

Or the Earle of Warwicke,

Which are so weake of courage, and in iudgement, That they'le take no
offence at our abuse

King. Suppose they take offence without a cause: They are but Lewis
and Warwicke, I am Edward, Your King and Warwickes, and must haue my
will

Rich. And shall haue your will, because our King: Yet hastie
Marriage seldome proueth well

King. Yea, Brother Richard, are you offended too?   Rich. Not I:
no:

God forbid, that I should wish them seuer'd, Whom God hath ioyn'd
together:

I, and 'twere pittie, to sunder them,

That yoake so well together

King. Setting your skornes, and your mislike aside, Tell me some
reason, why the Lady Grey

Should not become my Wife, and Englands Queene? And you too, Somerset,
and Mountague,

Speake freely what you thinke

Clarence. Then this is mine opinion:

That King Lewis becomes your Enemie,

For mocking him about the Marriage

Of the Lady Bona

Rich. And Warwicke, doing what you gaue in charge, Is now
dis-honored by this new Marriage

King. What, if both Lewis and Warwick be appeas'd, By such inuention
as I can deuise?

Mount. Yet, to haue ioyn'd with France in such alliance, Would more
haue strength'ned this our Commonwealth 'Gainst forraine stormes, then
any home-bred Marriage

Hast. Why, knowes not Mountague, that of it selfe, England is safe,
if true within it selfe?   Mount. But the safer, when 'tis back'd with
France

Hast. 'Tis better vsing France, then trusting France: Let vs be
back'd with God, and with the Seas, Which he hath giu'n for fence
impregnable, And with their helpes, onely defend our selues: In them,
and in our selues, our safetie lyes

Clar. For this one speech, Lord Hastings well deserues To haue the
Heire of the Lord Hungerford

King. I, what of that? it was my will, and graunt, And for this
once, my Will shall stand for Law

Rich. And yet me thinks, your Grace hath not done well, To giue the
Heire and Daughter of Lord Scales Vnto the Brother of your louing
Bride;

Shee better would haue fitted me, or Clarence: But in your Bride you
burie Brotherhood

Clar. Or else you would not haue bestow'd the Heire Of the Lord
Bonuill on your new Wiues Sonne, And leaue your Brothers to goe speede
elsewhere

King. Alas, poore Clarence: is it for a Wife That thou art
malecontent? I will prouide thee

Clarence. In chusing for your selfe,

You shew'd your iudgement:

Which being shallow, you shall giue me leaue To play the Broker in mine
owne behalfe;

And to that end, I shortly minde to leaue you

King. Leaue me, or tarry, Edward will be King, And not be ty'd vnto
his Brothers will

Lady Grey. My Lords, before it pleas'd his Maiestie To rayse my
State to Title of a Queene,

Doe me but right, and you must all confesse, That I was not ignoble of
Descent,

And meaner then my selfe haue had like fortune. But as this Title
honors me and mine,

So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing, Doth cloud my ioyes with
danger, and with sorrow

King. My Loue, forbeare to fawne vpon their frownes: What danger, or
what sorrow can befall thee, So long as Edward is thy constant friend,
And their true Soueraigne, whom they must obey? Nay, whom they shall
obey, and loue thee too, Vnlesse they seeke for hatred at my hands:
Which if they doe, yet will I keepe thee safe, And they shall feele the
vengeance of my wrath

Rich. I heare, yet say not much, but thinke the more. Enter a Poste

King. Now Messenger, what Letters, or what Newes from France?

Post. My Soueraigne Liege, no Letters, & few words, But such, as I
(without your speciall pardon) Dare not relate

King. Goe too, wee pardon thee:

Therefore, in briefe, tell me their words, As neere as thou canst
guesse them.

What answer makes King Lewis vnto our Letters?   Post. At my depart,
these were his very words: Goe tell false Edward, the supposed King,
That Lewis of France is sending ouer Maskers, To reuell it with him,
and his new Bride

King. Is Lewis so braue? belike he thinkes me Henry. But what said
Lady Bona to my Marriage?

Post. These were her words, vtt'red with mild disdaine: Tell him, in
hope hee'le proue a Widower shortly, Ile weare the Willow Garland for
his sake

King. I blame not her; she could say little lesse: She had the
wrong. But what said Henries Queene? For I haue heard, that she was
there in place

Post. Tell him (quoth she)

My mourning Weedes are done,

And I am readie to put Armour on

King. Belike she minds to play the Amazon. But what said Warwicke to
these iniuries?   Post. He, more incens'd against your Maiestie, Then
all the rest, discharg'd me with these words: Tell him from me, that he
hath done me wrong, And therefore Ile vncrowne him, er't be long

King. Ha? durst the Traytor breath out so prowd words? Well, I will
arme me, being thus fore-warn'd: They shall haue Warres, and pay for
their presumption. But say, is Warwicke friends with Margaret?   Post.
I, gracious Soueraigne,

They are so link'd in friendship,

That yong Prince Edward marryes Warwicks Daughter

Clarence. Belike, the elder;

Clarence will haue the younger.

Now Brother King farewell, and sit you fast, For I will hence to
Warwickes other Daughter, That though I want a Kingdome, yet in
Marriage I may not proue inferior to your selfe.

You that loue me, and Warwicke, follow me.

Exit Clarence, and Somerset followes.

Rich. Not I:

My thoughts ayme at a further matter:

I stay not for the loue of Edward, but the Crowne

King. Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwicke? Yet am I arm'd
against the worst can happen: And haste is needfull in this desp'rate
case. Pembrooke and Stafford, you in our behalfe Goe leuie men, and
make prepare for Warre; They are alreadie, or quickly will be landed:
My selfe in person will straight follow you.

Exeunt. Pembrooke and Stafford.

But ere I goe, Hastings and Mountague

Resolue my doubt: you twaine, of all the rest, Are neere to Warwicke,
by bloud, and by allyance: Tell me, if you loue Warwicke more then me;
If it be so, then both depart to him:

I rather wish you foes, then hollow friends. But if you minde to hold
your true obedience, Giue me assurance with some friendly Vow, That I
may neuer haue you in suspect

Mount. So God helpe Mountague, as hee proues true

Hast. And Hastings, as hee fauours Edwards cause

King. Now, Brother Richard, will you stand by vs?   Rich. I, in
despight of all that shall withstand you

King. Why so: then am I sure of Victorie. Now therefore let vs
hence, and lose no howre, Till wee meet Warwicke, with his forreine
powre.

Exeunt.

Enter Warwicke and Oxford in England, with French Souldiors.

Warw. Trust me, my Lord, all hitherto goes well, The common people by
numbers swarme to vs. Enter Clarence and Somerset.

But see where Somerset and Clarence comes: Speake suddenly, my Lords,
are wee all friends?   Clar. Feare not that, my Lord

Warw. Then gentle Clarence, welcome vnto Warwicke, And welcome
Somerset: I hold it cowardize, To rest mistrustfull, where a Noble
Heart Hath pawn'd an open Hand, in signe of Loue; Else might I thinke,
that Clarence, Edwards Brother, Were but a fained friend to our
proceedings: But welcome sweet Clarence, my Daughter shall be thine.
And now, what rests? but in Nights Couerture, Thy Brother being
carelessely encamp'd,

His Souldiors lurking in the Towne about, And but attended by a simple
Guard,

Wee may surprize and take him at our pleasure, Our Scouts haue found
the aduenture very easie: That as Vlysses, and stout Diomede,

With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus Tents, And brought from thence
the Thracian fatall Steeds; So wee, well couer'd with the Nights black
Mantle, At vnawares may beat downe Edwards Guard, And seize himselfe: I
say not, slaughter him, For I intend but onely to surprize him.

You that will follow me to this attempt,

Applaud the Name of Henry, with your Leader.

They all cry, Henry.

Why then, let's on our way in silent sort, For Warwicke and his
friends, God and Saint George.

Exeunt.

Enter three Watchmen to guard the Kings Tent.

1.Watch. Come on my Masters, each man take his stand, The King by
this, is set him downe to sleepe

2.Watch. What, will he not to Bed?

1.Watch. Why, no: for he hath made a solemne Vow, Neuer to lye and
take his naturall Rest,

Till Warwicke, or himselfe, be quite supprest

2.Watch. To morrow then belike shall be the day, If Warwicke be so
neere as men report

3.Watch. But say, I pray, what Noble man is that, That with the King
here resteth in his Tent?   1.Watch. 'Tis the Lord Hastings, the Kings
chiefest friend

3.Watch. O, is it so? but why commands the King, That his chiefe
followers lodge in Townes about him, While he himselfe keepes in the
cold field?   2.Watch. 'Tis the more honour, because more dangerous

3.Watch. I, but giue me worship, and quietnesse, I like it better
then a dangerous honor.

If Warwicke knew in what estate he stands, 'Tis to be doubted if he
would waken him

1.Watch. Vnlesse our Halberds did shut vp his passage

2.Watch. I: wherefore else guard we his Royall Tent, But to defend
his Person from Night-foes? Enter Warwicke, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset,
and French Souldiors, silent

all.

Warw. This is his Tent, and see where stand his Guard: Courage my
Masters: Honor now, or neuer:

But follow me, and Edward shall be ours

1.Watch. Who goes there?

2.Watch. Stay, or thou dyest.

Warwicke and the rest cry all, Warwicke, Warwicke, and set vpon the

Guard, who flye, crying, Arme, Arme, Warwicke and the rest following
them.

The Drumme playing, and Trumpet sounding. Enter Warwicke, Somerset,
and

the rest, bringing the King out in his Gowne, sitting in a Chaire:
Richard

and Hastings flyes ouer the Stage

Som. What are they that flye there?

Warw. Richard and Hastings: let them goe, heere is the Duke

K.Edw. The Duke?

Why Warwicke, when wee parted,

Thou call'dst me King

Warw. I, but the case is alter'd.

When you disgrac'd me in my Embassade,

Then I degraded you from being King,

And come now to create you Duke of Yorke. Alas, how should you gouerne
any Kingdome, That know not how to vse Embassadors,

Nor how to be contented with one Wife,

Nor how to vse your Brothers Brotherly,

Nor how to studie for the Peoples Welfare, Nor how to shrowd your selfe
from Enemies?   K.Edw. Yea, Brother of Clarence,

Art thou here too?

Nay then I see, that Edward needs must downe. Yet Warwicke, in despight
of all mischance, Of thee thy selfe, and all thy Complices, Edward will
alwayes beare himselfe as King: Though Fortunes mallice ouerthrow my
State, My minde exceedes the compasse of her Wheele

Warw. Then for his minde, be Edward Englands King,

Takes off his Crowne.

But Henry now shall weare the English Crowne, And be true King indeede:
thou but the shadow. My Lord of Somerset, at my request,

See that forthwith Duke Edward be conuey'd Vnto my Brother Arch-Bishop
of Yorke:

When I haue fought with Pembrooke, and his fellowes, Ile follow you,
and tell what answer

Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him.

Now for a-while farewell good Duke of Yorke.

They leade him out forcibly.

K.Ed. What Fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to
resist both winde and tide.

Exeunt.

Oxf. What now remaines my Lords for vs to do, But march to London
with our Soldiers?

War. I, that's the first thing that we haue to do, To free King Henry
from imprisonment,

And see him seated in the Regall Throne.

Enter.

Enter Riuers, and Lady Gray.

Riu. Madam, what makes you in this sodain change?   Gray. Why Brother
Riuers, are you yet to learne What late misfortune is befalne King
Edward?   Riu. What losse of some pitcht battell

Against Warwicke?

Gray. No, but the losse of his owne Royall person

Riu. Then is my Soueraigne slaine?

Gray. I almost slaine, for he is taken prisoner, Either betrayd by
falshood of his Guard,

Or by his Foe surpriz'd at vnawares:

And as I further haue to vnderstand,

Is new committed to the Bishop of Yorke,

Fell Warwickes Brother, and by that our Foe

Riu. These Newes I must confesse are full of greefe, Yet gracious
Madam, beare it as you may,

Warwicke may loose, that now hath wonne the day

Gray. Till then, faire hope must hinder liues decay: And I the
rather waine me from dispaire

For loue of Edwards Off-spring in my wombe: This is it that makes me
bridle passion,

And beare with Mildnesse my misfortunes crosse: I, I, for this I draw
in many a teare,

And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighes, Least with my sighes or
teares, I blast or drowne King Edwards Fruite, true heyre to th'
English Crowne

Riu. But Madam,

Where is Warwicke then become?

Gray. I am inform'd that he comes towards London, To set the Crowne
once more on Henries head, Guesse thou the rest, King Edwards Friends
must downe. But to preuent the Tyrants violence,

(For trust not him that hath once broken Faith) Ile hence forthwith
vnto the Sanctuary,

To saue (at least) the heire of Edwards right: There shall I rest
secure from force and fraud: Come therefore let vs flye, while we may
flye, If Warwicke take vs, we are sure to dye.

Exeunt.

Enter Richard, Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley.

Rich. Now my Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley Leaue off to
wonder why I drew you hither, Into this cheefest Thicket of the Parke.

Thus stand the case: you know our King, my Brother, Is prisoner to the
Bishop here, at whose hands He hath good vsage, and great liberty,

And often but attended with weake guard,

Come hunting this way to disport himselfe. I haue aduertis'd him by
secret meanes,

That if about this houre he make this way, Vnder the colour of his
vsuall game,

He shall heere finde his Friends with Horse and Men, To set him free
from his Captiuitie.

Enter King Edward, and a Huntsman with him.

Huntsman. This way my Lord,

For this way lies the Game

King Edw. Nay this way man,

See where the Huntsmen stand.

Now Brother of Gloster, Lord Hastings, and the rest, Stand you thus
close to steale the Bishops Deere?   Rich. Brother, the time and case,
requireth hast, Your horse stands ready at the Parke-corner

King Ed. But whether shall we then?

Hast. To Lyn my Lord,

And shipt from thence to Flanders

Rich. Wel guest beleeue me, for that was my meaning   K.Ed. Stanley,
I will requite thy forwardnesse

Rich. But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to talke

K.Ed. Huntsman, what say'st thou?

Wilt thou go along?

Hunts. Better do so, then tarry and be hang'd

Rich. Come then away, lets ha no more adoo

K.Ed. Bishop farwell,

Sheeld thee from Warwickes frowne,

And pray that I may re-possesse the Crowne.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter King Henry the sixt, Clarence, Warwicke, Somerset,
young

Henry, Oxford, Mountague, and Lieutenant.

K.Hen. M[aster]. Lieutenant, now that God and Friends Haue shaken
Edward from the Regall seate, And turn'd my captiue state to libertie,

My feare to hope, my sorrowes vnto ioyes, At our enlargement what are
thy due Fees?   Lieu. Subiects may challenge nothing of their Sou'rains
But, if an humble prayer may preuaile,

I then craue pardon of your Maiestie

K.Hen. For what, Lieutenant? For well vsing me? Nay, be thou sure,
Ile well requite thy kindnesse. For that it made my imprisonment, a
pleasure: I, such a pleasure, as incaged Birds

Conceiue; when after many moody Thoughts, At last, by Notes of Houshold
harmonie,

They quite forget their losse of Libertie. But Warwicke, after God,
thou set'st me free, And chiefely therefore, I thanke God, and thee, He
was the Author, thou the Instrument.

Therefore that I may conquer Fortunes spight, By liuing low, where
Fortune cannot hurt me, And that the people of this blessed Land

May not be punisht with my thwarting starres, Warwicke, although my
Head still weare the Crowne, I here resigne my Gouernment to thee,

For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds

Warw. Your Grace hath still beene fam'd for vertuous, And now may
seeme as wise as vertuous,

By spying and auoiding Fortunes malice,

For few men rightly temper with the Starres: Yet in this one thing let
me blame your Grace, For chusing me, when Clarence is in place

Clar. No Warwicke, thou art worthy of the sway, To whom the Heau'ns
in thy Natiuitie,

Adiudg'd an Oliue Branch, and Lawrell Crowne, As likely to be blest in
Peace and Warre: And therefore I yeeld thee my free consent

Warw. And I chuse Clarence onely for Protector

King. Warwick and Clarence, giue me both your Hands: Now ioyne your
Hands, & with your Hands your Hearts, That no dissention hinder
Gouernment:

I make you both Protectors of this Land,

While I my selfe will lead a priuate Life, And in deuotion spend my
latter dayes,

To sinnes rebuke, and my Creators prayse

Warw. What answeres Clarence to his Soueraignes will?

Clar. That he consents, if Warwicke yeeld consent, For on thy fortune
I repose my selfe

Warw. Why then, though loth, yet must I be content: Wee'le yoake
together, like a double shadow To Henries Body, and supply his place;

I meane, in bearing weight of Gouernment, While he enioyes the Honor,
and his ease. And Clarence, now then it is more then needfull,
Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a Traytor, And all his Lands and
Goods confiscate

Clar. What else? and that Succession be determined

Warw. I, therein Clarence shall not want his part

King. But with the first, of all your chiefe affaires, Let me
entreat (for I command no more)

That Margaret your Queene, and my Sonne Edward, Be sent for, to returne
from France with speed: For till I see them here, by doubtfull feare,
My ioy of libertie is halfe eclips'd

Clar. It shall bee done, my Soueraigne, with all speede

King. My Lord of Somerset, what Youth is that, Of whom you seeme to
haue so tender care?   Somers. My Liege, it is young Henry, Earle of
Richmond

King. Come hither, Englands Hope:

Layes his Hand on his Head.

If secret Powers suggest but truth

To my diuining thoughts,

This prettie Lad will proue our Countries blisse. His Lookes are full
of peacefull Maiestie, His Head by nature fram'd to weare a Crowne, His
Hand to wield a Scepter, and himselfe Likely in time to blesse a Regall
Throne: Make much of him, my Lords; for this is hee Must helpe you
more, then you are hurt by mee. Enter a Poste.

Warw. What newes, my friend?

Poste. That Edward is escaped from your Brother, And fled (as hee
heares since) to Burgundie

Warw. Vnsauorie newes: but how made he escape?   Poste. He was
conuey'd by Richard, Duke of Gloster, And the Lord Hastings, who
attended him

In secret ambush, on the Forrest side,

And from the Bishops Huntsmen rescu'd him: For Hunting was his dayly
Exercise

Warw. My Brother was too carelesse of his charge. But let vs hence,
my Soueraigne, to prouide A salue for any sore, that may betide.

Exeunt.

Manet Somerset, Richmond, and Oxford.

Som. My Lord, I like not of this flight of Edwards: For doubtlesse,
Burgundie will yeeld him helpe, And we shall haue more Warres befor't
be long. As Henries late presaging Prophecie

Did glad my heart, with hope of this young Richmond: So doth my heart
mis-giue me, in these Conflicts, What may befall him, to his harme and
ours. Therefore, Lord Oxford, to preuent the worst, Forthwith wee'le
send him hence to Brittanie, Till stormes be past of Ciuill Enmitie

Oxf. I: for if Edward re-possesse the Crowne, 'Tis like that
Richmond, with the rest, shall downe

Som. It shall be so: he shall to Brittanie. Come therefore, let's
about it speedily.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Hastings, and Souldiers.

Edw. Now Brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest, Yet thus farre
Fortune maketh vs amends,

And sayes, that once more I shall enterchange My wained state, for
Henries Regall Crowne. Well haue we pass'd, and now re-pass'd the Seas,
And brought desired helpe from Burgundie. What then remaines, we being
thus arriu'd From Rauenspurre Hauen, before the Gates of Yorke, But
that we enter, as into our Dukedome?

Rich. The Gates made fast?

Brother, I like not this.

For many men that stumble at the Threshold, Are well fore-told, that
danger lurkes within

Edw. Tush man, aboadments must not now affright vs: By faire or
foule meanes we must enter in, For hither will our friends repaire to
vs

Hast. My Liege, Ile knocke once more, to summon them.

Enter on the Walls, the Maior of Yorke, and his Brethren.

Maior. My Lords,

We were fore-warned of your comming,

And shut the Gates, for safetie of our selues; For now we owe
allegeance vnto Henry

Edw. But, Master Maior, if Henry be your King, Yet Edward, at the
least, is Duke of Yorke

Maior. True, my good Lord, I know you for no lesse

Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but my Dukedome, As being well
content with that alone

Rich. But when the Fox hath once got in his Nose, Hee'le soone finde
meanes to make the Body follow

Hast. Why, Master Maior, why stand you in a doubt? Open the Gates,
we are King Henries friends

Maior. I, say you so? the Gates shall then be opened.

He descends.

Rich. A wise stout Captaine, and soone perswaded

Hast. The good old man would faine that all were wel, So 'twere not
long of him: but being entred, I doubt not I, but we shall soone
perswade Both him, and all his Brothers, vnto reason. Enter the Maior,
and two Aldermen.

Edw. So, Master Maior: these Gates must not be shut, But in the
Night, or in the time of Warre. What, feare not man, but yeeld me vp
the Keyes,

Takes his Keyes.

For Edward will defend the Towne, and thee, And all those friends, that
deine to follow mee.

March. Enter Mountgomerie, with Drumme and Souldiers.

Rich. Brother, this is Sir Iohn Mountgomerie, Our trustie friend,
vnlesse I be deceiu'd

Edw. Welcome Sir Iohn: but why come you in Armes?

Mount. To helpe King Edward in his time of storme, As euery loyall
Subiect ought to doe

Edw. Thankes good Mountgomerie:

But we now forget our Title to the Crowne, And onely clayme our
Dukedome,

Till God please to send the rest

Mount. Then fare you well, for I will hence againe, I came to serue
a King, and not a Duke:

Drummer strike vp, and let vs march away.

The Drumme begins to march.

Edw. Nay stay, Sir Iohn, a while, and wee'le debate By what safe
meanes the Crowne may be recouer'd

Mount. What talke you of debating? in few words, If you'le not here
proclaime your selfe our King, Ile leaue you to your fortune, and be
gone, To keepe them back, that come to succour you. Why shall we fight,
if you pretend no Title?   Rich. Why Brother, wherefore stand you on
nice points?

Edw. When wee grow stronger,

Then wee'le make our Clayme:

Till then, 'tis wisdome to conceale our meaning

Hast. Away with scrupulous Wit, now Armes must rule

Rich. And fearelesse minds clyme soonest vnto Crowns. Brother, we
will proclaime you out of hand, The bruit thereof will bring you many
friends

Edw. Then be it as you will: for 'tis my right, And Henry but
vsurpes the Diademe

Mount. I, now my Soueraigne speaketh like himselfe, And now will I
be Edwards Champion

Hast. Sound Trumpet, Edward shal be here proclaim'd: Come, fellow
Souldior, make thou proclamation.

Flourish. Sound.

Soul. Edward the Fourth, by the Grace of God, King of England and
France, and Lord of Ireland, &c

Mount. And whosoe're gainsayes King Edwards right, By this I
challenge him to single fight.

Throwes downe his Gauntlet.

All. Long liue Edward the Fourth

Edw. Thankes braue Mountgomery,

And thankes vnto you all:

If fortune serue me, Ile requite this kindnesse. Now for this Night,
let's harbor here in Yorke: And when the Morning Sunne shall rayse his
Carre Aboue the Border of this Horizon,

Wee'le forward towards Warwicke, and his Mates; For well I wot, that
Henry is no Souldier. Ah froward Clarence, how euill it beseemes thee,
To flatter Henry, and forsake thy Brother? Yet as wee may, wee'le meet
both thee and Warwicke. Come on braue Souldiors: doubt not of the Day,
And that once gotten, doubt not of large Pay.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter the King, Warwicke, Mountague, Clarence, Oxford, and

Somerset.

War. What counsaile, Lords? Edward from Belgia, With hastie Germanes,
and blunt Hollanders, Hath pass'd in safetie through the Narrow Seas,
And with his troupes doth march amaine to London, And many giddie
people flock to him

King. Let's leuie men, and beat him backe againe

Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which being suffer'd,
Riuers cannot quench

War. In Warwickshire I haue true-hearted friends, Not mutinous in
peace, yet bold in Warre, Those will I muster vp: and thou Sonne
Clarence Shalt stirre vp in Suffolke, Norfolke, and in Kent, The
Knights and Gentlemen, to come with thee. Thou Brother Mountague, in
Buckingham,

Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find Men well enclin'd to
heare what thou command'st. And thou, braue Oxford, wondrous well
belou'd, In Oxfordshire shalt muster vp thy friends. My Soueraigne,
with the louing Citizens,

Like to his Iland, gyrt in with the Ocean, Or modest Dyan, circled with
her Nymphs,

Shall rest in London, till we come to him: Faire Lords take leaue, and
stand not to reply. Farewell my Soueraigne

King. Farewell my Hector, and my Troyes true hope

Clar. In signe of truth, I kisse your Highnesse Hand

King. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate

Mount. Comfort, my Lord, and so I take my leaue

Oxf. And thus I seale my truth, and bid adieu

King. Sweet Oxford, and my louing Mountague, And all at once, once
more a happy farewell

War. Farewell, sweet Lords, let's meet at Couentry.

Exeunt.

King. Here at the Pallace will I rest a while. Cousin of Exeter, what
thinkes your Lordship? Me thinkes, the Power that Edward hath in field,
Should not be able to encounter mine

Exet. The doubt is, that he will seduce the rest

King. That's not my feare, my meed hath got me fame: I haue not
stopt mine eares to their demands, Nor posted off their suites with
slow delayes, My pittie hath beene balme to heale their wounds, My
mildnesse hath allay'd their swelling griefes, My mercie dry'd their
water-flowing teares. I haue not been desirous of their wealth, Nor
much opprest them with great Subsidies, Nor forward of reuenge, though
they much err'd. Then why should they loue Edward more then me? No
Exeter, these Graces challenge Grace:

And when the Lyon fawnes vpon the Lambe,

The Lambe will neuer cease to follow him.

Shout within, A Lancaster, A Lancaster.

Exet. Hearke, hearke, my Lord, what Shouts are these?

Enter Edward and his Souldiers.

Edw. Seize on the shamefac'd Henry, beare him hence, And once againe
proclaime vs King of England. You are the Fount, that makes small
Brookes to flow, Now stops thy Spring, my Sea shall suck them dry, And
swell so much the higher, by their ebbe. Hence with him to the Tower,
let him not speake.

Exit with King Henry.

And Lords, towards Couentry bend we our course, Where peremptorie
Warwicke now remaines:

The Sunne shines hot, and if we vse delay, Cold biting Winter marres
our hop'd-for Hay

Rich. Away betimes, before his forces ioyne, And take the
great-growne Traytor vnawares: Braue Warriors, march amaine towards
Couentry.

Exeunt.

Enter Warwicke, the Maior of Couentry, two Messengers, and others vpon
the

Walls.

War. Where is the Post that came from valiant Oxford? How farre hence
is thy Lord, mine honest fellow?   Mess .1. By this at Dunsmore,
marching hitherward

War. How farre off is our Brother Mountague? Where is the Post that
came from Mountague?   Mess. 2. By this at Daintry, with a puissant
troope. Enter Someruile.

War. Say Someruile, what sayes my louing Sonne? And by thy guesse,
how nigh is Clarence now?   Someru. At Southam I did leaue him with his
forces, And doe expect him here some two howres hence

War. Then Clarence is at hand, I heare his Drumme

Someru. It is not his, my Lord, here Southam lyes: The Drum your
Honor heares, marcheth from Warwicke

War. Who should that be? belike vnlook'd for friends

Someru. They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.

March. Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, and Souldiers.

Edw. Goe, Trumpet, to the Walls, and sound a Parle

Rich. See how the surly Warwicke mans the Wall

War. Oh vnbid spight, is sportfull Edward come? Where slept our
Scouts, or how are they seduc'd, That we could heare no newes of his
repayre

Edw. Now Warwicke, wilt thou ope the Citie Gates, Speake gentle
words, and humbly bend thy Knee, Call Edward King, and at his hands
begge Mercy, And he shall pardon thee these Outrages?

War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence, Confesse who set
thee vp, and pluckt thee downe, Call Warwicke Patron, and be penitent,

And thou shalt still remaine the Duke of Yorke

Rich. I thought at least he would haue said the King, Or did he make
the Ieast against his will?   War. Is not a Dukedome, Sir, a goodly
gift?   Rich. I, by my faith, for a poore Earle to giue, Ile doe thee
seruice for so good a gift

War. 'Twas I that gaue the Kingdome to thy Brother

Edw. Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwickes gift

War. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight: And Weakeling,
Warwicke takes his gift againe, And Henry is my King, Warwicke his
Subiect

Edw. But Warwickes King is Edwards Prisoner: And gallant Warwicke,
doe but answer this, What is the Body, when the Head is off?

Rich. Alas, that Warwicke had no more fore-cast, But whiles he
thought to steale the single Ten, The King was slyly finger'd from the
Deck: You left poore Henry at the Bishops Pallace, And tenne to one
you'le meet him in the Tower

Edw. 'Tis euen so, yet you are Warwicke still

Rich. Come Warwicke,

Take the time, kneele downe, kneele downe: Nay when? strike now, or
else the Iron cooles

War. I had rather chop this Hand off at a blow, And with the other,
fling it at thy face, Then beare so low a sayle, to strike to thee

Edw. Sayle how thou canst,

Haue Winde and Tyde thy friend,

This Hand, fast wound about thy coale-black hayre, Shall, whiles thy
Head is warme, and new cut off, Write in the dust this Sentence with
thy blood, Wind-changing Warwicke now can change no more. Enter Oxford,
with Drumme and Colours.

War. Oh chearefull Colours, see where Oxford comes

Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster

Rich. The Gates are open, let vs enter too

Edw. So other foes may set vpon our backs. Stand we in good array:
for they no doubt Will issue out againe, and bid vs battaile; If not,
the Citie being but of small defence, Wee'le quickly rowze the Traitors
in the same

War. Oh welcome Oxford, for we want thy helpe. Enter Mountague, with
Drumme and Colours.

Mount. Mountague, Mountague, for Lancaster

Rich. Thou and thy Brother both shall buy this Treason Euen with the
dearest blood your bodies beare

Edw. The harder matcht, the greater Victorie, My minde presageth
happy gaine, and Conquest. Enter Somerset, with Drumme and Colours.

Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster

Rich. Two of thy Name, both Dukes of Somerset, Haue sold their Liues
vnto the House of Yorke, And thou shalt be the third, if this Sword
hold. Enter Clarence, with Drumme and Colours.

War. And loe, where George of Clarence sweepes along, Of force enough
to bid his Brother Battaile: With whom, in vpright zeale to right,
preuailes More then the nature of a Brothers Loue.

Come Clarence, come: thou wilt, if Warwicke call

Clar. Father of Warwicke, know you what this meanes? Looke here, I
throw my infamie at thee:

I will not ruinate my Fathers House,

Who gaue his blood to lyme the stones together, And set vp Lancaster.
Why, trowest thou, Warwicke, That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt,
vnnaturall, To bend the fatall Instruments of Warre

Against his Brother, and his lawfull King. Perhaps thou wilt obiect my
holy Oath:

To keepe that Oath, were more impietie,

Then Iephah, when he sacrific'd his Daughter. I am so sorry for my
Trespas made,

That to deserue well at my Brothers hands, I here proclayme my selfe
thy mortall foe: With resolution, wheresoe're I meet thee, (As I will
meet thee, if thou stirre abroad) To plague thee, for thy foule
mis-leading me. And so, prowd-hearted Warwicke, I defie thee, And to my
Brother turne my blushing Cheekes. Pardon me Edward, I will make
amends:

And Richard, doe not frowne vpon my faults, For I will henceforth be no
more vnconstant

Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more belou'd, Then if thou
neuer hadst deseru'd our hate

Rich. Welcome good Clarence, this is Brother-like

Warw. Oh passing Traytor, periur'd and vniust

Edw. What Warwicke,

Wilt thou leaue the Towne, and fight?

Or shall we beat the Stones about thine Eares?   Warw. Alas, I am not
coop'd here for defence: I will away towards Barnet presently,

And bid thee Battaile, Edward, if thou dar'st

Edw. Yes Warwicke, Edward dares, and leads the way: Lords to the
field: Saint George, and Victorie.

Exeunt.

March. Warwicke and his companie followes.

Alarum, and Excursions. Enter Edward bringing forth Warwicke wounded.

Edw. So, lye thou there: dye thou, and dye our feare, For Warwicke
was a Bugge that fear'd vs all. Now Mountague sit fast, I seeke for
thee, That Warwickes Bones may keepe thine companie. Enter.

Warw. Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend, or foe, And tell me who is
Victor, Yorke, or Warwicke? Why aske I that? my mangled body shewes,

My blood, my want of strength, my sicke heart shewes, That I must yeeld
my body to the Earth,

And by my fall, the conquest to my foe.

Thus yeelds the Cedar to the Axes edge,

Whose Armes gaue shelter to the Princely Eagle, Vnder whose shade the
ramping Lyon slept, Whose top-branch ouer-peer'd Ioues spreading Tree,
And kept low Shrubs from Winters pow'rfull Winde. These Eyes, that now
are dim'd with Deaths black Veyle, Haue beene as piercing as the
Mid-day Sunne, To search the secret Treasons of the World: The
Wrinckles in my Browes, now fill'd with blood, Were lik'ned oft to
Kingly Sepulchers:

For who liu'd King, but I could digge his Graue? And who durst smile,
when Warwicke bent his Brow? Loe, now my Glory smear'd in dust and
blood. My Parkes, my Walkes, my Mannors that I had, Euen now forsake
me; and of all my Lands, Is nothing left me, but my bodies length. Why,
what is Pompe, Rule, Reigne, but Earth and Dust? And liue we how we
can, yet dye we must.

Enter Oxford and Somerset.

Som. Ah Warwicke, Warwicke, wert thou as we are, We might recouer all
our Losse againe:

The Queene from France hath brought a puissant power. Euen now we heard
the newes: ah, could'st thou flye

Warw. Why then I would not flye. Ah Mountague, If thou be there,
sweet Brother, take my Hand, And with thy Lippes keepe in my Soule a
while. Thou lou'st me not: for, Brother, if thou did'st, Thy teares
would wash this cold congealed blood, That glewes my Lippes, and will
not let me speake. Come quickly Mountague, or I am dead

Som. Ah Warwicke, Mountague hath breath'd his last, And to the
latest gaspe, cry'd out for Warwicke: And said, Commend me to my
valiant Brother. And more he would haue said, and more he spoke, Which
sounded like a Cannon in a Vault,

That mought not be distinguisht: but at last, I well might heare,
deliuered with a groane, Oh farewell Warwicke

Warw. Sweet rest his Soule:

Flye Lords, and saue your selues,

For Warwicke bids you all farewell, to meet in Heauen

Oxf. Away, away, to meet the Queenes great power.

Here they beare away his Body. Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Richard, Clarence, and
the

rest.

King. Thus farre our fortune keepes an vpward course, And we are
grac'd with wreaths of Victorie: But in the midst of this
bright-shining Day, I spy a black suspicious threatning Cloud, That
will encounter with our glorious Sunne, Ere he attaine his easefull
Westerne Bed: I meane, my Lords, those powers that the Queene Hath
rays'd in Gallia, haue arriued our Coast, And, as we heare, march on to
fight with vs

Clar. A little gale will soone disperse that Cloud, And blow it to
the Source from whence it came, Thy very Beames will dry those Vapours
vp, For euery Cloud engenders not a Storme

Rich. The Queene is valued thirtie thousand strong, And Somerset,
with Oxford, fled to her:

If she haue time to breathe, be well assur'd Her faction will be full
as strong as ours

King. We are aduertis'd by our louing friends, That they doe hold
their course toward Tewksbury. We hauing now the best at Barnet field,

Will thither straight, for willingnesse rids way, And as we march, our
strength will be augmented: In euery Countie as we goe along,

Strike vp the Drumme, cry courage, and away.

Exeunt.

Flourish. March. Enter the Queene, young Edward, Somerset, Oxford, and

Souldiers.

Qu. Great Lords, wise men ne'r sit and waile their losse, But
chearely seeke how to redresse their harmes. What though the Mast be
now blowne ouer-boord, The Cable broke, the holding-Anchor lost, And
halfe our Saylors swallow'd in the flood? Yet liues our Pilot still.
Is't meet, that hee Should leaue the Helme, and like a fearefull Lad,
With tearefull Eyes adde Water to the Sea, And giue more strength to
that which hath too much, Whiles in his moane, the Ship splits on the
Rock, Which Industrie and Courage might haue sau'd? Ah what a shame, ah
what a fault were this. Say Warwicke was our Anchor: what of that? And
Mountague our Top-Mast: what of him?

Our slaught'red friends, the Tackles: what of these? Why is not Oxford
here, another Anchor?

And Somerset, another goodly Mast?

The friends of France our Shrowds and Tacklings? And though vnskilfull,
why not Ned and I, For once allow'd the skilfull Pilots Charge? We will
not from the Helme, to sit and weepe, But keepe our Course (though the
rough Winde say no) From Shelues and Rocks, that threaten vs with
Wrack. As good to chide the Waues, as speake them faire. And what is
Edward, but a ruthlesse Sea?

What Clarence, but a Quick-sand of Deceit? And Richard, but a raged
fatall Rocke?

All these, the Enemies to our poore Barke. Say you can swim, alas 'tis
but a while:

Tread on the Sand, why there you quickly sinke, Bestride the Rock, the
Tyde will wash you off, Or else you famish, that's a three-fold Death.
This speake I (Lords) to let you vnderstand, If case some one of you
would flye from vs, That there's no hop'd-for Mercy with the Brothers,
More then with ruthlesse Waues, with Sands and Rocks. Why courage then,
what cannot be auoided, 'Twere childish weakenesse to lament, or feare

Prince. Me thinkes a Woman of this valiant Spirit, Should, if a
Coward heard her speake these words, Infuse his Breast with
Magnanimitie,

And make him, naked, foyle a man at Armes. I speake not this, as
doubting any here:

For did I but suspect a fearefull man,

He should haue leaue to goe away betimes, Least in our need he might
infect another, And make him of like spirit to himselfe.

If any such be here, as God forbid,

Let him depart, before we neede his helpe

Oxf. Women and Children of so high a courage, And Warriors faint,
why 'twere perpetuall shame. Oh braue young Prince: thy famous
Grandfather Doth liue againe in thee; long may'st thou liue, To beare
his Image, and renew his Glories

Som. And he that will not fight for such a hope, Goe home to Bed,
and like the Owle by day, If he arise, be mock'd and wondred at

Qu. Thankes gentle Somerset, sweet Oxford thankes

Prince. And take his thankes, that yet hath nothing else.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Prepare you Lords, for Edward is at hand, Readie to fight:
therefore be resolute

Oxf. I thought no lesse: it is his Policie, To haste thus fast, to
finde vs vnprouided

Som. But hee's deceiu'd, we are in readinesse

Qu. This cheares my heart, to see your forwardnesse

Oxf. Here pitch our Battaile, hence we will not budge.

Flourish, and march. Enter Edward, Richard, Clarence, and Souldiers.

Edw. Braue followers, yonder stands the thornie Wood, Which by the
Heauens assistance, and your strength, Must by the Roots be hew'ne vp
yet ere Night. I need not adde more fuell to your fire,

For well I wot, ye blaze, to burne them out: Giue signall to the fight,
and to it Lords

Qu. Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I should say, My teares
gaine-say: for euery word I speake, Ye see I drinke the water of my
eye.

Therefore no more but this: Henry your Soueraigne Is Prisoner to the
Foe, his State vsurp'd, His Realme a slaughter-house, his Subiects
slaine, His Statutes cancell'd, and his Treasure spent: And yonder is
the Wolfe, that makes this spoyle. You fight in Iustice: then in Gods
Name, Lords, Be valiant, and giue signall to the fight.

Alarum, Retreat, Excursions. Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Queene, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset.

Edw. Now here a period of tumultuous Broyles. Away with Oxford, to
Hames Castle straight: For Somerset, off with his guiltie Head.

Goe beare them hence, I will not heare them speake

Oxf. For my part, Ile not trouble thee with words

Som. Nor I, but stoupe with patience to my fortune.

Exeunt.

Qu. So part we sadly in this troublous World, To meet with Ioy in
sweet Ierusalem

Edw. Is Proclamation made, That who finds Edward, Shall haue a high
Reward, and he his Life?   Rich. It is, and loe where youthfull Edward
comes. Enter the Prince.

Edw. Bring forth the Gallant, let vs heare him speake. What? can so
young a Thorne begin to prick? Edward, what satisfaction canst thou
make, For bearing Armes, for stirring vp my Subiects, And all the
trouble thou hast turn'd me to?   Prince. Speake like a Subiect, prowd
ambitious Yorke. Suppose that I am now my Fathers Mouth,

Resigne thy Chayre, and where I stand, kneele thou, Whil'st I propose
the selfe-same words to thee, Which (Traytor) thou would'st haue me
answer to

Qu. Ah, that thy Father had beene so resolu'd

Rich. That you might still haue worne the Petticoat, And ne're haue
stolne the Breech from Lancaster

Prince. Let Aesop fable in a Winters Night, His Currish Riddles
sorts not with this place

Rich. By Heauen, Brat, Ile plague ye for that word

Qu. I, thou wast borne to be a plague to men

Rich. For Gods sake, take away this Captiue Scold

Prince. Nay, take away this scolding Crooke-backe, rather

Edw. Peace wilfull Boy, or I will charme your tongue

Clar. Vntutor'd Lad, thou art too malapert

Prince. I know my dutie, you are all vndutifull: Lasciuious Edward,
and thou periur'd George, And thou mis-shapen Dicke, I tell ye all, I
am your better, Traytors as ye are,

And thou vsurp'st my Fathers right and mine

Edw. Take that, the likenesse of this Rayler here.

Stabs him.

Rich. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agonie.

Rich[ard]. stabs him.

Clar. And ther's for twitting me with periurie.

Clar[ence]. stabs him.

Qu. Oh, kill me too

Rich. Marry, and shall.

Offers to kill her.

Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we haue done too much

Rich. Why should shee liue, to fill the World with words

Edw. What? doth shee swowne? vse meanes for her recouerie

Rich. Clarence excuse me to the King my Brother: Ile hence to London
on a serious matter,

Ere ye come there, be sure to heare some newes

Cla. What? what?

Rich. Tower, the Tower.

Enter.

Qu. Oh Ned, sweet Ned, speake to thy Mother Boy. Can'st thou not
speake? O Traitors, Murtherers! They that stabb'd Csar, shed no blood
at all: Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame, If this foule deed
were by, to equall it. He was a Man; this (in respect) a Childe, And
Men, ne're spend their fury on a Childe. What's worse then Murtherer,
that I may name it? No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speake, And I
will speake, that so my heart may burst. Butchers and Villaines, bloudy
Caniballes, How sweet a Plant haue you vntimely cropt: You haue no
children (Butchers) if you had, The thought of them would haue stirr'd
vp remorse, But if you euer chance to haue a Childe,

Looke in his youth to haue him so cut off. As deathsmen you haue rid
this sweet yong Prince

King. Away with her, go beare her hence perforce

Qu. Nay, neuer beare me hence, dispatch me heere: Here sheath thy
Sword, Ile pardon thee my death: What? wilt thou not? Then Clarence do
it thou

Cla. By heauen, I will not do thee so much ease

Qu. Good Clarence do: sweet Clarence do thou do it

Cla. Did'st thou not heare me sweare I would not do it?   Qu. I, but
thou vsest to forsweare thy selfe. 'Twas Sin before, but now 'tis
Charity

What wilt y not? Where is that diuels butcher Richard? Hard fauor'd
Richard? Richard, where art thou? Thou art not heere; Murther is thy
Almes-deed: Petitioners for Blood, thou ne're put'st backe

Ed. Away I say, I charge ye beare her hence,   Qu. So come to you,
and yours, as to this Prince.

Exit Queene.

Ed. Where's Richard gone

Cla. To London all in post, and as I guesse, To make a bloody Supper
in the Tower

Ed. He's sodaine if a thing comes in his head. Now march we hence,
discharge the common sort With Pay and Thankes, and let's away to
London, And see our gentle Queene how well she fares, By this (I hope)
she hath a Sonne for me. Enter.

Enter Henry the sixt, and Richard, with the Lieutenant on the Walles.

Rich. Good day, my Lord, what at your Booke so hard?

Hen. I my good Lord: my Lord I should say rather, Tis sinne to
flatter, Good was little better: 'Good Gloster, and good Deuill, were
alike, And both preposterous: therefore, not Good Lord

Rich. Sirra, leaue vs to our selues, we must conferre

Hen. So flies the wreaklesse shepherd from y Wolfe: So first the
harmlesse Sheepe doth yeeld his Fleece, And next his Throate, vnto the
Butchers Knife. What Scene of death hath Rossius now to Acte?   Rich.
Suspition alwayes haunts the guilty minde, The Theefe doth feare each
bush an Officer,   Hen. The Bird that hath bin limed in a bush, With
trembling wings misdoubteth euery bush; And I the haplesse Male to one
sweet Bird, Haue now the fatall Obiect in my eye,

Where my poore yong was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd

Rich. Why what a peeuish Foole was that of Creet, That taught his
Sonne the office of a Fowle, And yet for all his wings, the Foole was
drown'd

Hen. I Dedalus, my poore Boy Icarus,

Thy Father Minos, that deni'de our course, The Sunne that sear'd the
wings of my sweet Boy. Thy Brother Edward, and thy Selfe, the Sea Whose
enuious Gulfe did swallow vp his life: Ah, kill me with thy Weapon, not
with words, My brest can better brooke thy Daggers point, Then can my
eares that Tragicke History.

But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my Life?   Rich. Think'st thou I
am an Executioner?   Hen. A Persecutor I am sure thou art,

If murthering Innocents be Executing,

Why then thou art an Executioner

Rich. Thy Son I kill'd for his presumption

Hen. Hadst thou bin kill'd, when first y didst presume, Thou had'st
not liu'd to kill a Sonne of mine: And thus I prophesie, that many a
thousand, Which now mistrust no parcell of my feare, And many an old
mans sighe, and many a Widdowes, And many an Orphans
water-standing-eye,

Men for their Sonnes, Wiues for their Husbands, Orphans, for their
Parents timeles death, Shall rue the houre that euer thou was't borne.
The Owle shriek'd at thy birth, an euill signe, The Night-Crow cry'de,
aboding lucklesse time, Dogs howl'd, and hiddeous Tempest shook down
Trees: The Rauen rook'd her on the Chimnies top, And chatt'ring Pies in
dismall Discords sung: Thy Mother felt more then a Mothers paine, And
yet brought forth lesse then a Mothers hope, To wit, an indigested and
deformed lumpe, Not like the fruit of such a goodly Tree. Teeth had'st
thou in thy head, when thou was't borne, To signifie, thou cam'st to
bite the world: And if the rest be true, which I haue heard, Thou
cam'st-

Rich. Ile heare no more:

Dye Prophet in thy speech,

Stabbes him.

For this (among'st the rest) was I ordain'd

Hen. I, and for much more slaughter after this, O God forgiue my
sinnes, and pardon thee.

Dyes.

Rich. What? will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sinke in the ground?
I thought it would haue mounted. See how my sword weepes for the poore
Kings death. O may such purple teares be alway shed

From those that wish the downfall of our house. If any sparke of Life
be yet remaining,

Downe, downe to hell, and say I sent thee thither.

Stabs him againe.

I that haue neyther pitty, loue, nor feare, Indeed 'tis true that
Henrie told me of:

For I haue often heard my Mother say,

I came into the world with my Legges forward. Had I not reason (thinke
ye) to make hast, And seeke their Ruine, that vsurp'd our Right? The
Midwife wonder'd, and the Women cri'de O Iesus blesse vs, he is borne
with teeth, And so I was, which plainly signified,

That I should snarle, and bite, and play the dogge: Then since the
Heauens haue shap'd my Body so, Let Hell make crook'd my Minde to
answer it. I haue no Brother, I am like no Brother:

And this word (Loue) which Gray-beards call Diuine, Be resident in men
like one another,

And not in me: I am my selfe alone.

Clarence beware, thou keept'st me from the Light, But I will sort a
pitchy day for thee:

For I will buzze abroad such Prophesies,

That Edward shall be fearefull of his life, And then to purge his
feare, Ile be thy death. King Henry, and the Prince his Son are gone,
Clarence thy turne is next, and then the rest, Counting my selfe but
bad, till I be best. Ile throw thy body in another roome,

And Triumph Henry, in thy day of Doome.

Enter.

Flourish. Enter King, Queene, Clarence, Richard, Hastings, Nurse, and

Attendants.

King. Once more we sit in Englands Royall Throne, Re-purchac'd with
the Blood of Enemies:

What valiant Foe-men, like to Autumnes Corne, Haue we mow'd downe in
tops of all their pride? Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold Renowne,
For hardy and vndoubted Champions:

Two Cliffords, as the Father and the Sonne, And two Northumberlands:
two brauer men,

Ne're spurr'd their Coursers at the Trumpets sound. With them, the two
braue Beares, Warwick & Montague, That in their Chaines fetter'd the
Kingly Lyon, And made the Forrest tremble when they roar'd. Thus haue
we swept Suspition from our Seate, And made our Footstoole of
Security.

Come hither Besse, and let me kisse my Boy: Yong Ned, for thee, thine
Vnckles, and my selfe, Haue in our Armors watcht the Winters night,
Went all afoote in Summers scalding heate, That thou might'st
repossesse the Crowne in peace, And of our Labours thou shalt reape the
gaine

Rich. Ile blast his Haruest, if your head were laid, For yet I am
not look'd on in the world.

This shoulder was ordain'd so thicke, to heaue, And heaue it shall some
waight, or breake my backe, Worke thou the way, and that shalt execute

King. Clarence and Gloster, loue my louely Queene, And kis your
Princely Nephew Brothers both

Cla. The duty that I owe vnto your Maiesty, I Seale vpon the lips of
this sweet Babe

Cla. Thanke Noble Clarence, worthy brother thanks

Rich. And that I loue the tree fro[m] whence y sprang'st: Witnesse
the louing kisse I giue the Fruite, To say the truth, so Iudas kist his
master, And cried all haile, when as he meant all harme

King. Now am I seated as my soule delights, Hauing my Countries
peace, and Brothers loues

Cla. What will your Grace haue done with Margaret, Reynard her
Father, to the King of France Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Ierusalem,

And hither haue they sent it for her ransome

King. Away with her, and waft her hence to France: And now what
rests, but that we spend the time With stately Triumphes, mirthfull
Comicke shewes, Such as befits the pleasure of the Court. Sound Drums
and Trumpets, farwell sowre annoy, For heere I hope begins our lasting
ioy.

Exeunt. omnes

FINIS. The third Part of Henry the Sixt, with the death of the Duke of

YORKE.



The Tragedie of Richard the Third

with the Landing of Earle Richmond, and the Battell at Bosworth Field

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Richard Duke of Gloster, solus.

Now is the Winter of our Discontent,

Made glorious Summer by this Son of Yorke: And all the clouds that
lowr'd vpon our house In the deepe bosome of the Ocean buried.

Now are our browes bound with Victorious Wreathes, Our bruised armes
hung vp for Monuments;

Our sterne Alarums chang'd to merry Meetings; Our dreadfull Marches, to
delightfull Measures. Grim-visag'd Warre, hath smooth'd his wrinkled
Front: And now, in stead of mounting Barbed Steeds, To fright the
Soules of fearfull Aduersaries, He capers nimbly in a Ladies Chamber,

To the lasciuious pleasing of a Lute.

But I, that am not shap'd for sportiue trickes, Nor made to court an
amorous Looking-glasse: I, that am Rudely stampt, and want loues
Maiesty, To strut before a wonton ambling Nymph:

I, that am curtail'd of this faire Proportion, Cheated of Feature by
dissembling Nature, Deform'd, vn-finish'd, sent before my time Into
this breathing World, scarse halfe made vp, And that so lamely and
vnfashionable,

That dogges barke at me, as I halt by them. Why I (in this weake piping
time of Peace) Haue no delight to passe away the time,

Vnlesse to see my Shadow in the Sunne,

And descant on mine owne Deformity.

And therefore, since I cannot proue a Louer, To entertaine these faire
well spoken dayes, I am determined to proue a Villaine,

And hate the idle pleasures of these dayes. Plots haue I laide,
Inductions dangerous, By drunken Prophesies, Libels, and Dreames, To
set my Brother Clarence and the King

In deadly hate, the one against the other: And if King Edward be as
true and iust,

As I am Subtle, False, and Treacherous,

This day should Clarence closely be mew'd vp: About a Prophesie, which
sayes that G,

Of Edwards heyres the murtherer shall be. Diue thoughts downe to my
soule, here Clarence comes. Enter Clarence, and Brakenbury, guarded.

Brother, good day: What meanes this armed guard That waites vpon your
Grace?

Cla. His Maiesty tendring my persons safety, Hath appointed this
Conduct, to conuey me to th' Tower   Rich. Vpon what cause?

Cla. Because my name is George

Rich. Alacke my Lord, that fault is none of yours: He should for
that commit your Godfathers. O belike, his Maiesty hath some intent,

That you should be new Christned in the Tower, But what's the matter
Clarence, may I know?   Cla. Yea Richard, when I know: but I protest As
yet I do not: But as I can learne,

He hearkens after Prophesies and Dreames, And from the Crosse-row
pluckes the letter G: And sayes, a Wizard told him, that by G,

His issue disinherited should be.

And for my name of George begins with G,

It followes in his thought, that I am he. These (as I learne) and such
like toyes as these, Hath moou'd his Highnesse to commit me now

Rich. Why this it is, when men are rul'd by Women: 'Tis not the King
that sends you to the Tower, My Lady Grey his Wife, Clarence 'tis shee,
That tempts him to this harsh Extremity.

Was it not shee, and that good man of Worship, Anthony Woodeuile her
Brother there,

That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower? From whence this present
day he is deliuered? We are not safe Clarence, we are not safe

Cla. By heauen, I thinke there is no man secure But the Queenes
Kindred, and night-walking Heralds, That trudge betwixt the King, and
Mistris Shore. Heard you not what an humble Suppliant

Lord Hastings was, for her deliuery?

Rich. Humbly complaining to her Deitie, Got my Lord Chamberlaine his
libertie.

Ile tell you what, I thinke it is our way, If we will keepe in fauour
with the King, To be her men, and weare her Liuery.

The iealous ore-worne Widdow, and her selfe, Since that our Brother
dub'd them Gentlewomen, Are mighty Gossips in our Monarchy

Bra. I beseech your Graces both to pardon me, His Maiesty hath
straightly giuen in charge, That no man shall haue priuate Conference
(Of what degree soeuer) with your Brother

Rich. Euen so, and please your Worship Brakenbury, You may partake
of any thing we say:

We speake no Treason man; We say the King Is wise and vertuous, and his
Noble Queene Well strooke in yeares, faire, and not iealious. We say,
that Shores Wife hath a pretty Foot, A cherry Lip, a bonny Eye, a
passing pleasing tongue: And that the Queenes Kindred are made gentle
Folkes. How say you sir? can you deny all this?

Bra. With this (my Lord) my selfe haue nought to doo

Rich. Naught to do with Mistris Shore? I tell thee Fellow, he that
doth naught with her (Excepting one) were best to do it secretly alone

Bra. What one, my Lord?

Rich. Her Husband Knaue, would'st thou betray me?   Bra. I do beseech
your Grace

To pardon me, and withall forbeare

Your Conference with the Noble Duke

Cla. We know thy charge Brakenbury, and wil obey

Rich. We are the Queenes abiects, and must obey. Brother farewell, I
will vnto the King,

And whatsoe're you will imploy me in,

Were it to call King Edwards Widdow, Sister, I will performe it to
infranchise you.

Meane time, this deepe disgrace in Brotherhood, Touches me deeper then
you can imagine

Cla. I know it pleaseth neither of vs well

Rich. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long, I will deliuer you,
or else lye for you:

Meane time, haue patience

Cla. I must perforce: Farewell.

Exit Clar[ence].

Rich. Go treade the path that thou shalt ne're return: Simple plaine
Clarence, I do loue thee so, That I will shortly send thy Soule to
Heauen, If Heauen will take the present at our hands. But who comes
heere? the new deliuered Hastings? Enter Lord Hastings.

Hast. Good time of day vnto my gracious Lord

Rich. As much vnto my good Lord Chamberlaine: Well are you welcome
to this open Ayre,

How hath your Lordship brook'd imprisonment?   Hast. With patience
(Noble Lord) as prisoners must: But I shall liue (my Lord) to giue them
thankes That were the cause of my imprisonment

Rich. No doubt, no doubt, and so shall Clarence too, For they that
were your Enemies, are his, And haue preuail'd as much on him, as you,
Hast. More pitty, that the Eagles should be mew'd, Whiles Kites and
Buzards play at liberty

Rich. What newes abroad?

Hast. No newes so bad abroad, as this at home: The King is sickly,
weake, and melancholly, And his Physitians feare him mightily

Rich. Now by S[aint]. Iohn, that Newes is bad indeed. O he hath kept
an euill Diet long,

And ouer-much consum'd his Royall Person: 'Tis very greeuous to be
thought vpon.

Where is he, in his bed?

Hast. He is

Rich. Go you before, and I will follow you.

Exit Hastings.

He cannot liue I hope, and must not dye,

Till George be pack'd with post-horse vp to Heauen. Ile in to vrge his
hatred more to Clarence, With Lyes well steel'd with weighty Arguments,
And if I faile not in my deepe intent,

Clarence hath not another day to liue:

Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy, And leaue the world for
me to bussle in.

For then, Ile marry Warwickes yongest daughter. What though I kill'd
her Husband, and her Father, The readiest way to make the Wench amends,
Is to become her Husband, and her Father: The which will I, not all so
much for loue, As for another secret close intent,

By marrying her, which I must reach vnto. But yet I run before my horse
to Market:

Clarence still breathes, Edward still liues and raignes, When they are
gone, then must I count my gaines.

Exit



Scena Secunda.

Enter the Coarse of Henrie the sixt with Halberds to guard it, Lady
Anne

being the Mourner.

Anne. Set downe, set downe your honourable load, If Honor may be
shrowded in a Herse;

Whil'st I a-while obsequiously lament

Th' vntimely fall of Vertuous Lancaster.

Poore key-cold Figure of a holy King,

Pale Ashes of the House of Lancaster;

Thou bloodlesse Remnant of that Royall Blood, Be it lawfull that I
inuocate thy Ghost,

To heare the Lamentations of poore Anne,

Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtred Sonne, Stab'd by the selfesame
hand that made these wounds. Loe, in these windowes that let forth thy
life, I powre the helplesse Balme of my poore eyes. O cursed be the
hand that made these holes: Cursed the Heart, that had the heart to do
it: Cursed the Blood, that let this blood from hence: More direfull hap
betide that hated Wretch That makes vs wretched by the death of thee,
Then I can wish to Wolues, to Spiders, Toades, Or any creeping venom'd
thing that liues. If euer he haue Childe, Abortiue be it,

Prodigeous, and vntimely brought to light, Whose vgly and vnnaturall
Aspect

May fright the hopefull Mother at the view, And that be Heyre to his
vnhappinesse.

If euer he haue Wife, let her be made

More miserable by the death of him,

Then I am made by my young Lord, and thee. Come now towards Chertsey
with your holy Lode, Taken from Paules, to be interred there.

And still as you are weary of this waight, Rest you, whiles I lament
King Henries Coarse. Enter Richard Duke of Gloster.

Rich. Stay you that beare the Coarse, & set it down

An. What blacke Magitian coniures vp this Fiend, To stop deuoted
charitable deeds?

Rich. Villaines set downe the Coarse, or by S[aint]. Paul, Ile make a
Coarse of him that disobeyes

Gen. My Lord stand backe, and let the Coffin passe

Rich. Vnmanner'd Dogge,

Stand'st thou when I commaund:

Aduance thy Halbert higher then my brest, Or by S[aint]. Paul Ile
strike thee to my Foote, And spurne vpon thee Begger for thy boldnesse

Anne. What do you tremble? are you all affraid? Alas, I blame you
not, for you are Mortall, And Mortall eyes cannot endure the Diuell.
Auant thou dreadfull minister of Hell;

Thou had'st but power ouer his Mortall body, His Soule thou canst not
haue: Therefore be gone

Rich. Sweet Saint, for Charity, be not so curst

An. Foule Diuell,

For Gods sake hence, and trouble vs not,

For thou hast made the happy earth thy Hell: Fill'd it with cursing
cries, and deepe exclaimes: If thou delight to view thy heynous deeds,
Behold this patterne of thy Butcheries.

Oh Gentlemen, see, see dead Henries wounds, Open their congeal'd
mouthes, and bleed afresh. Blush, blush, thou lumpe of fowle
Deformitie: For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and
empty Veines where no blood dwels. Thy Deeds inhumane and vnnaturall,

Prouokes this Deluge most vnnaturall.

O God! which this Blood mad'st, reuenge his death: O Earth! which this
Blood drink'st, reuenge his death. Either Heau'n with Lightning strike
the murth'rer dead: Or Earth gape open wide, and eate him quicke, As
thou dost swallow vp this good Kings blood, Which his Hell-gouern'd
arme hath butchered

Rich. Lady, you know no Rules of Charity, Which renders good for
bad, Blessings for Curses

An. Villaine, thou know'st nor law of God nor Man, No Beast so
fierce, but knowes some touch of pitty

Rich. But I know none, and therefore am no Beast

An. O wonderfull, when diuels tell the truth!   Rich. More
wonderfull, when Angels are so angry: Vouchsafe (diuine perfection of a
Woman)

Of these supposed Crimes, to giue me leaue By circumstance, but to
acquit my selfe

An. Vouchsafe (defus'd infection of man) Of these knowne euils, but
to giue me leaue By circumstance, to curse thy cursed Selfe

Rich. Fairer then tongue can name thee, let me haue Some patient
leysure to excuse my selfe

An. Fouler then heart can thinke thee, Thou can'st make no excuse
currant,

But to hang thy selfe

Rich. By such dispaire, I should accuse my selfe

An. And by dispairing shalt thou stand excused, For doing worthy
Vengeance on thy selfe,

That did'st vnworthy slaughter vpon others

Rich. Say that I slew them not

An. Then say they were not slaine:

But dead they are, and diuellish slaue by thee

Rich. I did not kill your Husband

An. Why then he is aliue

Rich. Nay, he is dead, and slaine by Edwards hands

An. In thy foule throat thou Ly'st,

Queene Margaret saw

Thy murd'rous Faulchion smoaking in his blood: The which, thou once
didd'st bend against her brest, But that thy Brothers beate aside the
point

Rich. I was prouoked by her sland'rous tongue, That laid their
guilt, vpon my guiltlesse Shoulders

An. Thou was't prouoked by thy bloody minde, That neuer dream'st on
ought but Butcheries: Did'st thou not kill this King?

Rich. I graunt ye

An. Do'st grant me Hedge-hogge,

Then God graunt me too

Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deede, O he was gentle, milde,
and vertuous

Rich. The better for the King of heauen that hath him

An. He is in heauen, where thou shalt neuer come

Rich. Let him thanke me, that holpe to send him thither: For he was
fitter for that place then earth

An. And thou vnfit for any place, but hell

Rich. Yes one place else, if you will heare me name it

An. Some dungeon

Rich. Your Bed-chamber

An. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou lyest

Rich. So will it Madam, till I lye with you

An. I hope so

Rich. I know so. But gentle Lady Anne, To leaue this keene encounter
of our wittes, And fall something into a slower method.

Is not the causer of the timelesse deaths Of these Plantagenets, Henrie
and Edward, As blamefull as the Executioner

An. Thou was't the cause, and most accurst effect

Rich. Your beauty was the cause of that effect: Your beauty, that
did haunt me in my sleepe, To vndertake the death of all the world,

So I might liue one houre in your sweet bosome

An. If I thought that, I tell thee Homicide, These Nailes should
rent that beauty from my Cheekes

Rich. These eyes could not endure y beauties wrack, You should not
blemish it, if I stood by; As all the world is cheared by the Sunne, So
I by that: It is my day, my life

An. Blacke night ore-shade thy day, & death thy life

Rich. Curse not thy selfe faire Creature, Thou art both

An. I would I were, to be reueng'd on thee

Rich. It is a quarrell most vnnaturall, To be reueng'd on him that
loueth thee

An. It is a quarrell iust and reasonable, To be reueng'd on him that
kill'd my Husband

Rich. He that bereft the Lady of thy Husband, Did it to helpe thee
to a better Husband

An. His better doth not breath vpon the earth

Rich. He liues, that loues thee better then he could

An. Name him

Rich. Plantagenet

An. Why that was he

Rich. The selfesame name, but one of better Nature

An. Where is he?

Rich. Heere:

Spits at him.

Why dost thou spit at me

An. Would it were mortall poyson, for thy sake

Rich. Neuer came poyson from so sweet a place

An. Neuer hung poyson on a fowler Toade. Out of my sight, thou dost
infect mine eyes

Rich. Thine eyes (sweet Lady) haue infected mine

An. Would they were Basiliskes, to strike thee dead

Rich. I would they were, that I might dye at once: For now they kill
me with a liuing death. Those eyes of thine, from mine haue drawne salt
Teares; Sham'd their Aspects with store of childish drops: These eyes,
which neuer shed remorsefull teare, No, when my Father Yorke, and
Edward wept, To heare the pittious moane that Rutland made When
black-fac'd Clifford shooke his sword at him. Nor when thy warlike
Father like a Childe, Told the sad storie of my Fathers death,

And twenty times, made pause to sob and weepe: That all the standers by
had wet their cheekes Like Trees bedash'd with raine. In that sad time,
My manly eyes did scorne an humble teare: And what these sorrowes could
not thence exhale, Thy Beauty hath, and made them blinde with weeping.
I neuer sued to Friend, nor Enemy:

My Tongue could neuer learne sweet smoothing word. But now thy Beauty
is propos'd my Fee,

My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speake.

She lookes scornfully at him.

Teach not thy lip such Scorne; for it was made For kissing Lady, not
for such contempt.

If thy reuengefull heart cannot forgiue,

Loe heere I lend thee this sharpe-pointed Sword, Which if thou please
to hide in this true brest, And let the Soule forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,

And humbly begge the death vpon my knee,

He layes his brest open, she offers at with his sword.

Nay do not pause: For I did kill King Henrie, But 'twas thy Beauty that
prouoked me.

Nay now dispatch: 'Twas I that stabb'd yong Edward, But 'twas thy
Heauenly face that set me on.

She fals the Sword.

Take vp the Sword againe, or take vp me

An. Arise Dissembler, though I wish thy death, I will not be thy
Executioner

Rich. Then bid me kill my selfe, and I will do it

An. I haue already

Rich. That was in thy rage:

Speake it againe, and euen with the word, This hand, which for thy
loue, did kill thy Loue, Shall for thy loue, kill a farre truer Loue,
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary

An. I would I knew thy heart

Rich. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue

An. I feare me, both are false

Rich. Then neuer Man was true

An. Well, well, put vp your Sword

Rich. Say then my Peace is made

An. That shalt thou know heereafter

Rich. But shall I liue in hope

An. All men I hope liue so.

Vouchsafe to weare this Ring

Rich. Looke how my Ring incompasseth thy Finger, Euen so thy Brest
incloseth my poore heart: Weare both of them, for both of them are
thine. And if thy poore deuoted Seruant may

But beg one fauour at thy gracious hand,

Thou dost confirme his happinesse for euer

An. What is it?

Rich. That it may please you leaue these sad designes, To him that
hath most cause to be a Mourner, And presently repayre to Crosbie
House:

Where (after I haue solemnly interr'd

At Chertsey Monast'ry this Noble King,

And wet his Graue with my Repentant Teares) I will with all expedient
duty see you,

For diuers vnknowne Reasons, I beseech you, Grant me this Boon

An. With all my heart, and much it ioyes me too, To see you are
become so penitent.

Tressel and Barkley, go along with me

Rich. Bid me farwell

An. 'Tis more then you deserue:

But since you teach me how to flatter you, Imagine I haue saide
farewell already.

Exit two with Anne.

Gent. Towards Chertsey, Noble Lord?

Rich. No: to White Friars, there attend my comming

Exit Coarse

Was euer woman in this humour woo'd?

Was euer woman in this humour wonne?

Ile haue her, but I will not keepe her long. What? I that kill'd her
Husband, and his Father, To take her in her hearts extreamest hate,
With curses in her mouth, Teares in her eyes, The bleeding witnesse of
my hatred by,

Hauing God, her Conscience, and these bars against me, And I, no
Friends to backe my suite withall, But the plaine Diuell, and
dissembling lookes? And yet to winne her? All the world to nothing.
Hah!

Hath she forgot alreadie that braue Prince, Edward, her Lord, whom I
(some three monthes since) Stab'd in my angry mood, at Tewkesbury?

A sweeter, and a louelier Gentleman,

Fram'd in the prodigallity of Nature:

Yong, Valiant, Wise, and (no doubt) right Royal, The spacious World
cannot againe affoord: And will she yet abase her eyes on me,

That cropt the Golden prime of this sweet Prince, And made her Widdow
to a wofull Bed?

On me, whose All not equals Edwards Moytie? On me, that halts, and am
mishapen thus?

My Dukedome, to a Beggerly denier!

I do mistake my person all this while:

Vpon my life she findes (although I cannot) My selfe to be a maru'llous
proper man.

Ile be at Charges for a Looking-glasse,

And entertaine a score or two of Taylors, To study fashions to adorne
my body:

Since I am crept in fauour with my selfe, I will maintaine it with some
little cost. But first Ile turne yon Fellow in his Graue, And then
returne lamenting to my Loue.

Shine out faire Sunne, till I haue bought a glasse, That I may see my
Shadow as I passe.

Enter.



Scena Tertia.

Enter the Queene Mother, Lord Riuers, and Lord Gray.

Riu. Haue patience Madam, ther's no doubt his Maiesty Will soone
recouer his accustom'd health

Gray. In that you brooke it ill, it makes him worse, Therefore for
Gods sake entertaine good comfort, And cheere his Grace with quicke and
merry eyes   Qu. If he were dead, what would betide on me? If he were
dead, what would betide on me?   Gray. No other harme, but losse of
such a Lord

Qu. The losse of such a Lord, includes all harmes

Gray. The Heauens haue blest you with a goodly Son, To be your
Comforter, when he is gone

Qu. Ah! he is yong; and his minority

Is put vnto the trust of Richard Glouster, A man that loues not me, nor
none of you

Riu. Is it concluded he shall be Protector?   Qu. It is determin'd,
not concluded yet: But so it must be, if the King miscarry.

Enter Buckingham and Derby.

Gray. Here comes the Lord of Buckingham & Derby

Buc. Good time of day vnto your Royall Grace

Der. God make your Maiesty ioyful, as you haue bin   Qu. The
Countesse Richmond, good my L[ord]. of Derby. To your good prayer, will
scarsely say, Amen. Yet Derby, not withstanding shee's your wife, And
loues not me, be you good Lord assur'd, I hate not you for her proud
arrogance

Der. I do beseech you, either not beleeue The enuious slanders of
her false Accusers: Or if she be accus'd on true report,

Beare with her weaknesse, which I thinke proceeds From wayward
sicknesse, and no grounded malice

Qu. Saw you the King to day my Lord of Derby

Der. But now the Duke of Buckingham and I, Are come from visiting
his Maiesty

Que. What likelyhood of his amendment Lords

Buc. Madam good hope, his Grace speaks chearfully

Qu. God grant him health, did you confer with him?   Buc. I Madam,
he desires to make attonement Betweene the Duke of Glouster, and your
Brothers, And betweene them, and my Lord Chamberlaine, And sent to
warne them to his Royall presence

Qu. Would all were well, but that will neuer be, I feare our
happinesse is at the height.

Enter Richard.

Rich. They do me wrong, and I will not indure it, Who is it that
complaines vnto the King,

That I (forsooth) am sterne, and loue them not? By holy Paul, they loue
his Grace but lightly, That fill his eares with such dissentious
Rumors. Because I cannot flatter, and looke faire, Smile in mens faces,
smooth, deceiue, and cogge, Ducke with French nods, and Apish curtesie,
I must be held a rancorous Enemy.

Cannot a plaine man liue, and thinke no harme, But thus his simple
truth must be abus'd, With silken, slye, insinuating Iackes?

Grey. To who in all this presence speaks your Grace?   Rich. To thee,
that hast nor Honesty, nor Grace: When haue I iniur'd thee? When done
thee wrong? Or thee? or thee? or any of your Faction? A plague vpon you
all. His Royall Grace

(Whom God preserue better then you would wish) Cannot be quiet scarse a
breathing while, But you must trouble him with lewd complaints

Qu. Brother of Glouster, you mistake the matter: The King on his
owne Royall disposition,

(And not prouok'd by any Sutor else)

Ayming (belike) at your interiour hatred, That in your outward action
shewes it selfe Against my Children, Brothers, and my Selfe, Makes him
to send, that he may learne the ground

Rich. I cannot tell, the world is growne so bad, That Wrens make
prey, where Eagles dare not pearch. Since euerie Iacke became a
Gentleman,

There's many a gentle person made a Iacke

Qu. Come, come, we know your meaning Brother Gloster You enuy my
aduancement, and my friends:

God grant we neuer may haue neede of you

Rich. Meane time, God grants that I haue need of you. Our Brother is
imprison'd by your meanes, My selfe disgrac'd, and the Nobilitie

Held in contempt, while great Promotions

Are daily giuen to ennoble those

That scarse some two dayes since were worth a Noble

Qu. By him that rais'd me to this carefull height, From that
contented hap which I inioy'd,

I neuer did incense his Maiestie

Against the Duke of Clarence, but haue bin An earnest aduocate to plead
for him.

My Lord you do me shamefull iniurie,

Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects

Rich. You may deny that you were not the meane Of my Lord Hastings
late imprisonment

Riu. She may my Lord, for-

Rich. She may Lord Riuers, why who knowes not so? She may do more sir
then denying that:

She may helpe you to many faire preferments, And then deny her ayding
hand therein,

And lay those Honors on your high desert. What may she not, she may, I
marry may she

Riu. What marry may she?

Ric. What marrie may she? Marrie with a King, A Batcheller, and a
handsome stripling too, Iwis your Grandam had a worser match

Qu. My Lord of Glouster, I haue too long borne Your blunt
vpbraidings, and your bitter scoffes: By heauen, I will acquaint his
Maiestie

Of those grosse taunts that oft I haue endur'd. I had rather be a
Countrie seruant maide

Then a great Queene, with this condition, To be so baited, scorn'd, and
stormed at, Small ioy haue I in being Englands Queene. Enter old Queene
Margaret.

Mar. And lesned be that small, God I beseech him, Thy honor, state,
and seate, is due to me

Rich. What? threat you me with telling of the King? I will auouch't
in presence of the King:

I dare aduenture to be sent to th' Towre. 'Tis time to speake,

My paines are quite forgot

Margaret. Out Diuell,

I do remember them too well:

Thou killd'st my Husband Henrie in the Tower, And Edward my poore Son,
at Tewkesburie

Rich. Ere you were Queene,

I, or your Husband King:

I was a packe-horse in his great affaires: A weeder out of his proud
Aduersaries,

A liberall rewarder of his Friends,

To royalize his blood, I spent mine owne

Margaret. I and much better blood

Then his, or thine

Rich. In all which time, you and your Husband Grey Were factious,
for the House of Lancaster; And Riuers, so were you: Was not your
Husband, In Margarets Battaile, at Saint Albons, slaine? Let me put in
your mindes, if you forget

What you haue beene ere this, and what you are: Withall, what I haue
beene, and what I am

Q.M. A murth'rous Villaine, and so still thou art

Rich. Poore Clarence did forsake his Father Warwicke, I, and
forswore himselfe (which Iesu pardon.)

Q.M. Which God reuenge

Rich. To fight on Edwards partie, for the Crowne, And for his meede,
poore Lord, he is mewed vp: I would to God my heart were Flint, like
Edwards, Or Edwards soft and pittifull, like mine; I am too childish
foolish for this World

Q.M. High thee to Hell for shame, & leaue this World Thou Cacodemon,
there thy Kingdome is

Riu. My Lord of Gloster: in those busie dayes, Which here you vrge,
to proue vs Enemies, We follow'd then our Lord, our Soueraigne King, So
should we you, if you should be our King

Rich. If I should be? I had rather be a Pedler: Farre be it from my
heart, the thought thereof

Qu. As little ioy (my Lord) as you suppose You should enioy, were
you this Countries King, As little ioy you may suppose in me,

That I enioy, being the Queene thereof

Q.M. A little ioy enioyes the Queene thereof, For I am shee, and
altogether ioylesse:

I can no longer hold me patient.

Heare me, you wrangling Pyrates, that fall out, In sharing that which
you haue pill'd from me: Which off you trembles not, that lookes on me?
If not, that I am Queene, you bow like Subiects; Yet that by you
depos'd, you quake like Rebells. Ah gentle Villaine, doe not turne
away

Rich. Foule wrinckled Witch, what mak'st thou in my sight?   Q.M.
But repetition of what thou hast marr'd, That will I make, before I let
thee goe

Rich. Wert thou not banished, on paine of death?   Q.M. I was: but I
doe find more paine in banishment, Then death can yeeld me here, by my
abode. A Husband and a Sonne thou ow'st to me,

And thou a Kingdome; all of you, allegeance: This Sorrow that I haue,
by right is yours, And all the Pleasures you vsurpe, are mine

Rich. The Curse my Noble Father layd on thee, When thou didst Crown
his Warlike Brows with Paper, And with thy scornes drew'st Riuers from
his eyes, And then to dry them, gau'st the Duke a Clowt, Steep'd in the
faultlesse blood of prettie Rutland: His Curses then, from bitternesse
of Soule, Denounc'd against thee, are all falne vpon thee: And God, not
we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed

Qu. So iust is God, to right the innocent

Hast. O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that Babe, And the most
mercilesse, that ere was heard of

Riu. Tyrants themselues wept when it was reported

Dors. No man but prophecied reuenge for it

Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept to see it

Q.M. What? were you snarling all before I came, Ready to catch each
other by the throat,

And turne you all your hatred now on me?

Did Yorkes dread Curse preuaile so much with Heauen, That Henries
death, my louely Edwards death, Their Kingdomes losse, my wofull
Banishment, Should all but answer for that peeuish Brat? Can Curses
pierce the Clouds, and enter Heauen? Why then giue way dull Clouds to
my quick Curses. Though not by Warre, by Surfet dye your King, As ours
by Murther, to make him a King.

Edward thy Sonne, that now is Prince of Wales, For Edward our Sonne,
that was Prince of Wales, Dye in his youth, by like vntimely violence.
Thy selfe a Queene, for me that was a Queene, Out-liue thy glory, like
my wretched selfe: Long may'st thou liue, to wayle thy Childrens death,
And see another, as I see thee now,

Deck'd in thy Rights, as thou art stall'd in mine. Long dye thy happie
dayes, before thy death, And after many length'ned howres of griefe,
Dye neyther Mother, Wife, nor Englands Queene. Riuers and Dorset, you
were standers by,

And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my Sonne Was stab'd with bloody
Daggers: God, I pray him, That none of you may liue his naturall age,
But by some vnlook'd accident cut off

Rich. Haue done thy Charme, y hateful wither'd Hagge

Q.M. And leaue out thee? stay Dog, for y shalt heare me. If Heauen
haue any grieuous plague in store, Exceeding those that I can wish vpon
thee, O let them keepe it, till thy sinnes be ripe, And then hurle
downe their indignation

On thee, the troubler of the poore Worlds peace. The Worme of
Conscience still begnaw thy Soule, Thy Friends suspect for Traytors
while thou liu'st, And take deepe Traytors for thy dearest Friends: No
sleepe close vp that deadly Eye of thine, Vnlesse it be while some
tormenting Dreame Affrights thee with a Hell of ougly Deuills. Thou
eluish mark'd, abortiue rooting Hogge, Thou that wast seal'd in thy
Natiuitie

The slaue of Nature, and the Sonne of Hell: Thou slander of thy heauie
Mothers Wombe, Thou loathed Issue of thy Fathers Loynes, Thou Ragge of
Honor, thou detested-

Rich. Margaret

Q.M. Richard

Rich. Ha

Q.M. I call thee not

Rich. I cry thee mercie then: for I did thinke, That thou hadst
call'd me all these bitter names

Q.M. Why so I did, but look'd for no reply. Oh let me make the
Period to my Curse

Rich. 'Tis done by me and ends in Margaret

Qu. Thus haue you breath'd your Curse against your self

Q.M. Poore painted Queen, vain flourish of my fortune, Why strew'st
thou Sugar on that Bottel'd Spider, Whose deadly Web ensnareth thee
about?

Foole, foole, thou whet'st a Knife to kill thy selfe: The day will
come, that thou shalt wish for me, To helpe thee curse this poysonous
Bunch-backt Toade

Hast. False boding Woman, end thy frantick Curse, Least to thy
harme, thou moue our patience

Q.M. Foule shame vpon you, you haue all mou'd mine

Ri. Were you wel seru'd, you would be taught your duty

Q.M. To serue me well, you all should do me duty, Teach me to be
your Queene, and you my Subiects: O serue me well, and teach your
selues that duty

Dors. Dispute not with her, shee is lunaticke

Q.M. Peace Master Marquesse, you are malapert, Your fire-new stampe
of Honor is scarce currant. O that your yong Nobility could iudge

What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable. They that stand high, haue
many blasts to shake them, And if they fall, they dash themselues to
peeces

Rich. Good counsaile marry, learne it, learne it Marquesse

Dor. It touches you my Lord, as much as me

Rich. I, and much more: but I was borne so high: Our ayerie buildeth
in the Cedars top,

And dallies with the winde, and scornes the Sunne

Mar. And turnes the Sun to shade: alas, alas, Witnesse my Sonne, now
in the shade of death, Whose bright out-shining beames, thy cloudy
wrath Hath in eternall darknesse folded vp.

Your ayery buildeth in our ayeries Nest:

O God that seest it, do not suffer it,

As it is wonne with blood, lost be it so

Buc. Peace, peace for shame: If not, for Charity

Mar. Vrge neither charity, nor shame to me: Vncharitably with me
haue you dealt,

And shamefully my hopes (by you) are butcher'd. My Charity is outrage,
Life my shame,

And in that shame, still liue my sorrowes rage

Buc. Haue done, haue done

Mar. O Princely Buckingham, Ile kisse thy hand, In signe of League
and amity with thee:

Now faire befall thee, and thy Noble house: Thy Garments are not
spotted with our blood: Nor thou within the compasse of my curse

Buc. Nor no one heere: for Curses neuer passe The lips of those that
breath them in the ayre

Mar. I will not thinke but they ascend the sky, And there awake Gods
gentle sleeping peace. O Buckingham, take heede of yonder dogge: Looke
when he fawnes, he bites; and when he bites, His venom tooth will
rankle to the death. Haue not to do with him, beware of him,

Sinne, death, and hell haue set their markes on him, And all their
Ministers attend on him

Rich. What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham

Buc. Nothing that I respect my gracious Lord

Mar. What dost thou scorne me

For my gentle counsell?

And sooth the diuell that I warne thee from. O but remember this
another day:

When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow: And say (poore
Margaret) was a Prophetesse: Liue each of you the subiects to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to Gods.

Enter.

Buc. My haire doth stand an end to heare her curses

Riu. And so doth mine, I muse why she's at libertie

Rich. I cannot blame her, by Gods holy mother, She hath had too much
wrong, and I repent My part thereof, that I haue done to her

Mar. I neuer did her any to my knowledge

Rich. Yet you haue all the vantage of her wrong: I was too hot, to
do somebody good,

That is too cold in thinking of it now:

Marry as for Clarence, he is well repayed: He is frank'd vp to fatting
for his paines, God pardon them, that are the cause thereof

Riu. A vertuous, and a Christian-like conclusion To pray for them
that haue done scath to vs

Rich. So do I euer, being well aduis'd.

Speakes to himselfe.

For had I curst now, I had curst my selfe. Enter Catesby.

Cates. Madam, his Maiesty doth call for you, And for your Grace, and
yours my gracious Lord

Qu. Catesby I come, Lords will you go with mee

Riu. We wait vpon your Grace.

Exeunt. all but Gloster.

Rich. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawle. The secret
Mischeefes that I set abroach, I lay vnto the greeuous charge of
others. Clarence, who I indeede haue cast in darknesse, I do beweepe to
many simple Gulles,

Namely to Derby, Hastings, Buckingham,

And tell them 'tis the Queene, and her Allies, That stirre the King
against the Duke my Brother. Now they beleeue it, and withall whet me

To be reueng'd on Riuers, Dorset, Grey.

But then I sigh, and with a peece of Scripture, Tell them that God bids
vs do good for euill: And thus I cloath my naked Villanie

With odde old ends, stolne forth of holy Writ, And seeme a Saint, when
most I play the deuill. Enter two murtherers.

But soft, heere come my Executioners,

How now my hardy stout resolued Mates,

Are you now going to dispatch this thing?   Vil. We are my Lord, and
come to haue the Warrant, That we may be admitted where he is

Ric. Well thought vpon, I haue it heare about me: When you haue
done, repayre to Crosby place; But sirs be sodaine in the execution,

Withall obdurate, do not heare him pleade; For Clarence is well spoken,
and perhappes May moue your hearts to pitty, if you marke him

Vil. Tut, tut, my Lord, we will not stand to prate, Talkers are no
good dooers, be assur'd:

We go to vse our hands, and not our tongues

Rich. Your eyes drop Mill-stones, when Fooles eyes fall Teares:

I like you Lads, about your businesse straight. Go, go, dispatch

Vil. We will my Noble Lord.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Clarence and Keeper.

Keep. Why lookes your Grace so heauily to day

Cla. O, I haue past a miserable night, So full of fearefull Dreames,
of vgly sights, That as I am a Christian faithfull man,

I would not spend another such a night

Though 'twere to buy a world of happy daies: So full of dismall terror
was the time

Keep. What was your dream my Lord, I pray you tel me   Cla. Me
thoughts that I had broken from the Tower, And was embark'd to crosse
to Burgundy,

And in my company my Brother Glouster,

Who from my Cabin tempted me to walke,

Vpon the Hatches: There we look'd toward England, And cited vp a
thousand heauy times,

During the warres of Yorke and Lancaster

That had befalne vs. As we pac'd along

Vpon the giddy footing of the Hatches,

Me thought that Glouster stumbled, and in falling Strooke me (that
thought to stay him) ouer-boord, Into the tumbling billowes of the
maine.

O Lord, me thought what paine it was to drowne, What dreadfull noise of
water in mine eares, What sights of vgly death within mine eyes. Me
thoughts, I saw a thousand fearfull wrackes: A thousand men that Fishes
gnaw'd vpon:

Wedges of Gold, great Anchors, heapes of Pearle, Inestimable Stones,
vnvalewed Iewels,

All scattred in the bottome of the Sea,

Some lay in dead-mens Sculles, and in the holes Where eyes did once
inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorne of eyes) reflecting
Gemmes, That woo'd the slimy bottome of the deepe, And mock'd the dead
bones that lay scattred by

Keep. Had you such leysure in the time of death To gaze vpon these
secrets of the deepe?

Cla. Me thought I had, and often did I striue To yeeld the Ghost: but
still the enuious Flood Stop'd in my soule, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vast, and wand'ring ayre: But smother'd it within my
panting bulke, Who almost burst, to belch it in the Sea

Keep. Awak'd you not in this sore Agony?   Clar. No, no, my Dreame
was lengthen'd after life. O then, began the Tempest to my Soule.

I past (me thought) the Melancholly Flood, With that sowre Ferry-man
which Poets write of, Vnto the Kingdome of perpetuall Night.

The first that there did greet my Stranger-soule, Was my great
Father-in-Law, renowned Warwicke, Who spake alowd: What scourge for
Periurie, Can this darke Monarchy affoord false Clarence? And so he
vanish'd. Then came wand'ring by, A Shadow like an Angell, with bright
hayre Dabbel'd in blood, and he shriek'd out alowd Clarence is come,
false, fleeting, periur'd Clarence, That stabb'd me in the field by
Tewkesbury: Seize on him Furies, take him vnto Torment. With that (me
thought) a Legion of foule Fiends Inuiron'd me, and howled in mine
eares

Such hiddeous cries, that with the very Noise, I (trembling) wak'd, and
for a season after, Could not beleeue, but that I was in Hell, Such
terrible Impression made my Dreame

Keep. No maruell Lord, though it affrighted you, I am affraid (me
thinkes) to heare you tell it

Cla. Ah Keeper, Keeper, I haue done these things (That now giue
euidence against my Soule) For Edwards sake, and see how he requits
mee. O God! if my deepe prayres cannot appease thee, But thou wilt be
aueng'd on my misdeeds,

Yet execute thy wrath in me alone:

O spare my guiltlesse Wife, and my poore children. Keeper, I prythee
sit by me a-while,

My Soule is heauy, and I faine would sleepe

Keep. I will my Lord, God giue your Grace good rest. Enter
Brakenbury the Lieutenant.

Bra. Sorrow breakes Seasons, and reposing houres, Makes the Night
Morning, and the Noon-tide night: Princes haue but their Titles for
their Glories, An outward Honor, for an inward Toyle,

And for vnfelt Imaginations

They often feele a world of restlesse Cares: So that betweene their
Titles, and low Name, There's nothing differs, but the outward fame.
Enter two Murtherers.

1.Mur. Ho, who's heere?

Bra. What would'st thou Fellow? And how camm'st thou hither

2.Mur. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my Legges

Bra. What so breefe?

1. 'Tis better (Sir) then to be tedious: Let him see our Commission,
and talke no more.

Reads

Bra. I am in this, commanded to deliuer The Noble Duke of Clarence to
your hands. I will not reason what is meant heereby,

Because I will be guiltlesse from the meaning. There lies the Duke
asleepe, and there the Keyes. Ile to the King, and signifie to him,

That thus I haue resign'd to you my charge. Enter.

1 You may sir, 'tis a point of wisedome: Far you well

2 What, shall we stab him as he sleepes

1 No: hee'l say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes   2 Why he shall
neuer wake, vntill the great Iudgement day

1 Why then hee'l say, we stab'd him sleeping

2 The vrging of that word Iudgement, hath bred a kinde of remorse in
me

1 What? art thou affraid?

2 Not to kill him, hauing a Warrant,

But to be damn'd for killing him, from the which No Warrant can defend
me

1 I thought thou had'st bin resolute

2 So I am, to let him liue

1 Ile backe to the Duke of Glouster, and tell him so

2 Nay, I prythee stay a little:

I hope this passionate humor of mine, will change, It was wont to hold
me but while one tels twenty

1 How do'st thou feele thy selfe now?

2 Some certaine dregges of conscience are yet within mee

1 Remember our Reward, when the deed's done

2 Come, he dies: I had forgot the Reward

1 Where's thy conscience now

2 O, in the Duke of Glousters purse

1 When hee opens his purse to giue vs our Reward, thy Conscience
flyes out

2 'Tis no matter, let it goe: There's few or none will entertaine
it

1 What if it come to thee againe?

2 Ile not meddle with it, it makes a man a Coward: A man cannot
steale, but it accuseth him: A man cannot Sweare, but it Checkes him: A
man cannot lye with his Neighbours Wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a
blushing shamefac'd spirit, that mutinies in a mans bosome: It filles a
man full of Obstacles. It made me once restore a Pursse of Gold that
(by chance) I found: It beggars any man that keepes it: It is turn'd
out of Townes and Citties for a dangerous thing, and euery man that
means to liue well, endeuours to trust to himselfe, and liue without
it

1 'Tis euen now at my elbow, perswading me not to kill the Duke

2 Take the diuell in thy minde, and beleeue him not: He would
insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh

1 I am strong fram'd, he cannot preuaile with me

2 Spoke like a tall man, that respects thy reputation. Come, shall
we fall to worke?

1 Take him on the Costard, with the hiltes of thy Sword, and then
throw him into the Malmesey-Butte in the next roome

2 O excellent deuice; and make a sop of him

1 Soft, he wakes

2 Strike

1 No, wee'l reason with him

Cla. Where art thou Keeper? Giue me a cup of wine

2 You shall haue Wine enough my Lord anon

Cla. In Gods name, what art thou?

1 A man, as you are

Cla. But not as I am Royall

1 Nor you as we are, Loyall

Cla. Thy voice is Thunder, but thy looks are humble

1 My voice is now the Kings, my lookes mine owne

Cla. How darkly, and how deadly dost thou speake? Your eyes do
menace me: why looke you pale? Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you
come?   2 To, to, to-

Cla. To murther me?

Both. I, I

Cla. You scarsely haue the hearts to tell me so, And therefore
cannot haue the hearts to do it. Wherein my Friends haue I offended
you?

1 Offended vs you haue not, but the King

Cla. I shall be reconcil'd to him againe

2 Neuer my Lord, therefore prepare to dye

Cla. Are you drawne forth among a world of men To slay the innocent?
What is my offence? Where is the Euidence that doth accuse me? What
lawfull Quest haue giuen their Verdict vp Vnto the frowning Iudge? Or
who pronounc'd The bitter sentence of poore Clarence death, Before I be
conuict by course of Law?

To threaten me with death, is most vnlawfull. I charge you, as you hope
for any goodnesse, That you depart, and lay no hands on me:

The deed you vndertake is damnable

1 What we will do, we do vpon command

2 And he that hath commanded, is our King

Cla. Erroneous Vassals, the great King of Kings Hath in the Table of
his Law commanded

That thou shalt do no murther. Will you then Spurne at his Edict, and
fulfill a Mans?

Take heed: for he holds Vengeance in his hand, To hurle vpon their
heads that breake his Law

2 And that same Vengeance doth he hurle on thee, For false
Forswearing, and for murther too: Thou did'st receiue the Sacrament, to
fight In quarrell of the House of Lancaster

1 And like a Traitor to the name of God, Did'st breake that Vow, and
with thy treacherous blade, Vnrip'st the Bowels of thy Sou'raignes
Sonne

2 Whom thou was't sworne to cherish and defend

1 How canst thou vrge Gods dreadfull Law to vs, When thou hast broke
it in such deere degree?   Cla. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill
deede? For Edward, for my Brother, for his sake. He sends you not to
murther me for this:

For in that sinne, he is as deepe as I.

If God will be auenged for the deed,

O know you yet, he doth it publiquely,

Take not the quarrell from his powrefull arme: He needs no indirect, or
lawlesse course, To cut off those that haue offended him

1 Who made thee then a bloudy minister, When gallant springing braue
Plantagenet, That Princely Nouice was strucke dead by thee?   Cla. My
Brothers loue, the Diuell, and my Rage

1 Thy Brothers Loue, our Duty, and thy Faults, Prouoke vs hither
now, to slaughter thee

Cla. If you do loue my Brother, hate not me: I am his Brother, and I
loue him well.

If you are hyr'd for meed, go backe againe, And I will send you to my
Brother Glouster: Who shall reward you better for my life,

Then Edward will for tydings of my death

2 You are deceiu'd,

Your Brother Glouster hates you

Cla. Oh no, he loues me, and he holds me deere: Go you to him from
me

1 I so we will

Cla. Tell him, when that our Princely Father Yorke, Blest his three
Sonnes with his victorious Arme, He little thought of this diuided
Friendship: Bid Glouster thinke on this, and he will weepe

1 I Milstones, as he lessoned vs to weepe

Cla. O do not slander him, for he is kinde

1 Right, as Snow in Haruest:

Come, you deceiue your selfe,

'Tis he that sends vs to destroy you heere

Cla. It cannot be, for he bewept my Fortune, And hugg'd me in his
armes, and swore with sobs, That he would labour my deliuery

1 Why so he doth, when he deliuers you From this earths thraldome,
to the ioyes of heauen

2 Make peace with God, for you must die my Lord

Cla. Haue you that holy feeling in your soules, To counsaile me to
make my peace with God, And are you yet to your owne soules so blinde,
That you will warre with God, by murd'ring me. O sirs consider, they
that set you on

To do this deede will hate you for the deede

2 What shall we do?

Clar. Relent, and saue your soules:

Which of you, if you were a Princes Sonne, Being pent from Liberty, as
I am now,

If two such murtherers as your selues came to you, Would not intreat
for life, as you would begge Were you in my distresse

1 Relent? no: 'Tis cowardly and womanish

Cla. Not to relent, is beastly, sauage, diuellish: My Friend, I spy
some pitty in thy lookes: O, if thine eye be not a Flatterer,

Come thou on my side, and intreate for mee, A begging Prince, what
begger pitties not

2 Looke behinde you, my Lord

1 Take that, and that, if all this will not do,

Stabs him.

Ile drowne you in the MalmeseyBut within. Enter.

2 A bloody deed, and desperately dispatcht: How faine (like Pilate)
would I wash my hands Of this most greeuous murther.

Enter 1.Murtherer]

1 How now? what mean'st thou that thou help'st me not? By Heauen the
Duke shall know how slacke you haue beene

2.Mur. I would he knew that I had sau'd his brother, Take thou the
Fee, and tell him what I say, For I repent me that the Duke is slaine.

Enter.

1.Mur. So do not I: go Coward as thou art. Well, Ile go hide the body
in some hole,

Till that the Duke giue order for his buriall: And when I haue my
meede, I will away,

For this will out, and then I must not stay.

Exit



Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Flourish.

Enter the King sicke, the Queene, Lord Marquesse Dorset, Riuers,
Hastings,

Catesby, Buckingham, Wooduill.

King. Why so: now haue I done a good daies work. You Peeres, continue
this vnited League:

I, euery day expect an Embassage

From my Redeemer, to redeeme me hence.

And more to peace my soule shall part to heauen, Since I haue made my
Friends at peace on earth. Dorset and Riuers, take each others hand,
Dissemble not your hatred, Sweare your loue

Riu. By heauen, my soule is purg'd from grudging hate And with my
hand I seale my true hearts Loue

Hast. So thriue I, as I truly sweare the like

King. Take heed you dally not before your King, Lest he that is the
supreme King of Kings Confound your hidden falshood, and award

Either of you to be the others end

Hast. So prosper I, as I sweare perfect loue

Ri. And I, as I loue Hastings with my heart,   King. Madam, your
selfe is not exempt from this: Nor you Sonne Dorset, Buckingham nor
you; You haue bene factious one against the other. Wife, loue Lord
Hastings, let him kisse your hand, And what you do, do it vnfeignedly

Qu. There Hastings, I will neuer more remember Our former hatred, so
thriue I, and mine

King. Dorset, imbrace him:

Hastings, loue Lord Marquesse

Dor. This interchange of loue, I heere protest Vpon my part, shall
be inuiolable

Hast. And so sweare I

King. Now Princely Buckingham, seale y this league With thy
embracements to my wiues Allies, And make me happy in your vnity

Buc. When euer Buckingham doth turne his hate Vpon your Grace, but
with all dutious loue, Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me With
hate in those where I expect most loue, When I haue most need to imploy
a Friend, And most assured that he is a Friend,

Deepe, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, Be he vnto me: This do I
begge of heauen, When I am cold in loue, to you, or yours.

Embrace

King. A pleasing Cordiall, Princely Buckingham Is this thy Vow, vnto
my sickely heart:

There wanteth now our Brother Gloster heere, To make the blessed period
of this peace

Buc. And in good time,

Heere comes Sir Richard Ratcliffe, and the Duke. Enter Ratcliffe, and
Gloster.

Rich. Good morrow to my Soueraigne King & Queen And Princely Peeres,
a happy time of day

King. Happy indeed, as we haue spent the day: Gloster, we haue done
deeds of Charity,

Made peace of enmity, faire loue of hate, Betweene these swelling wrong
incensed Peeres

Rich. A blessed labour my most Soueraigne Lord: Among this Princely
heape, if any heere

By false intelligence, or wrong surmize

Hold me a Foe: If I vnwillingly, or in my rage, Haue ought committed
that is hardly borne, To any in this presence, I desire

To reconcile me to his Friendly peace:

'Tis death to me to be at enmitie:

I hate it, and desire all good mens loue, First Madam, I intreate true
peace of you, Which I will purchase with my dutious seruice. Of you my
Noble Cosin Buckingham,

If euer any grudge were lodg'd betweene vs. Of you and you, Lord Riuers
and of Dorset, That all without desert haue frown'd on me: Of you Lord
Wooduill, and Lord Scales of you, Dukes, Earles, Lords, Gentlemen,
indeed of all. I do not know that Englishman aliue,

With whom my soule is any iot at oddes,

More then the Infant that is borne to night: I thanke my God for my
Humility

Qu. A holy day shall this be kept heereafter: I would to God all
strifes were well compounded. My Soueraigne Lord, I do beseech your
Highnesse To take our Brother Clarence to your Grace

Rich. Why Madam, haue I offred loue for this, To be so flowted in
this Royall presence? Who knowes not that the gentle Duke is dead?

They all start.

You do him iniurie to scorne his Coarse

King. Who knowes not he is dead?

Who knowes he is?

Qu. All-seeing heauen, what a world is this?   Buc. Looke I so pale
Lord Dorset, as the rest?   Dor. I my good Lord, and no man in the
presence, But his red colour hath forsooke his cheekes

King. Is Clarence dead? The Order was reuerst

Rich. But he (poore man) by your first order dyed, And that a winged
Mercurie did beare:

Some tardie Cripple bare the Countermand, That came too lagge to see
him buried.

God grant, that some lesse Noble, and lesse Loyall, Neerer in bloody
thoughts, and not in blood, Deserue not worse then wretched Clarence
did, And yet go currant from Suspition.

Enter Earle of Derby.

Der. A boone my Soueraigne for my seruice done

King. I prethee peace, my soule is full of sorrow

Der. I will not rise, vnlesse your Highnes heare me

King. Then say at once, what is it thou requests

Der. The forfeit (Soueraigne) of my seruants life, Who slew to day a
Riotous Gentleman,

Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolke

King. Haue I a tongue to doome my Brothers death? And shall that
tongue giue pardon to a slaue? My Brother kill'd no man, his fault was
Thought, And yet his punishment was bitter death.

Who sued to me for him? Who (in my wrath) Kneel'd and my feet, and bid
me be aduis'd? Who spoke of Brother-hood? who spoke of loue? Who told
me how the poore soule did forsake The mighty Warwicke, and did fight
for me? Who told me in the field at Tewkesbury,

When Oxford had me downe, he rescued me:

And said deare Brother liue, and be a King? Who told me, when we both
lay in the Field, Frozen (almost) to death, how he did lap me Euen in
his Garments, and did giue himselfe (All thin and naked) to the numbe
cold night? All this from my Remembrance, brutish wrath Sinfully
pluckt, and not a man of you

Had so much grace to put it in my minde.

But when your Carters, or your wayting Vassalls Haue done a drunken
Slaughter, and defac'd The precious Image of our deere Redeemer, You
straight are on your knees for Pardon, pardon, And I (vniustly too)
must grant it you.

But for my Brother, not a man would speake, Nor I (vngracious) speake
vnto my selfe

For him poore Soule. The proudest of you all, Haue bin beholding to him
in his life:

Yet none of you, would once begge for his life. O God! I feare thy
iustice will take hold On me, and you; and mine, and yours for this.
Come Hastings helpe me to my Closset.

Ah poore Clarence.

Exeunt. some with K[ing]. & Queen.

Rich. This is the fruits of rashnes: Markt you not, How that the
guilty Kindred of the Queene Look'd pale, when they did heare of
Clarence death. O! they did vrge it still vnto the King,

God will reuenge it. Come Lords will you go, To comfort Edward with our
company

Buc. We wait vpon your Grace.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter the old Dutchesse of Yorke, with the two children of Clarence.

Edw. Good Grandam tell vs, is our Father dead?   Dutch. No Boy

Daugh. Why do weepe so oft? And beate your Brest? And cry, O
Clarence, my vnhappy Sonne

Boy. Why do you looke on vs, and shake your head, And call vs
Orphans, Wretches, Castawayes, If that our Noble Father were aliue?

Dut. My pretty Cosins, you mistake me both, I do lament the sicknesse
of the King,

As loath to lose him, not your Fathers death: It were lost sorrow to
waile one that's lost

Boy. Then you conclude, (my Grandam) he is dead: The King mine
Vnckle is too blame for it. God will reuenge it, whom I will importune
With earnest prayers, all to that effect

Daugh. And so will I

Dut. Peace children peace, the King doth loue you wel. Incapeable,
and shallow Innocents,

You cannot guesse who caus'd your Fathers death

Boy. Grandam we can: for my good Vnkle Gloster Told me, the King
prouok'd to it by the Queene, Deuis'd impeachments to imprison him;

And when my Vnckle told me so, he wept,

And pittied me, and kindly kist my cheeke: Bad me rely on him, as on my
Father,

And he would loue me deerely as a childe

Dut. Ah! that Deceit should steale such gentle shape, And with a
vertuous Vizor hide deepe vice. He is my sonne, I, and therein my
shame,

Yet from my dugges, he drew not this deceit

Boy. Thinke you my Vnkle did dissemble Grandam?   Dut. I Boy

Boy. I cannot thinke it. Hearke, what noise is this? Enter the
Queene with her haire about her ears, Riuers & Dorset after

her.

Qu. Ah! who shall hinder me to waile and weepe? To chide my Fortune,
and torment my Selfe. Ile ioyne with blacke dispaire against my Soule,
And to my selfe, become an enemie

Dut. What meanes this Scene of rude impatience?   Qu. To make an act
of Tragicke violence. Edward my Lord, thy Sonne, our King is dead. Why
grow the Branches, when the Roote is gone? Why wither not the leaues
that want their sap? If you will liue, Lament: if dye, be breefe, That
our swift-winged Soules may catch the Kings, Or like obedient Subiects
follow him,

To his new Kingdome of nere-changing night

Dut. Ah so much interest haue in thy sorrow, As I had Title in thy
Noble Husband:

I haue bewept a worthy Husbands death,

And liu'd with looking on his Images:

But now two Mirrors of his Princely semblance, Are crack'd in pieces,
by malignant death, And I for comfort, haue but one false Glasse, That
greeues me, when I see my shame in him. Thou art a Widdow: yet thou art
a Mother, And hast the comfort of thy Children left, But death hath
snatch'd my Husband from mine Armes, And pluckt two Crutches from my
feeble hands, Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause haue I, (Thine being
but a moity of my moane)

To ouer-go thy woes, and drowne thy cries

Boy. Ah Aunt! you wept not for our Fathers death: How can we ayde
you with our Kindred teares?   Daugh. Our fatherlesse distresse was
left vnmoan'd, Your widdow-dolour, likewise be vnwept

Qu. Giue me no helpe in Lamentation,

I am not barren to bring forth complaints: All Springs reduce their
currents to mine eyes, That I being gouern'd by the waterie Moone, May
send forth plenteous teares to drowne the World. Ah, for my Husband,
for my deere Lord Edward

Chil. Ah for our Father, for our deere Lord Clarence

Dut. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence

Qu. What stay had I but Edward, and hee's gone?   Chil. What stay
had we but Clarence? and he's gone

Dut. What stayes had I, but they? and they are gone

Qu. Was neuer widdow had so deere a losse

Chil. Were neuer Orphans had so deere a losse

Dut. Was neuer Mother had so deere a losse. Alas! I am the Mother of
these Greefes,

Their woes are parcell'd, mine is generall. She for an Edward weepes,
and so do I:

I for a Clarence weepes, so doth not shee: These Babes for Clarence
weepe, so do not they. Alas! you three, on me threefold distrest: Power
all your teares, I am your sorrowes Nurse, And I will pamper it with
Lamentation

Dor. Comfort deere Mother, God is much displeas'd, That you take
with vnthankfulnesse his doing. In common worldly things, 'tis call'd
vngratefull, With dull vnwillingnesse to repay a debt, Which with a
bounteous hand was kindly lent: Much more to be thus opposite with
heauen, For it requires the Royall debt it lent you

Riuers. Madam, bethinke you like a carefull Mother Of the young
Prince your sonne: send straight for him, Let him be Crown'd, in him
your comfort liues. Drowne desperate sorrow in dead Edwards graue, And
plant your ioyes in liuing Edwards Throne. Enter Richard, Buckingham,
Derbie, Hastings, and Ratcliffe.

Rich. Sister haue comfort, all of vs haue cause To waile the dimming
of our shining Starre: But none can helpe our harmes by wayling them.
Madam, my Mother, I do cry you mercie,

I did not see your Grace. Humbly on my knee, I craue your Blessing

Dut. God blesse thee, and put meeknes in thy breast, Loue Charity,
Obedience, and true Dutie

Rich. Amen, and make me die a good old man, That is the butt-end of
a Mothers blessing; I maruell that her Grace did leaue it out

Buc. You clowdy-Princes, & hart-sorowing-Peeres, That beare this
heauie mutuall loade of Moane, Now cheere each other, in each others
Loue: Though we haue spent our Haruest of this King, We are to reape
the Haruest of his Sonne. The broken rancour of your high-swolne hates,
But lately splinter'd, knit, and ioyn'd together, Must gently be
preseru'd, cherisht, and kept: Me seemeth good, that with some little
Traine, Forthwith from Ludlow, the young Prince be set Hither to
London, to be crown'd our King

Riuers. Why with some little Traine,

My Lord of Buckingham?

Buc. Marrie my Lord, least by a multitude, The new-heal'd wound of
Malice should breake out, Which would be so much the more dangerous, By
how much the estate is greene, and yet vngouern'd. Where euery Horse
beares his commanding Reine, And may direct his course as please
himselfe, As well the feare of harme, as harme apparant, In my opinion,
ought to be preuented

Rich. I hope the King made peace with all of vs, And the compact is
firme, and true in me

Riu. And so in me, and so (I thinke) in all. Yet since it is but
greene, it should be put To no apparant likely-hood of breach,

Which haply by much company might be vrg'd: Therefore I say with Noble
Buckingham,

That it is meete so few should fetch the Prince

Hast. And so say I

Rich. Then be it so, and go we to determine Who they shall be that
strait shall poste to London. Madam, and you my Sister, will you go

To giue your censures in this businesse.

Exeunt.

Manet Buckingham, and Richard.

Buc. My Lord, who euer iournies to the Prince, For God sake let not
vs two stay at home: For by the way, Ile sort occasion,

As Index to the story we late talk'd of,

To part the Queenes proud Kindred from the Prince

Rich. My other selfe, my Counsailes Consistory, My Oracle, My
Prophet, my deere Cosin,

I, as a childe, will go by thy direction, Toward London then, for wee'l
not stay behinde.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter one Citizen at one doore, and another at the other.

1.Cit. Good morrow Neighbour, whether away so fast?

2.Cit. I promise you, I scarsely know my selfe: Heare you the newes
abroad?

1. Yes, that the King is dead

2. Ill newes byrlady, seldome comes the better: I feare, I feare,
'twill proue a giddy world. Enter another Citizen.

3. Neighbours, God speed

1. Giue you good morrow sir

3. Doth the newes hold of good king Edwards death?   2. I sir, it is
too true, God helpe the while

3. Then Masters looke to see a troublous world

1. No, no, by Gods good grace, his Son shall reigne

3. Woe to that Land that's gouern'd by a Childe

2. In him there is a hope of Gouernment, Which in his nonage,
counsell vnder him,

And in his full and ripened yeares, himselfe No doubt shall then, and
till then gouerne well

1. So stood the State, when Henry the sixt Was crown'd in Paris, but
at nine months old

3. Stood the State so? No, no, good friends, God wot For then this
Land was famously enrich'd

With politike graue Counsell; then the King Had vertuous Vnkles to
protect his Grace

1. Why so hath this, both by his Father and Mother

3. Better it were they all came by his Father: Or by his Father
there were none at all:

For emulation, who shall now be neerest,

Will touch vs all too neere, if God preuent not. O full of danger is
the Duke of Glouster, And the Queenes Sons, and Brothers, haught and
proud: And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule, This sickly Land,
might solace as before

1. Come, come, we feare the worst: all will be well

3. When Clouds are seen, wisemen put on their clokes; When great
leaues fall, then Winter is at hand; When the Sun sets, who doth not
looke for night? Vntimely stormes, makes men expect a Dearth: All may
be well; but if God sort it so,

'Tis more then we deserue, or I expect

2. Truly, the hearts of men are full of feare: You cannot reason
(almost) with a man,

That lookes not heauily, and full of dread

3. Before the dayes of Change, still is it so, By a diuine instinct,
mens mindes mistrust Pursuing danger: as by proofe we see

The Water swell before a boyst'rous storme: But leaue it all to God.
Whither away?

2 Marry we were sent for to the Iustices

3 And so was I: Ile beare you company.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Arch-bishop, yong Yorke, the Queene, and the Dutchesse.

Arch. Last night I heard they lay at Stony Stratford, And at
Northampton they do rest to night: To morrow, or next day, they will be
heere

Dut. I long with all my heart to see the Prince: I hope he is much
growne since last I saw him

Qu. But I heare no, they say my sonne of Yorke Ha's almost ouertane
him in his growth

Yorke. I Mother, but I would not haue it so

Dut. Why my good Cosin, it is good to grow

Yor. Grandam, one night as we did sit at Supper, My Vnkle Riuers
talk'd how I did grow

More then my Brother. I, quoth my Vnkle Glouster, Small Herbes haue
grace, great Weeds do grow apace. And since, me thinkes I would not
grow so fast, Because sweet Flowres are slow, and Weeds make hast

Dut. Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold In him that did
obiect the same to thee.

He was the wretched'st thing when he was yong, So long a growing, and
so leysurely,

That if his rule were true, he should be gracious

Yor. And so no doubt he is, my gracious Madam

Dut. I hope he is, but yet let Mothers doubt

Yor. Now by my troth, if I had beene remembred, I could haue giuen
my Vnkles Grace, a flout, To touch his growth, neerer then he toucht
mine

Dut. How my yong Yorke,

I prythee let me heare it

Yor. Marry (they say) my Vnkle grew so fast, That he could gnaw a
crust at two houres old, 'Twas full two yeares ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam, this would haue beene a byting Iest

Dut. I prythee pretty Yorke, who told thee this?   Yor. Grandam, his
Nursse

Dut. His Nurse? why she was dead, ere y wast borne

Yor. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me

Qu. A parlous Boy: go too, you are too shrew'd

Dut. Good Madam, be not angry with the Childe

Qu. Pitchers haue eares.

Enter a Messenger.

Arch. Heere comes a Messenger: What Newes?   Mes. Such newes my Lord,
as greeues me to report

Qu. How doth the Prince?

Mes. Well Madam, and in health

Dut. What is thy Newes?

Mess. Lord Riuers, and Lord Grey,

Are sent to Pomfret, and with them,

Sir Thomas Vaughan, Prisoners

Dut. Who hath committed them?

Mes. The mighty Dukes, Glouster and Buckingham

Arch. For what offence?

Mes. The summe of all I can, I haue disclos'd: Why, or for what, the
Nobles were committed, Is all vnknowne to me, my gracious Lord

Qu. Aye me! I see the ruine of my House: The Tyger now hath seiz'd
the gentle Hinde, Insulting Tiranny beginnes to Iutt

Vpon the innocent and awelesse Throne:

Welcome Destruction, Blood, and Massacre, I see (as in a Map) the end
of all

Dut. Accursed, and vnquiet wrangling dayes, How many of you haue
mine eyes beheld?

My Husband lost his life, to get the Crowne, And often vp and downe my
sonnes were tost For me to ioy, and weepe, their gaine and losse. And
being seated, and Domesticke broyles

Cleane ouer-blowne, themselues the Conquerors, Make warre vpon
themselues, Brother to Brother; Blood to blood, selfe against selfe: O
prepostorous And franticke outrage, end thy damned spleene, Or let me
dye, to looke on earth no more

Qu. Come, come my Boy, we will to Sanctuary. Madam, farwell

Dut. Stay, I will go with you

Qu. You haue no cause

Arch. My gracious Lady go,

And thether beare your Treasure and your Goodes, For my part, Ile
resigne vnto your Grace

The Seale I keepe, and so betide to me,

As well I tender you, and all of yours.

Go, Ile conduct you to the Sanctuary.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.

The Trumpets sound.

Enter yong Prince, the Dukes of Glocester, and Buckingham, Lord
Cardinall,

with others.

Buc. Welcome sweete Prince to London,

To your Chamber

Rich. Welcome deere Cosin, my thoughts Soueraign The wearie way hath
made you Melancholly

Prin. No Vnkle, but our crosses on the way, Haue made it tedious,
wearisome, and heauie. I want more Vnkles heere to welcome me

Rich. Sweet Prince, the vntainted vertue of your yeers Hath not yet
diu'd into the Worlds deceit: No more can you distinguish of a man,

Then of his outward shew, which God he knowes, Seldome or neuer iumpeth
with the heart.

Those Vnkles which you want, were dangerous: Your Grace attended to
their Sugred words, But look'd not on the poyson of their hearts: God
keepe you from them, and from such false Friends

Prin. God keepe me from false Friends, But they were none

Rich. My Lord, the Maior of London comes to greet you.

Enter Lord Maior.

Lo.Maior. God blesse your Grace, with health and happie dayes

Prin. I thanke you, good my Lord, and thank you all: I thought my
Mother, and my Brother Yorke, Would long, ere this, haue met vs on the
way. Fie, what a Slug is Hastings, that he comes not To tell vs,
whether they will come, or no. Enter Lord Hastings.

Buck. And in good time, heere comes the sweating Lord

Prince. Welcome, my Lord: what, will our Mother come?

Hast. On what occasion God he knowes, not I; The Queene your Mother,
and your Brother Yorke, Haue taken Sanctuarie: The tender Prince

Would faine haue come with me, to meet your Grace, But by his Mother
was perforce with-held

Buck. Fie, what an indirect and peeuish course Is this of hers? Lord
Cardinall, will your Grace Perswade the Queene, to send the Duke of
Yorke Vnto his Princely Brother presently?

If she denie, Lord Hastings goe with him, And from her iealous Armes
pluck him perforce

Card. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weake Oratorie Can from his
Mother winne the Duke of Yorke, Anon expect him here: but if she be
obdurate To milde entreaties, God forbid

We should infringe the holy Priuiledge

Of blessed Sanctuarie: not for all this Land, Would I be guiltie of so
great a sinne

Buck. You are too sencelesse obstinate, my Lord, Too ceremonious,
and traditionall.

Weigh it but with the grossenesse of this Age, You breake not
Sanctuarie, in seizing him: The benefit thereof is alwayes granted

To those, whose dealings haue deseru'd the place, And those who haue
the wit to clayme the place: This Prince hath neyther claym'd it, nor
deseru'd it, And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot haue it. Then
taking him from thence, that is not there, You breake no Priuiledge,
nor Charter there: Oft haue I heard of Sanctuarie men,

But Sanctuarie children, ne're till now

Card. My Lord, you shall o're-rule my mind for once. Come on, Lord
Hastings, will you goe with me?   Hast. I goe, my Lord.

Exit Cardinall and Hastings.

Prince. Good Lords, make all the speedie hast you may. Say, Vnckle
Glocester, if our Brother come, Where shall we soiourne, till our
Coronation?   Glo. Where it think'st best vnto your Royall selfe. If I
may counsaile you, some day or two

Your Highnesse shall repose you at the Tower: Then where you please,
and shall be thought most fit For your best health, and recreation

Prince. I doe not like the Tower, of any place: Did Iulius Csar
build that place, my Lord?   Buck. He did, my gracious Lord, begin that
place, Which since, succeeding Ages haue re-edify'd

Prince. Is it vpon record? or else reported Successiuely from age to
age, he built it?   Buck. Vpon record, my gracious Lord

Prince. But say, my Lord, it were not registred, Me thinkes the
truth should liue from age to age, As 'twere retayl'd to all
posteritie,

Euen to the generall ending day

Glo. So wise, so young, they say doe neuer liue long

Prince. What say you, Vnckle?

Glo. I say, without Characters, Fame liues long. Thus, like the
formall Vice, Iniquitie,

I morallize two meanings in one word

Prince. That Iulius Csar was a famous man, With what his Valour did
enrich his Wit,

His Wit set downe, to make his Valour liue: Death makes no Conquest of
his Conqueror, For now he liues in Fame, though not in Life. Ile tell
you what, my Cousin Buckingham

Buck. What, my gracious Lord?

Prince. And if I liue vntill I be a man, Ile win our ancient Right in
France againe, Or dye a Souldier, as I liu'd a King

Glo. Short Summers lightly haue a forward Spring. Enter young Yorke,
Hastings, and Cardinall.

Buck. Now in good time, heere comes the Duke of Yorke

Prince. Richard of Yorke, how fares our Noble Brother?   Yorke.
Well, my deare Lord, so must I call you now

Prince. I, Brother, to our griefe, as it is yours: Too late he dy'd,
that might haue kept that Title, Which by his death hath lost much
Maiestie

Glo. How fares our Cousin, Noble Lord of Yorke?   Yorke. I thanke
you, gentle Vnckle. O my Lord, You said, that idle Weeds are fast in
growth: The Prince, my Brother, hath out-growne me farre

Glo. He hath, my Lord

Yorke. And therefore is he idle?

Glo. Oh my faire Cousin, I must not say so

Yorke. Then he is more beholding to you, then I

Glo. He may command me as my Soueraigne, But you haue power in me,
as in a Kinsman

Yorke. I pray you, Vnckle, giue me this Dagger

Glo. My Dagger, little Cousin? with all my heart

Prince. A Begger, Brother?

Yorke. Of my kind Vnckle, that I know will giue, And being but a Toy,
which is no griefe to giue

Glo. A greater gift then that, Ile giue my Cousin

Yorke. A greater gift? O, that's the Sword to it

Glo. I, gentle Cousin, were it light enough

Yorke. O then I see, you will part but with light gifts, In
weightier things you'le say a Begger nay

Glo. It is too weightie for your Grace to weare

Yorke. I weigh it lightly, were it heauier

Glo. What, would you haue my Weapon, little Lord?   Yorke. I would
that I might thanke you, as, as, you call me

Glo. How?

Yorke. Little

Prince. My Lord of Yorke will still be crosse in talke: Vnckle, your
Grace knowes how to beare with him

Yorke. You meane to beare me, not to beare with me: Vnckle, my
Brother mockes both you and me, Because that I am little, like an Ape,

He thinkes that you should beare me on your shoulders

Buck. With what a sharpe prouided wit he reasons: To mittigate the
scorne he giues his Vnckle, He prettily and aptly taunts himselfe:

So cunning, and so young, is wonderfull

Glo. My Lord, wilt please you passe along? My selfe, and my good
Cousin Buckingham,

Will to your Mother, to entreat of her

To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you

Yorke. what, will you goe vnto the Tower, my Lord?   Prince. My Lord
Protector will haue it so

Yorke. I shall not sleepe in quiet at the Tower

Glo. Why, what should you feare?

Yorke. Marry, my Vnckle Clarence angry Ghost: My Grandam told me he
was murther'd there

Prince. I feare no Vnckles dead

Glo. Nor none that liue, I hope

Prince. And if they liue, I hope I need not feare. But come my Lord:
and with a heauie heart, Thinking on them, goe I vnto the Tower.

A Senet. Exeunt Prince, Yorke, Hastings, and Dorset.

Manet Richard, Buckingham, and Catesby.

Buck. Thinke you, my Lord, this little prating Yorke Was not incensed
by his subtile Mother,

To taunt and scorne you thus opprobriously?   Glo. No doubt, no doubt:
Oh 'tis a perillous Boy, Bold, quicke, ingenious, forward, capable: Hee
is all the Mothers, from the top to toe

Buck. Well, let them rest: Come hither Catesby, Thou art sworne as
deepely to effect what we intend, As closely to conceale what we
impart:

Thou know'st our reasons vrg'd vpon the way. What think'st thou? is it
not an easie matter, To make William Lord Hastings of our minde, For
the installment of this Noble Duke

In the Seat Royall of this famous Ile?

Cates. He for his fathers sake so loues the Prince, That he will not
be wonne to ought against him

Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley? Will not hee?

Cates. Hee will doe all in all as Hastings doth

Buck. Well then, no more but this:

Goe gentle Catesby, and as it were farre off, Sound thou Lord
Hastings,

How he doth stand affected to our purpose, And summon him to morrow to
the Tower,

To sit about the Coronation.

If thou do'st finde him tractable to vs,

Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons: If he be leaden, ycie,
cold, vnwilling,

Be thou so too, and so breake off the talke, And giue vs notice of his
inclination:

For we to morrow hold diuided Councels,

Wherein thy selfe shalt highly be employ'd

Rich. Commend me to Lord William: tell him Catesby, His ancient Knot
of dangerous Aduersaries To morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle, And
bid my Lord, for ioy of this good newes, Giue Mistresse Shore one
gentle Kisse the more

Buck. Good Catesby, goe effect this businesse soundly

Cates. My good Lords both, with all the heed I can

Rich. Shall we heare from you, Catesby, ere we sleepe?   Cates. You
shall, my Lord

Rich. At Crosby House, there shall you find vs both.

Exit Catesby.

Buck. Now, my Lord,

What shall wee doe, if wee perceiue

Lord Hastings will not yeeld to our Complots?   Rich. Chop off his
Head:

Something wee will determine:

And looke when I am King, clayme thou of me The Earledome of Hereford,
and all the moueables Whereof the King, my Brother, was possest

Buck. Ile clayme that promise at your Graces hand

Rich. And looke to haue it yeelded with all kindnesse. Come, let vs
suppe betimes, that afterwards Wee may digest our complots in some
forme.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter a Messenger to the Doore of Hastings.

Mess. My Lord, my Lord

Hast. Who knockes?

Mess. One from the Lord Stanley

Hast. What is't a Clocke?

Mess. Vpon the stroke of foure.

Enter Lord Hastings.

Hast. Cannot my Lord Stanley sleepe these tedious Nights?

Mess. So it appeares, by that I haue to say: First, he commends him
to your Noble selfe

Hast. What then?

Mess. Then certifies your Lordship, that this Night He dreamt, the
Bore had rased off his Helme: Besides, he sayes there are two Councels
kept; And that may be determin'd at the one,

Which may make you and him to rue at th' other. Therefore he sends to
know your Lordships pleasure, If you will presently take Horse with
him, And with all speed post with him toward the North, To shun the
danger that his Soule diuines

Hast. Goe fellow, goe, returne vnto thy Lord, Bid him not feare the
seperated Councell: His Honor and my selfe are at the one,

And at the other, is my good friend Catesby; Where nothing can
proceede, that toucheth vs, Whereof I shall not haue intelligence:

Tell him his Feares are shallow, without instance. And for his Dreames,
I wonder hee's so simple, To trust the mock'ry of vnquiet slumbers. To
flye the Bore, before the Bore pursues, Were to incense the Bore to
follow vs,

And make pursuit, where he did meane no chase. Goe, bid thy Master
rise, and come to me, And we will both together to the Tower,

Where he shall see the Bore will vse vs kindly

Mess. Ile goe, my Lord, and tell him what you say. Enter.

Enter Catesby.

Cates. Many good morrowes to my Noble Lord

Hast. Good morrow Catesby, you are early stirring: What newes, what
newes, in this our tott'ring State?   Cates. It is a reeling World
indeed, my Lord: And I beleeue will neuer stand vpright,

Till Richard weare the Garland of the Realme

Hast. How weare the Garland?

Doest thou meane the Crowne?

Cates. I, my good Lord

Hast. Ile haue this Crown of mine cut fro[m] my shoulders, Before
Ile see the Crowne so foule mis-plac'd: But canst thou guesse, that he
doth ayme at it?   Cates. I, on my life, and hopes to find you forward,
Vpon his partie, for the gaine thereof:

And thereupon he sends you this good newes, That this same very day
your enemies,

The Kindred of the Queene, must dye at Pomfret

Hast. Indeed I am no mourner for that newes, Because they haue beene
still my aduersaries: But, that Ile giue my voice on Richards side, To
barre my Masters Heires in true Descent, God knowes I will not doe it,
to the death

Cates. God keepe your Lordship in that gracious minde

Hast. But I shall laugh at this a twelue-month hence, That they
which brought me in my Masters hate, I liue to looke vpon their
Tragedie.

Well Catesby, ere a fort-night make me older, Ile send some packing,
that yet thinke not on't

Cates. 'Tis a vile thing to dye, my gracious Lord, When men are
vnprepar'd, and looke not for it

Hast. O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out With Riuers,
Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill doe With some men else, that thinke
themselues as safe As thou and I, who (as thou know'st) are deare To
Princely Richard, and to Buckingham

Cates. The Princes both make high account of you, For they account
his Head vpon the Bridge

Hast. I know they doe, and I haue well deseru'd it. Enter Lord
Stanley.

Come on, come on, where is your Bore-speare man? Feare you the Bore,
and goe so vnprouided?   Stan. My Lord good morrow, good morrow
Catesby: You may ieast on, but by the holy Rood,

I doe not like these seuerall Councels, I

Hast. My Lord, I hold my Life as deare as yours, And neuer in my
dayes, I doe protest,

Was it so precious to me, as 'tis now:

Thinke you, but that I know our state secure, I would be so triumphant
as I am?

Sta. The Lords at Pomfret, whe[n] they rode from London, Were iocund,
and suppos'd their states were sure, And they indeed had no cause to
mistrust: But yet you see, how soone the Day o're-cast. This sudden
stab of Rancour I misdoubt:

Pray God (I say) I proue a needlesse Coward. What, shall we toward the
Tower? the day is spent

Hast. Come, come, haue with you:

Wot you what, my Lord,

To day the Lords you talke of, are beheaded

Sta. They, for their truth, might better wear their Heads, Then some
that haue accus'd them, weare their Hats. But come, my Lord, let's
away.

Enter a Pursuiuant.

Hast. Goe on before, Ile talke with this good fellow.

Exit Lord Stanley, and Catesby.

How now, Sirrha? how goes the World with thee?   Purs. The better, that
your Lordship please to aske

Hast. I tell thee man, 'tis better with me now, Then when thou
met'st me last, where now we meet: Then was I going Prisoner to the
Tower,

By the suggestion of the Queenes Allyes.

But now I tell thee (keepe it to thy selfe) This day those Enemies are
put to death,

And I in better state then ere I was

Purs. God hold it, to your Honors good content

Hast. Gramercie fellow: there, drinke that for me.

Throwes him his Purse.

Purs. I thanke your Honor.

Exit Pursuiuant.

Enter a Priest.

Priest. Well met, my Lord, I am glad to see your Honor

Hast. I thanke thee, good Sir Iohn, with all my heart. I am in your
debt, for your last Exercise: Come the next Sabboth, and I will content
you

Priest. Ile wait vpon your Lordship.

Enter Buckingham.

Buc. What, talking with a Priest, Lord Chamberlaine? Your friends at
Pomfret, they doe need the Priest, Your Honor hath no shriuing worke in
hand

Hast. Good faith, and when I met this holy man, The men you talke
of, came into my minde. What, goe you toward the Tower?

Buc. I doe, my Lord, but long I cannot stay there: I shall returne
before your Lordship, thence

Hast. Nay like enough, for I stay Dinner there

Buc. And Supper too, although thou know'st it not. Come, will you
goe?

Hast. Ile wait vpon your Lordship.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Sir Richard Ratcliffe, with Halberds, carrying the Nobles to
death

at Pomfret.

Riuers. Sir Richard Ratcliffe, let me tell thee this, To day shalt
thou behold a Subiect die,

For Truth, for Dutie, and for Loyaltie

Grey. God blesse the Prince from all the Pack of you, A Knot you
are, of damned Blood-suckers

Vaugh. You liue, that shall cry woe for this heereafter

Rat. Dispatch, the limit of your Liues is out

Riuers. O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody Prison! Fatall and ominous
to Noble Peeres:

Within the guiltie Closure of thy Walls,

Richard the Second here was hackt to death: And for more slander to thy
dismall Seat, Wee giue to thee our guiltlesse blood to drinke

Grey. Now Margarets Curse is falne vpon our Heads, When shee
exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I, For standing by, when Richard stab'd
her Sonne

Riuers. Then curs'd shee Richard,

Then curs'd shee Buckingham,

Then curs'd shee Hastings. Oh remember God, To heare her prayer for
them, as now for vs: And for my Sister, and her Princely Sonnes, Be
satisfy'd, deare God, with our true blood, Which, as thou know'st,
vniustly must be spilt

Rat. Make haste, the houre of death is expiate

Riuers. Come Grey, come Vaughan, let vs here embrace. Farewell,
vntill we meet againe in Heauen.

Exeunt.



Scaena Quarta.

Enter Buckingham, Darby, Hastings, Bishop of Ely, Norfolke, Ratcliffe,

Louell, with others, at a Table.

Hast. Now Noble Peeres, the cause why we are met, Is to determine of
the Coronation:

In Gods Name speake, when is the Royall day?   Buck. Is all things
ready for the Royall time?   Darb. It is, and wants but nomination

Ely. To morrow then I iudge a happie day

Buck. Who knowes the Lord Protectors mind herein? Who is most inward
with the Noble Duke?

Ely. Your Grace, we thinke, should soonest know his minde

Buck. We know each others Faces: for our Hearts, He knowes no more
of mine, then I of yours, Or I of his, my Lord, then you of mine:

Lord Hastings, you and he are neere in loue

Hast. I thanke his Grace, I know he loues me well: But for his
purpose in the Coronation,

I haue not sounded him, nor he deliuer'd

His gracious pleasure any way therein:

But you, my Honorable Lords, may name the time, And in the Dukes
behalfe Ile giue my Voice, Which I presume hee'le take in gentle part.
Enter Gloucester.

Ely. In happie time, here comes the Duke himselfe

Rich. My Noble Lords, and Cousins all, good morrow: I haue beene
long a sleeper: but I trust, My absence doth neglect no great designe,
Which by my presence might haue beene concluded

Buck. Had you not come vpon your Q my Lord, William, Lord Hastings,
had pronounc'd your part; I meane your Voice, for Crowning of the King

Rich. Then my Lord Hastings, no man might be bolder, His Lordship
knowes me well, and loues me well. My Lord of Ely, when I was last in
Holborne, I saw good Strawberries in your Garden there, I doe beseech
you, send for some of them

Ely. Mary and will, my Lord, with all my heart.

Exit Bishop.

Rich. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. Catesby hath sounded
Hastings in our businesse, And findes the testie Gentleman so hot,

That he will lose his Head, ere giue consent His Masters Child, as
worshipfully he tearmes it, Shall lose the Royaltie of Englands Throne

Buck. Withdraw your selfe a while, Ile goe with you.

Exeunt.

Darb. We haue not yet set downe this day of Triumph: To morrow, in my
iudgement, is too sudden, For I my selfe am not so well prouided,

As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. Enter the Bishop of Ely.

Ely. Where is my Lord, the Duke of Gloster? I haue sent for these
Strawberries

Ha. His Grace looks chearfully & smooth this morning, There's some
conceit or other likes him well, When that he bids good morrow with
such spirit. I thinke there's neuer a man in Christendome Can lesser
hide his loue, or hate, then hee, For by his Face straight shall you
know his Heart

Darb. What of his Heart perceiue you in his Face, By any liuelyhood
he shew'd to day?

Hast. Mary, that with no man here he is offended: For were he, he had
shewne it in his Lookes. Enter Richard, and Buckingham.

Rich. I pray you all, tell me what they deserue, That doe conspire my
death with diuellish Plots Of damned Witchcraft, and that haue
preuail'd Vpon my Body with their Hellish Charmes

Hast. The tender loue I beare your Grace, my Lord, Makes me most
forward, in this Princely presence, To doome th' Offendors, whosoe're
they be: I say, my Lord, they haue deserued death

Rich. Then be your eyes the witnesse of their euill. Looke how I am
bewitch'd: behold, mine Arme Is like a blasted Sapling, wither'd vp:

And this is Edwards Wife, that monstrous Witch, Consorted with that
Harlot, Strumpet Shore, That by their Witchcraft thus haue marked me

Hast. If they haue done this deed, my Noble Lord

Rich. If? thou Protector of this damned Strumpet, Talk'st thou to me
of Ifs: thou art a Traytor, Off with his Head; now by Saint Paul I
sweare, I will not dine, vntill I see the same.

Louell and Ratcliffe, looke that it be done:

Exeunt.

The rest that loue me, rise, and follow me.

Manet Louell and Ratcliffe, with the Lord Hastings.

Hast. Woe, woe for England, not a whit for me, For I, too fond, might
haue preuented this: Stanley did dreame, the Bore did rowse our Helmes,
And I did scorne it, and disdaine to flye: Three times to day my
Foot-Cloth-Horse did stumble, And started, when he look'd vpon the
Tower, As loth to beare me to the slaughter-house. O now I need the
Priest, that spake to me: I now repent I told the Pursuiuant,

As too triumphing, how mine Enemies

To day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd, And I my selfe secure, in
grace and fauour. Oh Margaret, Margaret, now thy heauie Curse Is
lighted on poore Hastings wretched Head

Ra. Come, come, dispatch, the Duke would be at dinner: Make a short
Shrift, he longs to see your Head

Hast. O momentarie grace of mortall men, Which we more hunt for,
then the grace of God! Who builds his hope in ayre of your good Lookes,
Liues like a drunken Sayler on a Mast,

Readie with euery Nod to tumble downe,

Into the fatall Bowels of the Deepe

Lou. Come, come, dispatch, 'tis bootlesse to exclaime

Hast. O bloody Richard: miserable England, I prophecie the
fearefull'st time to thee, That euer wretched Age hath look'd vpon.

Come, lead me to the Block, beare him my Head, They smile at me, who
shortly shall be dead.

Exeunt.

Enter Richard, and Buckingham, in rotten Armour, maruellous
ill-fauoured.



Richard. Come Cousin,

Canst thou quake, and change thy colour,

Murther thy breath in middle of a word,

And then againe begin, and stop againe,

As if thou were distraught, and mad with terror?   Buck. Tut, I can
counterfeit the deepe Tragedian, Speake, and looke backe, and prie on
euery side, Tremble and start at wagging of a Straw:

Intending deepe suspition, gastly Lookes

Are at my seruice, like enforced Smiles;

And both are readie in their Offices,

At any time to grace my Stratagemes.

But what, is Catesby gone?

Rich. He is, and see he brings the Maior along. Enter the Maior, and
Catesby.

Buck. Lord Maior

Rich. Looke to the Draw-Bridge there

Buck. Hearke, a Drumme

Rich. Catesby, o're-looke the Walls

Buck. Lord Maior, the reason we haue sent

Rich. Looke back, defend thee, here are Enemies

Buck. God and our Innocencie defend, and guard vs. Enter Louell and
Ratcliffe, with Hastings Head.

Rich. Be patient, they are friends: Ratcliffe, and Louell

Louell. Here is the Head of that ignoble Traytor, The dangerous and
vnsuspected Hastings

Rich. So deare I lou'd the man, that I must weepe: I tooke him for
the plainest harmelesse Creature, That breath'd vpon the Earth, a
Christian. Made him my Booke, wherein my Soule recorded The Historie of
all her secret thoughts.

So smooth he dawb'd his Vice with shew of Vertue, That his apparant
open Guilt omitted,

I meane, his Conuersation with Shores Wife, He liu'd from all attainder
of suspects

Buck. Well, well, he was the couertst sheltred Traytor That euer
liu'd.

Would you imagine, or almost beleeue,

Wert not, that by great preseruation

We liue to tell it, that the subtill Traytor This day had plotted, in
the Councell-House, To murther me, and my good Lord of Gloster

Maior. Had he done so?

Rich. What? thinke you we are Turkes, or Infidels? Or that we would,
against the forme of Law, Proceed thus rashly in the Villaines death,
But that the extreme perill of the case,

The Peace of England, and our Persons safetie, Enforc'd vs to this
Execution

Maior. Now faire befall you, he deseru'd his death, And your good
Graces both haue well proceeded, To warne false Traytors from the like
Attempts

Buck. I neuer look'd for better at his hands, After he once fell in
with Mistresse Shore: Yet had we not determin'd he should dye,

Vntill your Lordship came to see his end, Which now the louing haste of
these our friends, Something against our meanings, haue preuented;
Because, my Lord, I would haue had you heard The Traytor speake, and
timorously confesse The manner and the purpose of his Treasons: That
you might well haue signify'd the same Vnto the Citizens, who haply
may

Misconster vs in him, and wayle his death

Ma. But, my good Lord, your Graces words shal serue, As well as I
had seene, and heard him speake: And doe not doubt, right Noble Princes
both, But Ile acquaint our dutious Citizens

With all your iust proceedings in this case

Rich. And to that end we wish'd your Lordship here, T' auoid the
Censures of the carping World

Buck. Which since you come too late of our intent, Yet witnesse what
you heare we did intend: And so, my good Lord Maior, we bid farwell.

Exit Maior.

Rich. Goe after, after, Cousin Buckingham. The Maior towards
Guild-Hall hyes him in all poste: There, at your meetest vantage of the
time, Inferre the Bastardie of Edwards Children: Tell them, how Edward
put to death a Citizen, Onely for saying, he would make his Sonne Heire
to the Crowne, meaning indeed his House, Which, by the Signe thereof,
was tearmed so. Moreouer, vrge his hatefull Luxurie,

And beastiall appetite in change of Lust, Which stretcht vnto their
Seruants, Daughters, Wiues, Euen where his raging eye, or sauage heart,
Without controll, lusted to make a prey.

Nay, for a need, thus farre come neere my Person: Tell them, when that
my Mother went with Child Of that insatiate Edward; Noble Yorke,

My Princely Father, then had Warres in France, And by true computation
of the time,

Found, that the Issue was not his begot:

Which well appeared in his Lineaments,

Being nothing like the Noble Duke, my Father: Yet touch this sparingly,
as 'twere farre off, Because, my Lord, you know my Mother liues

Buck. Doubt not, my Lord, Ile play the Orator, As if the Golden Fee,
for which I plead,

Were for my selfe: and so, my Lord, adue

Rich. If you thriue wel, bring them to Baynards Castle, Where you
shall finde me well accompanied With reuerend Fathers, and well-learned
Bishops

Buck. I goe, and towards three or foure a Clocke Looke for the Newes
that the Guild-Hall affoords.

Exit Buckingham.

Rich. Goe Louell with all speed to Doctor Shaw, Goe thou to Fryer
Penker, bid them both

Meet me within this houre at Baynards Castle. Enter.

Now will I goe to take some priuie order, To draw the Brats of Clarence
out of sight, And to giue order, that no manner person

Haue any time recourse vnto the Princes.

Exeunt.

Enter a Scriuener

Scr. Here is the Indictment of the good Lord Hastings, Which in a
set Hand fairely is engross'd, That it may be to day read o're in
Paules. And marke how well the sequell hangs together: Eleuen houres I
haue spent to write it ouer, For yester-night by Catesby was it sent
me, The Precedent was full as long a doing,

And yet within these fiue houres Hastings liu'd, Vntainted, vnexamin'd,
free, at libertie. Here's a good World the while.

Who is so grosse, that cannot see this palpable deuice? Yet who so
bold, but sayes he sees it not? Bad is the World, and all will come to
nought, When such ill dealing must be seene in thought. Enter.

Enter Richard and Buckingham at seuerall Doores.

Rich. How now, how now, what say the Citizens?   Buck. Now by the
holy Mother of our Lord, The Citizens are mum, say not a word

Rich. Toucht you the Bastardie of Edwards Children?   Buck. I did,
with his Contract with Lady Lucy, And his Contract by Deputie in
France,

Th' vnsatiate greedinesse of his desire,

And his enforcement of the Citie Wiues,

His Tyrannie for Trifles, his owne Bastardie, As being got, your Father
then in France, And his resemblance, being not like the Duke. Withall,
I did inferre your Lineaments,

Being the right Idea of your Father,

Both in your forme, and Noblenesse of Minde: Layd open all your
Victories in Scotland, Your Discipline in Warre, Wisdome in Peace, Your
Bountie, Vertue, faire Humilitie:

Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose, Vntoucht, or sleightly
handled in discourse. And when my Oratorie drew toward end,

I bid them that did loue their Countries good, Cry, God saue Richard,
Englands Royall King

Rich. And did they so?

Buck. No, so God helpe me, they spake not a word, But like dumbe
Statues, or breathing Stones, Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly
pale: Which when I saw, I reprehended them,

And ask'd the Maior, what meant this wilfull silence? His answer was,
the people were not vsed

To be spoke to, but by the Recorder.

Then he was vrg'd to tell my Tale againe: Thus sayth the Duke, thus
hath the Duke inferr'd, But nothing spoke, in warrant from himselfe.
When he had done, some followers of mine owne, At lower end of the
Hall, hurld vp their Caps, And some tenne voyces cry'd, God saue King
Richard: And thus I tooke the vantage of those few. Thankes gentle
Citizens, and friends, quoth I, This generall applause, and chearefull
showt, Argues your wisdome, and your loue to Richard: And euen here
brake off, and came away

Rich. What tongue-lesse Blockes were they, Would they not speake?

Will not the Maior then, and his Brethren, come?   Buck. The Maior is
here at hand: intend some feare, Be not you spoke with, but by mightie
suit: And looke you get a Prayer-Booke in your hand, And stand betweene
two Church-men, good my Lord, For on that ground Ile make a holy
Descant: And be not easily wonne to our requests,

Play the Maids part, still answer nay, and take it

Rich. I goe: and if you plead as well for them, As I can say nay to
thee for my selfe,

No doubt we bring it to a happie issue

Buck. Go, go vp to the Leads, the Lord Maior knocks. Enter the
Maior, and Citizens.

Welcome, my Lord, I dance attendance here, I thinke the Duke will not
be spoke withall. Enter Catesby.

Buck. Now Catesby, what sayes your Lord to my request?

Catesby. He doth entreat your Grace, my Noble Lord, To visit him to
morrow, or next day:

He is within, with two right reuerend Fathers, Diuinely bent to
Meditation,

And in no Worldly suites would he be mou'd, To draw him from his holy
Exercise

Buck. Returne, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke, Tell him, my
selfe, the Maior and Aldermen, In deepe designes, in matter of great
moment, No lesse importing then our generall good, Are come to haue
some conference with his Grace

Catesby. Ile signifie so much vnto him straight. Enter.

Buck. Ah ha, my Lord, this Prince is not an Edward, He is not lulling
on a lewd Loue-Bed,

But on his Knees, at Meditation:

Not dallying with a Brace of Curtizans,

But meditating with two deepe Diuines:

Not sleeping, to engrosse his idle Body,

But praying, to enrich his watchfull Soule. Happie were England, would
this vertuous Prince Take on his Grace the Soueraigntie thereof. But
sure I feare we shall not winne him to it

Maior. Marry God defend his Grace should say vs nay

Buck. I feare he will: here Catesby comes againe. Enter Catesby.

Now Catesby, what sayes his Grace?

Catesby. He wonders to what end you haue assembled Such troopes of
Citizens, to come to him, His Grace not being warn'd thereof before: He
feares, my Lord, you meane no good to him

Buck. Sorry I am, my Noble Cousin should Suspect me, that I meane no
good to him:

By Heauen, we come to him in perfit loue, And so once more returne, and
tell his Grace. Enter.

When holy and deuout Religious men

Are at their Beades, 'tis much to draw them thence, So sweet is zealous
Contemplation.

Enter Richard aloft, betweene two Bishops

Maior. See where his Grace stands, tweene two Clergie men

Buck. Two Props of Vertue, for a Christian Prince, To stay him from
the fall of Vanitie:

And see a Booke of Prayer in his hand,

True Ornaments to know a holy man.

Famous Plantagenet, most gracious Prince, Lend fauourable eare to our
requests,

And pardon vs the interruption

Of thy Deuotion, and right Christian Zeale

Rich. My Lord, there needes no such Apologie: I doe beseech your
Grace to pardon me,

Who earnest in the seruice of my God,

Deferr'd the visitation of my friends.

But leauing this, what is your Graces pleasure?   Buck. Euen that (I
hope) which pleaseth God aboue, And all good men, of this vngouern'd
Ile

Rich. I doe suspect I haue done some offence, That seemes
disgracious in the Cities eye, And that you come to reprehend my
ignorance

Buck. You haue, my Lord:

Would it might please your Grace,

On our entreaties, to amend your fault

Rich. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian Land

Buck. Know then, it is your fault, that you resigne The Supreme
Seat, the Throne Maiesticall, The Sceptred Office of your Ancestors,

Your State of Fortune, and your Deaw of Birth, The Lineall Glory of
your Royall House,

To the corruption of a blemisht Stock;

Whiles in the mildnesse of your sleepie thoughts, Which here we waken
to our Countries good, The Noble Ile doth want his proper Limmes: His
Face defac'd with skarres of Infamie, His Royall Stock grafft with
ignoble Plants, And almost shouldred in the swallowing Gulfe Of darke
Forgetfulnesse, and deepe Obliuion. Which to recure, we heartily
solicite

Your gracious selfe to take on you the charge And Kingly Gouernment of
this your Land:

Not as Protector, Steward, Substitute,

Or lowly Factor, for anothers gaine;

But as successiuely, from Blood to Blood, Your Right of Birth, your
Empyrie, your owne. For this, consorted with the Citizens,

Your very Worshipfull and louing friends, And by their vehement
instigation,

In this iust Cause come I to moue your Grace

Rich. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence, Or bitterly to speake
in your reproofe,

Best fitteth my Degree, or your Condition. If not to answer, you might
haply thinke, Tongue-ty'd Ambition, not replying, yeelded To beare the
Golden Yoake of Soueraigntie, Which fondly you would here impose on me.
If to reproue you for this suit of yours, So season'd with your
faithfull loue to me, Then on the other side I check'd my friends.
Therefore to speake, and to auoid the first, And then in speaking, not
to incurre the last, Definitiuely thus I answer you.

Your loue deserues my thankes, but my desert Vnmeritable, shunnes your
high request.

First, if all Obstacles were cut away,

And that my Path were euen to the Crowne, As the ripe Reuenue, and due
of Birth:

Yet so much is my pouertie of spirit,

So mightie, and so manie my defects,

That I would rather hide me from my Greatnesse, Being a Barke to brooke
no mightie Sea;

Then in my Greatnesse couet to be hid,

And in the vapour of my Glory smother'd.

But God be thank'd, there is no need of me, And much I need to helpe
you, were there need: The Royall Tree hath left vs Royall Fruit, Which
mellow'd by the stealing howres of time, Will well become the Seat of
Maiestie,

And make (no doubt) vs happy by his Reigne. On him I lay that, you
would lay on me,

The Right and Fortune of his happie Starres, Which God defend that I
should wring from him

Buck. My Lord, this argues Conscience in your Grace, But the
respects thereof are nice, and triuiall, All circumstances well
considered.

You say, that Edward is your Brothers Sonne, So say we too, but not by
Edwards Wife:

For first was he contract to Lady Lucie,

Your Mother liues a Witnesse to his Vow;

And afterward by substitute betroth'd

To Bona, Sister to the King of France.

These both put off, a poore Petitioner,

A Care-cras'd Mother to a many Sonnes,

A Beautie-waining, and distressed Widow,

Euen in the after-noone of her best dayes, Made prize and purchase of
his wanton Eye, Seduc'd the pitch, and height of his degree, To base
declension, and loath'd Bigamie.

By her, in his vnlawfull Bed, he got

This Edward, whom our Manners call the Prince. More bitterly could I
expostulate,

Saue that for reuerence to some aliue,

I giue a sparing limit to my Tongue.

Then good, my Lord, take to your Royall selfe This proffer'd benefit of
Dignitie:

If not to blesse vs and the Land withall, Yet to draw forth your Noble
Ancestrie

From the corruption of abusing times,

Vnto a Lineall true deriued course

Maior. Do good my Lord, your Citizens entreat you

Buck. Refuse not, mightie Lord, this proffer'd loue

Catesb. O make them ioyfull, grant their lawfull suit

Rich. Alas, why would you heape this Care on me? I am vnfit for
State, and Maiestie:

I doe beseech you take it not amisse,

I cannot, nor I will not yeeld to you

Buck. If you refuse it, as in loue and zeale, Loth to depose the
Child, your Brothers Sonne, As well we know your tendernesse of heart,
And gentle, kinde, effeminate remorse,

Which we haue noted in you to your Kindred, And egally indeede to all
Estates:

Yet know, where you accept our suit, or no, Your Brothers Sonne shall
neuer reigne our King, But we will plant some other in the Throne, To
the disgrace and downe-fall of your House: And in this resolution here
we leaue you. Come Citizens, we will entreat no more.

Exeunt.

Catesb. Call him againe, sweet Prince, accept their suit: If you
denie them, all the Land will rue it

Rich. Will you enforce me to a world of Cares. Call them againe, I
am not made of Stones, But penetrable to your kinde entreaties,

Albeit against my Conscience and my Soule. Enter Buckingham, and the
rest.

Cousin of Buckingham, and sage graue men, Since you will buckle fortune
on my back, To beare her burthen, where I will or no. I must haue
patience to endure the Load:

But if black Scandall, or foule-fac'd Reproach, Attend the sequell of
your Imposition,

Your meere enforcement shall acquittance me From all the impure blots
and staynes thereof; For God doth know, and you may partly see, How
farre I am from the desire of this

Maior. God blesse your Grace, wee see it, and will say it

Rich. In saying so, you shall but say the truth

Buck. Then I salute you with this Royall Title, Long liue King
Richard, Englands worthie King

All. Amen

Buck. To morrow may it please you to be Crown'd

Rich. Euen when you please, for you will haue it so

Buck. To morrow then we will attend your Grace, And so most ioyfully
we take our leaue

Rich. Come, let vs to our holy Worke againe. Farewell my Cousins,
farewell gentle friends.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.



Enter the Queene, Anne Duchesse of Gloucester, the Duchesse of Yorke,
and

Marquesse Dorset.

Duch.Yorke. Who meetes vs heere?

My Neece Plantagenet,

Led in the hand of her kind Aunt of Gloster? Now, for my Life, shee's
wandring to the Tower, On pure hearts loue, to greet the tender Prince.
Daughter, well met

Anne. God giue your Graces both, a happie And a ioyfull time of day

Qu. As much to you, good Sister: whither away?   Anne. No farther
then the Tower, and as I guesse, Vpon the like deuotion as your
selues,

To gratulate the gentle Princes there

Qu. Kind Sister thankes, wee'le enter all together: Enter the
Lieutenant.

And in good time, here the Lieutenant comes. Master Lieutenant, pray
you, by your leaue, How doth the Prince, and my young Sonne of Yorke?
Lieu. Right well, deare Madame: by your patience, I may not suffer you
to visit them,

The King hath strictly charg'd the contrary

Qu. The King? who's that?

Lieu. I meane, the Lord Protector

Qu. The Lord protect him from that Kingly Title. Hath he set bounds
betweene their loue, and me? I am their Mother, who shall barre me from
them?   Duch.Yorke. I am their Fathers Mother, I will see them

Anne. Their Aunt I am in law, in loue their Mother: Then bring me to
their sights, Ile beare thy blame, And take thy Office from thee, on my
perill

Lieu. No, Madame, no; I may not leaue it so: I am bound by Oath, and
therefore pardon me.

Exit Lieutenant.

Enter Stanley.

Stanley. Let me but meet you Ladies one howre hence, And Ile salute
your Grace of Yorke as Mother, And reuerend looker on of two faire
Queenes. Come Madame, you must straight to Westminster, There to be
crowned Richards Royall Queene

Qu. Ah, cut my Lace asunder,

That my pent heart may haue some scope to beat, Or else I swoone with
this dead-killing newes

Anne. Despightfull tidings, O vnpleasing newes

Dors. Be of good cheare: Mother, how fares your Grace?

Qu. O Dorset, speake not to me, get thee gone, Death and Destruction
dogges thee at thy heeles, Thy Mothers Name is ominous to Children.

If thou wilt out-strip Death, goe crosse the Seas, And liue with
Richmond, from the reach of Hell. Goe hye thee, hye thee from this
slaughter-house, Lest thou encrease the number of the dead, And make me
dye the thrall of Margarets Curse, Nor Mother, Wife, nor Englands
counted Queene

Stanley. Full of wise care, is this your counsaile, Madame: Take all
the swift aduantage of the howres: You shall haue Letters from me to my
Sonne, In your behalfe, to meet you on the way:

Be not ta'ne tardie by vnwise delay

Duch.Yorke. O ill dispersing Winde of Miserie. O my accursed Wombe,
the Bed of Death:

A Cockatrice hast thou hatcht to the World, Whose vnauoided Eye is
murtherous

Stanley. Come, Madame, come, I in all haste was sent

Anne. And I with all vnwillingnesse will goe. O would to God, that
the inclusiue Verge

Of Golden Mettall, that must round my Brow, Were red hot Steele, to
seare me to the Braines, Anoynted let me be with deadly Venome,

And dye ere men can say, God saue the Queene

Qu. Goe, goe, poore soule, I enuie not thy glory, To feed my humor,
wish thy selfe no harme

Anne. No: why? When he that is my Husband now, Came to me, as I
follow'd Henries Corse,

When scarce the blood was well washt from his hands, Which issued from
my other Angell Husband, And that deare Saint, which then I weeping
follow'd: O, when I say I look'd on Richards Face,

This was my Wish: Be thou (quoth I) accurst, For making me, so young,
so old a Widow:

And when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy Bed; And be thy Wife, if any
be so mad,

More miserable, by the Life of thee,

Then thou hast made me, by my deare Lords death. Loe, ere I can repeat
this Curse againe,

Within so small a time, my Womans heart

Grossely grew captiue to his honey words, And prou'd the subiect of
mine owne Soules Curse, Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest:
For neuer yet one howre in his Bed

Did I enioy the golden deaw of sleepe,

But with his timorous Dreames was still awak'd. Besides, he hates me
for my Father Warwicke, And will (no doubt) shortly be rid of me

Qu. Poore heart adieu, I pittie thy complaining

Anne. No more, then with my soule I mourne for yours

Dors. Farewell, thou wofull welcommer of glory

Anne. Adieu, poore soule, that tak'st thy leaue of it

Du.Y. Go thou to Richmond, & good fortune guide thee, Go thou to
Richard, and good Angels tend thee, Go thou to Sanctuarie, and good
thoughts possesse thee, I to my Graue, where peace and rest lye with
mee. Eightie odde yeeres of sorrow haue I seene, And each howres ioy
wrackt with a weeke of teene

Qu. Stay, yet looke backe with me vnto the Tower. Pitty, you ancient
Stones, those tender Babes, Whom Enuie hath immur'd within your Walls,
Rough Cradle for such little prettie ones, Rude ragged Nurse, old
sullen Play-fellow, For tender Princes: vse my Babies well;

So foolish Sorrowes bids your Stones farewell.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Sound a Sennet. Enter Richard in pompe, Buckingham, Catesby,
Ratcliffe,

Louel.

Rich. Stand all apart. Cousin of Buckingham

Buck. My gracious Soueraigne

Rich. Giue me thy hand.

Sound.

Thus high, by thy aduice, and thy assistance, Is King Richard seated:

But shall we weare these Glories for a day? Or shall they last, and we
reioyce in them?   Buck. Still liue they, and for euer let them last

Rich. Ah Buckingham, now doe I play the Touch, To trie if thou be
currant Gold indeed:

Young Edward liues, thinke now what I would speake

Buck. Say on my louing Lord

Rich. Why Buckingham, I say I would be King

Buck. Why so you are, my thrice-renowned Lord

Rich. Ha? am I King? 'tis so: but Edward liues

Buck True, Noble Prince

Rich. O bitter consequence!

That Edward still should liue true Noble Prince. Cousin, thou wast not
wont to be so dull. Shall I be plaine? I wish the Bastards dead, And I
would haue it suddenly perform'd.

What say'st thou now? speake suddenly, be briefe

Buck. Your Grace may doe your pleasure

Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all Ice, thy kindnesse freezes: Say, haue I
thy consent, that they shall dye?   Buc. Giue me some litle breath,
some pawse, deare Lord, Before I positiuely speake in this:

I will resolue you herein presently.

Exit Buck[ingham].

Catesby. The King is angry, see he gnawes his Lippe

Rich. I will conuerse with Iron-witted Fooles, And vnrespectiue
Boyes: none are for me,

That looke into me with considerate eyes, High-reaching Buckingham
growes circumspect. Boy

Page. My Lord

Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting Gold Will tempt vnto a
close exploit of Death?   Page. I know a discontented Gentleman,

Whose humble meanes match not his haughtie spirit: Gold were as good as
twentie Orators,

And will (no doubt) tempt him to any thing

Rich. What is his Name?

Page. His Name, my Lord, is Tirrell

Rich. I partly know the man: goe call him hither, Boy.

Enter.

The deepe reuoluing wittie Buckingham,

No more shall be the neighbor to my counsailes. Hath he so long held
out with me, vntyr'd, And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so.
Enter Stanley.

How now, Lord Stanley, what's the newes?

Stanley. Know my louing Lord, the Marquesse Dorset As I heare, is
fled to Richmond,

In the parts where he abides

Rich. Come hither Catesby, rumor it abroad, That Anne my Wife is
very grieuous sicke, I will take order for her keeping close.

Inquire me out some meane poore Gentleman, Whom I will marry straight
to Clarence Daughter: The Boy is foolish, and I feare not him.

Looke how thou dream'st: I say againe, giue out, That Anne, my Queene,
is sicke, and like to dye. About it, for it stands me much vpon

To stop all hopes, whose growth may dammage me. I must be marryed to my
Brothers Daughter, Or else my Kingdome stands on brittle Glasse:
Murther her Brothers, and then marry her, Vncertaine way of gaine. But
I am in

So farre in blood, that sinne will pluck on sinne, Teare-falling Pittie
dwells not in this Eye. Enter Tyrrel.

Is thy Name Tyrrel?

Tyr. Iames Tyrrel, and your most obedient subiect

Rich. Art thou indeed?

Tyr. Proue me, my gracious Lord

Rich. Dar'st thou resolue to kill a friend of mine?   Tyr. Please
you:

But I had rather kill two enemies

Rich. Why then thou hast it: two deepe enemies, Foes to my Rest, and
my sweet sleepes disturbers, Are they that I would haue thee deale
vpon: Tyrrel, I meane those Bastards in the Tower

Tyr. Let me haue open meanes to come to them, And soone Ile rid you
from the feare of them

Rich. Thou sing'st sweet Musique:

Hearke, come hither Tyrrel,

Goe by this token: rise, and lend thine Eare,

Whispers.

There is no more but so: say it is done,

And I will loue thee, and preferre thee for it

Tyr. I will dispatch it straight.

Enter.

Enter Buckingham.

Buck. My Lord, I haue consider'd in my minde, The late request that
you did sound me in

Rich. Well, let that rest: Dorset is fled to Richmond

Buck. I heare the newes, my Lord

Rich. Stanley, hee is your Wiues Sonne: well, looke vnto it

Buck. My Lord, I clayme the gift, my due by promise, For which your
Honor and your Faith is pawn'd, Th' Earledome of Hertford, and the
moueables, Which you haue promised I shall possesse

Rich. Stanley looke to your Wife: if she conuey Letters to Richmond,
you shall answer it

Buck. What sayes your Highnesse to my iust request?   Rich. I doe
remember me, Henry the Sixt Did prophecie, that Richmond should be
King, When Richmond was a little peeuish Boy.

A King perhaps

Buck. May it please you to resolue me in my suit

Rich. Thou troublest me, I am not in the vaine. Enter

Buck. And is it thus? repayes he my deepe seruice With such
contempt? made I him King for this? O let me thinke on Hastings, and be
gone

To Brecnock, while my fearefull Head is on. Enter.

Enter Tyrrel.

Tyr. The tyrannous and bloodie Act is done, The most arch deed of
pittious massacre

That euer yet this Land was guilty of:

Dighton and Forrest, who I did suborne

To do this peece of ruthfull Butchery,

Albeit they were flesht Villaines, bloody Dogges, Melted with
tendernesse, and milde compassion, Wept like to Children, in their
deaths sad Story. O thus (quoth Dighton) lay the gentle Babes: Thus,
thus (quoth Forrest) girdling one another Within their Alablaster
innocent Armes:

Their lips were foure red Roses on a stalke, And in their Summer Beauty
kist each other. A Booke of Prayers on their pillow lay,

Which one (quoth Forrest) almost chang'd my minde: But oh the Diuell,
there the Villaine stopt: When Dighton thus told on, we smothered

The most replenished sweet worke of Nature, That from the prime
Creation ere she framed. Hence both are gone with Conscience and
Remorse, They could not speake, and so I left them both, To beare this
tydings to the bloody King. Enter Richard.

And heere he comes. All health my Soueraigne Lord

Ric. Kinde Tirrell, am I happy in thy Newes

Tir. If to haue done the thing you gaue in charge, Beget your
happinesse, be happy then,

For it is done

Rich. But did'st thou see them dead

Tir. I did my Lord

Rich. And buried gentle Tirrell

Tir. The Chaplaine of the Tower hath buried them, But where (to say
the truth) I do not know

Rich. Come to me Tirrel soone, and after Supper, When thou shalt
tell the processe of their death. Meane time, but thinke how I may do
the good, And be inheritor of thy desire.

Farewell till then

Tir. I humbly take my leaue

Rich. The Sonne of Clarence haue I pent vp close, His daughter
meanly haue I matcht in marriage, The Sonnes of Edward sleepe in
Abrahams bosome, And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night. Now
for I know the Britaine Richmond aymes At yong Elizabeth my brothers
daughter,

And by that knot lookes proudly on the Crowne, To her go I, a iolly
thriuing wooer.

Enter Ratcliffe.

Rat. My Lord

Rich. Good or bad newes, that thou com'st in so bluntly?

Rat. Bad news my Lord, Mourton is fled to Richmond, And Buckingham
backt with the hardy Welshmen Is in the field, and still his power
encreaseth

Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more neere, Then Buckingham and
his rash leuied Strength. Come, I haue learn'd, that fearfull
commenting Is leaden seruitor to dull delay.

Delay leds impotent and Snaile-pac'd Beggery: Then fierie expedition be
my wing,

Ioues Mercury, and Herald for a King:

Go muster men: My counsaile is my Sheeld, We must be breefe, when
Traitors braue the Field.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter old Queene Margaret

Mar. So now prosperity begins to mellow, And drop into the rotten
mouth of death:

Heere in these Confines slily haue I lurkt, To watch the waining of
mine enemies.

A dire induction, am I witnesse to,

And will to France, hoping the consequence Will proue as bitter,
blacke, and Tragicall. Withdraw thee wretched Margaret, who comes
heere? Enter Dutchesse and Queene.

Qu. Ah my poore Princes! ah my tender Babes: My vnblowed Flowres, new
appearing sweets: If yet your gentle soules flye in the Ayre, And be
not fixt in doome perpetuall,

Houer about me with your ayery wings,

And heare your mothers Lamentation

Mar. Houer about her, say that right for right Hath dim'd your
Infant morne, to Aged night

Dut. So many miseries haue craz'd my voyce, That my woe-wearied
tongue is still and mute. Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, Edward for Edward, payes a
dying debt

Qu. Wilt thou, O God, flye from such gentle Lambs, And throw them in
the intrailes of the Wolfe? When didst thou sleepe, when such a deed
was done?   Mar. When holy Harry dyed, and my sweet Sonne

Dut. Dead life, blind sight, poore mortall liuing ghost, Woes Scene,
Worlds shame, Graues due, by life vsurpt, Breefe abstract and record of
tedious dayes, Rest thy vnrest on Englands lawfull earth, Vnlawfully
made drunke with innocent blood

Qu. Ah that thou would'st assoone affoord a Graue, As thou canst
yeeld a melancholly seate:

Then would I hide my bones, not rest them heere, Ah who hath any cause
to mourne but wee?

Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reuerent, Giue mine the benefit of
signeurie,

And let my greefes frowne on the vpper hand If sorrow can admit
Society.

I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him: I had a Husband, till a
Richard kill'd him: Thou had'st an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou had'st a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him

Dut. I had a Richard too, and thou did'st kill him; I had a Rutland
too, thou hop'st to kill him

Mar. Thou had'st a Clarence too,

And Richard kill'd him.

From forth the kennell of thy wombe hath crept A Hell-hound that doth
hunt vs all to death: That Dogge, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry Lambes, and lap their gentle blood: That foule defacer of Gods
handy worke:

That reignes in gauled eyes of weeping soules: That excellent grand
Tyrant of the earth, Thy wombe let loose to chase vs to our graues. O
vpright, iust, and true-disposing God,

How do I thanke thee, that this carnall Curre Prayes on the issue of
his Mothers body,

And makes her Pue-fellow with others mone

Dut. Oh Harries wife, triumph not in my woes: God witnesse with me,
I haue wept for thine

Mar. Beare with me: I am hungry for reuenge, And now I cloy me with
beholding it.

Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward, The other Edward dead, to
quit my Edward: Yong Yorke, he is but boote, because both they Matcht
not the high perfection of my losse. Thy Clarence he is dead, that
stab'd my Edward, And the beholders of this franticke play, Th'
adulterate Hastings, Riuers, Vaughan, Gray, Vntimely smother'd in their
dusky Graues. Richard yet liues, Hels blacke Intelligencer, Onely
reseru'd their Factor, to buy soules, And send them thither: But at
hand, at hand Insues his pittious and vnpittied end.

Earth gapes, Hell burnes, Fiends roare, Saints pray, To haue him
sodainly conuey'd from hence: Cancell his bond of life, deere God I
pray, That I may liue and say, The Dogge is dead

Qu. O thou did'st prophesie, the time would come, That I should wish
for thee to helpe me curse That bottel'd Spider, that foule
bunch-back'd Toad

Mar. I call'd thee then, vaine flourish of my fortune: I call'd thee
then, poore Shadow, painted Queen, The presentation of but what I was;

The flattering Index of a direfull Pageant; One heau'd a high, to be
hurl'd downe below: A Mother onely mockt with two faire Babes; A dreame
of what thou wast, a garish Flagge To be the ayme of euery dangerous
Shot;

A signe of Dignity, a Breath, a Bubble;

A Queene in ieast, onely to fill the Scene. Where is thy Husband now?
Where be thy Brothers? Where be thy two Sonnes? Wherein dost thou Ioy?
Who sues, and kneeles, and sayes, God saue the Queene? Where be the
bending Peeres that flattered thee? Where be the thronging Troopes that
followed thee? Decline all this, and see what now thou art. For happy
Wife, a most distressed Widdow: For ioyfull Mother, one that wailes the
name: For one being sued too, one that humbly sues: For Queene, a very
Caytiffe, crown'd with care: For she that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of
me: For she being feared of all, now fearing one: For she commanding
all, obey'd of none.

Thus hath the course of Iustice whirl'd about, And left thee but a very
prey to time,

Hauing no more but Thought of what thou wast. To torture thee the more,
being what thou art, Thou didst vsurpe my place, and dost thou not
Vsurpe the iust proportion of my Sorrow?

Now thy proud Necke, beares halfe my burthen'd yoke, From which, euen
heere I slip my wearied head, And leaue the burthen of it all, on thee.
Farwell Yorkes wife, and Queene of sad mischance, These English woes,
shall make me smile in France

Qu. O thou well skill'd in Curses, stay a-while, And teach me how to
curse mine enemies

Mar. Forbeare to sleepe the night, and fast the day: Compare dead
happinesse, with liuing woe: Thinke that thy Babes were sweeter then
they were, And he that slew them fowler then he is:

Bett'ring thy losse, makes the bad causer worse, Reuoluing this, will
teach thee how to Curse

Qu. My words are dull, O quicken them with thine

Mar. Thy woes will make them sharpe,

And pierce like mine.

Exit Margaret.

Dut. Why should calamity be full of words?   Qu. Windy Atturnies to
their Clients Woes, Ayery succeeders of intestine ioyes,

Poore breathing Orators of miseries,

Let them haue scope, though what they will impart, Helpe nothing els,
yet do they ease the hart

Dut. If so then, be not Tongue-ty'd: go with me, And in the breath
of bitter words, let's smother My damned Son, that thy two sweet Sonnes
smother'd. The Trumpet sounds, be copious in exclaimes. Enter King
Richard, and his Traine.

Rich. Who intercepts me in my Expedition?   Dut. O she, that might
haue intercepted thee By strangling thee in her accursed wombe, From
all the slaughters (Wretch) that thou hast done

Qu. Hid'st thou that Forhead with a Golden Crowne Where't should be
branded, if that right were right? The slaughter of the Prince that
ow'd that Crowne, And the dyre death of my poore Sonnes, and Brothers.
Tell me thou Villaine-slaue, where are my Children?   Dut. Thou Toad,
thou Toade,

Where is thy Brother Clarence?

And little Ned Plantagenet his Sonne?

Qu. Where is the gentle Riuers, Vaughan, Gray?   Dut. Where is kinde
Hastings?

Rich. A flourish Trumpets, strike Alarum Drummes: Let not the Heauens
heare these Tell-tale women Raile on the Lords Annointed. Strike I
say.

Flourish. Alarums.

Either be patient, and intreat me fayre,

Or with the clamorous report of Warre,

Thus will I drowne your exclamations

Dut. Art thou my Sonne?

Rich. I, I thanke God, my Father, and your selfe

Dut. Then patiently heare my impatience

Rich. Madam, I haue a touch of your condition, That cannot brooke
the accent of reproofe

Dut. O let me speake

Rich. Do then, but Ile not heare

Dut. I will be milde, and gentle in my words

Rich. And breefe (good Mother) for I am in hast

Dut. Art thou so hasty? I haue staid for thee (God knowes) in
torment and in agony

Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you?   Dut. No by the holy
Rood, thou know'st it well, Thou cam'st on earth, to make the earth my
Hell. A greeuous burthen was thy Birth to me,

Tetchy and wayward was thy Infancie.

Thy School-daies frightfull, desp'rate, wilde, and furious, Thy prime
of Manhood, daring, bold, and venturous: Thy Age confirm'd, proud,
subtle, slye, and bloody, More milde, but yet more harmfull; Kinde in
hatred: What comfortable houre canst thou name,

That euer grac'd me with thy company?

Rich. Faith none, but Humfrey Hower,

That call'd your Grace

To Breakefast once, forth of my company.

If I be so disgracious in your eye,

Let me march on, and not offend you Madam. Strike vp the Drumme

Dut. I prythee heare me speake

Rich. You speake too bitterly

Dut. Heare me a word:

For I shall neuer speake to thee againe

Rich. So

Dut. Either thou wilt dye, by Gods iust ordinance Ere from this
warre thou turne a Conqueror: Or I with greefe and extreame Age shall
perish, And neuer more behold thy face againe.

Therefore take with thee my most greeuous Curse, Which in the day of
Battell tyre thee more Then all the compleat Armour that thou wear'st.
My Prayers on the aduerse party fight,

And there the little soules of Edwards Children, Whisper the Spirits of
thine Enemies,

And promise them Successe and Victory:

Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end:

Shame serues thy life, and doth thy death attend. Enter.

Qu. Though far more cause, yet much lesse spirit to curse Abides in
me, I say Amen to her

Rich. Stay Madam, I must talke a word with you

Qu. I haue no more sonnes of the Royall Blood For thee to slaughter.
For my Daughters (Richard) They shall be praying Nunnes, not weeping
Queenes: And therefore leuell not to hit their liues

Rich. You haue a daughter call'd Elizabeth, Vertuous and Faire,
Royall and Gracious?

Qu. And must she dye for this? O let her liue, And Ile corrupt her
Manners, staine her Beauty, Slander my Selfe, as false to Edwards bed:
Throw ouer her the vaile of Infamy,

So she may liue vnscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, I will confesse she
was not Edwards daughter

Rich. Wrong not her Byrth, she is a Royall Princesse

Qu. To saue her life, Ile say she is not so

Rich. Her life is safest onely in her byrth

Qu. And onely in that safety, dyed her Brothers

Rich. Loe at their Birth, good starres were opposite

Qu. No, to their liues, ill friends were contrary

Rich. All vnauoyded is the doome of Destiny

Qu. True: when auoyded grace makes Destiny. My Babes were destin'd
to a fairer death, If grace had blest thee with a fairer life

Rich. You speake as if that I had slaine my Cosins?   Qu. Cosins
indeed, and by their Vnckle couzend, Of Comfort, Kingdome, Kindred,
Freedome, Life, Whose hand soeuer lanch'd their tender hearts, Thy head
(all indirectly) gaue direction. No doubt the murd'rous Knife was dull
and blunt, Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart, To reuell in
the Intrailes of my Lambes.

But that still vse of greefe, makes wilde greefe tame, My tongue should
to thy eares not name my Boyes, Till that my Nayles were anchor'd in
thine eyes: And I in such a desp'rate Bay of death,

Like a poore Barke, of sailes and tackling reft, Rush all to peeces on
thy Rocky bosome

Rich. Madam, so thriue I in my enterprize And dangerous successe of
bloody warres,

As I intend more good to you and yours,

Then euer you and yours by me were harm'd

Qu. What good is couer'd with the face of heauen, To be discouered,
that can do me good

Rich. Th' aduancement of your children, gentle Lady   Qu. Vp to some
Scaffold, there to lose their heads

Rich. Vnto the dignity and height of Fortune, The high Imperiall
Type of this earths glory

Qu. Flatter my sorrow with report of it: Tell me, what State, what
Dignity, what Honor, Canst thou demise to any childe of mine

Rich. Euen all I haue; I, and my selfe and all, Will I withall indow
a childe of thine:

So in the Lethe of thy angry soule,

Thou drowne the sad remembrance of those wrongs, Which thou supposest I
haue done to thee

Qu. Be breefe, least that the processe of thy kindnesse Last longer
telling then thy kindnesse date

Rich. Then know,

That from my Soule, I loue thy Daughter

Qu. My daughters Mother thinkes it with her soule

Rich. What do you thinke?

Qu. That thou dost loue my daughter from thy soule So from thy Soules
loue didst thou loue her Brothers, And from my hearts loue, I do thanke
thee for it

Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning: I meane that with my
Soule I loue thy daughter, And do intend to make her Queene of England

Qu. Well then, who dost y meane shallbe her King

Rich. Euen he that makes her Queene:

Who else should bee?

Qu. What, thou?

Rich. Euen so: How thinke you of it?

Qu. How canst thou woo her?

Rich. That I would learne of you,

As one being best acquainted with her humour

Qu. And wilt thou learne of me?

Rich. Madam, with all my heart

Qu. Send to her by the man that slew her Brothers. A paire of
bleeding hearts: thereon ingraue Edward and Yorke, then haply will she
weepe: Therefore present to her, as sometime Margaret Did to thy
Father, steept in Rutlands blood, A hand-kercheefe, which say to her
did dreyne The purple sappe from her sweet Brothers body, And bid her
wipe her weeping eyes withall. If this inducement moue her not to
loue,

Send her a Letter of thy Noble deeds:

Tell her, thou mad'st away her Vnckle Clarence, Her Vnckle Riuers, I
(and for her sake)

Mad'st quicke conueyance with her good Aunt Anne

Rich. You mocke me Madam, this not the way To win your daughter

Qu. There is no other way,

Vnlesse thou could'st put on some other shape, And not be Richard, that
hath done all this

Ric. Say that I did all this for loue of her

Qu. Nay then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee Hauing bought
loue, with such a bloody spoyle

Rich. Looke what is done, cannot be now amended: Men shall deale
vnaduisedly sometimes,

Which after-houres giues leysure to repent. If I did take the Kingdome
from your Sonnes, To make amends, Ile giue it to your daughter: If I
haue kill'd the issue of your wombe, To quicken your encrease, I will
beget

Mine yssue of your blood, vpon your Daughter: A Grandams name is little
lesse in loue,

Then is the doting Title of a Mother;

They are as Children but one steppe below, Euen of your mettall, of
your very blood: Of all one paine, saue for a night of groanes Endur'd
of her, for whom you bid like sorrow. Your Children were vexation to
your youth, But mine shall be a comfort to your Age,

The losse you haue, is but a Sonne being King, And by that losse, your
Daughter is made Queene. I cannot make you what amends I would,

Therefore accept such kindnesse as I can. Dorset your Sonne, that with
a fearfull soule Leads discontented steppes in Forraine soyle, This
faire Alliance, quickly shall call home To high Promotions, and great
Dignity.

The King that calles your beauteous Daughter Wife, Familiarly shall
call thy Dorset, Brother: Againe shall you be Mother to a King:

And all the Ruines of distressefull Times, Repayr'd with double Riches
of Content.

What? we haue many goodly dayes to see:

The liquid drops of Teares that you haue shed, Shall come againe,
transform'd to Orient Pearle, Aduantaging their Loue, with interest

Often-times double gaine of happinesse.

Go then (my Mother) to thy Daughter go,

Make bold her bashfull yeares, with your experience, Prepare her eares
to heare a Woers Tale.

Put in her tender heart, th' aspiring Flame Of Golden Soueraignty:
Acquaint the Princesse With the sweet silent houres of Marriage ioyes:
And when this Arme of mine hath chastised The petty Rebell,
dull-brain'd Buckingham, Bound with Triumphant Garlands will I come,
And leade thy daughter to a Conquerors bed: To whom I will retaile my
Conquest wonne, And she shalbe sole Victoresse, Csars Csar

Qu. What were I best to say, her Fathers Brother Would be her Lord?
Or shall I say her Vnkle? Or he that slew her Brothers, and her Vnkles?
Vnder what Title shall I woo for thee,

That God, the Law, my Honor, and her Loue, Can make seeme pleasing to
her tender yeares?   Rich. Inferre faire Englands peace by this
Alliance

Qu. Which she shall purchase with stil lasting warre

Rich. Tell her, the King that may command, intreats

Qu. That at her hands, which the kings King forbids

Rich. Say she shall be a High and Mighty Queene

Qu. To vaile the Title, as her Mother doth

Rich. Say I will loue her euerlastingly

Qu. But how long shall that title euer last?   Rich. Sweetly in
force, vnto her faire liues end

Qu. But how long fairely shall her sweet life last?   Rich. As long
as Heauen and Nature lengthens it

Qu. As long as Hell and Richard likes of it

Rich. Say, I her Soueraigne, am her Subiect low

Qu. But she your Subiect, lothes such Soueraignty

Rich. Be eloquent in my behalfe to her

Qu. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told

Rich. Then plainly to her, tell my louing tale

Qu. Plaine and not honest, is too harsh a style

Rich. Your Reasons are too shallow, and to quicke

Qu. O no, my Reasons are too deepe and dead, Too deepe and dead
(poore Infants) in their graues, Harpe on it still shall I, till
heart-strings breake

Rich. Harpe not on that string Madam, that is past. Now by my
George, my Garter, and my Crowne

Qu. Prophan'd, dishonor'd, and the third vsurpt

Rich. I sweare

Qu. By nothing, for this is no Oath:

Thy George prophan'd, hath lost his Lordly Honor; Thy Garter blemish'd,
pawn'd his Knightly Vertue; Thy Crowne vsurp'd, disgrac'd his Kingly
Glory: If something thou would'st sweare to be beleeu'd, Sweare then by
something, that thou hast not wrong'd

Rich. Then by my Selfe

Qu. Thy Selfe, is selfe-misvs'd

Rich. Now by the World

Qu. 'Tis full of thy foule wrongs

Rich. My Fathers death

Qu. Thy life hath it dishonor'd

Rich. Why then, by Heauen

Qu. Heauens wrong is most of all:

If thou didd'st feare to breake an Oath with him, The vnity the King my
husband made,

Thou had'st not broken, nor my Brothers died. If thou had'st fear'd to
breake an oath by him, Th' Imperiall mettall, circling now thy head,
Had grac'd the tender temples of my Child, And both the Princes had
bene breathing heere, Which now two tender Bed-fellowes for dust, Thy
broken Faith hath made the prey for Wormes. What can'st thou sweare by
now

Rich. The time to come

Qu. That thou hast wronged in the time ore-past: For I my selfe haue
many teares to wash

Heereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee. The Children liue,
whose Fathers thou hast slaughter'd, Vngouern'd youth, to waile it with
their age: The Parents liue, whose Children thou hast butcher'd, Old
barren Plants, to waile it with their Age. Sweare not by time to come,
for that thou hast Misvs'd ere vs'd, by times ill-vs'd repast

Rich. As I entend to prosper, and repent: So thriue I in my
dangerous Affayres

Of hostile Armes: My selfe, my selfe confound: Heauen, and Fortune
barre me happy houres: Day, yeeld me not thy light; nor Night, thy
rest. Be opposite all Planets of good lucke

To my proceeding, if with deere hearts loue, Immaculate deuotion, holy
thoughts,

I tender not thy beautious Princely daughter. In her, consists my
Happinesse, and thine: Without her, followes to my selfe, and thee; Her
selfe, the Land, and many a Christian soule, Death, Desolation, Ruine,
and Decay:

It cannot be auoyded, but by this:

It will not be auoyded, but by this.

Therefore deare Mother (I must call you so) Be the Atturney of my loue
to her:

Pleade what I will be, not what I haue beene; Not my deserts, but what
I will deserue:

Vrge the Necessity and state of times,

And be not peeuish found, in great Designes

Qu. Shall I be tempted of the Diuel thus?   Rich. I, if the Diuell
tempt you to do good

Qu. Shall I forget my selfe, to be my selfe

Rich. I, if your selfes remembrance wrong your selfe

Qu. Yet thou didst kil my Children

Rich. But in your daughters wombe I bury them. Where in that Nest of
Spicery they will breed Selues of themselues, to your recomforture

Qu. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?   Rich. And be a happy
Mother by the deed

Qu. I go, write to me very shortly,

And you shal vnderstand from me her mind.

Exit Q[ueene].

Rich. Beare her my true loues kisse, and so farewell. Relenting
Foole, and shallow-changing Woman. How now, what newes?

Enter Ratcliffe.

Rat. Most mightie Soueraigne, on the Westerne Coast Rideth a puissant
Nauie: to our Shores

Throng many doubtfull hollow-hearted friends, Vnarm'd, and vnresolu'd
to beat them backe. 'Tis thought, that Richmond is their Admirall: And
there they hull, expecting but the aide Of Buckingham, to welcome them
ashore

Rich. Some light-foot friend post to y Duke of Norfolk: Ratcliffe
thy selfe, or Catesby, where is hee?   Cat. Here, my good Lord

Rich. Catesby, flye to the Duke

Cat. I will, my Lord, with all conuenient haste

Rich. Catesby come hither, poste to Salisbury: When thou com'st
thither: Dull vnmindfull Villaine, Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not
to the Duke?   Cat. First, mighty Liege, tell me your Highnesse
pleasure, What from your Grace I shall deliuer to him

Rich. O true, good Catesby, bid him leuie straight The greatest
strength and power that he can make, And meet me suddenly at Salisbury

Cat. I goe.

Enter.

Rat. What, may it please you, shall I doe at Salisbury?   Rich. Why,
what would'st thou doe there, before I goe?

Rat. Your Highnesse told me I should poste before

Rich. My minde is chang'd:

Enter Lord Stanley.

Stanley, what newes with you?

Sta. None, good my Liege, to please you with y hearing, Nor none so
bad, but well may be reported

Rich. Hoyday, a Riddle, neither good nor bad: What need'st thou
runne so many miles about, When thou mayest tell thy Tale the neerest
way? Once more, what newes?

Stan. Richmond is on the Seas

Rich. There let him sinke, and be the Seas on him, White-liuer'd
Runnagate, what doth he there?   Stan. I know not, mightie Soueraigne,
but by guesse

Rich. Well, as you guesse

Stan. Stirr'd vp by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, He makes for
England, here to clayme the Crowne

Rich. Is the Chayre emptie? is the Sword vnsway'd? Is the King dead?
the Empire vnpossest?

What Heire of Yorke is there aliue, but wee? And who is Englands King,
but great Yorkes Heire? Then tell me, what makes he vpon the Seas?
Stan. Vnlesse for that, my Liege, I cannot guesse

Rich. Vnlesse for that he comes to be your Liege, You cannot guesse
wherefore the Welchman comes. Thou wilt reuolt, and flye to him, I
feare

Stan. No, my good Lord, therefore mistrust me not

Rich. Where is thy Power then, to beat him back? Where be thy
Tenants, and thy followers?

Are they not now vpon the Westerne Shore, Safe-conducting the Rebels
from their Shippes?   Stan. No, my good Lord, my friends are in the
North

Rich. Cold friends to me: what do they in the North, When they
should serue their Soueraigne in the West?   Stan. They haue not been
commanded, mighty King: Pleaseth your Maiestie to giue me leaue,

Ile muster vp my friends, and meet your Grace, Where, and what time
your Maiestie shall please

Rich. I, thou would'st be gone, to ioyne with Richmond: But Ile not
trust thee

Stan. Most mightie Soueraigne,

You haue no cause to hold my friendship doubtfull, I neuer was, nor
neuer will be false

Rich. Goe then, and muster men: but leaue behind Your Sonne George
Stanley: looke your heart be firme, Or else his Heads assurance is but
fraile

Stan. So deale with him, as I proue true to you.

Exit Stanley.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My gracious Soueraigne, now in Deuonshire, As I by friends am
well aduertised,

Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughtie Prelate, Bishop of Exeter, his
elder Brother,

With many moe Confederates, are in Armes. Enter another Messenger

Mess. In Kent, my Liege, the Guilfords are in Armes, And euery houre
more Competitors

Flocke to the Rebels, and their power growes strong. Enter another
Messenger.

Mess. My Lord, the Armie of great Buckingham

Rich. Out on ye, Owles, nothing but Songs of Death,

He striketh him.

There, take thou that, till thou bring better newes

Mess. The newes I haue to tell your Maiestie, Is, that by sudden
Floods, and fall of Waters, Buckinghams Armie is dispers'd and
scatter'd, And he himselfe wandred away alone,

No man knowes whither

Rich. I cry thee mercie:

There is my Purse, to cure that Blow of thine. Hath any well-aduised
friend proclaym'd

Reward to him that brings the Traytor in?   Mess. Such Proclamation
hath been made, my Lord. Enter another Messenger.

Mess. Sir Thomas Louell, and Lord Marquesse Dorset, 'Tis said, my
Liege, in Yorkeshire are in Armes: But this good comfort bring I to
your Highnesse, The Brittaine Nauie is dispers'd by Tempest. Richmond
in Dorsetshire sent out a Boat

Vnto the shore, to aske those on the Banks, If they were his
Assistants, yea, or no?

Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham, Vpon his partie: he
mistrusting them,

Hoys'd sayle, and made his course againe for Brittaine

Rich. March on, march on, since we are vp in Armes, If not to fight
with forraine Enemies,

Yet to beat downe these Rebels here at home. Enter Catesby.

Cat. My Liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken, That is the best
newes: that the Earle of Richmond Is with a mighty power Landed at
Milford, Is colder Newes, but yet they must be told

Rich. Away towards Salsbury, while we reason here, A Royall battell
might be wonne and lost: Some one take order Buckingham be brought To
Salsbury, the rest march on with me.

Florish. Exeunt

Scena Quarta.

Enter Derby, and Sir Christopher.

Der. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me, That in the stye of
the most deadly Bore, My Sonne George Stanley is frankt vp in hold: If
I reuolt, off goes yong Georges head,

The feare of that, holds off my present ayde. So get thee gone: commend
me to thy Lord. Withall say, that the Queene hath heartily consented He
should espouse Elizabeth hir daughter. But tell me, where is Princely
Richmond now?   Chri. At Penbroke, or at Hertford West in Wales

Der. What men of Name resort to him

Chri. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned Souldier, Sir Gilbert Talbot,
Sir William Stanley,

Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir Iames Blunt, And Rice ap Thomas, with a
valiant Crew,

And many other of great name and worth:

And towards London do they bend their power, If by the way they be not
fought withall

Der. Well hye thee to thy Lord: I kisse his hand, My Letter will
resolue him of my minde.

Farewell.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Buckingham with Halberds, led to Execution.

Buc. Will not King Richard let me speake with him?   Sher. No my good
Lord, therefore be patient

Buc. Hastings, and Edwards children, Gray & Riuers, Holy King Henry,
and thy faire Sonne Edward, Vaughan, and all that haue miscarried

By vnder-hand corrupted foule iniustice,

If that your moody discontented soules,

Do through the clowds behold this present houre, Euen for reuenge mocke
my destruction.

This is All-soules day (Fellow) is it not?   Sher. It is

Buc. Why then Al-soules day, is my bodies doomsday This is the day,
which in King Edwards time I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found
False to his Children, and his Wiues Allies. This is the day, wherein I
wisht to fall

By the false Faith of him whom most I trusted. This, this All-soules
day to my fearfull Soule, Is the determin'd respit of my wrongs:

That high All-seer, which I dallied with, Hath turn'd my fained Prayer
on my head,

And giuen in earnest, what I begg'd in iest. Thus doth he force the
swords of wicked men To turne their owne points in their Masters
bosomes. Thus Margarets curse falles heauy on my necke: When he (quoth
she) shall split thy heart with sorrow, Remember Margaret was a
Prophetesse:

Come leade me Officers to the blocke of shame, Wrong hath but wrong,
and blame the due of blame.

Exeunt. Buckingham with Officers.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Richmond, Oxford, Blunt, Herbert, and others, with drum and

colours.

Richm. Fellowes in Armes, and my most louing Frends Bruis'd
vnderneath the yoake of Tyranny,

Thus farre into the bowels of the Land,

Haue we marcht on without impediment;

And heere receiue we from our Father Stanley Lines of faire comfort and
encouragement: The wretched, bloody, and vsurping Boare, (That spoyl'd
your Summer Fields, and fruitfull Vines) Swilles your warm blood like
wash, & makes his trough In your embowel'd bosomes: This foule Swine Is
now euen in the Centry of this Isle,

Ne're to the Towne of Leicester, as we learne: From Tamworth thither,
is but one dayes march. In Gods name cheerely on, couragious Friends,
To reape the Haruest of perpetuall peace, By this one bloody tryall of
sharpe Warre

Oxf. Euery mans Conscience is a thousand men, To fight against this
guilty Homicide

Her. I doubt not but his Friends will turne to vs

Blunt. He hath no friends, but what are friends for fear, Which in
his deerest neede will flye from him

Richm. All for our vantage, then in Gods name march, True Hope is
swift, and flyes with Swallowes wings, Kings it makes Gods, and meaner
creatures Kings.

Exeunt. Omnes.

Enter King Richard in Armes with Norfolke, Ratcliffe, and the Earle of

Surrey.

Rich. Here pitch our Tent, euen here in Bosworth field, My Lord of
Surrey, why looke you so sad?

Sur. My heart is ten times lighter then my lookes

Rich. My Lord of Norfolke

Nor. Heere most gracious Liege

Rich. Norfolke, we must haue knockes:

Ha, must we not?

Nor. We must both giue and take my louing Lord

Rich. Vp with my Tent, heere wil I lye to night, But where to
morrow? Well, all's one for that. Who hath descried the number of the
Traitors?   Nor. Six or seuen thousand is their vtmost power

Rich. Why our Battalia trebbles that account: Besides, the Kings
name is a Tower of strength, Which they vpon the aduerse Faction want.
Vp with the Tent: Come Noble Gentlemen,

Let vs suruey the vantage of the ground.

Call for some men of sound direction:

Let's lacke no Discipline, make no delay, For Lords, to morrow is a
busie day.

Exeunt.

Enter Richmond, Sir William Branden, Oxford, and Dorset.

Richm. The weary Sunne, hath made a Golden set, And by the bright
Tract of his fiery Carre, Giues token of a goodly day to morrow.

Sir William Brandon, you shall beare my Standard: Giue me some Inke and
Paper in my Tent:

Ile draw the Forme and Modell of our Battaile, Limit each Leader to his
seuerall Charge, And part in iust proportion our small Power. My Lord
of Oxford, you Sir William Brandon, And your Sir Walter Herbert stay
with me: The Earle of Pembroke keepes his Regiment; Good Captaine
Blunt, beare my goodnight to him, And by the second houre in the
Morning,

Desire the Earle to see me in my Tent:

Yet one thing more (good Captaine) do for me: Where is Lord Stanley
quarter'd, do you know?   Blunt. Vnlesse I haue mistane his Colours
much, (Which well I am assur'd I haue not done) His Regiment lies halfe
a Mile at least

South, from the mighty Power of the King

Richm. If without perill it be possible, Sweet Blunt, make some good
meanes to speak with him And giue him from me, this most needfull Note

Blunt. Vpon my life, my Lord, Ile vndertake it, And so God giue you
quiet rest to night

Richm. Good night good Captaine Blunt: Come Gentlemen,

Let vs consult vpon to morrowes Businesse; Into my Tent, the Dew is
rawe and cold.

They withdraw into the Tent.

Enter Richard, Ratcliffe, Norfolke, & Catesby.

Rich. What is't a Clocke?

Cat. It's Supper time my Lord, it's nine a clocke

King. I will not sup to night,

Giue me some Inke and Paper:

What, is my Beauer easier then it was?

And all my Armour laid into my Tent?

Cat. It is my Liege: and all things are in readinesse

Rich. Good Norfolke, hye thee to thy charge, Vse carefull Watch,
choose trusty Centinels,   Nor. I go my Lord

Rich. Stir with the Larke to morrow, gentle Norfolk

Nor. I warrant you my Lord.

Exit

Rich. Ratcliffe

Rat. My Lord

Rich. Send out a Pursuiuant at Armes

To Stanleys Regiment: bid him bring his power Before Sun-rising, least
his Sonne George fall Into the blinde Caue of eternall night.

Fill me a Bowle of Wine: Giue me a Watch, Saddle white Surrey for the
Field to morrow: Look that my Staues be sound, & not too heauy.
Ratcliff

Rat. My Lord

Rich. Saw'st the melancholly Lord Northumberland?   Rat. Thomas the
Earle of Surrey, and himselfe, Much about Cockshut time, from Troope to
Troope Went through the Army, chearing vp the Souldiers

King. So, I am satisfied: Giue me a Bowle of Wine, I haue not that
Alacrity of Spirit,

Nor cheere of Minde that I was wont to haue. Set it downe. Is Inke and
Paper ready?

Rat. It is my Lord

Rich. Bid my Guard watch. Leaue me.

Ratcliffe, about the mid of night come to my Tent And helpe to arme me.
Leaue me I say.

Exit Ratclif.

Enter Derby to Richmond in his Tent.

Der. Fortune, and Victory sit on thy Helme

Rich. All comfort that the darke night can affoord, Be to thy
Person, Noble Father in Law.

Tell me, how fares our Noble Mother?

Der. I by Attourney, blesse thee from thy Mother, Who prayes
continually for Richmonds good: So much for that. The silent houres
steale on, And flakie darkenesse breakes within the East. In breefe,
for so the season bids vs be,

Prepare thy Battell early in the Morning, And put thy Fortune to th'
Arbitrement

Of bloody stroakes, and mortall staring Warre: I, as I may, that which
I would, I cannot, With best aduantage will deceiue the time, And ayde
thee in this doubtfull shocke of Armes. But on thy side I may not be
too forward, Least being seene, thy Brother, tender George Be executed
in his Fathers sight.

Farewell: the leysure, and the fearfull time Cuts off the ceremonious
Vowes of Loue,

And ample enterchange of sweet Discourse, Which so long sundred Friends
should dwell vpon: God giue vs leysure for these rites of Loue. Once
more Adieu, be valiant, and speed well

Richm. Good Lords conduct him to his Regiment: Ile striue with
troubled noise, to take a Nap, Lest leaden slumber peize me downe to
morrow, When I should mount with wings of Victory: Once more, good
night kinde Lords and Gentlemen.

Exeunt. Manet Richmond.

O thou, whose Captaine I account my selfe, Looke on my Forces with a
gracious eye:

Put in their hands thy bruising Irons of wrath, That they may crush
downe with a heauy fall, Th' vsurping Helmets of our Aduersaries:

Make vs thy ministers of Chasticement,

That we may praise thee in thy victory:

To thee I do commend my watchfull soule,

Ere I let fall the windowes of mine eyes: Sleeping, and waking, oh
defend me still.

Sleeps.

Enter the Ghost of Prince Edward, Sonne to Henry the sixt.

Gh. to Ri[chard]. Let me sit heauy on thy soule to morrow: Thinke how
thou stab'st me in my prime of youth At Teukesbury: Dispaire therefore,
and dye.

Ghost to Richm[ond].

Be chearefull Richmond,

For the wronged Soules

Of butcher'd Princes, fight in thy behalfe: King Henries issue Richmond
comforts thee. Enter the Ghost of Henry the sixt.

Ghost. When I was mortall, my Annointed body By thee was punched full
of holes;

Thinke on the Tower, and me: Dispaire, and dye, Harry the sixt, bids
thee dispaire, and dye.

To Richm[ond].

Vertuous and holy be thou Conqueror:

Harry that prophesied thou should'st be King, Doth comfort thee in
sleepe: Liue, and flourish. Enter the Ghost of Clarence.

Ghost. Let me sit heauy in thy soule to morrow. I that was wash'd to
death with Fulsome Wine: Poore Clarence by thy guile betray'd to death:
To morrow in the battell thinke on me,

And fall thy edgelesse Sword, dispaire and dye.

To Richm[ond].

Thou off-spring of the house of Lancaster The wronged heyres of Yorke
do pray for thee, Good Angels guard thy battell, Liue and Flourish.
Enter the Ghosts of Riuers, Gray, and Vaughan.

Riu. Let me sit heauy in thy soule to morrow, Riuers, that dy'de at
Pomfret: dispaire, and dye

Grey. Thinke vpon Grey, and let thy soule dispaire

Vaugh. Thinke vpon Vaughan, and with guilty feare Let fall thy
Lance, dispaire and dye.

All to Richm[ond].

Awake,

And thinke our wrongs in Richards Bosome, Will conquer him. Awake, and
win the day. Enter the Ghost of Lord Hastings.

Gho. Bloody and guilty: guiltily awake, And in a bloody Battell end
thy dayes.

Thinke on Lord Hastings: dispaire, and dye.

Hast. to Rich[ard].

Quiet vntroubled soule,

Awake, awake:

Arme, fight, and conquer, for faire Englands sake. Enter the Ghosts of
the two yong Princes.

Ghosts. Dreame on thy Cousins

Smothered in the Tower:

Let vs be laid within thy bosome Richard, And weigh thee downe to
ruine, shame, and death, Thy Nephewes soule bids thee dispaire and
dye.

Ghosts to Richm[ond].

Sleepe Richmond,

Sleepe in Peace, and wake in Ioy,

Good Angels guard thee from the Boares annoy, Liue, and beget a happy
race of Kings,

Edwards vnhappy Sonnes, do bid thee flourish.

Enter the Ghost of Anne, his Wife.

Ghost to Rich[ard].

Richard, thy Wife,

That wretched Anne thy Wife,

That neuer slept a quiet houre with thee, Now filles thy sleepe with
perturbations, To morrow in the Battaile, thinke on me,

And fall thy edgelesse Sword, dispaire and dye:

Ghost to Richm[ond].

Thou quiet soule,

Sleepe thou a quiet sleepe:

Dreame of Successe, and Happy Victory,

Thy Aduersaries Wife doth pray for thee.

Enter the Ghost of Buckingham.

Ghost to Rich[ard].

The first was I

That help'd thee to the Crowne:

That last was I that felt thy Tyranny.

O, in the Battaile think on Buckingham,

And dye in terror of thy guiltinesse.

Dreame on, dreame on, of bloody deeds and death, Fainting dispaire;
dispairing yeeld thy breath.

Ghost to Richm[ond].

I dyed for hope

Ere I could lend thee Ayde;

But cheere thy heart, and be thou not dismayde: God, and good Angels
fight on Richmonds side, And Richard fall in height of all his pride.

Richard starts out of his dreame.

Rich. Giue me another Horse, bind vp my Wounds: Haue mercy Iesu.
Soft, I did but dreame.

O coward Conscience? how dost thou afflict me? The Lights burne blew.
It is not dead midnight. Cold fearefull drops stand on my trembling
flesh. What? do I feare my Selfe? There's none else by, Richard loues
Richard, that is, I am I.

Is there a Murtherer heere? No; Yes, I am: Then flye; What from my
Selfe? Great reason: why? Lest I Reuenge. What? my Selfe vpon my Selfe?
Alacke, I loue my Selfe. Wherefore? For any good That I my Selfe, haue
done vnto my Selfe? O no. Alas, I rather hate my Selfe,

For hatefull Deeds committed by my Selfe. I am a Villaine: yet I Lye, I
am not.

Foole, of thy Selfe speake well: Foole, do not flatter. My Conscience
hath a thousand seuerall Tongues, And euery Tongue brings in a seuerall
Tale, And euerie Tale condemnes me for a Villaine; Periurie, in the
high'st Degree,

Murther, sterne murther, in the dyr'st degree, All seuerall sinnes, all
vs'd in each degree, Throng all to'th' Barre, crying all, Guilty,
Guilty. I shall dispaire, there is no Creature loues me; And if I die,
no soule shall pittie me.

Nay, wherefore should they? Since that I my Selfe, Finde in my Selfe,
no pittie to my Selfe. Me thought, the Soules of all that I had
murther'd Came to my Tent, and euery one did threat To morrowes
vengeance on the head of Richard. Enter Ratcliffe.

Rat. My Lord

King. Who's there?

Rat. Ratcliffe, my Lord, 'tis I: the early Village Cock Hath twice
done salutation to the Morne,

Your Friends are vp, and buckle on their Armour

King. O Ratcliffe, I feare, I feare

Rat. Nay good my Lord, be not affraid of Shadows

King. By the Apostle Paul, shadowes to night Haue stroke more terror
to the soule of Richard, Then can the substance of ten thousand
Souldiers Armed in proofe, and led by shallow Richmond. 'Tis not yet
neere day. Come go with me,

Vnder our Tents Ile play the Ease-dropper, To heare if any meane to
shrinke from me.

Exeunt. Richard & Ratliffe,

Enter the Lords to Richmond sitting in his Tent.

Richm. Good morrow Richmond

Rich. Cry mercy Lords, and watchfull Gentlemen, That you haue tane a
tardie sluggard heere?   Lords. How haue you slept my Lord?

Rich. The sweetest sleepe,

And fairest boading Dreames,

That euer entred in a drowsie head,

Haue I since your departure had my Lords. Me thought their Soules,
whose bodies Rich[ard]. murther'd, Came to my Tent, and cried on
Victory:

I promise you my Heart is very iocond,

In the remembrance of so faire a dreame,

How farre into the Morning is it Lords?

Lor. Vpon the stroke of foure

Rich. Why then 'tis time to Arme, and giue direction.

His Oration to his Souldiers.

More then I haue said, louing Countrymen, The leysure and inforcement
of the time

Forbids to dwell vpon: yet remember this, God, and our good cause,
fight vpon our side, The Prayers of holy Saints and wronged soules,
Like high rear'd Bulwarkes, stand before our Faces, (Richard except)
those whom we fight against, Had rather haue vs win, then him they
follow. For, what is he they follow? Truly Gentlemen, A bloudy Tyrant,
and a Homicide:

One rais'd in blood, and one in blood establish'd; One that made meanes
to come by what he hath, And slaughter'd those that were the meanes to
help him: A base foule Stone, made precious by the soyle Of Englands
Chaire, where he is falsely set: One that hath euer beene Gods Enemy.

Then if you fight against Gods Enemy,

God will in iustice ward you as his Soldiers. If you do sweare to put a
Tyrant downe,

You sleepe in peace, the Tyrant being slaine: If you do fight against
your Countries Foes, Your Countries Fat shall pay your paines the hyre.
If you do fight in safegard of your wiues, Your wiues shall welcome
home the Conquerors. If you do free your Children from the Sword, Your
Childrens Children quits it in your Age. Then in the name of God and
all these rights, Aduance your Standards, draw your willing Swords. For
me, the ransome of my bold attempt,

Shall be this cold Corpes on the earth's cold face. But if I thriue,
the gaine of my attempt, The least of you shall share his part thereof.
Sound Drummes and Trumpets boldly, and cheerefully, God, and Saint
George, Richmond, and Victory. Enter King Richard, Ratcliffe, and
Catesby.

K. What said Northumberland as touching Richmond?   Rat. That he was
neuer trained vp in Armes

King. He said the truth: and what said Surrey then?   Rat. He smil'd
and said, the better for our purpose

King. He was in the right, and so indeed it is. Tell the clocke
there.

Clocke strikes.

Giue me a Kalender: Who saw the Sunne to day?   Rat. Not I my Lord

King. Then he disdaines to shine: for by the Booke He should haue
brau'd the East an houre ago, A blacke day will it be to somebody.
Ratcliffe

Rat. My Lord

King. The Sun will not be seene to day, The sky doth frowne, and
lowre vpon our Army. I would these dewy teares were from the ground.
Not shine to day? Why, what is that to me More then to Richmond? For
the selfe-same Heauen That frownes on me, lookes sadly vpon him. Enter
Norfolke.

Nor. Arme, arme, my Lord: the foe vaunts in the field

King. Come, bustle, bustle. Caparison my horse. Call vp Lord
Stanley, bid him bring his power, I will leade forth my Soldiers to the
plaine, And thus my Battell shal be ordred.

My Foreward shall be drawne in length,

Consisting equally of Horse and Foot:

Our Archers shall be placed in the mid'st; Iohn Duke of Norfolke,
Thomas Earle of Surrey, Shall haue the leading of the Foot and Horse.
They thus directed, we will follow

In the maine Battell, whose puissance on either side Shall be
well-winged with our cheefest Horse: This, and Saint George to boote.

What think'st thou Norfolke

Nor. A good direction warlike Soueraigne, This found I on my Tent
this Morning.

Iockey of Norfolke, be not so bold,

For Dickon thy maister is bought and sold

King. A thing deuised by the Enemy.

Go Gentlemen, euery man to his Charge,

Let not our babling Dreames affright our soules: For Conscience is a
word that Cowards vse, Deuis'd at first to keepe the strong in awe, Our
strong armes be our Conscience, Swords our Law. March on, ioyne
brauely, let vs too't pell mell, If not to heauen, then hand in hand to
Hell. What shall I say more then I haue inferr'd? Remember whom you are
to cope withall,

A sort of Vagabonds, Rascals, and Run-awayes, A scum of Brittaines, and
base Lackey Pezants, Whom their o're-cloyed Country vomits forth To
desperate Aduentures, and assur'd Destruction. You sleeping safe, they
bring you to vnrest: You hauing Lands, and blest with beauteous wiues,
They would restraine the one, distaine the other, And who doth leade
them, but a paltry Fellow? Long kept in Britaine at our Mothers cost, A
Milke-sop, one that neuer in his life

Felt so much cold, as ouer shooes in Snow: Let's whip these straglers
o're the Seas againe, Lash hence these ouer-weening Ragges of France,
These famish'd Beggers, weary of their liues, Who (but for dreaming on
this fond exploit) For want of meanes (poore Rats) had hang'd
themselues. If we be conquered, let men conquer vs,

And not these bastard Britaines, whom our Fathers Haue in their owne
Land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd, And on Record, left them the heires
of shame. Shall these enioy our Lands? lye with our Wiues? Rauish our
daughters?

Drum afarre off

Hearke, I heare their Drumme,

Right Gentlemen of England, fight boldly yeomen, Draw Archers draw your
Arrowes to the head, Spurre your proud Horses hard, and ride in blood,
Amaze the welkin with your broken staues. Enter a Messenger.

What sayes Lord Stanley, will he bring his power?   Mes. My Lord, he
doth deny to come

King. Off with his sonne Georges head

Nor. My Lord, the Enemy is past the Marsh: After the battaile, let
George Stanley dye

King. A thousand hearts are great within my bosom. Aduance our
Standards, set vpon our Foes, Our Ancient word of Courage, faire
S[aint]. George Inspire vs with the spleene of fiery Dragons: Vpon
them, Victorie sits on our helpes.

Alarum, excursions. Enter Catesby.

Cat. Rescue my Lord of Norfolke,

Rescue, Rescue:

The King enacts more wonders then a man,

Daring an opposite to euery danger:

His horse is slaine, and all on foot he fights, Seeking for Richmond in
the throat of death: Rescue faire Lord, or else the day is lost.

Alarums.

Enter Richard.

Rich. A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdome for a Horse

Cates. Withdraw my Lord, Ile helpe you to a Horse   Rich. Slaue, I
haue set my life vpon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the Dye:

I thinke there be sixe Richmonds in the field, Fiue haue I slaine to
day, in stead of him. A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdome for a Horse.

Alarum, Enter Richard and Richmond, they fight, Richard is slaine.

Retreat, and Flourish. Enter Richmond, Derby bearing the Crowne, with

diuers other Lords.

Richm. God, and your Armes

Be prais'd Victorious Friends;

The day is ours, the bloudy Dogge is dead

Der. Couragious Richmond,

Well hast thou acquit thee: Loe,

Heere these long vsurped Royalties,

From the dead Temples of this bloudy Wretch, Haue I pluck'd off, to
grace thy Browes withall. Weare it, and make much of it

Richm. Great God of Heauen, say Amen to all. But tell me, is yong
George Stanley liuing?   Der. He is my Lord, and safe in Leicester
Towne, Whither (if you please) we may withdraw vs

Richm. What men of name are slaine on either side?   Der. Iohn Duke
of Norfolke, Walter Lord Ferris, Sir Robert Brokenbury, and Sir William
Brandon

Richm. Interre their Bodies, as become their Births, Proclaime a
pardon to the Soldiers fled,

That in submission will returne to vs,

And then as we haue tane the Sacrament,

We will vnite the White Rose, and the Red. Smile Heauen vpon this faire
Coniunction, That long haue frown'd vpon their Enmity: What Traitor
heares me, and sayes not Amen? England hath long beene mad, and scarr'd
her selfe; The Brother blindely shed the Brothers blood; The Father,
rashly slaughtered his owne Sonne; The Sonne compell'd, beene Butcher
to the Sire; All this diuided Yorke and Lancaster,

Diuided, in their dire Diuision.

O now, let Richmond and Elizabeth,

The true Succeeders of each Royall House, By Gods faire ordinance,
conioyne together: And let thy Heires (God if thy will be so) Enrich
the time to come, with Smooth-fac'd Peace, With smiling Plenty, and
faire Prosperous dayes. Abate the edge of Traitors, Gracious Lord, That
would reduce these bloudy dayes againe, And make poore England weepe in
Streames of Blood; Let them not liue to taste this Lands increase, That
would with Treason, wound this faire Lands peace. Now Ciuill wounds are
stopp'd, Peace liues agen; That she may long liue heere, God say,
Amen.

Exeunt.

FINIS. The Tragedy of Richard the Third: with the Landing of Earle

Richmond, and the Battell at Bosworth Field.



The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eight

THE PROLOGVE.



I Come no more to make you laugh, Things now, That beare a Weighty,
and a Serious Brow, Sad, high, and working, full of State and Woe: Such
Noble Scoenes, as draw the Eye to flow We now present. Those that can
Pitty, heere May (if they thinke it well) let fall a Teare, The Subiect
will deserue it. Such as giue Their Money out of hope they may beleeue,
May heere finde Truth too. Those that come to see Onely a show or two,
and so agree,

The Play may passe: If they be still, and willing, Ile vndertake may
see away their shilling Richly in two short houres. Onely they

That come to heare a Merry, Bawdy Play,

A noyse of Targets: Or to see a Fellow

In a long Motley Coate, garded with Yellow, Will be deceyu'd. For
gentle Hearers, know To ranke our chosen Truth with such a show As
Foole, and Fight is, beside forfeyting Our owne Braines, and the
Opinion that we bring To make that onely true, we now intend,

Will leaue vs neuer an vnderstanding Friend. Therefore, for Goodnesse
sake, and as you are knowne The First and Happiest Hearers of the
Towne, Be sad, as we would make ye. Thinke ye see The very Persons of
our Noble Story,

As they were Liuing: Thinke you see them Great, And follow'd with the
generall throng, and sweat Of thousand Friends: Then, in a moment, see
How soone this Mightinesse, meets Misery: And if you can be merry then,
Ile say,

A Man may weepe vpon his Wedding day.

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter the Duke of Norfolke at one doore. At the other, the Duke of
Buckingham, and the Lord Aburgauenny.

Buckingham. Good morrow, and well met. How haue ye done Since last we
saw in France?

Norf. I thanke your Grace:

Healthfull, and euer since a fresh Admirer Of what I saw there

Buck. An vntimely Ague

Staid me a Prisoner in my Chamber, when

Those Sunnes of Glory, those two Lights of Men Met in the vale of
Andren

Nor. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde,

I was then present, saw them salute on Horsebacke, Beheld them when
they lighted, how they clung In their Embracement, as they grew
together, Which had they,

What foure Thron'd ones could haue weigh'd Such a compounded one?

Buck. All the whole time

I was my Chambers Prisoner

Nor. Then you lost

The view of earthly glory: Men might say

Till this time Pompe was single, but now married To one aboue it selfe.
Each following day Became the next dayes master, till the last Made
former Wonders, it's. To day the French, All Clinquant all in Gold,
like Heathen Gods Shone downe the English; and to morrow, they Made
Britaine, India: Euery man that stood, Shew'd like a Mine. Their
Dwarfish Pages were As Cherubins, all gilt: the Madams too,

Not vs'd to toyle, did almost sweat to beare The Pride vpon them, that
their very labour Was to them, as a Painting. Now this Maske Was cry'de
incompareable; and th' ensuing night Made it a Foole, and Begger. The
two Kings Equall in lustre, were now best, now worst As presence did
present them: Him in eye, Still him in praise, and being present both,
'Twas said they saw but one, and no Discerner Durst wagge his Tongue in
censure, when these Sunnes (For so they phrase 'em) by their Heralds
challeng'd The Noble Spirits to Armes, they did performe Beyond
thoughts Compasse, that former fabulous Storie Being now seene,
possible enough, got credit That Beuis was beleeu'd

Buc. Oh you go farre

Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect In Honor, Honesty, the tract
of eu'ry thing, Would by a good Discourser loose some life, Which
Actions selfe, was tongue too

Buc. All was Royall,

To the disposing of it nought rebell'd,

Order gaue each thing view. The Office did Distinctly his full
Function: who did guide, I meane who set the Body, and the Limbes

Of this great Sport together?

Nor. As you guesse:

One certes, that promises no Element

In such a businesse

Buc. I pray you who, my Lord?

Nor. All this was ordred by the good Discretion Of the right Reuerend
Cardinall of Yorke

Buc. The diuell speed him: No mans Pye is freed From his Ambitious
finger. What had he

To do in these fierce Vanities? I wonder, That such a Keech can with
his very bulke Take vp the Rayes o'th' beneficiall Sun,

And keepe it from the Earth

Nor. Surely Sir,

There's in him stuffe, that put's him to these ends: For being not
propt by Auncestry, whose grace Chalkes Successors their way; nor
call'd vpon For high feats done to'th' Crowne; neither Allied To
eminent Assistants; but Spider-like

Out of his Selfe-drawing Web. O giues vs note, The force of his owne
merit makes his way A guift that heauen giues for him, which buyes A
place next to the King

Abur. I cannot tell

What Heauen hath giuen him: let some Grauer eye Pierce into that, but I
can see his Pride Peepe through each part of him: whence ha's he that,
If not from Hell? The Diuell is a Niggard, Or ha's giuen all before,
and he begins

A new Hell in himselfe

Buc. Why the Diuell,

Vpon this French going out, tooke he vpon him (Without the priuity
o'th' King) t' appoint Who should attend on him? He makes vp the File
Of all the Gentry; for the most part such To whom as great a Charge, as
little Honor He meant to lay vpon: and his owne Letter The Honourable
Boord of Councell, out

Must fetch him in, he Papers

Abur. I do know

Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that haue By this, so sicken'd
their Estates, that neuer They shall abound as formerly

Buc. O many

Haue broke their backes with laying Mannors on 'em For this great
Iourney. What did this vanity But minister communication of

A most poore issue

Nor. Greeuingly I thinke,

The Peace betweene the French and vs, not valewes The Cost that did
conclude it

Buc. Euery man,

After the hideous storme that follow'd, was A thing Inspir'd, and not
consulting, broke Into a generall Prophesie; That this Tempest Dashing
the Garment of this Peace, aboaded The sodaine breach on't

Nor. Which is budded out,

For France hath flaw'd the League, and hath attach'd Our Merchants
goods at Burdeux

Abur. Is it therefore

Th' Ambassador is silenc'd?

Nor. Marry is't

Abur. A proper Title of a Peace, and purchas'd At a superfluous
rate

Buc. Why all this Businesse

Our Reuerend Cardinall carried

Nor. Like it your Grace,

The State takes notice of the priuate difference Betwixt you, and the
Cardinall. I aduise you (And take it from a heart, that wishes towards
you Honor, and plenteous safety) that you reade The Cardinals Malice,
and his Potency

Together; To consider further, that

What his high Hatred would effect, wants not A Minister in his Power.
You know his Nature, That he's Reuengefull; and I know, his Sword Hath
a sharpe edge: It's long, and't may be saide It reaches farre, and
where 'twill not extend, Thither he darts it. Bosome vp my counsell,
You'l finde it wholesome. Loe, where comes that Rock That I aduice your
shunning.

Enter Cardinall Wolsey, the Purse borne before him, certaine of the
Guard,

and two Secretaries with Papers: The Cardinall in his passage, fixeth
his

eye on Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdaine.

Car. The Duke of Buckinghams Surueyor? Ha? Where's his Examination?

Secr. Heere so please you

Car. Is he in person, ready?

Secr. I, please your Grace

Car. Well, we shall then know more, & Buckingham Shall lessen this
bigge looke.

Exeunt. Cardinall, and his Traine.

Buc. This Butchers Curre is venom'd-mouth'd, and I Haue not the power
to muzzle him, therefore best Not wake him in his slumber. A Beggers
booke, Out-worths a Nobles blood

Nor. What are you chaff'd?

Aske God for Temp'rance, that's th' appliance onely Which your disease
requires

Buc. I read in's looks

Matter against me, and his eye reuil'd

Me as his abiect obiect, at this instant

He bores me with some tricke; He's gone to'th' King: Ile follow, and
out-stare him

Nor. Stay my Lord,

And let your Reason with your Choller question What 'tis you go about:
to climbe steepe hilles Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like A
full hot Horse, who being allow'd his way Selfe-mettle tyres him: Not a
man in England Can aduise me like you: Be to your selfe, As you would
to your Friend

Buc. Ile to the King,

And from a mouth of Honor, quite cry downe This Ipswich fellowes
insolence; or proclaime, There's difference in no persons

Norf. Be aduis'd;

Heat not a Furnace for your foe so hot

That it do sindge your selfe. We may out-runne By violent swiftnesse
that which we run at; And lose by ouer-running: know you not,

The fire that mounts the liquor til't run ore, In seeming to augment
it, wasts it: be aduis'd; I say againe there is no English Soule

More stronger to direct you then your selfe; If with the sap of reason
you would quench, Or but allay the fire of passion

Buck. Sir,

I am thankfull to you, and Ile goe along

By your prescription: but this top-proud fellow, Whom from the flow of
gall I name not, but From sincere motions, by Intelligence,

And proofes as cleere as Founts in Iuly, when Wee see each graine of
grauell; I doe know To be corrupt and treasonous

Norf. Say not treasonous

Buck. To th' King Ile say't, & make my vouch as strong As shore of
Rocke: attend. This holy Foxe, Or Wolfe, or both (for he is equall
rau'nous As he is subtile, and as prone to mischiefe, As able to
perform't) his minde, and place Infecting one another, yea
reciprocally,

Only to shew his pompe, as well in France, As here at home, suggests
the King our Master To this last costly Treaty: Th' enteruiew, That
swallowed so much treasure, and like a glasse Did breake ith'
wrenching

Norf. Faith, and so it did

Buck. Pray giue me fauour Sir: This cunning Cardinall The Articles
o'th' Combination drew

As himselfe pleas'd; and they were ratified As he cride thus let be, to
as much end,

As giue a Crutch to th' dead. But our Count-Cardinall Has done this,
and tis well: for worthy Wolsey (Who cannot erre) he did it. Now this
followes, (Which as I take it, is a kinde of Puppie To th' old dam
Treason) Charles the Emperour, Vnder pretence to see the Queene his
Aunt, (For twas indeed his colour, but he came

To whisper Wolsey) here makes visitation, His feares were that the
Interview betwixt England and France, might through their amity Breed
him some preiudice; for from this League, Peep'd harmes that menac'd
him. Priuily

Deales with our Cardinal, and as I troa

Which I doe well; for I am sure the Emperour Paid ere he promis'd,
whereby his Suit was granted Ere it was ask'd. But when the way was
made And pau'd with gold: the Emperor thus desir'd, That he would
please to alter the Kings course, And breake the foresaid peace. Let
the King know (As soone he shall by me) that thus the Cardinall Does
buy and sell his Honour as he pleases, And for his owne aduantage

Norf. I am sorry

To heare this of him; and could wish he were Somthing mistaken in't

Buck. No, not a sillable:

I doe pronounce him in that very shape

He shall appeare in proofe.

Enter Brandon, a Sergeant at Armes before him, and two or three of the

Guard.

Brandon. Your Office Sergeant: execute it

Sergeant. Sir,

My Lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earle Of Hertford, Stafford and
Northampton, I

Arrest thee of High Treason, in the name

Of our most Soueraigne King

Buck. Lo you my Lord,

The net has falne vpon me, I shall perish Vnder deuice, and practise

Bran. I am sorry,

To see you tane from liberty, to looke on The busines present. Tis his
Highnes pleasure You shall to th' Tower

Buck. It will helpe me nothing

To plead mine Innocence; for that dye is on me Which makes my whit'st
part, black. The will of Heau'n Be done in this and all things: I
obey.

O my Lord Aburgany: Fare you well

Bran. Nay, he must beare you company. The King Is pleas'd you shall
to th' Tower, till you know How he determines further

Abur. As the Duke said,

The will of Heauen be done, and the Kings pleasure By me obey'd

Bran. Here is a warrant from

The King, t' attach Lord Mountacute, and the Bodies Of the Dukes
Confessor, Iohn de la Car,

One Gilbert Pecke, his Councellour

Buck. So, so;

These are the limbs o'th' Plot: no more I hope

Bra. A Monke o'th' Chartreux

Buck. O Michaell Hopkins?

Bra. He

Buck. My Surueyor is falce: The oregreat Cardinall Hath shew'd him
gold; my life is spand already: I am the shadow of poore Buckingham,

Whose Figure euen this instant Clowd puts on, By Darkning my cleere
Sunne. My Lords farewell.

Exe.

Scena Secunda.

Cornets. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinals shoulder, the
Nobles,

and Sir Thomas Louell: the Cardinall places himselfe vnder the Kings
feete

on his right side.

King. My life it selfe, and the best heart of it, Thankes you for
this great care: I stood i'th' leuell Of a full-charg'd confederacie,
and giue thankes To you that choak'd it. Let be cald before vs That
Gentleman of Buckinghams, in person, Ile heare him his confessions
iustifie,

And point by point the Treasons of his Maister, He shall againe
relate.

A noyse within crying roome for the Queene, vsher'd by the Duke of

Norfolke. Enter the Queene, Norfolke and Suffolke: she kneels. King
riseth

from his State, takes her vp, kisses and placeth her by him.

Queen. Nay, we must longer kneele; I am a Suitor

King. Arise, and take place by vs; halfe your Suit Neuer name to vs;
you haue halfe our power: The other moity ere you aske is giuen,

Repeat your will, and take it

Queen. Thanke your Maiesty

That you would loue your selfe, and in that loue Not vnconsidered leaue
your Honour, nor

The dignity of your Office; is the poynt

Of my Petition

Kin. Lady mine proceed

Queen. I am solicited not by a few,

And those of true condition; That your Subiects Are in great grieuance:
There haue beene Commissions Sent downe among 'em, which hath flaw'd
the heart Of all their Loyalties; wherein, although My good Lord
Cardinall, they vent reproches Most bitterly on you, as putter on

Of these exactions: yet the King, our Maister Whose Honor Heauen shield
from soile; euen he escapes not Language vnmannerly; yea, such which
breakes The sides of loyalty, and almost appeares In lowd Rebellion

Norf. Not almost appeares,

It doth appeare; for, vpon these Taxations, The Clothiers all not able
to maintaine

The many to them longing, haue put off

The Spinsters, Carders, Fullers, Weauers, who Vnfit for other life,
compeld by hunger

And lack of other meanes, in desperate manner Daring th' euent too th'
teeth, are all in vprore, And danger serues among them

Kin. Taxation?

Wherein? and what Taxation? My Lord Cardinall, You that are blam'd for
it alike with vs, Know you of this Taxation?

Card. Please you Sir,

I know but of a single part in ought

Pertaines to th' State; and front but in that File Where others tell
steps with me

Queen. No, my Lord?

You know no more then others? But you frame Things that are knowne
alike, which are not wholsome To those which would not know them, and
yet must Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions (Whereof my
Soueraigne would haue note) they are Most pestilent to th' hearing, and
to beare 'em, The Backe is Sacrifice to th' load; They say They are
deuis'd by you, or else you suffer Too hard an exclamation

Kin. Still Exaction:

The nature of it, in what kinde let's know, Is this Exaction?

Queen. I am much too venturous

In tempting of your patience, but am boldned Vnder your promis'd
pardon. The Subiects griefe Comes through Commissions, which compels
from each The sixt part of his Substance, to be leuied Without delay;
and the pretence for this

Is nam'd, your warres in France: this makes bold mouths, Tongues spit
their duties out, and cold hearts freeze Allegeance in them; their
curses now

Liue where their prayers did: and it's come to passe, This tractable
obedience is a Slaue

To each incensed Will: I would your Highnesse Would giue it quicke
consideration; for

There is no primer basenesse

Kin. By my life,

This is against our pleasure

Card. And for me,

I haue no further gone in this, then by

A single voice, and that not past me, but By learned approbation of the
Iudges: If I am Traduc'd by ignorant Tongues, which neither know My
faculties nor person, yet will be

The Chronicles of my doing: Let me say,

'Tis but the fate of Place, and the rough Brake That Vertue must goe
through: we must not stint Our necessary actions, in the feare

To cope malicious Censurers, which euer,

As rau'nous Fishes doe a Vessell follow

That is new trim'd; but benefit no further Then vainly longing. What we
oft doe best, By sicke Interpreters (once weake ones) is Not ours, or
not allow'd; what worst, as oft Hitting a grosser quality, is cride vp

For our best Act: if we shall stand still, In feare our motion will be
mock'd, or carp'd at, We should take roote here, where we sit;

Or sit State-Statues onely

Kin. Things done well,

And with a care, exempt themselues from feare: Things done without
example, in their issue Are to be fear'd. Haue you a President

Of this Commission? I beleeue, not any.

We must not rend our Subiects from our Lawes, And sticke them in our
Will. Sixt part of each? A trembling Contribution; why we take

From euery Tree, lop, barke, and part o'th' Timber: And though we leaue
it with a roote thus hackt, The Ayre will drinke the Sap. To euery
County Where this is question'd, send our Letters, with Free pardon to
each man that has deny'de

The force of this Commission: pray looke too't; I put it to your care

Card. A word with you.

Let there be Letters writ to euery Shire, Of the Kings grace and
pardon: the greeued Commons Hardly conceiue of me. Let it be nois'd,

That through our Intercession, this Reuokement And pardon comes: I
shall anon aduise you Further in the proceeding.

Exit Secret[ary].

Enter Surueyor.

Queen. I am sorry, that the Duke of Buckingham Is run in your
displeasure

Kin. It grieues many:

The Gentleman is Learn'd, and a most rare Speaker, To Nature none more
bound; his trayning such, That he may furnish and instruct great
Teachers, And neuer seeke for ayd out of himselfe: yet see, When these
so Noble benefits shall proue

Not well dispos'd, the minde growing once corrupt, They turne to
vicious formes, ten times more vgly Then euer they were faire. This man
so compleat, Who was enrold 'mongst wonders; and when we Almost with
rauish'd listning, could not finde His houre of speech, a minute: He,
(my Lady) Hath into monstrous habits put the Graces That once were his,
and is become as blacke, As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by Vs, you shall
heare (This was his Gentleman in trust) of him

Things to strike Honour sad. Bid him recount The fore-recited
practises, whereof

We cannot feele too little, heare too much

Card. Stand forth, & with bold spirit relate what you Most like a
carefull Subiect haue collected Out of the Duke of Buckingham

Kin. Speake freely

Sur. First, it was vsuall with him; euery day It would infect his
Speech: That if the King Should without issue dye; hee'l carry it so To
make the Scepter his. These very words I'ue heard him vtter to his
Sonne in Law, Lord Aburgany, to whom by oth he menac'd

Reuenge vpon the Cardinall

Card. Please your Highnesse note

This dangerous conception in this point,

Not frended by his wish to your High person; His will is most
malignant, and it stretches Beyond you to your friends

Queen. My learn'd Lord Cardinall,

Deliuer all with Charity

Kin. Speake on;

How grounded hee his Title to the Crowne

Vpon our faile; to this poynt hast thou heard him, At any time speake
ought?

Sur. He was brought to this,

By a vaine Prophesie of Nicholas Henton

Kin. What was that Henton?

Sur. Sir, a Chartreux Fryer,

His Confessor, who fed him euery minute

With words of Soueraignty

Kin. How know'st thou this?

Sur. Not long before your Highnesse sped to France, The Duke being at
the Rose, within the Parish Saint Laurence Poultney, did of me demand
What was the speech among the Londoners,

Concerning the French Iourney. I replide, Men feare the French would
proue perfidious To the Kings danger: presently, the Duke

Said, 'twas the feare indeed, and that he doubted 'Twould proue the
verity of certaine words Spoke by a holy Monke, that oft, sayes he,
Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit

Iohn de la Car, my Chaplaine, a choyce howre To heare from him a matter
of some moment: Whom after vnder the Commissions Seale,

He sollemnly had sworne, that what he spoke My Chaplaine to no Creature
liuing, but

To me, should vtter, with demure Confidence, This pausingly ensu'de;
neither the King, nor's Heyres (Tell you the Duke) shall prosper, bid
him striue To the loue o'th' Commonalty, the Duke

Shall gouerne England

Queen. If I know you well,

You were the Dukes Surueyor, and lost your Office On the complaint
o'th' Tenants; take good heed You charge not in your spleene a Noble
person, And spoyle your nobler Soule; I say, take heed; Yes, heartily
beseech you

Kin. Let him on: Goe forward

Sur. On my Soule, Ile speake but truth. I told my Lord the Duke, by
th' Diuels illusions The Monke might be deceiu'd, and that 'twas
dangerous For this to ruminate on this so farre, vntill It forg'd him
some designe, which being beleeu'd It was much like to doe: He
answer'd, Tush, It can do me no damage; adding further,

That had the King in his last Sicknesse faild, The Cardinals and Sir
Thomas Louels heads Should haue gone off

Kin. Ha? What, so rancke? Ah, ha,

There's mischiefe in this man; canst thou say further?   Sur. I can my
Liedge

Kin. Proceed

Sur. Being at Greenwich,

After your Highnesse had reprou'd the Duke About Sir William Blumer

Kin. I remember of such a time, being my sworn seruant, The Duke
retein'd him his. But on: what hence?   Sur. If (quoth he) I for this
had beene committed, As to the Tower, I thought; I would haue plaid The
Part my Father meant to act vpon

Th' Vsurper Richard, who being at Salsbury, Made suit to come in's
presence; which if granted, (As he made semblance of his duty) would

Haue put his knife into him

Kin. A Gyant Traytor

Card. Now Madam, may his Highnes liue in freedome, And this man out
of Prison

Queen. God mend all

Kin. Ther's somthing more would out of thee; what say'st?   Sur.
After the Duke his Father, with the knife He stretch'd him, and with
one hand on his dagger, Another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes,
He did discharge a horrible Oath, whose tenor Was, were he euill vs'd,
he would outgoe

His Father, by as much as a performance

Do's an irresolute purpose

Kin. There's his period,

To sheath his knife in vs: he is attach'd, Call him to present tryall:
if he may

Finde mercy in the Law, 'tis his; if none, Let him not seek't of vs: By
day and night Hee's Traytor to th' height.

Exeunt.



Scaena Tertia.

L.Ch. Is't possible the spels of France should iuggle Men into such
strange mysteries?

L.San. New customes,

Though they be neuer so ridiculous,

(Nay let 'em be vnmanly) yet are follow'd

L.Ch. As farre as I see, all the good our English Haue got by the
late Voyage, is but meerely A fit or two o'th' face, (but they are
shrewd ones) For when they hold 'em, you would sweare directly Their
very noses had been Councellours

To Pepin or Clotharius, they keepe State so

L.San. They haue all new legs,

And lame ones; one would take it,

That neuer see 'em pace before, the Spauen A Spring-halt rain'd among
'em

L.Ch. Death my Lord,

Their cloathes are after such a Pagan cut too't, That sure th'haue
worne out Christendome: how now? What newes, Sir Thomas Louell?

Enter Sir Thomas Louell.

Louell. Faith my Lord,

I heare of none but the new Proclamation, That's clapt vpon the Court
Gate

L.Cham. What is't for?

Lou. The reformation of our trauel'd Gallants, That fill the Court
with quarrels, talke, and Taylors

L.Cham. I'm glad 'tis there;

Now I would pray our Monsieurs

To thinke an English Courtier may be wise, And neuer see the Louure

Lou. They must either

(For so run the Conditions) leaue those remnants Of Foole and Feather,
that they got in France, With all their honourable points of ignorance
Pertaining thereunto; as Fights and Fire-workes, Abusing better men
then they can be

Out of a forreigne wisedome, renouncing cleane The faith they haue in
Tennis and tall Stockings, Short blistred Breeches, and those types of
Trauell; And vnderstand againe like honest men,

Or pack to their old Playfellowes; there, I take it, They may Cum
Priuilegio, wee away

The lag end of their lewdnesse, and be laugh'd at

L.San. Tis time to giue 'em Physicke, their diseases Are growne so
catching

L.Cham. What a losse our Ladies

Will haue of these trim vanities?

Louell. I marry,

There will be woe indeed Lords, the slye whorsons Haue got a speeding
tricke to lay downe Ladies. A French Song, and a Fiddle, ha's no
Fellow

L.San. The Diuell fiddle 'em,

I am glad they are going,

For sure there's no conuerting of 'em: now An honest Country Lord as I
am, beaten

A long time out of play, may bring his plaine song, And haue an houre
of hearing, and by'r Lady Held currant Musicke too

L.Cham. Well said Lord Sands,

Your Colts tooth is not cast yet?

L.San. No my Lord,

Nor shall not while I haue a stumpe

L.Cham. Sir Thomas,

Whither were you a going?

Lou. To the Cardinals;

Your Lordship is a guest too

L.Cham. O, 'tis true;

This night he makes a Supper, and a great one, To many Lords and
Ladies; there will be

The Beauty of this Kingdome Ile assure you

Lou. That Churchman

Beares a bounteous minde indeed,

A hand as fruitfull as the Land that feeds vs, His dewes fall euery
where

L.Cham. No doubt hee's Noble;

He had a blacke mouth that said other of him

L.San. He may my Lord,

Ha's wherewithall in him;

Sparing would shew a worse sinne, then ill Doctrine, Men of his way,
should be most liberall,

They are set heere for examples

L.Cham. True, they are so;

But few now giue so great ones:

My Barge stayes;

Your Lordship shall along: Come, good Sir Thomas, We shall be late
else, which I would not be, For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford
This night to be Comptrollers

L.San. I am your Lordships.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Hoboies. A small Table vnder a State for the Cardinall, a longer Table
for

the Guests. Then Enter Anne Bullen, and diuers other Ladies, &
Gentlemen,

as Guests at one Doore; at an other Doore enter Sir Henry Guilford.

S.Hen.Guilf. Ladyes,

A generall welcome from his Grace

Salutes ye all; This Night he dedicates

To faire content, and you: None heere he hopes In all this Noble Beuy,
has brought with her One care abroad: hee would haue all as merry: As
first, good Company, good wine, good welcome, Can make good people.

Enter L[ord]. Chamberlaine L[ord]. Sands, and Louell.

O my Lord, y'are tardy;

The very thought of this faire Company,

Clapt wings to me

Cham. You are young Sir Harry Guilford

San. Sir Thomas Louell, had the Cardinall But halfe my Lay-thoughts
in him, some of these Should finde a running Banket, ere they rested, I
thinke would better please 'em: by my life, They are a sweet society of
faire ones

Lou. O that your Lordship were but now Confessor, To one or two of
these

San. I would I were,

They should finde easie pennance

Lou. Faith how easie?

San. As easie as a downe bed would affoord it

Cham. Sweet Ladies will it please you sit; Sir Harry Place you that
side, Ile take the charge of this: His Grace is entring. Nay, you must
not freeze, Two women plac'd together, makes cold weather: My Lord
Sands, you are one will keepe 'em waking: Pray sit betweene these
Ladies

San. By my faith,

And thanke your Lordship: by your leaue sweet Ladies, If I chance to
talke a little wilde, forgiue me: I had it from my Father

An.Bul. Was he mad Sir?

San. O very mad, exceeding mad, in loue too; But he would bite none,
iust as I doe now, He would Kisse you Twenty with a breath

Cham. Well said my Lord:

So now y'are fairely seated: Gentlemen,

The pennance lyes on you; if these faire Ladies Passe away frowning

San. For my little Cure,

Let me alone.

Hoboyes. Enter Cardinall Wolsey, and takes his State.

Card. Y'are welcome my faire Guests; that noble Lady Or Gentleman
that is not freely merry

Is not my Friend. This to confirme my welcome, And to you all good
health

San. Your Grace is Noble,

Let me haue such a Bowle may hold my thankes, And saue me so much
talking

Card. My Lord Sands,

I am beholding to you: cheere your neighbours: Ladies you are not
merry; Gentlemen,

Whose fault is this?

San. The red wine first must rise

In their faire cheekes my Lord, then wee shall haue 'em, Talke vs to
silence

An.B. You are a merry Gamster

My Lord Sands

San. Yes, if I make my play:

Heer's to your Ladiship, and pledge it Madam: For tis to such a thing

An.B. You cannot shew me.

Drum and Trumpet, Chambers dischargd.

San. I told your Grace, they would talke anon

Card. What's that?

Cham. Looke out there, some of ye

Card. What warlike voyce,

And to what end is this? Nay, Ladies, feare not; By all the lawes of
Warre y'are priuiledg'd. Enter a Seruant.

Cham. How now, what is't?

Seru. A noble troupe of Strangers,

For so they seeme; th' haue left their Barge and landed, And hither
make, as great Embassadors

From forraigne Princes

Card. Good Lord Chamberlaine,

Go, giue 'em welcome; you can speake the French tongue And pray receiue
'em Nobly, and conduct 'em Into our presence, where this heauen of
beauty Shall shine at full vpon them. Some attend him.

All rise, and Tables remou'd.

You haue now a broken Banket, but wee'l mend it. A good digestion to
you all; and once more I showre a welcome on yee: welcome all.

Hoboyes. Enter King and others as Maskers, habited like Shepheards,

vsher'd by the Lord Chamberlaine. They passe directly before the
Cardinall

and gracefully salute him.

A noble Company: what are their pleasures?   Cham. Because they speak
no English, thus they praid To tell your Grace: That hauing heard by
fame Of this so Noble and so faire assembly,

This night to meet heere they could doe no lesse, (Out of the great
respect they beare to beauty) But leaue their Flockes, and vnder your
faire Conduct Craue leaue to view these Ladies, and entreat An houre of
Reuels with 'em

Card. Say, Lord Chamberlaine,

They haue done my poore house grace:

For which I pay 'em a thousand thankes,

And pray 'em take their pleasures.

Choose Ladies, King and An Bullen.

King. The fairest hand I euer touch'd: O Beauty, Till now I neuer
knew thee.

Musicke, Dance.

Card. My Lord

Cham. Your Grace

Card. Pray tell 'em thus much from me: There should be one amongst
'em by his person More worthy this place then my selfe, to whom (If I
but knew him) with my loue and duty I would surrender it.

Whisper.

Cham. I will my Lord

Card. What say they?

Cham. Such a one, they all confesse

There is indeed, which they would haue your Grace Find out, and he will
take it

Card. Let me see then,

By all your good leaues Gentlemen; heere Ile make My royall choyce

Kin. Ye haue found him Cardinall,

You hold a faire Assembly; you doe well Lord: You are a Churchman, or
Ile tell you Cardinall, I should iudge now vnhappily

Card. I am glad

Your Grace is growne so pleasant

Kin. My Lord Chamberlaine,

Prethee come hither, what faire Ladie's that?   Cham. An't please your
Grace,

Sir Thomas Bullens Daughter, the Viscount Rochford, One of her
Highnesse women

Kin. By Heauen she is a dainty one. Sweet heart, I were vnmannerly
to take you out,

And not to kisse you. A health Gentlemen, Let it goe round

Card. Sir Thomas Louell, is the Banket ready I'th' Priuy Chamber?

Lou. Yes, my Lord

Card. Your Grace

I feare, with dancing is a little heated

Kin. I feare too much

Card. There's fresher ayre my Lord,

In the next Chamber

Kin. Lead in your Ladies eu'ry one: Sweet Partner, I must not yet
forsake you: Let's be merry, Good my Lord Cardinall: I haue halfe a
dozen healths, To drinke to these faire Ladies, and a measure To lead
'em once againe, and then let's dreame Who's best in fauour. Let the
Musicke knock it.

Exeunt. with Trumpets.



Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter two Gentlemen at seuerall Doores.

1. Whether away so fast?

2. O, God saue ye:

Eu'n to the Hall, to heare what shall become Of the great Duke of
Buckingham

1. Ile saue you

That labour Sir. All's now done but the Ceremony Of bringing backe the
Prisoner

2. Were you there ?

1. Yes indeed was I

2. Pray speake what ha's happen'd

1. You may guesse quickly what

2. Is he found guilty?

1. Yes truely is he,

And condemn'd vpon't

2. I am sorry fort

1. So are a number more

2. But pray how past it?

1. Ile tell you in a little. The great Duke Came to the Bar; where,
to his accusations He pleaded still not guilty, and alleadged Many
sharpe reasons to defeat the Law.

The Kings Atturney on the contrary,

Vrg'd on the Examinations, proofes, confessions Of diuers witnesses,
which the Duke desir'd To him brought viua voce to his face;

At which appear'd against him, his Surueyor Sir Gilbert Pecke his
Chancellour, and Iohn Car, Confessor to him, with that Diuell Monke,
Hopkins, that made this mischiefe

2. That was hee

That fed him with his Prophecies

1. The same,

All these accus'd him strongly, which he faine Would haue flung from
him; but indeed he could not; And so his Peeres vpon this euidence,

Haue found him guilty of high Treason. Much He spoke, and learnedly for
life: But all Was either pittied in him, or forgotten

2. After all this, how did he beare himselfe?   1. When he was
brought agen to th' Bar, to heare His Knell rung out, his Iudgement, he
was stir'd With such an Agony, he sweat extreamly,

And somthing spoke in choller, ill, and hasty: But he fell to himselfe
againe, and sweetly, In all the rest shew'd a most Noble patience

2. I doe not thinke he feares death

1. Sure he does not,

He neuer was so womanish, the cause

He may a little grieue at

2. Certainly,

The Cardinall is the end of this

1. Tis likely,

By all coniectures: First Kildares Attendure; Then Deputy of Ireland,
who remou'd

Earle Surrey, was sent thither, and in hast too, Least he should helpe
his Father

2. That tricke of State

Was a deepe enuious one,

1. At his returne,

No doubt he will requite it; this is noted (And generally) who euer the
King fauours, The Cardnall instantly will finde imployment, And farre
enough from Court too

2. All the Commons

Hate him perniciously, and o' my Conscience Wish him ten faddom deepe:
This Duke as much They loue and doate on: call him bounteous
Buckingham, The Mirror of all courtesie.

Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment, Tipstaues before him, the Axe
with

the edge towards him, Halberds on each side, accompanied with Sir
Thomas

Louell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir Walter Sands, and common people, &c.

1. Stay there Sir,

And see the noble ruin'd man you speake of

2. Let's stand close and behold him

Buck. All good people,

You that thus farre haue come to pitty me; Heare what I say, and then
goe home and lose me. I haue this day receiu'd a Traitors iudgement,
And by that name must dye; yet Heauen beare witnes, And if I haue a
Conscience, let it sincke me, Euen as the Axe falls, if I be not
faithfull. The Law I beare no mallice for my death,

T'has done vpon the premises, but Iustice: But those that sought it, I
could wish more Christians: (Be what they will) I heartily forgiue 'em;
Yet let 'em looke they glory not in mischiefe; Nor build their euils on
the graues of great men; For then, my guiltlesse blood must cry against
'em. For further life in this world I ne're hope, Nor will I sue,
although the King haue mercies More then I dare make faults.

You few that lou'd me,

And dare be bold to weepe for Buckingham, His Noble Friends and
Fellowes; whom to leaue Is only bitter to him, only dying:

Goe with me like good Angels to my end,

And as the long diuorce of Steele fals on me, Make of your Prayers one
sweet Sacrifice, And lift my Soule to Heauen.

Lead on a Gods name

Louell. I doe beseech your Grace, for charity If euer any malice in
your heart

Were hid against me, now to forgiue me frankly

Buck. Sir Thomas Louell, I as free forgiue you As I would be
forgiuen: I forgiue all.

There cannot be those numberlesse offences Gainst me, that I cannot
take peace with: No blacke Enuy shall make my Graue.

Commend mee to his Grace:

And if he speake of Buckingham; pray tell him, You met him halfe in
Heauen: my vowes and prayers Yet are the Kings; and till my Soule
forsake, Shall cry for blessings on him. May he liue Longer then I haue
time to tell his yeares; Euer belou'd and louing, may his Rule be; And
when old Time shall lead him to his end, Goodnesse and he, fill vp one
Monument

Lou. To th' water side I must conduct your Grace; Then giue my
Charge vp to Sir Nicholas Vaux, Who vndertakes you to your end

Vaux. Prepare there,

The Duke is comming: See the Barge be ready; And fit it with such
furniture as suites

The Greatnesse of his Person

Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas,

Let it alone; my State now will but mocke me. When I came hither, I was
Lord High Constable, And Duke of Buckingham: now, poore Edward Bohun;
Yet I am richer then my base Accusers,

That neuer knew what Truth meant: I now seale it; And with that bloud
will make 'em one day groane for't. My noble Father Henry of
Buckingham,

Who first rais'd head against Vsurping Richard, Flying for succour to
his Seruant Banister, Being distrest; was by that wretch betraid, And
without Tryall, fell; Gods peace be with him. Henry the Seauenth
succeeding, truly pittying My Fathers losse; like a most Royall Prince
Restor'd me to my Honours: and out of ruines Made my Name once more
Noble. Now his Sonne, Henry the Eight, Life, Honour, Name and all That
made me happy; at one stroake ha's taken For euer from the World. I had
my Tryall, And must needs say a Noble one; which makes me A little
happier then my wretched Father: Yet thus farre we are one in Fortunes;
both Fell by our Seruants, by those Men we lou'd most: A most
vnnaturall and faithlesse Seruice. Heauen ha's an end in all: yet, you
that heare me, This from a dying man receiue as certaine: Where you are
liberall of your loues and Councels, Be sure you be not loose; for
those you make friends, And giue your hearts to; when they once
perceiue The least rub in your fortunes, fall away Like water from ye,
neuer found againe

But where they meane to sinke ye: all good people Pray for me, I must
now forsake ye; the last houre Of my long weary life is come vpon me:

Farewell; and when you would say somthing that is sad, Speake how I
fell.

I haue done; and God forgiue me.

Exeunt. Duke and Traine.

1. O, this is full of pitty; Sir, it cals I feare, too many curses on
their heads

That were the Authors

2. If the Duke be guiltlesse,

'Tis full of woe: yet I can giue you inckling Of an ensuing euill, if
it fall,

Greater then this

1. Good Angels keepe it from vs:

What may it be? you doe not doubt my faith Sir?   2. This Secret is so
weighty, 'twill require A strong faith to conceale it

1. Let me haue it:

I doe not talke much

2. I am confident;

You shall Sir: Did you not of late dayes heare A buzzing of a
Separation

Betweene the King and Katherine?

1. Yes, but it held not;

For when the King once heard it, out of anger He sent command to the
Lord Mayor straight To stop the rumor; and allay those tongues That
durst disperse it

2. But that slander Sir,

Is found a truth now: for it growes agen

Fresher then e're it was; and held for certaine The King will venture
at it. Either the Cardinall, Or some about him neere, haue out of
malice To the good Queene, possest him with a scruple That will vndoe
her: To confirme this too, Cardinall Campeius is arriu'd, and lately,
As all thinke for this busines

1. Tis the Cardinall;

And meerely to reuenge him on the Emperour, For not bestowing on him at
his asking,

The Archbishopricke of Toledo, this is purpos'd

2. I thinke

You haue hit the marke; but is't not cruell, That she should feele the
smart of this: the Cardinall Will haue his will, and she must fall

1. 'Tis wofull.

Wee are too open heere to argue this:

Let's thinke in priuate more.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Lord Chamberlaine, reading this Letter.

My Lord, the Horses your Lordship sent for, with all the care I had, I
saw well chosen, ridden, and furnish'd. They were young and handsome,
and of the best breed in the North. When they were ready to set out for
London, a man of my Lord Cardinalls, by Commission, and maine power
tooke 'em from me, with this reason: his maister would bee seru'd
before a Subiect, if not before the King, which stop'd our mouthes
Sir.

I feare he will indeede; well, let him haue them; hee will haue all I
thinke.

Enter to the Lord Chamberlaine, the Dukes of Norfolke and Suffolke.

Norf. Well met my Lord Chamberlaine

Cham. Good day to both your Graces

Suff. How is the King imployd?

Cham. I left him priuate,

Full of sad thoughts and troubles

Norf. What's the cause?

Cham. It seemes the Marriage with his Brothers Wife Ha's crept too
neere his Conscience

Suff. No, his Conscience

Ha's crept too neere another Ladie

Norf. Tis so;

This is the Cardinals doing: The King-Cardinall, That blinde Priest,
like the eldest Sonne of Fortune, Turnes what he list. The King will
know him one day

Suff. Pray God he doe,

Hee'l neuer know himselfe else

Norf. How holily he workes in all his businesse, And with what
zeale? For now he has crackt the League Between vs & the Emperor (the
Queens great Nephew) He diues into the Kings Soule, and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the Conscience, Feares, and despaires, and
all these for his Marriage. And out of all these, to restore the King,
He counsels a Diuorce, a losse of her

That like a Iewell, ha's hung twenty yeares About his necke, yet neuer
lost her lustre; Of her that loues him with that excellence, That
Angels loue good men with: Euen of her, That when the greatest stroake
of Fortune falls Will blesse the King: and is not this course pious?
Cham. Heauen keep me from such councel: tis most true These newes are
euery where, euery tongue speaks 'em, And euery true heart weepes
for't. All that dare Looke into these affaires, see this maine end, The
French Kings Sister. Heauen will one day open The Kings eyes, that so
long haue slept vpon This bold bad man

Suff. And free vs from his slauery

Norf. We had need pray,

And heartily, for our deliuerance;

Or this imperious man will worke vs all

From Princes into Pages: all mens honours Lie like one lumpe before
him, to be fashion'd Into what pitch he please

Suff. For me, my Lords,

I loue him not, nor feare him, there's my Creede: As I am made without
him, so Ile stand,

If the King please: his Curses and his blessings Touch me alike: th'are
breath I not beleeue in. I knew him, and I know him: so I leaue him To
him that made him proud; the Pope

Norf. Let's in;

And with some other busines, put the King From these sad thoughts, that
work too much vpon him: My Lord, youle beare vs company?

Cham. Excuse me,

The King ha's sent me otherwhere: Besides You'l finde a most vnfit time
to disturbe him: Health to your Lordships

Norfolke. Thankes my good Lord Chamberlaine. Exit Lord Chamberlaine,
and the King drawes the Curtaine and sits reading

pensiuely.

Suff. How sad he lookes; sure he is much afflicted

Kin. Who's there? Ha?

Norff. Pray God he be not angry

Kin. Who's there I say? How dare you thrust your selues Into my
priuate Meditations?

Who am I? Ha?

Norff. A gracious King, that pardons all offences Malice ne're meant:
Our breach of Duty this way, Is businesse of Estate; in which, we come
To know your Royall pleasure

Kin. Ye are too bold:

Go too; Ile make ye know your times of businesse: Is this an howre for
temporall affaires? Ha? Enter Wolsey and Campeius with a Commission.

Who's there? my good Lord Cardinall? O my Wolsey, The quiet of my
wounded Conscience;

Thou art a cure fit for a King; you'r welcome Most learned Reuerend
Sir, into our Kingdome, Vse vs, and it: My good Lord, haue great care,
I be not found a Talker

Wol. Sir, you cannot;

I would your Grace would giue vs but an houre Of priuate conference

Kin. We are busie; goe

Norff. This Priest ha's no pride in him?   Suff. Not to speake of:

I would not be so sicke though for his place: But this cannot continue

Norff. If it doe, Ile venture one; haue at him

Suff. I another.

Exeunt. Norfolke and Suffolke.

Wol. Your Grace ha's giuen a President of wisedome Aboue all Princes,
in committing freely

Your scruple to the voyce of Christendome: Who can be angry now? What
Enuy reach you? The Spaniard tide by blood and fauour to her, Must now
confesse, if they haue any goodnesse, The Tryall, iust and Noble. All
the Clerkes, (I meane the learned ones in Christian Kingdomes) Haue
their free voyces. Rome (the Nurse of Iudgement) Inuited by your Noble
selfe, hath sent

One generall Tongue vnto vs. This good man, This iust and learned
Priest, Cardnall Campeius, Whom once more, I present vnto your
Highnesse

Kin. And once more in mine armes I bid him welcome, And thanke the
holy Conclaue for their loues, They haue sent me such a Man, I would
haue wish'd for

Cam. Your Grace must needs deserue all strangers loues, You are so
Noble: To your Highnesse hand

I tender my Commission; by whose vertue,

The Court of Rome commanding. You my Lord Cardinall of Yorke, are
ioyn'd with me their Seruant, In the vnpartiall iudging of this
Businesse

Kin. Two equall men: The Queene shall be acquainted Forthwith for
what you come. Where's Gardiner?   Wol. I know your Maiesty, ha's
alwayes lou'd her So deare in heart, not to deny her that

A Woman of lesse Place might aske by Law; Schollers allow'd freely to
argue for her

Kin. I, and the best she shall haue; and my fauour To him that does
best, God forbid els: Cardinall, Prethee call Gardiner to me, my new
Secretary. I find him a fit fellow.

Enter Gardiner.

Wol. Giue me your hand: much ioy & fauour to you; You are the Kings
now

Gard. But to be commanded

For euer by your Grace, whose hand ha's rais'd me

Kin. Come hither Gardiner.

Walkes and whispers.

Camp. My Lord of Yorke, was not one Doctor Pace In this mans place
before him?

Wol. Yes, he was

Camp. Was he not held a learned man?

Wol. Yes surely

Camp. Beleeue me, there's an ill opinion spread then, Euen of your
selfe Lord Cardinall

Wol. How? of me?

Camp. They will not sticke to say, you enuide him; And fearing he
would rise (he was so vertuous) Kept him a forraigne man still, which
so greeu'd him, That he ran mad, and dide

Wol. Heau'ns peace be with him:

That's Christian care enough: for liuing Murmurers, There's places of
rebuke. He was a Foole; For he would needs be vertuous. That good
Fellow, If I command him followes my appointment, I will haue none so
neere els. Learne this Brother, We liue not to be grip'd by meaner
persons

Kin. Deliuer this with modesty to th' Queene.

Exit Gardiner.

The most conuenient place, that I can thinke of For such receipt of
Learning, is Black-Fryers: There ye shall meete about this waighty
busines. My Wolsey, see it furnish'd, O my Lord,

Would it not grieue an able man to leaue

So sweet a Bedfellow? But Conscience, Conscience; O 'tis a tender
place, and I must leaue her.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.

An. Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches. His
Highnesse, hauing liu'd so long with her, and she So good a Lady, that
no Tongue could euer Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life,

She neuer knew harme-doing: Oh, now after So many courses of the Sun
enthroaned,

Still growing in a Maiesty and pompe, the which To leaue, a thousand
fold more bitter, then 'Tis sweet at first t' acquire. After this
Processe. To giue her the auaunt, it is a pitty

Would moue a Monster

Old La. Hearts of most hard temper

Melt and lament for her

An. Oh Gods will, much better

She ne're had knowne pompe; though't be temporall, Yet if that
quarrell. Fortune, do diuorce It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance,
panging As soule and bodies seuering

Old L. Alas poore Lady,

Shee's a stranger now againe

An. So much the more

Must pitty drop vpon her; verily

I sweare, tis better to be lowly borne,

And range with humble liuers in Content,

Then to be perk'd vp in a glistring griefe, And weare a golden sorrow

Old L. Our content

Is our best hauing

Anne. By my troth, and Maidenhead,

I would not be a Queene

Old.L. Beshrew me, I would,

And venture Maidenhead for't, and so would you For all this spice of
your Hipocrisie:

You that haue so faire parts of Woman on you, Haue (too) a Womans
heart, which euer yet Affected Eminence, Wealth, Soueraignty;

Which, to say sooth, are Blessings; and which guifts (Sauing your
mincing) the capacity

Of your soft Chiuerell Conscience, would receiue, If you might please
to stretch it

Anne. Nay, good troth

Old L. Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen?   Anne. No, not
for all the riches vnder Heauen

Old.L. Tis strange; a threepence bow'd would hire me Old as I am, to
Queene it: but I pray you, What thinke you of a Dutchesse? Haue you
limbs To beare that load of Title?

An. No in truth

Old.L. Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little, I would not be
a young Count in your way, For more then blushing comes to: If your
backe Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, tis too weake Euer to get a Boy

An. How you doe talke;

I sweare againe, I would not be a Queene, For all the world

Old.L. In faith, for little England

You'ld venture an emballing: I my selfe

Would for Carnaruanshire, although there long'd No more to th' Crowne
but that: Lo, who comes here? Enter Lord Chamberlaine.

L.Cham. Good morrow Ladies; what wer't worth to know The secret of
your conference?

An. My good Lord,

Not your demand; it values not your asking: Our Mistris Sorrowes we
were pittying

Cham. It was a gentle businesse, and becomming The action of good
women, there is hope

All will be well

An. Now I pray God, Amen

Cham. You beare a gentle minde, & heau'nly blessings Follow such
Creatures. That you may, faire Lady Perceiue I speake sincerely, and
high notes Tane of your many vertues; the Kings Maiesty Commends his
good opinion of you, to you; and Doe's purpose honour to you no lesse
flowing, Then Marchionesse of Pembrooke; to which Title, A Thousand
pound a yeare, Annuall support, Out of his Grace, he addes

An. I doe not know

What kinde of my obedience, I should tender; More then my All, is
Nothing: Nor my Prayers Are not words duely hallowed; nor my Wishes
More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & Wishes Are all I can
returne. 'Beseech your Lordship, Vouchsafe to speake my thankes, and my
obedience, As from a blushing Handmaid, to his Highnesse; Whose health
and Royalty I pray for

Cham. Lady;

I shall not faile t' approue the faire conceit The King hath of you. I
haue perus'd her well, Beauty and Honour in her are so mingled,

That they haue caught the King: and who knowes yet But from this Lady,
may proceed a Iemme,

To lighten all this Ile. I'le to the King, And say I spoke with you.

Exit Lord Chamberlaine.

An. My honour'd Lord

Old.L. Why this it is: See, see,

I haue beene begging sixteene yeares in Court (Am yet a Courtier
beggerly) nor could

Come pat betwixt too early, and too late

For any suit of pounds: and you, (oh fate) A very fresh Fish heere;
fye, fye, fye vpon This compel'd fortune: haue your mouth fild vp,
Before you open it

An. This is strange to me

Old L. How tasts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no: There was a Lady
once (tis an old Story)

That would not be a Queene, that would she not For all the mud in
Egypt; haue you heard it?   An. Come you are pleasant

Old.L. With your Theame, I could

O're-mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of Pembrooke? A thousand pounds
a yeare, for pure respect? No other obligation? by my Life,

That promises mo thousands: Honours traine Is longer then his
fore-skirt; by this time I know your backe will beare a Dutchesse. Say,
Are you not stronger then you were?

An. Good Lady,

Make your selfe mirth with your particular fancy, And leaue me out
on't. Would I had no being If this salute my blood a iot; it faints me
To thinke what followes.

The Queene is comfortlesse, and wee forgetfull In our long absence:
pray doe not deliuer, What heere y'haue heard to her

Old L. What doe you thinke me -

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short siluer

wands; next them two Scribes in the habite of Doctors; after them, the

Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincolne, Ely,

Rochester, and S[aint]. Asaph: Next them, with some small distance,

followes a Gentleman bearing the Purse, with the great Seale, and a

Cardinals Hat: Then two Priests, bearing each a Siluer Crosse: Then a

Gentleman Vsher bareheaded, accompanyed with a Sergeant at Armes,
bearing

a Siluer Mace: Then two Gentlemen bearing two great Siluer Pillers:
After

them, side by side, the two Cardinals, two Noblemen, with the Sword
and

Mace. The King takes place vnder the Cloth of State. The two
Cardinalls

sit vnder him as Iudges. The Queene takes place some distance from the

King. The Bishops place themselues on each side the Court in manner of
a

Consistory: Below them the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops.
The

rest of the Attendants stand in conuenient order about the Stage.

Car. Whil'st our Commission from Rome is read, Let silence be
commanded

King. What's the need?

It hath already publiquely bene read,

And on all sides th' Authority allow'd,

You may then spare that time

Car. Bee't so, proceed

Scri. Say, Henry K[ing]. of England, come into the Court

Crier. Henry King of England, &c

King. Heere

Scribe. Say, Katherine Queene of England, Come into the Court

Crier. Katherine Queene of England, &c.

The Queene makes no answer, rises out of her Chaire, goes about the

Court, comes to the King, and kneeles at his Feete. Then speakes.

Sir, I desire you do me Right and Iustice, And to bestow your pitty on
me; for

I am a most poore Woman, and a Stranger,

Borne out of your Dominions: hauing heere No Iudge indifferent, nor no
more assurance Of equall Friendship and Proceeding. Alas Sir: In what
haue I offended you? What cause

Hath my behauiour giuen to your displeasure, That thus you should
proceede to put me off, And take your good Grace from me? Heauen
witnesse, I haue bene to you, a true and humble Wife, At all times to
your will conformable:

Euer in feare to kindle your Dislike,

Yea, subiect to your Countenance: Glad, or sorry, As I saw it inclin'd?
When was the houre

I euer contradicted your Desire?

Or made it not mine too? Or which of your Friends Haue I not stroue to
loue, although I knew He were mine Enemy? What Friend of mine,

That had to him deriu'd your Anger, did I Continue in my Liking? Nay,
gaue notice

He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to minde, That I haue beene
your Wife, in this Obedience, Vpward of twenty years, and haue bene
blest With many Children by you. If in the course And processe of this
time, you can report, And proue it too, against mine Honor, aught; My
bond to Wedlocke, or my Loue and Dutie Against your Sacred Person; in
Gods name

Turne me away: and let the fowl'st Contempt Shut doore vpon me, and so
giue me vp

To the sharp'st kinde of Iustice. Please you, Sir, The King your
Father, was reputed for

A Prince most Prudent; of an excellent

And vnmatch'd Wit, and Iudgement. Ferdinand My Father, King of Spaine,
was reckon'd one The wisest Prince, that there had reign'd, by many A
yeare before. It is not to be question'd, That they had gather'd a wise
Councell to them Of euery Realme, that did debate this Businesse, Who
deem'd our Marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly Beseech you Sir, to
spare me, till I may

Be by my Friends in Spaine, aduis'd; whose Counsaile I will implore. If
not, i'th' name of God Your pleasure be fulfill'd

Wol. You haue heere Lady,

(And of your choice) these Reuerend Fathers, men Of singular Integrity,
and Learning;

Yea, the elect o'th' Land, who are assembled To pleade your Cause. It
shall be therefore bootlesse, That longer you desire the Court, as well
For your owne quiet, as to rectifie

What is vnsetled in the King

Camp. His Grace

Hath spoken well, and iustly: Therefore Madam, It's fit this Royall
Session do proceed,

And that (without delay) their Arguments

Be now produc'd, and heard

Qu. Lord Cardinall, to you I speake

Wol. Your pleasure, Madam

Qu. Sir, I am about to weepe; but thinking that We are a Queene (or
long haue dream'd so) certaine The daughter of a King, my drops of
teares, Ile turne to sparkes of fire

Wol. Be patient yet

Qu. I will, when you are humble; Nay before, Or God will punish me.
I do beleeue

(Induc'd by potent Circumstances) that

You are mine Enemy, and make my Challenge, You shall not be my Iudge.
For it is you

Haue blowne this Coale, betwixt my Lord, and me; (Which Gods dew
quench) therefore, I say againe, I vtterly abhorre; yea, from my Soule

Refuse you for my Iudge, whom yet once more I hold my most malicious
Foe, and thinke not At all a Friend to truth

Wol. I do professe

You speake not like your selfe: who euer yet Haue stood to Charity, and
displayd th' effects Of disposition gentle, and of wisedome,

Ore-topping womans powre. Madam, you do me wrong I haue no Spleene
against you, nor iniustice For you, or any: how farre I haue proceeded,
Or how farre further (Shall) is warranted By a Commission from the
Consistorie,

Yea, the whole Consistorie of Rome. You charge me, That I haue blowne
this Coale: I do deny it, The King is present: If it be knowne to him,
That I gainsay my Deed, how may he wound, And worthily my Falsehood,
yea, as much

As you haue done my Truth. If he know

That I am free of your Report, he knowes

I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him

It lies to cure me, and the Cure is to

Remoue these Thoughts from you. The which before His Highnesse shall
speake in, I do beseech You (gracious Madam) to vnthinke your speaking,
And to say so no more

Queen. My Lord, My Lord,

I am a simple woman, much too weake

T' oppose your cunning. Y'are meek, & humble-mouth'd You signe your
Place, and Calling, in full seeming, With Meekenesse and Humilitie: but
your Heart Is cramm'd with Arrogancie, Spleene, and Pride. You haue by
Fortune, and his Highnesse fauors, Gone slightly o're lowe steppes, and
now are mounted Where Powres are your Retainers, and your words
(Domestickes to you) serue your will, as't please Your selfe pronounce
their Office. I must tell you, You tender more your persons Honor,
then

Your high profession Spirituall. That agen I do refuse you for my
Iudge, and heere

Before you all, Appeale vnto the Pope,

To bring my whole Cause 'fore his Holinesse, And to be iudg'd by him.

She Curtsies to the King, and offers to depart.

Camp. The Queene is obstinate,

Stubborne to Iustice, apt to accuse it, and Disdainfull to be tride
by't; tis not well. Shee's going away

Kin. Call her againe

Crier. Katherine. Q[ueene]. of England, come into the Court

Gent.Vsh. Madam, you are cald backe

Que. What need you note it? pray you keep your way, When you are
cald returne. Now the Lord helpe, They vexe me past my patience, pray
you passe on; I will not tarry: no, nor euer more

Vpon this businesse my appearance make,

In any of their Courts.

Exit Queene, and her Attendants.

Kin. Goe thy wayes Kate,

That man i'th' world, who shall report he ha's A better Wife, let him
in naught be trusted, For speaking false in that; thou art alone (If
thy rare qualities, sweet gentlenesse, Thy meeknesse Saint-like,
Wife-like Gouernment, Obeying in commanding, and thy parts

Soueraigne and Pious els, could speake thee out) The Queene of earthly
Queenes: Shee's Noble borne; And like her true Nobility, she ha's

Carried her selfe towards me

Wol. Most gracious Sir,

In humblest manner I require your Highnes, That it shall please you to
declare in hearing Of all these eares (for where I am rob'd and bound,
There must I be vnloos'd, although not there At once, and fully
satisfide) whether euer I Did broach this busines to your Highnes, or
Laid any scruple in your way, which might Induce you to the question
on't: or euer

Haue to you, but with thankes to God for such A Royall Lady, spake one,
the least word that might Be to the preiudice of her present State, Or
touch of her good Person?

Kin. My Lord Cardinall,

I doe excuse you; yea, vpon mine Honour,

I free you from't: You are not to be taught That you haue many enemies,
that know not Why they are so; but like to Village Curres, Barke when
their fellowes doe. By some of these The Queene is put in anger; y'are
excus'd: But will you be more iustifi'de? You euer Haue wish'd the
sleeping of this busines, neuer desir'd It to be stir'd; but oft haue
hindred, oft The passages made toward it; on my Honour, I speake my
good Lord Cardnall, to this point; And thus farre cleare him.

Now, what mou'd me too't,

I will be bold with time and your attention: Then marke th' inducement.
Thus it came; giue heede too't: My Conscience first receiu'd a
tendernes, Scruple, and pricke, on certaine Speeches vtter'd By th'
Bishop of Bayon, then French Embassador, Who had beene hither sent on
the debating And Marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleance, and Our Daughter
Mary: I'th' Progresse of this busines, Ere a determinate resolution,
hee

(I meane the Bishop) did require a respite, Wherein he might the King
his Lord aduertise, Whether our Daughter were legitimate,

Respecting this our Marriage with the Dowager, Sometimes our Brothers
Wife. This respite shooke The bosome of my Conscience, enter'd me;

Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble The region of my
Breast, which forc'd such way, That many maz'd considerings, did
throng

And prest in with this Caution. First, me thought I stood not in the
smile of Heauen, who had Commanded Nature, that my Ladies wombe

If it conceiu'd a male-child by me, should Doe no more Offices of life
too't; then

The Graue does to th' dead: For her Male Issue, Or di'de where they
were made, or shortly after This world had ayr'd them. Hence I tooke a
thought, This was a Iudgement on me, that my Kingdome (Well worthy the
best Heyre o'th' World) should not Be gladded in't by me. Then
followes, that I weigh'd the danger which my Realmes stood in By this
my Issues faile, and that gaue to me Many a groaning throw: thus
hulling in

The wild Sea of my Conscience, I did steere Toward this remedy,
whereupon we are

Now present heere together: that's to say, I meant to rectifie my
Conscience, which

I then did feele full sicke, and yet not well, By all the Reuerend
Fathers of the Land,

And Doctors learn'd. First I began in priuate, With you my Lord of
Lincolne; you remember How vnder my oppression I did reeke

When I first mou'd you

B.Lin. Very well my Liedge

Kin. I haue spoke long, be pleas'd your selfe to say How farre you
satisfide me

Lin. So please your Highnes,

The question did at first so stagger me,

Bearing a State of mighty moment in't,

And consequence of dread, that I committed The daringst Counsaile which
I had to doubt, And did entreate your Highnes to this course, Which you
are running heere

Kin. I then mou'd you,

My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leaue To make this present Summons
vnsolicited. I left no Reuerend Person in this Court;

But by particular consent proceeded

Vnder your hands and Seales; therefore goe on, For no dislike i'th'
world against the person Of the good Queene; but the sharpe thorny
points Of my alleadged reasons, driues this forward: Proue but our
Marriage lawfull, by my Life And Kingly Dignity, we are contented

To weare our mortall State to come, with her, (Katherine our Queene)
before the primest Creature That's Parragon'd o'th' World

Camp. So please your Highnes,

The Queene being absent, 'tis a needfull fitnesse, That we adiourne
this Court till further day; Meane while, must be an earnest motion

Made to the Queene to call backe her Appeale She intends vnto his
Holinesse

Kin. I may perceiue

These Cardinals trifle with me: I abhorre This dilatory sloth, and
trickes of Rome. My learn'd and welbeloued Seruant Cranmer, Prethee
returne, with thy approch: I know, My comfort comes along: breake vp
the Court; I say, set on.

Exeunt., in manner as they enter'd.



Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.



Enter Queene and her Women as at worke.

Queen. Take thy Lute wench,

My Soule growes sad with troubles,

Sing, and disperse 'em if thou canst: leaue working.

SONG.

Orpheus with his Lute made Trees,

And the Mountaine tops that freeze,

Bow themselues when he did sing.

To his Musicke, Plants and Flowers

Euer sprung; as Sunne and Showers,

There had made a lasting Spring.

Euery thing that heard him play,

Euen the Billowes of the Sea,

Hung their heads, & then lay by.

In sweet Musicke is such Art,

Killing care, & griefe of heart,

Fall asleepe, or hearing dye.

Enter a Gentleman.

Queen. How now?

Gent. And't please your Grace, the two great Cardinals Wait in the
presence

Queen. Would they speake with me?

Gent. They wil'd me say so Madam

Queen. Pray their Graces

To come neere: what can be their busines

With me, a poore weake woman, falne from fauour? I doe not like their
comming; now I thinke on't, They should bee good men, their affaires as
righteous: But all Hoods, make not Monkes.

Enter the two Cardinalls, Wolsey & Campian.

Wols. Peace to your Highnesse

Queen. Your Graces find me heere part of a Houswife, (I would be
all) against the worst may happen: What are your pleasures with me,
reuerent Lords?   Wol. May it please you Noble Madam, to withdraw Into
your priuate Chamber; we shall giue you The full cause of our comming

Queen. Speake it heere.

There's nothing I haue done yet o' my Conscience Deserues a Corner:
would all other Women

Could speake this with as free a Soule as I doe. My Lords, I care not
(so much I am happy

Aboue a number) if my actions

Were tri'de by eu'ry tongue, eu'ry eye saw 'em, Enuy and base opinion
set against 'em,

I know my life so euen. If your busines

Seeke me out, and that way I am Wife in;

Out with it boldly: Truth loues open dealing

Card. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas Regina serenissima

Queen. O good my Lord, no Latin;

I am not such a Truant since my comming,

As not to know the Language I haue liu'd in: A strange Tongue makes my
cause more strange, suspitious: Pray speake in English; heere are some
will thanke you, If you speake truth, for their poore Mistris sake;
Beleeue me she ha's had much wrong. Lord Cardinall, The willing'st
sinne I euer yet committed, May be absolu'd in English

Card. Noble Lady,

I am sorry my integrity should breed,

(And seruice to his Maiesty and you)

So deepe suspition, where all faith was meant; We come not by the way
of Accusation,

To taint that honour euery good Tongue blesses; Nor to betray you any
way to sorrow;

You haue too much good Lady: But to know

How you stand minded in the waighty difference Betweene the King and
you, and to deliuer (Like free and honest men) our iust opinions, And
comforts to our cause

Camp. Most honour'd Madam,

My Lord of Yorke, out of his Noble nature, Zeale and obedience he still
bore your Grace, Forgetting (like a good man) your late Censure Both of
his truth and him (which was too farre) Offers, as I doe, in a signe of
peace,

His Seruice, and his Counsell

Queen. To betray me.

My Lords, I thanke you both for your good wills, Ye speake like honest
men, (pray God ye proue so) But how to make ye sodainly an Answere

In such a poynt of weight, so neere mine Honour, (More neere my Life I
feare) with my weake wit; And to such men of grauity and learning;

In truth I know not. I was set at worke,

Among my Maids, full little (God knowes) looking Either for such men,
or such businesse;

For her sake that I haue beene, for I feele The last fit of my
Greatnesse; good your Graces Let me haue time and Councell for my
Cause: Alas, I am a Woman frendlesse, hopelesse

Wol. Madam,

You wrong the Kings loue with these feares, Your hopes and friends are
infinite

Queen. In England,

But little for my profit can you thinke Lords, That any English man
dare giue me Councell? Or be a knowne friend 'gainst his Highnes
pleasure, (Though he be growne so desperate to be honest) And liue a
Subiect? Nay forsooth, my Friends, They that must weigh out my
afflictions,

They that my trust must grow to, liue not heere, They are (as all my
other comforts) far hence In mine owne Countrey Lords

Camp. I would your Grace

Would leaue your greefes, and take my Counsell

Queen. How Sir?

Camp. Put your maine cause into the Kings protection, Hee's louing
and most gracious. 'Twill be much, Both for your Honour better, and
your Cause: For if the tryall of the Law o'retake ye, You'l part away
disgrac'd

Wol. He tels you rightly

Queen. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my ruine: Is this your
Christian Councell? Out vpon ye. Heauen is aboue all yet; there sits a
Iudge, That no King can corrupt

Camp. Your rage mistakes vs

Queen. The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye, Vpon my Soule
two reuerend Cardinall Vertues: But Cardinall Sins, and hollow hearts I
feare ye: Mend 'em for shame my Lords: Is this your comfort? The
Cordiall that ye bring a wretched Lady? A woman lost among ye, laugh't
at, scornd? I will not wish ye halfe my miseries,

I haue more Charity. But say I warn'd ye; Take heed, for heauens sake
take heed, least at once The burthen of my sorrowes, fall vpon ye

Car. Madam, this is a meere distraction, You turne the good we
offer, into enuy

Quee. Ye turne me into nothing. Woe vpon ye, And all such false
Professors. Would you haue me (If you haue any Iustice, any Pitty,

If ye be any thing but Churchmens habits) Put my sicke cause into his
hands, that hates me? Alas, ha's banish'd me his Bed already,

His Loue, too long ago. I am old my Lords, And all the Fellowship I
hold now with him Is onely my Obedience. What can happen

To me, aboue this wretchednesse? All your Studies Make me a Curse, like
this

Camp. Your feares are worse

Qu. Haue I liu'd thus long (let me speake my selfe, Since Vertue
findes no friends) a Wife, a true one? A Woman (I dare say without
Vainglory)

Neuer yet branded with Suspition?

Haue I, with all my full Affections

Still met the King? Lou'd him next Heau'n? Obey'd him? Bin (out of
fondnesse) superstitious to him? Almost forgot my Prayres to content
him?

And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well Lords. Bring me a constant woman
to her Husband, One that ne're dream'd a Ioy, beyond his pleasure; And
to that Woman (when she has done most) Yet will I adde an Honor; a
great Patience

Car. Madam, you wander from the good

We ayme at

Qu. My Lord,

I dare not make my selfe so guiltie,

To giue vp willingly that Noble Title

Your Master wed me to: nothing but death

Shall e're diuorce my Dignities

Car. Pray heare me

Qu. Would I had neuer trod this English Earth, Or felt the
Flatteries that grow vpon it: Ye haue Angels Faces; but Heauen knowes
your hearts. What will become of me now, wretched Lady? I am the most
vnhappy Woman liuing.

Alas (poore Wenches) where are now your Fortunes? Shipwrack'd vpon a
Kingdome, where no Pitty, No Friends, no Hope, no Kindred weepe for me?
Almost no Graue allow'd me? Like the Lilly That once was Mistris of the
Field, and flourish'd, Ile hang my head, and perish

Car. If your Grace

Could but be brought to know, our Ends are honest, Youl'd feele more
comfort. Why shold we (good Lady) Vpon what cause wrong you? Alas, our
Places, The way of our Profession is against it;

We are to Cure such sorrowes, not to sowe 'em. For Goodnesse sake,
consider what you do, How you may hurt your selfe: I, vtterly

Grow from the Kings Acquaintance, by this Carriage. The hearts of
Princes kisse Obedience,

So much they loue it. But to stubborne Spirits, They swell and grow, as
terrible as stormes. I know you haue a Gentle, Noble temper,

A Soule as euen as a Calme; Pray thinke vs, Those we professe,
Peace-makers, Friends, and Seruants

Camp. Madam, you'l finde it so:

You wrong your Vertues

With these weake Womens feares. A Noble Spirit As yours was, put into
you, euer casts

Such doubts as false Coine from it. The King loues you, Beware you
loose it not: For vs (if you please To trust vs in your businesse) we
are ready To vse our vtmost Studies, in your seruice

Qu. Do what ye will, my Lords:

And pray forgiue me;

If I haue vs'd my selfe vnmannerly,

You know I am a Woman, lacking wit

To make a seemely answer to such persons. Pray do my seruice to his
Maiestie,

He ha's my heart yet, and shall haue my Prayers While I shall haue my
life. Come reuerend Fathers, Bestow your Councels on me. She now begges
That little thought when she set footing heere, She should haue bought
her Dignities so deere.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter the Duke of Norfolke, Duke of Suffolke, Lord Surrey, and Lord

Chamberlaine.

Norf. If you will now vnite in your Complaints, And force them with a
Constancy, the Cardinall Cannot stand vnder them. If you omit

The offer of this time, I cannot promise, But that you shall sustaine
moe new disgraces, With these you beare alreadie

Sur. I am ioyfull

To meete the least occasion, that may giue me Remembrance of my
Father-in-Law, the Duke, To be reueng'd on him

Suf. Which of the Peeres

Haue vncontemn'd gone by him, or at least Strangely neglected? When did
he regard

The stampe of Noblenesse in any person

Out of himselfe?

Cham. My Lords, you speake your pleasures: What he deserues of you
and me, I know:

What we can do to him (though now the time Giues way to vs) I much
feare. If you cannot Barre his accesse to'th' King, neuer attempt Any
thing on him: for he hath a Witchcraft Ouer the King in's Tongue

Nor. O feare him not,

His spell in that is out: the King hath found Matter against him, that
for euer marres

The Hony of his Language. No, he's setled (Not to come off) in his
displeasure

Sur. Sir,

I should be glad to heare such Newes as this Once euery houre

Nor. Beleeue it, this is true.

In the Diuorce, his contrarie proceedings Are all vnfolded: wherein he
appeares,

As I would wish mine Enemy

Sur. How came

His practises to light?

Suf. Most strangely

Sur. O how? how?

Suf. The Cardinals Letters to the Pope miscarried, And came to th'
eye o'th' King, wherein was read How that the Cardinall did intreat his
Holinesse To stay the Iudgement o'th' Diuorce; for if It did take
place, I do (quoth he) perceiue My King is tangled in affection, to

A Creature of the Queenes, Lady Anne Bullen

Sur. Ha's the King this?

Suf. Beleeue it

Sur. Will this worke?

Cham. The King in this perceiues him, how he coasts And hedges his
owne way. But in this point All his trickes founder, and he brings his
Physicke After his Patients death; the King already Hath married the
faire Lady

Sur. Would he had

Suf. May you be happy in your wish my Lord, For I professe you haue
it

Sur. Now all my ioy

Trace the Coniunction

Suf. My Amen too't

Nor. All mens

Suf. There's order giuen for her Coronation: Marry this is yet but
yong, and may be left To some eares vnrecounted. But my Lords

She is a gallant Creature, and compleate

In minde and feature. I perswade me, from her Will fall some blessing
to this Land, which shall In it be memoriz'd

Sur. But will the King

Digest this Letter of the Cardinals?

The Lord forbid

Nor. Marry Amen

Suf. No, no:

There be moe Waspes that buz about his Nose, Will make this sting the
sooner. Cardinall Campeius, Is stolne away to Rome, hath 'tane no
leaue, Ha's left the cause o'th' King vnhandled, and Is posted as the
Agent of our Cardinall,

To second all his plot. I do assure you,

The King cry'de Ha, at this

Cham. Now God incense him,

And let him cry Ha, lowder

Norf. But my Lord

When returnes Cranmer?

Suf. He is return'd in his Opinions, which Haue satisfied the King
for his Diuorce,

Together with all famous Colledges

Almost in Christendome: shortly (I beleeue) His second Marriage shall
be publishd, and Her Coronation. Katherine no more

Shall be call'd Queene, but Princesse Dowager, And Widdow to Prince
Arthur

Nor. This same Cranmer's

A worthy Fellow, and hath tane much paine In the Kings businesse

Suff. He ha's, and we shall see him

For it, an Arch-byshop

Nor. So I heare

Suf. 'Tis so.

Enter Wolsey and Cromwell.

The Cardinall

Nor. Obserue, obserue, hee's moody

Car. The Packet Cromwell,

Gau't you the King?

Crom. To his owne hand, in's Bed-chamber

Card. Look'd he o'th' inside of the Paper?   Crom. Presently

He did vnseale them, and the first he view'd, He did it with a Serious
minde: a heede

Was in his countenance. You he bad

Attend him heere this Morning

Card. Is he ready to come abroad?

Crom. I thinke by this he is

Card. Leaue me a while.

Exit Cromwell.

It shall be to the Dutches of Alanson,

The French Kings Sister; He shall marry her. Anne Bullen? No: Ile no
Anne Bullens for him, There's more in't then faire Visage. Bullen? No,
wee'l no Bullens: Speedily I wish

To heare from Rome. The Marchionesse of Penbroke?   Nor. He's
discontented

Suf. Maybe he heares the King

Does whet his Anger to him

Sur. Sharpe enough,

Lord for thy Iustice

Car. The late Queenes Gentlewoman?

A Knights Daughter

To be her Mistris Mistris? The Queenes, Queene? This Candle burnes not
cleere, 'tis I must snuffe it, Then out it goes. What though I know her
vertuous And well deseruing? yet I know her for

A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholsome to

Our cause, that she should lye i'th' bosome of Our hard rul'd King.
Againe, there is sprung vp An Heretique, an Arch-one; Cranmer, one

Hath crawl'd into the fauour of the King, And is his Oracle

Nor. He is vex'd at something.

Enter King, reading of a Scedule.

Sur. I would 'twer somthing y would fret the string, The Master-cord
on's heart

Suf. The King, the King

King. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated To his owne portion?
And what expence by'th' houre Seemes to flow from him? How, i'th' name
of Thrift Does he rake this together? Now my Lords, Saw you the
Cardinall?

Nor. My Lord, we haue

Stood heere obseruing him. Some strange Commotion Is in his braine: He
bites his lip, and starts, Stops on a sodaine, lookes vpon the ground,
Then layes his finger on his Temple: straight Springs out into fast
gate, then stops againe, Strikes his brest hard, and anon, he casts His
eye against the Moone: in most strange Postures We haue seene him set
himselfe

King. It may well be,

There is a mutiny in's minde. This morning, Papers of State he sent me,
to peruse

As I requir'd: and wot you what I found

There (on my Conscience put vnwittingly)

Forsooth an Inuentory, thus importing

The seuerall parcels of his Plate, his Treasure, Rich Stuffes and
Ornaments of Houshold, which I finde at such proud Rate, that it
out-speakes Possession of a Subiect

Nor. It's Heauens will,

Some Spirit put this paper in the Packet, To blesse your eye withall

King. If we did thinke

His Contemplation were aboue the earth,

And fixt on Spirituall obiect, he should still Dwell in his Musings,
but I am affraid

His Thinkings are below the Moone, not worth His serious considering.

King takes his Seat, whispers Louell, who goes to the Cardinall.

Car. Heauen forgiue me,

Euer God blesse your Highnesse

King. Good my Lord,

You are full of Heauenly stuffe, and beare the Inuentory Of your best
Graces, in your minde; the which You were now running o're: you haue
scarse time To steale from Spirituall leysure, a briefe span To keepe
your earthly Audit, sure in that I deeme you an ill Husband, and am
glad

To haue you therein my Companion

Car. Sir,

For Holy Offices I haue a time; a time

To thinke vpon the part of businesse, which I beare i'th' State: and
Nature does require Her times of preseruation, which perforce I her
fraile sonne, among'st my Brethren mortall, Must giue my tendance to

King. You haue said well

Car. And euer may your Highnesse yoake together, (As I will lend you
cause) my doing well, With my well saying

King. 'Tis well said agen,

And 'tis a kinde of good deede to say well, And yet words are no deeds.
My Father lou'd you, He said he did, and with his deed did Crowne His
word vpon you. Since I had my Office, I haue kept you next my Heart,
haue not alone Imploy'd you where high Profits might come home, But
par'd my present Hauings, to bestow

My Bounties vpon you

Car. What should this meane?

Sur. The Lord increase this businesse

King. Haue I not made you

The prime man of the State? I pray you tell me, If what I now
pronounce, you haue found true: And if you may confesse it, say
withall

If you are bound to vs, or no. What say you?   Car. My Soueraigne, I
confesse your Royall graces Showr'd on me daily, haue bene more then
could My studied purposes requite, which went

Beyond all mans endeauors. My endeauors,

Haue euer come too short of my Desires,

Yet fill'd with my Abilities: Mine owne ends Haue beene mine so, that
euermore they pointed To'th' good of your most Sacred Person, and The
profit of the State. For your great Graces Heap'd vpon me (poore
Vndeseruer) I

Can nothing render but Allegiant thankes, My Prayres to heauen for you;
my Loyaltie Which euer ha's, and euer shall be growing, Till death
(that Winter) kill it

King. Fairely answer'd:

A Loyall, and obedient Subiect is

Therein illustrated, the Honor of it

Does pay the Act of it, as i'th' contrary The fowlenesse is the
punishment. I presume, That as my hand ha's open'd Bounty to you, My
heart drop'd Loue, my powre rain'd Honor, more On you, then any: So
your Hand, and Heart, Your Braine, and euery Function of your power,
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty, As 'twer in Loues
particular, be more

To me your Friend, then any

Car. I do professe,

That for your Highnesse good, I euer labour'd More then mine owne: that
am, haue, and will be (Though all the world should cracke their duty to
you, And throw it from their Soule, though perils did Abound, as thicke
as thought could make 'em, and Appeare in formes more horrid) yet my
Duty, As doth a Rocke against the chiding Flood, Should the approach of
this wilde Riuer breake, And stand vnshaken yours

King. 'Tis Nobly spoken:

Take notice Lords, he ha's a Loyall brest, For you haue seene him
open't. Read o're this, And after this, and then to Breakfast with What
appetite you haue.

Exit King, frowning vpon the Cardinall, the Nobles throng after him

smiling, and whispering.

Car. What should this meane?

What sodaine Anger's this? How haue I reap'd it? He parted Frowning
from me, as if Ruine

Leap'd from his Eyes. So lookes the chafed Lyon Vpon the daring
Huntsman that has gall'd him: Then makes him nothing. I must reade this
paper: I feare the Story of his Anger. 'Tis so:

This paper ha's vndone me: 'Tis th' Accompt Of all that world of Wealth
I haue drawne together For mine owne ends, (Indeed to gaine the
Popedome, And fee my Friends in Rome.) O Negligence! Fit for a Foole to
fall by: What crosse Diuell Made me put this maine Secret in the Packet
I sent the King? Is there no way to cure this? No new deuice to beate
this from his Braines? I know 'twill stirre him strongly; yet I know A
way, if it take right, in spight of Fortune Will bring me off againe.
What's this? To th' Pope? The Letter (as I liue) with all the Businesse
I writ too's Holinesse. Nay then, farewell: I haue touch'd the highest
point of all my Greatnesse, And from that full Meridian of my Glory,

I haste now to my Setting. I shall fall

Like a bright exhalation in the Euening,

And no man see me more.

Enter to Woolsey, the Dukes of Norfolke and Suffolke, the Earle of
Surrey,

and the Lord Chamberlaine.

Nor. Heare the Kings pleasure Cardinall, Who commands you

To render vp the Great Seale presently

Into our hands, and to Confine your selfe To Asher-house, my Lord of
Winchesters,

Till you heare further from his Highnesse

Car. Stay:

Where's your Commission? Lords, words cannot carrie Authority so
weighty

Suf. Who dare crosse 'em,

Bearing the Kings will from his mouth expressely?   Car. Till I finde
more then will, or words to do it, (I meane your malice) know,
Officious Lords, I dare, and must deny it. Now I feele

Of what course Mettle ye are molded, Enuy, How eagerly ye follow my
Disgraces

As if it fed ye, and how sleeke and wanton Ye appeare in euery thing
may bring my ruine? Follow your enuious courses, men of Malice; You
haue Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt In time will finde their
fit Rewards. That Seale You aske with such a Violence, the King

(Mine, and your Master) with his owne hand, gaue me: Bad me enioy it,
with the Place, and Honors During my life; and to confirme his
Goodnesse, Ti'de it by Letters Patents. Now, who'll take it?   Sur. The
King that gaue it

Car. It must be himselfe then

Sur. Thou art a proud Traitor, Priest

Car. Proud Lord, thou lyest:

Within these fortie houres, Surrey durst better Haue burnt that Tongue,
then saide so

Sur. Thy Ambition

(Thou Scarlet sinne) robb'd this bewailing Land Of Noble Buckingham, my
Father-in-Law,

The heads of all thy Brother-Cardinals,

(With thee, and all thy best parts bound together) Weigh'd not a haire
of his. Plague of your policie, You sent me Deputie for Ireland,

Farre from his succour; from the King, from all That might haue mercie
on the fault, thou gau'st him: Whil'st your great Goodnesse, out of
holy pitty, Absolu'd him with an Axe

Wol. This, and all else

This talking Lord can lay vpon my credit, I answer, is most false. The
Duke by Law

Found his deserts. How innocent I was

From any priuate malice in his end,

His Noble Iurie, and foule Cause can witnesse. If I lou'd many words,
Lord, I should tell you, You haue as little Honestie, as Honor,

That in the way of Loyaltie, and Truth,

Toward the King, my euer Roiall Master,

Dare mate a sounder man then Surrie can be, And all that loue his
follies

Sur. By my Soule,

Your long Coat (Priest) protects you,

Thou should'st feele

My Sword i'th' life blood of thee else. My Lords, Can ye endure to
heare this Arrogance?

And from this Fellow? If we liue thus tamely, To be thus Iaded by a
peece of Scarlet,

Farewell Nobilitie: let his Grace go forward, And dare vs with his Cap,
like Larkes

Card. All Goodnesse

Is poyson to thy Stomacke

Sur. Yes, that goodnesse

Of gleaning all the Lands wealth into one, Into your owne hands
(Card'nall) by Extortion: The goodnesse of your intercepted Packets You
writ to'th Pope, against the King: your goodnesse Since you prouoke me,
shall be most notorious. My Lord of Norfolke, as you are truly Noble,
As you respect the common good, the State Of our despis'd Nobilitie,
our Issues,

(Whom if he liue, will scarse be Gentlemen) Produce the grand summe of
his sinnes, the Articles Collected from his life. Ile startle you

Worse then the Sacring Bell, when the browne Wench Lay kissing in your
Armes, Lord Cardinall

Car. How much me thinkes, I could despise this man, But that I am
bound in Charitie against it

Nor. Those Articles, my Lord, are in the Kings hand: But thus much,
they are foule ones

Wol. So much fairer

And spotlesse, shall mine Innocence arise, When the King knowes my
Truth

Sur. This cannot saue you:

I thanke my Memorie, I yet remember

Some of these Articles, and out they shall. Now, if you can blush, and
crie guiltie Cardinall, You'l shew a little Honestie

Wol. Speake on Sir,

I dare your worst Obiections: If I blush, It is to see a Nobleman want
manners

Sur. I had rather want those, then my head; Haue at you.

First, that without the Kings assent or knowledge, You wrought to be a
Legate, by which power You maim'd the Iurisdiction of all Bishops

Nor. Then, That in all you writ to Rome, or else To Forraigne
Princes, Ego & Rex meus

Was still inscrib'd: in which you brought the King To be your Seruant

Suf. Then, that without the knowledge

Either of King or Councell, when you went Ambassador to the Emperor,
you made bold

To carry into Flanders, the Great Seale

Sur. Item, You sent a large Commission To Gregory de Cassado, to
conclude

Without the Kings will, or the States allowance, A League betweene his
Highnesse, and Ferrara

Suf. That out of meere Ambition, you haue caus'd Your holy-Hat to be
stampt on the Kings Coine

Sur. Then, That you haue sent inumerable substance, (By what meanes
got, I leaue to your owne conscience) To furnish Rome, and to prepare
the wayes You haue for Dignities, to the meere vndooing Of all the
Kingdome. Many more there are, Which since they are of you, and
odious,

I will not taint my mouth with

Cham. O my Lord,

Presse not a falling man too farre: 'tis Vertue: His faults lye open to
the Lawes, let them (Not you) correct him. My heart weepes to see him
So little, of his great Selfe

Sur. I forgiue him

Suf. Lord Cardinall, the Kings further pleasure is, Because all
those things you haue done of late By your power Legatine within this
Kingdome, Fall into 'th' compasse of a Premunire;

That therefore such a Writ be sued against you, To forfeit all your
Goods, Lands, Tenements, Castles, and whatsoeuer, and to be

Out of the Kings protection. This is my Charge

Nor. And so wee'l leaue you to your Meditations How to liue better.
For your stubborne answer About the giuing backe the Great Seale to vs,
The King shall know it, and (no doubt) shal thanke you. So fare you
well, my little good Lord Cardinall.

Exeunt. all but Wolsey.

Wol. So farewell, to the little good you beare me. Farewell? A long
farewell to all my Greatnesse. This is the state of Man; to day he puts
forth The tender Leaues of hopes, to morrow Blossomes, And beares his
blushing Honors thicke vpon him: The third day, comes a Frost; a
killing Frost, And when he thinkes, good easie man, full surely His
Greatnesse is a ripening, nippes his roote, And then he fals as I do. I
haue ventur'd Like little wanton Boyes that swim on bladders: This many
Summers in a Sea of Glory,

But farre beyond my depth: my high-blowne Pride At length broke vnder
me, and now ha's left me Weary, and old with Seruice, to the mercy Of a
rude streame, that must for euer hide me. Vaine pompe, and glory of
this World, I hate ye, I feele my heart new open'd. Oh how wretched Is
that poore man, that hangs on Princes fauours? There is betwixt that
smile we would aspire too, That sweet Aspect of Princes, and their
ruine, More pangs, and feares then warres, or women haue; And when he
falles, he falles like Lucifer, Neuer to hope againe.

Enter Cromwell, standing amazed.

Why how now Cromwell?

Crom. I haue no power to speake Sir

Car. What, amaz'd

At my misfortunes? Can thy Spirit wonder

A great man should decline. Nay, and you weep I am falne indeed

Crom. How does your Grace

Card. Why well:

Neuer so truly happy, my good Cromwell,

I know my selfe now, and I feele within me, A peace aboue all earthly
Dignities,

A still, and quiet Conscience. The King ha's cur'd me, I humbly thanke
his Grace: and from these shoulders These ruin'd Pillers, out of pitty,
taken A loade, would sinke a Nauy, (too much Honor.)

O 'tis a burden Cromwel, 'tis a burden

Too heauy for a man, that hopes for Heauen

Crom. I am glad your Grace,

Ha's made that right vse of it

Card. I hope I haue:

I am able now (me thinkes)

(Out of a Fortitude of Soule, I feele)

To endure more Miseries, and greater farre Then my Weake-hearted
Enemies, dare offer. What Newes abroad?

Crom. The heauiest, and the worst,

Is your displeasure with the King

Card. God blesse him

Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas Moore is chosen Lord Chancellor,
in your place

Card. That's somewhat sodain.

But he's a Learned man. May he continue

Long in his Highnesse fauour, and do Iustice For Truths-sake, and his
Conscience; that his bones, When he ha's run his course, and sleepes in
Blessings, May haue a Tombe of Orphants teares wept on him. What more?

Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome; Install'd Lord
Arch-byshop of Canterbury

Card. That's Newes indeed

Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne,

Whom the King hath in secrecie long married, This day was view'd in
open, as his Queene, Going to Chappell: and the voyce is now

Onely about her Corronation

Card. There was the waight that pull'd me downe. O Cromwell,

The King ha's gone beyond me: All my Glories In that one woman, I haue
lost for euer.

No Sun, shall euer vsher forth mine Honors, Or gilde againe the Noble
Troopes that waighted Vpon my smiles. Go get thee from me Cromwel, I am
a poore falne man, vnworthy now

To be thy Lord, and Master. Seeke the King (That Sun, I pray may neuer
set) I haue told him, What, and how true thou art; he will aduance
thee: Some little memory of me, will stirre him (I know his Noble
Nature) not to let

Thy hopefull seruice perish too. Good Cromwell Neglect him not; make
vse now, and prouide For thine owne future safety

Crom. O my Lord,

Must I then leaue you? Must I needes forgo So good, so Noble, and so
true a Master?

Beare witnesse, all that haue not hearts of Iron, With what a sorrow
Cromwel leaues his Lord. The King shall haue my seruice; but my prayres
For euer, and for euer shall be yours

Card. Cromwel, I did not thinke to shed a teare In all my Miseries:
But thou hast forc'd me (Out of thy honest truth) to play the Woman.
Let's dry our eyes: And thus farre heare me Cromwel, And when I am
forgotten, as I shall be,

And sleepe in dull cold Marble, where no mention Of me, more must be
heard of: Say I taught thee; Say Wolsey, that once trod the wayes of
Glory, And sounded all the Depths, and Shoales of Honor, Found thee a
way (out of his wracke) to rise in: A sure, and safe one, though thy
Master mist it. Marke but my Fall, and that that Ruin'd me: Cromwel, I
charge thee, fling away Ambition, By that sinne fell the Angels: how
can man then (The Image of his Maker) hope to win by it? Loue thy selfe
last, cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more
then Honesty.

Still in thy right hand, carry gentle Peace To silence enuious Tongues.
Be iust, and feare not; Let all the ends thou aym'st at, be thy
Countries, Thy Gods, and Truths. Then if thou fall'st (O Cromwell) Thou
fall'st a blessed Martyr.

Serue the King: And prythee leade me in:

There take an Inuentory of all I haue,

To the last peny, 'tis the Kings. My Robe, And my Integrity to Heauen,
is all,

I dare now call mine owne. O Cromwel, Cromwel, Had I but seru'd my God,
with halfe the Zeale I seru'd my King: he would not in mine Age Haue
left me naked to mine Enemies

Crom. Good Sir, haue patience

Card. So I haue. Farewell

The Hopes of Court, my Hopes in Heauen do dwell.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another.

1 Y'are well met once againe

2 So are you

1 You come to take your stand heere, and behold The Lady Anne, passe
from her Corronation

2 'Tis all my businesse. At our last encounter, The Duke of
Buckingham came from his Triall

1 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd sorrow, This generall ioy

2 'Tis well: The Citizens

I am sure haue shewne at full their Royall minds, As let 'em haue their
rights, they are euer forward In Celebration of this day with Shewes,

Pageants, and Sights of Honor

1 Neuer greater,

Nor Ile assure you better taken Sir

2 May I be bold to aske what that containes, That Paper in your
hand

1 Yes, 'tis the List

Of those that claime their Offices this day, By custome of the
Coronation.

The Duke of Suffolke is the first, and claimes To be high Steward; Next
the Duke of Norfolke, He to be Earle Marshall: you may reade the rest

1 I thanke you Sir: Had I not known those customs, I should haue
beene beholding to your Paper: But I beseech you, what's become of
Katherine The Princesse Dowager? How goes her businesse?   1 That I can
tell you too. The Archbishop Of Canterbury, accompanied with other

Learned, and Reuerend Fathers of his Order, Held a late Court at
Dunstable; sixe miles off From Ampthill, where the Princesse lay, to
which She was often cyted by them, but appear'd not: And to be short,
for not Appearance, and

The Kings late Scruple, by the maine assent Of all these Learned men,
she was diuorc'd, And the late Marriage made of none effect: Since
which, she was remou'd to Kymmalton, Where she remaines now sicke

2 Alas good Lady.

The Trumpets sound: Stand close,

The Queene is comming.

Ho-boyes. The Order of the Coronation. 1 A liuely Flourish of Trumpets.
2

Then, two Iudges. 3 Lord Chancellor, with Purse and Mace before him. 4

Quirristers singing. Musicke. 5 Maior of London, bearing the Mace.
Then

Garter, in his Coate of Armes, and on his head he wore a Gilt Copper

Crowne. 6 Marquesse Dorset, bearing a Scepter of Gold, on his head, a

Demy Coronall of Gold. With him, the Earle of Surrey, bearing the Rod
of

Siluer with the Doue, Crowned with an Earles Coronet. Collars of Esses.
7

Duke of Suffolke, in his Robe of Estate, his Coronet on his head,
bearing

a long white Wand, as High Steward. With him, the Duke of Norfolke,
with

the Rod of Marshalship, a Coronet on his head. Collars of Esses. 8 A

Canopy, borne by foure of the Cinque-Ports, vnder it the Queene in her

Robe, in her haire, richly adorned with Pearle, Crowned. On each side
her,

the Bishops of London, and Winchester. 9 The Olde Dutchesse of
Norfolke,

in a Coronall of Gold, wrought with Flowers bearing the Queenes Traine.
10

Certaine Ladies or Countesses, with plaine Circlets of Gold, without

Flowers. Exeunt, first passing ouer the Stage in Order and State, and

then, A great Flourish of Trumpets.

2 A Royall Traine beleeue me: These I know: Who's that that beares
the Scepter?

1 Marquesse Dorset,

And that the Earle of Surrey, with the Rod

2 A bold braue Gentleman. That should bee The Duke of Suffolke

1 'Tis the same: high Steward

2 And that my Lord of Norfolke?

1 Yes

2 Heauen blesse thee,

Thou hast the sweetest face I euer look'd on. Sir, as I haue a Soule,
she is an Angell; Our King ha's all the Indies in his Armes, And more,
and richer, when he straines that Lady, I cannot blame his Conscience

1 They that beare

The Cloath of Honour ouer her, are foure Barons Of the Cinque-Ports

2 Those men are happy,

And so are all, are neere her.

I take it, she that carries vp the Traine, Is that old Noble Lady,
Dutchesse of Norfolke

1 It is, and all the rest are Countesses

2 Their Coronets say so. These are Starres indeed, And sometimes
falling ones

2 No more of that.

Enter a third Gentleman.

1 God saue you Sir. Where haue you bin broiling?   3 Among the crowd
i'th' Abbey, where a finger Could not be wedg'd in more: I am stifled
With the meere ranknesse of their ioy

2 You saw the Ceremony?

3 That I did

1 How was it?

3 Well worth the seeing

2 Good Sir, speake it to vs?

3 As well as I am able. The rich streame Of Lords, and Ladies, hauing
brought the Queene To a prepar'd place in the Quire, fell off A
distance from her; while her Grace sate downe To rest a while, some
halfe an houre, or so, In a rich Chaire of State, opposing freely The
Beauty of her Person to the People.

Beleeue me Sir, she is the goodliest Woman That euer lay by man: which
when the people Had the full view of, such a noyse arose, As the
shrowdes make at Sea, in a stiffe Tempest, As lowd, and to as many
Tunes. Hats, Cloakes, (Doublets, I thinke) flew vp, and had their Faces
Bin loose, this day they had beene lost. Such ioy I neuer saw before.
Great belly'd women,

That had not halfe a weeke to go, like Rammes In the old time of Warre,
would shake the prease And make 'em reele before 'em. No man liuing
Could say this is my wife there, all were wouen So strangely in one
peece

2 But what follow'd?

3 At length, her Grace rose, and with modest paces Came to the Altar,
where she kneel'd, and Saint-like Cast her faire eyes to Heauen, and
pray'd deuoutly. Then rose againe, and bow'd her to the people: When by
the Arch-byshop of Canterbury,

She had all the Royall makings of a Queene; As holy Oyle, Edward
Confessors Crowne,

The Rod, and Bird of Peace, and all such Emblemes Laid Nobly on her:
which perform'd, the Quire With all the choysest Musicke of the
Kingdome, Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,

And with the same full State pac'd backe againe To Yorke-Place, where
the Feast is held

1 Sir,

You must no more call it Yorke-place, that's past: For since the
Cardinall fell, that Titles lost, 'Tis now the Kings, and call'd
White-Hall

3 I know it:

But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name Is fresh about me

2 What two Reuerend Byshops

Were those that went on each side of the Queene?   3 Stokeley and
Gardiner, the one of Winchester, Newly preferr'd from the Kings
Secretary: The other London

2 He of Winchester

Is held no great good louer of the Archbishops, The vertuous Cranmer

3 All the Land knowes that:

How euer, yet there is no great breach, when it comes Cranmer will
finde a Friend will not shrinke from him

2 Who may that be, I pray you

3 Thomas Cromwell,

A man in much esteeme with th' King, and truly A worthy Friend. The
King ha's made him

Master o'th' Iewell House,

And one already of the Priuy Councell

2 He will deserue more

3 Yes without all doubt.

Come Gentlemen, ye shall go my way,

Which is to'th Court, and there ye shall be my Guests: Something I can
command. As I walke thither, Ile tell ye more

Both. You may command vs Sir.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Katherine Dowager, sicke, lead betweene Griffith, her Gentleman

Vsher, and Patience her Woman.

Grif. How do's your Grace?

Kath. O Griffith, sicke to death:

My Legges like loaden Branches bow to'th' Earth, Willing to leaue their
burthen: Reach a Chaire, So now (me thinkes) I feele a little ease.
Did'st thou not tell me Griffith, as thou lead'st mee, That the great
Childe of Honor, Cardinall Wolsey Was dead?

Grif. Yes Madam: but I thinke your Grace Out of the paine you
suffer'd, gaue no eare too't

Kath. Pre'thee good Griffith, tell me how he dy'de. If well, he
stept before me happily

For my example

Grif. Well, the voyce goes Madam,

For after the stout Earle Northumberland

Arrested him at Yorke, and brought him forward As a man sorely tainted,
to his Answer,

He fell sicke sodainly, and grew so ill

He could not sit his Mule

Kath. Alas poore man

Grif. At last, with easie Rodes, he came to Leicester, Lodg'd in the
Abbey; where the reuerend Abbot With all his Couent, honourably
receiu'd him; To whom he gaue these words. O Father Abbot, An old man,
broken with the stormes of State, Is come to lay his weary bones among
ye:

Giue him a little earth for Charity.

So went to bed; where eagerly his sicknesse Pursu'd him still, and
three nights after this, About the houre of eight, which he himselfe
Foretold should be his last, full of Repentance, Continuall
Meditations, Teares, and Sorrowes, He gaue his Honors to the world
agen,

His blessed part to Heauen, and slept in peace

Kath. So may he rest,

His Faults lye gently on him:

Yet thus farre Griffith, giue me leaue to speake him, And yet with
Charity. He was a man

Of an vnbounded stomacke, euer ranking

Himselfe with Princes. One that by suggestion Ty'de all the Kingdome.
Symonie, was faire play, His owne Opinion was his Law. I'th' presence
He would say vntruths, and be euer double Both in his words, and
meaning. He was neuer (But where he meant to Ruine) pittifull.

His Promises, were as he then was, Mighty: But his performance, as he
is now, Nothing: Of his owne body he was ill, and gaue

The Clergy ill example

Grif. Noble Madam:

Mens euill manners, liue in Brasse, their Vertues We write in Water.
May it please your Highnesse To heare me speake his good now?

Kath. Yes good Griffith,

I were malicious else

Grif. This Cardinall,

Though from an humble Stocke, vndoubtedly Was fashion'd to much Honor.
From his Cradle He was a Scholler, and a ripe, and good one: Exceeding
wise, faire spoken, and perswading: Lofty, and sowre to them that lou'd
him not: But, to those men that sought him, sweet as Summer. And though
he were vnsatisfied in getting, (Which was a sinne) yet in bestowing,
Madam, He was most Princely: Euer witnesse for him Those twinnes of
Learning, that he rais'd in you, Ipswich and Oxford: one of which, fell
with him, Vnwilling to out-liue the good that did it. The other (though
vnfinish'd) yet so Famous, So excellent in Art, and still so rising,
That Christendome shall euer speake his Vertue. His Ouerthrow, heap'd
Happinesse vpon him: For then, and not till then, he felt himselfe, And
found the Blessednesse of being little. And to adde greater Honors to
his Age

Then man could giue him; he dy'de, fearing God

Kath. After my death, I wish no other Herald, No other speaker of my
liuing Actions,

To keepe mine Honor, from Corruption,

But such an honest Chronicler as Griffith. Whom I most hated Liuing,
thou hast made mee With thy Religious Truth, and Modestie,

(Now in his Ashes) Honor: Peace be with him. Patience, be neere me
still, and set me lower, I haue not long to trouble thee. Good
Griffith, Cause the Musitians play me that sad note I nam'd my Knell;
whil'st I sit meditating On that Coelestiall Harmony I go too.

Sad and solemne Musicke.

Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet, For feare we
wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.

The Vision. Enter solemnely tripping one after another, sixe
Personages,

clad in white Robes, wearing on their heades Garlands of Bayes, and
golden

Vizards on their faces, Branches of Bayes or Palme in their hands.
They

first Conge vnto her, then Dance: and at certaine Changes, the first
two

hold a spare Garland ouer her Head, at which the other foure make
reuerend

Curtsies. Then the two that held the Garland, deliuer the same to the
other

next two, who obserue the same order in their Changes, and holding the

Garland ouer her head. Which done, they deliuer the same Garland to
the

last two: who likewise obserue the same Order. At which (as it were by

inspiration) she makes (in her sleepe) signes of reioycing, and holdeth
vp

her hands to heauen. And so, in their Dancing vanish, carrying the
Garland

with them. The Musicke continues.

Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone? And leaue me
heere in wretchednesse, behinde ye?   Grif. Madam, we are heere

Kath. It is not you I call for,

Saw ye none enter since I slept?

Grif. None Madam

Kath. No? Saw you not euen now a blessed Troope Inuite me to a
Banquet, whose bright faces Cast thousand beames vpon me, like the Sun?
They promis'd me eternall Happinesse,

And brought me Garlands (Griffith) which I feele I am not worthy yet to
weare: I shall assuredly

Grif. I am most ioyfull Madam, such good dreames Possesse your
Fancy

Kath. Bid the Musicke leaue,

They are harsh and heauy to me.

Musicke ceases.

Pati. Do you note

How much her Grace is alter'd on the sodaine? How long her face is
drawne? How pale she lookes, And of an earthy cold? Marke her eyes?

Grif. She is going Wench. Pray, pray

Pati. Heauen comfort her.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes. And't like your Grace -

Kath. You are a sawcy Fellow,

Deserue we no more Reuerence?

Grif. You are too blame,

Knowing she will not loose her wonted Greatnesse To vse so rude
behauiour. Go too, kneele

Mes. I humbly do entreat your Highnesse pardon, My hast made me
vnmannerly. There is staying A Gentleman sent from the King, to see
you

Kath. Admit him entrance Griffith. But this Fellow Let me ne're see
againe.

Exit Messeng.

Enter Lord Capuchius.

If my sight faile not,

You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor, My Royall Nephew, and
your name Capuchius

Cap. Madam the same. Your Seruant

Kath. O my Lord,

The Times and Titles now are alter'd strangely With me, since first you
knew me.

But I pray you,

What is your pleasure with me?

Cap. Noble Lady,

First mine owne seruice to your Grace, the next The Kings request, that
I would visit you, Who greeues much for your weaknesse, and by me Sends
you his Princely Commendations,

And heartily entreats you take good comfort

Kath. O my good Lord, that comfort comes too late, 'Tis like a
Pardon after Execution;

That gentle Physicke giuen in time, had cur'd me: But now I am past all
Comforts heere, but Prayers. How does his Highnesse?

Cap. Madam, in good health

Kath. So may he euer do, and euer flourish, When I shall dwell with
Wormes, and my poore name Banish'd the Kingdome. Patience, is that
Letter I caus'd you write, yet sent away?

Pat. No Madam

Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliuer This to my Lord the
King

Cap. Most willing Madam

Kath. In which I haue commended to his goodnesse The Modell of our
chaste loues: his yong daughter, The dewes of Heauen fall thicke in
Blessings on her, Beseeching him to giue her vertuous breeding. She is
yong, and of a Noble modest Nature, I hope she will deserue well; and a
little To loue her for her Mothers sake, that lou'd him, Heauen knowes
how deerely.

My next poore Petition,

Is, that his Noble Grace would haue some pittie Vpon my wretched women,
that so long

Haue follow'd both my Fortunes, faithfully, Of which there is not one,
I dare auow

(And now I should not lye) but will deserue For Vertue, and true
Beautie of the Soule, For honestie, and decent Carriage

A right good Husband (let him be a Noble) And sure those men are happy
that shall haue 'em. The last is for my men, they are the poorest, (But
pouerty could neuer draw 'em from me) That they may haue their wages,
duly paid 'em, And something ouer to remember me by.

If Heauen had pleas'd to haue giuen me longer life And able meanes, we
had not parted thus.

These are the whole Contents, and good my Lord, By that you loue the
deerest in this world, As you wish Christian peace to soules departed,
Stand these poore peoples Friend, and vrge the King To do me this last
right

Cap. By Heauen I will,

Or let me loose the fashion of a man

Kath. I thanke you honest Lord. Remember me In all humilitie vnto
his Highnesse:

Say his long trouble now is passing

Out of this world. Tell him in death I blest him (For so I will) mine
eyes grow dimme. Farewell My Lord. Griffith farewell. Nay Patience, You
must not leaue me yet. I must to bed, Call in more women. When I am
dead, good Wench, Let me be vs'd with Honor; strew me ouer

With Maiden Flowers, that all the world may know I was a chaste Wife,
to my Graue: Embalme me, Then lay me forth (although vnqueen'd) yet
like A Queene, and Daughter to a King enterre me. I can no more.

Exeunt. leading Katherine.



Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a Torch before him,
met

by Sir Thomas Louell.

Gard. It's one a clocke Boy, is't not

Boy. It hath strooke

Gard. These should be houres for necessities, Not for delights:
Times to repayre our Nature With comforting repose, and not for vs

To waste these times. Good houre of night Sir Thomas: Whether so late?

Lou. Came you from the King, my Lord?

Gar. I did Sir Thomas, and left him at Primero With the Duke of
Suffolke

Lou. I must to him too

Before he go to bed. Ile take my leaue

Gard. Not yet Sir Thomas Louell: what's the matter? It seemes you
are in hast: and if there be No great offence belongs too't, giue your
Friend Some touch of your late businesse: Affaires that walke (As they
say Spirits do) at midnight, haue In them a wilder Nature, then the
businesse That seekes dispatch by day

Lou. My Lord, I loue you;

And durst commend a secret to your eare

Much waightier then this worke. The Queens in Labor They say in great
Extremity, and fear'd

Shee'l with the Labour, end

Gard. The fruite she goes with

I pray for heartily, that it may finde

Good time, and liue: but for the Stocke Sir Thomas, I wish it grubb'd
vp now

Lou. Me thinkes I could

Cry the Amen, and yet my Conscience sayes Shee's a good Creature, and
sweet-Ladie do's Deserue our better wishes

Gard. But Sir, Sir,

Heare me Sir Thomas, y'are a Gentleman

Of mine owne way. I know you Wise, Religious, And let me tell you, it
will ne're be well, 'Twill not Sir Thomas Louell, tak't of me, Till
Cranmer, Cromwel, her two hands, and shee Sleepe in their Graues

Louell. Now Sir, you speake of two

The most remark'd i'th' Kingdome: as for Cromwell, Beside that of the
Iewell-House, is made Master O'th' Rolles, and the Kings Secretary.
Further Sir, Stands in the gap and Trade of moe Preferments, With which
the Lime will loade him. Th' Archbyshop Is the Kings hand, and tongue,
and who dare speak One syllable against him?

Gard. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,

There are that Dare, and I my selfe haue ventur'd To speake my minde of
him: and indeed this day, Sir (I may tell it you) I thinke I haue

Incenst the Lords o'th' Councell, that he is (For so I know he is, they
know he is)

A most Arch-Heretique, a Pestilence

That does infect the Land: with which, they moued Haue broken with the
King, who hath so farre Giuen eare to our Complaint, of his great
Grace, And Princely Care, fore-seeing those fell Mischiefes, Our
Reasons layd before him, hath commanded To morrow Morning to the
Councell Boord

He be conuented. He's a ranke weed Sir Thomas, And we must root him
out. From your Affaires I hinder you too long: Good night, Sir Thomas.

Exit Gardiner and Page.

Lou. Many good nights, my Lord, I rest your seruant. Enter King and
Suffolke.

King. Charles, I will play no more to night, My mindes not on't, you
are too hard for me

Suff. Sir, I did neuer win of you before

King. But little Charles,

Nor shall not when my Fancies on my play. Now Louel, from the Queene
what is the Newes

Lou. I could not personally deliuer to her What you commanded me,
but by her woman,

I sent your Message, who return'd her thankes In the great'st
humblenesse, and desir'd your Highnesse Most heartily to pray for her

King. What say'st thou? Ha?

To pray for her? What is she crying out?

Lou. So said her woman, and that her suffrance made Almost each pang,
a death

King. Alas good Lady

Suf. God safely quit her of her Burthen, and With gentle Trauaile,
to the gladding of

Your Highnesse with an Heire

King. 'Tis midnight Charles,

Prythee to bed, and in thy Prayres remember Th' estate of my poore
Queene. Leaue me alone, For I must thinke of that, which company

Would not be friendly too

Suf. I wish your Highnesse

A quiet night, and my good Mistris will

Remember in my Prayers

King. Charles good night.

Exit Suffolke.

Well Sir, what followes?

Enter Sir Anthony Denny.

Den. Sir, I haue brought my Lord the Arch-byshop, As you commanded
me

King. Ha? Canterbury?

Den. I my good Lord

King. 'Tis true: where is he Denny?

Den. He attends your Highnesse pleasure

King. Bring him to Vs

Lou. This is about that, which the Byshop spake, I am happily come
hither.

Enter Cranmer and Denny.

King. Auoyd the Gallery.

Louel seemes to stay.

Ha? I haue said. Be gone.

What?

Exeunt. Louell and Denny.

Cran. I am fearefull: Wherefore frownes he thus? 'Tis his Aspect of
Terror. All's not well

King. How now my Lord?

You do desire to know wherefore

I sent for you

Cran. It is my dutie

T' attend your Highnesse pleasure

King. Pray you arise

My good and gracious Lord of Canterburie: Come, you and I must walke a
turne together: I haue Newes to tell you.

Come, come, giue me your hand.

Ah my good Lord, I greeue at what I speake, And am right sorrie to
repeat what followes. I haue, and most vnwillingly of late

Heard many greeuous, I do say my Lord

Greeuous complaints of you; which being consider'd, Haue mou'd Vs, and
our Councell, that you shall This Morning come before vs, where I know
You cannot with such freedome purge your selfe, But that till further
Triall, in those Charges Which will require your Answer, you must take
Your patience to you, and be well contented To make your house our
Towre: you, a Brother of vs It fits we thus proceed, or else no
witnesse Would come against you

Cran. I humbly thanke your Highnesse,

And am right glad to catch this good occasion Most throughly to be
winnowed, where my Chaffe And Corne shall flye asunder. For I know

There's none stands vnder more calumnious tongues, Then I my selfe,
poore man

King. Stand vp, good Canterbury,

Thy Truth, and thy Integrity is rooted

In vs thy Friend. Giue me thy hand, stand vp, Prythee let's walke. Now
by my Holydame,

What manner of man are you? My Lord, I look'd You would haue giuen me
your Petition, that I should haue tane some paines, to bring together
Your selfe, and your Accusers, and to haue heard you Without indurance
further

Cran. Most dread Liege,

The good I stand on, is my Truth and Honestie: If they shall faile, I
with mine Enemies

Will triumph o're my person, which I waigh not, Being of those Vertues
vacant. I feare nothing What can be said against me

King. Know you not

How your state stands i'th' world, with the whole world? Your Enemies
are many, and not small; their practises Must beare the same
proportion, and not euer The Iustice and the Truth o'th' question
carries The dew o'th' Verdict with it; at what ease Might corrupt
mindes procure, Knaues as corrupt To sweare against you: Such things
haue bene done. You are Potently oppos'd, and with a Malice Of as great
Size. Weene you of better lucke, I meane in periur'd Witnesse, then
your Master, Whose Minister you are, whiles heere he liu'd Vpon this
naughty Earth? Go too, go too,

You take a Precepit for no leape of danger, And woe your owne
destruction

Cran. God, and your Maiesty

Protect mine innocence, or I fall into

The trap is laid for me

King. Be of good cheere,

They shall no more preuaile, then we giue way too: Keepe comfort to
you, and this Morning see You do appeare before them. If they shall
chance In charging you with matters, to commit you: The best
perswasions to the contrary

Faile not to vse, and with what vehemencie Th' occasion shall instruct
you. If intreaties Will render you no remedy, this Ring

Deliuer them, and your Appeale to vs

There make before them. Looke, the goodman weeps: He's honest on mine
Honor. Gods blest Mother, I sweare he is true-hearted, and a soule

None better in my Kingdome. Get you gone, And do as I haue bid you.

Exit Cranmer.

He ha's strangled his Language in his teares. Enter Olde Lady.

Gent. within. Come backe: what meane you?   Lady. Ile not come backe,
the tydings that I bring Will make my boldnesse, manners. Now good
Angels Fly o're thy Royall head, and shade thy person Vnder their
blessed wings

King. Now by thy lookes

I gesse thy Message. Is the Queene deliuer'd? Say I, and of a boy

Lady. I, I my Liege,

And of a louely Boy: the God of heauen

Both now, and euer blesse her: 'Tis a Gyrle Promises Boyes heereafter.
Sir, your Queen Desires your Visitation, and to be

Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you, As Cherry, is to
Cherry

King. Louell

Lou. Sir

King. Giue her an hundred Markes.

Ile to the Queene.

Exit King.

Lady. An hundred Markes? By this light, Ile ha more. An ordinary
Groome is for such payment.

I will haue more, or scold it out of him. Said I for this, the Gyrle
was like to him? Ile Haue more, or else vnsay't: and now, while 'tis
hot, Ile put it to the issue.

Exit Ladie.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Cranmer, Archbyshop of Canterbury.

Cran. I hope I am not too late, and yet the Gentleman That was sent
to me from the Councell, pray'd me To make great hast. All fast? What
meanes this? Hoa? Who waites there? Sure you know me?

Enter Keeper.

Keep. Yes, my Lord:

But yet I cannot helpe you

Cran. Why?

Keep. Your Grace must waight till you be call'd for. Enter Doctor
Buts.

Cran. So

Buts. This is a Peere of Malice: I am glad I came this way so
happily. The King

Shall vnderstand it presently.

Exit Buts

Cran. 'Tis Buts.

The Kings Physitian, as he past along

How earnestly he cast his eyes vpon me:

Pray heauen he found not my disgrace: for certaine This is of purpose
laid by some that hate me, (God turne their hearts, I neuer sought
their malice) To quench mine Honor; they would shame to make me Wait
else at doore: a fellow Councellor

'Mong Boyes, Groomes, and Lackeyes.

But their pleasures

Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. Enter the King, and
Buts, at a Windowe aboue.

Buts. Ile shew your Grace the strangest sight

King. What's that Buts?

Butts. I thinke your Highnesse saw this many a day

Kin. Body a me: where is it?

Butts. There my Lord:

The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury, Who holds his State at
dore 'mongst Purseuants, Pages, and Foot-boyes

Kin. Ha? 'Tis he indeed.

Is this the Honour they doe one another?

'Tis well there's one aboue 'em yet; I had thought They had parted so
much honesty among 'em, At least good manners; as not thus to suffer A
man of his Place, and so neere our fauour To dance attendance on their
Lordships pleasures, And at the dore too, like a Post with Packets: By
holy Mary (Butts) there's knauery;

Let 'em alone, and draw the Curtaine close: We shall heare more anon.

A Councell Table brought in with Chayres and Stooles, and placed vnder

the State. Enter Lord Chancellour, places himselfe at the vpper end of
the

Table, on the left hand: A Seate being left void aboue him, as for
Canterburies Seate. Duke of Suffolke, Duke of Norfolke, Surrey, Lord

Chamberlaine, Gardiner, seat themselues in Order on each side. Cromwell
at

lower end, as Secretary.

Chan. Speake to the businesse, M[aster]. Secretary; Why are we met in
Councell?

Crom. Please your Honours,

The chiefe cause concernes his Grace of Canterbury

Gard. Ha's he had knowledge of it?

Crom. Yes

Norf. Who waits there?

Keep. Without my Noble Lords?

Gard. Yes

Keep. My Lord Archbishop:

And ha's done halfe an houre to know your pleasures

Chan. Let him come in

Keep. Your Grace may enter now.

Cranmer approches the Councell Table.

Chan. My good Lord Archbishop, I'm very sorry To sit heere at this
present, and behold

That Chayre stand empty: But we all are men In our owne natures fraile,
and capable

Of our flesh, few are Angels; out of which frailty And want of
wisedome, you that best should teach vs, Haue misdemean'd your selfe,
and not a little: Toward the King first, then his Lawes, in filling The
whole Realme, by your teaching & your Chaplaines (For so we are
inform'd) with new opinions, Diuers and dangerous; which are Heresies;
And not reform'd, may proue pernicious

Gard. Which Reformation must be sodaine too My Noble Lords; for
those that tame wild Horses, Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em
gentle; But stop their mouthes with stubborn Bits & spurre 'em, Till
they obey the mannage. If we suffer

Out of our easinesse and childish pitty

To one mans Honour, this contagious sicknesse; Farewell all Physicke:
and what followes then? Commotions, vprores, with a generall Taint Of
the whole State; as of late dayes our neighbours, The vpper Germany can
deerely witnesse:

Yet freshly pittied in our memories

Cran. My good Lords; Hitherto, in all the Progresse Both of my Life
and Office, I haue labour'd, And with no little study, that my teaching
And the strong course of my Authority,

Might goe one way, and safely; and the end Was euer to doe well: nor is
there liuing, (I speake it with a single heart, my Lords) A man that
more detests, more stirres against, Both in his priuate Conscience, and
his place, Defacers of a publique peace then I doe:

Pray Heauen the King may neuer find a heart With lesse Allegeance in
it. Men that make Enuy, and crooked malice, nourishment;

Dare bite the best. I doe beseech your, Lordships, That in this case of
Iustice, my Accusers, Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
And freely vrge against me

Suff. Nay, my Lord,

That cannot be; you are a Counsellor,

And by that vertue no man dare accuse you

Gard. My Lord, because we haue busines of more moment, We will be
short with you. 'Tis his Highnesse pleasure And our consent, for better
tryall of you, From hence you be committed to the Tower, Where being
but a priuate man againe,

You shall know many dare accuse you boldly, More then (I feare) you are
prouided for

Cran. Ah my good Lord of Winchester: I thanke you, You are alwayes
my good Friend, if your will passe, I shall both finde your Lordship,
Iudge and Iuror, You are so mercifull. I see your end,

'Tis my vndoing. Loue and meekenesse, Lord Become a Churchman, better
then Ambition: Win straying Soules with modesty againe,

Cast none away: That I shall cleere my selfe, Lay all the weight ye can
vpon my patience, I make as little doubt as you doe conscience, In
doing dayly wrongs. I could say more,

But reuerence to your calling, makes me modest

Gard. My Lord, my Lord, you are a Sectary, That's the plaine truth;
your painted glosse discouers To men that vnderstand you, words and
weaknesse

Crom. My Lord of Winchester, y'are a little, By your good fauour,
too sharpe; Men so Noble, How euer faulty, yet should finde respect For
what they haue beene: 'tis a cruelty, To load a falling man

Gard. Good M[aster]. Secretary,

I cry your Honour mercie; you may worst

Of all this Table say so

Crom. Why my Lord?

Gard. Doe not I know you for a Fauourer Of this new Sect? ye are not
sound

Crom. Not sound?

Gard. Not sound I say

Crom. Would you were halfe so honest:

Mens prayers then would seeke you, not their feares

Gard. I shall remember this bold Language

Crom. Doe.

Remember your bold life too

Cham. This is too much;

Forbeare for shame my Lords

Gard. I haue done

Crom. And I

Cham. Then thus for you my Lord, it stands agreed I take it, by all
voyces: That forthwith, You be conuaid to th' Tower a Prisoner;

There to remaine till the Kings further pleasure Be knowne vnto vs: are
you all agreed Lords

All. We are

Cran. Is there no other way of mercy,

But I must needs to th' Tower my Lords?

Gard. What other,

Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome: Let some o'th' Guard
be ready there.

Enter the Guard.

Cran. For me?

Must I goe like a Traytor thither?

Gard. Receiue him,

And see him safe i'th' Tower

Cran. Stay good my Lords,

I haue a little yet to say. Looke there my Lords, By vertue of that
Ring, I take my cause

Out of the gripes of cruell men, and giue it To a most Noble Iudge, the
King my Maister

Cham. This is the Kings Ring

Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit

Suff. 'Ts the right Ring, by Heau'n: I told ye all, When we first
put this dangerous stone a rowling, 'Twold fall vpon our selues

Norf. Doe you thinke my Lords

The King will suffer but the little finger Of this man to be vex'd?

Cham. Tis now too certaine;

How much more is his Life in value with him? Would I were fairely out
on't

Crom. My mind gaue me,

In seeking tales and Informations

Against this man, whose honesty the Diuell And his Disciples onely enuy
at,

Ye blew the fire that burnes ye: now haue at ye. Enter King frowning on
them, takes his Seate.

Gard. Dread Soueraigne,

How much are we bound to Heauen,

In dayly thankes, that gaue vs such a Prince; Not onely good and wise,
but most religious: One that in all obedience, makes the Church The
cheefe ayme of his Honour, and to strengthen That holy duty out of
deare respect,

His Royall selfe in Iudgement comes to heare The cause betwixt her, and
this great offender

Kin. You were euer good at sodaine Commendations, Bishop of
Winchester. But know I come not To heare such flattery now, and in my
presence They are too thin, and base to hide offences, To me you cannot
reach. You play the Spaniell, And thinke with wagging of your tongue to
win me: But whatsoere thou tak'st me for; I'm sure Thou hast a cruell
Nature and a bloody.

Good man sit downe: Now let me see the proudest Hee, that dares most,
but wag his finger at thee. By all that's holy, he had better starue,
Then but once thinke his place becomes thee not

Sur. May it please your Grace; -

Kin. No Sir, it doe's not please me,

I had thought, I had had men of some vnderstanding, And wisedome of my
Councell; but I finde none: Was it discretion Lords, to let this man,
This good man (few of you deserue that Title) This honest man, wait
like a lowsie Foot-boy At Chamber dore? and one, as great as you are?
Why, what a shame was this? Did my Commission Bid ye so farre forget
your selues? I gaue ye Power, as he was a Counsellour to try him, Not
as a Groome: There's some of ye, I see, More out of Malice then
Integrity,

Would trye him to the vtmost, had ye meane, Which ye shall neuer haue
while I liue

Chan. Thus farre

My most dread Soueraigne, may it like your Grace, To let my tongue
excuse all. What was purpos'd Concerning his Imprisonment, was rather

(If there be faith in men) meant for his Tryall, And faire purgation to
the world then malice, I'm sure in me

Kin. Well, well my Lords respect him,

Take him, and vse him well; hee's worthy of it. I will say thus much
for him, if a Prince May be beholding to a Subiect; I

Am for his loue and seruice, so to him.

Make me no more adoe, but all embrace him; Be friends for shame my
Lords: My Lord of Canterbury I haue a Suite which you must not deny
mee. That is, a faire young Maid that yet wants Baptisme, You must be
Godfather, and answere for her

Cran. The greatest Monarch now aliue may glory In such an honour:
how may I deserue it,

That am a poore and humble Subiect to you?   Kin. Come, come my Lord,
you'd spare your spoones; You shall haue two noble Partners with you:
the old Duchesse of Norfolke, and Lady Marquesse Dorset? will these
please you?

Once more my Lord of Winchester, I charge you Embrace, and loue this
man

Gard. With a true heart,

And Brother; loue I doe it

Cran. And let Heauen

Witnesse how deare, I hold this Confirmation

Kin. Good Man, those ioyfull teares shew thy true hearts, The common
voyce I see is verified

Of thee, which sayes thus: Doe my Lord of Canterbury A shrewd turne,
and hee's your friend for euer: Come Lords, we trifle time away: I
long

To haue this young one made a Christian.

As I haue made ye one Lords, one remaine: So I grow stronger, you more
Honour gaine.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Noyse and Tumult within: Enter Porter and his man.

Port. You'l leaue your noyse anon ye Rascals: doe you take the Court
for Parish Garden: ye rude Slaues, leaue your gaping

Within. Good M[aster]. Porter I belong to th' Larder

Port. Belong to th' Gallowes, and be hang'd ye Rogue: Is this a
place to roare in? Fetch me a dozen Crab-tree staues, and strong ones;
these are but switches to 'em: Ile scratch your heads; you must be
seeing Christenings? Do you looke for Ale, and Cakes heere, you rude
Raskalls?

Man. Pray Sir be patient; 'tis as much impossible, Vnlesse wee sweepe
'em from the dore with Cannons, To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em
sleepe On May-day Morning, which will neuer be:

We may as well push against Powles as stirre 'em

Por. How got they in, and be hang'd?

Man. Alas I know not, how gets the Tide in? As much as one sound
Cudgell of foure foote, (You see the poore remainder) could distribute,
I made no spare Sir

Port. You did nothing Sir

Man. I am not Sampson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand, To mow 'em downe
before me: but if I spar'd any That had a head to hit, either young or
old, He or shee, Cuckold or Cuckold-maker:

Let me ne're hope to see a Chine againe,

And that I would not for a Cow, God saue her

Within. Do you heare M[aster]. Porter?   Port. I shall be with you
presently, good M[aster]. Puppy, Keepe the dore close Sirha

Man. What would you haue me doe?

Por. What should you doe,

But knock 'em downe by th' dozens? Is this More fields to muster in? Or
haue wee some strange Indian with the great Toole, come to Court, the
women so besiege vs? Bless me, what a fry of Fornication is at dore? On
my Christian Conscience this one Christening will beget a thousand,
here will bee Father, God-father, and all together

Man. The Spoones will be the bigger Sir: There is a fellow somewhat
neere the doore, he should be a Brasier by his face, for o' my
conscience twenty of the Dogdayes now reigne in's Nose; all that stand
about him are vnder the Line, they need no other pennance: that
FireDrake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his
Nose discharged against mee; hee stands there like a Morter-piece to
blow vs. There was a Habberdashers Wife of small wit, neere him, that
rail'd vpon me, till her pinck'd porrenger fell off her head, for
kindling such a combustion in the State. I mist the Meteor once, and
hit that Woman, who cryed out Clubbes, when I might see from farre,
some forty Truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o'th'
Strond where she was quartered; they fell on, I made good my place; at
length they came to th' broome staffe to me, I defide 'em stil, when
sodainly a File of Boyes behind 'em, loose shot, deliuer'd such a
showre of Pibbles, that I was faine to draw mine Honour in, and let 'em
win the Worke, the Diuell was amongst 'em I thinke surely

Por. These are the youths that thunder at a Playhouse, and fight for
bitten Apples, that no Audience but the tribulation of Tower Hill, or
the Limbes of Limehouse, their deare Brothers are able to endure. I
haue some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance
these three dayes; besides the running Banquet of two Beadles, that is
to come.

Enter Lord Chamberlaine.

Cham. Mercy o' me: what a Multitude are heere? They grow still too;
from all Parts they are comming, As if we kept a Faire heere? Where are
these Porters? These lazy knaues? Y'haue made a fine hand fellowes?
Theres a trim rabble let in: are all these Your faithfull friends o'th'
Suburbs? We shall haue Great store of roome no doubt, left for the
Ladies, When they passe backe from the Christening?   Por. And't please
your Honour,

We are but men; and what so many may doe, Not being torne a pieces, we
haue done:

An Army cannot rule 'em

Cham. As I liue,

If the King blame me for't; Ile lay ye all By th' heeles, and sodainly:
and on your heads Clap round Fines for neglect: y'are lazy knaues, And
heere ye lye baiting of Bombards, when Ye should doe Seruice. Harke the
Trumpets sound, Th'are come already from the Christening, Go breake
among the preasse, and finde away out To let the Troope passe fairely;
or Ile finde A Marshallsey, shall hold ye play these two Monthes

Por. Make way there, for the Princesse

Man. You great fellow,

Stand close vp, or Ile make your head ake

Por. You i'th' Chamblet, get vp o'th' raile, Ile pecke you o're the
pales else.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Trumpets sounding: Then two Aldermen, L[ord]. Maior, Garter,

Cranmer, Duke of Norfolke with his Marshals Staffe, Duke of Suffolke,
two

Noblemen, bearing great standing Bowles for the Christening Guifts:
Then

foure Noblemen bearing a Canopy, vnder which the Dutchesse of
Norfolke,

Godmother, bearing the Childe richly habited in a Mantle, &c. Traine
borne

by a Lady: Then followes the Marchionesse Dorset, the other Godmother,
and

Ladies. The Troope passe once about the Stage, and Garter speakes.

Gart. Heauen

From thy endlesse goodnesse, send prosperous life, Long, and euer
happie, to the high and Mighty Princesse of England Elizabeth.

Flourish. Enter King and Guard.

Cran. And to your Royall Grace, & the good Queen, My Noble Partners,
and my selfe thus pray All comfort, ioy in this most gracious Lady,
Heauen euer laid vp to make Parents happy, May hourely fall vpon ye

Kin. Thanke you good Lord Archbishop:

What is her Name?

Cran. Elizabeth

Kin. Stand vp Lord,

With this Kisse, take my Blessing: God protect thee, Into whose hand, I
giue thy Life

Cran. Amen

Kin. My Noble Gossips, y'haue beene too Prodigall; I thanke ye
heartily: So shall this Lady, When she ha's so much English

Cran. Let me speake Sir,

For Heauen now bids me; and the words I vtter, Let none thinke
Flattery; for they'l finde 'em Truth. This Royall Infant, Heauen still
moue about her; Though in her Cradle; yet now promises

Vpon this Land a thousand thousand Blessings, Which Time shall bring to
ripenesse: She shall be, (But few now liuing can behold that goodnesse)
A Patterne to all Princes liuing with her, And all that shall succeed:
Saba was neuer More couetous of Wisedome, and faire Vertue Then this
pure Soule shall be. All Princely Graces That mould vp such a mighty
Piece as this is, With all the Vertues that attend the good, Shall
still be doubled on her. Truth shall Nurse her, Holy and Heauenly
thoughts still Counsell her: She shall be lou'd and fear'd. Her owne
shall blesse her; Her Foes shake like a Field of beaten Corne, And hang
their heads with sorrow:

Good growes with her.

In her dayes, Euery Man shall eate in safety, Vnder his owne Vine what
he plants; and sing The merry Songs of Peace to all his Neighbours. God
shall be truely knowne, and those about her, From her shall read the
perfect way of Honour, And by those claime their greatnesse; not by
Blood. Nor shall this peace sleepe with her: But as when The Bird of
Wonder dyes, the Mayden Phoenix, Her Ashes new create another Heyre,

As great in admiration as her selfe.

So shall she leaue her Blessednesse to One, (When Heauen shal call her
from this clowd of darknes) Who, from the sacred Ashes of her Honour

Shall Star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, And so stand fix'd.
Peace, Plenty, Loue, Truth, Terror, That were the Seruants to this
chosen Infant, Shall then be his, and like a Vine grow to him; Where
euer the bright Sunne of Heauen shall shine, His Honour, and the
greatnesse of his Name, Shall be, and make new Nations. He shall
flourish, And like a Mountaine Cedar, reach his branches, To all the
Plaines about him: Our Childrens Children Shall see this, and blesse
Heauen

Kin. Thou speakest wonders

Cran. She shall be to the happinesse of England, An aged Princesse;
many dayes shall see her, And yet no day without a deed to Crowne it.
Would I had knowne no more: But she must dye, She must, the Saints must
haue her; yet a Virgin, A most vnspotted Lilly shall she passe

To th' ground, and all the World shall mourne her

Kin. O Lord Archbishop

Thou hast made me now a man, neuer before This happy Child, did I get
any thing.

This Oracle of comfort, ha's so pleas'd me, That when I am in Heauen, I
shall desire

To see what this Child does, and praise my Maker. I thanke ye all. To
you my good Lord Maior, And you good Brethren, I am much beholding: I
haue receiu'd much Honour by your presence, And ye shall find me
thankfull. Lead the way Lords, Ye must all see the Queene, and she must
thanke ye, She will be sicke els. This day, no man thinke 'Has
businesse at his house; for all shall stay: This Little-One shall make
it Holy-day.

Exeunt.

THE EPILOGVE. Tis ten to one, this Play can neuer please All that are
heere: Some come to take their ease, And sleepe an Act or two; but
those we feare W'haue frighted with our Trumpets: so 'tis cleare,
They'l say tis naught. Others to heare the City Abus'd extreamly, and
to cry that's witty, Which wee haue not done neither; that I feare All
the expected good w'are like to heare. For this Play at this time, is
onely in

The mercifull construction of good women, For such a one we shew'd 'em:
If they smile, And say twill doe; I know within a while, All the best
men are ours; for 'tis ill hap, If they hold, when their Ladies bid 'em
clap.

FINIS. The Famous History of the Life of King HENRY the Eight.



The Tragedie of Coriolanus

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.



Enter a Company of Mutinous Citizens, with Staues, Clubs, and other

weapons.

1. Citizen. Before we proceed any further, heare me speake

All. Speake, speake

1.Cit. You are all resolu'd rather to dy then to famish?

All. Resolu'd, resolu'd

1.Cit. First you know, Caius Martius is chiefe enemy to the people

All. We know't, we know't

1.Cit. Let vs kill him, and wee'l haue Corne at our own price. Is't
a Verdict?

All. No more talking on't; Let it be done, away, away   2.Cit. One
word, good Citizens

1.Cit. We are accounted poore Citizens, the Patricians good: what
Authority surfets one, would releeue vs. If they would yeelde vs but
the superfluitie while it were wholsome, wee might guesse they releeued
vs humanely: But they thinke we are too deere, the leannesse that
afflicts vs, the obiect of our misery, is as an inuentory to
particularize their abundance, our sufferance is a gaine to them. Let
vs reuenge this with our Pikes, ere we become Rakes. For the Gods know,
I speake this in hunger for Bread, not in thirst for Reuenge

2.Cit. Would you proceede especially against Caius Martius

All. Against him first: He's a very dog to the Commonalty

2.Cit. Consider you what Seruices he ha's done for his Country?

1.Cit. Very well, and could bee content to giue him good report
for't, but that hee payes himselfe with beeing proud

All. Nay, but speak not maliciously

1.Cit. I say vnto you, what he hath done Famouslie, he did it to
that end: though soft conscienc'd men can be content to say it was for
his Countrey, he did it to please his Mother, and to be partly proud,
which he is, euen to the altitude of his vertue

2.Cit. What he cannot helpe in his Nature, you account a Vice in
him: You must in no way say he is couetous

1.Cit. If I must not, I neede not be barren of Accusations he hath
faults (with surplus) to tyre in repetition.

Showts within.

What showts are these? The other side a'th City is risen: why stay we
prating heere? To th' Capitoll

All. Come, come

1 Cit. Soft, who comes heere?

Enter Menenius Agrippa.

2 Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa, one that hath alwayes lou'd the
people

1 Cit. He's one honest enough, wold al the rest wer so

Men. What work's my Countrimen in hand? Where go you with Bats and
Clubs? The matter Speake I pray you

2 Cit. Our busines is not vnknowne to th' Senat, they haue had
inkling this fortnight what we intend to do, w now wee'l shew em in
deeds: they say poore Suters haue strong breaths, they shal know we
haue strong arms too

Menen. Why Masters, my good Friends, mine honest Neighbours, will
you vndo your selues?

2 Cit. We cannot Sir, we are vndone already

Men. I tell you Friends, most charitable care Haue the Patricians of
you for your wants. Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well
Strike at the Heauen with your staues, as lift them Against the Roman
State, whose course will on The way it takes: cracking ten thousand
Curbes Of more strong linke assunder, then can euer Appeare in your
impediment. For the Dearth, The Gods, not the Patricians make it, and
Your knees to them (not armes) must helpe. Alacke, You are transported
by Calamity

Thether, where more attends you, and you slander The Helmes o'th State;
who care for you like Fathers, When you curse them, as Enemies

2 Cit. Care for vs? True indeed, they nere car'd for vs yet. Suffer
vs to famish, and their Store-houses cramm'd with Graine: Make Edicts
for Vsurie, to support Vsurers; repeale daily any wholsome Act
established against the rich, and prouide more piercing Statutes daily,
to chaine vp and restraine the poore. If the Warres eate vs not vppe,
they will; and there's all the loue they beare vs

Menen. Either you must

Confesse your selues wondrous Malicious,

Or be accus'd of Folly. I shall tell you

A pretty Tale, it may be you haue heard it, But since it serues my
purpose, I will venture To scale't a little more

2 Citizen. Well,

Ile heare it Sir: yet you must not thinke To fobbe off our disgrace
with a tale:

But and't please you deliuer

Men. There was a time, when all the bodies members Rebell'd against
the Belly; thus accus'd it: That onely like a Gulfe it did remaine

I'th midd'st a th' body, idle and vnactiue, Still cubbording the Viand,
neuer bearing Like labour with the rest, where th' other Instruments
Did see, and heare, deuise, instruct, walke, feele, And mutually
participate, did minister

Vnto the appetite; and affection common

Of the whole body, the Belly answer'd

2.Cit. Well sir, what answer made the Belly

Men. Sir, I shall tell you with a kinde of Smile, Which ne're came
from the Lungs, but euen thus: For looke you I may make the belly
Smile, As well as speake, it taintingly replyed

To'th' discontented Members, the mutinous parts That enuied his
receite: euen so most fitly, As you maligne our Senators, for that

They are not such as you

2.Cit. Your Bellies answer: What

The Kingly crown'd head, the vigilant eye, The Counsailor Heart, the
Arme our Souldier, Our Steed the Legge, the Tongue our Trumpeter, With
other Muniments and petty helpes

In this our Fabricke, if that they-

Men. What then? Fore me, this Fellow speakes. What then? What then?

2.Cit. Should by the Cormorant belly be restrain'd, Who is the sinke
a th' body

Men. Well, what then?

2.Cit. The former Agents, if they did complaine, What could the Belly
answer?

Men. I will tell you,

If you'l bestow a small (of what you haue little) Patience awhile;
you'st heare the Bellies answer

2.Cit. Y'are long about it

Men. Note me this good Friend;

Your most graue Belly was deliberate,

Not rash like his Accusers, and thus answered. True is it my
Incorporate Friends (quoth he) That I receiue the generall Food at
first Which you do liue vpon: 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 Riuers of your blood Euen to the
Court, the Heart, to th' seate o'th' Braine, And through the Crankes
and Offices of man, The strongest Nerues, and small inferiour Veines
From me receiue that naturall competencie Whereby they liue. And though
that all at once (You my good Friends, this sayes the Belly) marke me

2.Cit. I sir, well, well

Men. Though all at once, cannot

See what I do deliuer out to each,

Yet I can make my Awdit vp, that all

From me do backe receiue the Flowre of all, And leaue me but the Bran.
What say you too't?   2.Cit. It was an answer, how apply you this? Men.
The Senators of Rome, are this good Belly, And you the mutinous
Members: For examine Their Counsailes, and their Cares; disgest things
rightly, Touching the Weale a'th Common, you shall finde No publique
benefit which you receiue

But it proceeds, or comes from them to you, And no way from your
selues. What do you thinke? You, the great Toe of this Assembly?

2.Cit. I the great Toe? Why the great Toe?   Men. For that being one
o'th lowest, basest, poorest Of this most wise Rebellion, thou goest
formost: Thou Rascall, that art worst in blood to run, Lead'st first to
win some vantage.

But make you ready your stiffe bats and clubs, Rome, and her Rats, are
at the point of battell, The one side must haue baile.

Enter Caius Martius.

Hayle, Noble Martius

Mar. Thanks. What's the matter you dissentious rogues That rubbing
the poore Itch of your Opinion, Make your selues Scabs

2.Cit. We haue euer your good word

Mar. He that will giue good words to thee, wil flatter Beneath
abhorring. What would you haue, you Curres, That like nor Peace, nor
Warre? The one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trusts
to you, Where he should finde you Lyons, findes you Hares: Where Foxes,
Geese you are: No surer, no, Then is the coale of fire vpon the Ice,

Or Hailstone in the Sun. Your Vertue is,

To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him, And curse that Iustice
did it. Who deserues Greatnes, Deserues your Hate: and your Affections
are A sickmans Appetite; who desires most that Which would encrease his
euill. He that depends Vpon your fauours, swimmes with finnes of Leade,
And hewes downe Oakes, with rushes. Hang ye: trust ye? With euery
Minute you do change a Minde,

And call him Noble, that was now your Hate: Him vilde, that was your
Garland. What's the matter, That in these seuerall places of the Citie,
You cry against the Noble Senate, who

(Vnder the Gods) keepe you in awe, which else Would feede on one
another? What's their seeking?   Men. For Corne at their owne rates,
wherof they say The Citie is well stor'd

Mar. Hang 'em: They say?

They'l sit by th' fire, and presume to know What's done i'th Capitoll:
Who's like to rise, Who thriues, & who declines: Side factions, & giue
out Coniecturall Marriages, making parties strong, And feebling such as
stand not in their liking, Below their cobled Shooes. They say ther's
grain enough? Would the Nobility lay aside their ruth,

And let me vse my Sword, I'de make a Quarrie With thousands of these
quarter'd slaues, as high As I could picke my Lance

Menen. Nay these are almost thoroughly perswaded: For though
abundantly they lacke discretion Yet are they passing Cowardly. But I
beseech you, What sayes the other Troope?

Mar. They are dissolu'd: Hang em;

They said they were an hungry, sigh'd forth Prouerbes That Hunger-broke
stone wals: that dogges must eate That meate was made for mouths. That
the gods sent not Corne for the Richmen onely: With these shreds They
vented their Complainings, which being answer'd And a petition granted
them, a strange one, To breake the heart of generosity,

And make bold power looke pale, they threw their caps As they would
hang them on the hornes a'th Moone, Shooting their Emulation

Menen. What is graunted them?

Mar. Fiue Tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms Of their owne
choice. One's Iunius Brutus, Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. Sdeath,
The rabble should haue first vnroo'st the City Ere so preuayl'd with
me; it will in time Win vpon power, and throw forth greater Theames For
Insurrections arguing

Menen. This is strange

Mar. Go get you home you Fragments.

Enter a Messenger hastily.

Mess. Where's Caius Martius?

Mar. Heere: what's the matter!

Mes. The newes is sir, the Volcies are in Armes

Mar. I am glad on't, then we shall ha meanes to vent Our mustie
superfluity. See our best Elders. Enter Sicinius Velutus, Annius Brutus
Cominius, Titus Lartius, with other

Senatours.

1.Sen. Martius 'tis true, that you haue lately told vs, The Volces
are in Armes

Mar. They haue a Leader,

Tullus Auffidius that will put you too't: I sinne in enuying his
Nobility:

And were I any thing but what I am,

I would wish me onely he

Com. You haue fought together?

Mar. Were halfe to halfe the world by th' eares, & he vpon my partie,
I'de reuolt to make

Onely my warres with him. He is a Lion

That I am proud to hunt

1.Sen. Then worthy Martius,

Attend vpon Cominius to these Warres

Com. It is your former promise

Mar. Sir it is,

And I am constant: Titus Lucius, thou

Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus face. What art thou stiffe?
Stand'st out?

Tit. No Caius Martius,

Ile leane vpon one Crutch, and fight with tother, Ere stay behinde this
Businesse

Men. Oh true-bred

Sen. Your Company to'th' Capitoll, where I know Our greatest Friends
attend vs

Tit. Lead you on: Follow Cominius, we must followe you, right worthy
your Priority

Com. Noble Martius

Sen. Hence to your homes, be gone

Mar. Nay let them follow,

The Volces haue much Corne: take these Rats thither, To gnaw their
Garners. Worshipfull Mutiners, Your valour puts well forth: Pray
follow.

Exeunt.

Citizens steale away. Manet Sicin. & Brutus.

Sicin. Was euer man so proud as is this Martius?   Bru. He has no
equall

Sicin. When we were chosen Tribunes for the people

Bru. Mark'd you his lip and eyes

Sicin. Nay, but his taunts

Bru. Being mou'd, he will not spare to gird the Gods

Sicin. Bemocke the modest Moone

Bru. The present Warres deuoure him, he is growne Too proud to be so
valiant

Sicin. Such a Nature, tickled with good successe, disdaines the
shadow which he treads on at noone, but I do wonder, his insolence can
brooke to be commanded vnder Cominius?

Bru. Fame, at the which he aymes,

In whom already he's well grac'd, cannot

Better be held, nor more attain'd then by A place below the first: for
what miscarries Shall be the Generals fault, though he performe To th'
vtmost of a man, and giddy censure Will then cry out of Martius: Oh, if
he

Had borne the businesse

Sicin. Besides, if things go well,

Opinion that so stickes on Martius, shall Of his demerits rob Cominius

Bru. Come: halfe all Cominius Honors are to Martius Though Martius
earn'd them not: and all his faults To Martius shall be Honors, though
indeed In ought he merit not

Sicin. Let's hence, and heare

How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion More then his
singularity, he goes

Vpon this present Action

Bru. Let's along.

Exeunt.

Enter Tullus Auffidius with Senators of Coriolus.

1.Sen. So, your opinion is Auffidius,

That they of Rome are entred in our Counsailes, And know how we
proceede,

Auf. Is it not yours?

What euer haue bin thought one in this State That could be brought to
bodily act, ere Rome Had circumuention: 'tis not foure dayes gone Since
I heard thence, these are the words, I thinke I haue the Letter heere:
yes, heere it is; They haue prest a Power, but it is not knowne Whether
for East or West: the Dearth is great, The people Mutinous: And it is
rumour'd,

Cominius, Martius your old Enemy

(Who is of Rome worse hated then of you)

And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,

These three leade on this Preparation

Whether 'tis bent: most likely, 'tis for you: Consider of it

1.Sen. Our Armie's in the Field:

We neuer yet made doubt but Rome was ready To answer vs

Auf. Nor did you thinke it folly,

To keepe your great pretences vayl'd, till when They needs must shew
themselues, which in the hatching It seem'd appear'd to Rome. By the
discouery, We shalbe shortned in our ayme, which was To take in many
Townes, ere (almost) Rome Should know we were a-foot

2.Sen. Noble Auffidius,

Take your Commission, hye you to your Bands, Let vs alone to guard
Corioles

If they set downe before's: for the remoue Bring vp your Army: but (I
thinke) you'l finde Th'haue not prepar'd for vs

Auf. O doubt not that,

I speake from Certainties. Nay more,

Some parcels of their Power are forth already, And onely hitherward. I
leaue your Honors. If we, and Caius Martius chance to meete, 'Tis
sworne betweene vs, we shall euer strike Till one can do no more

All. The Gods assist you

Auf. And keepe your Honors safe

1.Sen. Farewell

2.Sen. Farewell

All. Farewell.

Exeunt. omnes.

Enter Volumnia and Virgilia, mother and wife to Martius: They set them

downe on two lowe stooles and sowe.

Volum. I pray you daughter sing, or expresse your selfe in a more
comfortable sort: If my Sonne were my Husband, I should freelier
reioyce in that absence wherein he wonne Honor, then in the
embracements of his Bed, where he would shew most loue. When yet hee
was but tender-bodied, and the onely Sonne of my womb; when youth with
comelinesse pluck'd all gaze his way; when for a day of Kings
entreaties, a Mother should not sel him an houre from her beholding; I
considering how Honour would become such a person, that it was no
better then Picture-like to hang by th' wall, if renowne made it not
stirre, was pleas'd to let him seeke danger, where he was like to finde
fame: To a cruell Warre I sent him, from whence he return'd, his browes
bound with Oake. I tell thee Daughter, I sprang not more in ioy at
first hearing he was a Man-child, then now in first seeing he had
proued himselfe a man

Virg. But had he died in the Businesse Madame, how then?

Volum. Then his good report should haue beene my Sonne, I therein
would haue found issue. Heare me professe sincerely, had I a dozen sons
each in my loue alike, and none lesse deere then thine, and my good
Martius, I had rather had eleuen dye Nobly for their Countrey, then one
voluptuously surfet out of Action.

Enter a Gentlewoman.

Gent. Madam, the lady Valeria is come to visit you

Virg. Beseech you giue me leaue to retire my selfe

Volum. Indeed you shall not:

Me thinkes, I heare hither your Husbands Drumme: See him plucke
Auffidius downe by th' haire: (As children from a Beare) the Volces
shunning him: Me thinkes I see him stampe thus, and call thus, Come on
you Cowards, you were got in feare Though you were borne in Rome; his
bloody brow With his mail'd hand, then wiping, forth he goes Like to a
Haruest man, that task'd to mowe Or all, or loose his hyre

Virg. His bloody Brow? Oh Iupiter, no blood

Volum. Away you Foole; it more becomes a man Then gilt his Trophe.
The brests of Hecuba When she did suckle Hector, look'd not louelier
Then Hectors forhead, when it spit forth blood At Grecian sword.
Contenning, tell Valeria We are fit to bid her welcome.

Exit Gent.

Vir. Heauens blesse my Lord from fell Auffidius

Vol. Hee'l beat Auffidius head below his knee, And treade vpon his
necke.

Enter Valeria with an Vsher, and a Gentlewoman.

Val. My Ladies both good day to you

Vol. Sweet Madam

Vir. I am glad to see your Ladyship

Val. How do you both? You are manifest house-keepers. What are you
sowing heere? A fine spotte in good faith. How does your little Sonne?

Vir. I thanke your Lady-ship: Well good Madam

Vol. He had rather see the swords, and heare a Drum, then looke vpon
his Schoolmaster

Val. A my word the Fathers Sonne: Ile sweare 'tis a very pretty boy.
A my troth, I look'd vpon him a Wensday halfe an houre together: ha's
such a confirm'd countenance. I saw him run after a gilded Butterfly, &
when he caught it, he let it go againe, and after it againe, and ouer
and ouer he comes, and vp againe: catcht it again: or whether his fall
enrag'd him, or how 'twas, hee did so set his teeth, and teare it. Oh,
I warrant how he mammockt it

Vol. One on's Fathers moods

Val. Indeed la, tis a Noble childe

Virg. A Cracke Madam

Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery, I must haue you play the idle
Huswife with me this afternoone

Virg. No (good Madam)

I will not out of doores

Val. Not out of doores?

Volum. She shall, she shall

Virg. Indeed no, by your patience; Ile not ouer the threshold, till
my Lord returne from the Warres

Val. Fye, you confine your selfe most vnreasonably: Come, you must
go visit the good Lady that lies in

Virg. I will wish her speedy strength, and visite her with my
prayers: but I cannot go thither

Volum. Why I pray you

Vlug. 'Tis not to saue labour, nor that I want loue

Val. You would be another Penelope: yet they say, all the yearne she
spun in Vlisses absence, did but fill Athica full of Mothes. Come, I
would your Cambrick were sensible as your finger, that you might leaue
pricking it for pitie. Come you shall go with vs

Vir. No good Madam, pardon me, indeed I will not foorth

Val. In truth la go with me, and Ile tell you excellent newes of
your Husband

Virg. Oh good Madam, there can be none yet

Val. Verily I do not iest with you: there came newes from him last
night

Vir. Indeed Madam

Val. In earnest it's true; I heard a Senatour speake it. Thus it is:
the Volcies haue an Army forth, against who[m] Cominius the Generall is
gone, with one part of our Romane power. Your Lord, and Titus Lartius,
are set down before their Citie Carioles, they nothing doubt
preuailing, and to make it breefe Warres. This is true on mine Honor,
and so I pray go with vs

Virg. Giue me excuse good Madame, I will obey you in euery thing
heereafter

Vol. Let her alone Ladie, as she is now: She will but disease our
better mirth

Valeria. In troth I thinke she would:

Fare you well then. Come good sweet Ladie. Prythee Virgilia turne thy
solemnesse out a doore, And go along with vs

Virgil. No

At a word Madam; Indeed I must not,

I wish you much mirth

Val. Well, then farewell.

Exeunt. Ladies.

Enter Martius, Titus Lartius, with Drumme and Colours, with Captaines
and

Souldiers, as before the City Corialus: to them a Messenger.

Martius. Yonder comes Newes:

A Wager they haue met

Lar. My horse to yours, no

Mar. Tis done

Lart. Agreed

Mar. Say, ha's our Generall met the Enemy?   Mess. They lye in view,
but haue not spoke as yet

Lart. So, the good Horse is mine

Mart. Ile buy him of you

Lart. No, Ile nor sel, nor giue him: Lend you him I will For halfe a
hundred yeares: Summon the Towne

Mar. How farre off lie these Armies?

Mess. Within this mile and halfe

Mar. Then shall we heare their Larum, & they Ours. Now Mars, I
prythee make vs quicke in worke, That we with smoaking swords may march
from hence To helpe our fielded Friends. Come, blow thy blast.

They Sound a Parley: Enter two Senators with others on the Walles of

Corialus.

Tullus Auffidious, is he within your Walles?   1.Senat. No, nor a man
that feares you lesse then he, That's lesser then a little:

Drum a farre off.

Hearke, our Drummes

Are bringing forth our youth: Wee'l breake our Walles Rather then they
shall pound vs vp our Gates, Which yet seeme shut, we haue but pin'd
with Rushes, They'le open of themselues. Harke you, farre off

Alarum farre off.

There is Auffidious. List what worke he makes Among'st your clouen
Army

Mart. Oh they are at it

Lart. Their noise be our instruction. Ladders hoa. Enter the Army of
the Volces.

Mar. They feare vs not, but issue forth their Citie. Now put your
Shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proofe then
Shields.

Aduance braue Titus,

They do disdaine vs much beyond our Thoughts, which makes me sweat with
wrath. Come on my fellows He that retires, Ile take him for a Volce,
And he shall feele mine edge.

Alarum, the Romans are beat back to their Trenches Enter Martius
Cursing.

Mar. All the contagion of the South, light on you, You Shames of
Rome: you Heard of Byles and Plagues Plaister you o're, that you may be
abhorr'd Farther then seene, and one infect another Against the Winde a
mile: you soules of Geese, That beare the shapes of men, how haue you
run From Slaues, that Apes would beate; Pluto and Hell, All hurt
behinde, backes red, and faces pale With flight and agued feare, mend
and charge home, Or by the fires of heauen, Ile leaue the Foe, And make
my Warres on you: Looke too't: Come on, If you'l stand fast, wee'l
beate them to their Wiues, As they vs to our Trenches followes.

Another Alarum, and Martius followes them to gates, and is shut in.

So, now the gates are ope: now proue good Seconds, 'Tis for the
followers Fortune, widens them, Not for the flyers: Marke me, and do
the like. Enter the Gati.

1.Sol. Foole-hardinesse, not I

2.Sol. Nor I

1.Sol. See they haue shut him in.

Alarum continues

All. To th' pot I warrant him.

Enter Titus Lartius

Tit. What is become of Martius?

All. Slaine (Sir) doubtlesse

1.Sol. Following the Flyers at the very heeles, With them he enters:
who vpon the sodaine Clapt to their Gates, he is himselfe alone, To
answer all the City

Lar. Oh Noble Fellow!

Who sensibly out-dares his sencelesse Sword, And when it bowes,
stand'st vp: Thou art left Martius, A Carbuncle intire: as big as thou
art

Weare not so rich a Iewell. Thou was't a Souldier Euen to Calues wish,
not fierce and terrible Onely in strokes, but with thy grim lookes, and
The Thunder-like percussion of thy sounds Thou mad'st thine enemies
shake, as if the World Were Feauorous, and did tremble.

Enter Martius bleeding, assaulted by the Enemy.

1.Sol. Looke Sir

Lar. O 'tis Martius.

Let's fetch him off, or make remaine alike.

They fight, and all enter the City.

Enter certaine Romanes with spoiles.

1.Rom. This will I carry to Rome

2.Rom. And I this

3.Rom. A Murrain on't, I tooke this for Siluer.

Exeunt.

Alarum continues still a-farre off.

Enter Martius, and Titus with a Trumpet.

Mar. See heere these mouers, that do prize their hours At a crack'd
Drachme: Cushions, Leaden Spoones, Irons of a Doit, Dublets that
Hangmen would Bury with those that wore them. These base slaues, Ere
yet the fight be done, packe vp, downe with them. And harke, what noyse
the Generall makes: To him There is the man of my soules hate,
Auffidious, Piercing our Romanes: Then Valiant Titus take Conuenient
Numbers to make good the City, Whil'st I with those that haue the
spirit, wil haste To helpe Cominius

Lar. Worthy Sir, thou bleed'st,

Thy exercise hath bin too violent,

For a second course of Fight

Mar. Sir, praise me not:

My worke hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well: The blood I drop, is
rather Physicall

Then dangerous to me: To Auffidious thus, I will appear and fight

Lar. Now the faire Goddesse Fortune,

Fall deepe in loue with thee, and her great charmes Misguide thy
Opposers swords, Bold Gentleman: Prosperity be thy Page

Mar. Thy Friend no lesse,

Then those she placeth highest: So farewell

Lar. Thou worthiest Martius,

Go sound thy Trumpet in the Market place, Call thither all the Officers
a'th' Towne, Where they shall know our minde. Away.

Exeunt.

Enter Cominius as it were in retire, with soldiers.

Com. Breath you my friends, wel fought, we are come off, Like Romans,
neither foolish in our stands, Nor Cowardly in retyre: Beleeue me
Sirs,

We shall be charg'd againe. Whiles we haue strooke By Interims and
conueying gusts, we haue heard The Charges of our Friends. The Roman
Gods, Leade their successes, as we wish our owne, That both our powers,
with smiling Fronts encountring, May giue you thankfull Sacrifice. Thy
Newes? Enter a Messenger.

Mess. The Cittizens of Corioles haue yssued, And giuen to Lartius and
to Martius Battaile: I saw our party to their Trenches driuen, And then
I came away

Com. Though thou speakest truth,

Me thinkes thou speak'st not well. How long is't since?   Mes. Aboue an
houre, my Lord

Com. 'Tis not a mile: briefely we heard their drummes. How could'st
thou in a mile confound an houre, And bring thy Newes so late?

Mes. Spies of the Volces

Held me in chace, that I was forc'd to wheele Three or foure miles
about, else had I sir Halfe an houre since brought my report.

Enter Martius.

Com. Whose yonder,

That doe's appeare as he were Flead? O Gods, He has the stampe of
Martius, and I haue

Before time seene him thus

Mar. Come I too late?

Com. The Shepherd knowes not Thunder fro[m] a Taber, More then I know
the sound of Martius Tongue From euery meaner man

Martius. Come I too late?

Com. I, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your
owne

Mart. Oh! let me clip ye

In Armes as sound, as when I woo'd in heart; As merry, as when our
Nuptiall day was done, And Tapers burnt to Bedward

Com. Flower of Warriors, how is't with Titus Lartius?   Mar. As with
a man busied about Decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to
exile, Ransoming him, or pittying, threatning th' other; Holding
Corioles in the name of Rome,

Euen like a fawning Grey-hound in the Leash, To let him slip at will

Com. Where is that Slaue

Which told me they had beate you to your Trenches? Where is he? Call
him hither

Mar. Let him alone,

He did informe the truth: but for our Gentlemen, The common file, (a
plague-Tribunes for them) The Mouse ne're shunn'd the Cat, as they did
budge From Rascals worse then they

Com. But how preuail'd you?

Mar. Will the time serue to tell, I do not thinke: Where is the
enemy? Are you Lords a'th Field? If not, why cease you till you are
so?

Com. Martius, we haue at disaduantage fought, And did retyre to win
our purpose

Mar. How lies their Battell? Know you on w side They haue plac'd
their men of trust?

Com. As I guesse Martius,

Their Bands i'th Vaward are the Antients

Of their best trust: O're them Auffidious, Their very heart of Hope

Mar. I do beseech you,

By all the Battailes wherein we haue fought, By th' Blood we haue shed
together,

By th' Vowes we haue made

To endure Friends, that you directly set me Against Affidious, and his
Antiats,

And that you not delay the present (but

Filling the aire with Swords aduanc'd) and Darts, We proue this very
houre

Com. Though I could wish,

You were conducted to a gentle Bath,

And Balmes applyed to you, yet dare I neuer Deny your asking, take your
choice of those That best can ayde your action

Mar. Those are they

That most are willing; if any such be heere, (As it were sinne to
doubt) that loue this painting Wherein you see me smear'd, if any
feare

Lessen his person, then an ill report:

If any thinke, braue death out-weighes bad life, And that his Countries
deerer then himselfe, Let him alone: Or so many so minded,

Waue thus to expresse his disposition,

And follow Martius.

They all shout and waue their swords, take him vp in their Armes, and
cast

vp their Caps.

Oh me alone, make you a sword of me:

If these shewes be not outward, which of you But is foure Volces? None
of you, but is

Able to beare against the great Auffidious A Shield, as hard as his. A
certaine number (Though thankes to all) must I select from all: The
rest shall beare the businesse in some other fight (As cause will be
obey'd:) please you to March, And foure shall quickly draw out my
Command, Which men are best inclin'd

Com. March on my Fellowes:

Make good this ostentation, and you shall Diuide in all, with vs.

Exeunt.

Titus Lartius, hauing set a guard vpon Carioles, going with Drum and

Trumpet toward Cominius, and Caius Martius, Enters with a Lieutenant,

other Souldiours, and a Scout.

Lar. So, let the Ports be guarded; keepe your Duties As I haue set
them downe. If I do send, dispatch Those Centuries to our ayd, the rest
will serue For a short holding, if we loose the Field, We cannot keepe
the Towne

Lieu. Feare not our care Sir

Lart. Hence; and shut your gates vpon's: Our Guider come, to th'
Roman Campe conduct vs.

Exit

Alarum, as in Battaile.

Enter Martius and Auffidius at seueral doores.

Mar. Ile fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee Worse then a
Promise-breaker

Auffid. We hate alike:

Not Affricke ownes a Serpent I abhorre

More then thy Fame and Enuy: Fix thy foot

Mar. Let the first Budger dye the others Slaue, And the Gods doome
him after

Auf. If I flye Martius, hollow me like a Hare

Mar. Within these three houres Tullus

Alone I fought in your Corioles walles,

And made what worke I pleas'd: 'Tis not my blood, Wherein thou seest me
maskt, for thy Reuenge Wrench vp thy power to th' highest

Auf. Wer't thou the Hector,

That was the whip of your bragg'd Progeny, Thou should'st not scape me
heere.

Heere they fight, and certaine Volces come in the ayde of Auffi.
Martius

fights til they be driuen in breathles.

Officious and not valiant, you haue sham'd me In your condemned
Seconds.

Flourish. Alarum. A Retreat is sounded. Enter at one Doore Cominius,
with

the Romanes: At another Doore Martius, with his Arme in a Scarfe.

Com. If I should tell thee o're this thy dayes Worke, Thou't not
beleeue thy deeds: but Ile report it, Where Senators shall mingle
teares with smiles, Where great Patricians shall attend, and shrug,
I'th' end admire: where Ladies shall be frighted, And gladly quak'd,
heare more: where the dull Tribunes, That with the fustie Plebeans,
hate thine Honors, Shall say against their hearts, We thanke the Gods
Our Rome hath such a Souldier.

Yet cam'st thou to a Morsell of this Feast, Hauing fully din'd before.

Enter Titus with his Power, from the Pursuit.

Titus Lartius. Oh Generall:

Here is the Steed, wee the Caparison:

Hadst thou beheld-

Martius. Pray now, no more:

My Mother, who ha's a Charter to extoll her Bloud, When she do's prayse
me, grieues me:

I haue done as you haue done, that's what I can, Induc'd as you haue
beene, that's for my Countrey: He that ha's but effected his good
will,

Hath ouerta'ne mine Act

Com. You shall not be the Graue of your deseruing, Rome must know
the value of her owne:

'Twere a Concealement worse then a Theft, No lesse then a Traducement,

To hide your doings, and to silence that, Which to the spire, and top
of prayses vouch'd, Would seeme but modest: therefore I beseech you, In
signe of what you are, not to reward

What you haue done, before our Armie heare me

Martius. I haue some Wounds vpon me, and they smart To heare
themselues remembred

Com. Should they not:

Well might they fester 'gainst Ingratitude, And tent themselues with
death: of all the Horses, Whereof we haue ta'ne good, and good store of
all, The Treasure in this field atchieued, and Citie, We render you the
Tenth, to be ta'ne forth, Before the common distribution,

At your onely choyse

Martius. I thanke you Generall:

But cannot make my heart consent to take

A Bribe, to pay my Sword: I doe refuse it, And stand vpon my common
part with those, That haue beheld the doing.

A long flourish. They all cry, Martius, Martius, cast vp their Caps
and

Launces: Cominius and Lartius stand bare.

Mar. May these same Instruments, which you prophane, Neuer sound
more: when Drums and Trumpets shall I'th' field proue flatterers, let
Courts and Cities be Made all of false-fac'd soothing:

When Steele growes soft, as the Parasites Silke, Let him be made an
Ouerture for th' Warres: No more I say, for that I haue not wash'd My
Nose that bled, or foyl'd some debile Wretch, Which without note,
here's many else haue done, You shoot me forth in acclamations
hyperbolicall, As if I lou'd my little should be dieted

In prayses, sawc'st with Lyes

Com. Too modest are you:

More cruell to your good report, then gratefull To vs, that giue you
truly: by your patience, If 'gainst your selfe you be incens'd, wee'le
put you (Like one that meanes his proper harme) in Manacles, Then
reason safely with you: Therefore be it knowne, As to vs, to all the
World, That Caius Martius Weares this Warres Garland: in token of the
which, My Noble Steed, knowne to the Campe, I giue him, With all his
trim belonging; and from this time, For what he did before Corioles,
call him, With all th' applause and Clamor of the Hoast, Marcus Caius
Coriolanus. Beare th' addition Nobly euer? Flourish. Trumpets sound,
and Drums.

Omnes. Marcus Caius Coriolanus

Martius. I will goe wash:

And when my Face is faire, you shall perceiue Whether I blush or no:
howbeit, I thanke you, I meane to stride your Steed, and at all times
To vnder-crest your good Addition,

To th' fairenesse of my power

Com. So, to our Tent:

Where ere we doe repose vs, we will write To Rome of our successe: you
Titus Lartius Must to Corioles backe, send vs to Rome

The best, with whom we may articulate,

For their owne good, and ours

Lartius. I shall, my Lord

Martius. The Gods begin to mocke me:

I that now refus'd most Princely gifts,

Am bound to begge of my Lord Generall

Com. Tak't, 'tis yours: what is't?

Martius. I sometime lay here in Corioles, At a poore mans house: he
vs'd me kindly, He cry'd to me: I saw him Prisoner:

But then Auffidius was within my view,

And Wrath o're-whelm'd my pittie: I request you To giue my poore Host
freedome

Com. Oh well begg'd:

Were he the Butcher of my Sonne, he should Be free, as is the Winde:
deliuer him, Titus

Lartius. Martius, his Name

Martius. By Iupiter forgot:

I am wearie, yea, my memorie is tyr'd:

Haue we no Wine here?

Com. Goe we to our Tent:

The bloud vpon your Visage dryes, 'tis time It should be lookt too:
come.

Exeunt.

A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Auffidius bloudie, with two or three

Souldiors.

Auffi. The Towne is ta'ne

Sould. 'Twill be deliuer'd backe on good Condition

Auffid. Condition?

I would I were a Roman, for I cannot,

Being a Volce, be that I am. Condition?

What good Condition can a Treatie finde

I'th' part that is at mercy? fiue times, Martius, I haue fought with
thee; so often hast thou beat me: And would'st doe so, I thinke, should
we encounter As often as we eate. By th' Elements,

If ere againe I meet him beard to beard,

He's mine, or I am his: Mine Emulation

Hath not that Honor in't it had: For where I thought to crush him in an
equall Force, True Sword to Sword: Ile potche at him some way, Or
Wrath, or Craft may get him

Sol. He's the diuell

Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: my valors poison'd, With onely
suff'ring staine by him: for him Shall flye out of it selfe, nor
sleepe, nor sanctuary, Being naked, sicke; nor Phane, nor Capitoll, The
Prayers of Priests, nor times of Sacrifice: Embarquements all of Fury,
shall lift vp

Their rotten Priuiledge, and Custome 'gainst My hate to Martius. Where
I finde him, were it At home, vpon my Brothers Guard, euen there
Against the hospitable Canon, would I

Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th' Citie, Learne how 'tis
held, and what they are that must Be Hostages for Rome

Soul. Will not you go?

Auf. I am attended at the Cyprus groue. I pray you ('Tis South the
City Mils) bring me word thither How the world goes: that to the pace
of it I may spurre on my iourney

Soul. I shall sir.

Actus Secundus.



Enter Menenius with the two Tribunes of the people, Sicinius &
Brutus.

Men. The Agurer tels me, wee shall haue Newes to night

Bru. Good or bad?

Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they loue not
Martius

Sicin. Nature teaches Beasts to know their Friends

Men. Pray you, who does the Wolfe loue?   Sicin. The Lambe

Men. I, to deuour him, as the hungry Plebeians would the Noble
Martius

Bru. He's a Lambe indeed, that baes like a Beare

Men. Hee's a Beare indeede, that liues like a Lambe. You two are old
men, tell me one thing that I shall aske you

Both. Well sir

Men. In what enormity is Martius poore in, that you two haue not in
abundance?

Bru. He's poore in no one fault, but stor'd withall

Sicin. Especially in Pride

Bru. And topping all others in boasting

Men. This is strange now: Do you two know, how you are censured
heere in the City, I mean of vs a'th' right hand File, do you?

Both. Why? how are we censur'd?

Men. Because you talke of Pride now, will you not be angry

Both. Well, well sir, well

Men. Why 'tis no great matter: for a very little theefe of Occasion,
will rob you of a great deale of Patience: Giue your dispositions the
reines, and bee angry at your pleasures (at the least) if you take it
as a pleasure to you, in being so: you blame Martius for being proud

Brut. We do it not alone, sir

Men. I know you can doe very little alone, for your helpes are many,
or else your actions would growe wondrous single: your abilities are to
Infant-like, for dooing much alone. You talke of Pride: Oh, that you
could turn your eyes toward the Napes of your neckes, and make but an
Interiour suruey of your good selues. Oh that you could

Both. What then sir?

Men. Why then you should discouer a brace of vnmeriting, proud,
violent, testie Magistrates (alias Fooles) as any in Rome

Sicin. Menenius, you are knowne well enough too

Men. I am knowne to be a humorous Patritian, and one that loues a
cup of hot Wine, with not a drop of alaying Tiber in't: Said, to be
something imperfect in fauouring the first complaint, hasty and
Tinder-like vppon, to triuiall motion: One, that conuerses more with
the Buttocke of the night, then with the forhead of the morning. What I
think, I vtter, and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such
Weales men as you are (I cannot call you Licurgusses,) if the drinke
you giue me, touch my Palat aduersly, I make a crooked face at it, I
can say, your Worshippes haue deliuer'd the matter well, when I finde
the Asse in compound, with the Maior part of your syllables. And though
I must be content to beare with those, that say you are reuerend graue
men, yet they lye deadly, that tell you haue good faces, if you see
this in the Map of my Microcosme, followes it that I am knowne well
enough too? What harme can your beesome Conspectuities gleane out of
this Charracter, if I be knowne well enough too

Bru. Come sir come, we know you well enough

Menen. You know neither mee, your selues, nor any thing: you are
ambitious, for poore knaues cappes and legges: you weare out a good
wholesome Forenoone, in hearing a cause betweene an Orendge wife, and a
Forfetseller, and then reiourne the Controuersie of three-pence to a
second day of Audience. When you are hearing a matter betweene party
and party, if you chaunce to bee pinch'd with the Collike, you make
faces like Mummers, set vp the bloodie Flagge against all Patience, and
in roaring for a Chamber-pot, dismisse the Controuersie bleeding, the
more intangled by your hearing: All the peace you make in their Cause,
is calling both the parties Knaues. You are a payre of strange ones

Bru. Come, come, you are well vnderstood to bee a perfecter gyber
for the Table, then a necessary Bencher in the Capitoll

Men. Our very Priests must become Mockers, if they shall encounter
such ridiculous Subiects as you are, when you speake best vnto the
purpose. It is not woorth the wagging of your Beards, and your Beards
deserue not so honourable a graue, as to stuffe a Botchers Cushion, or
to be intomb'd in an Asses Packe-saddle; yet you must bee saying,
Martius is proud: who in a cheape estimation, is worth all your
predecessors, since Deucalion, though peraduenture some of the best of
'em were hereditarie hangmen. Godden to your Worships, more of your
conuersation would infect my Braine, being the Heardsmen of the Beastly
Plebeans. I will be bold to take my leaue of you.

Bru. and Scic. Aside.

Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria.

How now (my as faire as Noble) Ladyes, and the Moone were shee Earthly,
no Nobler; whither doe you follow your Eyes so fast?

Volum. Honorable Menenius, my Boy Martius approches: for the loue of
Iuno let's goe

Menen. Ha? Martius comming home?

Volum. I, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous approbation

Menen. Take my Cappe Iupiter, and I thanke thee: hoo, Martius
comming home?

2.Ladies. Nay, 'tis true

Volum. Looke, here's a Letter from him, the State hath another, his
Wife another, and (I thinke) there's one at home for you

Menen. I will make my very house reele to night: A Letter for me?

Virgil. Yes certaine, there's a Letter for you, I saw't

Menen. A Letter for me? it giues me an Estate of seuen yeeres
health; in which time, I will make a Lippe at the Physician: The most
soueraigne Prescription in Galen, is but Emperickqutique; and to this
Preseruatiue, of no better report then a Horse-drench. Is he not
wounded? he was wont to come home wounded?

Virgil. Oh no, no, no

Volum. Oh, he is wounded, I thanke the Gods for't

Menen. So doe I too, if it be not too much: brings a Victorie in his
Pocket? the wounds become him

Volum. On's Browes: Menenius, hee comes the third time home with the
Oaken Garland

Menen. Ha's he disciplin'd Auffidius soundly?   Volum. Titus Lartius
writes, they fought together, but Auffidius got off

Menen. And 'twas time for him too, Ile warrant him that: and he had
stay'd by him, I would not haue been so fiddious'd, for all the Chests
in Carioles, and the Gold that's in them. Is the Senate possest of
this?   Volum. Good Ladies let's goe. Yes, yes, yes: The Senate ha's
Letters from the Generall, wherein hee giues my Sonne the whole Name of
the Warre: he hath in this action out-done his former deeds doubly

Valer. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him

Menen. Wondrous: I, I warrant you, and not without his true
purchasing

Virgil. The Gods graunt them true

Volum. True? pow waw

Mene. True? Ile be sworne they are true: where is hee wounded, God
saue your good Worships? Martius is comming home: hee ha's more cause
to be prowd: where is he wounded?

Volum. Ith' Shoulder, and ith' left Arme: there will be large
Cicatrices to shew the People, when hee shall stand for his place: he
receiued in the repulse of Tarquin seuen hurts ith' Body

Mene. One ith' Neck, and two ith' Thigh, there's nine that I know

Volum. Hee had, before this last Expedition, twentie fiue Wounds
vpon him

Mene. Now it's twentie seuen; euery gash was an Enemies Graue.
Hearke, the Trumpets.

A showt, and flourish.

Volum. These are the Vshers of Martius: Before him, hee carryes
Noyse;

And behinde him, hee leaues Teares:

Death, that darke Spirit, in's neruie Arme doth lye, Which being
aduanc'd, declines, and then men dye.

A Sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius the Generall, and Titus
Latius:

betweene them Coriolanus, crown'd with an Oaken Garland, with Captaines
and

Souldiers, and a Herauld.

Herauld. Know Rome, that all alone Martius did fight Within Corioles
Gates: where he hath wonne, With Fame, a Name to Martius Caius:

These in honor followes Martius Caius Coriolanus. Welcome to Rome,
renowned Coriolanus.

Sound. Flourish.

All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus

Coriol. No more of this, it does offend my heart: pray now no more

Com. Looke, Sir, your Mother

Coriol. Oh! you haue, I know, petition'd all the Gods for my
prosperitie.

Kneeles.

Volum. Nay, my good Souldier, vp:

My gentle Martius, worthy Caius,

And by deed-atchieuing Honor newly nam'd, What is it (Coriolanus) must
I call thee? But oh, thy Wife

Corio. My gracious silence, hayle:

Would'st thou haue laugh'd, had I come Coffin'd home, That weep'st to
see me triumph? Ah my deare, Such eyes the Widowes in Carioles were,

And Mothers that lacke Sonnes

Mene. Now the Gods Crowne thee

Com. And liue you yet? Oh my sweet Lady, pardon

Volum. I know not where to turne.

Oh welcome home: and welcome Generall,

And y'are welcome all

Mene. A hundred thousand Welcomes:

I could weepe, and I could laugh,

I am light, and heauie; 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 haue

Some old Crab-trees here at home,

That will not be grafted to your Rallish. Yet welcome Warriors:

Wee call a Nettle, but a Nettle;

And the faults of fooles, but folly

Com. Euer right

Cor. Menenius, euer, euer

Herauld. Giue way there, and goe on

Cor. Your Hand, and yours?

Ere in our owne house I doe shade my Head, The good Patricians must be
visited,

From whom I haue receiu'd not onely greetings, But with them, change of
Honors

Volum. I haue liued,

To see inherited my very Wishes,

And the Buildings of my Fancie:

Onely there's one thing wanting,

Which (I doubt not) but our Rome

Will cast vpon thee

Cor. Know, good Mother,

I had rather be their seruant in my way,

Then sway with them in theirs

Com. On, to the Capitall.

Flourish. Cornets.

Exeunt. in State, as before.

Enter Brutus and Scicinius

Bru. All tongues speake of him, and the bleared sights Are spectacled
to see him. Your pratling Nurse Into a rapture lets her Baby crie,

While she chats him: the Kitchin Malkin pinnes Her richest Lockram
'bout her reechie necke, Clambring the Walls to eye him:

Stalls, Bulkes, Windowes, are smother'd vp, Leades fill'd, and Ridges
hors'd

With variable Complexions; all agreeing

In earnestnesse to see him: seld-showne Flamins Doe presse among the
popular Throngs, and puffe To winne a vulgar station: our veyl'd Dames
Commit the Warre of White and Damaske

In their nicely gawded Cheekes, toth' wanton spoyle Of Phoebus burning
Kisses: such a poother, As if that whatsoeuer God, who leades him, Were
slyly crept into his humane powers,

And gaue him gracefull posture

Scicin. On the suddaine, I warrant him Consull

Brutus. Then our Office may, during his power, goe sleepe

Scicin. He cannot temp'rately transport his Honors, From where he
should begin, and end, but will Lose those he hath wonne

Brutus. In that there's comfort

Scici. Doubt not,

The Commoners, for whom we stand, but they Vpon their ancient mallice,
will forget

With the least cause, these his new Honors, Which that he will giue
them, make I as little question, As he is prowd to doo't

Brutus. I heard him sweare,

Were he to stand for Consull, neuer would he Appeare i'th' Market
place, nor on him put The Naples Vesture of Humilitie,

Nor shewing (as the manner is) his Wounds Toth' People, begge their
stinking Breaths

Scicin. 'Tis right

Brutus. It was his word:

Oh he would misse it, rather then carry it, But by the suite of the
Gentry to him,

And the desire of the Nobles

Scicin. I wish no better, then haue him hold that purpose, and to
put it in execution

Brutus. 'Tis most like he will

Scicin. 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 Haue made them Mules, silenc'd their Pleaders,
And dispropertied their Freedomes; holding them, In humane Action, and
Capacitie,

Of no more Soule, nor fitnesse for the World, Then Cammels in their
Warre, who haue their Prouand Onely for bearing Burthens, and sore
blowes For sinking vnder them

Scicin. This (as you say) suggested,

At some time, when his soaring Insolence

Shall teach the People, which time shall not want, If he be put vpon't,
and that's as easie, As to set Dogges on Sheepe, will be his fire To
kindle their dry Stubble: and their Blaze Shall darken him for euer.

Enter a Messenger.

Brutus. What's the matter?

Mess. You are sent for to the Capitoll: 'Tis thought, that Martius
shall be Consull: I haue seene the dumbe men throng to see him, And the
blind to heare him speak: Matrons flong Gloues, Ladies and Maids their
Scarffes, and Handkerchers, Vpon him as he pass'd: the Nobles bended

As to Ioues Statue, and the Commons made

A Shower, and Thunder, with their Caps, and Showts: I neuer saw the
like

Brutus. Let's to the Capitoll,

And carry with vs Eares and Eyes for th' time, But Hearts for the
euent

Scicin. Haue with you.

Exeunt.

Enter two Officers, to lay Cushions, as it were, in the Capitoll.

1.Off. Come, come, they are almost here: how many stand for
Consulships?

2.Off. Three, they say: but 'tis thought of euery one, Coriolanus
will carry it

1.Off. That's a braue fellow: but hee's vengeance prowd, and loues
not the common people

2.Off. 'Faith, there hath beene many great men that haue flatter'd
the people, who ne're loued them; and there be many that they haue
loued, they know not wherefore: so that if they loue they know not why,
they hate vpon no better a ground. Therefore, for Coriolanus neyther to
care whether they loue, or hate him, manifests the true knowledge he
ha's in their disposition, and out of his Noble carelesnesse lets them
plainely see't

1.Off. If he did not care whether he had their loue, or no, hee
waued indifferently, 'twixt doing them neyther good, nor harme: but hee
seekes their hate with greater deuotion, then they can render it him;
and leaues nothing vndone, that may fully discouer him their opposite.
Now to seeme to affect the mallice and displeasure of the People, is as
bad, as that which he dislikes, to flatter them for their loue

2.Off. Hee hath deserued worthily of his Countrey, and his assent is
not by such easie degrees as those, who hauing beene supple and
courteous to the People, Bonnetted, without any further deed, to haue
them at all into their estimation, and report: but hee hath so planted
his Honors in their Eyes, and his actions in their Hearts, that for
their Tongues to be silent, and not confesse so much, were a kinde of
ingratefull Iniurie: to report otherwise, were a Mallice, that giuing
it selfe the Lye, would plucke reproofe and rebuke from euery Eare that
heard it

1.Off. No more of him, hee's a worthy man: make way, they are
comming.

A Sennet. Enter the Patricians, and the Tribunes of the People,
Lictors

before them: Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius the Consul: Scicinius and

Brutus take their places by themselues: Coriolanus stands.

Menen. Hauing determin'd of the Volces, And to send for Titus
Lartius: it remaines, As the maine Point of this our after-meeting, To
gratifie his Noble seruice, that hath

Thus stood for his Countrey. Therefore please you, Most reuerend and
graue Elders, to desire The present Consull, and last Generall,

In our well-found Successes, to report

A little of that worthy Worke, perform'd

By Martius Caius Coriolanus: whom

We met here, both to thanke, and to remember, With Honors like
himselfe

1.Sen. Speake, good Cominius:

Leaue nothing out for length, and make vs thinke Rather our states
defectiue for requitall, Then we to stretch it out. Masters a'th'
People, We doe request your kindest eares: and after Your louing motion
toward the common Body, To yeeld what passes here

Scicin. We are conuented vpon a pleasing Treatie, and haue hearts
inclinable to honor and aduance the Theame of our Assembly

Brutus. Which the rather wee shall be blest to doe, if he remember a
kinder value of the People, then he hath hereto priz'd them at

Menen. That's off, that's off: I would you rather had been silent:
Please you to heare Cominius speake?   Brutus. Most willingly: but yet
my Caution was more pertinent then the rebuke you giue it

Menen. He loues your People, but tye him not to be their Bed-fellow:
Worthie Cominius speake.

Coriolanus rises, and offers to goe away.

Nay, keepe your place

Senat. Sit Coriolanus: neuer shame to heare What you haue Nobly
done

Coriol. Your Honors pardon:

I had rather haue my Wounds to heale againe, Then heare say how I got
them

Brutus. Sir, I hope my words dis-bench'd you not?   Coriol. No Sir:
yet oft,

When blowes haue made me stay, I fled from words. You sooth'd not,
therefore hurt not: but your People, I loue them as they weigh-

Menen. Pray now sit downe

Corio. I had rather haue one scratch my Head i'th' Sun, When the
Alarum were strucke, then idly sit To heare my Nothings monster'd.

Exit Coriolanus

Menen. Masters of the People,

Your multiplying Spawne, how can he flatter? That's thousand to one
good one, when you now see He had rather venture all his Limbes for
Honor, Then on ones Eares to heare it. Proceed Cominius

Com. I shall lacke voyce: the deeds of Coriolanus Should not be
vtter'd feebly: it is held, That Valour is the chiefest Vertue,

And most dignifies the hauer: if it be,

The man I speake of, cannot in the World

Be singly counter-poys'd. At sixteene yeeres, When Tarquin made a Head
for Rome, he fought Beyond the marke of others: our then Dictator, Whom
with all prayse I point at, saw him fight, When with his Amazonian
Shinne he droue

The brizled Lippes before him: he bestrid An o're-prest Roman, and
i'th' Consuls view Slew three Opposers: Tarquins selfe he met, And
strucke him on his Knee: in that dayes feates, When he might act the
Woman in the Scene, He prou'd best man i'th' field, and for his meed
Was Brow-bound with the Oake. His Pupill age Man-entred thus, he waxed
like a Sea,

And in the brunt of seuenteene Battailes since, He lurcht all Swords of
the Garland: for this last, Before, and in Corioles, let me say

I cannot speake him home: he stopt the flyers, And by his rare example
made the Coward

Turne terror into sport: as Weeds before

A Vessell vnder sayle, so men obey'd,

And fell below his Stem: his Sword, Deaths stampe, Where it did marke,
it tooke from face to foot: He was a thing of Blood, whose euery motion
Was tim'd with dying Cryes: alone he entred The mortall Gate of th'
Citie, which he painted With shunlesse destinie: aydelesse came off,
And with a sudden re-inforcement strucke

Carioles like a Planet: now all's his,

When by and by the dinne of Warre gan pierce His readie sence: then
straight his doubled spirit Requickned what in flesh was fatigate,

And to the Battaile came he, where he did Runne reeking o're the liues
of men, as if 'twere A perpetuall spoyle: and till we call'd

Both Field and Citie ours, he neuer stood To ease his Brest with
panting

Menen. Worthy man

Senat. He cannot but with measure fit the Honors which we deuise
him

Com. Our spoyles he kickt at,

And look'd vpon things precious, as they were The common Muck of the
World: he couets lesse Then Miserie it selfe would giue, rewards his
deeds With doing them, and is content

To spend the time, to end it

Menen. Hee's right Noble, let him be call'd for

Senat. Call Coriolanus

Off. He doth appeare.

Enter Coriolanus.

Menen. The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd to make thee Consull

Corio. I doe owe them still my Life, and Seruices

Menen. It then remaines, that you doe speake to the People

Corio. I doe beseech you,

Let me o're-leape that custome: for I cannot Put on the Gowne, stand
naked, and entreat them For my Wounds sake, to giue their sufferage:
Please you that I may passe this doing

Scicin. Sir, the People must haue their Voyces, Neyther will they
bate one iot of Ceremonie

Menen. Put them not too't:

Pray you goe fit you to the Custome,

And take to you, as your Predecessors haue, Your Honor with your forme

Corio. It is a part that I shall blush in acting, And might well be
taken from the People

Brutus. Marke you that

Corio. To brag vnto them, thus I did, and thus Shew them th' vnaking
Skarres, which I should hide, As if I had receiu'd them for the hyre

Of their breath onely

Menen. Doe not stand vpon't:

We recommend to you Tribunes of the People Our purpose to them, and to
our Noble Consull Wish we all Ioy, and Honor

Senat. To Coriolanus come all ioy and Honor. Flourish Cornets. Then
Exeunt. Manet Sicinius and Brutus.

Bru. You see how he intends to vse the people

Scicin. May they perceiue's intent: he wil require them As if he did
contemne what he requested,

Should be in them to giue

Bru. Come, wee'l informe them

Of our proceedings heere on th' Market place, I know they do attend
vs.

Enter seuen or eight Citizens.

1.Cit. Once if he do require our voyces, wee ought not to deny him

2.Cit. We may Sir if we will

3.Cit. We haue power in our selues to do it, but it is a power that
we haue no power to do: For, if hee shew vs his wounds, and tell vs his
deeds, we are to put our tongues into those wounds, and speake for
them: So if he tel vs his Noble deeds, we must also tell him our Noble
acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous, and for the multitude to
be ingratefull, were to make a Monster of the multitude; of the which,
we being members, should bring our selues to be monstrous members

1.Cit. And to make vs no better thought of a little helpe will
serue: for once we stood vp about the Corne, he himselfe stucke not to
call vs the many-headed Multitude

3.Cit. We haue beene call'd so of many, not that our heads are some
browne, some blacke, some Abram, some bald; but that our wits are so
diuersly Coulord; and truely I thinke, if all our wittes were to issue
out of one Scull, they would flye East, West, North, South, and their
consent of one direct way, should be at once to all the points a'th
Compasse

2.Cit. Thinke you so? Which way do you iudge my wit would flye

3.Cit. Nay your wit will not so soone out as another mans will, 'tis
strongly wadg'd vp in a blocke-head: but if it were at liberty, 'twould
sure Southward

2 Cit. Why that way?

3 Cit. To loose it selfe in a Fogge, where being three parts melted
away with rotten Dewes, the fourth would returne for Conscience sake,
to helpe to get thee a Wife

2 Cit. You are neuer without your trickes, you may, you may

3 Cit. Are you all resolu'd to giue your voyces? But that's no
matter, the greater part carries it, I say. If hee would incline to the
people, there was neuer a worthier man.

Enter Coriolanus in a gowne of Humility, with Menenius.

Heere he comes, and in the Gowne of humility, marke his behauiour: we
are not to stay altogether, but to come by him where he stands, by
ones, by twoes, & by threes. He's to make his requests by particulars,
wherein euerie one of vs ha's a single Honor, in giuing him our own
voices with our owne tongues, therefore follow me, and Ile direct you
how you shall go by him

All. Content, content

Men. Oh Sir, you are not right: haue you not knowne The worthiest
men haue done't?

Corio. What must I say, I pray Sir?

Plague vpon't, I cannot bring

My tongue to such a pace. Looke Sir, my wounds, I got them in my
Countries Seruice, when

Some certaine of your Brethren roar'd, and ranne From th' noise of our
owne Drummes

Menen. Oh me the Gods, you must not speak of that, You must desire
them to thinke vpon you

Coriol. Thinke vpon me? Hang 'em,

I would they would forget me, like the Vertues Which our Diuines lose
by em

Men. You'l marre all,

Ile leaue you: Pray you speake to em, I pray you In wholsome manner.

Exit

Enter three of the Citizens.

Corio. Bid them wash their Faces,

And keepe their teeth cleane: So, heere comes a brace, You know the
cause (Sir) of my standing heere

3 Cit. We do Sir, tell vs what hath brought you too't

Corio. Mine owne desert

2 Cit. Your owne desert

Corio. I, but mine owne desire

3 Cit. How not your owne desire?

Corio. No Sir, 'twas neuer my desire yet to trouble the poore with
begging

3 Cit. You must thinke if we giue you any thing, we hope to gaine by
you

Corio. Well then I pray, your price a'th' Consulship

1 Cit. The price is, to aske it kindly

Corio. Kindly sir, I pray let me ha't: I haue wounds to shew you,
which shall bee yours in priuate: your good voice sir, what say you?

2 Cit. You shall ha't worthy Sir

Corio. A match Sir, there's in all two worthie voyces begg'd: I haue
your Almes, Adieu

3 Cit. But this is something odde

2 Cit. And 'twere to giue againe: but 'tis no matter.

Exeunt. Enter two other Citizens.

Coriol. Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices,
that I may bee Consull, I haue heere the Customarie Gowne

1. You haue deserued Nobly of your Countrey, and you haue not
deserued Nobly

Coriol. Your aenigma

1. You haue bin a scourge to her enemies, you haue bin a Rod to her
Friends, you haue not indeede loued the Common people

Coriol. You should account mee the more Vertuous, that I haue not
bin common in my Loue, I will sir flatter my sworne Brother the people
to earne a deerer estimation of them, 'tis a condition they account
gentle: & since the wisedome of their choice, is rather to haue my Hat,
then my Heart, I will practice the insinuating nod, and be off to them
most counterfetly, that is sir, I will counterfet the bewitchment of
some popular man, and giue it bountifull to the desirers: Therefore
beseech you, I may be Consull

2. Wee hope to finde you our friend: and therefore giue you our
voices heartily

1. You haue receyued many wounds for your Countrey

Coriol. I wil not Seale your knowledge with shewing them. I will
make much of your voyces, and so trouble you no farther

Both. The Gods giue you ioy Sir heartily

Coriol. Most sweet Voyces:

Better it is to dye, better to sterue,

Then craue the higher, which first we do deserue. Why in this Wooluish
tongue should I stand heere, To begge of Hob and Dicke, that does
appeere Their needlesse Vouches: Custome calls me too't. What Custome
wills in all things, should we doo't? The Dust on antique Time would
lye vnswept, And mountainous Error be too highly heapt, For Truth to
o're-peere. Rather then foole it so, Let the high Office and the Honor
go

To one that would doe thus. I am halfe through, The one part suffered,
the other will I doe. Enter three Citizens more.

Here come moe Voyces.

Your Voyces? for your Voyces I haue sought, Watcht for your Voyces: for
your Voyces, beare Of Wounds, two dozen odde: Battailes thrice six I
haue seene, and heard of: for your Voyces, Haue done many things, some
lesse, some more: Your Voyces? Indeed I would be Consull

1.Cit. Hee ha's done Nobly, and cannot goe without any honest mans
Voyce

2.Cit. Therefore let him be Consull: the Gods giue him ioy, and make
him good friend to the People

All. Amen, Amen. God saue thee, Noble Consull

Corio. Worthy Voyces.

Enter Menenius, with Brutus and Scicinius.

Mene. You haue stood your Limitation:

And the Tribunes endue you with the Peoples Voyce, Remaines, that in
th' Officiall Markes inuested, You anon doe meet the Senate

Corio. Is this done?

Scicin. The Custome of Request you haue discharg'd: The People doe
admit you, and are summon'd To meet anon, vpon your approbation

Corio. Where? at the Senate-house?

Scicin. There, Coriolanus

Corio. May I change these Garments?

Scicin. You may, Sir

Cori. That Ile straight do: and knowing my selfe again, Repayre
toth' Senatehouse

Mene. Ile keepe you company. Will you along?   Brut. We stay here
for the People

Scicin. Fare you well.

Exeunt. Coriol. and Mene.

He ha's it now: and by his Lookes, me thinkes, 'Tis warme at's heart

Brut. With a prowd heart he wore his humble Weeds: Will you dismisse
the People?

Enter the Plebeians.

Scici. How now, my Masters, haue you chose this man?   1.Cit. He ha's
our Voyces, Sir

Brut. We pray the Gods, he may deserue your loues

2.Cit. Amen, Sir: to my poore vnworthy notice, He mock'd vs, when he
begg'd our Voyces

3.Cit. Certainely, he flowted vs downe-right

1.Cit. No, 'tis his kind of speech, he did not mock vs

2.Cit. Not one amongst vs, saue your selfe, but sayes He vs'd vs
scornefully: he should haue shew'd vs His Marks of Merit, Wounds
receiu'd for's Countrey

Scicin. Why so he did, I am sure

All. No, no: no man saw 'em

3.Cit. Hee said hee had Wounds,

Which he could shew in priuate:

And with his Hat, thus wauing it in scorne, I would be Consull, sayes
he: aged Custome, But by your Voyces, will not so permit me. Your
Voyces therefore: when we graunted that, Here was, I thanke you for
your Voyces, thanke you Your most sweet Voyces: now you haue left your
Voyces, I haue no further with you. Was not this mockerie?   Scicin.
Why eyther were you ignorant to see't? Or seeing it, of such Childish
friendlinesse, To yeeld your Voyces?

Brut. Could you not haue told him,

As you were lesson'd: When he had no Power, But was a pettie seruant to
the State,

He was your Enemie, euer spake against

Your Liberties, and the Charters that you beare I'th' Body of the
Weale: and now arriuing A place of Potencie, and sway o'th' State, If
he should still malignantly remaine

Fast Foe toth' Plebeij, your Voyces might Be Curses to your selues. You
should haue said, That as his worthy deeds did clayme no lesse Then
what he stood for: so his gracious nature Would thinke vpon you, for
your Voyces,

And translate his Mallice towards you, into Loue, Standing your
friendly Lord

Scicin. Thus to haue said,

As you were fore-aduis'd, had toucht his Spirit, And try'd his
Inclination: from him pluckt Eyther his gracious Promise, which you
might As cause had call'd you vp, haue held him to; Or else it would
haue gall'd his surly nature, Which easily endures not Article,

Tying him to ought, so putting him to Rage, You should haue ta'ne th'
aduantage of his Choller, And pass'd him vnelected

Brut. Did you perceiue,

He did sollicite you in free Contempt,

When he did need your Loues: and doe you thinke, That his Contempt
shall not be brusing to you, When he hath power to crush? Why, had your
Bodyes No Heart among you? Or had you Tongues, to cry Against the
Rectorship of Iudgement?

Scicin. Haue you, ere now, deny'd the asker: And now againe, of him
that did not aske, but mock, Bestow your su'd-for Tongues?

3.Cit. Hee's not confirm'd, we may deny him yet

2.Cit. And will deny him:

Ile haue fiue hundred Voyces of that sound

1.Cit. I twice fiue hundred, & their friends, to piece 'em

Brut. Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends, They haue
chose a Consull, that will from them take Their Liberties, make them of
no more Voyce Then Dogges, that are as often beat for barking, As
therefore kept to doe so

Scici. Let them assemble: and on a safer Iudgement, All reuoke your
ignorant election: Enforce his Pride, And his old Hate vnto you:
besides, forget not With what Contempt he wore the humble Weed, How in
his Suit he scorn'd you: but your Loues, Thinking vpon his Seruices,
tooke from you Th' apprehension of his present portance, Which most
gibingly, vngrauely, he did fashion After the inueterate Hate he beares
you

Brut. Lay a fault on vs, your Tribunes, That we labour'd (no
impediment betweene) But that you must cast your Election on him

Scici. Say you chose him, more after our commandment, Then as guided
by your owne true affections, and that Your Minds pre-occupy'd with
what you rather must do, Then what you should, made you against the
graine To Voyce him Consull. Lay the fault on vs

Brut. I, spare vs not: Say, we read Lectures to you, How youngly he
began to serue his Countrey, How long continued, and what stock he
springs of, The Noble House o'th'Martians: from whence came That Ancus
Martius, Numaes Daughters Sonne: Who after great Hostilius here was
King,

Of the same House Publius and Quintus were, That our best Water,
brought by Conduits hither, And Nobly nam'd, so twice being Censor,

Was his great Ancestor

Scicin. 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 haue found, Skaling his present bearing
with his past, That hee's your fixed enemie; and reuoke

Your suddaine approbation

Brut. Say you ne're had don't,

(Harpe on that still) but by our putting on: And presently, when you
haue drawne your number, Repaire toth' Capitoll

All. We will so: almost all repent in their election.

Exeunt. Plebeians.

Brut. Let them goe on:

This Mutinie were better put in hazard,

Then stay past doubt, for greater:

If, as his nature is, he fall in rage

With their refusall, both obserue and answer The vantage of his anger

Scicin. Toth' Capitoll, come:

We will be there before the streame o'th' People: And this shall seeme,
as partly 'tis, their owne, Which we haue goaded on-ward.

Exeunt.



Actus Tertius.

Cornets. Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, all the Gentry, Cominius, Titus

Latius, and other Senators.

Corio. Tullus Auffidius then had made new head

Latius. He had, my Lord, and that it was which caus'd Our swifter
Composition

Corio. So then the Volces stand but as at first, Readie when time
shall prompt them, to make roade Vpon's againe

Com. They are worne (Lord Consull) so, That we shall hardly in our
ages see

Their Banners waue againe

Corio. Saw you Auffidius?

Latius. On safegard he came to me, and did curse Against the Volces,
for they had so vildly Yeelded the Towne: he is retyred to Antium

Corio. Spoke he of me?

Latius. He did, my Lord

Corio. How? what?

Latius. How often he had met you Sword to Sword: That of all things
vpon the Earth, he hated Your person most: That he would pawne his
fortunes To hopelesse restitution, so he might

Be call'd your Vanquisher

Corio. At Antium liues he?

Latius. At Antium

Corio. I wish I had a cause to seeke him there, To oppose his hatred
fully. Welcome home. Enter Scicinius and Brutus.

Behold, these are the Tribunes of the People, The Tongues o'th' Common
Mouth. I do despise them: For they doe pranke them in Authoritie,

Against all Noble sufferance

Scicin. Passe no further

Cor. Hah? what is that?

Brut. It will be dangerous to goe on- No further

Corio. What makes this change?

Menen. The matter?

Com. Hath he not pass'd the Noble, and the Common?   Brut. Cominius,
no

Corio. Haue I had Childrens Voyces?

Senat. Tribunes giue way, he shall toth' Market place

Brut. The People are incens'd against him

Scicin. Stop, or all will fall in broyle

Corio. Are these your Heard?

Must these haue Voyces, that can yeeld them now, And straight disclaim
their toungs? what are your Offices? You being their Mouthes, why rule
you not their Teeth? Haue you not set them on?

Mene. Be calme, be calme

Corio. It is a purpos'd thing, and growes by Plot, To curbe the will
of the Nobilitie:

Suffer't, and liue with such as cannot rule, Nor euer will be ruled

Brut. Call't not a Plot:

The People cry you mockt them: and of late, When Corne was giuen them
gratis, you repin'd, Scandal'd the Suppliants: for the People, call'd
them Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to Noblenesse

Corio. Why this was knowne before

Brut. Not to them all

Corio. Haue you inform'd them sithence?   Brut. How? I informe
them?

Com. You are like to doe such businesse

Brut. Not vnlike each way to better yours

Corio. Why then should I be Consull? by yond Clouds Let me deserue
so ill as you, and make me Your fellow Tribune

Scicin. You shew too much of that,

For which the People stirre: if you will passe To where you are bound,
you must enquire your way, Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit,
Or neuer be so Noble as a Consull,

Nor yoake with him for Tribune

Mene. Let's be calme

Com. The People are abus'd: set on, this paltring Becomes not Rome:
nor ha's Coriolanus

Deseru'd this so dishonor'd Rub, layd falsely I'th' plaine Way of his
Merit

Corio. Tell me of Corne: this was my speech, And I will speak't
againe

Mene. Not now, not now

Senat. Not in this heat, Sir, now

Corio. Now as I liue, I will.

My Nobler friends, I craue their pardons: For the mutable ranke-sented
Meynie,

Let them regard me, as I doe not flatter, And therein behold
themselues: I say againe, In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our
Senate The Cockle of Rebellion, Insolence, Sedition, Which we our
selues haue plowed for, sow'd, & scatter'd, By mingling them with vs,
the honor'd Number, Who lack not Vertue, no, nor Power, but that Which
they haue giuen to Beggers

Mene. Well, no more

Senat. No more words, we beseech you

Corio. How? no more?

As for my Country, I haue shed my blood,

Not fearing outward force: So shall my Lungs Coine words till their
decay, against those Meazels Which we disdaine should Tetter vs, yet
sought The very way to catch them

Bru. You speake a'th' people, as if you were a God, To punish; Not a
man, of their Infirmity

Sicin. 'Twere well we let the people know't

Mene. What, what? His Choller?

Cor. Choller? Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, By Ioue,
'twould be my minde

Sicin. It is a minde that shall remain a poison Where it is: not
poyson any further

Corio. Shall remaine?

Heare you this Triton of the Minnoues? Marke you His absolute Shall?

Com. 'Twas from the Cannon

Cor. Shall? O God! but most vnwise Patricians: why You graue, but
wreaklesse Senators, haue you thus Giuen Hidra heere to choose an
Officer,

That with his peremptory Shall, being but The horne, and noise o'th'
Monsters, wants not spirit To say, hee'l turne your Current in a ditch,
And make your Channell his? If he haue power, Then vale your Ignorance:
If none, awake

Your dangerous Lenity: If you are Learn'd, Be not as common Fooles; if
you are not,

Let them haue Cushions by you. You are Plebeians, If they be Senators:
and they are no lesse, When both your voices blended, the great'st
taste Most pallates theirs. They choose their Magistrate, And such a
one as he, who puts his Shall, His popular Shall, against a grauer
Bench Then euer frown'd in Greece. By Ioue himselfe, It makes the
Consuls base; and my Soule akes To know, when two Authorities are vp,

Neither Supreame; How soone Confusion

May enter 'twixt the gap of Both, and take The one by th' other

Com. Well, on to'th' Market place

Corio. Who euer gaue that Counsell, to giue forth The Corne a'th'
Store-house gratis, as 'twas vs'd Sometime in Greece

Mene. Well, well, no more of that

Cor. Thogh there the people had more absolute powre I say they
norisht disobedience: fed, the ruin of the State

Bru. Why shall the people giue

One that speakes thus, their voyce?

Corio. Ile giue my Reasons,

More worthier then their Voyces. They know the Corne Was not our
recompence, resting well assur'd They ne're did seruice for't; being
prest to'th' Warre, Euen when the Nauell of the State was touch'd, They
would not thred the Gates: This kinde of Seruice Did not deserue Corne
gratis. Being i'th' Warre, There Mutinies and Reuolts, wherein they
shew'd Most Valour spoke not for them. Th' Accusation Which they haue
often made against the Senate, All cause vnborne, could neuer be the
Natiue Of our so franke Donation. Well, what then? How shall this
Bosome-multiplied, digest

The Senates Courtesie? Let deeds expresse What's like to be their
words, We did request it, We are the greater pole, and in true feare
They gaue vs our demands. Thus we debase

The Nature of our Seats, and make the Rabble Call our Cares, Feares;
which will in time Breake ope the Lockes a'th' Senate, and bring in The
Crowes to pecke the Eagles

Mene. Come enough

Bru. Enough, with ouer measure

Corio. No, take more.

What may be sworne by, both Diuine and Humane, Seale what I end
withall. This double worship, Whereon part do's disdaine with cause,
the other Insult without all reason: where Gentry, Title, wisedom
Cannot conclude, but by the yea and no

Of generall Ignorance, it must omit

Reall Necessities, and giue way the while To vnstable Slightnesse.
Purpose so barr'd, it followes, Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore
beseech you, You that will be lesse fearefull, then discreet, That loue
the Fundamentall part of State

More then you doubt the change on't: That preferre A Noble life, before
a Long, and Wish,

To iumpe a Body with a dangerous Physicke, That's sure of death without
it: at once plucke out The Multitudinous Tongue, let them not licke The
sweet which is their poyson. Your dishonor Mangles true iudgement, and
bereaues the State Of that Integrity which should becom't:

Not hauing the power to do the good it would For th' ill which doth
controul't

Bru. Has said enough

Sicin. Ha's spoken like a Traitor, and shall answer As Traitors do

Corio. Thou wretch, despight ore-whelme thee: What should the people
do with these bald Tribunes? On whom depending, their obedience failes
To'th' greater Bench, in a Rebellion:

When what's not meet, but what must be, was Law, Then were they chosen:
in a better houre, Let what is meet, be saide it must be meet, And
throw their power i'th' dust

Bru. Manifest Treason

Sicin. This a Consull? No.

Enter an aedile.

Bru. The Ediles hoe: Let him be apprehended:   Sicin. Go call the
people, in whose name my Selfe Attach thee as a Traitorous Innouator:

A Foe to'th' publike Weale. Obey I charge thee, And follow to thine
answer

Corio. Hence old Goat

All. Wee'l Surety him

Com. Ag'd sir, hands off

Corio. Hence rotten thing, or I shall shake thy bones Out of thy
Garments

Sicin. Helpe ye Citizens.

Enter a rabble of Plebeians with the Aediles.

Mene. On both sides more respect

Sicin. Heere's hee, that would take from you all your power

Bru. Seize him Aediles

All. Downe with him, downe with him

2 Sen. Weapons, weapons, weapons:

They all bustle about Coriolanus.

Tribunes, Patricians, Citizens: what ho:

Sicinius, Brutus, Coriolanus, Citizens

All. Peace, peace, peace, stay, hold, peace

Mene. What is about to be? I am out of Breath, Confusions neere, I
cannot speake. You, Tribunes To'th' people: Coriolanus, patience: Speak
good Sicinius

Scici. Heare me, People peace

All. Let's here our Tribune: peace, speake, speake, speake

Scici. You are at point to lose your Liberties: Martius would haue
all from you; Martius, Whom late you haue nam'd for Consull

Mene. Fie, fie, fie, this is the way to kindle, not to quench

Sena. To vnbuild the Citie, and to lay all flat

Scici. What is the Citie, but the People?   All. True, the People
are the Citie

Brut. By the consent of all, we were establish'd the Peoples
Magistrates

All. You so remaine

Mene. And so are like to doe

Com. That is the way to lay the Citie flat, To bring the Roofe to
the Foundation,

And burie all, which yet distinctly raunges In heapes, and piles of
Ruine

Scici. This deserues Death

Brut. Or let vs stand to our Authoritie, Or let vs lose it: we doe
here pronounce, Vpon the part o'th' People, in whose power We were
elected theirs, Martius is worthy Of present Death

Scici. Therefore lay hold of him:

Beare him toth' Rock Tarpeian, and from thence Into destruction cast
him

Brut. aediles seize him

All Ple. Yeeld Martius, yeeld

Mene. Heare me one word, 'beseech you Tribunes, heare me but a word

Aediles. Peace, peace

Mene. Be that you seeme, truly your Countries friend, And
temp'rately proceed to what you would Thus violently redresse

Brut. Sir, those cold wayes,

That seeme like prudent helpes, are very poysonous, Where the Disease
is violent. Lay hands vpon him, And beare him to the Rock.

Corio. drawes his Sword.

Corio. No, Ile die here:

There's some among you haue beheld me fighting, Come trie vpon your
selues, what you haue seene me

Mene. Downe with that Sword, Tribunes withdraw a while

Brut. Lay hands vpon him

Mene. Helpe Martius, helpe: you that be noble, helpe him young and
old

All. Downe with him, downe with him.

Exeunt.

In this Mutinie, the Tribunes, the aediles, and the People are beat
in.

Mene. Goe, get you to our House: be gone, away. All will be naught
else

2.Sena. Get you gone

Com. Stand fast, we haue as many friends as enemies

Mene. Shall it be put to that?

Sena. The Gods forbid:

I prythee noble friend, home to thy House, Leaue vs to cure this Cause

Mene. For 'tis a Sore vpon vs,

You cannot Tent your selfe: be gone, 'beseech you

Corio. Come Sir, along with vs

Mene. I would they were Barbarians, as they are, Though in Rome
litter'd: not Romans, as they are not, Though calued i'th' Porch o'th'
Capitoll: Be gone, put not your worthy Rage into your Tongue, One time
will owe another

Corio. On faire ground, I could beat fortie of them

Mene. I could my selfe take vp a Brace o'th' best of them, yea, the
two Tribunes

Com. But now 'tis oddes beyond Arithmetick, And Manhood is call'd
Foolerie, when it stands Against a falling Fabrick. Will you hence,
Before the Tagge returne? whose Rage doth rend Like interrupted Waters,
and o're-beare

What they are vs'd to beare

Mene. Pray you be gone:

Ile trie whether my old Wit be in request With those that haue but
little: this must be patcht With Cloth of any Colour

Com. Nay, come away.

Exeunt. Coriolanus and Cominius.

Patri. This man ha's marr'd his fortune

Mene. His nature is too noble for the World: He would not flatter
Neptune for his Trident, Or Ioue, for's power to Thunder: his Heart's
his Mouth: What his Brest forges, that his Tongue must vent, And being
angry, does forget that euer

He heard the Name of Death.

A Noise within.

Here's goodly worke

Patri. I would they were a bed

Mene. I would they were in Tyber.

What the vengeance, could he not speake 'em faire? Enter Brutus and
Sicinius with the rabble againe.

Sicin. Where is this Viper,

That would depopulate the city, & be euery man himself   Mene. You
worthy Tribunes

Sicin. He shall be throwne downe the Tarpeian rock With rigorous
hands: he hath resisted Law, And therefore Law shall scorne him further
Triall Then the seuerity of the publike Power,

Which he so sets at naught

1 Cit. He shall well know the Noble Tribunes are The peoples mouths,
and we their hands

All. He shall sure ont

Mene. Sir, sir

Sicin. Peace

Me. Do not cry hauocke, where you shold but hunt With modest
warrant

Sicin. Sir, how com'st that you haue holpe To make this rescue?

Mene. Heere me speake? As I do know

The Consuls worthinesse, so can I name his Faults

Sicin. Consull? what Consull?

Mene. The Consull Coriolanus

Bru. He Consull

All. No, no, no, no, no

Mene. If by the Tribunes leaue,

And yours good people,

I may be heard, I would craue a word or two, The which shall turne you
to no further harme, Then so much losse of time

Sic. Speake breefely then,

For we are peremptory to dispatch

This Viporous Traitor: to eiect him hence Were but one danger, and to
keepe him heere Our certaine death: therefore it is decreed, He dyes to
night

Menen. Now the good Gods forbid,

That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude

Towards her deserued Children, is enroll'd In Ioues owne Booke, like an
vnnaturall Dam Should now eate vp her owne

Sicin. He's a Disease that must be cut away

Mene. Oh he's a Limbe, that ha's but a Disease Mortall, to cut it
off: to cure it, easie. What ha's he done to Rome, that's worthy death?
Killing our Enemies, the blood he hath lost (Which I dare vouch, is
more then that he hath By many an Ounce) he dropp'd it for his Country:
And what is left, to loose it by his Countrey, Were to vs all that
doo't, and suffer it

A brand to th' end a'th World

Sicin. This is cleane kamme

Brut. Meerely awry:

When he did loue his Country, it honour'd him

Menen. The seruice of the foote

Being once gangren'd, is not then respected For what before it was

Bru. Wee'l heare no more:

Pursue him to his house, and plucke him thence, Least his infection
being of catching nature, Spred further

Menen. One word more, one word:

This Tiger-footed-rage, when it shall find The harme of vnskan'd
swiftnesse, will (too late) Tye Leaden pounds too's heeles. Proceed by
Processe, Least parties (as he is belou'd) breake out, And sacke great
Rome with Romanes

Brut. If it were so?

Sicin. What do ye talke?

Haue we not had a taste of his Obedience? Our Ediles smot: our selues
resisted: come

Mene. Consider this: He ha's bin bred i'th' Warres Since a could
draw a Sword, and is ill-school'd In boulted Language: Meale and Bran
together He throwes without distinction. Giue me leaue, Ile go to him,
and vndertake to bring him in peace, Where he shall answer by a lawfull
Forme

(In peace) to his vtmost perill

1.Sen. Noble Tribunes,

It is the humane way: the other course

Will proue to bloody: and the end of it,

Vnknowne to the Beginning

Sic. Noble Menenius, be you then as the peoples officer: Masters,
lay downe your Weapons

Bru. Go not home

Sic. Meet on the Market place: wee'l attend you there: Where if you
bring not Martius, wee'l proceede In our first way

Menen. Ile bring him to you.

Let me desire your company: he must come, Or what is worst will follow

Sena. Pray you let's to him.

Exeunt. Omnes.

Enter Coriolanus with Nobles.

Corio. Let them pull all about mine eares, present me Death on the
Wheele, or at wilde Horses heeles, Or pile ten hilles on the Tarpeian
Rocke, That the precipitation might downe stretch Below the beame of
sight; yet will I still Be thus to them.

Enter Volumnia.

Noble. You do the Nobler

Corio. I muse my Mother

Do's not approue me further, who was wont To call them Wollen
Vassailes, things created To buy and sell with Groats, to shew bare
heads In Congregations, to yawne, be still, and wonder, When one but of
my ordinance stood vp

To speake of Peace, or Warre. I talke of you, Why did you wish me
milder? Would you haue me False to my Nature? Rather say, I play

The man I am

Volum. Oh sir, sir, sir,

I would haue had you put your power well on Before you had worne it
out

Corio. Let go

Vol. You might haue beene enough the man you are, With striuing
lesse to be so: Lesser had bin The things of your dispositions, if

You had not shew'd them how ye were dispos'd Ere they lack'd power to
crosse you

Corio. Let them hang

Volum. I, and burne too.

Enter Menenius with the Senators.

Men. Come, come, you haue bin too rough, somthing too rough: you must
returne, and mend it

Sen. There's no remedy,

Vnlesse by not so doing, our good Citie

Cleaue in the midd'st, and perish

Volum. Pray be counsail'd;

I haue a heart as little apt as yours,

But yet a braine, that leades my vse of Anger To better vantage

Mene. Well said, Noble woman:

Before he should thus stoope to'th' heart, but that The violent fit
a'th' time craues it as Physicke For the whole State; I would put mine
Armour on, Which I can scarsely beare

Corio. What must I do?

Mene. Returne to th' Tribunes

Corio. Well, what then? what then?

Mene. Repent, what you haue spoke

Corio. For them, I cannot do it to the Gods, Must I then doo't to
them?

Volum. You are too absolute,

Though therein you can neuer be too Noble, But when extremities speake.
I haue heard you say, Honor and Policy, like vnseuer'd Friends, I'th'
Warre do grow together: Grant that, and tell me In Peace, what each of
them by th' other loose, That they combine not there?

Corio. Tush, tush

Mene. A good demand

Volum. If it be Honor in your Warres, to seeme The same you are not,
which for your best ends You adopt your policy: How is it lesse or
worse That it shall hold Companionship in Peace With Honour, as in
Warre; since that to both It stands in like request

Corio. Why force you this?

Volum. Because, that

Now it lyes you on to speake to th' people: Not by your owne
instruction, nor by'th' matter Which your heart prompts you, but with
such words That are but roated in your Tongue;

Though but Bastards, and Syllables

Of no allowance, to your bosomes truth.

Now, this no more dishonors you at all,

Then to take in a Towne 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, requir'd I should do so in Honor.
I am in this

Your Wife, your Sonne: These Senators, the Nobles, And you, will rather
shew our generall Lowts, How you can frowne, then spend a fawne vpon
'em, For the inheritance of their loues, and safegard Of what that want
might ruine

Menen. Noble Lady,

Come goe with vs, speake faire: you may salue so, Not what is dangerous
present, but the losse Of what is past

Volum. I prythee now, my Sonne,

Goe to them, with this Bonnet in thy hand, And thus farre hauing
stretcht it (here be with them) Thy Knee bussing the stones: for in
such businesse Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th' ignorant More
learned then the eares, wauing 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
Souldier, and being bred in broyles, Hast not the soft way, which thou
do'st confesse Were fit for thee to vse, as they to clayme, In asking
their good loues, but thou wilt frame Thy selfe (forsooth) hereafter
theirs so farre, As thou hast power and person

Menen. This but done,

Euen as she speakes, why their hearts were yours: For they haue
Pardons, being ask'd, as free, As words to little purpose

Volum. Prythee now,

Goe, and be rul'd: although I know thou hadst rather Follow thine
Enemie in a fierie Gulfe,

Then flatter him in a Bower.

Enter Cominius.

Here is Cominius

Com. I haue beene i'th' Market place: and Sir 'tis fit You make
strong partie, or defend your selfe By calmenesse, or by absence: all's
in anger

Menen. Onely faire speech

Com. I thinke 'twill serue, if he can thereto frame his spirit

Volum. He must, and will:

Prythee now say you will, and goe about it

Corio. Must I goe shew them my vnbarb'd Sconce? Must I with my base
Tongue giue to my Noble Heart A Lye, that it must beare well? I will
doo't: Yet were there but this single Plot, to loose This Mould of
Martius, they to dust should grinde it, And throw't against the Winde.
Toth' Market place: You haue put me now to such a part, which neuer I
shall discharge toth' Life

Com. Come, come, wee'le prompt you

Volum. I prythee now sweet Son, as thou hast said My praises made
thee first a Souldier; so To haue my praise for this, performe a part
Thou hast not done before

Corio. Well, I must doo't:

Away my disposition, and possesse me

Some Harlots spirit: My throat of Warre be turn'd, Which quier'd with
my Drumme into a Pipe, Small as an Eunuch, or the Virgin voyce

That Babies lull a-sleepe: The smiles of Knaues Tent in my cheekes, and
Schoole-boyes Teares take vp The Glasses of my sight: A Beggars Tongue
Make motion through my Lips, and my Arm'd knees Who bow'd but in my
Stirrop, bend like his That hath receiu'd an Almes. I will not doo't,
Least I surcease to honor mine owne truth, And by my Bodies action,
teach my Minde

A most inherent Basenesse

Volum. At thy choice then:

To begge of thee, it is my more dis-honor, Then thou of them. Come all
to ruine, let Thy Mother rather feele thy Pride, then feare Thy
dangerous Stoutnesse: for I mocke at death With as bigge heart as thou.
Do as thou list, Thy Valiantnesse was mine, thou suck'st it from me:
But owe thy Pride thy selfe

Corio. Pray be content:

Mother, I am going to the Market place:

Chide me no more. Ile Mountebanke their Loues, Cogge their Hearts from
them, and come home belou'd Of all the Trades in Rome. Looke, I am
going: Commend me to my Wife, Ile returne Consull, Or neuer trust to
what my Tongue can do

I'th way of Flattery further

Volum. Do your will.

Exit Volumnia

Com. Away, the Tribunes do attend you: arm your self To answer
mildely: for they are prepar'd

With Accusations, as I heare more strong

Then are vpon you yet

Corio. The word is, Mildely. Pray you let vs go, Let them accuse me
by inuention: I

Will answer in mine Honor

Menen. I, but mildely

Corio. Well mildely be it then, Mildely.

Exeunt.

Enter Sicinius and Brutus.

Bru. In this point charge him home, that he affects Tyrannicall
power: If he euade vs there,

Inforce him with his enuy to the people,

And that the Spoile got on the Antiats

Was ne're distributed. What, will he come? Enter an Edile.

Edile. Hee's comming

Bru. How accompanied?

Edile. With old Menenius, and those Senators That alwayes fauour'd
him

Sicin. Haue you a Catalogue

Of all the Voices that we haue procur'd, set downe by'th Pole?   Edile.
I haue: 'tis ready

Sicin. Haue you collected them by Tribes?   Edile. I haue

Sicin. Assemble presently the people hither: And when they heare me
say, it shall be so, I'th' right and strength a'th' 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 olde prerogatiue

And power i'th Truth a'th Cause

Edile. I shall informe them

Bru. And when such time they haue begun to cry, Let them not cease,
but with a dinne confus'd Inforce the present Execution

Of what we chance to Sentence

Edi. Very well

Sicin. Make them be strong, and ready for this hint When we shall
hap to giu't them

Bru. Go about it,

Put him to Choller straite, he hath bene vs'd Euer to conquer, and to
haue his worth

Of contradiction. Being once chaft, he cannot Be rein'd againe to
Temperance, then he speakes What's in his heart, and that is there
which lookes With vs to breake his necke.

Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, and Cominius, with others.

Sicin. Well, heere he comes

Mene. Calmely, I do beseech you

Corio. I, as an Hostler, that fourth poorest peece Will beare the
Knaue by'th Volume:

Th' honor'd Goddes

Keepe Rome in safety, and the Chaires of Iustice Supplied with worthy
men, plant loue amongs Through our large Temples with y shewes of peace
And not our streets with Warre

1 Sen. Amen, Amen

Mene. A Noble wish.

Enter the Edile with the Plebeians.

Sicin. Draw neere ye people

Edile. List to your Tribunes. Audience: Peace I say

Corio. First heare me speake

Both Tri. Well, say: Peace hoe

Corio. Shall I be charg'd no further then this present? Must all
determine heere?

Sicin. I do demand,

If you submit you to the peoples voices,

Allow their Officers, and are content

To suffer lawfull Censure for such faults As shall be prou'd vpon you

Corio. I am Content

Mene. Lo Citizens, he sayes he is Content. The warlike Seruice he
ha's done, consider: Thinke Vpon the wounds his body beares, which shew
Like Graues i'th holy Church-yard

Corio. Scratches with Briars, scarres to moue Laughter onely

Mene. Consider further:

That when he speakes not like a Citizen,

You finde him like a Soldier: do not take His rougher Actions for
malicious sounds: But as I say, such as become a Soldier,

Rather then enuy you

Com. Well, well, no more

Corio. What is the matter,

That being past for Consull with full voyce: I am so dishonour'd, that
the very houre

You take it off againe

Sicin. Answer to vs

Corio. Say then: 'tis true, I ought so   Sicin. We charge you, that
you haue contriu'd to take From Rome all season'd Office, and to winde
Your selfe into a power tyrannicall,

For which you are a Traitor to the people

Corio. How? Traytor?

Mene. Nay temperately: your promise

Corio. The fires i'th' lowest hell. Fould in the people: Call me
their Traitor, thou iniurious Tribune. Within thine eyes sate twenty
thousand deaths In thy hands clutcht: as many Millions in Thy lying
tongue, both numbers. I would say Thou lyest vnto thee, with a voice as
free, As I do pray the Gods

Sicin. Marke you this people?

All. To'th' Rocke, to'th' Rocke with him

Sicin. Peace:

We neede not put new matter to his charge: What you haue seene him do,
and heard him speake: Beating your Officers, cursing your selues,
Opposing Lawes with stroakes, and heere defying Those whose great power
must try him.

Euen this so criminall, and in such capitall kinde Deserues th'
extreamest death

Bru. But since he hath seru'd well for Rome

Corio. What do you prate of Seruice

Brut. I talke of that, that know it

Corio. You?

Mene. Is this the promise that you made your mother

Com. Know, I pray you

Corio. Ile know no further:

Let them pronounce the steepe Tarpeian death, Vagabond exile, Fleaing,
pent to linger

But with a graine a day, I would not buy

Their mercie, at the price of one faire word, Nor checke my Courage for
what they can giue, To haue't with saying, Good morrow

Sicin. For that he ha's

(As much as in him lies) from time to time Enui'd against the people;
seeking meanes To plucke away their power: as now at last, Giuen
Hostile strokes, and that not in the presence Of dreaded Iustice, but
on the Ministers

That doth distribute it. In the name a'th' people, And in the power of
vs the Tribunes, wee

(Eu'n from this instant) banish him our Citie In perill of
precipitation

From off the Rocke Tarpeian, neuer more

To enter our Rome gates. I'th' Peoples name, I say it shall bee so

All. It shall be so, it shall be so: let him away: Hee's banish'd,
and it shall be so

Com. Heare me my Masters, and my common friends

Sicin. He's sentenc'd: No more hearing

Com. Let me speake:

I haue bene Consull, and can shew from Rome Her Enemies markes vpon me.
I do loue

My Countries good, with a respect more tender, More holy, and profound,
then mine owne life, My deere Wiues estimate, her wombes encrease, And
treasure of my Loynes: then if I would Speake that

Sicin. We know your drift. Speake what?   Bru. There's no more to be
said, but he is banish'd As Enemy to the people, and his Countrey. It
shall bee so

All. It shall be so, it shall be so

Corio. You common cry of Curs, whose breath I hate, As reeke a'th'
rotten Fennes: whose Loues I prize, As the dead Carkasses of vnburied
men,

That do corrupt my Ayre: I banish you,

And heere remaine with your vncertaintie. Let euery feeble Rumor shake
your hearts: Your Enemies, with nodding of their Plumes Fan you into
dispaire: Haue the power still To banish your Defenders, till at
length

Your ignorance (which findes not till it feeles, Making but reseruation
of your selues,

Still your owne Foes) deliuer you

As most abated Captiues, to some Nation

That wonne you without blowes, despising

For you the City. Thus I turne my backe;

There is a world elsewhere.

Exeunt. Coriolanus, Cominius, with Cumalijs. They all shout, and throw
vp

their Caps.

Edile. The peoples Enemy is gone, is gone

All. Our enemy is banish'd, he is gone: Hoo, oo

Sicin. Go see him out at Gates, and follow him As he hath follow'd
you, with all despight Giue him deseru'd vexation. Let a guard

Attend vs through the City

All. Come, come, lets see him out at gates, come: The Gods preserue
our Noble Tribunes, come.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus.

Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius, with the
yong

Nobility of Rome.

Corio. Come leaue your teares: a brief farwel: the beast With many
heads butts me away. Nay Mother, Where is your ancient Courage? You
were vs'd To say, Extreamities was the trier of spirits, That common
chances. Common men could beare, That when the Sea was calme, all Boats
alike Shew'd Mastership in floating. Fortunes blowes, When most strooke
home, being gentle wounded, craues A Noble cunning. You were vs'd to
load me With Precepts that would make inuincible

The heart that conn'd them

Virg. Oh heauens! O heauens!

Corio. Nay, I prythee woman

Vol. Now the Red Pestilence strike al Trades in Rome, And
Occupations perish

Corio. What, what, what:

I shall be lou'd when I am lack'd. Nay Mother, Resume that Spirit, when
you were wont to say, If you had beene the Wife of Hercules,

Six of his Labours youl'd haue done, and sau'd Your Husband so much
swet. Cominius,

Droope not, Adieu: Farewell my Wife, my Mother, Ile do well yet. Thou
old and true Menenius, Thy teares are salter then a yonger mans, And
venomous to thine eyes. My (sometime) Generall, I haue seene the
Sterne, and thou hast oft beheld Heart-hardning spectacles. Tell these
sad women, Tis fond to waile ineuitable strokes,

As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My Mother, you wot well My hazards still haue
beene your solace, and Beleeu't not lightly, though I go alone

Like to a lonely Dragon, that his Fenne

Makes fear'd, and talk'd of more then seene: your Sonne Will or exceed
the Common, or be caught

With cautelous baits and practice

Volum. My first sonne,

Whether will thou go? Take good Cominius

With thee awhile: Determine on some course More then a wilde exposture,
to each chance That starts i'th' way before thee

Corio. O the Gods!

Com. Ile follow thee a Moneth, deuise with thee Where thou shalt
rest, that thou may'st heare of vs, And we of thee. So if the time
thrust forth A cause for thy Repeale, we shall not send O're the vast
world, to seeke a single man, And loose aduantage, which doth euer
coole Ith' absence of the needer

Corio. Fare ye well:

Thou hast yeares vpon thee, and thou art too full Of the warres
surfets, to go roue with one That's yet vnbruis'd: bring me but out at
gate. Come my sweet wife, my deerest Mother, and My Friends of Noble
touch: when I am forth, Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you come:
While I remaine aboue the ground, you shall Heare from me still, and
neuer of me ought But what is like me formerly

Menen. That's worthily

As any eare can heare. Come, let's not weepe, If I could shake off but
one seuen yeeres From these old armes and legges, by the good Gods I'ld
with thee, euery foot

Corio. Giue me thy hand, come.

Exeunt.

Enter the two Tribunes, Sicinius, and Brutus, with the Edile.

Sicin. Bid them all home, he's gone: & wee'l no further, The Nobility
are vexed, whom we see haue sided In his behalfe

Brut. Now we haue shewne our power,

Let vs seeme humbler after it is done,

Then when it was a dooing

Sicin. Bid them home: say their great enemy is gone, And they, stand
in their ancient strength

Brut. Dismisse them home. Here comes his Mother. Enter Volumnia,
Virgilia, and Menenius.

Sicin. Let's not meet her

Brut. Why?

Sicin. They say she's mad

Brut. They haue tane note of vs: keepe on your way

Volum. Oh y'are well met:

Th' hoorded plague a'th' Gods requit your loue

Menen. Peace, peace, be not so loud

Volum. If that I could for weeping, you should heare, Nay, and you
shall heare some. Will you be gone?   Virg. You shall stay too: I would
I had the power To say so to my Husband

Sicin. Are you mankinde?

Volum. I foole, is that a shame. Note but this Foole, Was not a man
my Father? Had'st thou Foxship To banish him that strooke more blowes
for Rome Then thou hast spoken words

Sicin. Oh blessed Heauens!

Volum. Moe Noble blowes, then euer y wise words. And for Romes good,
Ile tell thee what: yet goe: Nay but thou shalt stay too: I would my
Sonne Were in Arabia, and thy Tribe before him, His good Sword in his
hand

Sicin. What then?

Virg. When then? Hee'ld make an end of thy posterity   Volum.
Bastards, and all.

Good man, the Wounds that he does beare for Rome!   Menen. Come, come,
peace

Sicin. I would he had continued to his Country As he began, and not
vnknit himselfe

The Noble knot he made

Bru. I would he had

Volum. I would he had? Twas thou incenst the rable. Cats, that can
iudge as fitly of his worth, As I can of those Mysteries which heauen

Will not haue earth to know

Brut. Pray let's go

Volum. Now pray sir get you gone.

You haue done a braue deede: Ere you go, heare this: As farre as doth
the Capitoll exceede

The meanest house in Rome; so farre my Sonne This Ladies Husband heere;
this (do you see) Whom you haue banish'd, does exceed you all

Bru. Well, well, wee'l leaue you

Sicin. Why stay we to be baited

With one that wants her Wits.

Exit Tribunes.

Volum. Take my Prayers with you.

I would the Gods had nothing else to do,

But to confirme my Cursses. Could I meete 'em But once a day, it would
vnclogge my heart Of what lyes heauy too't

Mene. You haue told them home,

And by my troth you haue cause: you'l Sup with me

Volum. Angers my Meate: I suppe vpon my selfe, And so shall sterue
with Feeding: come, let's go, Leaue this faint-puling, and lament as I
do, In Anger, Iuno-like: Come, come, come.

Exeunt.

Mene. Fie, fie, fie.

Enter.

Enter a Roman, and a Volce.

Rom. I know you well sir, and you know mee: your name I thinke is
Adrian

Volce. It is so sir, truly I haue forgot you

Rom. I am a Roman, and my Seruices are as you are, against 'em. Know
you me yet

Volce. Nicanor: no

Rom. The same sir

Volce. You had more Beard when I last saw you, but your Fauour is
well appear'd by your Tongue. What's the Newes in Rome: I haue a Note
from the Volcean state to finde you out there. You haue well saued mee
a dayes iourney

Rom. There hath beene in Rome straunge Insurrections: The people,
against the Senatours, Patricians, and Nobles

Vol. Hath bin; is it ended then? Our State thinks not so, they are
in a most warlike preparation, & hope to com vpon them, in the heate of
their diuision   Rom. The maine blaze of it is past, but a small thing
would make it flame againe. For the Nobles receyue so to heart, the
Banishment of that worthy Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptnesse,
to take al power from the people, and to plucke from them their
Tribunes for euer. This lyes glowing I can tell you, and is almost
mature for the violent breaking out

Vol. Coriolanus Banisht?

Rom. Banish'd sir

Vol. You will be welcome with this intelligence Nicanor

Rom. The day serues well for them now. I haue heard it saide, the
fittest time to corrupt a mans Wife, is when shee's falne out with her
Husband. Your Noble Tullus Auffidius will appeare well in these Warres,
his great Opposer Coriolanus being now in no request of his countrey

Volce. He cannot choose: I am most fortunate, thus accidentally to
encounter you. You haue ended my Businesse, and I will merrily
accompany you home

Rom. I shall betweene this and Supper, tell you most strange things
from Rome: all tending to the good of their Aduersaries. Haue you an
Army ready say you?   Vol. A most Royall one: The Centurions, and their
charges distinctly billetted already in th' entertainment, and to be on
foot at an houres warning

Rom. I am ioyfull to heare of their readinesse, and am the man I
thinke, that shall set them in present Action. So sir, heartily well
met, and most glad of your Company

Volce. You take my part from me sir, I haue the most cause to be
glad of yours

Rom. Well, let vs go together.

Exeunt.

Enter Coriolanus in meane Apparrell, disguisd, and muffled.

Corio. A goodly City is this Antium. Citty, 'Tis I that made thy
Widdowes: Many an heyre Of these faire Edifices fore my Warres

Haue I heard groane, and drop: Then know me not, Least that thy Wiues
with Spits, and Boyes with stones In puny Battell slay me. Saue you
sir.

Enter a Citizen.

Cit. And you

Corio. Direct me, if it be your will, where great Auffidius lies: Is
he in Antium?

Cit. He is, and Feasts the Nobles of the State, at his house this
night

Corio. Which is his house, beseech you?   Cit. This heere before
you

Corio. Thanke you sir, farewell.

Exit Citizen

Oh World, thy slippery turnes! Friends now fast sworn, Whose double
bosomes seemes to weare one heart, Whose Houres, whose Bed, whose Meale
and Exercise Are still together: who Twin (as 'twere) in Loue,
Vnseparable, shall within this houre,

On a dissention of a Doit, breake out

To bitterest Enmity: So fellest Foes,

Whose Passions, and whose Plots haue broke their sleep To take the one
the other, by some chance, Some tricke not worth an Egge, shall grow
deere friends And inter-ioyne their yssues. So with me, My Birth-place
haue I, and my loues vpon

This Enemie Towne: Ile enter, if he slay me He does faire Iustice: if
he giue me way, Ile do his Country Seruice.

Enter.

Musicke playes. Enter a Seruingman.

1 Ser. Wine, Wine, Wine: What seruice is heere? I thinke our Fellowes
are asleepe.

Enter another Seruingman.

2 Ser. Where's Cotus: my M[aster]. cals for him: Cotus.

Exit

Enter Coriolanus.

Corio. A goodly House:

The Feast smels well: but I appeare not like a Guest. Enter the first
Seruingman.

1 Ser. What would you haue Friend? whence are you? Here's no place
for you: pray go to the doore?

Exit

Corio. I haue deseru'd no better entertainment, in being Coriolanus.

Enter second Seruant.

2 Ser. Whence are you sir? Ha's the Porter his eyes in his head, that
he giues entrance to such Companions? Pray get you out

Corio. Away

2 Ser. Away? Get you away

Corio. Now th'art troublesome

2 Ser. Are you so braue: Ile haue you talkt with anon Enter 3
Seruingman, the 1 meets him.

3 What Fellowes this?

1 A strange one as euer I look'd on: I cannot get him out o'thhouse:
Prythee call my Master to him

3 What haue you to do here fellow? Pray you auoid the house

Corio. Let me but stand, I will not hurt your Harth

3 What are you?

Corio. A Gentleman

3 A maru'llous poore one

Corio. True, so I am

3 Pray you poore Gentleman, take vp some other station: Heere's no
place for you, pray you auoid: Come

Corio. Follow your Function, go, and batten on colde bits.

Pushes him away from him.

3 What you will not? Prythee tell my Maister what a strange Guest he
ha's heere

2 And I shall.

Exit second Seruingman.

3 Where dwel'st thou?

Corio. Vnder the Canopy

3 Vnder the Canopy?

Corio. I

3 Where's that?

Corio. I'th City of Kites and crowes

3 I'th City of Kites and Crowes? What an Asse it is, then thou
dwel'st with Dawes too?

Corio. No, I serue not thy Master

3 How sir? Do you meddle with my Master?   Corio. I, tis an honester
seruice, then to meddle with thy Mistris: Thou prat'st, and prat'st,
serue with thy trencher: Hence.

Beats him away

Enter Auffidius with the Seruingman.

Auf. Where is this Fellow?

2 Here sir, I'de haue beaten him like a dogge, but for disturbing the
Lords within

Auf. Whence com'st thou? What wouldst y? Thy name? Why speak'st not?
Speake man: What's thy name?   Corio. If Tullus not yet thou know'st
me, and seeing me, dost not thinke me for the man I am, necessitie
commands me name my selfe

Auf. What is thy name?

Corio. A name vnmusicall to the Volcians eares, And harsh in sound to
thine

Auf. Say, what's thy name?

Thou hast a Grim apparance, and thy Face

Beares a Command in't: Though thy Tackles torne, Thou shew'st a Noble
Vessell: What's thy name?   Corio. Prepare thy brow to frowne: knowst y
me yet?   Auf. I know thee not? Thy Name:

Corio. My name is Caius Martius, who hath done To thee particularly,
and to all the Volces Great hurt and Mischiefe: thereto witnesse may My
Surname Coriolanus. The painfull Seruice, The extreme Dangers, and the
droppes of Blood Shed for my thanklesse Country, are requitted: But
with that Surname, a good memorie

And witnesse of the Malice and Displeasure Which thou should'st beare
me, only that name remains. The Cruelty and Enuy of the people,

Permitted by our dastard Nobles, who

Haue all forsooke me, hath deuour'd the rest: And suffer'd me by th'
voyce of Slaues to be Hoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity,

Hath brought me to thy Harth, not out of Hope (Mistake me not) to saue
my life: for if

I had fear'd death, of all the Men i'th' World I would haue voided
thee. But in meere spight To be full quit of those my Banishers,

Stand I before thee heere: Then if thou hast A heart of wreake in thee,
that wilt reuenge Thine owne particular wrongs, and stop those maimes
Of shame seene through thy Country, speed thee straight And make my
misery serue thy turne: So vse it, That my reuengefull Seruices may
proue

As Benefits to thee. For I will fight

Against my Cankred Countrey, with the Spleene Of all the vnder Fiends.
But if so be,

Thou dar'st not this, and that to proue more Fortunes Th'art tyr'd,
then in a word, I also am

Longer to liue most wearie: and present

My throat to thee, and to thy Ancient Malice: Which not to cut, would
shew thee but a Foole, Since I haue euer followed thee with hate,
Drawne Tunnes of Blood out of thy Countries brest, And cannot liue but
to thy shame, vnlesse It be to do thee seruice

Auf. Oh Martius, Martius;

Each word thou hast spoke, hath weeded from my heart A roote of Ancient
Enuy. If Iupiter

Should from yond clowd speake diuine things, And say 'tis true; I'de
not beleeue them more Then thee all-Noble Martius. Let me twine Mine
armes about that body, where against My grained Ash an hundred times
hath broke, And scarr'd the Moone with splinters: heere I cleep The
Anuile of my Sword, and do contest

As hotly, and as Nobly with thy Loue,

As euer in Ambitious strength, I did

Contend against thy Valour. Know thou first, I lou'd the Maid I
married: neuer man

Sigh'd truer breath. But that I see thee heere Thou Noble thing, more
dances my rapt heart, Then when I first my wedded Mistris saw

Bestride my Threshold. Why, thou Mars I tell thee, We haue a Power on
foote: and I had purpose Once more to hew thy Target from thy Brawne,
Or loose mine Arme for't: Thou hast beate mee out Twelue seuerall
times, and I haue nightly since Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thy selfe
and me: We haue beene downe together in my sleepe, Vnbuckling Helmes,
fisting each others Throat, And wak'd halfe dead with nothing. Worthy
Martius, Had we no other quarrell else to Rome, but that Thou art
thence Banish'd, we would muster all From twelue, to seuentie: and
powring Warre Into the bowels of vngratefull Rome,

Like a bold Flood o're-beate. Oh come, go in, And take our friendly
Senators by'th' hands Who now are heere, taking their leaues of mee,
Who am prepar'd against your Territories, Though not for Rome it selfe

Corio. You blesse me Gods

Auf. Therefore most absolute Sir, if thou wilt haue The leading of
thine owne Reuenges, take

Th' one halfe of my Commission, and set downe As best thou art
experienc'd, since thou know'st Thy Countries strength and weaknesse,
thine own waies Whether to knocke 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, then ere an Enemie,

Yet Martius that was much. Your hand: most welcome.

Exeunt.

Enter two of the Seruingmen.

1 Heere's a strange alteration?

2 By my hand, I had thoght to haue stroken him with a Cudgell, and
yet my minde gaue me, his cloathes made a false report of him

1 What an Arme he has, he turn'd me about with his finger and his
thumbe, as one would set vp a Top

2 Nay, I knew by his face that there was some-thing in him. He had
sir, a kinde of face me thought, I cannot tell how to tearme it

1 He had so, looking as it were, would I were hang'd but I thought
there was more in him, then I could think

2 So did I, Ile be sworne: He is simply the rarest man i'th' world

1 I thinke he is: but a greater soldier then he, You wot one

2 Who my Master?

1 Nay, it's no matter for that

2 Worth six on him

1 Nay not so neither: but I take him to be the greater Souldiour

2 Faith looke you, one cannot tell how to say that: for the Defence
of a Towne, our Generall is excellent

1 I, and for an assault too.

Enter the third Seruingman.

3 Oh Slaues, I can tell you Newes, News you Rascals   Both. What,
what, what? Let's partake

3 I would not be a Roman of all Nations; I had as liue be a
condemn'd man

Both. Wherefore? Wherefore?

3 Why here's he that was wont to thwacke our Generall, Caius Martius

1 Why do you say, thwacke our Generall?   3 I do not say thwacke our
Generall, but he was alwayes good enough for him

2 Come we are fellowes and friends: he was euer too hard for him, I
haue heard him say so himselfe

1 He was too hard for him directly, to say the Troth on't before
Corioles, he scotcht him, and notcht him like a Carbinado

2 And hee had bin Cannibally giuen, hee might haue boyld and eaten
him too

1 But more of thy Newes

3 Why he is so made on heere within, as if hee were Son and Heire to
Mars, set at vpper end o'th' Table: No question askt him by any of the
Senators, but they stand bald before him. Our Generall himselfe makes a
Mistris of him, Sanctifies himselfe with's hand, and turnes vp the
white o'th' eye to his Discourse. But the bottome of the Newes is, our
Generall is cut i'th' middle, & but one halfe of what he was yesterday.
For the other ha's halfe, by the intreaty and graunt of the whole
Table. Hee'l go he sayes, and sole the Porter of Rome Gates by th'
eares. He will mowe all downe before him, and leaue his passage poul'd

2 And he's as like to do't, as any man I can imagine

3 Doo't? he will doo't: for look you sir, he has as many Friends as
Enemies: which Friends sir as it were, durst not (looke you sir) shew
themselues (as we terme it) his Friends, whilest he's in Directitude

1 Directitude? What's that?

3 But when they shall see sir, his Crest vp againe, and the man in
blood, they will out of their Burroughes (like Conies after Raine) and
reuell all with him

1 But when goes this forward:

3 To morrow, to day, presently, you shall haue the Drum strooke vp
this afternoone: 'Tis as it were a parcel of their Feast, and to be
executed ere they wipe their lips

2 Why then wee shall haue a stirring World againe: This peace is
nothing, but to rust Iron, encrease Taylors, and breed Ballad-makers

1 Let me haue Warre say I, it exceeds peace as farre as day do's
night: It's sprightly walking, audible, and full of Vent. Peace, is a
very Apoplexy, Lethargie, mull'd, deafe, sleepe, insensible, a getter
of more bastard Children, then warres a destroyer of men

2 'Tis so, and as warres in some sort may be saide to be a Rauisher,
so it cannot be denied, but peace is a great maker of Cuckolds

1 I, and it makes men hate one another

3 Reason, because they then lesse neede one another: The Warres for
my money. I hope to see Romanes as cheape as Volcians. They are rising,
they are rising

Both. In, in, in, in.

Exeunt.

Enter the two Tribunes, Sicinius, and Brutus.

Sicin. We heare not of him, neither need we fear him, His remedies
are tame, the present peace, And quietnesse of the people, which before
Were in wilde hurry. Heere do we make his Friends Blush, that the world
goes well: who rather had, Though they themselues did suffer by't,
behold Dissentious numbers pestring streets, then see Our Tradesmen
singing in their shops, and going About their Functions friendly.

Enter Menenius.

Bru. We stood too't in good time. Is this Menenius?   Sicin. 'Tis he,
'tis he: O he is grown most kind of late: Haile Sir

Mene. Haile to you both

Sicin. Your Coriolanus is not much mist, but with his Friends: the
Commonwealth doth stand, and so would do, were he more angry at it

Mene. All's well, and might haue bene much better, if he could haue
temporiz'd

Sicin. Where is he, heare you?

Mene. Nay I heare nothing:

His Mother and his wife, heare nothing from him. Enter three or foure
Citizens.

All. The Gods preserue you both

Sicin. Gooden our Neighbours

Bru. Gooden to you all, gooden to you all

1 Our selues, our wiues, and children, on our knees, Are bound to
pray for you both

Sicin. Liue, and thriue

Bru. Farewell kinde Neighbours:

We wisht Coriolanus had lou'd you as we did

All. Now the Gods keepe you

Both Tri. Farewell, farewell.

Exeunt. Citizens

Sicin. This is a happier and more comely time, Then when these
Fellowes ran about the streets, Crying Confusion

Bru. Caius Martius was

A worthy Officer i'th' Warre, but Insolent, O'recome with Pride,
Ambitious, past all thinking Selfe-louing

Sicin. And affecting one sole Throne, without assista[n]ce   Mene. I
thinke not so

Sicin. We should by this, to all our Lamention, If he had gone forth
Consull, found it so

Bru. The Gods haue well preuented it, and Rome Sits safe and still,
without him.

Enter an aedile.

Aedile. Worthy Tribunes,

There is a Slaue whom we haue put in prison, Reports the Volces with
two seuerall Powers Are entred in the Roman Territories,

And with the deepest malice of the Warre, Destroy, what lies before'
em

Mene. 'Tis Auffidius,

Who hearing of our Martius Banishment,

Thrusts forth his hornes againe into the world Which were In-shell'd,
when Martius stood for Rome, And durst not once peepe out

Sicin. Come, what talke you of Martius

Bru. Go see this Rumorer whipt, it cannot be, The Volces dare breake
with vs

Mene. Cannot be?

We haue Record, that very well it can,

And three examples of the like, hath beene Within my Age. But reason
with the fellow Before you punish him, where he heard this, Least you
shall chance to whip your Information, And beate the Messenger, who
bids beware

Of what is to be dreaded

Sicin. Tell not me: I know this cannot be

Bru. Not possible.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes. The Nobles in great earnestnesse are going All to the
Senate-house: some newes is comming That turnes their Countenances

Sicin. 'Tis this Slaue:

Go whip him fore the peoples eyes: His raising, Nothing but his report

Mes. Yes worthy Sir,

The Slaues report is seconded, and more

More fearfull is deliuer'd

Sicin. What more fearefull?

Mes. It is spoke freely out of many mouths, How probable I do not
know, that Martius

Ioyn'd with Auffidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome, And vowes Reuenge as
spacious, as betweene The yong'st and oldest thing

Sicin. This is most likely

Bru. Rais'd onely, that the weaker sort may wish Good Martius home
againe

Sicin. The very tricke on't

Mene. This is vnlikely,

He, and Auffidius can no more attone

Then violent'st Contrariety.

Enter Messenger.

Mes. You are sent for to the Senate:

A fearefull Army, led by Caius Martius,

Associated with Auffidius, Rages

Vpon our Territories, and haue already

O're-borne their way, consum'd with fire, and tooke What lay before
them.

Enter Cominius.

Com. Oh you haue made good worke

Mene. What newes? What newes?

Com. You haue holp to rauish your owne daughters, & To melt the Citty
Leades vpon your pates, To see your Wiues dishonour'd to your Noses

Mene. What's the newes? What's the newes?   Com. Your Temples burned
in their Ciment, and Your Franchises, whereon you stood, confin'd Into
an Augors boare

Mene. Pray now, your Newes:

You haue made faire worke I feare me: pray your newes, If Martius
should be ioyn'd with Volceans

Com. If? He is their God, he leads them like a thing Made by some
other Deity then Nature,

That shapes man Better: and they follow him Against vs Brats, with no
lesse Confidence, Then Boyes pursuing Summer Butter-flies,

Or Butchers killing Flyes

Mene. You haue made good worke,

You and your Apron men: you, that stood so much Vpon the voyce of
occupation, and

The breath of Garlicke-eaters

Com. Hee'l shake your Rome about your eares

Mene. As Hercules did shake downe Mellow Fruite: You haue made faire
worke

Brut. But is this true sir?

Com. I, and you'l looke pale

Before you finde it other. All the Regions Do smilingly Reuolt, and who
resists

Are mock'd for valiant Ignorance,

And perish constant Fooles: who is't can blame him? Your Enemies and
his, finde something in him

Mene. We are all vndone, vnlesse

The Noble man haue mercy

Com. Who shall aske it?

The Tribunes cannot doo't for shame; the people Deserue such pitty of
him, as the Wolfe

Doe's of the Shepheards: For his best Friends, if they Should say be
good to Rome, they charg'd him, euen As those should do that had
deseru'd his hate, And therein shew'd like Enemies

Me. 'Tis true, if he were putting to my house, the brand That should
consume it, I haue not the face To say, beseech you cease. You haue
made faire hands, You and your Crafts, you haue crafted faire

Com. You haue brought

A Trembling vpon Rome, such as was neuer

S' incapeable of helpe

Tri. Say not, we brought it

Mene. How? Was't we? We lou'd him,

But like Beasts, and Cowardly Nobles,

Gaue way vnto your Clusters, who did hoote Him out o'th' Citty

Com. But I feare

They'l roare him in againe. Tullus Affidius, The second name of men,
obeyes his points As if he were his Officer: Desperation,

Is all the Policy, Strength, and Defence

That Rome can make against them.

Enter a Troope of Citizens.

Mene. Heere come the Clusters.

And is Auffidius with him? You are they

That made the Ayre vnwholsome, when you cast Your stinking, greasie
Caps, in hooting

At Coriolanus Exile. Now he's comming,

And not a haire vpon a Souldiers head

Which will not proue a whip: As many Coxcombes As you threw Caps vp,
will he tumble downe, And pay you for your voyces. 'Tis no matter, If
he could burne vs all into one coale,

We haue deseru'd it

Omnes. Faith, we heare fearfull Newes

1 Cit. For mine owne part,

When I said banish him, I said 'twas pitty

2 And so did I

3 And so did I: and to say the truth, so did very many of vs, that
we did we did for the best, and though wee willingly consented to his
Banishment, yet it was against our will

Com. Y'are goodly things, you Voyces

Mene. You haue made good worke

You and your cry. Shal's to the Capitoll?   Com. Oh I, what else?

Exeunt. both.

Sicin. Go Masters get you home, be not dismaid, These are a Side,
that would be glad to haue This true, which they so seeme to feare. Go
home, And shew no signe of Feare

1 Cit. The Gods bee good to vs: Come Masters let's home, I euer said
we were i'th wrong, when we banish'd him

2 Cit. So did we all. But come, let's home.

Exit Cit.

Bru. I do not like this Newes

Sicin. Nor I

Bru. Let's to the Capitoll: would halfe my wealth Would buy this for
a lye

Sicin. Pray let's go.

Exeunt. Tribunes.

Enter Auffidius with his Lieutenant.

Auf. Do they still flye to'th' Roman?

Lieu. I do not know what Witchcraft's in him: but Your Soldiers vse
him as the Grace 'fore meate, Their talke at Table, and their Thankes
at end, And you are darkned in this action Sir,

Euen by your owne

Auf. I cannot helpe it now,

Vnlesse by vsing meanes I lame the foote

Of our designe. He beares himselfe more proudlier, Euen to my person,
then 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

Lieu. Yet I wish Sir,

(I meane for your particular) you had not Ioyn'd in Commission with
him: but either haue borne The action of your selfe, or else to him,
had left it soly

Auf. I vnderstand thee well, and be thou sure When he shall come to
his account, he knowes not What I can vrge against him, although it
seemes And so he thinkes, and is no lesse apparant To th' vulgar eye,
that he beares all things fairely: And shewes good Husbandry for the
Volcian State, Fights Dragon-like, and does atcheeue as soone As draw
his Sword: yet he hath left vndone That which shall breake his necke,
or hazard mine, When ere we come to our account

Lieu. Sir, I beseech you, think you he'l carry Rome?   Auf. All
places yeelds to him ere he sits downe, And the Nobility of Rome are
his:

The Senators and Patricians loue him too: The Tribunes are no Soldiers:
and their people Will be as rash in the repeale, as hasty

To expell him thence. I thinke hee'l be to Rome As is the Aspray to the
Fish, who takes it By Soueraignty of Nature. First, he was

A Noble seruant to them, but he could not Carry his Honors eeuen:
whether 'twas Pride Which out of dayly Fortune euer taints

The happy man; whether detect of iudgement, To faile in the disposing
of those chances Which he was Lord of: or whether Nature,

Not to be other then one thing, not moouing From th' Caske to th'
Cushion: but commanding peace Euen with the same austerity and garbe,

As he controll'd the warre. But one of these (As he hath spices of them
all) not all,

For I dare so farre free him, made him fear'd, So hated, and so
banish'd: but he ha's a Merit To choake it in the vtt'rance: So our
Vertue, Lie in th' interpretation of the time,

And power vnto it selfe most commendable, Hath not a Tombe so euident
as a Chaire

T' extoll what it hath done.

One fire driues out one fire; one Naile, one Naile; Rights by rights
fouler, strengths by strengths do faile. Come let's away: when Caius
Rome is thine, Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, Brutus, the two Tribunes, with

others.

Menen. No, ile not go: you heare what he hath said Which was sometime
his Generall: who loued him In a most deere particular. He call'd me
Father: But what o'that? Go you that banish'd him A Mile before his
Tent, fall downe, and knee The way into his mercy: Nay, if he coy'd

To heare Cominius speake, Ile keepe at home

Com. He would not seeme to know me

Menen. Do you heare?

Com. Yet one time he did call me by my name: I vrg'd our old
acquaintance, and the drops That we haue bled together. Coriolanus

He would not answer too: Forbad all Names, He was a kinde of Nothing,
Titlelesse,

Till he had forg'd himselfe a name a'th' fire Of burning Rome

Menen. Why so: you haue made good worke: A paire of Tribunes, that
haue wrack'd for Rome, To make Coales cheape: A Noble memory

Com. I minded him, how Royall 'twas to pardon When it was lesse
expected. He replyed

It was a bare petition of a State

To one whom they had punish'd

Menen. Very well, could he say lesse

Com. I offered to awaken his regard

For's priuate Friends. His answer to me was He could not stay to picke
them, in a pile Of noysome musty Chaffe. He said, 'twas folly For one
poore graine or two, to leaue vnburnt And still to nose th' offence

Menen. For one poore graine or two?

I am one of those: his Mother, Wife, his Childe, And this braue Fellow
too: we are the Graines, You are the musty Chaffe, and you are smelt
Aboue the Moone. We must be burnt for you

Sicin. Nay, pray be patient: If you refuse your ayde In this so
neuer-needed helpe, yet do not Vpbraid's with our distresse. But sure
if you Would be your Countries Pleader, your good tongue More then the
instant Armie we can make

Might stop our Countryman

Mene. No: Ile not meddle

Sicin. Pray you go to him

Mene. What should I do?

Bru. Onely make triall what your Loue can do, For Rome, towards
Martius

Mene. Well, and say that Martius returne mee, As Cominius is
return'd, vnheard: what then? But as a discontented Friend, greefe-shot
With his vnkindnesse. Say't be so?

Sicin. Yet your good will

Must haue that thankes from Rome, after the measure As you intended
well

Mene. Ile vndertak't:

I thinke hee'l heare me. Yet to bite his lip, And humme at good
Cominius, much vnhearts mee. He was not taken well, he had not din'd,

The Veines vnfill'd, our blood is cold, and then We powt vpon the
Morning, are vnapt

To giue or to forgiue; but when we haue stufft These Pipes, and these
Conueyances of our blood With Wine and Feeding, we haue suppler Soules
Then in our Priest-like Fasts: therefore Ile watch him Till he be
dieted to my request,

And then Ile set vpon him

Bru. You know the very rode into his kindnesse, And cannot lose your
way

Mene. Good faith Ile proue him,

Speed how it will. I shall ere long, haue knowledge Of my successe.

Enter.

Com. Hee'l neuer heare him

Sicin. Not

Com. I tell you, he doe's sit in Gold, his eye Red as 'twould burne
Rome: and his Iniury The Gaoler to his pitty. I kneel'd before him,
'Twas very faintly he said Rise: dismist me Thus with his speechlesse
hand. What he would do He sent in writing after me: what he would not,
Bound with an Oath to yeeld to his conditions: So that all hope is
vaine, vnlesse his Noble Mother, And his Wife, who (as I heare) meane
to solicite him For mercy to his Countrey: therefore let's hence, And
with our faire intreaties hast them on.

Exeunt.

Enter Menenius to the Watch or Guard.

1.Wat. Stay: whence are you

2.Wat. Stand, and go backe

Me. You guard like men, 'tis well. But by your leaue, I am an
Officer of State, & come to speak with Coriolanus   1 From whence?

Mene. From Rome

I You may not passe, you must returne: our Generall will no more
heare from thence

2 You'l see your Rome embrac'd with fire, before You'l speake with
Coriolanus

Mene. Good my Friends,

If you haue heard your Generall talke of Rome, And of his Friends
there, it is Lots to Blankes, My name hath touch't your eares: it is
Menenius

1 Be it so, go back: the vertue of your name, Is not heere passable

Mene. I tell thee Fellow,

Thy Generall is my Louer: I haue beene

The booke of his good Acts, whence men haue read His Fame vnparalell'd,
happely amplified: For I haue euer verified my Friends,

(Of whom hee's cheefe) with all the size that verity Would without
lapsing suffer: Nay, sometimes, Like to a Bowle vpon a subtle ground

I haue tumbled past the throw: and in his praise Haue (almost) stampt
the Leasing. Therefore Fellow, I must haue leaue to passe

1 Faith Sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalfe, as you
haue vttered words in your owne, you should not passe heere: no, though
it were as vertuous to lye, as to liue chastly. Therefore go backe

Men. Prythee fellow, remember my name is Menenius, alwayes
factionary on the party of your Generall

2 Howsoeuer you haue bin his Lier, as you say you haue, I am one
that telling true vnder him, must say you cannot passe. Therefore go
backe

Mene. Ha's he din'd can'st thou tell? For I would not speake with
him, till after dinner

1 You are a Roman, are you?

Mene. I am as thy Generall is

1 Then you should hate Rome, as he do's. Can you, when you haue
pusht out your gates, the very Defender of them, and in a violent
popular ignorance, giuen your enemy your shield, thinke to front his
reuenges with the easie groanes of old women, the Virginall Palms of
your daughters, or with the palsied intercession of such a decay'd
Dotant as you seeme to be? Can you think to blow out the intended fire,
your City is ready to flame in, with such weake breath as this? No, you
are deceiu'd, therfore backe to Rome, and prepare for your execution:
you are condemn'd, our Generall has sworne you out of repreeue and
pardon

Mene. Sirra, if thy Captaine knew I were heere, He would vse me with
estimation

1 Come, my Captaine knowes you not

Mene. I meane thy Generall

1 My Generall cares not for you. Back I say, go: least I let forth
your halfe pinte of blood. Backe, that's the vtmost of your hauing,
backe

Mene. Nay but Fellow, Fellow.

Enter Coriolanus with Auffidius.

Corio. What's the matter?

Mene. Now you Companion: Ile say an arrant for you: you shall know
now that I am in estimation: you shall perceiue, that a Iacke gardant
cannot office me from my Son Coriolanus, guesse but my entertainment
with him: if thou stand'st not i'th state of hanging, or of some death
more long in Spectatorship, and crueller in suffering, behold now
presently, and swoond for what's to come vpon thee. The glorious Gods
sit in hourely Synod about thy particular prosperity, and loue thee no
worse then thy old Father Menenius do's. O my Son, my Son! thou art
preparing fire for vs: looke thee, heere's water to quench it. I was
hardly moued to come to thee: but beeing assured none but my selfe
could moue thee, I haue bene blowne out of your Gates with sighes: and
coniure thee to pardon Rome, and thy petitionary Countrimen. The good
Gods asswage thy wrath, and turne the dregs of it, vpon this Varlet
heere: This, who like a blocke hath denyed my accesse to thee

Corio. Away

Mene. How? Away?

Corio. Wife, Mother, Child, I know not. My affaires Are Seruanted to
others: Though I owe

My Reuenge properly, my remission lies

In Volcean brests. That we haue beene familiar, Ingrate forgetfulnesse
shall poison rather Then pitty: Note how much, therefore be gone. Mine
eares against your suites, are stronger then Your gates against my
force. Yet for I loued thee, Take this along, I writ it for thy sake,

And would haue sent it. Another word Menenius, I will not heare thee
speake. This man Auffidius Was my belou'd in Rome: yet thou behold'st

Auffid. You keepe a constant temper.

Exeunt.

Manet the Guard and Menenius.

1 Now sir, is your name Menenius?

2 'Tis a spell you see of much power:

You know the way home againe

1 Do you heare how wee are shent for keeping your greatnesse backe?

2 What cause do you thinke I haue to swoond?   Menen. I neither care
for th' world, nor your General: for such things as you. I can scarse
thinke ther's any, y'are so slight. He that hath a will to die by
himselfe, feares it not from another: Let your Generall do his worst.
For you, bee that you are, long; and your misery encrease with your
age. I say to you, as I was said to, Away.

Exit

1 A Noble Fellow I warrant him

2 The worthy Fellow is our General. He's the Rock, The Oake not to
be winde-shaken.

Exit Watch.

Enter Coriolanus and Auffidius.

Corio. We will before the walls of Rome to morrow Set downe our
Hoast. My partner in this Action, You must report to th' Volcian Lords,
how plainly I haue borne this Businesse

Auf. Onely their ends you haue respected, Stopt your eares against
the generall suite of Rome: Neuer admitted a priuat whisper, no not
with such frends That thought them sure of you

Corio. This last old man,

Whom with a crack'd heart I haue sent to Rome, Lou'd me, aboue the
measure of a Father,

Nay godded me indeed. Their latest refuge Was to send him: for whose
old Loue I haue (Though I shew'd sowrely to him) once more offer'd The
first Conditions which they did refuse, And cannot now accept, to grace
him onely, That thought he could do more: A very little I haue yeelded
too. Fresh Embasses, and Suites, Nor from the State, nor priuate
friends heereafter Will I lend eare 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 Virgilia, Volumnia, Valeria, yong Martius, with Attendants.

My wife comes formost, then the honour'd mould Wherein this Trunke was
fram'd, and in her hand The Grandchilde to her blood. But out
affection, All bond and priuiledge of Nature breake; Let it be Vertuous
to be Obstinate.

What is that Curt'sie worth? Or those Doues eyes, Which can make Gods
forsworne? I melt, and am not Of stronger earth then others: my Mother
bowes, As if Olympus to a Mole-hill should

In supplication Nod: and my yong Boy

Hath an Aspect of intercession, which

Great Nature cries, Deny not. Let the Volces Plough Rome, and harrow
Italy, Ile neuer

Be such a Gosling to obey instinct; but stand As if a man were Author
of himself, & knew no other kin   Virgil. My Lord and Husband

Corio. These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome

Virg. The sorrow that deliuers vs thus chang'd, Makes you thinke so

Corio. Like a dull Actor now, I haue forgot my part, And I am out,
euen to a full Disgrace. Best of my Flesh, Forgiue my Tyranny: but do
not say,

For that forgiue our Romanes. O a kisse

Long as my Exile, sweet as my Reuenge!

Now by the iealous Queene of Heauen, that kisse I carried from thee
deare; and my true Lippe Hath Virgin'd it ere since. You Gods, I pray,
And the most noble Mother of the world

Leaue vnsaluted: Sinke my knee i'th' earth,

Kneeles

Of thy deepe duty, more impression shew

Then that of common Sonnes

Volum. Oh stand vp blest!

Whil'st with no softer Cushion then the Flint I kneele before thee, and
vnproperly

Shew duty as mistaken, all this while,

Betweene the Childe, and Parent

Corio. What's this? your knees to me?

To your Corrected Sonne?

Then let the Pibbles on the hungry beach

Fillop the Starres: Then, let the mutinous windes Strike the proud
Cedars 'gainst the fiery Sun: Murd'ring Impossibility, to make

What cannot be, slight worke

Volum. Thou art my Warriour, I hope to frame thee Do you know this
Lady?

Corio. The Noble Sister of Publicola;

The Moone of Rome: Chaste as the Isicle

That's curdied by the Frost, from purest Snow, And hangs on Dians
Temple: Deere Valeria

Volum. This is a poore Epitome of yours, Which by th' interpretation
of full time, May shew like all your selfe

Corio. The God of Souldiers:

With the consent of supreame Ioue, informe Thy thoughts with
Noblenesse, that thou mayst proue To shame vnvulnerable, and sticke
i'th Warres Like a great Sea-marke standing euery flaw, And sauing
those that eye thee

Volum. Your knee, Sirrah

Corio. That's my braue Boy

Volum. Euen he, your wife, this Ladie, and my selfe, Are Sutors to
you

Corio. I beseech you peace:

Or if you'ld aske, remember this before;

The thing I haue forsworne to graunt, may neuer Be held by you denials.
Do not bid me

Dismisse my Soldiers, or capitulate

Againe, with Romes Mechanickes. Tell me not Wherein I seeme vnnaturall:
Desire not t' allay My Rages and Reuenges, with your colder reasons

Volum. Oh no more, no more:

You haue said you will not grant vs any thing: For we haue nothing else
to aske, but that Which you deny already: yet we will aske, That if you
faile in our request, the blame May hang vpon your hardnesse, therefore
heare vs

Corio. Auffidius, and you Volces marke, for wee'l Heare nought from
Rome in priuate. Your request?   Volum. Should we be silent & not
speak, our Raiment And state of Bodies would bewray what life We haue
led since thy Exile. Thinke with thy selfe, How more vnfortunate then
all liuing women Are we come hither; since that thy sight, which should
Make our eies flow with ioy, harts dance with comforts, Constraines
them weepe, and shake with feare & sorow, Making the Mother, wife, and
Childe to see, The Sonne, the Husband, and the Father tearing His
Countries Bowels out; and to poore we Thine enmities most capitall:
Thou barr'st vs Our prayers to the Gods, which is a comfort That all
but we enioy. For how can we?

Alas! how can we, for our Country pray?

Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory: Whereto we are bound:
Alacke, or we must loose The Countrie our deere Nurse, or else thy
person Our comfort in the Country. We must finde An euident Calamity,
though we had

Our wish, which side should win. For either thou Must as a Forraine
Recreant be led

With Manacles through our streets, or else Triumphantly treade on thy
Countries ruine, And beare the Palme, for hauing brauely shed Thy Wife
and Childrens blood: For my selfe, Sonne, I purpose not to waite on
Fortune, till

These warres determine: If I cannot perswade thee, Rather to shew a
Noble grace to both parts, Then seeke the end of one; thou shalt no
sooner March to assault thy Country, then to treade (Trust too't, thou
shalt not) on thy Mothers wombe That brought thee to this world

Virg. I, and mine, that brought you forth this boy, To keepe your
name liuing to time

Boy. A shall not tread on me: Ile run away Till I am bigger, but
then Ile fight

Corio. Not of a womans tendernesse to be, Requires nor Childe, nor
womans face to see: I haue sate too long

Volum. Nay, go not from vs thus:

If it were so, that our request did tend

To saue the Romanes, thereby to destroy

The Volces whom you serue, you might condemne vs As poysonous of your
Honour. No, our suite Is that you reconcile them: While the Volces May
say, this mercy we haue shew'd: the Romanes, This we receiu'd, and each
in either side Giue the All-haile to thee, and cry be Blest For making
vp this peace. Thou know'st (great Sonne) The end of Warres vncertaine:
but this certaine, That if thou conquer Rome, the benefit

Which thou shalt thereby reape, 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 wip'd it out: Destroy'd his Country, and his
name remaines To th' insuing Age, abhorr'd. Speake to me Son: Thou hast
affected the fiue straines of Honor, To imitate the graces of the
Gods.

To teare with Thunder the wide Cheekes a'th' Ayre, And yet to change
thy Sulphure with a Boult That should but riue an Oake. Why do'st not
speake? Think'st thou it Honourable for a Nobleman Still to remember
wrongs? Daughter, speake you: He cares not for your weeping. Speake
thou Boy, Perhaps thy childishnesse will moue him more Then can our
Reasons. There's no man in the world More bound to's Mother, yet heere
he let's me prate Like one i'th' Stockes. Thou hast neuer in thy life,
Shew'd thy deere Mother any curtesie,

When she (poor Hen) fond of no second brood, Ha's clock'd thee to the
Warres: and safelie home Loden with Honor. Say my Request's vniust, And
spurne me backe: 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
Mothers part belongs. He turnes away: Down Ladies: let vs shame him
with him with our knees To his sur-name Coriolanus longs more pride
Then pitty to our Prayers. Downe: an end, This is the last. So, we will
home to Rome, And dye among our Neighbours: Nay, behold's, This Boy
that cannot tell what he would haue, But kneeles, and holds vp hands
for fellowship, Doe's reason our Petition with more strength Then thou
hast to deny't. Come, let vs go: This Fellow had a Volcean to his
Mother:

His Wife is in Corioles, and his Childe

Like him by chance: yet giue vs our dispatch: I am husht vntill our
City be afire, & then Ile speak a litle

Holds her by the hand silent.

Corio. O Mother, Mother!

What haue you done? Behold, the Heauens do ope, The Gods looke downe,
and this vnnaturall Scene They laugh at. Oh my Mother, Mother: Oh!

You haue wonne a happy Victory to Rome.

But for your Sonne, beleeue it: Oh beleeue it, Most dangerously you
haue with him preuail'd, If not most mortall to him. But let it come:
Auffidius, though I cannot make true Warres, Ile frame conuenient
peace. Now good Auffidius, Were you in my steed, would you haue heard A
Mother lesse? or granted lesse Auffidius?   Auf. I was mou'd withall

Corio. I dare be sworne you were:

And sir, it is no little thing to make

Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But (good sir) What peace you'l make,
aduise me: For my part, Ile not to Rome, Ile backe with you, and pray
you Stand to me in this cause. Oh Mother! Wife!   Auf. I am glad thou
hast set thy mercy, & thy Honor At difference in thee: Out of that Ile
worke My selfe a former Fortune

Corio. I by and by; But we will drinke together: And you shall
beare

A better witnesse backe then words, which we On like conditions, will
haue Counter-seal'd. Come enter with vs: Ladies you deserue

To haue a Temple built you: All the Swords In Italy, and her
Confederate Armes

Could not haue made this peace.

Exeunt.

Enter Menenius and Sicinius.

Mene. See you yon'd Coin a'th Capitol, yon'd corner stone?   Sicin.
Why what of that?

Mene. 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 preuaile with him. But I say, there is no hope in't, our throats
are sentenc'd, and stay vppon execution

Sicin. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition
of a man

Mene. There is differency between a Grub & a Butterfly, yet your
Butterfly was a Grub: this Martius, is growne from Man to Dragon: He
has wings, hee's more then a creeping thing

Sicin. He lou'd his Mother deerely

Mene. So did he mee: and he no more remembers his Mother now, then
an eight yeare old horse. The tartnesse of his face, sowres ripe
Grapes. When he walks, he moues like an Engine, and the ground shrinkes
before his Treading. He is able to pierce a Corslet with his eye:
Talkes like a knell, and his hum is a Battery. He sits in his State, as
a thing made for Alexander. What he bids bee done, is finisht with his
bidding. He wants nothing of a God but Eternity, and a Heauen to Throne
in

Sicin. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly

Mene. I paint him in the Character. Mark what mercy his Mother shall
bring from him: There is no more mercy in him, then there is milke in a
male-Tyger, that shall our poore City finde: and all this is long of
you

Sicin. The Gods be good vnto vs

Mene. No, in such a case the Gods will not bee good vnto vs. When we
banish'd him, we respected not them: and he returning to breake our
necks, they respect not vs. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Sir, if you'ld saue your life, flye to your House, The Plebeians
haue got your Fellow Tribune, And hale him vp and downe; all swearing,
if The Romane Ladies bring not comfort home

They'l giue him death by Inches.

Enter another Messenger.

Sicin. What's the Newes?

Mess. Good Newes, good newes, the Ladies haue preuayl'd. The Volcians
are dislodg'd, and Martius gone: A merrier day did neuer yet greet
Rome,

No, not th' expulsion of the Tarquins

Sicin. Friend, art thou certaine this is true? Is't most certaine

Mes. As certaine as I know the Sun is fire: Where haue you lurk'd
that you make doubt of it: Ne're through an Arch so hurried the blowne
Tide, As the recomforted through th' gates. Why harke you:

Trumpets, Hoboyes, Drums beate, altogether.

The Trumpets, Sack-buts, Psalteries, and Fifes, Tabors, and Symboles,
and the showting Romans, Make the Sunne dance. Hearke you.

A shout within

Mene. This is good Newes:

I will go meete the Ladies. This Volumnia, Is worth of Consuls,
Senators, Patricians, A City full: Of Tribunes such as you,

A Sea and Land full: you haue pray'd well to day: This Morning, for ten
thousand of your throates, I'de not haue giuen a doit. Harke, how they
ioy.

Sound still with the Shouts.

Sicin. First, the Gods blesse you for your tydings: Next, accept my
thankefulnesse

Mess. Sir, we haue all great cause to giue great thanks

Sicin. They are neere the City

Mes. Almost at point to enter

Sicin. Wee'l meet them, and helpe the ioy.

Exeunt.

Enter two Senators, with Ladies, passing ouer the Stage, with other
Lords.

Sena. Behold our Patronnesse, the life of Rome: Call all your Tribes
together, praise the Gods, And make triumphant fires, strew Flowers
before them: Vnshoot the noise that Banish'd Martius;

Repeale him, with the welcome of his Mother: Cry welcome Ladies,
welcome

All. Welcome Ladies, welcome.

A Flourish with Drummes & Trumpets.

Enter Tullus Auffidius, with Attendants.

Auf. Go tell the Lords a'th' City, I am heere: Deliuer them this
Paper: hauing read it,

Bid them repayre to th' Market place, where I Euen in theirs, and in
the Commons eares

Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse: The City Ports by this hath
enter'd, and

Intends t' appeare before the People, hoping To purge himselfe with
words. Dispatch.

Enter 3 or 4 Conspirators of Auffidius Faction.

Most Welcome

1.Con. How is it with our Generall?

Auf. Euen so, as with a man by his owne Almes impoyson'd, and with
his Charity slaine

2.Con. Most Noble Sir, If you do hold the same intent Wherein you
wisht vs parties: Wee'l deliuer you Of your great danger

Auf. Sir, I cannot tell,

We must proceed as we do finde the People

3.Con. The People will remaine vncertaine, whil'st 'Twixt you
there's difference: but the fall of either Makes the Suruiuor heyre of
all

Auf. I know it:

And my pretext to strike at him, admits

A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd Mine Honor for his
truth: who being so heighten'd, He watered his new Plants with dewes of
Flattery, Seducing so my Friends: and to this end,

He bow'd his Nature, neuer knowne before, But to be rough, vnswayable,
and free

3.Consp. Sir, his stoutnesse

When he did stand for Consull, which he lost By lacke of stooping

Auf. That I would haue spoke of:

Being banish'd for't, he came vnto my Harth, Presented to my knife his
Throat: I tooke him, Made him ioynt-seruant with me: Gaue him way In
all his owne desires: Nay, let him choose Out of my Files, his
proiects, to accomplish My best and freshest men, seru'd his
designements In mine owne person: holpe to reape the Fame Which he did
end all his; and tooke some pride To do my selfe this wrong: Till at
the last I seem'd his Follower, not Partner; and

He wadg'd me with his Countenance, as if

I had bin Mercenary

1.Con. So he did my Lord:

The Army marueyl'd at it, and in the last, When he had carried Rome,
and that we look'd For no lesse Spoile, then Glory

Auf. There was it:

For which my sinewes shall be stretcht vpon him, At a few drops of
Womens rhewme, which are As cheape as Lies; he sold the Blood and
Labour Of our great Action; therefore shall he dye, And Ile renew me in
his fall. But hearke.

Drummes and Trumpets sounds, with great showts of the people.

1.Con. Your Natiue Towne you enter'd like a Poste, And had no
welcomes home, but he returnes Splitting the Ayre with noyse

2.Con. And patient Fooles,

Whose children he hath slaine, their base throats teare With giuing him
glory

3.Con. Therefore at your vantage,

Ere he expresse himselfe, or moue the people With what he would say,
let him feele your Sword: Which we will second, when he lies along

After your way. His Tale pronounc'd, shall bury His Reasons, with his
Body

Auf. Say no more. Heere come the Lords, Enter the Lords of the
City.

All Lords. You are most welcome home

Auff. I haue not deseru'd it.

But worthy Lords, haue you with heede perused What I haue written to
you?

All. We haue

1.Lord. And greeue to heare't:

What faults he made before the last, I thinke Might haue found easie
Fines: But there to end Where he was to begin, and giue away

The benefit of our Leuies, answering vs

With our owne charge: making a Treatie, where There was a yeelding;
this admits no excuse

Auf. He approaches, you shall heare him. Enter Coriolanus marching
with Drumme, and Colours. The Commoners being

with him.

Corio. Haile Lords, I am return'd your Souldier: No more infected
with my Countries loue

Then when I parted hence: but still subsisting Vnder your great
Command. You are to know, That prosperously I haue attempted, and

With bloody passage led your Warres, euen to The gates of Rome: Our
spoiles we haue brought home Doth more then counterpoize a full third
part The charges of the Action. We haue made peace With no lesse Honor
to the Antiates

Then shame to th' Romaines. And we heere deliuer Subscrib'd by'th'
Consuls, and Patricians, Together with the Seale a'th Senat, what

We haue compounded on

Auf. Read it not Noble Lords,

But tell the Traitor in the highest degree He hath abus'd your Powers

Corio. Traitor? How now?

Auf. I Traitor, Martius

Corio. Martius?

Auf. I Martius, Caius Martius: Do'st thou thinke Ile grace thee with
that Robbery, thy stolne name Coriolanus in Corioles?

You Lords and Heads a'th' State, perfidiously He ha's betray'd your
businesse, and giuen vp For certaine 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 Silke, neuer admitting

Counsaile a'th' warre: But at his Nurses teares He whin'd and roar'd
away your Victory,

That Pages blush'd at him, and men of heart Look'd wond'ring each at
others

Corio. Hear'st thou Mars?

Auf. Name not the God, thou boy of Teares

Corio. Ha?

Aufid. No more

Corio. Measurelesse Lyar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what
containes it. Boy? Oh Slaue, Pardon me Lords, 'tis the first time that
euer I was forc'd to scoul'd. Your iudgments my graue Lords Must giue
this Curre the Lye: and his owne Notion, Who weares my stripes imprest
vpon him, that Must beare my beating to his Graue, shall ioyne To
thrust the Lye vnto him

1 Lord. Peace both, and heare me speake

Corio. Cut me to peeces Volces men and Lads, Staine all your edges
on me. Boy, false Hound: If you haue writ your Annales true, 'tis
there, That like an Eagle in a Doue-coat, I

Flatter'd your Volcians in Corioles.

Alone I did it, Boy

Auf. Why Noble Lords,

Will you be put in minde of his blinde Fortune, Which was your shame,
by this vnholy Braggart? 'Fore your owne eyes, and eares?

All Consp. Let him dye for't

All People. Teare him to peeces, do it presently: He kill'd my
Sonne, my daughter, he kill'd my Cosine Marcus, he kill'd my Father

2 Lord. Peace hoe: no outrage, peace:

The man is Noble, and his Fame folds in

This Orbe o'th' earth: His last offences to vs Shall haue Iudicious
hearing. Stand Auffidius, And trouble not the peace

Corio. O that I had him, with six Auffidiusses, or more: His Tribe,
to vse my lawfull Sword

Auf. Insolent Villaine

All Consp. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.

Draw both the Conspirators, and kils Martius, who falles, Auffidius
stands

on him

Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold

Auf. My Noble Masters, heare me speake

1.Lord. O Tullus

2.Lord. Thou hast done a deed, whereat Valour will weepe

3.Lord. Tread not vpon him Masters, all be quiet, Put vp your
Swords

Auf. My Lords,

When you shall know (as in this Rage

Prouok'd by him, you cannot) the great danger Which this mans life did
owe you, you'l reioyce That he is thus cut off. Please it your Honours
To call me to your Senate, Ile deliuer

My selfe your loyall Seruant, or endure

Your heauiest Censure

1.Lord. Beare from hence his body,

And mourne you for him. Let him be regarded As the most Noble Coarse,
that euer Herald Did follow to his Vrne

2.Lord. His owne impatience,

Takes from Auffidius a great part of blame: Let's make the Best of it

Auf. My Rage is gone,

And I am strucke with sorrow. Take him vp: Helpe three a'th' cheefest
Souldiers, Ile be one. Beate thou the Drumme that it speake mournfully:
Traile your steele Pikes. Though in this City hee Hath widdowed and
vnchilded many a one,

Which to this houre bewaile the Iniury,

Yet he shall haue a Noble Memory. Assist.

Exeunt. bearing the Body of Martius. A dead March Sounded.



FINIS. The Tragedy of Coriolanus.



The Tragedie of Titus Andronicus

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Flourish. Enter the Tribunes and Senators aloft And then enter
Saturninus

and his Followers at one doore, and Bassianus and his Followers at the

other, with Drum & Colours.

Saturninus. Noble Patricians, Patrons of my right, Defend the iustice
of my Cause with Armes. And Countrey-men, my louing Followers,

Pleade my Successiue Title with your Swords. I was the first borne
Sonne, that was the last That wore the Imperiall Diadem of Rome:

Then let my Fathers Honours liue in me,

Nor wrong mine Age with this indignitie

Bassianus. Romaines, Friends, Followers, Fauourers of my Right:

If euer Bassianus, Csars Sonne,

Were gracious in the eyes of Royall Rome, Keepe then this passage to
the Capitoll:

And suffer not Dishonour to approach

Th' Imperiall Seate to Vertue: consecrate To Iustice, Continence, and
Nobility:

But let Desert in pure Election shine;

And Romanes, fight for Freedome in your Choice. Enter Marcus Andronicus
aloft with the Crowne.

Princes, that striue by Factions, and by Friends, Ambitiously for Rule
and Empery:

Know, that the people of Rome for whom we stand A speciall Party, haue
by Common voyce

In Election for the Romane Emperie,

Chosen Andronicus, Sur-named Pious,

For many good and great deserts to Rome.

A Nobler man, a brauer Warriour,

Liues not this day within the City Walles. He by the Senate is accited
home

From weary Warres against the barbarous Gothes, That with his Sonnes (a
terror to our Foes) Hath yoak'd a Nation strong, train'd vp in Armes.
Ten yeares are spent, since first he vndertooke This Cause of Rome, and
chasticed with Armes Our Enemies pride. Fiue times he hath return'd
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his Valiant Sonnes In Coffins from the
Field.

And now at last, laden with Honours Spoyles, Returnes the good
Andronicus to Rome,

Renowned Titus, flourishing in Armes.

Let vs intreat, by Honour of his Name,

Whom (worthily) you would haue now succeede, And in the Capitoll and
Senates right,

Whom you pretend to Honour and Adore,

That you withdraw you, and abate your Strength, Dismisse your
Followers, and as Suters should, Pleade your Deserts in Peace and
Humblenesse

Saturnine. How fayre the Tribune speakes, To calme my thoughts

Bassia. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affie In thy vprightnesse and
Integrity:

And so I Loue and Honor thee, and thine,

Thy Noble Brother Titus, and his Sonnes,

And Her (to whom my thoughts are humbled all) Gracious Lauinia, Romes
rich Ornament,

That I will heere dismisse my louing Friends: And to my Fortunes, and
the Peoples Fauour, Commit my Cause in ballance to be weigh'd.

Exit Souldiours.

Saturnine. Friends, that haue beene

Thus forward in my Right,

I thanke you all, and heere Dismisse you all, And to the Loue and
Fauour of my Countrey, Commit my Selfe, my Person, and the Cause: Rome,
be as iust and gracious vnto me,

As I am confident and kinde to thee.

Open the Gates, and let me in

Bassia. Tribunes, and me, a poore Competitor.

Flourish. They go vp into the Senat house.

Enter a Captaine.

Cap. Romanes make way: the good Andronicus, Patron of Vertue, Romes
best Champion,

Successefull in the Battailes that he fights, With Honour and with
Fortune is return'd, From whence he circumscribed with his Sword, And
brought to yoke the Enemies of Rome.

Sound Drummes and Trumpets. And then enter two of Titus Sonnes; After

them, two men bearing a Coffin couered with blacke, then two other
Sonnes.

After them, Titus Andronicus, and then Tamora the Queene of Gothes, &
her

two Sonnes Chiron and Demetrius, with Aaron the Moore, and others, as
many

as can bee: They set downe the Coffin, and Titus speakes.

Andronicus. Haile Rome:

Victorious in thy Mourning Weedes:

Loe as the Barke that hath discharg'd his fraught, Returnes with
precious lading to the Bay, From whence at first she weigh'd her
Anchorage: Commeth Andronicus bound with Lawrell bowes, To resalute his
Country with his teares,

Teares of true ioy for his returne to Rome, Thou great defender of this
Capitoll,

Stand gracious to the Rites that we intend. Romaines, of fiue and
twenty Valiant Sonnes, Halfe of the number that King Priam had,

Behold the poore remaines aliue and dead! These that Suruiue, let Rome
reward with Loue: These that I bring vnto their latest home, With
buriall amongst their Auncestors.

Heere Gothes haue giuen me leaue to sheath my Sword: Titus vnkinde, and
carelesse of thine owne, Why suffer'st thou thy Sonnes vnburied yet, To
houer on the dreadfull shore of Stix?

Make way to lay them by their Bretheren.

They open the Tombe.

There greete in silence as the dead are wont, And sleepe in peace,
slaine in your Countries warres: O sacred receptacle of my ioyes,

Sweet Cell of vertue and Nobilitie,

How many Sonnes of mine hast thou in store, That thou wilt neuer render
to me more?

Luc. Giue vs the proudest prisoner of the Gothes, That we may hew his
limbes, and on a pile Ad manus fratrum, sacrifice his flesh:

Before this earthly prison of their bones, That so the shadowes be not
vnappeas'd,

Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth

Tit. I giue him you, the Noblest that Suruiues, The eldest Son of
this distressed Queene

Tam. Stay Romaine Bretheren, gracious Conqueror, Victorious Titus,
rue the teares I shed,

A Mothers teares in passion for her sonne: And if thy Sonnes were euer
deere to thee, Oh thinke my sonnes to be as deere to mee. Sufficeth
not, that we are brought to Rome To beautifie thy Triumphs, and
returne

Captiue to thee, and to thy Romaine yoake, But must my Sonnes be
slaughtred in the streetes, For Valiant doings in their Countries
cause? O! If to fight for King and Common-weale, Were piety in thine,
it is in these:

Andronicus, staine not thy Tombe with blood. Wilt thou draw neere the
nature of the Gods? Draw neere them then in being mercifull.

Sweet mercy is Nobilities true badge,

Thrice Noble Titus, spare my first borne sonne

Tit. Patient your selfe Madam, and pardon me. These are the
Brethren, whom you Gothes beheld Aliue and dead, and for their
Bretheren slaine, Religiously they aske a sacrifice:

To this your sonne is markt, and die he must, T' appease their groaning
shadowes that are gone

Luc. Away with him, and make a fire straight, And with our Swords
vpon a pile of wood,

Let's hew his limbes till they be cleane consum'd.

Exit Sonnes with Alarbus.

Tamo. O cruell irreligious piety

Chi. Was euer Scythia halfe so barbarous?   Dem. Oppose me Scythia
to ambitious Rome, Alarbus goes to rest, and we suruiue,

To tremble vnder Titus threatning lookes. Then Madam stand resolu'd,
but hope withall, The selfe same Gods that arm'd the Queene of Troy
With opportunitie of sharpe reuenge

Vpon the Thracian Tyrant in his Tent,

May fauour Tamora the Queene of Gothes,

(When Gothes were Gothes, and Tamora was Queene) To quit the bloody
wrongs vpon her foes.

Enter the Sonnes of Andronicus againe.

Luci. See Lord and Father, how we haue perform'd Our Romaine rightes,
Alarbus limbs are lopt, And intrals feede the sacrifising fire,

Whole smoke like incense doth perfume the skie. Remaineth nought but to
interre our Brethren, And with low'd Larums welcome them to Rome

Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus

Make this his latest farewell to their Soules.

Flourish.

Then Sound Trumpets, and lay the Coffins in the Tombe.

In peace and Honour rest you heere my Sonnes, Romes readiest Champions,
repose you heere in rest, Secure from worldly chaunces and mishaps:
Heere lurks no Treason, heere no enuie swels, Heere grow no damned
grudges, heere are no stormes, No noyse, but silence and Eternall
sleepe, In peace and Honour rest you heere my Sonnes. Enter Lauinia.

Laui. In peace and Honour, liue Lord Titus long, My Noble Lord and
Father, liue in Fame:

Loe at this Tombe my tributarie teares,

I render for my Bretherens Obsequies:

And at thy feete I kneele, with teares of ioy Shed on the earth for thy
returne to Rome. O blesse me heere with thy victorious hand, Whose
Fortune Romes best Citizens applau'd

Ti. Kind Rome,

That hast thus louingly reseru'd

The Cordiall of mine age to glad my hart, Lauinia liue, out-liue thy
Fathers dayes: And Fames eternall date for vertues praise

Marc. Long liue Lord Titus, my beloued brother, Gracious Triumpher
in the eyes of Rome

Tit. Thankes Gentle Tribune,

Noble brother Marcus

Mar. And welcome Nephews from succesfull wars, You that suruiue and
you that sleepe in Fame: Faire Lords your Fortunes are all alike in
all, That in your Countries seruice drew your Swords. But safer Triumph
is this Funerall Pompe, That hath aspir'd to Solons Happines,

And Triumphs ouer chaunce in honours bed. Titus Andronicus, the people
of Rome,

Whose friend in iustice thou hast euer bene, Send thee by me their
Tribune and their trust, This Palliament of white and spotlesse Hue,
And name thee in Election for the Empire, With these our late deceased
Emperours Sonnes: Be Candidatus then, and put it on,

And helpe to set a head on headlesse Rome

Tit. A better head her Glorious body fits, Then his that shakes for
age and feeblenesse: What should I don this Robe and trouble you, Be
chosen with proclamations to day,

To morrow yeeld vp rule, resigne my life, And set abroad new businesse
for you all. Rome I haue bene thy Souldier forty yeares, And led my
Countries strength successefully, And buried one and twenty Valiant
Sonnes, Knighted in Field, slaine manfully in Armes, In right and
Seruice of their Noble Countrie: Giue me a staffe of Honour for mine
age,

But not a Scepter to controule the world, Vpright he held it Lords,
that held it last

Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtaine and aske the Emperie

Sat. Proud and ambitious Tribune can'st thou tell?   Titus. Patience
Prince Saturninus

Sat. Romaines do me right.

Patricians draw your Swords, and sheath them not Till Saturninus be
Romes Emperour:

Andronicus would thou wert shipt to hell, Rather then rob me of the
peoples harts

Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good That Noble minded
Titus meanes to thee

Tit. Content thee Prince, I will restore to thee The peoples harts,
and weane them from themselues

Bass. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee But Honour thee, and will
doe till I die: My Faction if thou strengthen with thy Friend? I will
most thankefull be, and thankes to men Of Noble mindes, is Honourable
Meede

Tit. People of Rome, and Noble Tribunes heere, I aske your voyces
and your Suffrages,

Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?   Tribunes. To gratifie
the good Andronicus, And Gratulate his safe returne to Rome,

The people will accept whom he admits

Tit. Tribunes I thanke you, and this sure I make, That you Create
your Emperours eldest sonne, Lord Saturnine, whose Vertues will I hope,
Reflect on Rome as Tytans Rayes on earth, And ripen Iustice in this
Common-weale:

Then if you will elect by my aduise,

Crowne him, and say: Long liue our Emperour

Mar. An. With Voyces and applause of euery sort, Patricians and
Plebeans we Create

Lord Saturninus Romes Great Emperour.

And say, Long liue our Emperour Saturnine.

A long Flourish till they come downe.

Satu. Titus Andronicus, for thy Fauours done, To vs in our Election
this day,

I giue thee thankes in part of thy Deserts, And will with Deeds requite
thy gentlenesse: And for an Onset Titus to aduance

Thy Name, and Honorable Familie,

Lauinia will I make my Empresse,

Romes Royall Mistris, Mistris of my hart

And in the Sacred Pathan her espouse:

Tell me Andronicus doth this motion please thee?   Tit. It doth my
worthy Lord, and in this match, I hold me Highly Honoured of your
Grace,

And heere in sight of Rome, to Saturnine, King and Commander of our
Common-weale,

The Wide-worlds Emperour, do I Consecrate, My Sword, my Chariot, and my
Prisoners,

Presents well Worthy Romes Imperiall Lord: Receiue them then, the
Tribute that I owe, Mine Honours Ensignes humbled at my feete

Satu. Thankes Noble Titus, Father of my life, How proud I am of
thee, and of thy gifts

Rome shall record, and when I do forget

The least of these vnspeakable Deserts,

Romans forget your Fealtie to me

Tit. Now Madam are you prisoner to an Emperour, To him that for your
Honour and your State, Will vse you Nobly and your followers

Satu. A goodly Lady, trust me of the Hue That I would choose, were I
to choose a new: Cleere vp Faire Queene that cloudy countenance, Though
chance of warre

Hath wrought this change of cheere,

Thou com'st not to be made a scorne in Rome: Princely shall be thy
vsage euery way.

Rest on my word, and let not discontent

Daunt all your hopes: Madam he comforts you, Can make you Greater then
the Queene of Gothes? Lauinia you are not displeas'd with this?   Lau.
Not I my Lord, sith true Nobilitie, Warrants these words in Princely
curtesie

Sat. Thankes sweete Lauinia, Romans let vs goe: Ransomlesse heere we
set our Prisoners free, Proclaime our Honors Lords with Trumpe and
Drum

Bass. Lord Titus by your leaue, this Maid is mine

Tit. How sir? Are you in earnest then my Lord?   Bass. I Noble
Titus, and resolu'd withall, To doe my selfe this reason, and this
right

Marc. Suum cuiquam, is our Romane Iustice, This Prince in Iustice
ceazeth but his owne

Luc. And that he will and shall, if Lucius liue

Tit. Traytors auant, where is the Emperours Guarde? Treason my Lord,
Lauinia is surpris'd

Sat. Surpris'd, by whom?

Bass. By him that iustly may

Beare his Betroth'd, from all the world away

Muti. Brothers helpe to conuey her hence away, And with my Sword Ile
keepe this doore safe

Tit. Follow my Lord, and Ile soone bring her backe

Mut. My Lord you passe not heere

Tit. What villaine Boy, bar'st me my way in Rome?   Mut. Helpe
Lucius helpe. He kils him

Luc. My Lord you are vniust, and more then so, In wrongfull
quarrell, you haue slaine your son

Tit. Nor thou, nor he are any sonnes of mine, My sonnes would neuer
so dishonour me.

Traytor restore Lauinia to the Emperour

Luc. Dead if you will, but not to be his wife, That is anothers
lawfull promist Loue.

Enter aloft the Emperour with Tamora and her two sonnes, and Aaron the

Moore.

Empe. No Titus, no, the Emperour needs her not, Nor her, nor thee,
nor any of thy stocke: Ile trust by Leisure him that mocks me once.
Thee neuer: nor thy Trayterous haughty sonnes, Confederates all, thus
to dishonour me.

Was none in Rome to make a stale

But Saturnine? Full well Andronicus

Agree these Deeds, with that proud bragge of thine, That said'st, I
beg'd the Empire at thy hands

Tit. O monstrous, what reproachfull words are these?   Sat. But goe
thy wayes, goe giue that changing peece, To him that flourisht for her
with his Sword: A Valliant sonne in-law thou shalt enioy: One, fit to
bandy with thy lawlesse Sonnes, To ruffle in the Common-wealth of Rome

Tit. These words are Razors to my wounded hart

Sat. And therefore louely Tamora Queene of Gothes, That like the
stately Thebe mong'st her Nimphs Dost ouer-shine the Gallant'st Dames
of Rome, If thou be pleas'd with this my sodaine choyse, Behold I
choose thee Tamora for my Bride, And will Create thee Empresse of
Rome.

Speake Queene of Goths dost thou applau'd my choyse? And heere I sweare
by all the Romaine Gods, Sith Priest and Holy-water are so neere,

And Tapers burne so bright, and euery thing In readines for Hymeneus
stand,

I will not resalute the streets of Rome,

Or clime my Pallace, till from forth this place, I leade espous'd my
Bride along with me

Tamo. And heere in sight of heauen to Rome I sweare, If Saturnine
aduance the Queen of Gothes, Shee will a Hand-maid be to his desires,

A louing Nurse, a Mother to his youth

Satur. Ascend Faire Queene,

Panthean Lords, accompany

Your Noble Emperour and his louely Bride, Sent by the heauens for
Prince Saturnine, Whose wisedome hath her Fortune Conquered, There
shall we Consummate our Spousall rites.

Exeunt. omnes.

Tit. I am not bid to waite vpon this Bride: Titus when wer't thou
wont to walke alone, Dishonoured thus and Challenged of wrongs? Enter
Marcus and Titus Sonnes.

Mar. O Titus see! O see what thou hast done! In a bad quarrell,
slaine a Vertuous sonne

Tit. No foolish Tribune, no: No sonne of mine, Nor thou, nor these
Confedrates in the deed, That hath dishonoured all our Family,

Vnworthy brother, and vnworthy Sonnes

Luci. But let vs giue him buriall as becomes: Giue Mutius buriall
with our Bretheren

Tit. Traytors away, he rest's not in this Tombe: This Monument fiue
hundreth yeares hath stood, Which I haue Sumptuously re-edified.

Heere none but Souldiers, and Romes Seruitors, Repose in Fame: None
basely slaine in braules, Bury him where you can, he comes not heere

Mar. My Lord this is impiety in you,

My Nephew Mutius deeds do plead for him,

He must be buried with his bretheren

Titus two Sonnes speakes. And shall, or him we will accompany

Ti. And shall! What villaine was it spake that word?   Titus sonne
speakes. He that would vouch'd it in any place but heere

Tit. What would you bury him in my despight?   Mar. No Noble Titus,
but intreat of thee, To pardon Mutius, and to bury him

Tit. Marcus, Euen thou hast stroke vpon my Crest, And with these
Boyes mine Honour thou hast wounded, My foes I doe repute you euery
one.

So trouble me no more, but get you gone

1.Sonne. He is not himselfe, let vs withdraw

2.Sonne. Not I tell Mutius bones be buried.

The Brother and the sonnes kneele.

Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature plea'd

2.Sonne. Father, and in that name doth nature speake

Tit. Speake thou no more if all the rest will speede

Mar. Renowned Titus more then halfe my soule

Luc. Deare Father, soule and substance of vs all

Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to interre His Noble Nephew heere in
vertues nest,

That died in Honour and Lauinia's cause.

Thou art a Romaine, be not barbarous:

The Greekes vpon aduise did bury Aiax

That slew himselfe: And Laertes sonne,

Did graciously plead for his Funerals:

Let not young Mutius then that was thy ioy, Be bar'd his entrance
heere

Tit. Rise Marcus, rise,

The dismall'st day is this that ere I saw, To be dishonored by my
Sonnes in Rome:

Well, bury him, and bury me the next.

They put him in the Tombe.

Luc. There lie thy bones sweet Mutius with thy friends. Till we with
Trophees do adorne thy Tombe.

They all kneele and say.

No man shed teares for Noble Mutius,

He liues in Fame, that di'd in vertues cause. Enter.

Mar. My Lord to step out of these sudden dumps, How comes it that the
subtile Queene of Gothes, Is of a sodaine thus aduanc'd in Rome?

Ti. I know not Marcus: but I know it is, (Whether by deuise or no)
the heauens can tell, Is she not then beholding to the man,

That brought her for this high good turne so farre? Yes, and will Nobly
him remunerate.

Flourish.

Enter the Emperor, Tamora, and her two sons, with the Moore at one
doore.

Enter at the other doore Bassianus and Lauinia with others.

Sat. So Bassianus, you haue plaid your prize, God giue you ioy sir of
your Gallant Bride

Bass. And you of yours my Lord: I say no more, Nor wish no lesse,
and so I take my leaue

Sat. Traytor, if Rome haue law, or we haue power, Thou and thy
Faction shall repent this Rape

Bass. Rape call you it my Lord, to cease my owne, My true betrothed
Loue, and now my wife?

But let the lawes of Rome determine all,

Meane while I am possest of that is mine

Sat. 'Tis good sir: you are very short with vs, But if we liue,
weele be as sharpe with you

Bass. My Lord, what I haue done as best I may, Answere I must, and
shall do with my life, Onely thus much I giue your Grace to know, By
all the duties that I owe to Rome,

This Noble Gentleman Lord Titus heere,

Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd,

That in the rescue of Lauinia,

With his owne hand did slay his youngest Son, In zeale to you, and
highly mou'd to wrath. To be controul'd in that he frankly gaue:
Receiue him then to fauour Saturnine,

That hath expre'st himselfe in all his deeds, A Father and a friend to
thee, and Rome

Tit. Prince Bassianus leaue to plead my Deeds, 'Tis thou, and those,
that haue dishonoured me, Rome and the righteous heauens be my iudge,
How I haue lou'd and Honour'd Saturnine

Tam. My worthy Lord if euer Tamora,

Were gracious in those Princely eyes of thine, Then heare me speake
indifferently for all: And at my sute (sweet) pardon what is past

Satu. What Madam, be dishonoured openly, And basely put it vp
without reuenge?

Tam. Not so my Lord,

The Gods of Rome fore-fend,

I should be Authour to dishonour you.

But on mine honour dare, I vndertake

For good Lord Titus innocence in all:

Whose fury not dissembled speakes his griefes: Then at my sute looke
graciously on him,

Loose not so noble a friend on vaine suppose, Nor with sowre lookes
afflict his gentle heart. My Lord, be rul'd by me, be wonne at last,
Dissemble all your griefes and discontents, You are but newly planted
in your Throne, Least then the people, and Patricians too, Vpon a iust
suruey take Titus part,

And so supplant vs for ingratitude,

Which Rome reputes to be a hainous sinne. Yeeld at intreats, and then
let me alone: Ile finde a day to massacre them all,

And race their faction, and their familie, The cruell Father, and his
trayt'rous sonnes, To whom I sued for my deare sonnes life.

And make them know what 'tis to let a Queene. Kneele in the streetes,
and beg for grace in vaine. Come, come, sweet Emperour, (come
Andronicus) Take vp this good old man, and cheere the heart, That dies
in tempest of thy angry frowne

King. Rise Titus, rise,

My Empresse hath preuail'd

Titus. I thanke your Maiestie,

And her my Lord.

These words, these lookes,

Infuse new life in me

Tamo. Titus, I am incorparate in Rome, A Roman now adopted happily.

And must aduise the Emperour for his good, This day all quarrels die
Andronicus.

And let it be mine honour good my Lord,

That I haue reconcil'd your friends and you. For you Prince Bassianus,
I haue past

My word and promise to the Emperour,

That you will be more milde and tractable. And feare not Lords:

And you Lauinia,

By my aduise all humbled on your knees,

You shall aske pardon of his Maiestie

Son. We doe,

And vow to heauen, and to his Highnes,

That what we did, was mildly, as we might, Tendring our sisters honour
and our owne

Mar. That on mine honour heere I do protest

King. Away and talke not, trouble vs no more

Tamora. Nay, nay,

Sweet Emperour, we must all be friends,

The Tribune and his Nephews kneele for grace, I will not be denied,
sweet hart looke back

King. Marcus,

For thy sake and thy brothers heere,

And at my louely Tamora's intreats,

I doe remit these young mens haynous faults. Stand vp: Lauinia, though
you left me like a churle, I found a friend, and sure as death I sware,
I would not part a Batchellour from the Priest. Come, if the Emperours
Court can feast two Brides, You are my guest Lauinia, and your friends:
This day shall be a Loue-day Tamora

Tit. To morrow and it please your Maiestie, To hunt the Panther and
the Hart with me, With horne and Hound,

Weele giue your Grace Bon iour

Satur. Be it so Titus, and Gramercy to.

Exeunt.



Actus Secunda.

Flourish. Enter Aaron alone.

Aron. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus toppe, Safe out of Fortunes shot,
and sits aloft, Secure of Thunders cracke or lightning flash, Aduanc'd
about pale enuies threatning reach: As when the golden Sunne salutes
the morne, And hauing gilt the Ocean with his beames, Gallops the
Zodiacke in his glistering Coach, And ouer-lookes the highest piering
hills: So Tamora

Vpon her wit doth earthly honour waite,

And vertue stoopes and trembles at her frowne. Then Aaron arme thy
hart, and fit thy thoughts, To mount aloft with thy Emperiall Mistris,
And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long Hast prisoner held,
fettred in amorous chaines, And faster bound to Aarons charming eyes,
Then is Prometheus ti'de to Caucasus.

Away with slauish weedes, and idle thoughts, I will be bright and shine
in Pearle and Gold, To waite vpon this new made Empresse.

To waite said I? To wanton with this Queene, This Goddesse, this
Semirimis, this Queene. This Syren, that will charme Romes Saturnine,
And see his shipwracke, and his Common weales. Hollo, what storme is
this?

Enter Chiron and Demetrius brauing.

Dem. Chiron thy yeres wants wit, thy wit wants edge And manners to
intru'd where I am grac'd, And may for ought thou know'st affected be

Chi. Demetrius, thou doo'st ouer-weene in all, And so in this, to
beare me downe with braues, 'Tis not the difference of a yeere or two
Makes me lesse gracious, or thee more fortunate: I am as able, and as
fit, as thou,

To serue, and to deserue my Mistris grace, And that my sword vpon thee
shall approue, And plead my passions for Lauinia's loue

Aron. Clubs, clubs, these louers will not keep the peace

Dem. Why Boy, although our mother (vnaduised) Gaue you a daunsing
Rapier by your side,

Are you so desperate growne to threat your friends? Goe too: haue your
Lath glued within your sheath, Till you know better how to handle it

Chi. Meane while sir, with the little skill I haue, Full well shalt
thou perceiue how much I dare

Deme. I Boy, grow ye so braue?

They drawe.

Aron. Why how now Lords?

So nere the Emperours Pallace dare you draw, And maintaine such a
quarrell openly?

Full well I wote, the ground of all this grudge. I would not for a
million of Gold,

The cause were knowne to them it most concernes. Nor would your noble
mother for much more Be so dishonored in the Court of Rome:

For shame put vp

Deme. Not I, till I haue sheath'd

My rapier in his bosome, and withall

Thrust these reprochfull speeches downe his throat, That he hath
breath'd in my dishonour heere

Chi. For that I am prepar'd, and full resolu'd, Foule spoken
Coward,

That thundrest with thy tongue,

And with thy weapon nothing dar'st performe

Aron. A way I say.

Now by the Gods that warlike Gothes adore, This pretty brabble will
vndoo vs all:

Why Lords, and thinke you not how dangerous It is to set vpon a Princes
right?

What is Lauinia then become so loose,

Or Bassianus so degenerate,

That for her loue such quarrels may be broacht, Without controulement,
Iustice, or reuenge? Young Lords beware, and should the Empresse know,
This discord ground, the musicke would not please

Chi. I care not I, knew she and all the world, I loue Lauinia more
then all the world

Demet. Youngling,

Learne thou to make some meaner choise,

Lauinia is thine elder brothers hope

Aron. Why are ye mad? Or know ye not in Rome, How furious and
impatient they be,

And cannot brooke Competitors in loue?

I tell you Lords, you doe but plot your deaths, By this deuise

Chi. Aaron, a thousand deaths would I propose, To atchieue her whom
I do loue

Aron. To atcheiue her, how?

Deme. Why, mak'st thou it so strange?

Shee is a woman, therefore may be woo'd,

Shee is a woman, therfore may be wonne,

Shee is Lauinia therefore must be lou'd.

What man, more water glideth by the Mill

Then wots the Miller of, and easie it is

Of a cut loafe to steale a shiue we know: Though Bassianus be the
Emperours brother, Better then he haue worne Vulcans badge

Aron. I, and as good as Saturninus may

Deme. Then why should he dispaire that knowes to court it With
words, faire lookes, and liberality: What hast not thou full often
strucke a Doe, And borne her cleanly by the Keepers nose?   Aron. Why
then it seemes some certaine snatch or so Would serue your turnes

Chi. I so the turne were serued

Deme. Aaron thou hast hit it

Aron. Would you had hit it too,

Then should not we be tir'd with this adoo: Why harke yee, harke yee,
and are you such fooles, To square for this? Would it offend you then?
Chi. Faith not me

Deme. Nor me, so I were one

Aron. For shame be friends, & ioyne for that you iar: 'Tis pollicie,
and stratageme must doe

That you affect, and so must you resolue, That what you cannot as you
would atcheiue, You must perforce accomplish as you may:

Take this of me, Lucrece was not more chast Then this Lauinia,
Bassianus loue,

A speedier course this lingring languishment Must we pursue, and I haue
found the path: My Lords, a solemne hunting is in hand.

There will the louely Roman Ladies troope: The Forrest walkes are wide
and spacious, And many vnfrequented plots there are,

Fitted by kinde for rape and villanie:

Single you thither then this dainty Doe,

And strike her home by force, if not by words: This way or not at all,
stand you in hope. Come, come, our Empresse with her sacred wit To
villainie and vengance consecrate,

Will we acquaint with all that we intend, And she shall file our
engines with aduise, That will not suffer you to square your selues,
But to your wishes height aduance you both. The Emperours Court is like
the house of Fame, The pallace full of tongues, of eyes, of eares: The
Woods are ruthlesse, dreadfull, deafe, and dull: There speake, and
strike braue Boyes, & take your turnes. There serue your lusts,
shadow'd from heauens eye, And reuell in Lauinia's Treasurie

Chi. Thy counsell Lad smells of no cowardise

Deme. Sit fas aut nefas, till I finde the streames, To coole this
heat, a Charme to calme their fits, Per Stigia per manes Vehor.

Exeunt.

Enter Titus Andronicus and his three sonnes, making a noyse with
hounds

and hornes, and Marcus.

Tit. The hunt is vp, the morne is bright and gray, The fields are
fragrant, and the Woods are greene, Vncouple heere, and let vs make a
bay,

And wake the Emperour, and his louely Bride, And rouze the Prince, and
ring a hunters peale, That all the Court may eccho with the noyse.
Sonnes let it be your charge, as it is ours, To attend the Emperours
person carefully: I haue bene troubled in my sleepe this night, But
dawning day new comfort hath inspir'd.

Winde Hornes.

Heere a cry of houndes, and winde hornes in a peale, then Enter
Saturninus, Tamora, Bassianus, Lauinia, Chiron, Demetrius, and their

Attendants.

Ti. Many good morrowes to your Maiestie, Madam to you as many and as
good.

I promised your Grace, a Hunters peale

Satur. And you haue rung it lustily my Lords, Somewhat to earely for
new married Ladies

Bass. Lauinia, how say you?

Laui. I say no:

I haue bene awake two houres and more

Satur. Come on then, horse and Chariots let vs haue, And to our
sport: Madam, now shall ye see, Our Romaine hunting

Mar. I haue dogges my Lord,

Will rouze the proudest Panther in the Chase, And clime the highest
Promontary top

Tit. And I haue horse will follow where the game Makes way, and
runnes likes Swallowes ore the plaine   Deme. Chiron we hunt not we,
with Horse nor Hound But hope to plucke a dainty Doe to ground.

Exeunt.

Enter Aaron alone.

Aron. He that had wit, would thinke that I had none, To bury so much
Gold vnder a Tree,

And neuer after to inherit it.

Let him that thinks of me so abiectly,

Know that this Gold must coine a Stratageme, Which cunningly effected,
will beget

A very excellent peece of villany;

And so repose sweet Gold for their vnrest, That haue their Almes out of
the Empresse Chest. Enter Tamora to the Moore.

Tamo. My louely Aaron,

Wherefore look'st thou sad,

When euery thing doth make a Gleefull boast? The Birds chaunt melody on
euery bush,

The Snake lies rolled in the chearefull Sunne, The greene leaues
quiuer, with the cooling winde, And make a cheker'd shadow on the
ground: Vnder their sweete shade, Aaron let vs sit, And whil'st the
babling Eccho mock's the Hounds, Replying shrilly to the well
tun'd-Hornes, As if a double hunt were heard at once,

Let vs sit downe, and marke their yelping noyse: And after conflict,
such as was suppos'd. The wandring Prince and Dido once enioy'd, When
with a happy storme they were surpris'd, And Curtain'd with a
Counsaile-keeping Caue, We may each wreathed in the others armes, (Our
pastimes done) possesse a Golden slumber, Whiles Hounds and Hornes, and
sweet Melodious Birds Be vnto vs, as is a Nurses Song

Of Lullabie, to bring her Babe asleepe

Aron. Madame,

Though Venus gouerne your desires,

Saturne is Dominator ouer mine:

What signifies my deadly standing eye,

My silence, and my Cloudy Melancholie,

My fleece of Woolly haire, that now vncurles, Euen as an Adder when she
doth vnrowle

To do some fatall execution?

No Madam, these are no Veneriall signes,

Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood, and reuenge, are
Hammering in my head. Harke Tamora, the Empresse of my Soule,

Which neuer hopes more heauen, then rests in thee, This is the day of
Doome for Bassianus;

His Philomel must loose her tongue to day, Thy Sonnes make Pillage of
her Chastity,

And wash their hands in Bassianus blood.

Seest thou this Letter, take it vp I pray thee, And giue the King this
fatall plotted Scrowle, Now question me no more, we are espied,

Heere comes a parcell of our hopefull Booty, Which dreads not yet their
liues destruction. Enter Bassianus and Lauinia.

Tamo. Ah my sweet Moore:

Sweeter to me then life

Aron. No more great Empresse, Bassianus comes, Be crosse with him,
and Ile goe fetch thy Sonnes To backe thy quarrell what so ere they be

Bassi. Whom haue we heere?

Romes Royall Empresse,

Vnfurnisht of our well beseeming troope?

Or is it Dian habited like her,

Who hath abandoned her holy Groues,

To see the generall Hunting in this Forrest?   Tamo. Sawcie controuler
of our priuate steps: Had I the power, that some say Dian had,

Thy Temples should be planted presently.

With Hornes, as was Acteons, and the Hounds Should driue vpon his new
transformed limbes, Vnmannerly Intruder as thou art

Laui. Vnder your patience gentle Empresse, 'Tis thought you haue a
goodly gift in Horning, And to be doubted, that your Moore and you Are
singled forth to try experiments:

Ioue sheild your husband from his Hounds to day, 'Tis pitty they should
take him for a Stag

Bassi. Beleeue me Queene, your swarth Cymerion, Doth make your
Honour of his bodies Hue,

Spotted, detested, and abhominable.

Why are you sequestred from all your traine? Dismounted from your
Snow-white goodly Steed, And wandred hither to an obscure plot,

Accompanied with a barbarous Moore,

If foule desire had not conducted you?

Laui. And being intercepted in your sport, Great reason that my Noble
Lord, be rated For Saucinesse, I pray you let vs hence,

And let her ioy her Rauen coloured loue,

This valley fits the purpose passing well

Bassi. The King my Brother shall haue notice of this

Laui. I, for these slips haue made him noted long, Good King, to be
so mightily abused

Tamora. Why I haue patience to endure all this? Enter Chiron and
Demetrius.

Dem. How now deere Soueraigne

And our gracious Mother,

Why doth your Highnes looke so pale and wan?   Tamo. Haue I not reason
thinke you to looke pale. These two haue tic'd me hither to this place,
A barren, detested vale you see it is.

The Trees though Sommer, yet forlorne and leane, Ore-come with Mosse,
and balefull Misselto. Heere neuer shines the Sunne, heere nothing
breeds, Vnlesse the nightly Owle, or fatall Rauen: And when they shew'd
me this abhorred pit, They told me heere at dead time of the night, A
thousand Fiends, a thousand hissing Snakes, Ten thousand swelling
Toades, as many Vrchins, Would make such fearefull and confused cries,
As any mortall body hearing it,

Should straite fall mad, or else die suddenly. No sooner had they told
this hellish tale, But strait they told me they would binde me heere,
Vnto the body of a dismall yew,

And leaue me to this miserable death.

And then they call'd me foule Adulteresse, Lasciuious Goth, and all the
bitterest tearmes That euer eare did heare to such effect.

And had you not by wondrous fortune come, This vengeance on me had they
executed:

Reuenge it, as you loue your Mothers life, Or be ye not henceforth
cal'd my Children

Dem. This is a witnesse that I am thy Sonne.

stab him.

Chi. And this for me,

Strook home to shew my strength

Laui. I come Semeramis, nay Barbarous Tamora. For no name fits thy
nature but thy owne

Tam. Giue me thy poyniard, you shal know my boyes Your Mothers hand
shall right your Mothers wrong

Deme. Stay Madam heere is more belongs to her, First thrash the
Corne, then after burne the straw: This Minion stood vpon her
chastity,

Vpon her Nuptiall vow, her loyaltie.

And with that painted hope, braues your Mightinesse, And shall she
carry this vnto her graue?

Chi. And if she doe,

I would I were an Eunuch,

Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, And make his dead
Trunke-Pillow to our lust

Tamo. But when ye haue the hony we desire, Let not this Waspe
out-liue vs both to sting

Chir. I warrant you Madam we will make that sure: Come Mistris, now
perforce we will enioy, That nice-preserued honesty of yours

Laui. Oh Tamora, thou bear'st a woman face

Tamo. I will not heare her speake, away with her

Laui. Sweet Lords intreat her heare me but a word

Demet. Listen faire Madam, let it be your glory To see her teares,
but be your hart to them, As vnrelenting flint to drops of raine

Laui. When did the Tigers young-ones teach the dam? O doe not learne
her wrath, she taught it thee, The milke thou suck'st from her did
turne to Marble, Euen at thy Teat thou had'st thy Tyranny, Yet euery
Mother breeds not Sonnes alike, Do thou intreat her shew a woman pitty

Chiro. What,

Would'st thou haue me proue my selfe a bastard?   Laui. 'Tis true,

The Rauen doth not hatch a Larke,

Yet haue I heard, Oh could I finde it now, The Lion mou'd with pitty,
did indure

To haue his Princely pawes par'd all away. Some say, that Rauens foster
forlorne children, The whil'st their owne birds famish in their nests:
Oh be to me though thy hard hart say no,

Nothing so kind but something pittifull

Tamo. I know not what it meanes, away with her

Lauin. Oh let me teach thee for my Fathers sake, That gaue thee life
when well he might haue slaine thee: Be not obdurate, open thy deafe
eares

Tamo. Had'st thou in person nere offended me. Euen for his sake am I
pittilesse:

Remember Boyes I powr'd forth teares in vaine, To saue your brother
from the sacrifice,

But fierce Andronicus would not relent,

Therefore away with her, and vse her as you will, The worse to her, the
better lou'd of me

Laui. Oh Tamora,

Be call'd a gentle Queene,

And with thine owne hands kill me in this place, For 'tis not life that
I haue beg'd so long, Poore I was slaine, when Bassianus dy'd

Tam. What beg'st thou then? fond woman let me go?   Laui. 'Tis
present death I beg, and one thing more, That womanhood denies my
tongue to tell:

Oh keepe me from their worse then killing lust, And tumble me into some
loathsome pit,

Where neuer mans eye may behold my body,

Doe this, and be a charitable murderer

Tam. So should I rob my sweet Sonnes of their fee, No let them
satisfie their lust on thee

Deme. Away,

For thou hast staid vs heere too long

Lauinia. No Grace,

No womanhood? Ah beastly creature,

The blot and enemy to our generall name,

Confusion fall-

Chi. Nay then Ile stop your mouth

Bring thou her husband,

This is the Hole where Aaron bid vs hide him

Tam. Farewell my Sonnes, see that you make her sure, Nere let my
heart know merry cheere indeed, Till all the Andronici be made away:

Now will I hence to seeke my louely Moore, And let my spleenefull
Sonnes this Trull defloure. Enter.

Enter Aaron with two of Titus Sonnes.

Aron. Come on my Lords, the better foote before, Straight will I
bring you to the lothsome pit, Where I espied the Panther fast asleepe

Quin. My sight is very dull what ere it bodes

Marti. And mine I promise you, were it not for shame, Well could I
leaue our sport to sleepe a while

Quin. What art thou fallen?

What subtile Hole is this,

Whose mouth is couered with Rude growing Briers, Vpon whose leaues are
drops of new-shed-blood, As fresh as mornings dew distil'd on flowers,
A very fatall place it seemes to me:

Speake Brother hast thou hurt thee with the fall?   Martius. Oh
Brother,

With the dismal'st obiect

That euer eye with sight made heart lament

Aron. Now will I fetch the King to finde them heere, That he thereby
may haue a likely gesse,

How these were they that made away his Brother.

Exit Aaron.

Marti. Why dost not comfort me and helpe me out, From this vnhallow'd
and blood-stained Hole?   Quintus. I am surprised with an vncouth
feare, A chilling sweat ore-runs my trembling ioynts, My heart suspects
more then mine eie can see

Marti. To proue thou hast a true diuining heart,   Aaron and thou
looke downe into this den, And see a fearefull sight of blood and
death

Quintus. Aaron is gone,

And my compassionate heart

Will not permit mine eyes once to behold

The thing whereat it trembles by surmise: Oh tell me how it is, for
nere till now

Was I a child to feare I know not what

Marti. Lord Bassianus lies embrewed heere, All on a heape like to
the slaughtred Lambe, In this detested, darke, blood-drinking pit

Quin. If it be darke, how doost thou know 'tis he?   Mart. Vpon his
bloody finger he doth weare A precious Ring, that lightens all the
Hole: Which like a Taper in some Monument,

Doth shine vpon the dead mans earthly cheekes, And shewes the ragged
intrailes of the pit: So pale did shine the Moone on Piramus,

When he by night lay bath'd in Maiden blood: O Brother helpe me with
thy fainting hand. If feare hath made thee faint, as mee it hath, Out
of this fell deuouring receptacle,

As hatefull as Ocitus mistie mouth

Quint. Reach me thy hand, that I may helpe thee out, Or wanting
strength to doe thee so much good, I may be pluckt into the swallowing
wombe, Of this deepe pit, poore Bassianus graue: I haue no strength to
plucke thee to the brinke

Martius. Nor I no strength to clime without thy help

Quin. Thy hand once more, I will not loose againe, Till thou art
heere aloft, or I below,

Thou can'st not come to me, I come to thee.

Both fall in.

Enter the Emperour, Aaron the Moore.

Satur. Along with me, Ile see what hole is heere, And what he is that
now is leapt into it. Say, who art thou that lately did'st descend,
Into this gaping hollow of the earth?

Marti. The vnhappie sonne of old Andronicus, Brought hither in a most
vnluckie houre,

To finde thy brother Bassianus dead

Satur. My brother dead? I know thou dost but iest, He and his Lady
both are at the Lodge,

Vpon the North-side of this pleasant Chase, 'Tis not an houre since I
left him there

Marti. We know not where you left him all aliue, But out alas, heere
haue we found him dead. Enter Tamora, Andronicus, and Lucius.

Tamo. Where is my Lord the King?

King. Heere Tamora, though grieu'd with killing griefe

Tam. Where is thy brother Bassianus?

King. Now to the bottome dost thou search my wound, Poore Bassianus
heere lies murthered

Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatall writ, The complot of this
timelesse Tragedie,

And wonder greatly that mans face can fold, In pleasing smiles such
murderous Tyrannie.

She giueth Saturnine a Letter.

Saturninus reads the Letter. And if we misse to meete him hansomely,

Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis we meane,

Doe thou so much as dig the graue for him, Thou know'st our meaning,
looke for thy reward Among the Nettles at the Elder tree:

Which ouer-shades the mouth of that same pit: Where we decreed to bury
Bassianuss

Doe this and purchase vs thy lasting friends

King. Oh Tamora, was euer heard the like? This is the pit, and this
the Elder tree, Looke sirs, if you can finde the huntsman out, That
should haue murthered Bassianus heere

Aron. My gracious Lord heere is the bag of Gold

King. Two of thy whelpes, fell Curs of bloody kind Haue heere bereft
my brother of his life: Sirs drag them from the pit vnto the prison,
There let them bide vntill we haue deuis'd Some neuer heard-of
tortering paine for them

Tamo. What are they in this pit,

Oh wondrous thing!

How easily murder is discouered?

Tit. High Emperour, vpon my feeble knee, I beg this boone, with
teares, not lightly shed, That this fell fault of my accursed Sonnes,
Accursed, if the faults be prou'd in them

King. If it be prou'd? you see it is apparant, Who found this
Letter, Tamora was it you?   Tamora. Andronicus himselfe did take it
vp

Tit. I did my Lord,

Yet let me be their baile,

For by my Fathers reuerent Tombe I vow

They shall be ready at your Highnes will, To answere their suspition
with their liues

King. Thou shalt not baile them, see thou follow me: Some bring the
murthered body, some the murtherers, Let them not speake a word, the
guilt is plaine, For by my soule, were there worse end then death, That
end vpon them should be executed

Tamo. Andronicus I will entreat the King, Feare not thy Sonnes, they
shall do well enough

Tit. Come Lucius come,

Stay not to talke with them.

Exeunt.

Enter the Empresse Sonnes, with Lauinia, her hands cut off and her
tongue

cut out, and rauisht.

Deme. So now goe tell and if thy tongue can speake, Who t'was that
cut thy tongue and rauisht thee

Chi. Write downe thy mind, bewray thy meaning so, And if thy stumpes
will let thee play the Scribe

Dem. See how with signes and tokens she can scowle

Chi. Goe home,

Call for sweet water, wash thy hands

Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash. And so let's
leaue her to her silent walkes

Chi. And t'were my cause, I should goe hang my selfe

Dem. If thou had'st hands to helpe thee knit the cord.

Exeunt.

Winde Hornes.

Enter Marcus from hunting, to Lauinia.

Who is this, my Neece that flies away so fast? Cosen a word, where is
your husband?

If I do dreame, would all my wealth would wake me; If I doe wake, some
Planet strike me downe, That I may slumber in eternall sleepe.

Speake gentle Neece, what sterne vngentle hands Hath lopt, and hew'd,
and made thy body bare Of her two branches, those sweet Ornaments Whose
circkling shadowes, Kings haue sought to sleep in And might not gaine
so great a happines

As halfe thy Loue: Why doost not speake to me? Alas, a Crimson riuer of
warme blood,

Like to a bubling fountaine stir'd with winde, Doth rise and fall
betweene thy Rosed lips, Comming and going with thy hony breath.

But sure some Tereus hath defloured thee, And least thou should'st
detect them, cut thy tongue. Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for
shame: And notwithstanding all this losse of blood, As from a Conduit
with their issuing Spouts, Yet doe thy cheekes looke red as Titans
face, Blushing to be encountred with a Cloud,

Shall I speake for thee? shall I say 'tis so? Oh that I knew thy hart,
and knew the beast That I might raile at him to ease my mind. Sorrow
concealed, like an Ouen stopt.

Doth burne the hart to Cinders where it is. Faire Philomela she but
lost her tongue,

And in a tedious Sampler sowed her minde. But louely Neece, that meane
is cut from thee, A craftier Tereus hast thou met withall,

And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, That could haue better sowed
then Philomel. Oh had the monster seene those Lilly hands, Tremble like
Aspen leaues vpon a Lute,

And make the silken strings delight to kisse them, He would not then
haue toucht them for his life. Or had he heard the heauenly Harmony,

Which that sweet tongue hath made:

He would haue dropt his knife and fell asleepe, As Cerberus at the
Thracian Poets feete.

Come, let vs goe, and make thy father blinde, For such a sight will
blinde a fathers eye. One houres storme will drowne the fragrant
meades, What, will whole months of teares thy Fathers eyes? Doe not
draw backe, for we will mourne with thee: Oh could our mourning ease
thy misery.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius.

Enter the Iudges and Senatours with Titus two sonnes bound, passing on

the Stage to the place of execution, and Titus going before pleading.

Ti. Heare me graue fathers, noble Tribunes stay, For pitty of mine
age, whose youth was spent In dangerous warres, whilst you securely
slept: For all my blood in Romes great quarrell shed, For all the
frosty nights that I haue watcht, And for these bitter teares, which
now you see, Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheekes,

Be pittifull to my condemned Sonnes,

Whose soules is not corrupted as 'tis thought: For two and twenty
sonnes I neuer wept,

Because they died in honours lofty bed.

Andronicus lyeth downe, and the Iudges passe by him. For these,
Tribunes, in the dust I write

My harts deepe languor, and my soules sad teares: Let my teares stanch
the earths drie appetite. My sonnes sweet blood, will make it shame and
blush: O earth! I will be friend thee more with raine

Exeunt.

That shall distill from these two ancient ruines, Then youthfull Aprill
shall with all his showres In summers drought: Ile drop vpon thee
still, In Winter with warme teares Ile melt the snow, And keepe
eternall spring time on thy face, So thou refuse to drinke my deare
sonnes blood. Enter Lucius, with his weapon drawne.

Oh reuerent Tribunes, oh gentle aged men, Vnbinde my sonnes, reuerse
the doome of death, And let me say (that neuer wept before)

My teares are now preualing Oratours

Lu. Oh noble father, you lament in vaine, The Tribunes heare not, no
man is by,

And you recount your sorrowes to a stone

Ti. Ah Lucius for thy brothers let me plead, Graue Tribunes, once
more I intreat of you

Lu. My gracious Lord, no Tribune heares you speake

Ti. Why 'tis no matter man, if they did heare They would not marke
me: oh if they did heare They would not pitty me.

Therefore I tell my sorrowes bootles to the stones. Who though they
cannot answere my distresse, Yet in some sort they are better then the
Tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale; When I doe weepe,
they humbly at my feete Receiue my teares, and seeme to weepe with me,
And were they but attired in graue weedes, Rome could afford no Tribune
like to these. A stone is as soft waxe,

Tribunes more hard then stones:

A stone is silent, and offendeth not,

And Tribunes with their tongues doome men to death. But wherefore
stand'st thou with thy weapon drawne?   Lu. To rescue my two brothers
from their death, For which attempt the Iudges haue pronounc'st My
euerlasting doome of banishment

Ti. O happy man, they haue befriended thee: Why foolish Lucius, dost
thou not perceiue That Rome is but a wildernes of Tigers?

Tigers must pray, and Rome affords no prey But me and mine: how happy
art thou then, From these deuourers to be banished?

But who comes with our brother Marcus heere? Enter Marcus and Lauinia.

Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weepe, Or if not so, thy noble
heart to breake:

I bring consuming sorrow to thine age

Ti. Will it consume me? Let me see it then

Mar. This was thy daughter

Ti. Why Marcus so she is

Luc. Aye me this obiect kils me

Ti. Faint-harted boy, arise and looke vpon her, Speake Lauinia, what
accursed hand

Hath made thee handlesse in thy Fathers sight? What foole hath added
water to the Sea?

Or brought a faggot to bright burning Troy? My griefe was at the height
before thou cam'st, And now like Nylus it disdaineth bounds:

Giue me a sword, Ile chop off my hands too, For they haue fought for
Rome, and all in vaine: And they haue nur'st this woe,

In feeding life:

In bootelesse prayer haue they bene held vp, And they haue seru'd me to
effectlesse vse. Now all the seruice I require of them,

Is that the one will helpe to cut the other: 'Tis well Lauinia, that
thou hast no hands, For hands to do Rome seruice, is but vaine

Luci. Speake gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee?   Mar. O that
delightfull engine of her thoughts, That blab'd them with such pleasing
eloquence, Is torne from forth that pretty hollow cage, Where like a
sweet mellodius bird it sung, Sweet varied notes inchanting euery eare

Luci. Oh say thou for her,

Who hath done this deed?

Marc. Oh thus I found her straying in the Parke, Seeking to hide
herselfe as doth the Deare That hath receiude some vnrecuring wound

Tit. It was my Deare,

And he that wounded her,

Hath hurt me more, then had he kild me dead: For now I stand as one
vpon a Rocke,

Inuiron'd with a wildernesse of Sea.

Who markes the waxing tide,

Grow waue by waue,

Expecting euer when some enuious surge,

Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.

This way to death my wretched sonnes are gone: Heere stands my other
sonne, a banisht man, And heere my brother weeping at my woes.

But that which giues my soule the greatest spurne, Is deere Lauinia,
deerer then my soule.

Had I but seene thy picture in this plight, It would haue madded me.
What shall I doe? Now I behold thy liuely body so?

Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy teares, Nor tongue to tell me who
hath martyr'd thee: Thy husband he is dead, and for his death Thy
brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this. Looke Marcus, ah sonne Lucius
looke on her: When I did name her brothers, then fresh teares Stood on
her cheekes, as doth the hony dew, Vpon a gathred Lillie almost
withered

Mar. Perchance she weepes because they kil'd her husband,

Perchance because she knowes him innocent

Ti. If they did kill thy husband then be ioyfull, Because the law
hath tane reuenge on them. No, no, they would not doe so foule a deede,
Witnes the sorrow that their sister makes. Gentle Lauinia let me kisse
thy lips,

Or make some signes how I may do thee ease: Shall thy good Vncle, and
thy brother Lucius, And thou and I sit round about some Fountaine,
Looking all downewards to behold our cheekes How they are stain'd in
meadowes, yet not dry With miery slime left on them by a flood: And in
the Fountaine shall we gaze so long, Till the fresh taste be taken from
that cleerenes, And made a brine pit with our bitter teares? Or shall
we cut away our hands like thine? Or shall we bite our tongues, and in
dumbe shewes Passe the remainder of our hatefull dayes? What shall we
doe? Let vs that haue our tongues Plot some deuise of further miseries

To make vs wondred at in time to come

Lu. Sweet Father cease your teares, for at your griefe See how my
wretched sister sobs and weeps

Mar. Patience deere Neece, good Titus drie thine eyes

Ti. Ah Marcus, Marcus, Brother well I wot, Thy napkin cannot drinke
a teare of mine, For thou poore man hast drown'd it with thine owne

Lu. Ah my Lauinia I will wipe thy cheekes

Ti. Marke Marcus marke, I vnderstand her signes, Had she a tongue to
speake, now would she say That to her brother which I said to thee. His
Napkin with her true teares all bewet, Can do no seruice on her
sorrowfull cheekes. Oh what a simpathy of woe is this!

As farre from helpe as Limbo is from blisse, Enter Aron the Moore
alone.

Moore. Titus Andronicus, my Lord the Emperour, Sends thee this word,
that if thou loue thy sonnes, Let Marcus, Lucius, or thy selfe old
Titus, Or any one of you, chop off your hand,

And send it to the King: he for the same, Will send thee hither both
thy sonnes aliue, And that shall be the ransome for their fault

Ti. Oh gracious Emperour, oh gentle Aaron. Did euer Rauen sing so
like a Larke,

That giues sweet tydings of the Sunnes vprise? With all my heart, Ile
send the Emperour my hand, Good Aron wilt thou help to chop it off?

Lu. Stay Father, for that noble hand of thine, That hath throwne
downe so many enemies,

Shall not be sent: my hand will serue the turne, My youth can better
spare my blood then you, And therfore mine shall saue my brothers
liues

Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended Rome, And rear'd aloft
the bloody Battleaxe,

Writing destruction on the enemies Castle? Oh none of both but are of
high desert:

My hand hath bin but idle, let it serue

To ransome my two nephewes from their death, Then haue I kept it to a
worthy end

Moore. Nay come agree, whose hand shall goe along For feare they die
before their pardon come

Mar. My hand shall goe

Lu. By heauen it shall not goe

Ti. Sirs striue no more, such withered hearbs as these Are meete for
plucking vp, and therefore mine

Lu. Sweet Father, if I shall be thought thy sonne, Let me redeeme my
brothers both from death

Mar. And for our fathers sake, and mothers care, Now let me shew a
brothers loue to thee

Ti. Agree betweene you, I will spare my hand

Lu. Then Ile goe fetch an Axe

Mar. But I will vse the Axe.

Exeunt.

Ti. Come hither Aaron, Ile deceiue them both, Lend me thy hand, and I
will giue thee mine,   Moore. If that be cal'd deceit, I will be
honest, And neuer whil'st I liue deceiue men so:

But Ile deceiue you in another sort,

And that you'l say ere halfe an houre passe.

He cuts off Titus hand.

Enter Lucius and Marcus againe.

Ti. Now stay your strife, what shall be, is dispatcht: Good Aron giue
his Maiestie my hand,

Tell him, it was a hand that warded him

From thousand dangers: bid him bury it:

More hath it merited: That let it haue.

As for my sonnes, say I account of them,

As iewels purchast at an easie price,

And yet deere too, because I bought mine owne

Aron. I goe Andronicus, and for thy hand, Looke by and by to haue
thy sonnes with thee: Their heads I meane: Oh how this villany

Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it. Let fooles doe good, and
faire men call for grace, Aron will haue his soule blacke like his
face. Enter.

Ti. O heere I lift this one hand vp to heauen, And bow this feeble
ruine to the earth,

If any power pitties wretched teares,

To that I call: what wilt thou kneele with me? Doe then deare heart,
for heauen shall heare our prayers, Or with our sighs weele breath the
welkin dimme, And staine the Sun with fogge as somtime cloudes, When
they do hug him in their melting bosomes

Mar. Oh brother speake with possibilities, And do not breake into
these deepe extreames

Ti. Is not my sorrow deepe, hauing no bottome? Then be my passions
bottomlesse with them

Mar. But yet let reason gouerne thy lament

Titus. If there were reason for these miseries, Then into limits
could I binde my woes:

When heauen doth weepe, doth not the earth oreflow? If the windes rage,
doth not the Sea wax mad, Threatning the welkin with his big-swolne
face? And wilt thou haue a reason for this coile? I am the Sea. Harke
how her sighes doe flow: Shee is the weeping welkin, I the earth:

Then must my Sea be moued with her sighes, Then must my earth with her
continuall teares, Become a deluge: ouerflow'd and drown'd:

For why, my bowels cannot hide her woes,

But like a drunkard must I vomit them:

Then giue me leaue, for loosers will haue leaue, To ease their
stomackes with their bitter tongues, Enter a messenger with two heads
and a hand.

Mess. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid, For that good hand thou
sentst the Emperour: Heere are the heads of thy two noble sonnes. And
heeres thy hand in scorne to thee sent backe: Thy griefes, their
sports: Thy resolution mockt, That woe is me to thinke vpon thy woes,

More then remembrance of my fathers death. Enter.

Marc. Now let hot aetna coole in Cicilie, And be my heart an
euer-burning hell:

These miseries are more then may be borne. To weepe with them that
weepe, doth ease some deale, But sorrow flouted at, is double death

Luci. Ah that this sight should make so deep a wound, And yet
detested life not shrinke thereat: That euer death should let life
beare his name, Where life hath no more interest but to breath

Mar. Alas poore hart that kisse is comfortlesse, As frozen water to
a starued snake

Titus. When will this fearefull slumber haue an end?   Mar. Now
farwell flatterie, die Andronicus, Thou dost not slumber, see thy two
sons heads, Thy warlike hands, thy mangled daughter here: Thy other
banisht sonnes with this deere sight Strucke pale and bloodlesse, and
thy brother I, Euen like a stony Image, cold and numme.

Ah now no more will I controule my griefes, Rent off thy siluer haire,
thy other hand Gnawing with thy teeth, and be this dismall sight The
closing vp of our most wretched eyes: Now is a time to storme, why art
thou still?   Titus. Ha, ha, ha,

Mar. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this houre

Ti. Why I haue not another teare to shed: Besides, this sorrow is an
enemy,

And would vsurpe vpon my watry eyes,

And make them blinde with tributarie teares. Then which way shall I
finde Reuenges Caue? For these two heads doe seeme to speake to me, And
threat me, I shall neuer come to blisse, Till all these mischiefes be
returned againe, Euen in their throats that haue committed them. Come
let me see what taske I haue to doe, You heauie people, circle me
about,

That I may turne me to each one of you,

And sweare vnto my soule to right your wrongs. The vow is made, come
Brother take a head, And in this hand the other will I beare.

And Lauinia thou shalt be employd in these things: Beare thou my hand
sweet wench betweene thy teeth: As for thee boy, goe get thee from my
sight, Thou art an Exile, and thou must not stay, Hie to the Gothes,
and raise an army there, And if you loue me, as I thinke you doe,

Let's kisse and part, for we haue much to doe.

Exeunt.

Manet Lucius.

Luci. Farewell Andronicus my noble Father: The woful'st man that euer
liu'd in Rome: Farewell proud Rome, til Lucius come againe, He loues
his pledges dearer then his life: Farewell Lauinia my noble sister,

O would thou wert as thou to fore hast beene, But now, nor Lucius nor
Lauinia liues

But in obliuion and hateful griefes:

If Lucius liue, he will requit your wrongs, And make proud Saturnine
and his Empresse Beg at the gates like Tarquin and his Queene. Now will
I to the Gothes and raise a power, To be reueng'd on Rome and
Saturnine.

Exit Lucius

A Banket.

Enter Andronicus, Marcus, Lauinia, and the Boy.

An. So, so, now sit, and looke you eate no more Then will preserue
iust so much strength in vs As will reuenge these bitter woes of ours.
Marcus vnknit that sorrow-wreathen knot:

Thy Neece and I (poore Creatures) want our hands And cannot passionate
our tenfold griefe, With foulded Armes. This poore right hand of mine,
Is left to tirranize vppon my breast.

Who when my hart all mad with misery,

Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,

Then thus I thumpe it downe.

Thou Map of woe, that thus dost talk in signes, When thy poore hart
beates without ragious beating, Thou canst not strike it thus to make
it still? Wound it with sighing girle, kil it with grones: Or get some
little knife betweene thy teeth, And iust against thy hart make thou a
hole, That all the teares that thy poore eyes let fall May run into
that sinke, and soaking in,

Drowne the lamenting foole, in Sea salt teares

Mar. Fy brother fy, teach her not thus to lay Such violent hands
vppon her tender life

An. How now! Has sorrow made thee doate already? Why Marcus, no man
should be mad but I:

What violent hands can she lay on her life: Ah, wherefore dost thou
vrge the name of hands, To bid Aeneas tell the tale twice ore

How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable? O handle not the theame, to
talke of hands, Least we remember still that we haue none, Fie, fie,
how Frantiquely I square my talke As if we should forget we had no
hands:

If Marcus did not name the word of hands. Come, lets fall too, and
gentle girle eate this, Heere is no drinke? Harke Marcus what she
saies, I can interpret all her martir'd signes,

She saies, she drinkes no other drinke but teares Breu'd with her
sorrow: mesh'd vppon her cheekes, Speechlesse complayner, I will learne
thy thought: In thy dumb action, will I be as perfect

As begging Hermits in their holy prayers. Thou shalt not sighe nor hold
thy stumps to heauen, Nor winke, nor nod, nor kneele, nor make a signe;
But I (of these) will wrest an Alphabet,

And by still practice, learne to know thy meaning

Boy. Good grandsire leaue these bitter deepe laments, Make my Aunt
merry, with some pleasing tale

Mar. Alas, the tender boy in passion mou'd, Doth weepe to see his
grandsires heauinesse

An. Peace tender Sapling, thou art made of teares, And teares will
quickly melt thy life away.

Marcus strikes the dish with a knife.

What doest thou strike at Marcus with knife

Mar. At that that I haue kil'd my Lord, a Fly   An. Out on the
murderour: thou kil'st my hart, Mine eyes cloi'd with view of
Tirranie:

A deed of death done on the Innocent

Becoms not Titus brother: get thee gone,

I see thou art not for my company

Mar. Alas (my Lord) I haue but kild a flie

An. But? How: if that Flie had a father and mother? How would he
hang his slender gilded wings And buz lamenting doings in the ayer,

Poore harmelesse Fly,

That with his pretty buzing melody,

Came heere to make vs merry,

And thou hast kil'd him

Mar. Pardon me sir,

It was a blacke illfauour'd Fly,

Like to the Empresse Moore, therefore I kild him

An. O, o, o,

Then pardon me for reprehending thee,

For thou hast done a Charitable deed:

Giue me thy knife, I will insult on him,

Flattering my selfe, as if it were the Moore, Come hither purposely to
poyson me.

There's for thy selfe, and thats for Tamora: Ah sirra, Yet I thinke we
are not brought so low,

But that betweene vs, we can kill a Fly,

That comes in likenesse of a Cole-blacke Moore

Mar. Alas poore man, griefe ha's so wrought on him, He takes false
shadowes, for true substances

An. Come, take away: Lauinia, goe with me, Ile to thy closset, and
goe read with thee Sad stories, chanced in the times of old. Come boy,
and goe with me, thy sight is young, And thou shalt read, when mine
begin to dazell.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus.

Enter young Lucius and Lauinia running after him, and the Boy flies
from

her with his bookes vnder his arme. Enter Titus and Marcus.

Boy. Helpe Gransier helpe, my Aunt Lauinia, Followes me euery where I
know not why.

Good Vncle Marcus see how swift she comes, Alas sweet Aunt, I know not
what you meane

Mar. Stand by me Lucius, doe not feare thy Aunt

Titus. She loues thee boy too well to doe thee harme   Boy. I when
my father was in Rome she did

Mar. What meanes my Neece Lauinia by these signes?   Ti. Feare not
Lucius, somewhat doth she meane: See Lucius see, how much she makes of
thee: Some whether would she haue thee goe with her. Ah boy, Cornelia
neuer with more care

Read to her sonnes, then she hath read to thee, Sweet Poetry, and
Tullies Oratour:

Canst thou not gesse wherefore she plies thee thus?   Boy. My Lord I
know not I, nor can I gesse, Vnlesse some fit or frenzie do possesse
her: For I haue heard my Gransier say full oft, Extremitie of griefes
would make men mad. And I haue read that Hecuba of Troy,

Ran mad through sorrow, that made me to feare, Although my Lord, I know
my noble Aunt,

Loues me as deare as ere my mother did,

And would not but in fury fright my youth, Which made me downe to throw
my bookes, and flie Causles perhaps, but pardon me sweet Aunt, And
Madam, if my Vncle Marcus goe,

I will most willingly attend your Ladyship

Mar. Lucius I will

Ti. How now Lauinia, Marcus what meanes this? Some booke there is
that she desires to see, Which is it girle of these? Open them boy, But
thou art deeper read and better skild, Come and take choyse of all my
Library,

And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heauens Reueale the damn'd
contriuer of this deed. What booke?

Why lifts she vp her armes in sequence thus?   Mar. I thinke she meanes
that ther was more then one Confederate in the fact, I more there was:
Or else to heauen she heaues them to reuenge

Ti. Lucius what booke is that she tosseth so?   Boy. Grandsier 'tis
Ouids Metamorphosis, My mother gaue it me

Mar. For loue of her that's gone,

Perhaps she culd it from among the rest

Ti. Soft, so busily she turnes the leaues, Helpe her, what would she
finde? Lauinia shall I read? This is the tragicke tale of Philomel?

And treates of Tereus treason and his rape, And rape I feare was roote
of thine annoy

Mar. See brother see, note how she quotes the leaues   Ti. Lauinia,
wert thou thus surpriz'd sweet girle, Rauisht and wrong'd as Philomela
was?

Forc'd in the ruthlesse, vast, and gloomy woods? See, see, I such a
place there is where we did hunt, (O had we neuer, neuer hunted there)

Patern'd by that the Poet heere describes, By nature made for murthers
and for rapes

Mar. O why should nature build so foule a den, Vnlesse the Gods
delight in tragedies?

Ti. Giue signes sweet girle, for heere are none but friends What
Romaine Lord it was durst do the deed? Or slunke not Saturnine, as
Tarquin erst, That left the Campe to sinne in Lucrece bed

Mar. Sit downe sweet Neece, brother sit downe by me, Appollo,
Pallas, Ioue, or Mercury,

Inspire me that I may this treason finde. My Lord looke heere, looke
heere Lauinia.

He writes his Name with his staffe, and guides it with feete and
mouth.

This sandie plot is plaine, guide if thou canst This after me, I haue
writ my name,

Without the helpe of any hand at all.

Curst be that hart that forc'st vs to that shift: Write thou good
Neece, and heere display at last, What God will haue discouered for
reuenge, Heauen guide thy pen to print thy sorrowes plaine, That we may
know the Traytors and the truth.

She takes the staffe in her mouth, and guides it with her stumps and

writes.

Ti. Oh doe ye read my Lord what she hath writ? Stuprum, Chiron,
Demetrius

Mar. What, what, the lustfull sonnes of Tamora, Performers of this
hainous bloody deed?

Ti. Magni Dominator poli,

Tam lentus audis scelera, tam lentus vides?   Mar. Oh calme thee gentle
Lord: Although I know There is enough written vpon this earth,

To stirre a mutinie in the mildest thoughts, And arme the mindes of
infants to exclaimes. My Lord kneele downe with me: Lauinia kneele, And
kneele sweet boy, the Romaine Hectors hope, And sweare with me, as with
the wofull Feere And father of that chast dishonoured Dame, Lord Iunius
Brutus sweare for Lucrece rape, That we will prosecute (by good
aduise)

Mortall reuenge vpon these traytorous Gothes, And see their blood, or
die with this reproach

Ti. Tis sure enough, and you knew how. But if you hunt these
Beare-whelpes, then beware The Dam will wake, and if she winde you
once, Shee's with the Lyon deepely still in league. And lulls him
whilst she playeth on her backe, And when he sleepes will she do what
she list. You are a young huntsman Marcus, let it alone: And come, I
will goe get a leafe of brasse, And with a Gad of steele will write
these words, And lay it by: the angry Northerne winde

Will blow these sands like Sibels leaues abroad, And wheres your lesson
then. Boy what say you?   Boy. I say my Lord, that if I were a man,
Their mothers bed-chamber should not be safe, For these bad bond-men to
the yoake of Rome

Mar. I that's my boy, thy father hath full oft, For his vngratefull
country done the like

Boy. And Vncle so will I, and if I liue

Ti. Come goe with me into mine Armorie, Lucius Ile fit thee, and
withall, my boy

Shall carry from me to the Empresse sonnes, Presents that I intend to
send them both, Come, come, thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not? Boy.
I with my dagger in their bosomes Grandsire:   Ti. No boy not so, Ile
teach thee another course, Lauinia come, Marcus looke to my house,

Lucius and Ile goe braue it at the Court, I marry will we sir, and
weele be waited on.

Exeunt.

Mar. O heauens! Can you heare a good man grone And not relent, or not
compassion him?

Marcus attend him in his extasie,

That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart, Then foe-mens markes vpon
his batter'd shield, But yet so iust, that he will not reuenge, Reuenge
the heauens for old Andronicus.

Exit

Enter Aron, Chiron and Demetrius at one dore: and at another dore
young

Lucius and another, with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ vpon
them.

Chi. Demetrius heeres the sonne of Lucius, He hath some message to
deliuer vs

Aron. I some mad message from his mad Grandfather

Boy. My Lords, with all the humblenesse I may, I greete your honours
from Andronicus,

And pray the Romane Gods confound you both

Deme. Gramercie louely Lucius, what's the newes? For villanie's
markt with rape. May it please you, My Grandsire well aduis'd hath sent
by me, The goodliest weapons of his Armorie,

To gratifie your honourable youth,

The hope of Rome, for so he bad me say:

And so I do and with his gifts present

Your Lordships, when euer you haue need,

You may be armed and appointed well,

And so I leaue you both: like bloody villaines.

Exit

Deme. What's heere? a scrole, & written round about? Let's see.

Integer vit scelerisque purus, non egit maury iaculis nec arcus

Chi. O 'tis a verse in Horace, I know it well. I read it in the
Grammer long agoe

Moore. I iust, a verse in Horace: right, you haue it, Now what a
thing it is to be an Asse?

Heer's no sound iest, the old man hath found their guilt, And sends the
weapons wrapt about with lines, That wound (beyond their feeling) to
the quick: But were our witty Empresse well a foot,

She would applaud Andronicus conceit:

But let her rest, in her vnrest a while.

And now young Lords, was't not a happy starre Led vs to Rome strangers,
and more then so; Captiues, to be aduanced to this height?

It did me good before the Pallace gate,

To braue the Tribune in his brothers hearing

Deme. But me more good, to see so great a Lord Basely insinuate, and
send vs gifts

Moore. Had he not reason Lord Demetrius? Did you not vse his
daughter very friendly?   Deme. I would we had a thousand Romane Dames
At such a bay, by turne to serue our lust

Chi. A charitable wish, and full of loue

Moore. Heere lack's but your mother for to say, Amen

Chi. And that would she for twenty thousand more

Deme. Come, let vs go, and pray to all the Gods For our beloued
mother in her paines

Moore. Pray to the deuils, the gods haue giuen vs ouer.

Flourish.

Dem. Why do the Emperors trumpets flourish thus?   Chi. Belike for
ioy the Emperour hath a sonne

Deme. Soft, who comes heere?

Enter Nurse with a blacke a Moore childe.

Nur. Good morrow Lords:

O tell me, did you see Aaron the Moore?

Aron. Well, more or lesse, or nere a whit at all, Heere Aaron is, and
what with Aaron now?

Nurse. Oh gentle Aaron, we are all vndone. Now helpe, or woe betide
thee euermore

Aron. Why, what a catterwalling dost thou keepe? What dost thou wrap
and fumble in thine armes?   Nurse. O that which I would hide from
heauens eye, Our Empresse shame, and stately Romes disgrace, She is
deliuered Lords, she is deliuered

Aron. To whom?

Nurse. I meane she is brought a bed?

Aron. Wel God giue her good rest,

What hath he sent her?

Nurse. A deuill

Aron. Why then she is the Deuils Dam: a ioyfull issue

Nurse. A ioylesse, dismall, blacke &, sorrowfull issue, Heere is the
babe as loathsome as a toad, Among'st the fairest breeders of our
clime, The Empresse sends it thee, thy stampe, thy seale, And bids thee
christen it with thy daggers point

Aron. Out you whore, is black so base a hue? Sweet blowse, you are a
beautious blossome sure

Deme. Villaine what hast thou done?

Aron. That which thou canst not vndoe

Chi. Thou hast vndone our mother

Deme. And therein hellish dog, thou hast vndone, Woe to her chance,
and damn'd her loathed choyce, Accur'st the off-spring of so foule a
fiend

Chi. It shall not liue

Aron. It shall not die

Nurse. Aaron it must, the mother wils it so

Aron. What, must it Nurse? Then let no man but I Doe execution on my
flesh and blood

Deme. Ile broach the Tadpole on my Rapiers point:   Nurse giue it
me, my sword shall soone dispatch it

Aron. Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels vp. Stay murtherous
villaines, will you kill your brother? Now by the burning Tapers of the
skie,

That shone so brightly when this Boy was got, He dies vpon my Semitars
sharpe point,

That touches this my first borne sonne and heire. I tell you
younglings, not Enceladus

With all his threatning band of Typhons broode, Nor great Alcides, nor
the God of warre,

Shall ceaze this prey out of his fathers hands: What, what, ye sanguine
shallow harted Boyes, Ye white-limb'd walls, ye Ale-house painted
signes, Cole-blacke is better then another hue,

In that it scornes to beare another hue:

For all the water in the Ocean,

Can neuer turne the Swans blacke legs to white, Although she laue them
hourely in the flood: Tell the Empresse from me, I am of age

To keepe mine owne, excuse it how she can   Deme. Wilt thou betray thy
noble mistris thus?   Aron. My mistris is my mistris: this my selfe,
The vigour, and the picture of my youth:

This, before all the world do I preferre, This mauger all the world
will I keepe safe, Or some of you shall smoake for it in Rome

Deme. By this our mother is for euer sham'd

Chi. Rome will despise her for this foule escape

Nur. The Emperour in his rage will doome her death

Chi. I blush to thinke vpon this ignominie

Aron. Why ther's the priuiledge your beauty beares: Fie trecherous
hue, that will betray with blushing The close enacts and counsels of
the hart: Heer's a young Lad fram'd of another leere, Looke how the
blacke slaue smiles vpon the father; As who should say, old Lad I am
thine owne. He is your brother Lords, sensibly fed

Of that selfe blood that first gaue life to you, And from that wombe
where you imprisoned were He is infranchised and come to light:

Nay he is your brother by the surer side, Although my seale be stamped
in his face

Nurse. Aaron what shall I say vnto the Empresse?   Dem. Aduise thee
Aaron, what is to be done, And we will all subscribe to thy aduise:

Saue thou the child, so we may all be safe

Aron. Then sit we downe and let vs all consult. My sonne and I will
haue the winde of you: Keepe there, now talke at pleasure of your
safety

Deme. How many women saw this childe of his?   Aron. Why so braue
Lords, when we ioyne in league I am a Lambe: but if you braue the
Moore, The chafed Bore, the mountaine Lyonesse,

The Ocean swells not so as Aaron stormes: But say againe, how many saw
the childe?

Nurse. Cornelia, the midwife, and my selfe, And none else but the
deliuered Empresse

Aron. The Empresse, the Midwife, and your selfe, Two may keepe
counsell, when the third's away: Goe to the Empresse, tell her this I
said,

He kils her

Weeke, weeke, so cries a Pigge prepared to th' spit

Deme. What mean'st thou Aron?

Wherefore did'st thou this?

Aron. O Lord sir, 'tis a deed of pollicie? Shall she liue to betray
this guilt of our's: A long tongu'd babling Gossip? No Lords no: And
now be it knowne to you my full intent. Not farre, one Muliteus my
Country-man

His wife but yesternight was brought to bed, His childe is like to her,
faire as you are: Goe packe with them, and giue the mother gold, And
tell them both the circumstance of all, And how by this their Childe
shall be aduaunc'd, And be receiued for the Emperours heyre,

And substituted in the place of mine,

To calme this tempest whirling in the Court, And let the Emperour
dandle him for his owne, Harke ye Lords, ye see I haue giuen her
physicke, And you must needs bestow her funerall,

The fields are neere, and you are gallant Groomes: This done, see that
you take no longer daies But send the Midwife presently to me.

The Midwife and the Nurse well made away, Then let the Ladies tattle
what they please

Chi. Aaron I see thou wilt not trust the ayre with secrets

Deme. For this care of Tamora,

Her selfe, and hers are highly bound to thee.

Exeunt

Aron. Now to the Gothes, as swift as Swallow flies, There to dispose
this treasure in mine armes, And secretly to greete the Empresse
friends: Come on you thick-lipt-slaue, Ile beare you hence, For it is
you that puts vs to our shifts: Ile make you feed on berries, and on
rootes, And feed on curds and whay, and sucke the Goate, And cabbin in
a Caue, and bring you vp

To be a warriour, and command a Campe.

Exit

Enter Titus, old Marcus, young Lucius, and other gentlemen with bowes,
and

Titus beares the arrowes with Letters on the end of them.

Tit. Come Marcus, come, kinsmen this is the way. Sir Boy let me see
your Archerie,

Looke yee draw home enough, and 'tis there straight: Terras Astrea
reliquit, be you remembred Marcus. She's gone, she's fled, sirs take
you to your tooles, You Cosens shall goe sound the Ocean:

And cast your nets, haply you may find her in the Sea, Yet ther's as
little iustice as at Land:

No Publius and Sempronius, you must doe it, 'Tis you must dig with
Mattocke, and with Spade, And pierce the inmost Center of the earth:
Then when you come to Plutoes Region,

I pray you deliuer him this petition,

Tell him it is for iustice, and for aide, And that it comes from old
Andronicus,

Shaken with sorrowes in vngratefull Rome. Ah Rome! Well, well, I made
thee miserable, What time I threw the peoples suffrages

On him that thus doth tyrannize ore me.

Goe get you gone, and pray be carefull all, And leaue you not a man of
warre vnsearcht, This wicked Emperour may haue shipt her hence, And
kinsmen then we may goe pipe for iustice

Marc. O Publius is not this a heauie case To see thy Noble Vnckle
thus distract?

Publ. Therefore my Lords it highly vs concernes, By day and night t'
attend him carefully: And feede his humour kindely as we may,

Till time beget some carefull remedie

Marc. Kinsmen, his sorrowes are past remedie. Ioyne with the Gothes,
and with reuengefull warre, Take wreake on Rome for this ingratitude,
And vengeance on the Traytor Saturnine

Tit. Publius how now? how now my Maisters? What haue you met with
her?

Publ. No my good Lord, but Pluto sends you word, If you will haue
reuenge from hell you shall, Marrie for iustice she is so imploy'd,

He thinkes with Ioue in heauen, or some where else: So that perforce
you must needs stay a time

Tit. He doth me wrong to feed me with delayes, Ile diue into the
burning Lake below,

And pull her out of Acaron by the heeles. Marcus we are but shrubs, no
Cedars we,

No big-bon'd-men, fram'd of the Cyclops size, But mettall Marcus steele
to the very backe, Yet wrung with wrongs more then our backe can beare:
And sith there's no iustice in earth nor hell, We will sollicite
heauen, and moue the Gods To send downe Iustice for to wreake our
wrongs: Come to this geare, you are a good Archer Marcus.

He giues them the Arrowes.

Ad Iouem, that's for you: here ad Appollonem, Ad Martem, that's for my
selfe,

Heere Boy to Pallas, heere to Mercury,

To Saturnine, to Caius, not to Saturnine, You were as good to shoote
against the winde. Too it Boy, Marcus loose when I bid:

Of my word, I haue written to effect,

Ther's not a God left vnsollicited

Marc. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the Court, We will afflict
the Emperour in his pride

Tit. Now Maisters draw, Oh well said Lucius: Good Boy in Virgoes
lap, giue it Pallas

Marc. My Lord, I aime a Mile beyond the Moone, Your letter is with
Iupiter by this

Tit. Ha, ha, Publius, Publius, what hast thou done? See, see, thou
hast shot off one of Taurus hornes

Mar. This was the sport my Lord, when Publius shot, The Bull being
gal'd, gaue Aries such a knocke, That downe fell both the Rams hornes
in the Court, And who should finde them but the Empresse villaine: She
laught, and told the Moore he should not choose But giue them to his
Maister for a present

Tit. Why there it goes, God giue your Lordship ioy. Enter the Clowne
with a basket and two Pigeons in it.

Titus. Newes, newes, from heauen,

Marcus the poast is come.

Sirrah, what tydings? haue you any letters? Shall I haue Iustice, what
sayes Iupiter?   Clowne. Ho the Iibbetmaker, he sayes that he hath
taken them downe againe, for the man must not be hang'd till the next
weeke

Tit. But what sayes Iupiter I aske thee?   Clowne. Alas sir I know
not Iupiter:

I neuer dranke with him in all my life

Tit. Why villaine art not thou the Carrier?   Clowne. I of my
Pigions sir, nothing else

Tit. Why, did'st thou not come from heauen?   Clowne. From heauen?
Alas sir, I neuer came there, God forbid I should be so bold, to presse
to heauen in my young dayes. Why I am going with my pigeons to the
Tribunall Plebs, to take vp a matter of brawle, betwixt my Vncle, and
one of the Emperialls men

Mar. Why sir, that is as fit as can be to serue for your Oration,
and let him deliuer the Pigions to the Emperour from you

Tit. Tell mee, can you deliuer an Oration to the Emperour with a
Grace?

Clowne. Nay truely sir, I could neuer say grace in all my life

Tit. Sirrah come hither, make no more adoe, But giue your Pigeons to
the Emperour,

By me thou shalt haue Iustice at his hands. Hold, hold, meane while
her's money for thy charges. Giue me pen and inke.

Sirrah, can you with a Grace deliuer a Supplication?   Clowne. I sir

Titus. Then here is a Supplication for you, and when you come to him,
at the first approach you must kneele, then kisse his foote, then
deliuer vp your Pigeons, and then looke for your reward. Ile be at hand
sir, see you do it brauely

Clowne. I warrant you sir, let me alone

Tit. Sirrha hast thou a knife? Come let me see it. Heere Marcus,
fold it in the Oration,

For thou hast made it like an humble Suppliant: And when thou hast
giuen it the Emperour, Knocke at my dore, and tell me what he sayes

Clowne. God be with you sir, I will.

Enter.

Tit. Come Marcus let vs goe, Publius follow me.

Exeunt.

Enter Emperour and Empresse, and her two sonnes, the Emperour brings
the

Arrowes in his hand that Titus shot at him.

Satur. Why Lords,

What wrongs are these? was euer seene

An Emperour in Rome thus ouerborne,

Troubled, Confronted thus, and for the extent Of egall iustice, vs'd in
such contempt?

My Lords, you know the mightfull Gods,

(How euer these disturbers of our peace

Buz in the peoples eares) there nought hath past, But euen with law
against the willfull Sonnes Of old Andronicus. And what and if

His sorrowes haue so ouerwhelm'd his wits, Shall we be thus afflicted
in his wreakes, His fits, his frenzie, and his bitternesse? And now he
writes to heauen for his redresse. See, heeres to Ioue, and this to
Mercury, This to Apollo, this to the God of warre: Sweet scrowles to
flie about the streets of Rome: What's this but Libelling against the
Senate, And blazoning our Iniustice euery where?

A goodly humour, is it not my Lords?

As who would say, in Rome no Iustice were. But if I liue, his fained
extasies

Shall be no shelter to these outrages:

But he and his shall know, that Iustice liues In Saturninus health;
whom if he sleepe,

Hee'l so awake, as he in fury shall

Cut off the proud'st Conspirator that liues

Tamo. My gracious Lord, my louely Saturnine, Lord of my life,
Commander of my thoughts, Calme thee, and beare the faults of Titus
age, Th' effects of sorrow for his valiant Sonnes, Whose losse hath
pier'st him deepe, and scar'd his heart; And rather comfort his
distressed plight, Then prosecute the meanest or the best

For these contempts. Why thus it shall become High witted Tamora to
glose with all:

Aside.

But Titus, I haue touch'd thee to the quicke, Thy life blood out: If
Aaron now be wise, Then is all safe, the Anchor's in the Port. Enter
Clowne.

How now good fellow, would'st thou speake with vs?   Clow. Yea
forsooth, and your Mistership be Emperiall

Tam. Empresse I am, but yonder sits the Emperour

Clo. 'Tis he; God & Saint Stephen giue you good den; I haue brought
you a Letter, & a couple of Pigions heere.

He reads the Letter.

Satu. Goe take him away, and hang him presently

Clowne. How much money must I haue?

Tam. Come sirrah you must be hang'd

Clow. Hang'd? ber Lady, then I haue brought vp a neck to a faire
end.

Enter.

Satu. Despightfull and intollerable wrongs, Shall I endure this
monstrous villany?

I know from whence this same deuise proceedes: May this be borne? As if
his traytrous Sonnes, That dy'd by law for murther of our Brother, Haue
by my meanes beene butcher'd wrongfully? Goe dragge the villaine hither
by the haire, Nor Age, nor Honour, shall shape priuiledge: For this
proud mocke, Ile be thy slaughter man: Sly franticke wretch, that
holp'st to make me great, In hope thy selfe should gouerne Rome and me.
Enter Nuntius Emillius.

Satur. What newes with thee Emillius?

Emil. Arme my Lords, Rome neuer had more cause, The Gothes haue
gather'd head, and with a power Of high resolued men, bent to the
spoyle

They hither march amaine, vnder conduct

Of Lucius, Sonne to old Andronicus:

Who threats in course of this reuenge to do As much as euer Coriolanus
did

King. Is warlike Lucius Generall of the Gothes? These tydings nip
me, and I hang the head As flowers with frost, or grasse beat downe
with stormes: I, now begins our sorrowes to approach,

'Tis he the common people loue so much,

My selfe hath often heard them say,

(When I haue walked like a priuate man)

That Lucius banishment was wrongfully,

And they haue wisht that Lucius were their Emperour

Tam. Why should you feare? Is not our City strong?   King. I, but
the Cittizens fauour Lucius, And will reuolt from me, to succour him

Tam. King, be thy thoughts Imperious like thy name. Is the Sunne
dim'd, that Gnats do flie in it? The Eagle suffers little Birds to
sing,

And is not carefull what they meane thereby, Knowing that with the
shadow of his wings, He can at pleasure stint their melodie.

Euen so mayest thou, the giddy men of Rome, Then cheare thy spirit, for
know thou Emperour, I will enchaunt the old Andronicus,

With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous Then baites to fish, or
hony stalkes to sheepe, When as the one is wounded with the baite, The
other rotted with delicious foode

King. But he will not entreat his Sonne for vs

Tam. If Tamora entreat him, then he will, For I can smooth and fill
his aged eare,

With golden promises, that were his heart Almost Impregnable, his old
eares deafe,

Yet should both eare and heart, obey my tongue. Goe thou before to our
Embassadour,

Say, that the Emperour requests a parly

Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting

King. Emillius do this message Honourably, And if he stand in
Hostage for his safety, Bid him demaund what pledge will please him
best

Emill. Your bidding shall I do effectually. Enter.

Tam. Now will I to that old Andronicus, And temper him with all the
Art I haue,

To plucke proud Lucius from the warlike Gothes. And now sweet Emperour
be blithe againe,

And bury all thy feare in my deuises

Satu. Then goe successantly and plead for him. Enter.



Actus Quintus.

Flourish. Enter Lucius with an Army of Gothes, with Drum and
Souldiers.

Luci. Approued warriours, and my faithfull Friends, I haue receiued
Letters from great Rome,

Which signifies what hate they beare their Emperour, And how desirous
of our sight they are.

Therefore great Lords, be as your Titles witnesse, Imperious and
impatient of your wrongs,

And wherein Rome hath done you any scathe, Let him make treble
satisfaction

Goth. Braue slip, sprung from the Great Andronicus, Whose name was
once our terrour, now our comfort, Whose high exploits, and honourable
Deeds, Ingratefull Rome requites with foule contempt: Behold in vs,
weele follow where thou lead'st, Like stinging Bees in hottest Sommers
day, Led by their Maister to the flowred fields, And be aueng'd on
cursed Tamora:

And as he saith, so say we all with him

Luci. I humbly thanke him, and I thanke you all. But who comes
heere, led by a lusty Goth? Enter a Goth leading of Aaron with his
child in his armes.

Goth. Renowned Lucius, from our troups I straid, To gaze vpon a
ruinous Monasterie,

And as I earnestly did fixe mine eye

Vpon the wasted building, suddainely

I heard a childe cry vnderneath a wall:

I made vnto the noyse, when soone I heard, The crying babe control'd
with this discourse: Peace Tawny slaue, halfe me, and halfe thy Dam,
Did not thy Hue bewray whose brat thou art? Had nature lent thee, but
thy Mothers looke, Villaine thou might'st haue bene an Emperour. But
where the Bull and Cow are both milk-white, They neuer do beget a
cole-blacke-Calfe:

Peace, villaine peace, euen thus he rates the babe, For I must beare
thee to a trusty Goth,

Who when he knowes thou art the Empresse babe, Will hold thee dearely
for thy Mothers sake. With this, my weapon drawne I rusht vpon him,
Surpriz'd him suddainely, and brought him hither To vse, as you thinke
needefull of the man

Luci. Oh worthy Goth, this is the incarnate deuill, That rob'd
Andronicus of his good hand:

This is the Pearle that pleas'd your Empresse eye, And heere's the Base
Fruit of his burning lust. Say wall-ey'd slaue, whether would'st thou
conuay This growing Image of thy fiend-like face? Why dost not speake?
what deafe? Not a word? A halter Souldiers, hang him on this Tree, And
by his side his Fruite of Bastardie

Aron. Touch not the Boy, he is of Royall blood

Luci. Too like the Syre for euer being good. First hang the Child
that he may see it sprall, A sight to vexe the Fathers soule withall

Aron. Get me a Ladder Lucius, saue the Childe, And beare it from me
to the Empresse:

If thou do this, Ile shew thee wondrous things, That highly may
aduantage thee to heare;

If thou wilt not, befall what may befall, Ile speake no more: but
vengeance rot you all

Luci. Say on, and if it please me which thou speak'st, Thy child
shall liue, and I will see it Nourisht

Aron. And if it please thee? why assure thee Lucius, 'Twill vexe thy
soule to heare what I shall speake: For I must talke of Murthers,
Rapes, and Massacres, Acts of Blacke-night, abhominable Deeds,

Complots of Mischiefe, Treason, Villanies Ruthfull to heare, yet
pittiously perform'd, And this shall all be buried by my death, Vnlesse
thou sweare to me my Childe shall liue

Luci. Tell on thy minde,

I say thy Childe shall liue

Aron. Sweare that he shall, and then I will begin

Luci. Who should I sweare by,

Thou beleeuest no God,

That graunted, how can'st thou beleeue an oath?   Aron. What if I do
not, as indeed I do not, Yet for I know thou art Religious,

And hast a thing within thee, called Conscience, With twenty Popish
trickes and Ceremonies, Which I haue seene thee carefull to obserue:
Therefore I vrge thy oath, for that I know An Ideot holds his Bauble
for a God,

And keepes the oath which by that God he sweares, To that Ile vrge him:
therefore thou shalt vow By that same God, what God so ere it be

That thou adorest, and hast in reuerence, To saue my Boy, to nourish
and bring him vp, Ore else I will discouer nought to thee

Luci. Euen by my God I sweare to thee I will

Aron. First know thou,

I begot him on the Empresse

Luci. Oh most Insatiate luxurious woman!   Aron. Tut Lucius, this
was but a deed of Charitie, To that which thou shalt heare of me anon,
'Twas her two Sonnes that murdered Bassianus, They cut thy Sisters
tongue, and rauisht her, And cut her hands off, and trim'd her as thou
saw'st

Lucius. Oh detestable villaine!

Call'st thou that Trimming?

Aron. Why she was washt, and cut, and trim'd, And 'twas trim sport
for them that had the doing of it

Luci. Oh barbarous beastly villaines like thy selfe!   Aron.
Indeede, I was their Tutor to instruct them That Codding spirit had
they from their Mother, As sure a Card as euer wonne the Set:

That bloody minde I thinke they learn'd of me, As true a Dog as euer
fought at head.

Well, let my Deeds be witnesse of my worth: I trayn'd thy Bretheren to
that guilefull Hole, Where the dead Corps of Bassianus lay:

I wrote the Letter, that thy Father found, And hid the Gold within the
Letter mention'd. Confederate with the Queene, and her two Sonnes, And
what not done, that thou hast cause to rue, Wherein I had no stroke of
Mischeife in it. I play'd the Cheater for thy Fathers hand, And when I
had it, drew my selfe apart,

And almost broke my heart with extreame laughter. I pried me through
the Creuice of a Wall, When for his hand, he had his two Sonnes heads,
Beheld his teares, and laught so hartily, That both mine eyes were
rainie like to his: And when I told the Empresse of this sport, She
sounded almost at my pleasing tale,

And for my tydings, gaue me twenty kisses

Goth. What canst thou say all this, and neuer blush?   Aron. I, like
a blacke Dogge, as the saying is

Luci. Art thou not sorry for these hainous deedes?   Aron. I, that I
had not done a thousand more: Euen now I curse the day, and yet I
thinke Few come within few compasse of my curse, Wherein I did not some
Notorious ill,

As kill a man, or else deuise his death,

Rauish a Maid, or plot the way to do it,

Accuse some Innocent, and forsweare my selfe, Set deadly Enmity
betweene two Friends,

Make poore mens Cattell breake their neckes, Set fire on Barnes and
Haystackes in the night, And bid the Owners quench them with the
teares: Oft haue I dig'd vp dead men from their graues, And set them
vpright at their deere Friends doore, Euen when their sorrowes almost
was forgot, And on their skinnes, as on the Barke of Trees, Haue with
my knife carued in Romaine Letters, Let not your sorrow die, though I
am dead. Tut, I haue done a thousand dreadfull things As willingly, as
one would kill a Fly,

And nothing greeues me hartily indeede,

But that I cannot doe ten thousand more

Luci. Bring downe the diuell, for he must not die So sweet a death
as hanging presently

Aron. If there be diuels, would I were a deuill, To liue and burne
in euerlasting fire,

So I might haue your company in hell,

But to torment you with my bitter tongue

Luci. Sirs stop his mouth, & let him speake no more. Enter
Emillius.

Goth. My Lord, there is a Messenger from Rome Desires to be admitted
to your presence

Luc. Let him come neere.

Welcome Emillius, what the newes from Rome?   Emi. Lord Lucius, and you
Princes of the Gothes, The Romaine Emperour greetes you all by me, And
for he vnderstands you are in Armes,

He craues a parly at your Fathers house

Willing you to demand your Hostages,

And they shall be immediately deliuered

Goth. What saies our Generall?

Luc. Emillius, let the Emperour giue his pledges Vnto my Father, and
my Vncle Marcus,

Flourish.

And we will come: march away.

Exeunt.

Enter Tamora, and her two Sonnes disguised.

Tam. Thus in this strange and sad Habilliament, I will encounter with
Andronicus,

And say, I am Reuenge sent from below,

To ioyne with him and right his hainous wrongs: Knocke at his study
where they say he keepes, To ruminate strange plots of dire Reuenge,
Tell him Reuenge is come to ioyne with him, And worke confusion on his
Enemies.

They knocke and Titus opens his study dore.

Tit. Who doth mollest my Contemplation? Is it your tricke to make me
ope the dore, That so my sad decrees may flie away,

And all my studie be to no effect?

You are deceiu'd, for what I meane to do, See heere in bloody lines I
haue set downe: And what is written shall be executed

Tam. Titus, I am come to talke with thee,   Tit. No not a word: how
can I grace my talke, Wanting a hand to giue it action,

Thou hast the ods of me, therefore no more

Tam. If thou did'st know me,

Thou would'st talke with me

Tit. I am not mad, I know thee well enough, Witnesse this wretched
stump,

Witnesse these crimson lines,

Witnesse these Trenches made by griefe and care, Witnesse the tyring
day, and heauie night, Witnesse all sorrow, that I know thee well For
our proud Empresse, Mighty Tamora:

Is not thy comming for my other hand?

Tamo. Know thou sad man, I am not Tamora, She is thy Enemie, and I
thy Friend,

I am Reuenge sent from th' infernall Kingdome, To ease the gnawing
Vulture of the mind,

By working wreakefull vengeance on my Foes: Come downe and welcome me
to this worlds light, Conferre with me of Murder and of Death,

Ther's not a hollow Caue or lurking place, No Vast obscurity, or Misty
vale,

Where bloody Murther or detested Rape,

Can couch for feare, but I will finde them out, And in their eares tell
them my dreadfull name, Reuenge, which makes the foule offenders quake

Tit. Art thou Reuenge? and art thou sent to me, To be a torment to
mine Enemies?

Tam. I am, therefore come downe and welcome me

Tit. Doe me some seruice ere I come to thee: Loe by thy side where
Rape and Murder stands, Now giue some surance that thou art Reuenge,
Stab them, or teare them on thy Chariot wheeles, And then Ile come and
be thy Waggoner,

And whirle along with thee about the Globes. Prouide thee two proper
Palfries, as blacke as Iet, To hale thy vengefull Waggon swift away,

And finde out Murder in their guilty cares. And when thy Car is loaden
with their heads, I will dismount, and by the Waggon wheele, Trot like
a Seruile footeman all day long, Euen from Eptons rising in the East,

Vntill his very downefall in the Sea.

And day by day Ile do this heauy taske,

So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there

Tam. These are my Ministers, and come with me

Tit. Are them thy Ministers, what are they call'd?   Tam. Rape and
Murder, therefore called so, Cause they take vengeance of such kind of
men

Tit. Good Lord how like the Empresse Sons they are, And you the
Empresse: But we worldly men, Haue miserable mad mistaking eyes:

Oh sweet Reuenge, now do I come to thee,

And if one armes imbracement will content thee, I will imbrace thee in
it by and by

Tam. This closing with him, fits his Lunacie, What ere I forge to
feede his braine-sicke fits, Do you vphold, and maintaine in your
speeches, For now he firmely takes me for Reuenge,

And being Credulous in this mad thought,

Ile make him send for Lucius his Sonne,

And whil'st I at a Banquet hold him sure, Ile find some cunning
practise out of hand To scatter and disperse the giddie Gothes, Or at
the least make them his Enemies:

See heere he comes, and I must play my theame

Tit. Long haue I bene forlorne, and all for thee, Welcome dread Fury
to my woefull house,

Rapine and Murther, you are welcome too,

How like the Empresse and her Sonnes you are. Well are you fitted, had
you but a Moore, Could not all hell afford you such a deuill? For well
I wote the Empresse neuer wags;

But in her company there is a Moore,

And would you represent our Queene aright It were conuenient you had
such a deuill: But welcome as you are, what shall we doe?   Tam. What
would'st thou haue vs doe Andronicus?   Dem. Shew me a Murtherer, Ile
deale with him

Chi. Shew me a Villaine that hath done a Rape, And I am sent to be
reueng'd on him

Tam. Shew me a thousand that haue done thee wrong, And Ile be
reuenged on them all

Tit. Looke round about the wicked streets of Rome, And when thou
find'st a man that's like thy selfe, Good Murder stab him, hee's a
Murtherer.

Goe thou with him, and when it is thy hap To finde another that is like
to thee,

Good Rapine stab him, he is a Rauisher.

Go thou with them, and in the Emperours Court, There is a Queene
attended by a Moore,

Well maist thou know her by thy owne proportion, For vp and downe she
doth resemble thee.

I pray thee doe on them some violent death, They haue bene violent to
me and mine

Tam. Well hast thou lesson'd vs, this shall we do. But would it
please thee good Andronicus, To send for Lucius thy thrice Valiant
Sonne, Who leades towards Rome a Band of Warlike Gothes, And bid him
come and Banquet at thy house. When he is heere, euen at thy Solemne
Feast, I will bring in the Empresse and her Sonnes, The Emperour
himselfe, and all thy Foes,

And at thy mercy shall they stoop, and kneele, And on them shalt thou
ease, thy angry heart: What saies Andronicus to this deuise?

Enter Marcus.

Tit. Marcus my Brother, 'tis sad Titus calls, Go gentle Marcus to thy
Nephew Lucius,

Thou shalt enquire him out among the Gothes, Bid him repaire to me, and
bring with him Some of the chiefest Princes of the Gothes, Bid him
encampe his Souldiers where they are, Tell him the Emperour, and the
Empresse too, Feasts at my house, and he shall Feast with them, This do
thou for my loue, and so let him, As he regards his aged Fathers life

Mar. This will I do, and soone returne againe

Tam. Now will I hence about thy businesse, And take my Ministers
along with me

Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me, Or els Ile call my
Brother backe againe,

And cleaue to no reuenge but Lucius

Tam. What say you Boyes, will you bide with him, Whiles I goe tell
my Lord the Emperour,

How I haue gouern'd our determined iest?

Yeeld to his Humour, smooth and speake him faire, And tarry with him
till I turne againe

Tit. I know them all, though they suppose me mad, And will ore-reach
them in their owne deuises, A payre of cursed hell-hounds and their
Dam

Dem. Madam depart at pleasure, leaue vs heere

Tam. Farewell Andronicus, reuenge now goes To lay a complot to
betray thy Foes

Tit. I know thou doo'st, and sweet reuenge farewell

Chi. Tell vs old man, how shall we be imploy'd?   Tit. Tut, I haue
worke enough for you to doe, Publius come hither, Caius, and Valentine

Pub. What is your will?

Tit. Know you these two?

Pub. The Empresse Sonnes

I take them, Chiron, Demetrius

Titus. Fie Publius, fie, thou art too much deceau'd, The one is
Murder, Rape is the others name, And therefore bind them gentle
Publius,

Caius, and Valentine, lay hands on them,

Oft haue you heard me wish for such an houre, And now I find it,
therefore binde them sure,   Chi. Villaines forbeare, we are the
Empresse Sonnes

Pub. And therefore do we, what we are commanded. Stop close their
mouthes, let them not speake a word, Is he sure bound, looke that you
binde them fast.

Exeunt.

Enter Titus Andronicus with a knife, and Lauinia with a Bason.

Tit. Come, come Lauinia, looke, thy Foes are bound, Sirs stop their
mouthes, let them not speake to me, But let them heare what fearefull
words I vtter. Oh Villaines, Chiron, and Demetrius,

Here stands the spring whom you haue stain'd with mud, This goodly
Sommer with your Winter mixt, You kil'd her husband, and for that vil'd
fault, Two of her Brothers were condemn'd to death, My hand cut off,
and made a merry iest,

Both her sweet Hands, her Tongue, and that more deere Then Hands or
tongue, her spotlesse Chastity, Inhumaine Traytors, you constrain'd and
for'st. What would you say, if I should let you speake? Villaines for
shame you could not beg for grace. Harke Wretches, how I meane to
martyr you, This one Hand yet is left, to cut your throats, Whil'st
that Lauinia tweene her stumps doth hold: The Bason that receiues your
guilty blood. You know your Mother meanes to feast with me, And calls
herselfe Reuenge, and thinkes me mad. Harke Villaines, I will grin'd
your bones to dust, And with your blood and it, Ile make a Paste, And
of the Paste a Coffen I will reare,

And make two Pasties of your shamefull Heads, And bid that strumpet
your vnhallowed Dam, Like to the earth swallow her increase.

This is the Feast, that I haue bid her to, And this the Banquet she
shall surfet on, For worse then Philomel you vsd my Daughter, And worse
then Progne, I will be reueng'd, And now prepare your throats: Lauinia
come. Receiue the blood, and when that they are dead, Let me goe grin'd
their Bones to powder small, And with this hatefull Liquor temper it,

And in that Paste let their vil'd Heads be bakte, Come, come, be euery
one officious,

To make this Banket, which I wish might proue, More sterne and bloody
then the Centaures Feast. He cuts their throats.

So now bring them in, for Ile play the Cooke, And see them ready,
gainst their Mother comes.

Exeunt.

Enter Lucius, Marcus, and the Gothes.

Luc. Vnckle Marcus, since 'tis my Fathers minde That I repair to
Rome, I am content

Goth. And ours with thine befall, what Fortune will

Luc. Good Vnckle take you in this barbarous Moore, This Rauenous
Tiger, this accursed deuill, Let him receiue no sustenance, fetter him,
Till he be brought vnto the Emperours face, For testimony of her foule
proceedings.

And see the Ambush of our Friends be strong, If ere the Emperour meanes
no good to vs

Aron. Some deuill whisper curses in my eare, And prompt me that my
tongue may vtter forth, The Venemous Mallice of my swelling heart

Luc. Away Inhumaine Dogge, Vnhallowed Slaue, Sirs, helpe our Vnckle,
to conuey him in,

Flourish.

The Trumpets shew the Emperour is at hand.

Sound Trumpets. Enter Emperour and Empresse, with Tribunes and others.

Sat. What, hath the Firemament more Suns then one?   Luc. What bootes
it thee to call thy selfe a Sunne?   Mar. Romes Emperour & Nephewe
breake the parle These quarrels must be quietly debated,

The Feast is ready which the carefull Titus, Hath ordained to an
Honourable end,

For Peace, for Loue, for League, and good to Rome: Please you therfore
draw nie and take your places

Satur. Marcus we will.

Hoboyes.

A Table brought in. Enter Titus like a Cooke, placing the meat on the

Table, and Lauinia with a vale ouer her face.

Titus. Welcome my gracious Lord,

Welcome Dread Queene,

Welcome ye Warlike Gothes, welcome Lucius, And welcome all: although
the cheere be poore, 'Twill fill your stomacks, please you eat of it

Sat. Why art thou thus attir'd Andronicus?   Tit. Because I would be
sure to haue all well, To entertaine your Highnesse, and your Empresse

Tam. We are beholding to you good Andronicus?   Tit. And if your
Highnesse knew my heart, you were: My Lord the Emperour resolue me
this,

Was it well done of rash Virginius,

To slay his daughter with his owne right hand. Because she was
enfor'st, stain'd, and deflowr'd?   Satur. It was Andronicus

Tit. Your reason, Mighty Lord?

Sat. Because the Girle, should not suruiue her shame, And by her
presence still renew his sorrowes

Tit. A reason mighty, strong, and effectuall, A patterne, president,
and liuely warrant, For me (most wretched) to performe the like: Die,
die, Lauinia, and thy shame with thee, And with thy shame, thy Fathers
sorrow die.

He kils her.

Sat. What hast done, vnnaturall and vnkinde?   Tit. Kil'd her for
whom my teares haue made me blind. I am as wofull as Virginius was,

And haue a thousand times more cause then he

Sat. What was she rauisht? tell who did the deed,   Tit. Wilt please
you eat,

Wilt please your Highnesse feed?

Tam. Why hast thou slaine thine onely Daughter?   Titus. Not I, 'twas
Chiron and Demetrius, They rauisht her, and cut away her tongue, And
they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong

Satu. Go fetch them hither to vs presently

Tit. Why there they are both, baked in that Pie, Whereof their
Mother daintily hath fed,

Eating the flesh that she herselfe hath bred. 'Tis true, 'tis true,
witnesse my kniues sharpe point.

He stabs the Empresse.

Satu. Die franticke wretch, for this accursed deed

Luc. Can the Sonnes eye, behold his Father bleed? There's meede for
meede, death for a deadly deed

Mar. You sad fac'd men, people and Sonnes of Rome, By vprores
seuer'd like a flight of Fowle, Scattred by windes and high tempestuous
gusts: Oh let me teach you how, to knit againe

This scattred Corne, into one mutuall sheafe, These broken limbs againe
into one body

Goth. Let Rome herselfe be bane vnto herselfe, And shee whom mightie
kingdomes cursie too, Like a forlorne and desperate castaway,

Doe shamefull execution on her selfe.

But if my frostie signes and chaps of age, Graue witnesses of true
experience,

Cannot induce you to attend my words,

Speake Romes deere friend, as er'st our Auncestor, When with his
solemne tongue he did discourse To loue-sicke Didoes sad attending
eare,

The story of that balefull burning night, When subtil Greekes surpriz'd
King Priams Troy: Tell vs what Sinon hath bewicht our eares, Or who
hath brought the fatall engine in, That giues our Troy, our Rome the
ciuill wound. My heart is not compact of flint nor steele, Nor can I
vtter all our bitter griefe,

But floods of teares will drowne my Oratorie, And breake my very
vttrance, euen in the time When it should moue you to attend me most,
Lending your kind hand Commiseration.

Heere is a Captaine, let him tell the tale, Your hearts will throb and
weepe to heare him speake

Luc. This Noble Auditory, be it knowne to you, That cursed Chiron
and Demetrius

Were they that murdred our Emperours Brother, And they it were that
rauished our Sister, For their fell faults our Brothers were beheaded,
Our Fathers teares despis'd, and basely cousen'd, Of that true hand
that fought Romes quarrell out, And sent her enemies vnto the graue.

Lastly, my selfe vnkindly banished,

The gates shut on me, and turn'd weeping out, To beg reliefe among
Romes Enemies,

Who drown'd their enmity in my true teares, And op'd their armes to
imbrace me as a Friend: And I am turned forth, be it knowne to you,
That haue preseru'd her welfare in my blood, And from her bosome tooke
the Enemies point, Sheathing the steele in my aduentrous body. Alas you
know, I am no Vaunter I,

My scars can witnesse, dumbe although they are, That my report is iust
and full of truth: But soft, me thinkes I do digresse too much, Cyting
my worthlesse praise: Oh pardon me, For when no Friends are by, men
praise themselues,   Marc. Now is my turne to speake: Behold this
Child, Of this was Tamora deliuered,

The issue of an Irreligious Moore,

Chiefe Architect and plotter of these woes, The Villaine is aliue in
Titus house,

And as he is, to witnesse this is true.

Now iudge what course had Titus to reuenge These wrongs, vnspeakeable
past patience, Or more then any liuing man could beare.

Now you haue heard the truth, what say you Romaines? Haue we done ought
amisse? shew vs wherein, And from the place where you behold vs now,
The poore remainder of Andronici,

Will hand in hand all headlong cast vs downe, And on the ragged stones
beat forth our braines, And make a mutuall closure of our house:

Speake Romaines speake, and if you say we shall, Loe hand in hand,
Lucius and I will fall

Emilli. Come come, thou reuerent man of Rome, And bring our Emperour
gently in thy hand, Lucius our Emperour: for well I know,

The common voyce do cry it shall be so

Mar. Lucius, all haile Romes Royall Emperour, Goe, goe into old
Titus sorrowfull house, And hither hale that misbelieuing Moore,

To be adiudg'd some direfull slaughtering death, As punishment for his
most wicked life.

Lucius all haile to Romes gracious Gouernour

Luc. Thankes gentle Romanes, may I gouerne so, To heale Romes
harmes, and wipe away her woe. But gentle people, giue me ayme
a-while,

For Nature puts me to a heauy taske:

Stand all aloofe, but Vnckle draw you neere, To shed obsequious teares
vpon this Trunke: Oh take this warme kisse on thy pale cold lips, These
sorrowfull drops vpon thy bloud-slaine face, The last true Duties of
thy Noble Sonne

Mar. Teare for teare, and louing kisse for kisse, Thy Brother Marcus
tenders on thy Lips:

O were the summe of these that I should pay Countlesse, and infinit,
yet would I pay them

Luc. Come hither Boy, come, come, and learne of vs To melt in
showres: thy Grandsire lou'd thee well: Many a time he danc'd thee on
his knee:

Sung thee asleepe, his Louing Brest, thy Pillow: Many a matter hath he
told to thee,

Meete, and agreeing with thine Infancie:

In that respect then, like a louing Childe, Shed yet some small drops
from thy tender Spring, Because kinde Nature doth require it so:

Friends, should associate Friends, in Greefe and Wo. Bid him farwell,
commit him to the Graue, Do him that kindnesse, and take leaue of him

Boy. O Grandsire, Grandsire: euen with all my heart Would I were
Dead, so you did Liue againe. O Lord, I cannot speake to him for
weeping, My teares will choake me, if I ope my mouth

Romans. You sad Andronici, haue done with woes, Giue sentence on
this execrable Wretch,

That hath beene breeder of these dire euents

Luc. Set him brest deepe in earth, and famish him: There let him
stand, and raue, and cry for foode: If any one releeues, or pitties
him,

For the offence, he dyes. This is our doome: Some stay, to see him
fast'ned in the earth

Aron. O why should wrath be mute, & Fury dumbe? I am no Baby I, that
with base Prayers

I should repent the Euils I haue done.

Ten thousand worse, then euer yet I did,

Would I performe if I might haue my will: If one good Deed in all my
life I did,

I do repent it from my very Soule

Lucius. Some louing Friends conuey the Emp[erour]. hence, And giue
him buriall in his Fathers graue. My Father, and Lauinia, shall
forthwith

Be closed in our Housholds Monument:

As for that heynous Tyger Tamora,

No Funerall Rite, nor man in mournfull Weeds: No mournfull Bell shall
ring her Buriall: But throw her foorth to Beasts and Birds of prey: Her
life was Beast-like, and deuoid of pitty, And being so, shall haue like
want of pitty. See Iustice done on Aaron that damn'd Moore, From whom,
our heauy happes had their beginning: Then afterwards, to Order well
the State, That like Euents, may ne're it Ruinate.

Exeunt. omnes.



FINIS. The Lamentable Tragedy of Titus Andronicus.



The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Sampson and Gregory, with Swords and Bucklers, of the House of

Capulet.

Sampson. Gregory: A my word wee'l not carry coales

Greg. No, for then we should be Colliars

Samp. I mean, if we be in choller, wee'l draw

Greg. I, While you liue, draw your necke out o'th Collar

Samp. I strike quickly, being mou'd

Greg. But thou art not quickly mou'd to strike

Samp. A dog of the house of Mountague, moues me

Greg. To moue, is to stir: and to be valiant, is to stand:
Therefore, if thou art mou'd, thou runst away

Samp. A dogge of that house shall moue me to stand. I will take the
wall of any Man or Maid of Mountagues

Greg. That shewes thee a weake slaue, for the weakest goes to the
wall

Samp. True, and therefore women being the weaker Vessels, are euer
thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Mountagues men from the wall,
and thrust his Maides to the wall

Greg. The Quarrell is betweene our Masters, and vs their men

Samp. 'Tis all one, I will shew my selfe a tyrant: when I haue
fought with the men, I will bee ciuill with the Maids, and cut off
their heads

Greg. The heads of the Maids?

Sam. I, the heads of the Maids, or their Maiden-heads, Take it in
what sence thou wilt

Greg. They must take it sence, that feele it

Samp. Me they shall feele while I am able to stand: And 'tis knowne
I am a pretty peece of flesh

Greg. 'Tis well thou art not Fish: If thou had'st, thou had'st beene
poore Iohn. Draw thy Toole, here comes of the House of the Mountagues.

Enter two other Seruingmen.

Sam. My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I wil back thee   Gre. How?
Turne thy backe, and run

Sam. Feare me not

Gre. No marry: I feare thee

Sam. Let vs take the Law of our sides: let them begin

Gr. I wil frown as I passe by, & let the[m] take it as they list
Sam. Nay, as they dare. I wil bite my Thumb at them, which is a
disgrace to them, if they beare it

Abra. Do you bite your Thumbe at vs sir?   Samp. I do bite my
Thumbe, sir

Abra. Do you bite your Thumb at vs, sir?   Sam. Is the Law of our
side, if I say I?   Gre. No

Sam. No sir, I do not bite my Thumbe at you sir: but I bite my
Thumbe sir

Greg. Do you quarrell sir?

Abra. Quarrell sir? no sir

Sam. If you do sir, I am for you, I serue as good a man as you Abra.
No better?

Samp. Well sir.

Enter Benuolio.

Gr. Say better: here comes one of my masters kinsmen

Samp. Yes, better

Abra. You Lye

Samp. Draw if you be men. Gregory, remember thy washing blow.

They Fight.

Ben. Part Fooles, put vp your Swords, you know not what you do.

Enter Tibalt.

Tyb. What art thou drawne, among these heartlesse Hindes? Turne thee
Benuolio, looke vpon thy death

Ben. I do but keepe the peace, put vp thy Sword, Or manage it to
part these men with me

Tyb. What draw, and talke of peace? I hate the word As I hate hell,
all Mountagues, and thee: Haue at thee Coward.

Fight.

Enter three or foure Citizens with Clubs.

Offi. Clubs, Bils, and Partisons, strike, beat them down Downe with
the Capulets, downe with the Mountagues. Enter old Capulet in his
Gowne, and his wife.

Cap. What noise is this? Giue me my long Sword ho

Wife. A crutch, a crutch: why call you for a Sword?   Cap. My Sword
I say: Old Mountague is come, And flourishes his Blade in spight of me.
Enter old Mountague, & his wife.

Moun. Thou villaine Capulet. Hold me not, let me go   2.Wife. Thou
shalt not stir a foote to seeke a Foe. Enter Prince Eskales, with his
Traine.

Prince. Rebellious Subiects, Enemies to peace, Prophaners of this
Neighbor-stained Steele, Will they not heare? What hoe, you Men, you
Beasts, That quench the fire of your pernitious Rage, With purple
Fountaines issuing from your Veines: On paine of Torture, from those
bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd Weapons to the ground, And heare
the Sentence of your mooued Prince. Three ciuill Broyles, bred of an
Ayery word, By thee old Capulet and Mountague,

Haue thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, And made Verona's
ancient Citizens

Cast by their Graue beseeming Ornaments,

To wield old Partizans, in hands as old,

Cankred with peace, to part your Cankred hate, If euer you disturbe our
streets againe,

Your liues shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time all the
rest depart away:

You Capulet shall goe along with me,

And Mountague come you this afternoone,

To know our Fathers pleasure in this case: To old Free-towne, our
common iudgement place: Once more on paine of death, all men depart.

Exeunt.

Moun. Who set this auncient quarrell new abroach? Speake Nephew, were
you by, when it began:   Ben. Heere were the seruants of your
aduersarie, And yours close fighting ere I did approach, I drew to part
them, in the instant came

The fiery Tibalt, with his sword prepar'd, Which as he breath'd
defiance to my eares, He swong about his head, and cut the windes, Who
nothing hurt withall, hist him in scorne. While we were enterchanging
thrusts and blowes, Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
Till the Prince came, who parted either part

Wife. O where is Romeo, saw you him to day? Right glad am I, he was
not at this fray

Ben. Madam, an houre before the worshipt Sun Peer'd forth the golden
window of the East, A troubled mind draue me to walke abroad, Where
vnderneath the groue of Sycamour,

That West-ward rooteth from this City side: So earely walking did I see
your Sonne:

Towards him I made, but he was ware of me, And stole into the couert of
the wood,

I measuring his affections by my owne,

Which then most sought, wher most might not be found: Being one too
many by my weary selfe,

Pursued my Honour, not pursuing his

And gladly shunn'd, who gladly fled from me

Mount. Many a morning hath he there beene seene, With teares
augmenting the fresh mornings deaw, Adding to cloudes, more cloudes
with his deepe sighes, But all so soone as the all-cheering Sunne,
Should in the farthest East begin to draw The shadie Curtaines from
Auroras bed,

Away from light steales home my heauy Sonne, And priuate in his Chamber
pennes himselfe, Shuts vp his windowes, lockes faire day-light out, And
makes himselfe an artificiall night:

Blacke and portendous must this humour proue, Vnlesse good counsell may
the cause remoue

Ben. My Noble Vncle doe you know the cause?   Moun. I neither know
it, nor can learne of him

Ben. Haue you importun'd him by any meanes?   Moun. Both by my selfe
and many other Friends, But he his owne affections counseller,

Is to himselfe (I will not say how true)

But to himselfe so secret and so close,

So farre from sounding and discouery,

As is the bud bit with an enuious worme,

Ere he can spread his sweete leaues to the ayre, Or dedicate his beauty
to the same.

Could we but learne from whence his sorrowes grow, We would as
willingly giue cure, as know. Enter Romeo.

Ben. See where he comes, so please you step aside, Ile know his
greeuance, or be much denide

Moun. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, To heare true shrift.
Come Madam let's away.

Exeunt.

Ben. Good morrow Cousin

Rom. Is the day so young?

Ben. But new strooke nine

Rom. Aye me, sad houres seeme long:

Was that my Father that went hence so fast?   Ben. It was: what sadnes
lengthens Romeo's houres?   Ro. Not hauing that, which hauing, makes
them short   Ben. In loue

Romeo. Out

Ben. Of loue

Rom. Out of her fauour where I am in loue

Ben. Alas that loue so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous
and rough in proofe

Rom. Alas that loue, whose view is muffled still, Should without
eyes, see path-wayes to his will: Where shall we dine? O me: what fray
was heere? Yet tell me not, for I haue heard it all: Heere's much to do
with hate, but more with loue: Why then, O brawling loue, O louing
hate, O any thing, of nothing first created:

O heauie lightnesse, serious vanity,

Mishapen Chaos of welseeming formes,

Feather of lead, bright smoake, cold fire, sicke health, Still waking
sleepe, that is not what it is: This loue feele I, that feele no loue
in this. Doest thou not laugh?

Ben. No Coze, I rather weepe

Rom. Good heart, at what?

Ben. At thy good hearts oppression

Rom. Why such is loues transgression.

Griefes of mine owne lie heauie in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate
to haue it preast With more of thine, this loue that thou hast showne,
Doth adde more griefe, to too much of mine owne. Loue, is a smoake made
with the fume of sighes, Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in Louers eyes,
Being vext, a Sea nourisht with louing teares, What is it else? a
madnesse, most discreet, A choking gall, and a preseruing sweet:

Farewell my Coze

Ben. Soft I will goe along.

And if you leaue me so, you do me wrong

Rom. Tut I haue lost my selfe, I am not here, This is not Romeo,
hee's some other where

Ben. Tell me in sadnesse, who is that you loue?   Rom. What shall I
grone and tell thee?

Ben. Grone, why no: but sadly tell me who

Rom. A sicke man in sadnesse makes his will: A word ill vrg'd to one
that is so ill:

In sadnesse Cozin, I do loue a woman

Ben. I aym'd so neare, when I suppos'd you lou'd

Rom. A right good marke man, and shee's faire I loue   Ben. A right
faire marke, faire Coze, is soonest hit

Rom. Well in that hit you misse, sheel not be hit With Cupids arrow,
she hath Dians wit:

And in strong proofe of chastity well arm'd: From loues weake childish
Bow, she liues vncharm'd. Shee will not stay the siege of louing
tearmes, Nor bid th' encounter of assailing eyes.

Nor open her lap to Sainct-seducing Gold: O she is rich in beautie,
onely poore,

That when she dies, with beautie dies her store

Ben. Then she hath sworne, that she will still liue chast?   Rom.
She hath, and in that sparing make huge wast? For beauty steru'd with
her seuerity,

Cuts beauty off from all posteritie.

She is too faire, too wise: wisely too faire, To merit blisse by making
me dispaire:

She hath forsworne to loue, and in that vow Do I liue dead, that liue
to tell it now

Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to thinke of her

Rom. O teach me how I should forget to thinke

Ben. By giuing liberty vnto thine eyes, Examine other beauties,

Ro. 'Tis the way to cal hers (exquisit) in question more, These happy
maskes that kisse faire Ladies browes, Being blacke, puts vs in mind
they hide the faire: He that is strooken blind, cannot forget

The precious treasure of his eye-sight lost: Shew me a Mistresse that
is passing faire, What doth her beauty serue but as a note, Where I may
read who past that passing faire. Farewell thou can'st not teach me to
forget,   Ben. Ile pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

Exeunt.

Enter Capulet, Countie Paris, and the Clowne.

Capu. Mountague is bound as well as I,

In penalty alike, and 'tis not hard I thinke, For men so old as wee, to
keepe the peace

Par. Of Honourable reckoning are you both, And pittie 'tis you liu'd
at ods so long: But now my Lord, what say you to my sute?   Capu. But
saying ore what I haue said before, My Child is yet a stranger in the
world,

Shee hath not seene the change of fourteene yeares, Let two more
Summers wither in their pride, Ere we may thinke her ripe to be a
Bride

Pari. Younger then she, are happy mothers made

Capu. And too soone mar'd are those so early made: Earth hath
swallowed all my hopes but she, Shee's the hopefull Lady of my earth:

But wooe her gentle Paris, get her heart, My will to her consent, is
but a part,

And shee agree, within her scope of choise, Lyes my consent, and faire
according voice: This night I hold an old accustom'd Feast, Whereto I
haue inuited many a Guest,

Such as I loue, and you among the store,

One more, most welcome makes my number more: At my poore house, looke
to behold this night, Earth-treading starres, that make darke heauen
light, Such comfort as do lusty young men feele, When well apparrel'd
Aprill on the heele

Of limping Winter treads, euen such delight Among fresh Fennell buds
shall you this night Inherit at my house: heare all, all see:

And like her most, whose merit most shall be: Which one more veiw, of
many, mine being one, May stand in number, though in reckning none.
Come, goe with me: goe sirrah trudge about, Through faire Verona, find
those persons out, Whose names are written there, and to them say, My
house and welcome, on their pleasure stay. Enter.

Ser. Find them out whose names are written. Heere it is written, that
the Shoo-maker should meddle with his Yard, and the Tayler with his
Last, the Fisher with his Pensill, and the Painter with his Nets. But I
am sent to find those persons whose names are writ, & can neuer find
what names the writing person hath here writ (I must to the learned) in
good time.

Enter Benuolio, and Romeo.

Ben. Tut man, one fire burnes out anothers burning, One paine is
lesned by anothers anguish:

Turne giddie, and be holpe by backward turning: One desparate greefe,
cures with anothers languish: Take thou some new infection to the eye,

And the rank poyson of the old wil die

Rom. Your Plantan leafe is excellent for that

Ben. For what I pray thee?

Rom. For your broken shin

Ben. Why Romeo art thou mad?

Rom. Not mad, but bound more then a mad man is: Shut vp in prison,
kept without my foode, Whipt and tormented: and Godden good fellow,
Ser. Godgigoden, I pray sir can you read?   Rom. I mine owne fortune in
my miserie

Ser. Perhaps you haue learn'd it without booke: But I pray can you
read any thing you see?   Rom. I, if I know the Letters and the
Language

Ser. Ye say honestly, rest you merry

Rom. Stay fellow, I can read.

He reades the Letter.

Seigneur Martino, and his wife and daughter: County Anselme and his
beautious sisters: the Lady widdow of Vtruuio, Seigneur Placentio, and
his louely Neeces: Mercutio and his brother Valentine: mine vncle
Capulet his wife and daughters: my faire Neece Rosaline, Liuia,
Seigneur Valentio, & his Cosen Tybalt: Lucio and the liuely Helena. A
faire assembly, whither should they come?   Ser. Vp

Rom. Whither? to supper?

Ser. To our house

Rom. Whose house?

Ser. My Maisters

Rom. Indeed I should haue askt you that before

Ser. Now Ile tell you without asking. My maister is the great rich
Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Mountagues I pray come and
crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry.

Enter.

Ben. At this same auncient Feast of Capulets Sups the faire Rosaline,
whom thou so loues: With all the admired Beauties of Verona,

Go thither and with vnattainted eye,

Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee
thinke thy Swan a Crow

Rom. When the deuout religion of mine eye Maintaines such falshood,
then turne teares to fire: And these who often drown'd could neuer die,
Transparent Heretiques be burnt for liers. One fairer then my loue: the
all-seeing Sun Nere saw her match, since first the world begun

Ben. Tut, you saw her faire, none else being by, Herselfe poys'd
with herselfe in either eye: But in that Christall scales, let there be
waid, Your Ladies loue against some other Maid

That I will show you, shining at this Feast, And she shew scant shell,
well, that now shewes best

Rom. Ile goe along, no such sight to be showne, But to reioyce in
splendor of mine owne.

Enter Capulets Wife and Nurse.

Wife. Nurse wher's my daughter? call her forth to me

Nurse. Now by my Maidenhead, at twelue yeare old I bad her come,
what Lamb: what Ladi-bird, God forbid, Where's this Girle? what
Iuliet?

Enter Iuliet

Iuliet. How now, who calls?

Nur. Your Mother

Iuliet. Madam I am heere, what is your will?   Wife. This is the
matter: Nurse giue me leaue awhile, we must talke in secret. Nurse come
backe againe, I haue remembred me, thou'se heare our counsell. Thou
knowest my daughter's of a prety age

Nurse. Faith I can tell her age vnto an houre

Wife. Shee's not fourteene

Nurse. Ile lay fourteene of my teeth,

And yet to my teene be it spoken,

I haue but foure, shee's not fourteene.

How long is it now to Lammas tide?

Wife. A fortnight and odde dayes

Nurse. Euen or odde, of all daies in the yeare come Lammas Eue at
night shall she be fourteene. Susan & she, God rest all Christian
soules, were of an age. Well Susan is with God, she was too good for
me. But as I said, on Lamas Eue at night shall she be fourteene, that
shall she marie, I remember it well. 'Tis since the Earth-quake now
eleuen yeares, and she was wean'd I neuer shall forget it, of all the
daies of the yeare, vpon that day: for I had then laid Worme-wood to my
Dug sitting in the Sunne vnder the Douehouse wall, my Lord and you were
then at Mantua, nay I doe beare a braine. But as I said, when it did
tast the Worme-wood on the nipple of my Dugge, and felt it bitter,
pretty foole, to see it teachie, and fall out with the Dugge, Shake
quoth the Doue-house, 'twas no neede I trow to bid mee trudge, and
since that time it is a eleuen yeares, for then she could stand alone,
nay bi'th' roode she could haue runne, & wadled all about: for euen the
day before she broke her brow, & then my Husband God be with his soule,
a was a merrie man, tooke vp the Child, yea quoth hee, doest thou fall
vpon thy face? thou wilt fall backeward when thou hast more wit, wilt
thou not Iule? And by my holy-dam, the pretty wretch lefte crying, &
said I: to see now how a Iest shall come about. I warrant, & I shall
liue a thousand yeares, I neuer should forget it: wilt thou not Iule
quoth he? and pretty foole it stinted, and said I

Old La. Inough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace

Nurse. Yes Madam, yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to thinke it should
leaue crying, & say I: and yet I warrant it had vpon it brow, a bumpe
as big as a young Cockrels stone? A perilous knock, and it cryed
bitterly. Yea quoth my husband, fall'st vpon thy face, thou wilt fall
backward when thou commest to age: wilt thou not Iule? It stinted: and
said I

Iule. And stint thou too, I pray thee Nurse, say I

Nur. Peace I haue done: God marke thee too his grace thou wast the
prettiest Babe that ere I nurst, and I might liue to see thee married
once, I haue my wish

Old La. Marry that marry is the very theame I came to talke of, tell
me daughter Iuliet, How stands your disposition to be Married?   Iuli.
It is an houre that I dreame not of

Nur. An houre, were I not thine onely Nurse, I would say thou had'st
suckt wisedome from thy teat

Old La. Well thinke of marriage now, yonger then you Heere in
Verona, Ladies of esteeme,

Are made already Mothers. By my count

I was your Mother, much vpon these yeares That you are now a Maide,
thus then in briefe: The valiant Paris seekes you for his loue

Nurse. A man young Lady, Lady, such a man as all the world. Why
hee's a man of waxe

Old La. Veronas Summer hath not such a flower

Nurse. Nay hee's a flower, infaith a very flower

Old La. What say you, can you loue the Gentleman? This night you
shall behold him at our Feast, Read ore the volume of young Paris
face,

And find delight, writ there with Beauties pen: Examine euery seuerall
liniament,

And see how one another lends content:

And what obscur'd in this faire volume lies, Find written in the
Margent of his eyes.

This precious Booke of Loue, this vnbound Louer, To Beautifie him,
onely lacks a Couer.

The fish liues in the Sea, and 'tis much pride For faire without, the
faire within to hide: That Booke in manies eyes doth share the glorie,
That in Gold claspes, Lockes in the Golden storie: So shall you share
all that he doth possesse, By hauing him, making your selfe no lesse

Nurse. No lesse, nay bigger: women grow by men

Old La. Speake briefly, can you like of Paris loue?   Iuli. Ile
looke to like, if looking liking moue. But no more deepe will I endart
mine eye, Then your consent giues strength to make flye. Enter a
Seruing man.

Ser. Madam, the guests are come, supper seru'd vp, you cal'd, my
young Lady askt for, the Nurse cur'st in the Pantery, and euery thing
in extremitie: I must hence to wait, I beseech you follow straight.

Enter.

Mo. We follow thee, Iuliet, the Countie staies

Nurse. Goe Gyrle, seeke happie nights to happy daies.

Exeunt.

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benuolio, with fiue or sixe other Maskers,
Torch-bearers.

Rom. What shall this spech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on
without Apologie?

Ben. The date is out of such prolixitie, Weele haue no Cupid, hood
winkt with a skarfe, Bearing a Tartars painted Bow of lath,

Skaring the Ladies like a Crow-keeper.

But let them measure vs by what they will, Weele measure them with a
Measure, and be gone

Rom. Giue me a Torch, I am not for this ambling. Being but heauy I
will beare the light

Mer. Nay gentle Romeo, we must haue you dance

Rom. Not I beleeue me, you haue dancing shooes With nimble soles, I
haue a soale of Lead So stakes me to the ground, I cannot moue

Mer. You are a Louer, borrow Cupids wings, And soare with them aboue
a common bound

Rom. I am too sore enpearced with his shaft, To soare with his light
feathers, and to bound: I cannot bound a pitch aboue dull woe,

Vnder loues heauy burthen doe I sinke

Hora. And to sinke in it should you burthen loue, Too great
oppression for a tender thing

Rom. Is loue a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too
boysterous, and it pricks like thorne

Mer. If loue be rough with you, be rough with loue, Pricke loue for
pricking, and you beat loue downe, Giue 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-browes shall blush for me

Ben. Come knocke and enter, and no sooner in, But euery man betake
him to his legs

Rom. A Torch for me, let wantons light of heart Tickle the
sencelesse rushes with their heeles: For I am prouerb'd with a
Grandsier Phrase, Ile be a Candle-holder and looke on,

The game was nere so faire, and I am done

Mer. Tut, duns the Mouse, the Constables owne word, If thou art dun,
weele draw thee from the mire. Or saue your reuerence loue, wherein
thou stickest Vp to the eares, come we burne day-light ho

Rom. Nay that's not so

Mer. I meane sir I delay,

We wast our lights in vaine, lights, lights, by day; Take our good
meaning, for our Iudgement sits Fiue times in that, ere once in our
fiue wits

Rom. And we meane well in going to this Maske, But 'tis no wit to
go

Mer. Why may one aske?

Rom. I dreampt a dreame to night

Mer. And so did I

Rom. Well what was yours?

Mer. That dreamers often lye

Ro. In bed a sleepe while they do dreame things true

Mer. O then I see Queene Mab hath beene with you: She is the Fairies
Midwife, & she comes in shape no bigger then Agat-stone, on the
fore-finger of an Alderman, drawne with a teeme of little Atomies, ouer
mens noses as they lie asleepe: her Waggon Spokes made of long Spinners
legs: the Couer of the wings of Grashoppers, her Traces of the smallest
Spiders web, her coullers of the Moonshines watry Beames, her Whip of
Crickets bone, the Lash of Philome, her Waggoner, a small gray-coated
Gnat, not halfe so bigge as a round little Worme, prickt from the
Lazie-finger of a man. Her Chariot is an emptie Haselnut, made by the
Ioyner Squirrel or old Grub, time out a mind, the Faries Coach-makers:
& in this state she gallops night by night, through Louers braines: and
then they dreame of Loue. On Courtiers knees, that dreame on Cursies
strait: ore Lawyers fingers, who strait dreampt on Fees, ore Ladies
lips, who strait on kisses dreame, which oft the angry Mab with
blisters plagues, because their breath with Sweet meats tainted are.
Sometime she gallops ore a Courtiers nose, & then dreames he of
smelling out a sute: & somtime comes she with Tith pigs tale, tickling
a Parsons nose as a lies asleepe, then he dreames of another Benefice.
Sometime she driueth ore a Souldiers necke, & then dreames he of
cutting Forraine throats, of Breaches, Ambuscados, Spanish Blades: Of
Healths fiue Fadome deepe, and then anon drums in his eares, at which
he startes and wakes; and being thus frighted, sweares a prayer or two
& sleepes againe: this is that very Mab that plats the manes of Horses
in the night: & bakes the Elklocks in foule sluttish haires, which once
vntangled, much misfortune bodes,

This is the hag, when Maides lie on their backs, That presses them, and
learnes them first to beare, Making them women of good carriage:

This is she

Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio peace,

Thou talk'st of nothing

Mer. True, I talke of dreames:

Which are the children of an idle braine, Begot of nothing, but vaine
phantasie,

Which is as thin of substance as the ayre, And more inconstant then the
wind, who wooes Euen now the frozen bosome of the North:

And being anger'd, puffes away from thence, Turning his side to the dew
dropping South

Ben. This wind you talke of blowes vs from our selues, Supper is
done, and we shall come too late

Rom. I feare too early, for my mind misgiues, Some consequence yet
hanging in the starres, Shall bitterly begin his fearefull date

With this nights reuels, and expire the tearme Of a despised life
clos'd in my brest:

By some vile forfeit of vntimely death.

But he that hath the stirrage of my course, Direct my sute: on lustie
Gentlemen

Ben. Strike Drum.

They march about the Stage, and Seruingmen come forth with their
napkins.

Enter Seruant.

Ser. Where's Potpan, that he helpes not to take away? He shift a
Trencher? he scrape a Trencher?   1. When good manners, shall lie in
one or two mens hands, and they vnwasht too, 'tis a foule thing

Ser. Away with the Ioynstooles, remoue the Courtcubbord, looke to
the Plate: good thou, saue mee a piece of Marchpane, and as thou louest
me, let the Porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Nell, Anthonie and
Potpan

2. I Boy readie

Ser. You are lookt for, and cal'd for, askt for, & sought for, in
the great Chamber

1. We cannot be here and there too, chearly Boyes, Be brisk awhile,
and the longer liuer take all.

Exeunt.

Enter all the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers.

1. Capu. Welcome Gentlemen,

Ladies that haue their toes

Vnplagu'd with Cornes, will walke about with you: Ah my Mistresses,
which of you all

Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, She Ile sweare hath
Cornes: am I come neare ye now? Welcome Gentlemen, I haue seene the
day

That I haue worne a Visor, and could tell A whispering tale in a faire
Ladies eare: Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone, You
are welcome Gentlemen, come Musitians play:

Musicke plaies: and they dance.

A Hall, Hall, giue roome, and foote it Girles, More light you knaues,
and turne the Tables vp: And quench the fire, the Roome is growne too
hot. Ah sirrah, this vnlookt for sport comes well: Nay sit, nay sit,
good Cozin Capulet,

For you and I are past our dauncing daies: How long 'ist now since last
your selfe and I Were in a Maske?

2. Capu. Berlady thirty yeares

1. Capu. What man: 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much, 'Tis since
the Nuptiall of Lucentio,

Come Pentycost as quickely as it will,

Some fiue and twenty yeares, and then we Maskt

2. Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more, his Sonne is elder sir: His Sonne is
thirty

3. Cap. Will you tell me that?

His Sonne was but a Ward two yeares agoe

Rom. What Ladie is that which doth inrich the hand Of yonder
Knight?

Ser. I know not sir

Rom. O she doth teach the Torches to burne bright: It seemes she
hangs vpon the cheeke of night, As a rich Iewel in an aethiops eare:

Beauty too rich for vse, for earth too deare: So shewes a Snowy Doue
trooping with Crowes, As yonder Lady ore her fellowes showes;

The measure done, Ile watch her place of stand, And touching hers, make
blessed my rude hand. Did my heart loue till now, forsweare it sight,
For I neuer saw true Beauty till this night

Tib. This by his voice, should be a Mountague. Fetch me my Rapier
Boy, what dares the slaue Come hither couer'd with an antique face, To
fleere and scorne at our Solemnitie?

Now by the stocke and Honour of my kin,

To strike him dead I hold it not a sin

Cap. Why how now kinsman,

Wherefore storme you so?

Tib. Vncle this is a Mountague, our foe: A Villaine that is hither
come in spight, To scorne at our Solemnitie this night

Cap. Young Romeo is it?

Tib. 'Tis he, that Villaine Romeo

Cap. Content thee gentle Coz, let him alone, A beares him like a
portly Gentleman:

And to say truth, Verona brags of him,

To be a vertuous and well gouern'd youth: I would not for the wealth of
all the towne, Here in my house do him disparagement:

Therfore be patient, take no note of him, It is my will, the which if
thou respect, Shew a faire presence, and put off these frownes, An ill
beseeming semblance for a Feast

Tib. It fits when such a Villaine is a guest, Ile not endure him

Cap. He shall be endur'd.

What goodman boy, I say he shall, go too, Am I the Maister here or you?
go too,

Youle not endure him, God shall mend my soule, Youle make a Mutinie
among the Guests:

You will set cocke a hoope, youle be the man

Tib. Why Vncle, 'tis a shame

Cap. Go too, go too,

You are a sawcy Boy, 'ist so indeed?

This tricke may chance to scath you, I know what, You must contrary me,
marry 'tis time.

Well said my hearts, you are a Princox, goe, Be quiet, or more light,
more light for shame, Ile make you quiet. What, chearely my hearts

Tib. Patience perforce, with wilfull choler meeting, Makes my flesh
tremble in their different greeting: I will withdraw, but this
intrusion shall Now seeming sweet, conuert to bitter gall. Enter.

Rom. If I prophane with my vnworthiest hand, This holy shrine, the
gentle sin is this, My lips to blushing Pilgrims did ready stand, To
smooth that rough touch, with a tender kisse

Iul. Good Pilgrime,

You do wrong your hand too much.

Which mannerly deuotion shewes in this,

For Saints haue hands, that Pilgrims hands do tuch, And palme to palme,
is holy Palmers kisse

Rom. Haue not Saints lips, and holy Palmers too?   Iul. I Pilgrim,
lips that they must vse in prayer

Rom. O then deare Saint, let lips do what hands do, They pray (grant
thou) least faith turne to dispaire

Iul. Saints do not moue,

Though grant for prayers sake

Rom. Then moue not while my prayers effect I take: Thus from my
lips, by thine my sin is purg'd

Iul. Then haue my lips the sin that they haue tooke

Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespasse sweetly vrg'd: Giue me my sin
againe

Iul. You kisse by'th' booke

Nur. Madam your Mother craues a word with you

Rom. What is her Mother?

Nurs. Marrie Batcheler,

Her Mother is the Lady of the house,

And a good Lady, and a wise, and Vertuous, I Nur'st her Daughter that
you talkt withall: I tell you, he that can lay hold of her,

Shall haue the chincks

Rom. Is she a Capulet?

O deare account! My life is my foes debt

Ben. Away, be gone, the sport is at the best

Rom. I so I feare, the more is my vnrest

Cap. Nay Gentlemen prepare not to be gone, We haue a trifling
foolish Banquet towards: Is it e'ne so? why then I thanke you all. I
thanke you honest Gentlemen, good night: More Torches here: come on,
then let's to bed. Ah sirrah, by my faie it waxes late,

Ile to my rest

Iuli. Come hither Nurse,

What is yond Gentleman:

Nur. The Sonne and Heire of old Tyberio

Iuli. What's he that now is going out of doore?   Nur. Marrie that I
thinke be young Petruchio

Iul. What's he that follows here that would not dance?   Nur. I know
not

Iul. Go aske his name: if he be married, My graue is like to be my
wedded bed

Nur. His name is Romeo, and a Mountague, The onely Sonne of your
great Enemie

Iul. My onely Loue sprung from my onely hate, Too early seene,
vnknowne, and knowne too late, Prodigious birth of Loue it is to me,

That I must loue a loathed Enemie

Nur. What's this? whats this?

Iul. A rime, I learne euen now

Of one I dan'st withall.

One cals within, Iuliet.

Nur. Anon, anon:

Come let's away, the strangers all are gone.

Exeunt.

Chorus. Now old desire doth in his death bed lie, And yong affection
gapes to be his Heire, That faire, for which Loue gron'd for and would
die, With tender Iuliet matcht, is now not faire. Now Romeo is beloued,
and Loues againe,

A like bewitched by the charme of lookes: But to his foe suppos'd he
must complaine, And she steale Loues sweet bait from fearefull hookes:
Being held a foe, he may not haue accesse To breath such vowes as
Louers vse to sweare, And she as much in Loue, her meanes much lesse,
To meete her new Beloued any where:

But passion lends them Power, time, meanes to meete, Temp'ring
extremities with extreame sweete. Enter Romeo alone.

Rom. Can I goe forward when my heart is here? Turne backe dull earth,
and find thy Center out. Enter Benuolio, with Mercutio.

Ben. Romeo, my Cozen Romeo, Romeo

Merc. He is wise,

And on my life hath stolne him home to bed

Ben. He ran this way and leapt this Orchard wall. Call good
Mercutio:

Nay, Ile coniure too

Mer. Romeo, Humours, Madman, Passion, Louer, Appeare thou in the
likenesse of a sigh,

Speake but one time, and I am satisfied:

Cry me but ay me, Prouant, but Loue and day, Speake to my goship Venus
one faire word, One Nickname for her purblind Sonne and her, Young
Abraham Cupid he that shot so true, When King Cophetua lou'd the begger
Maid, He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moueth not, The Ape is dead,
I must coniure him,

I coniure thee by Rosalines bright eyes,

By her High forehead, and her Scarlet lip, By her Fine foote, Straight
leg, and Quiuering thigh, And the Demeanes, that there Adiacent lie,
That in thy likenesse thou appeare to vs

Ben. And if he heare thee thou wilt anger him

Mer. This cannot anger him, t'would anger him To raise a spirit in
his Mistresse circle, Of some strange nature, letting it stand

Till she had laid it, and coniured it downe, That were some spight.

My inuocation is faire and honest, & in his Mistris name, I coniure
onely but to raise vp him

Ben. Come, he hath hid himselfe among these Trees To be consorted
with the Humerous night:

Blind is his Loue, and best befits the darke

Mer. If Loue be blind, Loue cannot hit the marke, Now will he sit
vnder a Medler tree,

And wish his Mistresse were that kind of Fruite, As Maides cal Medlers
when they laugh alone, O Romeo that she were, O that she were

An open, or thou a Poprin Peare,

Romeo goodnight, Ile to my Truckle bed,

This Field-bed is to cold for me to sleepe, Come shall we go?

Ben. Go then, for 'tis in vaine to seeke him here That meanes not to
be found.

Exeunt.

Rom. He ieasts at Scarres that neuer felt a wound, But soft, what
light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Iuliet is the
Sunne,

Arise faire Sun and kill the enuious Moone, Who is already sicke and
pale with griefe, That thou her Maid art far more faire then she: Be
not her Maid since she is enuious,

Her Vestal liuery is but sicke and greene, And none but fooles do weare
it, cast it off: It is my Lady, O it is my Loue, O that she knew she
were, She speakes, yet she sayes nothing, what of that? Her eye
discourses, I will answere it:

I am too bold 'tis not to me she speakes: Two of the fairest starres in
all the Heauen, Hauing some businesse do entreat her eyes, To twinckle
in their Spheres till they returne. What if her eyes were there, they
in her head, The brightnesse of her cheeke would shame those starres,
As day-light doth a Lampe, her eye in heauen, Would through the ayrie
Region streame so bright, That Birds would sing, and thinke it were not
night: See how she leanes her cheeke vpon her hand. O that I were a
Gloue vpon that hand,

That I might touch that cheeke

Iul. Ay me

Rom. She speakes.

Oh speake againe bright Angell, for thou art As glorious to this night
being ore my head, As is a winged messenger of heauen

Vnto the white vpturned wondring eyes

Of mortalls that fall backe to gaze on him, When he bestrides the lazie
puffing Cloudes, And sailes vpon the bosome of the ayre

Iul. O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Denie thy Father and
refuse thy name:

Or if thou wilt not, be but sworne to my Loue, And Ile no longer be a
Capulet

Rom. Shall I heare more, or shall I speake at this?   Iu. 'Tis but
thy name that is my Enemy: Thou art thy selfe, though not a Mountague,
What's Mountague? it is nor hand nor foote, Nor arme, nor face, O be
some other name

Belonging to a man.

What? in a names that which we call a Rose, By any other word would
smell as sweete,

So Romeo would, were he not Romeo cal'd,

Retaine that deare perfection which he owes, Without that title Romeo,
doffe thy name, And for thy name which is no part of thee, Take all my
selfe

Rom. I take thee at thy word:

Call me but Loue, and Ile be new baptiz'd, Hence foorth I neuer will be
Romeo

Iuli. What man art thou, that thus bescreen'd in night So stumblest
on my counsell?

Rom. By a name,

I know not how to tell thee who I am:

My name deare Saint, is hatefull to my selfe, Because it is an Enemy to
thee,

Had I it written, I would teare the word

Iuli. My eares haue yet not drunke a hundred words Of thy tongues
vttering, yet I know the sound. Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom. Neither faire Maid, if either thee dislike

Iul. How cam'st thou hither.

Tell me, and wherefore?

The Orchard walls are high, and hard to climbe, And the place death,
considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here,

Rom. With Loues light wings

Did I ore-perch these Walls,

For stony limits cannot hold Loue out,

And what Loue can do, that dares Loue attempt: Therefore thy kinsmen
are no stop to me

Iul. If they do see thee, they will murther thee

Rom. Alacke there lies more perill in thine eye, Then twenty of
their Swords, looke thou but sweete, And I am proofe against their
enmity

Iul. I would not for the world they saw thee here

Rom. I haue nights cloake to hide me from their eyes And but thou
loue me, let them finde me here, My life were better ended by their
hate,

Then death proroged wanting of thy Loue

Iul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place?   Rom. By Loue
that first did prompt me to enquire, He lent me counsell, and I lent
him eyes, I am no Pylot, yet wert thou as far

As that vast-shore-washet with the farthest Sea, I should aduenture for
such Marchandise

Iul. Thou knowest the maske of night is on my face, Else would a
Maiden blush bepaint my cheeke, For that which thou hast heard me
speake to night, Faine would I dwell on forme, faine, faine, denie What
I haue spoke, but farewell Complement, Doest thou Loue? I know thou
wilt say I,

And I will take thy word, yet if thou swear'st, Thou maiest proue
false: at Louers periuries They say Ioue laught, oh gentle Romeo,

If thou dost Loue, pronounce it faithfully: Or if thou thinkest I am
too quickly wonne, Ile frowne and be peruerse, and say thee nay, So
thou wilt wooe: But else not for the world. In truth faire Mountague I
am too fond:

And therefore thou maiest thinke my behauiour light, But trust me
Gentleman, Ile proue more true, Then those that haue coying to be
strange, I should haue beene more strange, I must confesse, But that
thou ouer heard'st ere I was ware My true Loues passion, therefore
pardon me, And not impute this yeelding to light Loue, Which the darke
night hath so discouered

Rom. Lady, by yonder Moone I vow,

That tips with siluer all these Fruite tree tops

Iul. O sweare not by the Moone, th' inconstant Moone, That monethly
changes in her circled Orbe, Least that thy Loue proue likewise
variable

Rom. What shall I sweare by?

Iul. Do not sweare at all:

Or if thou wilt sweare by thy gratious selfe, Which is the God of my
Idolatry,

And Ile beleeue thee

Rom. If my hearts deare loue

Iuli. Well do not sweare, although I ioy in thee: I haue no ioy of
this contract to night,

It is too rash, too vnaduis'd, too sudden, Too like the lightning which
doth cease to be Ere, one can say, it lightens, Sweete good night: This
bud of Loue by Summers ripening breath, May proue a beautious Flower
when next we meete: Goodnight, goodnight, as sweete repose and rest,
Come to thy heart, as that within my brest

Rom. O wilt thou leaue me so vnsatisfied?   Iuli. What satisfaction
can'st thou haue to night?   Ro. Th' exchange of thy Loues faithfull
vow for mine

Iul. I gaue thee mine before thou did'st request it: And yet I would
it were to giue againe

Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it,

For what purpose Loue?

Iul. But to be franke and giue it thee againe, And yet I wish but for
the thing I haue,

My bounty is as boundlesse as the Sea,

My Loue as deepe, the more I giue to thee The more I haue, for both are
Infinite:

I heare some noyse within deare Loue adue:

Cals within.

Anon good Nurse, sweet Mountague be true: Stay but a little, I will
come againe

Rom. O blessed blessed night, I am afear'd Being in night, all this
is but a dreame, Too flattering sweet to be substantiall

Iul. Three words deare Romeo,

And goodnight indeed,

If that thy bent of Loue be Honourable,

Thy purpose marriage, send me word to morrow, By one that Ile procure
to come to thee,

Where and what time thou wilt performe the right, And all my Fortunes
at thy foote Ile lay, And follow thee my Lord throughout the world

Within: Madam.

I come, anon: but if thou meanest not well, I do beseech thee

Within: Madam.

(By and by I come)

To cease thy strife, and leaue me to my griefe, To morrow will I send

Rom. So thriue my soule

Iu. A thousand times goodnight.

Enter.

Rome. A thousand times the worse to want thy light, Loue goes toward
Loue as school-boyes fro[m] their books But Loue fro[m] Loue, towards
schoole with heauie lookes. Enter Iuliet againe.

Iul. Hist Romeo hist: O for a Falkners voice, To lure this Tassell
gentle backe againe, Bondage is hoarse, and may not speake aloud, Else
would I teare the Caue where Eccho lies, And make her ayrie tongue more
hoarse, then With repetition of my Romeo

Rom. It is my soule that calls vpon my name. How siluer sweet, sound
Louers tongues by night, Like softest Musicke to attending eares

Iul. Romeo

Rom. My Neece

Iul. What a clock to morrow

Shall I send to thee?

Rom. By the houre of nine

Iul. I will not faile, 'tis twenty yeares till then, I haue forgot
why I did call thee backe

Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it

Iul. I shall forget, to haue thee still stand there, Remembring how
I Loue thy company

Rom. And Ile still stay, to haue thee still forget, Forgetting any
other home but this

Iul. 'Tis almost morning, I would haue thee gone, And yet no further
then a wantons Bird,

That let's it hop a little from his hand, Like a poore prisoner in his
twisted Gyues, And with a silken thred plucks it backe againe, So
louing Iealous of his liberty

Rom. I would I were thy Bird

Iul. Sweet so would I,

Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing: Good night, good night

Rom. Parting is such sweete sorrow,

That I shall say goodnight, till it be morrow

Iul. Sleepe dwell vpon thine eyes, peace in thy brest

Rom. Would I were sleepe and peace so sweet to rest, The gray ey'd
morne smiles on the frowning night, Checkring the Easterne Clouds with
streakes of light, And darkenesse fleckel'd like a drunkard reeles,
From forth dayes pathway, made by Titans wheeles. Hence will I to my
ghostly Friers close Cell, His helpe to craue, and my deare hap to
tell. Enter.

Enter Frier alone with a basket.

Fri. The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night, Checkring the
Easterne Cloudes with streaks of light: And fleckled darknesse like a
drunkard reeles, From forth daies path, and Titans burning wheeles: Now
ere the Sun aduance his burning eye,

The day to cheere, and nights danke dew to dry, I must vpfill this
Osier Cage of ours,

With balefull weedes, and precious Iuiced flowers, The earth that's
Natures mother, is her Tombe, What is her burying graue that is her
wombe: And from her wombe children of diuers kind We sucking on her
naturall bosome find:

Many for many vertues excellent:

None but for some, and yet all different. O mickle is the powerfull
grace that lies In Plants, Hearbs, stones, and their true qualities:
For nought so vile, that on earth doth liue, But to the earth some
speciall good doth giue. Nor ought so good, but strain'd from that
faire vse, Reuolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. Vertue it selfe
turnes vice being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified.

Enter Romeo.

Within the infant rind of this weake flower, Poyson hath residence, and
medicine power: For this being smelt, with that part cheares each part,
Being tasted stayes all sences with the heart. Two such opposed Kings
encampe them still, In man as well as Hearbes, grace and rude will: And
where the worser is predominant,

Full soone the Canker death eates vp that Plant

Rom. Good morrow Father

Fri. Benedecite.

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?

Young Sonne, it argues a distempered head, So soone to bid goodmorrow
to thy bed;

Care keepes his watch in euery old mans eye, And where Care lodges,
sleepe will neuer lye: But where vnbrused youth with vnstuft braine
Doth couch his lims, there, golden sleepe doth raigne; Therefore thy
earlinesse doth me assure,

Thou art vprous'd with some distemprature; Or if not so, then here I
hit it right.

Our Romeo hath not beene in bed to night

Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine

Fri. God pardon sin: wast thou with Rosaline?   Rom. With Rosaline,
my ghostly Father? No, I haue forgot that name, and that names woe

Fri. That's my good Son, but wher hast thou bin then?   Rom. Ile
tell thee ere thou aske it me agen: I haue beene feasting with mine
enemie,

Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,

That's by me wounded: both our remedies

Within thy helpe and holy phisicke lies:

I beare no hatred, blessed man: for loe

My intercession likewise steads my foe

Fri. Be plaine good Son, rest homely in thy drift, Ridling
confession, findes but ridling shrift

Rom. Then plainly know my hearts deare Loue is set, On the faire
daughter of rich Capulet:

As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;

And all combin'd, saue what thou must combine By holy marriage: when
and where, and how, We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow: Ile
tell thee as we passe, but this I pray, That thou consent to marrie vs
to day

Fri. Holy S[aint]. Francis, what a change is heere? Is Rosaline that
thou didst Loue so deare So soone forsaken? young mens Loue then lies
Not truely in their hearts, but in their eyes. Iesu Maria, what a deale
of brine

Hath washt thy sallow cheekes for Rosaline? How much salt water throwne
away in wast, To season Loue that of it doth not tast.

The Sun not yet thy sighes, from heauen cleares, Thy old grones yet
ringing in my auncient eares: Lo here vpon thy cheeke the staine doth
sit, Of an old teare that is not washt off yet. If ere thou wast thy
selfe, and these woes thine, Thou and these woes, were all for
Rosaline. And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then, Women may
fall, when there's no strength in men

Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for louing Rosaline

Fri. For doting, not for louing pupill mine

Rom. And bad'st me bury Loue

Fri. Not in a graue,

To lay one in, another out to haue

Rom. I pray thee chide me not, her I Loue now Doth grace for grace,
and Loue for Loue allow: The other did not so

Fri. O she knew well,

Thy Loue did read by rote, that could not spell: But come young
wauerer, come goe with me, In one respect, Ile thy assistant be:

For this alliance may so happy proue,

To turne your houshould rancor to pure Loue

Rom. O let vs hence, I stand on sudden hast

Fri. Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast.

Exeunt.

Enter Benuolio and Mercutio.

Mer. Where the deule should this Romeo be? came he not home to
night?

Ben. Not to his Fathers, I spoke with his man

Mer. Why that same pale hard-harted wench, that Rosaline torments
him so, that he will sure run mad

Ben. Tibalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, hath sent a Letter to his
Fathers house

Mer. A challenge on my life

Ben. Romeo will answere it

Mer. Any man that can write, may answere a Letter

Ben. Nay, he will answere the Letters Maister how he dares, being
dared

Mer. Alas poore Romeo, he is already dead stab'd with a white
wenches blacke eye, runne through the eare with a Loue song, the very
pinne of his heart, cleft with the blind Bowe-boyes but-shaft, and is
he a man to encounter Tybalt?

Ben. Why what is Tibalt?

Mer. More then Prince of Cats. Oh hee's the Couragious Captaine of
Complements: he fights as you sing pricksong, keeps time, distance, and
proportion, he rests his minum, one, two, and the third in your bosom:
the very butcher of a silk button, a Dualist, a Dualist: a Gentleman of
the very first house of the first and second cause: ah the immortall
Passado, the Punto reuerso, the Hay

Ben. The what?

Mer. The Pox of such antique lisping affecting phantacies, these new
tuners of accent: Iesu 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
pardon-mee's,

who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the
old bench. O their bones, their bones.

Enter Romeo.

Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo

Mer. Without his Roe, like a dryed Hering. O flesh, flesh, how art
thou fishified? Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in:
Laura to his Lady, was a kitchen wench, marrie she had a better Loue to
berime her: Dido a dowdie, Cleopatra a Gipsie, Hellen and Hero,
hildings and Harlots: Thisbie a gray eie or so, but not to the purpose.
Signior Romeo, Bon iour, there's a French salutation to your French
slop: you gaue vs the counterfait fairely last night

Romeo. Good morrow to you both, what counterfeit did I giue you?

Mer. The slip sir, the slip, can you not conceiue?   Rom. Pardon
Mercutio, my businesse was great, and in such a case as mine, a man may
straine curtesie

Mer. That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man
to bow in the hams

Rom. Meaning to cursie

Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it

Rom. A most curteous exposition

Mer. Nay, I am the very pinck of curtesie

Rom. Pinke for flower

Mer. Right

Rom. Why then is my Pump well flowr'd

Mer. Sure wit, follow me this ieast, now till thou hast worne out
thy Pump, that when the single sole of it is worne, the ieast may
remaine after the wearing, sole-singular

Rom. O single sol'd ieast,

Soly singular for the singlenesse

Mer. Come betweene vs good Benuolio, my wits faints

Rom. Swits and spurs,

Swits and spurs, or Ile crie a match

Mer. Nay, if our wits run the Wild-Goose chase, I am done: For thou
hast more of the Wild-Goose in one of thy wits, then I am sure I haue
in my whole fiue. Was I with you there for the Goose?

Rom. Thou wast neuer with mee for any thing, when thou wast not there
for the Goose

Mer. I will bite thee by the eare for that iest

Rom. Nay, good Goose bite not

Mer. Thy wit is a very Bitter-sweeting, It is a most sharpe sawce

Rom. And is it not well seru'd into a Sweet-Goose?   Mer. Oh here's
a wit of Cheuerell, that stretches from an ynch narrow, to an ell
broad

Rom. I stretch it out for that word, broad, which added to the
Goose, proues thee farre and wide, abroad Goose

Mer. Why is not this better now, then groning for Loue, now art thou
sociable, now art thou Romeo: now art thou what thou art, by Art as
well as by Nature, for this driueling Loue is like a great Naturall,
that runs lolling vp and downe to hid his bable in a hole

Ben. Stop there, stop there

Mer. Thou desir'st me to stop in my tale against the haire

Ben. Thou would'st else haue made thy tale large

Mer. O thou art deceiu'd, I would haue made it short, or I was come
to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupie the argument
no longer. Enter Nurse and her man.

Rom. Here's a goodly geare.

A sayle, a sayle

Mer. Two, two: a Shirt and a Smocke

Nur. Peter?

Peter. Anon

Nur. My Fan Peter?

Mer. Good Peter to hide her face?

For her Fans the fairer face?

Nur. God ye good morrow Gentlemen

Mer. God ye gooden faire Gentlewoman

Nur. Is it gooden?

Mer. 'Tis no lesse I tell you: for the bawdy hand of the Dyall is now
vpon the pricke of Noone

Nur. Out vpon you: what a man are you?   Rom. One Gentlewoman,

That God hath made, himselfe to mar

Nur. By my troth it is said, for himselfe to, mar quatha: Gentlemen,
can any of you tel me where I may find the young Romeo?

Romeo. I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older when you haue
found him, then he was when you sought him: I am the youngest of that
name, for fault of a worse

Nur. You say well

Mer. Yea is the worst well,

Very well tooke: Ifaith, wisely, wisely

Nur. If you be he sir,

I desire some confidence with you?

Ben. She will endite him to some Supper

Mer. A baud, a baud, a baud. So ho

Rom. What hast thou found?

Mer. No Hare sir, vnlesse a Hare sir in a Lenten pie, that is
something stale and hoare ere it be spent. An old Hare hoare, and an
old Hare hoare is very good meat in Lent.

But a Hare that is hoare is too much for a score, when it hoares ere it
be spent,

Romeo will you come to your Fathers? Weele to dinner thither

Rom. I will follow you

Mer. Farewell auncient Lady:

Farewell Lady, Lady, Lady.

Exit. Mercutio, Benuolio.

Nur. I pray you sir, what sawcie Merchant was this that was so full
of his roperie?

Rom. A Gentleman Nurse, that loues to heare himselfe talke, and will
speake more in a minute, then he will stand to in a Moneth

Nur. And a speake any thing against me, Ile take him downe, z a were
lustier then he is, and twentie such Iacks: and if I cannot, Ile finde
those that shall: scuruie knaue, I am none of his flurt-gils, I am none
of his skaines mates, and thou must stand by too and suffer euery knaue
to vse me at his pleasure

Pet. I saw no man vse you at his pleasure: if I had, my weapon
should quickly haue beene out, I warrant you, I dare draw assoone as
another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrell, and the law on my
side

Nur. Now afore God, I am so vext, that euery part about me quiuers,
skuruy knaue: pray you sir a word: and as I told you, my young Lady bid
me enquire you out, what she bid me say, I will keepe to my selfe: but
first let me tell ye, if ye should leade her in a fooles paradise, as
they say, it were a very grosse kind of behauiour, as they say: for the
Gentlewoman is yong: & therefore, if you should deale double with her,
truely it were an ill thing to be offered to any Gentlewoman, and very
weake dealing

Nur. Nurse commend me to thy Lady and Mistresse, I protest vnto
thee

Nur. Good heart, and yfaith I will tell her as much: Lord, Lord she
will be a ioyfull woman

Rom. What wilt thou tell her Nurse? thou doest not marke me?

Nur. I will tell her sir, that you do protest, which as I take it, is
a Gentleman-like offer

Rom. Bid her deuise some meanes to come to shrift this afternoone,

And there she shall at Frier Lawrence Cell Be shriu'd and married: here
is for thy paines

Nur. No truly sir not a penny

Rom. Go too, I say you shall

Nur. This afternoone sir? well she shall be there

Ro. And stay thou good Nurse behind the Abbey wall, Within this
houre my man shall be with thee, And bring thee Cords made like a
tackled staire, Which to the high top gallant of my ioy,

Must be my conuoy in the secret night.

Farewell, be trustie and Ile quite thy paines: Farewell, commend me to
thy Mistresse

Nur. Now God in heauen blesse thee: harke you sir,   Rom. What saist
thou my deare Nurse?

Nurse. Is your man secret, did you nere heare say two may keepe
counsell putting one away

Ro. Warrant thee my man is true as steele

Nur. Well sir, my Mistresse is the sweetest Lady, Lord, Lord, when
'twas a little prating thing. O there is a Noble man in Towne one
Paris, that would faine lay knife aboard: but she good soule had as
leeue see a Toade, a very Toade as see him: I anger her sometimes, and
tell her that Paris is the properer man, but Ile warrant you, when I
say so, shee lookes as pale as any clout in the versall world. Doth not
Rosemarie and Romeo begin both with a letter?   Rom. I Nurse, what of
that? Both with an R   Nur. A mocker that's the dogs 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 heare it

Rom. Commend me to thy Lady

Nur. I a thousand times. Peter?

Pet. Anon

Nur. Before and apace.

Exit Nurse and Peter.

Enter Iuliet.

Iul. The clocke strook nine, when I did send the Nurse, In halfe an
houre she promised to returne, Perchance she cannot meete him: that's
not so: Oh she is lame, Loues Herauld should be thoughts, Which ten
times faster glides then the Sunnes beames, Driuing backe shadowes ouer
lowring hils. Therefore do nimble Pinion'd Doues draw Loue, And
therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings: Now is the Sun vpon the
highmost hill

Of this daies iourney, and from nine till twelue, Is three long houres,
yet she is not come. Had she affections and warme youthfull blood, She
would be as swift in motion as a ball, My words would bandy her to my
sweete Loue, And his to me, but old folkes,

Many faine as they were dead,

Vnwieldie, slow, heauy, and pale as lead. Enter Nurse.

O God she comes, O hony Nurse what newes? Hast thou met with him? send
thy man away

Nur. Peter stay at the gate

Iul. Now good sweet Nurse:

O Lord, why lookest thou sad?

Though newes, be sad, yet tell them merrily. If good thou sham'st the
musicke of sweet newes, By playing it to me, with so sower a face

Nur. I am a weary, giue me leaue awhile, Fie how my bones ake, what
a iaunt haue I had?   Iul. I would thou had'st my bones, and I thy
newes: Nay come I pray thee speake, good good Nurse speake

Nur. Iesu what hast? can you not stay a while? Do you not see that I
am out of breath?

Iul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breth To say to me,
that thou art out of breath? The excuse that thou dost make in this
delay, Is longer then the tale thou dost excuse. Is thy newes good or
bad? answere to that, Say either, and Ile stay the circumstance: Let me
be satisfied, ist good or bad?

Nur. Well, you haue made a simple choice, you know not how to chuse a
man: Romeo, no not he though his face be better then any mans, yet his
legs excels all mens, and for a hand, and a foote, and a body, though
they be not to be talkt on, yet they are past compare: he is not the
flower of curtesie, but Ile warrant him as gentle a Lambe: go thy waies
wench, serue God. What haue you din'd at home?   Iul. No no: but all
this did I know before What saies he of our marriage? what of that?
Nur. Lord how my head akes, what a head haue I? It beates as it would
fall in twenty peeces. My backe a tother side: o my backe, my backe:
Beshrew your heart for sending me about

To catch my death with iaunting vp and downe

Iul. Ifaith: I am sorrie that thou art so well. Sweet sweet, sweet
Nurse, tell me what saies my Loue?   Nur. Your Loue saies like an
honest Gentleman, And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, And I
warrant a vertuous: where is your Mother?   Iul. Where is my Mother?

Why she is within, where should she be?

How odly thou repli'st:

Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman: Where is your Mother?

Nur. O Gods Lady deare,

Are you so hot? marrie come vp I trow,

Is this the Poultis for my aking bones?

Henceforward do your messages your selfe

Iul. Heere's such a coile, come what saies Romeo?   Nur. Haue you
got leaue to go to shift to day?   Iul. I haue

Nur. Then high you hence to Frier Lawrence Cell, There staies a
Husband to make you a wife: Now comes the wanton bloud vp in your
cheekes, Thei'le be in Scarlet straight at any newes: Hie you to
Church, I must an other way,

To fetch a Ladder by the which your Loue

Must climde a birds nest Soone when it is darke: I am the drudge, and
toile in your delight: But you shall beare the burthen soone at night.
Go Ile to dinner, hie you to the Cell

Iul. Hie to high Fortune, honest Nurse, farewell.

Exeunt.

Enter Frier and Romeo.

Fri. So smile the heauens vpon this holy act, That after houres, with
sorrow chide vs not

Rom. Amen, amen, but come what sorrow can, It cannot counteruaile
the exchange of ioy That one short minute giues me in her sight: Do
thou but close our hands with holy words. Then Loue-deuouring death do
what he dare, It is inough. I may call her mine

Fri. These violent delights haue violent endes, And in their
triumph: die like fire and powder; Which as they kisse consume. The
sweetest honey Is loathsome in his owne deliciousnesse,

And in the taste confoundes the appetite. Therefore Loue moderately,
long Loue doth so, Too swift arriues as tardie as too slow.

Enter Iuliet.

Here comes the Lady. Oh so light a foot

Will nere weare out the euerlasting flint, A Louer may bestride the
Gossamours,

That ydles in the wanton Summer ayre,

And yet not fall, so light is vanitie

Iul. Good euen to my ghostly Confessor

Fri. Romeo shall thanke thee Daughter for vs both

Iul. As much to him, else in his thanks too much

Fri. Ah Iuliet, if the measure of thy ioy Be heapt like mine, and
that thy skill be more To blason it, then sweeten with thy breath This
neighbour ayre, and let rich musickes tongue, Vnfold the imagin'd
happinesse that both

Receiue in either, by this deere encounter

Iul. Conceit more rich in matter then in words, Brags of his
substance, not of Ornament:

They are but beggers that can count their worth, But my true Loue is
growne to such excesse, I cannot sum vp some of halfe my wealth

Fri. Come, come with me, & we will make short worke, For by your
leaues, you shall not stay alone, Till holy Church incorporate two in
one.

Enter Mercutio, Benuolio, and men.

Ben. I pray thee good Mercutio lets retire, The day is hot, the
Capulets abroad:

And if we meet, we shal not scape a brawle, for now these hot dayes, is
the mad blood stirring

Mer. Thou art like one of these fellowes, that when he enters the
confines of a Tauerne, claps me his Sword vpon the Table, and sayes,
God send me no need of thee: and by the operation of the second cup,
drawes him on the Drawer, when indeed there is no need

Ben. Am I like such a Fellow?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Iacke in thy mood, as any in
Italie: and assoone moued to be moodie, and assoone moodie to be mou'd

Ben. And what too?

Mer. Nay, and there were two such, we should haue none shortly, for
one would kill the other: thou, why thou wilt quarrell with a man that
hath a haire more, or a haire lesse in his beard, then thou hast: thou
wilt quarrell with a man for cracking Nuts, hauing no other reason, but
because thou hast hasell eyes: what eye, but such an eye, would spie
out such a quarrell? thy head is full of quarrels, as an egge is full
of meat, and yet thy head hath bin beaten as addle as an egge for
quarreling: thou hast quarrel'd with a man for coffing in the street,
because he hath wakened thy Dog that hath laine asleepe in the Sun.
Did'st thou not fall out with a Tailor for wearing his new Doublet
before Easter? with another, for tying his new shooes with old Riband,
and yet thou wilt Tutor me from quarrelling?   Ben. And I were so apt
to quarell as thou art, any man should buy the Fee-simple of my life,
for an houre and a quarter

Mer. The Fee-simple? O simple.

Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others.

Ben. By my head here comes the Capulets

Mer. By my heele I care not

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speake to them. Gentlemen, Good
den, a word with one of you

Mer. And but one word with one of vs? couple it with something, make
it a word and a blow

Tib. You shall find me apt inough to that sir, and you will giue me
occasion

Mercu. Could you not take some occasion without giuing?

Tib. Mercutio thou consort'st with Romeo

Mer. Consort? what dost thou make vs Minstrels? & thou make
Minstrels of vs, looke to heare nothing but discords: heere's my
fiddlesticke, heere's that shall make you daunce. Come consort

Ben. We talke here in the publike haunt of men, Either withdraw vnto
some priuate place,

Or reason coldly of your greeuances:

Or else depart, here all eies gaze on vs

Mer. Mens eyes were made to looke, and let them gaze. I will not
budge for no mans pleasure I.

Enter Romeo.

Tib. Well peace be with you sir, here comes my man

Mer. But Ile be hang'd sir if he weare your Liuery. Marry go before
to field, heele be your follower, Your worship in that sense, may call
him man

Tib. Romeo, the loue I beare thee, can affoord No better terme then
this: Thou art a Villaine

Rom. Tibalt, the reason that I haue to loue thee, Doth much excuse
the appertaining rage

To such a greeting: Villaine am I none;

Therefore farewell, I see thou know'st me not

Tib. Boy, this shall not excuse the iniuries That thou hast done me,
therefore turne and draw

Rom. I do protest I neuer iniur'd thee, But lou'd thee better then
thou can'st deuise: Till thou shalt know the reason of my loue, And so
good Capulet, which name I tender

As dearely as my owne, be satisfied

Mer. O calme, dishonourable, vile submission: Alla stucatho carries
it away.

Tybalt, you Rat-catcher, will you walke?

Tib. What wouldst thou haue with me?

Mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine liues, that I
meane to make bold withall, and as you shall vse me hereafter dry beate
the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your Sword out of his Pilcher by
the eares? Make hast, least mine be about your eares ere it be out

Tib. I am for you

Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy Rapier vp

Mer. Come sir, your Passado

Rom. Draw Benuolio, beat downe their weapons: Gentlemen, for shame
forbeare this outrage, Tibalt, Mercutio, the Prince expresly hath
Forbidden bandying in Verona streetes.

Hold Tybalt, good Mercutio.

Exit Tybalt.

Mer. I am hurt.

A plague a both the Houses, I am sped:

Is he gone and hath nothing?

Ben. What art thou hurt?

Mer. I, I, a scratch, a scratch, marry 'tis inough, Where is my Page?
go Villaine fetch a Surgeon

Rom. Courage man, the hurt cannot be much

Mer. No: 'tis not so deepe as a well, nor so wide as a Church doore,
but 'tis inough, 'twill serue: aske for me to morrow, and you shall
find me a graue man. I am pepper'd I warrant, for this world: a plague
a both your houses. What, a Dog, a Rat, a Mouse, a Cat to scratch a man
to death: a Braggart, a Rogue, a Villaine, that fights by the booke of
Arithmeticke, why the deu'le came you betweene vs? I was hurt vnder
your arme

Rom. I thought all for the best

Mer. Helpe me into some house Benuolio, Or I shall faint: a plague a
both your houses. They haue made wormesmeat of me,

I haue it, and soundly to your Houses.

Enter.

Rom. This Gentleman the Princes neere Alie, My very Friend hath got
his mortall hurt

In my behalfe, my reputation stain'd

With Tibalts slaunder, Tybalt that an houre Hath beene my Cozin: O
Sweet Iuliet,

Thy Beauty hath made me Effeminate,

And in my temper softned Valours steele.

Enter Benuolio.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, braue Mercutio's is dead, That Gallant spirit
hath aspir'd the Cloudes, Which too vntimely here did scorne the earth

Rom. This daies blacke Fate, on mo daies depend, This but begins,
the wo others must end.

Enter Tybalt.

Ben. Here comes the Furious Tybalt backe againe

Rom. He gon in triumph, and Mercutio slaine? Away to heauen
respectiue Lenitie,

And fire and Fury, be my conduct now.

Now Tybalt take the Villaine backe againe That late thou gau'st me, for
Mercutios soule Is but a little way aboue our heads,

Staying for thine to keepe him companie:

Either thou or I, or both, must goe with him

Tib. Thou wretched Boy that didst consort him here, Shalt with him
hence

Rom. This shall determine that.

They fight. Tybalt falles.

Ben. Romeo, away be gone:

The Citizens are vp, and Tybalt slaine,

Stand not amaz'd, the Prince will Doome thee death If thou art taken:
hence, be gone, away

Rom. O! I am Fortunes foole

Ben. Why dost thou stay?

Exit Romeo.

Enter Citizens.

Citi. Which way ran he that kild Mercutio?   Tibalt that Murtherer,
which way ran he?   Ben. There lies that Tybalt

Citi. Vp sir go with me:

I charge thee in the Princes names obey.

Enter Prince, old Montague, Capulet, their Wiues and all.

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this Fray?   Ben. O Noble
Prince, I can discouer all The vnluckie Mannage of this fatall brall:
There lies the man slaine by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman braue
Mercutio

Cap. Wi. Tybalt, my Cozin? O my Brothers Child, O Prince, O Cozin,
Husband, O the blood is spild Of my deare kinsman. Prince as thou art
true, For bloud of ours, shed bloud of Mountague. O Cozin, Cozin

Prin. Benuolio, who began this Fray?

Ben. Tybalt here slaine, whom Romeo's hand did slay, Romeo that spoke
him faire, bid him bethinke How nice the Quarrell was, and vrg'd
withall Your high displeasure: all this vttered,

With gentle breath, calme looke, knees humbly bow'd Could not take
truce with the vnruly spleene Of Tybalts deafe to peace, but that he
Tilts With Peircing steele at bold Mercutio's breast, Who all as hot,
turnes deadly point to point, And with a Martiall scorne, with one hand
beates 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 then his tongue, His aged arme,
beats downe their fatall points, And twixt them rushes, vnderneath
whose arme, An enuious thrust from Tybalt, hit the life Of stout
Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled.

But by and by comes backe to Romeo,

Who had but newly entertained Reuenge,

And too't they goe like lightning, for ere I Could draw to part them,
was stout Tybalt slaine: And as he fell, did Romeo turne and flie: This
is the truth, or let Benuolio die

Cap. Wi. He is a kinsman to the Mountague, Affection makes him
false, he speakes not true: Some twenty of them fought in this blacke
strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life. I beg for
Iustice, which thou Prince must giue: Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not
liue

Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio, Who now the price of his
deare blood doth owe

Cap. Not Romeo Prince, he was Mercutios Friend, His fault concludes,
but what the law should end, The life of Tybalt

Prin. And for that offence,

Immediately we doe exile him hence:

I haue an interest in your hearts proceeding: My bloud for your rude
brawles doth lie a bleeding. But Ile Amerce you with so strong a fine,
That you shall all repent the losse of mine. It will be deafe to
pleading and excuses, Nor teares, nor prayers shall purchase our
abuses. Therefore vse none, let Romeo hence in hast, Else when he is
found, that houre is his last. Beare hence his body, and attend our
will: Mercy not Murders, pardoning those that kill.

Exeunt.

Enter Iuliet alone.

Iul. Gallop apace, you fiery footed steedes, Towards Phoebus lodging,
such a Wagoner

As Phaeton would whip you to the west,

And bring in Cloudie night immediately.

Spred thy close Curtaine Loue-performing night, That run-awayes eyes
may wincke, and Romeo Leape to these armes, vntalkt of and vnseene,
Louers can see to doe their Amorous rights, And by their owne Beauties:
or if Loue be blind, It best agrees with night: come ciuill night, Thou
sober suted Matron all in blacke,

And learne me how to loose a winning match, Plaid for a paire of
stainlesse Maidenhoods, Hood my vnman'd blood bayting in my Cheekes,
With thy Blacke mantle, till strange Loue grow bold, Thinke true Loue
acted simple modestie:

Come night, come Romeo, come thou day in night, For thou wilt lie vpon
the wings of night Whiter then new Snow vpon a Rauens backe: Come
gentle night, come louing blackebrow'd night. Giue me my Romeo, and
when I shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little starres, And he will make the Face
of heauen so fine, That all the world will be in Loue with night, And
pay no worship to the Garish Sun.

O I haue bought the Mansion of a Loue,

But not possest it, and though I am sold, Not yet enioy'd, so tedious
is this day,

As is the night before some Festiuall,

To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not weare them, O
here comes my Nurse: Enter Nurse with cords.

And she brings newes and euery tongue that speaks But Romeos name,
speakes heauenly eloquence: Now Nurse, what newes? what hast thou
there? The Cords that Romeo bid thee fetch?

Nur. I, I, the Cords

Iuli. Ay me, what newes?

Why dost thou wring thy hands

Nur. A weladay, hee's dead, hee's dead, We are vndone Lady, we are
vndone.

Alacke the day, hee's gone, hee's kil'd, he's dead

Iul. Can heauen be so enuious?

Nur. Romeo can,

Though heauen cannot. O Romeo, Romeo.

Who euer would haue thought it Romeo

Iuli. What diuell art thou,

That dost torment me thus?

This torture should be roar'd in dismall hell, Hath Romeo slaine
himselfe? say thou but I, And that bare vowell I shall poyson more

Then the death-darting eye of Cockatrice, I am not I, if there be such
an I.

Or those eyes shot, that makes thee answere I: If he be slaine say I,
or if not, no.

Briefe, sounds, determine of my weale or wo

Nur. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, God saue the marke,
here on his manly brest, A pitteous Coarse, a bloody piteous Coarse:
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood, All in gore blood I sounded
at the sight

Iul. O breake my heart,

Poore Banckrout breake at once,

To prison eyes, nere looke on libertie.

Vile earth to earth resigne, end motion here, And thou and Romeo presse
on heauie beere

Nur. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best Friend I had: O curteous Tybalt
honest Gentleman,

That euer I should liue to see thee dead

Iul. What storme is this that blowes so contrarie? Is Romeo
slaughtred? and is Tybalt dead?

My dearest Cozen, and my dearer Lord:

Then dreadfull Trumpet sound the generall doome, For who is liuing, if
those two are gone?   Nur. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished, Romeo
that kil'd him, he is banished

Iul. O God!

Did Romeo's hand shed Tybalts blood

It did, it did, alas the day, it did

Nur. O Serpent heart hid with a flowring face

Iul. Did euer Dragon keepe so faire a Caue? Beautifull Tyrant, fiend
Angelicall:

Rauenous Doue-feather'd Rauen,

Woluish-rauening Lambe,

Dispised substance of Diuinest show:

Iust opposite to what thou iustly seem'st, A dimne Saint, an Honourable
Villaine:

O Nature! what had'st thou to doe in hell, When thou did'st bower the
spirit of a fiend In mortall paradise of such sweet flesh?

Was euer booke containing such vile matter So fairely bound? O that
deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous Pallace

Nur. There's no trust, no faith, no honestie in men, All periur'd,
all forsworne, all naught, all dissemblers, Ah where's my man? giue me
some Aqua-vitae? These griefes, these woes, these sorrowes make me old:
Shame come to Romeo

Iul. Blister'd be thy tongue

For such a wish, he was not borne to shame: Vpon his brow shame is
asham'd to sit;

For 'tis a throane where Honour may be Crown'd Sole Monarch of the
vniuersall earth:

O what a beast was I to chide him?

Nur. Will you speake well of him,

That kil'd your Cozen?

Iul. Shall I speake ill of him that is my husband? Ah poore my Lord,
what tongue shall smooth thy name, When I thy three houres wife haue
mangled it. But wherefore Villaine did'st thou kill my Cozin? That
Villaine Cozin would haue kil'd my husband: Backe foolish teares, backe
to your natiue spring, Your tributarie drops belong to woe,

Which you mistaking offer vp to ioy:

My husband liues that Tibalt would haue slaine, And Tibalt dead that
would haue slaine my husband: All this is comfort, wherefore weepe I
then? Some words there was worser then Tybalts death That murdered me,
I would forget it feine, But oh, it presses to my memory,

Like damned guilty deedes to sinners minds, Tybalt is dead and Romeo
banished:

That banished, that one word banished,

Hath slaine ten thousand Tibalts: Tibalts death Was woe inough if it
had ended there:

Or if sower woe delights in fellowship,

And needly will be rankt with other griefes, Why followed not when she
said Tibalts dead, Thy Father or thy Mother, nay or both,

Which moderne lamentation might haue mou'd. But which a rere-ward
following Tybalts death Romeo is banished to speake that word,

Is Father, Mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Iuliet, All slaine, all dead: Romeo
is banished,

There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that words death, no
words can that woe sound. Where is my Father and my Mother Nurse?

Nur. Weeping and wailing ouer Tybalts Coarse, Will you go to them? I
will bring you thither

Iu. Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shal be spent When theirs
are drie for Romeo's banishment. Take vp those Cordes, poore ropes you
are beguil'd, Both you and I for Romeo is exild:

He made you for a high-way to my bed,

But I a Maid, die Maiden widowed.

Come Cord, come Nurse, Ile to my wedding bed, And death not Romeo, take
my Maiden head

Nur. Hie to your Chamber, Ile find Romeo To comfort you, I wot well
where he is:

Harke ye your Romeo will be heere at night, Ile to him, he is hid at
Lawrence Cell

Iul. O find him, giue this Ring to my true Knight, And bid him come,
to take his last farewell.

Exit

Enter Frier and Romeo.

Fri. Romeo come forth,

Come forth thou fearfull man,

Affliction is enamor'd of thy parts

And thou art wedded to calamitie,

Rom. Father what newes?

What is the Princes Doome?

What sorrow craues acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not?

Fri. Too familiar

Is my deare Sonne with such sowre Company I bring thee tydings of the
Princes Doome

Rom. What lesse then Doomesday,

Is the Princes Doome?

Fri. A gentler iudgement vanisht from his lips, Not bodies death, but
bodies banishment

Rom. Ha, banishment? be mercifull, say death: For exile hath more
terror in his looke,

Much more then death: do not say banishment

Fri. Here from Verona art thou banished: Be patient, for the world
is broad and wide

Rom. There is no world without Verona walles, But Purgatorie,
Torture, hell it selfe:

Hence banished, is banisht from the world, And worlds exile is death.
Then banished, Is death, mistearm'd, calling death banished, Thou
cut'st my head off with a golden Axe, And smilest vpon the stroke that
murders me

Fri. O deadly sin, O rude vnthankefulnesse! Thy falt our Law calles
death, but the kind Prince Taking thy part, hath rusht aside the Law,
And turn'd that blacke word death, to banishment. This is deare mercy,
and thou seest it not

Rom. 'Tis Torture and not mercy, heauen is here Where Iuliet liues,
and euery Cat and Dog, And little Mouse, euery vnworthy thing

Liue here in Heauen and may looke on her, But Romeo may not. More
Validitie,

More Honourable state, more Courtship liues In carrion Flies, then
Romeo: they may seaze On the white wonder of deare Iuliets hand, And
steale immortall blessing from her lips, Who euen in pure and vestall
modestie

Still blush, as thinking their owne kisses sin. This may Flies doe,
when I from this must flie, And saist thou yet, that exile is not
death? But Romeo may not, hee is banished.

Had'st thou no poyson mixt, no sharpe ground knife, No sudden meane of
death, though nere so meane, But banished to kill me? Banished?

O Frier, the damned vse that word in hell: Howlings attends it, how
hast then the hart Being a Diuine, a Ghostly Confessor,

A Sin-Absoluer, and my Friend profest:

To mangle me with that word, banished?

Fri. Then fond Mad man, heare me speake

Rom. O thou wilt speake againe of banishment

Fri. Ile giue thee Armour to keepe off that word, Aduersities sweete
milke, Philosophie,

To comfort thee, though thou art banished

Rom. Yet banished? hang vp Philosophie: Vnlesse Philosophie can make
a Iuliet,

Displant a Towne, reuerse a Princes Doome, It helpes not, it preuailes
not, talke no more

Fri. O then I see, that Mad men haue no eares

Rom. How should they,

When wisemen haue no eyes?

Fri. Let me dispaire with thee of thy estate,   Rom. Thou can'st not
speake of that y dost not feele, Wert thou as young as Iuliet my Loue:

An houre but married, Tybalt murdered,

Doting like me, and like me banished,

Then mightest thou speake,

Then mightest thou teare thy hayre,

And fall vpon the ground as I doe now,

Taking the measure of an vnmade graue.

Enter Nurse, and knockes.

Frier. Arise one knockes,

Good Romeo hide thy selfe

Rom. Not I,

Vnlesse the breath of Hartsicke groanes

Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes.

Knocke

Fri. Harke how they knocke:

(Who's there) Romeo arise,

Thou wilt be taken, stay a while, stand vp:

Knocke.

Run to my study: by and by, Gods will

What simplenesse is this: I come, I come.

Knocke.

Who knocks so hard?

Whence come you? what's your will?

Enter Nurse.

Nur. Let me come in,

And you shall know my errand:

I come from Lady Iuliet

Fri. Welcome then

Nur. O holy Frier, O tell me holy Frier, Where's my Ladies Lord?
where's Romeo?

Fri. There on the ground,

With his owne teares made drunke

Nur. O he is euen in my Mistresse case, Iust in her case. O wofull
simpathy:

Pittious predicament, euen so lies she,

Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbring, Stand vp, stand vp, stand
and you be a man, For Iuliets sake, for her sake rise and stand: Why
should you fall into so deepe an O

Rom. Nurse

Nur. Ah sir, ah sir, deaths the end of all

Rom. Speak'st thou of Iuliet? how is it with her? Doth not she
thinke me an old Murtherer,

Now I haue stain'd the Childhood of our ioy, With blood remoued, but
little from her owne? Where is she? and how doth she? and what sayes My
conceal'd Lady to our conceal'd Loue?

Nur. Oh she sayes nothing sir, but weeps and weeps, And now fals on
her bed, and then starts vp, And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries,
And then downe falls againe

Ro. As if that name shot from the dead leuell of a Gun, Did murder
her, as that names cursed hand Murdred her kinsman. Oh tell me Frier,
tell me, In what vile part of this Anatomie

Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sacke The hatefull Mansion

Fri. Hold thy desperate hand:

Art thou a man? thy forme cries out thou art: Thy teares are womanish,
thy wild acts denote The vnreasonable Furie of a beast.

Vnseemely woman, in a seeming man,

And ill beseeming beast in seeming both,

Thou hast amaz'd me. By my holy order,

I thought thy disposition better temper'd. Hast thou slaine Tybalt?
wilt thou slay thy selfe? And slay thy Lady, that in thy life lies, By
doing damned hate vpon thy selfe?

Why rayl'st thou on thy birth? the heauen and earth? Since birth, and
heauen and earth, all three do meete In thee at once, which thou at
once would'st loose. Fie, fie, thou sham'st thy shape, thy loue, thy
wit, Which like a Vsurer abound'st in all:

And vsest none in that true vse indeed,

Which should bedecke thy shape, thy loue, thy wit: Thy Noble shape, is
but a forme of waxe,

Digressing from the Valour of a man,

Thy deare Loue sworne but hollow periurie, Killing that Loue which thou
hast vow'd to cherish. Thy wit, that Ornament, to shape and Loue,
Mishapen in the conduct of them both:

Like powder in a skillesse Souldiers flaske, Is set a fire by thine
owne ignorance,

And thou dismembred with thine owne defence. What, rowse thee man, thy
Iuliet is aliue, For whose deare sake thou wast but lately dead. There
art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee, But thou slew'st Tybalt, there
art thou happie. The law that threatned death became thy Friend. And
turn'd it to exile, there art thou happy. A packe or blessing light
vpon thy backe, Happinesse Courts thee in her best array, But like a
mishaped and sullen wench,

Thou puttest vp thy Fortune and thy Loue: Take heed, take heed, for
such die miserable. Goe get thee to thy Loue as was decreed,

Ascend her Chamber, hence and comfort her: But looke thou stay not till
the watch be set, For then thou canst not passe to Mantua,

Where thou shalt liue till we can finde a time To blaze your marriage,
reconcile your Friends, Beg pardon of thy Prince, and call thee backe,
With twenty hundred thousand times more ioy Then thou went'st forth in
lamentation.

Goe before Nurse, commend me to thy Lady, And bid her hasten all the
house to bed,

Which heauy sorrow makes them apt vnto.

Romeo is comming

Nur. O Lord, I could haue staid here all night, To heare good
counsell: oh what learning is! My Lord Ile tell my Lady you will come

Rom. Do so, and bid my Sweete prepare to chide

Nur. Heere sir, a Ring she bid me giue you sir: Hie you, make hast,
for it growes very late

Rom. How well my comfort is reuiu'd by this

Fri. Go hence,

Goodnight, and here stands all your state: Either be gone before the
watch be set,

Or by the breake of day disguis'd from hence, Soiourne in Mantua, Ile
find out your man, And he shall signifie from time to time,

Euery good hap to you, that chaunces heere: Giue me thy hand, 'tis
late, farewell, goodnight

Rom. But that a ioy past ioy, calls out on me, It were a griefe, so
briefe to part with thee: Farewell.

Exeunt.

Enter old Capulet, his Wife and Paris.

Cap. Things haue falne out sir so vnluckily, That we haue had no time
to moue our Daughter: Looke you, she Lou'd her kinsman Tybalt dearely,
And so did I. Well, we were borne to die. 'Tis very late, she'l not
come downe to night: I promise you, but for your company,

I would haue bin a bed an houre ago

Par. These times of wo, affoord no times to wooe: Madam goodnight,
commend me to your Daughter

Lady. I will, and know her mind early to morrow, To night, she is
mewed vp to her heauinesse

Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender Of my Childes loue: I
thinke she will be rul'd 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 Sonne Paris Loue, And bid her, marke you me,
on Wendsday next, But soft, what day is this?

Par. Monday my Lord

Cap. Monday, ha ha: well Wendsday is too soone, A Thursday let it
be: a Thursday tell her, She shall be married to this Noble Earle: Will
you be ready? do you like this hast? Weele keepe no great adoe, a
Friend or two, For harke you, Tybalt being slaine so late, It may be
thought we held him carelesly,

Being our kinsman, if we reuell much:

Therefore weele haue some halfe a dozen Friends, And there an end. But
what say you to Thursday?   Paris. My Lord,

I would that Thursday were to morrow

Cap. Well, get you gone, a Thursday, be it then: Go you to Iuliet
ere you go to bed,

Prepare her wife, against this wedding day. Farewell my Lord, light to
my Chamber hoa, Afore me, it is so late, that we may call it early by
and by, Goodnight.

Exeunt.

Enter Romeo and Iuliet aloft.

Iul. Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet neere day: It was the
Nightingale, and not the Larke, That pier'st the fearefull hollow of
thine eare, Nightly she sings on yond Pomgranet tree, Beleeue me Loue,
it was the Nightingale

Rom. It was the Larke the Herauld of the Morne: No Nightingale:
looke Loue what enuious streakes Do lace the seuering Cloudes in yonder
East: Nights Candles are burnt out, and Iocond day Stands tipto on the
mistie Mountaines tops, I must be gone and liue, or stay and die

Iul. Yond light is not daylight, 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 be gone,   Rom. Let me be tane,
let me be put to death, I am content, so thou wilt haue it so.

Ile say yon gray is not the mornings eye, 'Tis but the pale reflexe of
Cinthias brow. Nor that is not Larke whose noates do beate The vaulty
heauen so high aboue our heads, I haue more care to stay, then will to
go: Come death and welcome, Iuliet wills it so. How ist my soule, lets
talke, it is not day

Iuli. It is, it is, hie hence be gone away: It is the Larke that
sings so out of tune, Straining harsh Discords, and vnpleasing Sharpes.
Some say the Larke makes sweete Diuision; This doth not so: for she
diuideth vs.

Some say, the Larke and loathed Toad change eyes, O now I would they
had chang'd voyces too: Since arme from arme that voyce doth vs affray,
Hunting thee hence, with Hunts-vp to the day, O now be gone, more light
and it light growes

Rom. More light & light, more darke & darke our woes. Enter Madam
and Nurse.

Nur. Madam

Iul. Nurse

Nur. Your Lady Mother is comming to your chamber, The day is broke,
be wary, looke about

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

Rom. Farewell, farewell, one kisse and Ile descend

Iul. Art thou gone so? Loue, Lord, ay Husband, Friend, I must heare
from thee euery day in the houre, For in a minute there are many
dayes,

O by this count I shall be much in yeares, Ere I againe behold my
Romeo

Rom. Farewell:

I will omit no oportunitie,

That may conuey my greetings Loue, to thee

Iul. O thinkest thou we shall euer meet againe?   Rom. I doubt it
not, and all these woes shall serue For sweet discourses in our time to
come

Iuliet. O God! I haue an ill Diuining soule, Me thinkes I see thee
now, thou art so lowe, As one dead in the bottome of a Tombe,

Either my eye-sight failes, or thou look'st pale

Rom. And trust me Loue, in my eye so do you: Drie sorrow drinkes our
blood. Adue, adue. Enter.

Iul. 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 keepe him long, But send him
backe.

Enter Mother.

Lad. Ho Daughter, are you vp?

Iul. Who ist that calls? Is it my Lady Mother. Is she not downe so
late, or vp so early? What vnaccustom'd cause procures her hither? Lad.
Why how now Iuliet?

Iul. Madam I am not well

Lad. Euermore weeping for your Cozins death? What wilt thou wash him
from his graue with teares? And if thou could'st, thou could'st not
make him liue: Therefore haue done, some griefe shewes much of Loue,
But much of griefe, shewes still some want of wit

Iul. Yet let me weepe, for such a feeling losse

Lad. So shall you feele the losse, but not the Friend Which you
weepe for

Iul. Feeling so the losse,

I cannot chuse but euer weepe the Friend

La. Well Girle, thou weep'st not so much for his death, As that the
Villaine liues which slaughter'd him

Iul. What Villaine, Madam?

Lad. That same Villaine Romeo

Iul. Villaine and he, be many miles assunder: God pardon, I doe with
all my heart:

And yet no man like he, doth grieue my heart

Lad. That is because the Traitor liues

Iul. I Madam from the reach of these my hands: Would none but I
might venge my Cozins death

Lad. We will haue vengeance for it, feare thou not. Then weepe no
more, Ile send to one in Mantua, Where that same banisht Run-agate doth
liue, Shall giue him such an vnaccustom'd dram, That he shall soone
keepe Tybalt company: And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied

Iul. Indeed I neuer shall be satisfied With Romeo, till I behold
him. Dead

Is my poore heart so for a kinsman vext:

Madam, if you could find out but a man

To beare a poyson, I would temper it;

That Romeo should vpon receit thereof,

Soone sleepe in quiet. O how my heart abhors To heare him nam'd, and
cannot come to him, To wreake the Loue I bore my Cozin,

Vpon his body that hath slaughter'd him

Mo. Find thou the meanes, and Ile find such a man. But now Ile tell
thee ioyfull tidings Gyrle

Iul. And ioy comes well, in such a needy time, What are they,
beseech your Ladyship?

Mo. Well, well, thou hast a carefull Father Child? One who to put
thee from thy heauinesse,

Hath sorted out a sudden day of ioy,

That thou expects not, nor I lookt not for

Iul. Madam in happy time, what day is this?   Mo. Marry my Child,
early next Thursday morne, The gallant, young, and Noble Gentleman,

The Countie Paris at Saint Peters Church, Shall happily make thee a
ioyfull Bride

Iul. Now by Saint Peters Church, and Peter too, He shall not make me
there a ioyfull Bride. I wonder at this hast, that I must wed

Ere he that should be Husband comes to woe: I pray you tell my Lord and
Father Madam, I will not marrie yet, and when I doe, I sweare It shall
be Romeo, whom you know I hate

Rather then Paris. These are newes indeed

Mo. Here comes your Father, tell him so your selfe, And see how he
will take it at your hands. Enter Capulet and Nurse.

Cap. When the Sun sets, the earth doth drizzle deaw But for the
Sunset of my Brothers Sonne,

It raines downright.

How now? A Conduit Gyrle, what still in teares? Euermore showring in
one little body?

Thou counterfaits a Barke, a Sea, a Wind: For still thy eyes, which I
may call the Sea, Do ebbe and flow with teares, the Barke thy body is
Sayling in this salt floud, the windes thy sighes, Who raging with the
teares and they with them, Without a sudden calme will ouer set

Thy tempest tossed body. How now wife?

Haue you deliuered to her our decree?

Lady. I sir;

But she will none, she giues you thankes, I would the foole were
married to her graue

Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you wife, How, will she
none? doth she not giue vs thanks? Is she not proud? doth she not count
her blest, Vnworthy as she is, that we haue wrought

So worthy a Gentleman, to be her Bridegroome   Iul. Not proud you
haue,

But thankfull that you haue:

Proud can I neuer be of what I haue,

But thankfull euen for hate, that is meant Loue

Cap. How now?

How now? Chopt Logicke? what is this?

Proud, and I thanke you: and I thanke you not. Thanke me no thankings,
nor proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine ioints 'gainst Thursday
next, To go with Paris to Saint Peters Church:

Or I will drag thee, on a Hurdle thither. Out you greene sicknesse
carrion, out you baggage, You tallow face

Lady. Fie, fie, what are you mad?

Iul. Good Father, I beseech you on my knees Heare me with patience,
but to speake a word

Fa. Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch, I tell thee what,
get thee to Church a Thursday, Or neuer after looke me in the face.

Speake not, reply not, do not answere me. My fingers itch, wife: we
scarce thought vs blest, That God had lent vs but this onely Child, But
now I see this one is one too much,

And that we haue a curse in hauing her:

Out on her Hilding

Nur. God in heauen blesse her,

You are too blame my Lord to rate her so

Fa. And why my Lady wisedome? hold your tongue, Good Prudence,
smatter with your gossip, go

Nur. I speak no treason,

Father, O Godigoden,

May not one speake?

Fa. Peace you mumbling foole,

Vtter your grauitie ore a Gossips bowles

For here we need it not

La. You are too hot

Fa. Gods bread, it makes me mad:

Day, night, houre, ride, time, worke, play, Alone in companie, still my
care hath bin To haue her matcht, and hauing now prouided A Gentleman
of Noble Parentage,

Of faire Demeanes, Youthfull, and Nobly Allied, Stuft as they say with
Honourable parts,

Proportion'd as ones thought would wish a man, And then to haue a
wretched puling foole, A whining mammet, in her Fortunes tender, To
answer, Ile not wed, I cannot Loue:

I am too young, I pray you pardon me.

But, and you will not wed, Ile pardon you. Graze where you will, you
shall not house with me: Looke too't, thinke on't, I do not vse to
iest. Thursday is neere, lay hand on heart, aduise, And you be mine,
Ile giue you to my Friend: And you be not, hang, beg, starue, die in
the streets, For by my soule, Ile nere acknowledge thee, Nor what is
mine shall neuer do thee good: Trust too't, bethinke you, Ile not be
forsworne Enter.

Iuli. Is there no pittie sitting in the Cloudes, That sees into the
bottome of my griefe?

O sweet my Mother cast me not away,

Delay this marriage, for a month, a weeke, Or if you do not, make the
Bridall bed

In that dim Monument where Tybalt lies

Mo. Talke not to me, for Ile not speake a word, Do as thou wilt, for
I haue done with thee. Enter.

Iul. O God!

O Nurse, how shall this be preuented?

My Husband is on earth, my faith in heauen, How shall that faith
returne againe to earth, Vnlesse that Husband send it me from heauen,
By leauing earth? Comfort me, counsaile me: Alacke, alacke, that heauen
should practise stratagems Vpon so soft a subiect as my selfe.

What saist thou? hast thou not a word of ioy? Some comfort Nurse

Nur. Faith here it is,

Romeo is banished, and all the world to nothing, That he dares nere
come backe to challenge you: Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then since the case so stands as now it doth, I thinke it best you
married with the Countie, O hee's a Louely Gentleman:

Romeos a dish-clout to him: an Eagle Madam Hath not so greene, so
quicke, so faire an eye As Paris hath, beshrow my very heart,

I thinke 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
liuing here and you no vse of him

Iul. Speakest thou from thy heart?

Nur. And from my soule too,

Or else beshrew them both

Iul. Amen

Nur. What?

Iul. Well, thou hast comforted me marue'lous much, Go in, and tell my
Lady I am gone,

Hauing displeas'd my Father, to Lawrence Cell, To make confession, and
to be absolu'd

Nur. Marrie I will, and this is wisely done

Iul. Auncient damnation, O most wicked fiend! It is more sin to wish
me thus forsworne, Or to dispraise my Lord with that same tongue Which
she hath prais'd him with aboue compare, So many thousand times? Go
Counsellor,

Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twaine: Ile to the Frier to know
his remedie,

If all else faile, my selfe haue power to die.

Exeunt.

Enter Frier and Countie Paris.

Fri. On Thursday sir? the time is very short

Par. My Father Capulet will haue it so, And I am nothing slow to
slack his hast

Fri. You say you do not know the Ladies mind? Vneuen is the course,
I like it not

Pa. Immoderately she weepes for Tybalts death, And therfore haue I
little talke of Loue, For Venus smiles not in a house of teares. Now
sir, her Father counts it dangerous

That she doth giue her sorrow so much sway: And in his wisedome, hasts
our marriage,

To stop the inundation of her teares,

Which too much minded by her selfe alone, May be put from her by
societie.

Now doe you know the reason of this hast?   Fri. I would I knew not why
it should be slow'd. Looke sir, here comes the Lady towards my Cell.
Enter Iuliet.

Par. Happily met, my Lady and my wife

Iul. That may be sir, when I may be a wife

Par. That may be, must be Loue, on Thursday next

Iul. What must be shall be

Fri. That's a certaine text

Par. Come you to make confession to this Father?   Iul. To answere
that, I should confesse to you

Par. Do not denie to him, that you Loue me

Iul. I will confesse to you that I Loue him

Par. So will ye, I am sure that you Loue me

Iul. If I do so, it will be of more price, Being spoke behind your
backe, then to your face

Par. Poore soule, thy face is much abus'd with teares

Iul. The teares haue got small victorie by that: For it was bad
inough before their spight

Pa. Thou wrong'st it more then teares with that report

Iul. That is no slaunder sir, which is a truth, And what I spake, I
spake it to thy face

Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slaundred it

Iul. It may be so, for it is not mine owne. Are you at leisure, Holy
Father now,

Or shall I come to you at euening Masse?

Fri. My leisure serues me pensiue daughter now. My Lord you must
intreat the time alone

Par. Godsheild: I should disturbe Deuotion, Iuliet, on Thursday
early will I rowse yee, Till then adue, and keepe this holy kisse.

Exit Paris.

Iul. O shut the doore, and when thou hast done so, Come weepe with
me, past hope, past care, past helpe

Fri. O Iuliet, I alreadie know thy griefe, It streames me past the
compasse of my wits: I heare thou must and nothing may prorogue it, On
Thursday next be married to this Countie

Iul. Tell me not Frier that thou hearest of this, Vnlesse thou tell
me how I may preuent it: If in thy wisedome, thou canst giue no helpe,
Do thou but call my resolution wise,

And with this knife, Ile helpe it presently. God ioyn'd my heart, and
Romeos, thou our hands, And ere this hand by thee to Romeo seal'd:
Shall be the Labell to another Deede,

Or my true heart with trecherous reuolt,

Turne to another, this shall slay them both: Therefore out of thy long
experien'st time, Giue me some present counsell, or behold

Twixt my extreames and me, this bloody knife Shall play the vmpeere,
arbitrating that, Which the commission of thy yeares 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, speake not of remedy

Fri. Hold Daughter, I doe spie a kind of hope, Which craues as
desperate an execution,

As that is desperate which we would preuent. If rather then to marrie
Countie Paris

Thou hast the strength of will to slay thy selfe, Then is it likely
thou wilt vndertake

A thing like death to chide away this shame, That coap'st with death
himselfe, to scape fro it: And if thou dar'st, Ile giue thee remedie

Iul. Oh bid me leape, rather then marrie Paris, From of the
Battlements of any Tower,

Or walke in theeuish waies, or bid me lurke Where Serpents are: chaine
me with roaring Beares Or hide me nightly in a Charnell house,

Orecouered quite with dead mens ratling bones, With reckie shankes and
yellow chappels sculls: Or bid me go into a new made graue,

And hide me with a dead man in his graue, Things that to heare them
told, haue made me tremble, And I will doe it without feare or doubt,
To liue an vnstained wife to my sweet Loue

Fri. Hold then: goe home, be merrie, giue consent, To marrie Paris:
wensday is to morrow,

To morrow night looke that thou lie alone, Let not thy Nurse lie with
thee in thy Chamber: Take thou this Violl being then in bed,

And this distilling liquor drinke thou off, When presently through all
thy veines shall run, A cold and drowsie humour: for no pulse

Shall keepe his natiue progresse, but surcease: No warmth, no breath
shall testifie thou liuest, The Roses in thy lips and cheekes shall
fade To many ashes, the eyes windowes fall

Like death when he shut vp the day of life: Each part depriu'd of
supple gouernment,

Shall stiffe and starke, and cold appeare like death, And in this
borrowed likenesse of shrunke death Thou shalt continue two and forty
houres, And then awake, as from a pleasant sleepe. Now when the
Bridegroome in the morning comes, To rowse thee from thy bed, there art
thou dead: Then as the manner of our country is,

In thy best Robes vncouer'd on the Beere, Be borne to buriall in thy
kindreds graue: Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault, Where
all the kindred of the Capulets lie, In the meane time against thou
shalt awake, Shall Romeo by my Letters know our drift, And hither shall
he come, and that very night Shall Romeo beare thee hence to Mantua.

And this shall free thee from this present shame, If no inconstant toy
nor womanish feare,

Abate thy valour in the acting it

Iul. Giue me, giue me, O tell me not of care

Fri. Hold get you gone, be strong and prosperous: In this resolue,
Ile send a Frier with speed To Mantua with my Letters to thy Lord

Iu. Loue giue me strength,

And the strength shall helpe afford:

Farewell deare father.

Exit

Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and Seruing men, two or three.

Cap. So many guests inuite as here are writ, Sirrah, go hire me
twenty cunning Cookes

Ser. You shall haue none ill sir, for Ile trie if they can licke
their fingers

Cap. How canst thou trie them so?

Ser. Marrie sir, 'tis an ill Cooke that cannot licke his owne
fingers: therefore he that cannot licke his fingers goes not with me

Cap. Go be gone, we shall be much vnfurnisht for this time: what is
my Daughter gone to Frier Lawrence?   Nur. I forsooth

Cap. Well he may chance to do some good on her, A peeuish selfe-wild
harlotry it is.

Enter Iuliet.

Nur. See where she comes from shrift

With merrie looke

Cap. How now my headstrong,

Where haue you bin gadding?

Iul. Where I haue learnt me to repent the sin Of disobedient
opposition:

To you and your behests, and am enioyn'd

By holy Lawrence, to fall prostrate here, To beg your pardon: pardon I
beseech you, Henceforward I am euer rul'd by you

Cap. Send for the Countie, goe tell him of this, Ile haue this knot
knit vp to morrow morning

Iul. I met the youthfull Lord at Lawrence Cell, And gaue him what
becomed Loue I might,

Not stepping ore the bounds of modestie

Cap. Why I am glad on't, this is well, stand vp, This is as't should
be, let me see the County: I marrie go I say, and fetch him hither.

Now afore God, this reueren'd holy Frier, All our whole Cittie is much
bound to him

Iul. Nurse will you goe with me into my Closet, To helpe me sort
such needfull ornaments, As you thinke fit to furnish me to morrow? Mo.
No not till Thursday, there's time inough

Fa. Go Nurse, go with her,

Weele to Church to morrow.

Exeunt. Iuliet and Nurse.

Mo. We shall be short in our prouision, 'Tis now neere night

Fa. Tush, I will stirre about,

And all things shall be well, I warrant thee wife: Go thou to Iuliet,
helpe to decke vp her, Ile not to bed to night, let me alone:

Ile play the huswife for this once. What ho? They are all forth, well I
will walke my selfe To Countie Paris, to prepare him vp

Against to morrow, my heart is wondrous light, Since this same way-ward
Gyrle is so reclaim'd.

Exeunt. Father and Mother.

Enter Iuliet and Nurse.

Iul. I those attires are best, but gentle Nurse I pray thee leaue me
to my selfe to night: For I haue need of many Orysons,

To moue the heauens to smile vpon my state, Which well thou know'st, is
crosse and full of sin. Enter Mother.

Mo. What are you busie ho? need you my help?   Iul. No Madam, we haue
cul'd such necessaries As are behoouefull for our state to morrow: So
please you, let me now be left alone;

And let the Nurse this night sit vp with you, For I am sure, you haue
your hands full all, In this so sudden businesse

Mo. Goodnight.

Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need.

Exeunt.

Iul. Farewell:

God knowes when we shall meete againe.

I haue a faint cold feare thrills through my veines, That almost
freezes vp the heate of fire: Ile call them backe againe to comfort me.
Nurse, what should she do here?

My dismall Sceane, I needs must act alone: Come Viall, what if this
mixture do not worke at all? Shall I be married then to morrow morning?
No, no, this shall forbid it. Lie thou there, What if it be a poyson
which the Frier

Subtilly hath ministred to haue me dead,

Least in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, Because he married me
before to Romeo?

I feare it is, and yet me thinkes it should not, For he hath still
beene tried a holy man. How, if when I am laid into the Tombe,

I wake before the time that Romeo

Come to redeeme me? There's a fearefull point: Shall I not then be
stifled in the Vault? To whose foule mouth no healthsome ayre breaths
in, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes. Or if I liue, is it not
very like,

The horrible conceit of death and night,

Together with the terror of the place,

As in a Vaulte, an ancient receptacle,

Where for these many hundred yeeres the bones Of all my buried
Auncestors are packt,

Where bloody Tybalt, yet but greene in earth, Lies festring in his
shrow'd, where as they say, At some houres in the night, Spirits
resort: Alacke, alacke, is it not like that I

So early waking, what with loathsome smels, And shrikes like Mandrakes
torne out of the earth, That liuing mortalls hearing them, run mad. O
if I wake, shall I not be distraught,

Inuironed with all these hidious feares,

And madly play with my forefathers ioynts? And plucke the mangled
Tybalt from his shrow'd? And in this rage, with some great kinsmans
bone, As (with a club) dash out my desperate braines. O looke, me
thinks I see my Cozins Ghost, Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body

Vpon my Rapiers point: stay Tybalt, stay; Romeo, Romeo, Romeo, here's
drinke: I drinke to thee. Enter Lady of the house, and Nurse.

Lady. Hold,

Take these keies, and fetch more spices Nurse

Nur. They call for Dates and Quinces in the Pastrie. Enter old
Capulet.

Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir,

The second Cocke hath Crow'd,

The Curphew Bell hath rung, 'tis three a clocke: Looke to the bakte
meates, good Angelica, Spare not for cost

Nur. Go you Cot-queane, go,

Get you to bed, faith youle be sicke to morrow For this nights
watching

Cap. No not a whit: what? I haue watcht ere now All night for lesse
cause, and nere beene sicke

La. I you haue bin a Mouse-hunt in your time, But I will watch you
from such watching now.

Exit Lady and Nurse.

Cap. A iealous hood, a iealous hood,

Now fellow, what there?

Enter three or foure with spits, and logs, and baskets.

Fel. Things for the Cooke sir, but I know not what

Cap. Make hast, make hast, sirrah, fetch drier Logs. Call Peter, he
will shew thee where they are

Fel. I haue a head sir, that will find out logs, And neuer trouble
Peter for the matter

Cap. Masse and well said, a merrie horson, ha, Thou shalt be
loggerhead; good Father, 'tis day.

Play Musicke

The Countie will be here with Musicke straight, For so he said he
would, I heare him neere, Nurse, wife, what ho? what Nurse I say?

Enter Nurse.

Go waken Iuliet, go and trim her vp,

Ile go and chat with Paris: hie, make hast, Make hast, the Bridegroome,
he is come already: Make hast I say

Nur. Mistris, what Mistris? Iuliet? Fast I warrant her she. Why
Lambe, why Lady? fie you sluggabed,

Why Loue I say? Madam, sweet heart: why Bride? What not a word? You
take your peniworths now. Sleepe for a weeke, for the next night I
warrant The Countie Paris hath set vp his rest,

That you shall rest but little, God forgiue me: Marrie and Amen: how
sound is she a sleepe? I must needs wake her: Madam, Madam, Madam, I,
let the Countie take you in your bed,

Heele fright you vp yfaith. Will it not be? What drest, and in your
clothes, and downe againe? I must needs wake you: Lady, Lady, Lady?

Alas, alas, helpe, helpe, my Ladyes dead, Oh weladay, that euer I was
borne,

Some Aqua-vit ho, my Lord, my Lady?

Mo. What noise is heere?

Enter Mother.

Nur. O lamentable day

Mo. What is the matter?

Nur. Looke, looke, oh heauie day

Mo. O me, O me, my Child, my onely life: Reuiue, looke vp, or I will
die with thee: Helpe, helpe, call helpe.

Enter Father.

Fa. For shame bring Iuliet forth, her Lord is come

Nur. Shee's dead: deceast, shee's dead: alacke the day

M. Alacke the day, shee's dead, shee's dead, shee's dead

Fa. Ha? Let me see her: out alas shee's cold, Her blood is setled
and her ioynts are stiffe: Life and these lips haue long bene
seperated: Death lies on her like an vntimely frost

Vpon the swetest flower of all the field

Nur. O Lamentable day!

Mo. O wofull time

Fa. Death that hath tane her hence to make me waile, Ties vp my
tongue, and will not let me speake. Enter Frier and the Countie.

Fri. Come, is the Bride ready to go to Church?   Fa. Ready to go, but
neuer to returne.

O Sonne, the night before thy wedding day, Hath death laine with thy
wife: there she lies, Flower as she was, deflowred by him.

Death is my Sonne in law, death is my Heire, My Daughter he hath
wedded. I will die,

And leaue him all life liuing, all is deaths

Pa. Haue I thought long to see this mornings face, And doth it giue
me such a sight as this?   Mo. Accur'st, vnhappie, wretched hatefull
day, Most miserable houre, that ere time saw

In lasting labour of his Pilgrimage.

But one, poore one, one poore and louing Child, But one thing to
reioyce and solace in,

And cruell death hath catcht it from my sight

Nur. O wo, O wofull, wofull, wofull day, Most lamentable day, most
wofull day,

That euer, euer, I did yet behold.

O day, O day, O day, O hatefull day,

Neuer was seene so blacke a day as this:

O wofull day, O wofull day

Pa. Beguild, diuorced, wronged, spighted, slaine, Most detestable
death, by thee beguil'd,

By cruell, cruell thee, quite ouerthrowne: O loue, O life; not life,
but loue in death

Fat. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martir'd, kil'd, Vncomfortable
time, why cam'st thou now

To murther, murther our solemnitie?

O Child, O Child; my soule, and not my Child, Dead art thou, alacke my
Child is dead,

And with my Child, my ioyes are buried

Fri. Peace ho for shame, confusions: Care liues not In these
confusions, heauen and your selfe Had part in this faire Maid, now
heauen hath all, And all the better is it for the Maid:

Your part in her, you could not keepe from death, But heauen keepes his
part in eternall life: The most you sought was her promotion,

For 'twas your heauen, she shouldst be aduan'st, And weepe ye now,
seeing she is aduan'st

Aboue the Cloudes, as high as Heauen it selfe? O in this loue, you loue
your Child so ill, That you run mad, seeing that she is well: Shee's
not well married, that liues married long, But shee's best married,
that dies married yong. Drie vp your teares, and sticke your Rosemarie
On this faire Coarse, and as the custome is, And in her best array
beare her to Church: For though some Nature bids all vs lament, Yet
Natures teares are Reasons merriment

Fa. All things that we ordained Festiuall, Turne from their office
to blacke Funerall: Our instruments to melancholy Bells,

Our wedding cheare, to a sad buriall Feast: Our solemne Hymnes, to
sullen Dyrges change: Our Bridall flowers serue for a buried Coarse:
And all things change them to the contrarie

Fri. Sir go you in; and Madam, go with him, And go sir Paris, euery
one prepare

To follow this faire Coarse vnto her graue: The heauens do lowre vpon
you, for some ill: Moue them no more, by crossing their high will.

Exeunt.

Mu. Faith we may put vp our Pipes and be gone

Nur. Honest goodfellowes: Ah put vp, put vp, For well you know, this
is a pitifull case

Mu. I by my troth, the case may be amended. Enter Peter.

Pet. Musitions, oh Musitions,

Hearts ease, hearts ease,

O, and you will haue me liue, play hearts ease

Mu. Why hearts ease;

Pet. O Musitions,

Because my heart it selfe plaies, my heart is full

Mu. Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now

Pet. You will not then?

Mu. No

Pet. I will then giue it you soundly

Mu. What will you giue vs?

Pet. No money on my faith, but the gleeke. I will giue you the
Minstrell

Mu. Then will I giue you the Seruing creature

Peter. Then will I lay the seruing Creatures Dagger on your pate. I
will carie no Crochets, Ile Re you, Ile Fa you, do you note me?

Mu. And you Re vs, and Fa vs, you Note vs

2.M. Pray you put vp your Dagger,

And put out your wit.

Then haue at you with my wit

Peter. I will drie-beate you with an yron wit, And put vp my yron
Dagger.

Answere me like men:

When griping griefes the heart doth wound, then Musicke with her siluer
sound.

Why siluer sound? why Musicke with her siluer sound? what say you Simon
Catling?

Mu. Mary sir, because siluer hath a sweet sound

Pet. Pratest, what say you Hugh Rebicke?   2.M. I say siluer sound,
because Musitions sound for siluer   Pet. Pratest to, what say you
Iames Sound-Post?   3.Mu. Faith I know not what to say

Pet. O I cry you mercy, you are the Singer. I will say for you; it
is Musicke with her siluer sound, Because Musitions haue no gold for
sounding: Then Musicke with her siluer sound, with speedy helpe doth
lend redresse.

Enter.

Mu. What a pestilent knaue is this same?   M.2. Hang him Iacke, come
weele in here, tarrie for the Mourners, and stay dinner.

Enter.

Enter Romeo.

Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleepe, My dreames
presage some ioyfull newes at hand: My bosomes L[ord]. sits lightly in
his throne: And all this day an vnaccustom'd spirit,

Lifts me aboue the ground with cheerefull thoughts. I dreamt my Lady
came and found me dead,

(Strange dreame that giues a dead man leaue to thinke,) And breath'd
such life with kisses in my lips, That I reuiu'd and was an Emperour.

Ah me, how sweet is loue it selfe possest, When but loues shadowes are
so rich in ioy. Enter Romeo's man.

Newes from Verona, how now Balthazer?

Dost thou not bring me Letters from the Frier? How doth my Lady? Is my
Father well?

How doth my Lady Iuliet? that I aske againe, For nothing can be ill, is
she be well

Man. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. Her body sleepes in
Capels Monument,

And her immortall part with Angels liue,

I saw her laid low in her kindreds Vault, And presently tooke Poste to
tell it you: O pardon me for bringing these ill newes, Since you did
leaue it for my office Sir

Rom. Is it euen so?

Then I denie you Starres.

Thou knowest my lodging, get me inke and paper, And hire Post-Horses, I
will hence to night

Man. I do beseech you sir, haue patience: Your lookes are pale and
wild, and do import Some misaduenture

Rom. Tush, thou art deceiu'd,

Leaue me, and do the thing I bid thee do. Hast thou no Letters to me
from the Frier?   Man. No my good Lord.

Exit Man.

Rom. No matter: Get thee gone,

And hyre those Horses, Ile be with thee straight, Well Iuliet, I will
lie with thee to night: Lets see for meanes, O mischiefe thou art
swift, To enter in the thoughts of desperate men: I do remember an
Appothecarie,

And here abouts dwells, which late I noted In tattred weeds, with
ouerwhelming browes, Culling of Simples, meager were his lookes, Sharp
miserie had worne him to the bones: And in his needie shop a Tortoyrs
hung,

An Allegater stuft, and other skins

Of ill shap'd fishes, and about his shelues, A beggerly account of
emptie boxes ,

Greene earthen pots, Bladders, and mustie seedes, Remnants of
packthred, and old cakes of Roses Were thinly scattered, to make vp a
shew. Noting this penury, to my selfe I said,

An if a man did need a poyson now,

Whose sale is present death in Mantua,

Here liues a Caitiffe wretch would sell it him. O this same thought did
but fore-run my need, And this same needie man must sell it me. As I
remember, this should be the house,

Being holy day, the beggers shop is shut. What ho? Appothecarie?

Enter Appothecarie.

App. Who call's so low'd?

Rom. Come hither man, I see that thou art poore, Hold, there is
fortie Duckets, let me haue A dram of poyson, such soone speeding
geare, As will disperse it selfe through all the veines, That the
life-wearie-taker may fall dead, And that the Trunke may be discharg'd
of breath, As violently, as hastie powder fier'd

Doth hurry from the fatall Canons wombe

App. Such mortall drugs I haue, but Mantuas law Is death to any he,
that vtters them

Rom. Art thou so bare and full of wretchednesse, And fear'st to die?
Famine is in thy cheekes, Need and opression starueth in thy eyes,

Contempt and beggery hangs vpon thy backe: The world is not thy friend,
nor the worlds law: The world affords no law to make thee rich. Then be
not poore, but breake it, and take this

App. My pouerty, but not my will consents

Rom. I pray thy pouerty, and not thy will

App. Put this in any liquid thing you will And drinke it off, and if
you had the strength Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight

Rom. There's thy Gold,

Worse poyson to mens soules,

Doing more murther in this loathsome world, Then these poore compounds
that thou maiest not sell. I sell thee poyson, thou hast sold me none,
Farewell, buy food, and get thy selfe in flesh. Come Cordiall, and not
poyson, go with me To Iuliets graue, for there must I vse thee.

Exeunt.

Enter Frier Iohn to Frier Lawrence.

Iohn. Holy Franciscan Frier, Brother, ho? Enter Frier Lawrence.

Law. This same should be the voice of Frier Iohn. Welcome from
Mantua, what sayes Romeo?

Or if his mind be writ, giue me his Letter

Iohn. Going to find a bare-foote Brother out, One of our order to
associate me,

Here in this Citie visiting the sick,

And finding him, the Searchers of the Towne Suspecting that we both
were in a house

Where the infectious pestilence did raigne, Seal'd vp the doores, and
would not let vs forth, So that my speed to Mantua there was staid

Law. Who bare my Letter then to Romeo?   Iohn. I could not send it,
here it is againe, Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,

So fearefull were they of infection

Law. Vnhappie Fortune: by my Brotherhood The Letter was not nice;
but full of charge, Of deare import; and the neglecting it

May do much danger: Frier Iohn go hence,

Get me an Iron Crow, and bring it straight Vnto my Cell

Iohn. Brother Ile go and bring it thee. Enter.

Law. Now must I to the Monument alone,

Within this three houres will faire Iuliet wake, Shee will beshrew me
much that Romeo

Hath had no notice of these accidents:

But I will write againe to Mantua,

And keepe her at my Cell till Romeo come, Poore liuing Coarse, clos'd
in a dead mans Tombe, Enter.

Enter Paris and his Page.

Par. Giue me thy Torch Boy, hence and stand aloft, Yet put it out,
for I would not be seene: Vnder yond young Trees lay thee all along,
Holding thy eare close to the hollow ground, So shall no foot vpon the
Churchyard tread, Being loose, vnfirme with digging vp of Graues, But
thou shalt heare it: whistle then to me, As signall that thou hearest
some thing approach, Giue me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go

Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone Here in the Churchyard, yet
I will aduenture

Pa. Sweet Flower with flowers thy Bridall bed I strew: O woe, thy
Canopie is dust and stones,

Which with sweet water nightly I will dewe, Or wanting that, with
teares destil'd by mones; The obsequies that I for thee will keepe,
Nightly shall be, to strew thy graue, and weepe.

Whistle Boy.

The Boy giues warning, something doth approach, What cursed foot
wanders this wayes to night, To crosse my obsequies, and true loues
right? What with a Torch? Muffle me night a while. Enter Romeo, and
Peter.

Rom. Giue me that Mattocke, & the wrenching Iron, Hold take this
Letter, early in the morning See thou deliuer it to my Lord and Father,
Giue me the light; vpon thy life I charge thee, What ere thou hear'st
or seest, stand all aloofe, And do not interrupt me in my course.

Why I descend into this bed of death,

Is partly to behold my Ladies face:

But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger, A precious Ring, a
Ring that I must vse,

In deare employment, therefore hence be gone: But if thou iealous dost
returne to prie

In what I further shall intend to do,

By heauen I will teare thee ioynt by ioynt, And strew this hungry
Churchyard with thy limbs: The time, and my intents are sauage wilde:
More fierce and more inexorable farre,

Them emptie Tygers, or the roaring Sea

Pet. I will be gone sir, and not trouble you   Ro. So shalt thou
shew me friendship: take thou that, Liue and be prosperous, and
farewell good fellow

Pet. For all this same, Ile hide me here about, His lookes I feare,
and his intents I doubt

Rom. Thou detestable mawe, thou wombe of death, Gorg'd with the
dearest morsell of the earth: Thus I enforce thy rotten Iawes to open,

And in despight, Ile cram thee with more food

Par. This is that banisht haughtie Mountague, That murdred my Loues
Cozin; with which griefe, It is supposed the faire Creature died,

And here is come to do some villanous shame To the dead bodies: I will
apprehend him. Stop thy vnhallowed toyle, vile Mountague: Can vengeance
be pursued further then death? Condemned villaine, I do apprehend
thee.

Obey and go with me, for thou must die,

Rom. I must indeed, and therfore came I hither: Good gentle youth,
tempt not a desperate man, Flie hence and leaue me, thinke vpon those
gone, Let them affright thee. I beseech thee Youth, Put not an other
sin vpon my head,

By vrging me to furie. O be gone,

By heauen I loue thee better then my selfe, For I come hither arm'd
against my selfe: Stay not, be gone, liue, and hereafter say, A mad
mans mercy bid thee run away

Par. I do defie thy commisseration,

And apprehend thee for a Fellon here

Ro. Wilt thou prouoke me? Then haue at thee Boy

Pet. O Lord they fight, I will go call the Watch

Pa. O I am slaine, if thou be mercifull, Open the Tombe, lay me with
Iuliet

Rom. In faith I will, let me peruse this face: Mercutius kinsman,
Noble Countie Paris,

What said my man, when my betossed soule

Did not attend him as we rode? I thinke

He told me Paris should haue married Iuliet. Said he not so? Or did I
dreame it so?

Or am I mad, hearing him talke of Iuliet, To thinke it was so? O giue
me thy hand,

One, writ with me in sowre misfortunes booke. Ile burie thee in a
triumphant graue.

A Graue; O no, a Lanthorne; slaughtred Youth: For here lies Iuliet, and
her beautie makes This Vault a feasting presence full of light. Death
lie thou there, by a dead man inter'd, How oft when men are at the
point of death, Haue they beene merrie? Which their Keepers call A
lightning before death? Oh how may I

Call this a lightning? O my Loue, my Wife, Death that hath suckt the
honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet vpon thy Beautie:

Thou are not conquer'd: Beauties ensigne yet Is Crymson in thy lips,
and in thy cheekes, And Deaths pale flag is not aduanced there. Tybalt,
ly'st thou there in thy bloudy sheet? O what more fauour can I do to
thee,

Then with that hand that cut thy youth in twaine, To sunder his that
was thy enemie?

Forgiue me Cozen. Ah deare Iuliet:

Why art thou yet so faire? I will beleeue, Shall I beleeue, that
vnsubstantiall death is amorous? And that the leane abhorred Monster
keepes Thee here in darke to be his Paramour?

For feare of that, I still will stay with thee, And neuer from this
Pallace of dym night

Depart againe: come lie thou in my armes, Heere's to thy health, where
ere thou tumblest in. O true Appothecarie!

Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kisse I die. Depart againe; here,
here will I remaine, With Wormes that are thy Chambermaides: O here
Will I set vp my euerlasting rest:

And shake the yoke of inauspicious starres From this world-wearied
flesh: Eyes looke your last: Armes take your last embrace: And lips, O
you The doores of breath, seale with a righteous kisse A datelesse
bargaine to ingrossing death: Come bitter conduct, come vnsauory guide,
Thou desperate Pilot, now at once run on

The dashing Rocks, thy Sea-sicke wearie Barke: Heere's to my Loue. O
true Appothecary:

Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kisse I die. Enter Frier with a
Lanthorne, Crow, and Spade.

Fri. St. Francis be my speed, how oft to night Haue my old feet
stumbled at graues? Who's there?   Man. Here's one, a Friend, & one
that knowes you well

Fri. Blisse be vpon you. Tell me good my Friend What Torch is yond
that vainely lends his light To grubs, and eyelesse Sculles? As I
discerne, It burneth in the Capels Monument

Man. It doth so holy sir,

And there's my Master, one that you loue

Fri. Who is it?

Man. Romeo

Fri. How long hath he bin there?

Man. Full halfe an houre

Fri. Go with me to the Vault

Man. I dare not Sir.

My Master knowes not but I am gone hence, And fearefully did menace me
with death,

If I did stay to looke on his entents

Fri. Stay, then Ile go alone, feares comes vpon me. O much I feare
some ill vnluckie thing

Man. As I did sleepe vnder this young tree here, I dreamt my maister
and another fought,

And that my Maister slew him

Fri. Romeo.

Alacke, alacke, what blood is this which staines The stony entrance of
this Sepulcher?

What meane these Masterlesse, and goarie Swords To lie discolour'd by
this place of peace? Romeo, oh pale: who else? what Paris too? And
steept in blood? Ah what an vnkind houre Is guiltie of this lamentable
chance?

The Lady stirs

Iul. O comfortable Frier, where's my Lord? I do remember well where
I should be:

And there I am, where is my Romeo?

Fri. I heare some noyse Lady, come from that nest Of death,
contagion, and vnnaturall sleepe, A greater power then we can
contradict

Hath thwarted our entents, come, come away, Thy husband in thy bosome
there lies dead: And Paris too: come Ile dispose of thee,

Among a Sisterhood of holy Nunnes:

Stay not to question, for the watch is comming. Come, go good Iuliet, I
dare no longer stay. Enter.

Iul. Go get thee hence, for I will not away, What's here, A cup
clos'd in my true loues hand? Poyson I see hath bin his timelesse end

O churle, drinke all? and left no friendly drop, To helpe me after, I
will kisse thy lips, Happlie some poyson yet doth hang on them, To make
me die with a restoratiue.

Thy lips are warme.

Enter Boy and Watch.

Watch. Lead Boy, which way?

Iul. Yea noise?

Then ile be briefe. O happy Dagger.

'Tis in thy sheath, there rust and let me die.

Kils herselfe.

Boy. This is the place,

There where the Torch doth burne

Watch. The ground is bloody,

Search about the Churchyard.

Go some of you, who ere you find attach.

Pittifull sight, here lies the Countie slaine, And Iuliet bleeding,
warme and newly dead Who here hath laine these two dayes buried. Go
tell the Prince, runne to the Capulets, Raise vp the Mountagues, some
others search, We see the ground whereon these woes do lye, But the
true ground of all these piteous woes, We cannot without circumstance
descry.

Enter Romeo's man.

Watch. Here's Romeo's man,

We found him in the Churchyard

Con. Hold him in safety, till the Prince come hither. Enter Frier,
and another Watchman.

3.Wat. Here is a Frier that trembles, sighes, and weepes We tooke
this Mattocke and this Spade from him, As he was comming from this
Church-yard side

Con. A great suspition, stay the Frier too. Enter the Prince.

Prin. What misaduenture is so earely vp, That calls our person from
our mornings rest? Enter Capulet and his Wife.

Cap. What should it be that they so shrike abroad?   Wife. O the
people in the streete crie Romeo. Some Iuliet, and some Paris, and all
runne With open outcry toward our Monument

Pri. What feare is this which startles in your eares?   Wat.
Soueraigne, here lies the Countie Paris slaine, And Romeo dead, and
Iuliet dead before,

Warme and new kil'd

Prin. Search,

Seeke, and know how, this foule murder comes

Wat. Here is a Frier, and Slaughter'd Romeos man, With Instruments
vpon them fit to open

These dead mens Tombes

Cap. O heauen!

O wife looke how our Daughter bleedes!

This Dagger hath mistaine, for loe his house Is empty on the backe of
Mountague,

And is misheathed in my Daughters bosome

Wife. O me, this sight of death, is as a Bell That warnes my old age
to a Sepulcher.

Enter Mountague.

Pri. Come Mountague, for thou art early vp To see thy Sonne and
Heire, now early downe

Moun. Alas my liege, my wife is dead to night, Griefe of my Sonnes
exile hath stopt her breath: What further woe conspires against my age?
Prin. Looke: and thou shalt see

Moun. O thou vntaught, what manners is in this, To presse before thy
Father to a graue?

Prin. Seale vp the mouth of outrage for a while, Till we can cleare
these ambiguities,

And know their spring, their head, their true descent, And then I will
be generall of your woes, And lead you euen to death? meane time
forbeare, And let mischance be slaue to patience,

Bring forth the parties of suspition

Fri. I am the greatest, able to doe least, Yet most suspected as the
time and place

Doth make against me of this direfull murther: And heere I stand both
to impeach and purge My selfe condemned, and my selfe excus'd

Prin. Then say at once, what thou dost know in this?   Fri. I will
be briefe, for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious
tale.

Romeo there dead, was husband to that Iuliet, And she there dead,
that's Romeos faithfull wife: I married them; and their stolne marriage
day Was Tybalts Doomesday: whose vntimely death Banish'd the new-made
Bridegroome from this Citie: For whom (and not for Tybalt) Iuliet
pinde. You, to remoue that siege of Greefe from her, Betroth'd, and
would haue married her perforce To Countie Paris. Then comes she to
me,

And (with wilde lookes) bid me deuise some meanes To rid her from this
second Marriage,

Or in my Cell there would she kill her selfe. Then gaue I her (so
Tutor'd by my Art)

A sleeping Potion, which so tooke effect

As I intended, for it wrought on her

The forme of death. Meane time, I writ to Romeo, That he should hither
come, as this dyre night, To helpe to take her from her borrowed graue,
Being the time the Potions force should cease. But he which bore my
Letter, Frier Iohn,

Was stay'd by accident; and yesternight

Return'd my Letter backe. Then all alone, At the prefixed houre of her
waking,

Came I to take her from her Kindreds vault, Meaning to keepe her
closely at my Cell,

Till I conueniently could send to Romeo.

But when I came (some Minute ere the time Of her awaking) heere
vntimely lay

The Noble Paris, and true Romeo dead.

Shee wakes, and I intreated her come foorth, And beare this worke of
Heauen, with patience: But then, a noyse did scarre me from the Tombe,
And she (too desperate) would not go with me, But (as it seemes) did
violence on her selfe. All this I know, and to the Marriage her Nurse
is priuy: And if ought in this miscarried by my fault, Let my old life
be sacrific'd, some houre before the time, Vnto the rigour of seuerest
Law

Prin. We still haue knowne thee for a Holy man. Where's Romeo's man?
What can he say to this?   Boy. I brought my Master newes of Iuliets
death, And then in poste he came from Mantua

To this same place, to this same Monument. This Letter he early bid me
giue his Father, And threatned me with death, going in the Vault, If I
departed not, and left him there

Prin. Giue me the Letter, I will look on it. Where is the Counties
Page that rais'd the Watch? Sirra, what made your Master in this place?
Page. He came with flowres to strew his Ladies graue, And bid me
stand aloofe, and so I did:

Anon comes one with light to ope the Tombe, And by and by my Maister
drew on him,

And then I ran away to call the Watch

Prin. This Letter doth make good the Friers words, Their course of
Loue, the tydings of her death: And heere he writes, that he did buy a
poyson Of a poore Pothecarie, and therewithall

Came to this Vault to dye, and lye with Iuliet. Where be these Enemies?
Capulet, Mountague, See what a scourge is laide vpon your hate, That
Heauen finds meanes to kill your ioyes with Loue; And I, for winking at
your discords too,

Haue lost a brace of Kinsmen: All are punish'd

Cap. O Brother Mountague, giue me thy hand, This is my Daughters
ioynture, for no more Can I demand

Moun. But I can giue thee more:

For I will raise her Statue in pure Gold, That whiles Verona by that
name is knowne, There shall no figure at that Rate be set, As that of
True and Faithfull Iuliet

Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his Lady ly, Poore sacrifices of our
enmity

Prin. A glooming peace this morning with it brings, The Sunne for
sorrow will not shew his head; Go hence, to haue more talke of these
sad things, Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished. For neuer was a
Storie of more Wo,

Then this of Iuliet, and her Romeo.

Exeunt. omnes

FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF ROMEO and IVLIET

The Life of Timon of Athens

Enter Poet, Painter, Ieweller, Merchant, and Mercer, at seuerall
doores.

Poet. Good day Sir

Pain. I am glad y'are well

Poet. I haue not seene you long, how goes the World?

Pain. It weares sir, as it growes

Poet. I that's well knowne:

But what particular Rarity? What strange, Which manifold record not
matches: see

Magicke of Bounty, all these spirits thy power Hath coniur'd to
attend.

I know the Merchant

Pain. I know them both: th' others a Ieweller

Mer. O 'tis a worthy Lord

Iew. Nay that's most fixt

Mer. A most incomparable man, breath'd as it were, To an vntyreable
and continuate goodnesse: He passes

Iew. I haue a Iewell heere

Mer. O pray let's see't. For the Lord Timon, sir?   Iewel. If he
will touch the estimate. But for that-   Poet. When we for recompence
haue prais'd the vild, It staines the glory in that happy Verse, Which
aptly sings the good

Mer. 'Tis a good forme

Iewel. And rich: heere is a Water looke ye

Pain. You are rapt sir, in some worke, some Dedication to the great
Lord

Poet. A thing slipt idlely from me.

Our Poesie is as a Gowne, which vses

From whence 'tis nourisht: the fire i'th' Flint Shewes not, till it be
strooke: our gentle flame Prouokes it selfe, and like the currant flyes
Each bound it chases. What haue you there?   Pain. A Picture sir: when
comes your Booke forth?   Poet. Vpon the heeles of my presentment sir.
Let's see your peece

Pain. 'Tis a good Peece

Poet. So 'tis, this comes off well, and excellent

Pain. Indifferent

Poet. Admirable: How this grace

Speakes his owne standing: what a mentall power This eye shootes forth?
How bigge imagination Moues in this Lip, to th' dumbnesse of the
gesture, One might interpret

Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life: Heere is a touch: Is't
good?

Poet. I will say of it,

It Tutors Nature, Artificiall strife

Liues in these toutches, liuelier then life. Enter certaine Senators.

Pain. How this Lord is followed

Poet. The Senators of Athens, happy men

Pain. Looke moe

Po. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors, I haue in
this rough worke, shap'd out a man Whom this beneath world doth embrace
and hugge With amplest entertainment: My free drift Halts not
particularly, but moues it selfe In a wide Sea of wax, no leuell'd
malice

Infects one comma in the course I hold,

But flies an Eagle flight, bold, and forth on, Leauing no Tract
behinde

Pain. How shall I vnderstand you?

Poet. I will vnboult to you.

You see how all Conditions, how all Mindes, As well of glib and
slipp'ry Creatures, as Of Graue and austere qualitie, tender downe
Their seruices to Lord Timon: his large Fortune, Vpon his good and
gracious Nature hanging, Subdues and properties to his loue and
tendance All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glasse-fac'd Flatterer To
Apemantus, that few things loues better Then to abhorre himselfe; euen
hee drops downe The knee before him, and returnes in peace Most rich in
Timons nod

Pain. I saw them speake together

Poet. Sir, I haue vpon a high and pleasant hill Feign'd Fortune to
be thron'd.

The Base o'th' Mount

Is rank'd with all deserts, all kinde of Natures That labour on the
bosome of this Sphere, To propagate their states; among'st them all,
Whose eyes are on this Soueraigne Lady fixt, One do I personate of Lord
Timons frame,

Whom Fortune with her Iuory hand wafts to her, Whose present grace, to
present slaues and seruants Translates his Riuals

Pain. 'Tis conceyu'd, to scope

This Throne, this Fortune, and this Hill me thinkes With one man
becken'd from the rest below, Bowing his head against the sleepy Mount

To climbe his happinesse, would be well exprest In our Condition

Poet. Nay Sir, but heare me on:

All those which were his Fellowes but of late, Some better then his
valew; on the moment Follow his strides, his Lobbies fill with
tendance, Raine Sacrificiall whisperings in his eare, Make Sacred euen
his styrrop, and through him Drinke the free Ayre

Pain. I marry, what of these?

Poet. When Fortune in her shift and change of mood Spurnes downe her
late beloued; all his Dependants Which labour'd after him to the
Mountaines top, Euen on their knees and hand, let him sit downe, Not
one accompanying his declining foot

Pain. Tis common:

A thousand morall Paintings I can shew,

That shall demonstrate these quicke blowes of Fortunes, More pregnantly
then words. Yet you do well, To shew Lord Timon, that meane eyes haue
seene The foot aboue the head.

Trumpets sound.

Enter Lord Timon, addressing himselfe curteously to euery Sutor.

Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you?

Mes. I my good Lord, fiue Talents is his debt, His meanes most short,
his Creditors most straite: Your Honourable Letter he desires

To those haue shut him vp, which failing, Periods his comfort

Tim. Noble Ventidius, well:

I am not of that Feather, to shake off

My Friend when he must neede me. I do know him A Gentleman, that well
deserues a helpe,

Which he shall haue. Ile pay the debt, and free him

Mes. Your Lordship euer bindes him

Tim. Commend me to him, I will send his ransome, And being
enfranchized bid him come to me; 'Tis not enough to helpe the Feeble
vp,

But to support him after. Fare you well

Mes. All happinesse to your Honor.

Enter.

Enter an old Athenian.

Oldm. Lord Timon, heare me speake

Tim. Freely good Father

Oldm. Thou hast a Seruant nam'd Lucilius

Tim. I haue so: What of him?

Oldm. Most Noble Timon, call the man before thee

Tim. Attends he heere, or no? Lucillius

Luc. Heere at your Lordships seruice

Oldm. This Fellow heere, L[ord]. Timon, this thy Creature, By night
frequents my house. I am a man

That from my first haue beene inclin'd to thrift, And my estate
deserues an Heyre more rais'd, Then one which holds a Trencher

Tim. Well: what further?

Old. One onely Daughter haue I, no Kin else, On whom I may conferre
what I haue got:

The Maid is faire, a'th' youngest for a Bride, And I haue bred her at
my deerest cost

In Qualities of the best. This man of thine Attempts her loue: I
prythee (Noble Lord) Ioyne with me to forbid him her resort,

My selfe haue spoke in vaine

Tim. The man is honest

Oldm. Therefore he will be Timon,

His honesty rewards him in it selfe,

It must not beare my Daughter

Tim. Does she loue him?

Oldm. She is yong and apt:

Our owne precedent passions do instruct vs What leuities in youth

Tim. Loue you the Maid?

Luc. I my good Lord, and she accepts of it

Oldm. If in her Marriage my consent be missing, I call the Gods to
witnesse, I will choose Mine heyre from forth the Beggers of the world,
And dispossesse her all

Tim. How shall she be endowed,

If she be mated with an equall Husband?

Oldm. Three Talents on the present; in future, all

Tim. This Gentleman of mine

Hath seru'd me long:

To build his Fortune, I will straine a little, For 'tis a Bond in men.
Giue him thy Daughter, What you bestow, in him Ile counterpoize, And
make him weigh with her

Oldm. Most Noble Lord,

Pawne me to this your Honour, she is his

Tim. My hand to thee,

Mine Honour on my promise

Luc. Humbly I thanke your Lordship, neuer may That state or Fortune
fall into my keeping, Which is not owed to you.

Exit

Poet. Vouchsafe my Labour,

And long liue your Lordship

Tim. I thanke you, you shall heare from me anon: Go not away. What
haue you there, my Friend?   Pain. A peece of Painting, which I do
beseech Your Lordship to accept

Tim. Painting is welcome.

The Painting is almost the Naturall man:

For since Dishonor Traffickes with mans Nature, He is but out-side:
These Pensil'd Figures are Euen such as they giue out. I like your
worke, And you shall finde I like it; Waite attendance Till you heare
further from me

Pain. The Gods preserue ye

Tim. Well fare you Gentleman: giue me your hand. We must needs dine
together: sir your Iewell Hath suffered vnder praise

Iewel. What my Lord, dispraise?

Tim. A meere saciety of Commendations,

If I should pay you for't as 'tis extold, It would vnclew me quite

Iewel. My Lord, 'tis rated

As those which sell would giue: but you well know, Things of like valew
differing in the Owners, Are prized by their Masters. Beleeu't deere
Lord, You mend the Iewell by the wearing it

Tim. Well mock'd.

Enter Apermantus.

Mer. No my good Lord, he speakes y common toong Which all men speake
with him

Tim. Looke who comes heere, will you be chid?   Iewel. Wee'l beare
with your Lordship

Mer. Hee'l spare none

Tim. Good morrow to thee,

Gentle Apermantus

Ape. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow. When thou art
Timons dogge, and these Knaues honest

Tim. Why dost thou call them Knaues, thou know'st them not?

Ape. Are they not Athenians?

Tim. Yes

Ape. Then I repent not

Iew. You know me, Apemantus?

Ape. Thou know'st I do, I call'd thee by thy name

Tim. Thou art proud Apemantus?

Ape. Of nothing so much, as that I am not like Timon   Tim. Whether
art going?

Ape. To knocke out an honest Athenians braines

Tim. That's a deed thou't dye for

Ape. Right, if doing nothing be death by th' Law

Tim. How lik'st thou this picture Apemantus?   Ape. The best, for
the innocence

Tim. Wrought he not well that painted it

Ape. He wrought better that made the Painter, and yet he's but a
filthy peece of worke

Pain. Y'are a Dogge

Ape. Thy Mothers of my generation: what's she, if I be a Dogge?

Tim. Wilt dine with me Apemantus?

Ape. No: I eate not Lords

Tim. And thou should'st, thoud'st anger Ladies

Ape. O they eate Lords;

So they come by great bellies

Tim. That's a lasciuious apprehension

Ape. So, thou apprehend'st it,

Take it for thy labour

Tim. How dost thou like this Iewell, Apemantus?   Ape. Not so well
as plain-dealing, which wil not cast a man a Doit

Tim. What dost thou thinke 'tis worth?   Ape. Not worth my
thinking.

How now Poet?

Poet. How now Philosopher?

Ape. Thou lyest

Poet. Art not one?

Ape. Yes

Poet. Then I lye not

Ape. Art not a Poet?

Poet. Yes

Ape. Then thou lyest:

Looke in thy last worke, where thou hast feign'd him a worthy Fellow

Poet. That's not feign'd, he is so

Ape. Yes he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour. He
that loues to be flattered, is worthy o'th flatterer. Heauens, that I
were a Lord

Tim. What wouldst do then Apemantus?

Ape. E'ne as Apemantus does now, hate a Lord with my heart

Tim. What thy selfe?

Ape. I

Tim. Wherefore?

Ape. That I had no angry wit to be a Lord. Art not thou a Merchant?

Mer. I Apemantus

Ape. Traffick confound thee, if the Gods will not

Mer. If Trafficke do it, the Gods do it

Ape. Traffickes thy God, & thy God confound thee.

Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger.

Tim. What Trumpets that?

Mes. 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty Horse All of Companionship

Tim. Pray entertaine them, giue them guide to vs. You must needs
dine with me: go not you hence Till I haue thankt you: when dinners
done Shew me this peece, I am ioyfull of your sights. Enter Alcibiades
with the rest.

Most welcome Sir

Ape. So, so; their Aches contract, and sterue your supple ioynts:
that there should bee small loue amongest these sweet Knaues, and all
this Curtesie. The straine of mans bred out into Baboon and Monkey

Alc. Sir, you haue sau'd my longing, and I feed Most hungerly on
your sight

Tim. Right welcome Sir:

Ere we depart, wee'l share a bounteous time In different pleasures.

Pray you let vs in.

Exeunt.

Enter two Lords.

1.Lord What time a day is't Apemantus?

Ape. Time to be honest

1 That time serues still

Ape. The most accursed thou that still omitst it

2 Thou art going to Lord Timons Feast

Ape. I, to see meate fill Knaues, and Wine heat fooles

2 Farthee well, farthee well

Ape. Thou art a Foole to bid me farewell twice

2 Why Apemantus?

Ape. Should'st haue kept one to thy selfe, for I meane to giue thee
none

1 Hang thy selfe

Ape. No I will do nothing at thy bidding: Make thy requests to thy
Friend

2 Away vnpeaceable Dogge,

Or Ile spurne thee hence

Ape. I will flye like a dogge, the heeles a'th' Asse

1 Hee's opposite to humanity.

Come shall we in,

And taste Lord Timons bountie: he out-goes The verie heart of
kindnesse

2 He powres it out: Plutus the God of Gold Is but his Steward: no
meede but he repayes Seuen-fold aboue it selfe: No guift to him, But
breeds the giuer a returne: exceeding All vse of quittance

1 The Noblest minde he carries,

That euer gouern'd man

2 Long may he liue in Fortunes. Shall we in? Ile keepe you Company.

Exeunt.

Hoboyes Playing lowd Musicke. A great Banquet seru'd in: and then,
Enter

Lord Timon, the States, the Athenian Lords, Ventigius which Timon
redeem'd

from prison. Then comes dropping after all Apemantus discontentedly
like

himselfe.

Ventig. Most honoured Timon,

It hath pleas'd the Gods to remember my Fathers age, And call him to
long peace:

He is gone happy, and has left me rich:

Then, as in gratefull Vertue I am bound

To your free heart, I do returne those Talents Doubled with thankes and
seruice, from whose helpe I deriu'd libertie

Tim. O by no meanes,

Honest Ventigius: You mistake my loue,

I gaue it freely euer, and ther's none

Can truely say he giues, if he receiues:

If our betters play at that game, we must not dare To imitate them:
faults that are rich are faire

Vint. A Noble spirit

Tim. Nay my Lords, Ceremony was but deuis'd at first To set a glosse
on faint deeds, hollow welcomes, Recanting goodnesse, sorry ere 'tis
showne: But where there is true friendship, there needs none. Pray sit,
more welcome are ye to my Fortunes, Then my Fortunes to me

1.Lord. My Lord, we alwaies haue confest it

Aper. Ho ho, confest it? Handg'd it? Haue you not?   Timo. O
Apermantus, you are welcome

Aper. No: You shall not make me welcome: I come to haue thee thrust
me out of doores

Tim. Fie, th'art a churle, ye'haue got a humour there Does not
become a man, 'tis much too blame: They say my Lords, Ira furor breuis
est,

But yond man is verie angrie.

Go, let him haue a Table by himselfe:

For he does neither affect companie,

Nor is he fit for't indeed

Aper. Let me stay at thine apperill Timon, I come to obserue, I giue
thee warning on't

Tim. I take no heede of thee: Th'art an Athenian, therefore welcome:
I my selfe would haue no power, prythee let my meate make thee silent

Aper. I scorne thy meate, 'twould choake me: for I should nere
flatter thee. Oh you Gods! What a number of men eats Timon, and he sees
'em not? It greeues me to see so many dip there meate in one mans
blood, and all the madnesse is, he cheeres them vp too. I wonder men
dare trust themselues with men. Me thinks they should enuite them
without kniues, Good for there meate, and safer for their liues.
There's much example for't, the fellow that sits next him, now parts
bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a diuided draught: is the
readiest man to kill him. 'Tas beene proued, if I were a huge man I
should feare to drinke at meales, least they should spie my wind-pipes
dangerous noates, great men should drinke with harnesse on their
throates

Tim. My Lord in heart: and let the health go round

2.Lord. Let it flow this way my good Lord

Aper. Flow this way? A braue fellow. He keepes his tides well, those
healths will make thee and thy state looke ill, Timon.

Heere's that which is too weake to be a sinner, Honest water, which
nere left man i'th' mire: This and my food are equals, there's no ods,
Feasts are to proud to giue thanks to the Gods.

Apermantus Grace.

Immortall Gods, I craue no pelfe,

I pray for no man but my selfe,

Graunt I may neuer proue so fond,

To trust man on his Oath or Bond.

Or a Harlot for her weeping,

Or a Dogge that seemes asleeping,

Or a keeper with my freedome,

Or my friends if I should need 'em.

Amen. So fall too't:

Richmen sin, and I eat root.

Much good dich thy good heart, Apermantus   Tim. Captaine,

Alcibiades, your hearts in the field now

Alci. My heart is euer at your seruice, my Lord

Tim. You had rather be at a breakefast of Enemies, then a dinner of
Friends

Alc. So they were bleeding new my Lord, there's no meat like 'em, I
could wish my best friend at such a Feast

Aper. Would all those Flatterers were thine Enemies then, that then
thou might'st kill 'em: & bid me to 'em

1.Lord. Might we but haue that happinesse my Lord, that you would
once vse our hearts, whereby we might expresse some part of our zeales,
we should thinke our selues for euer perfect

Timon. Oh no doubt my good Friends, but the Gods themselues haue
prouided that I shall haue much helpe from you: how had you beene my
Friends else. Why haue you that charitable title from thousands? Did
not you chiefely belong to my heart? I haue told more of you to my
selfe, then you can with modestie speake in your owne behalfe. And thus
farre I confirme you. Oh you Gods (thinke I,) what need we haue any
Friends; if we should nere haue need of 'em? They were the most
needlesse Creatures liuing; should we nere haue vse for 'em? And would
most resemble sweete Instruments hung vp in Cases, that keepes there
sounds to themselues. Why I haue often wisht my selfe poorer, that I
might come neerer to you: we are borne to do benefits. And what better
or properer can we call our owne, then the riches of our Friends? Oh
what a pretious comfort 'tis, to haue so many like Brothers commanding
one anothers Fortunes. Oh ioyes, e'ne made away er't can be borne: mine
eies cannot hold out water me thinks to forget their Faults. I drinke
to you

Aper. Thou weep'st to make them drinke, Timon

2.Lord. Ioy had the like conception in our eies, And at that
instant, like a babe sprung vp

Aper. Ho, ho: I laugh to thinke that babe a bastard

3.Lord. I promise you my Lord you mou'd me much

Aper. Much.

Sound Tucket. Enter the Maskers of Amazons, with Lutes in their hands,

dauncing and playing.

Tim. What meanes that Trumpe? How now?

Enter Seruant.

Ser. Please you my Lord, there are certaine Ladies Most desirous of
admittance

Tim. Ladies? what are their wils?

Ser. There comes with them a fore-runner my Lord, which beares that
office, to signifie their pleasures

Tim. I pray let them be admitted.

Enter Cupid with the Maske of Ladies.

Cup. Haile to thee worthy Timon and to all that of his Bounties
taste: the fiue best Sences acknowledge thee their Patron, and come
freely to gratulate thy plentious bosome.

There tast, touch all, pleas'd from thy Table rise: They onely now come
but to Feast thine eies

Timo. They'r welcome all, let 'em haue kind admittance. Musicke make
their welcome

Luc. You see my Lord, how ample y'are belou'd

Aper. Hoyday,

What a sweepe of vanitie comes this way.

They daunce? They are madwomen,

Like Madnesse is the glory of this life,

As this pompe shewes to a little oyle and roote. We make our selues
Fooles, to disport our selues, And spend our Flatteries, to drinke
those men, Vpon whose Age we voyde it vp agen

With poysonous Spight and Enuy.

Who liues, that's not depraued, or depraues; Who dyes, that beares not
one spurne to their graues Of their Friends guift:

I should feare, those that dance before me now, Would one day stampe
vpon me: 'Tas bene done, Men shut their doores against a setting
Sunne.

The Lords rise from Table, with much adoring of Timon, and to shew
their

loues, each single out an Amazon, and all Dance, men with women, a
loftie

straine or two to the Hoboyes, and cease.

Tim. You haue done our pleasures

Much grace (faire Ladies)

Set a faire fashion on our entertainment, Which was not halfe so
beautifull, and kinde: You haue added worth vntoo't, and luster, And
entertain'd me with mine owne deuice. I am to thanke you for't

1 Lord. My Lord you take vs euen at the best

Aper. Faith for the worst is filthy, and would not hold taking, I
doubt me

Tim. Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you, Please you to
dispose your selues

All La. Most thankfully, my Lord.

Exeunt.

Tim. Flauius

Fla. My Lord

Tim. The little Casket bring me hither

Fla. Yes, my Lord. More Iewels yet?

There is no crossing him in's humor,

Else I should tell him well, yfaith I should; When all's spent, hee'ld
be crost then, and he could: 'Tis pitty Bounty had not eyes behinde,

That man might ne're be wretched for his minde. Enter.

1 Lord. Where be our men?

Ser. Heere my Lord, in readinesse

2 Lord. Our Horses

Tim. O my Friends:

I haue one word to say to you: Looke you, my good L[ord]. I must
intreat you honour me so much,

As to aduance this Iewell, accept it, and weare it, Kinde my Lord

1 Lord. I am so farre already in your guifts

All. So are we all.

Enter a Seruant.

Ser. My Lord, there are certaine Nobles of the Senate newly alighted,
and come to visit you

Tim. They are fairely welcome.

Enter Flauius.

Fla. I beseech your Honor, vouchsafe me a word, it does concerne you
neere

Tim. Neere? why then another time Ile heare thee. I prythee let's be
prouided to shew them entertainment

Fla. I scarse know how.

Enter another Seruant.

Ser. May it please your Honor, Lord Lucius (Out of his free loue)
hath presented to you Foure Milke-white Horses, trapt in Siluer

Tim. I shall accept them fairely: let the Presents Be worthily
entertain'd.

Enter a third Seruant.

How now? What newes?

3.Ser. Please you my Lord, that honourable Gentleman Lord Lucullus,
entreats your companie to morrow, to hunt with him, and ha's sent your
Honour two brace of Grey-hounds

Tim. Ile hunt with him,

And let them be receiu'd, not without faire Reward

Fla. What will this come to?

He commands vs to prouide, and giue great guifts, and all out of an
empty Coffer:

Nor will he know his Purse, or yeeld me this, To shew him what a Begger
his heart is,

Being of no power to make his wishes good. His promises flye so beyond
his state,

That what he speaks is all in debt, he ows for eu'ry word: He is so
kinde, that he now payes interest for't; His Land's put to their
Bookes. Well, would I were Gently put out of Office, before I were
forc'd out: Happier is he that has no friend to feede, Then such that
do e'ne Enemies exceede.

I bleed inwardly for my Lord.

Exit

Tim. You do your selues much wrong,

You bate too much of your owne merits.

Heere my Lord, a trifle of our Loue

2.Lord. With more then common thankes

I will receyue it

3.Lord. O he's the very soule of Bounty

Tim. And now I remember my Lord, you gaue good words the other day
of a Bay Courser I rod on. Tis yours because you lik'd it

1.L. Oh, I beseech you pardon mee, my Lord, in that

Tim. You may take my word my Lord: I know no man can iustly praise,
but what he does affect. I weighe my Friends affection with mine owne:
Ile tell you true, Ile call to you

All Lor. O none so welcome

Tim. I take all, and your seuerall visitations So kinde to heart,
'tis not enough to giue: Me thinkes, I could deale Kingdomes to my
Friends, And nere be wearie. Alcibiades,

Thou art a Soldiour, therefore sildome rich, It comes in Charitie to
thee: for all thy liuing Is mong'st the dead: and all the Lands thou
hast Lye in a pitcht field

Alc. I, defil'd Land, my Lord

1.Lord. We are so vertuously bound

Tim. And so am I to you

2.Lord. So infinitely endeer'd

Tim. All to you. Lights, more Lights

1.Lord. The best of Happines, Honor, and Fortunes Keepe with you
Lord Timon

Tim. Ready for his Friends.

Exeunt. Lords

Aper. What a coiles heere, seruing of beckes, and iutting out of
bummes. I doubt whether their Legges be worth the summes that are giuen
for 'em.

Friendships full of dregges,

Me thinkes false hearts, should neuer haue sound legges. Thus honest
Fooles lay out their wealth on Curtsies

Tim. Now Apermantus (if thou wert not sullen) I would be good to
thee

Aper. No, Ile nothing; for if I should be brib'd too, there would be
none left to raile vpon thee, and then thou wouldst sinne the faster.
Thou giu'st so long Timon (I feare me) thou wilt giue away thy selfe in
paper shortly. What needs these Feasts, pompes, and Vaine-glories? Tim.
Nay, and you begin to raile on Societie once, I am sworne not to giue
regard to you. Farewell, & come with better Musicke.

Exit

Aper. So: Thou wilt not heare mee now, thou shalt not then. Ile locke
thy heauen from thee: Oh that mens eares should be

To Counsell deafe, but not to Flatterie.

Exit

Enter a Senator.

Sen. And late fiue thousand: to Varro and to Isidore He owes nine
thousand, besides my former summe, Which makes it fiue and twenty.
Still in motion Of raging waste? It cannot hold, it will not. If I want
Gold, steale but a beggers Dogge, And giue it Timon, why the Dogge
coines Gold. If I would sell my Horse, and buy twenty moe Better then
he; why giue my Horse to Timon. Aske nothing, giue it him, it Foles me
straight And able Horses: No Porter at his gate,

But rather one that smiles, and still inuites All that passe by. It
cannot hold, no reason Can sound his state in safety. Caphis hoa,
Caphis I say.

Enter Caphis.

Ca. Heere sir, what is your pleasure

Sen. Get on your cloake, & hast you to Lord Timon, Importune him for
my Moneyes, be not ceast With slight deniall; nor then silenc'd, when
Commend me to your Master, and the Cap

Playes in the right hand, thus: but tell him, My Vses cry to me; I must
serue my turne

Out of mine owne, his dayes and times are past, And my reliances on his
fracted dates

Haue smit my credit. I loue, and honour him, But must not breake my
backe, to heale his finger. Immediate are my needs, and my releefe

Must not be tost and turn'd to me in words, But finde supply immediate.
Get you gone, Put on a most importunate aspect,

A visage of demand: for I do feare

When euery Feather stickes in his owne wing, Lord Timon will be left a
naked gull,

Which flashes now a Phoenix, get you gone

Ca. I go sir

Sen. I go sir?

Take the Bonds along with you,

And haue the dates in. Come

Ca. I will Sir

Sen. Go.

Exeunt.

Enter Steward, with many billes in his hand.

Stew. No care, no stop, so senselesse of expence, That he will
neither know how to maintaine it, Nor cease his flow of Riot. Takes no
accompt How things go from him, nor resume no care Of what is to
continue: neuer minde,

Was to be so vnwise, to be so kinde.

What shall be done, he will not heare, till feele: I must be round with
him, now he comes from hunting. Fye, fie, fie, fie.

Enter Caphis, Isidore, and Varro.

Cap. Good euen Varro: what, you come for money?   Var. Is't not your
businesse too?

Cap. It is, and yours too, Isidore?

Isid. It is so

Cap. Would we were all discharg'd

Var. I feare it,

Cap. Heere comes the Lord.

Enter Timon, and his Traine

Tim. So soone as dinners done, wee'l forth againe My Alcibiades.
With me, what is your will?   Cap. My Lord, heere is a note of certaine
dues

Tim. Dues? whence are you?

Cap. Of Athens heere, my Lord

Tim. Go to my Steward

Cap. Please it your Lordship, he hath put me off To the succession
of new dayes this moneth: My Master is awak'd by great Occasion,

To call vpon his owne, and humbly prayes you, That with your other
Noble parts, you'l suite, In giuing him his right

Tim. Mine honest Friend,

I prythee but repaire to me next morning

Cap. Nay, good my Lord

Tim. Containe thy selfe, good Friend

Var. One Varroes seruant, my good Lord

Isid. From Isidore, he humbly prayes your speedy payment

Cap. If you did know my Lord, my Masters wants

Var. 'Twas due on forfeyture my Lord, sixe weekes, and past

Isi. Your Steward puts me off my Lord, and I Am sent expressely to
your Lordship

Tim. Giue me breath:

I do beseech you good my Lords keepe on,

Ile waite vpon you instantly. Come hither: pray you How goes the world,
that I am thus encountred With clamorous demands of debt, broken Bonds,
And the detention of long since due debts Against my Honor?

Stew. Please you Gentlemen,

The time is vnagreeable to this businesse: Your importunacie cease,
till after dinner, That I may make his Lordship vnderstand

Wherefore you are not paid

Tim. Do so my Friends, see them well entertain'd

Stew. Pray draw neere.

Enter.

Enter Apemantus and Foole.

Caph. Stay, stay, here comes the Foole with Apemantus, let's ha some
sport with 'em

Var. Hang him, hee'l abuse vs

Isid. A plague vpon him dogge

Var. How dost Foole?

Ape. Dost Dialogue with thy shadow?

Var. I speake not to thee

Ape. No 'tis to thy selfe. Come away

Isi. There's the Foole hangs on your backe already

Ape. No thou stand'st single, th'art not on him yet

Cap. Where's the Foole now?

Ape. He last ask'd the question. Poore Rogues, and Vsurers men, Bauds
betweene Gold and want

Al. What are we Apemantus?

Ape. Asses

All. Why?

Ape. That you ask me what you are, & do not know your selues. Speake
to 'em Foole

Foole. How do you Gentlemen?

All. Gramercies good Foole:

How does your Mistris?

Foole. She's e'ne setting on water to scal'd such Chickens as you
are. Would we could see you at Corinth

Ape. Good, Gramercy.

Enter Page.

Foole. Looke you, heere comes my Masters Page

Page. Why how now Captaine? what do you in this wise Company.

How dost thou Apermantus?

Ape. Would I had a Rod in my mouth, that I might answer thee
profitably

Boy. Prythee Apemantus reade me the superscription of these Letters,
I know not which is which

Ape. Canst not read?

Page. No

Ape. There will litle Learning dye then that day thou art hang'd.
This is to Lord Timon, this to Alcibiades. Go thou was't borne a
Bastard, and thou't dye a Bawd

Page. Thou was't whelpt a Dogge, and thou shalt famish a Dogges
death.

Answer not, I am gone.

Exit

Ape. E'ne so thou out-runst Grace,

Foole I will go with you to Lord Timons

Foole. Will you leaue me there?

Ape. If Timon stay at home.

You three serue three Vsurers?

All. I would they seru'd vs

Ape. So would I:

As good a tricke as euer Hangman seru'd Theefe

Foole. Are you three Vsurers men?

All. I Foole

Foole. I thinke no Vsurer, but ha's a Foole to his Seruant. My
Mistris is one, and I am her Foole: when men come to borrow of your
Masters, they approach sadly, and go away merry: but they enter my
Masters house merrily, and go away sadly. The reason of this?   Var. I
could render one

Ap. Do it then, that we may account thee a Whoremaster, and a Knaue,
which notwithstanding thou shalt be no lesse esteemed

Varro. What is a Whoremaster Foole?

Foole. A Foole in good cloathes, and something like thee. 'Tis a
spirit, sometime t' appeares like a Lord, somtime like a Lawyer,
sometime like a Philosopher, with two stones moe then's artificiall
one. Hee is verie often like a Knight; and generally, in all shapes
that man goes vp and downe in, from fourescore to thirteen, this spirit
walkes in

Var. Thou art not altogether a Foole

Foole. Nor thou altogether a Wise man, As much foolerie as I haue,
so much wit thou lack'st

Ape. That answer might haue become Apemantus

All. Aside, aside, heere comes Lord Timon. Enter Timon and Steward.

Ape. Come with me (Foole) come

Foole. I do not alwayes follow Louer, elder Brother, and Woman,
sometime the Philosopher

Stew. Pray you walke neere,

Ile speake with you anon.

Exeunt.

Tim. You make me meruell wherefore ere this time Had you not fully
laide my state before me, That I might so haue rated my expence

As I had leaue of meanes

Stew. You would not heare me:

At many leysures I propose

Tim. Go too:

Perchance some single vantages you tooke, When my indisposition put you
backe,

And that vnaptnesse made your minister

Thus to excuse your selfe

Stew. O my good Lord,

At many times I brought in my accompts,

Laid them before you, you would throw them off, And say you sound them
in mine honestie,

When for some trifling present you haue bid me Returne so much, I haue
shooke my head, and wept: Yea 'gainst th' Authoritie of manners, pray'd
you To hold your hand more close: I did indure Not sildome, nor no
slight checkes, when I haue Prompted you in the ebbe of your estate,

And your great flow of debts; my lou'd Lord, Though you heare now (too
late) yet nowes a time, The greatest of your hauing, lackes a halfe, To
pay your present debts

Tim. Let all my Land be sold

Stew. 'Tis all engag'd, some forfeyted and gone, And what remaines
will hardly stop the mouth Of present dues; the future comes apace:

What shall defend the interim, and at length How goes our reck'ning?

Tim. To Lacedemon did my Land extend

Stew. O my good Lord, the world is but a word, Were it all yours, to
giue it in a breath, How quickely were it gone

Tim. You tell me true

Stew. If you suspect my Husbandry or Falshood, Call me before th'
exactest Auditors,

And set me on the proofe. So the Gods blesse me, When all our Offices
haue beene opprest

With riotous Feeders, when our Vaults haue wept With drunken spilth of
Wine; when euery roome Hath blaz'd with Lights, and braid with
Minstrelsie, I haue retyr'd me to a wastefull cocke,

And set mine eyes at flow

Tim. Prythee no more

Stew. Heauens, haue I said, the bounty of this Lord: How many
prodigall bits haue Slaues and Pezants This night englutted: who is not
Timons,

What heart, head, sword, force, meanes, but is L[ord]. Timons: Great
Timon, Noble, Worthy, Royall Timon: Ah, when the meanes are gone, that
buy this praise, The breath is gone, whereof this praise is made: Feast
won, fast lost; one cloud of Winter showres, These flyes are coucht

Tim. Come sermon me no further.

No villanous bounty yet hath past my heart; Vnwisely, not ignobly haue
I giuen.

Why dost thou weepe, canst thou the conscience lacke, To thinke I shall
lacke friends: secure thy heart, If I would broach the vessels of my
loue, And try the argument of hearts, by borrowing, Men, and mens
fortunes could I frankely vse As I can bid thee speake

Ste. Assurance blesse your thoughts

Tim. And in some sort these wants of mine are crown'd, That I
account them blessings. For by these Shall I trie Friends. You shall
perceiue

How you mistake my Fortunes:

I am wealthie in my Friends.

Within there, Flauius, Seruilius?

Enter three Seruants.

Ser. My Lord, my Lord

Tim. I will dispatch you seuerally.

You to Lord Lucius, to Lord Lucullus you, I hunted with his Honor to
day; you to Sempronius; commend me to their loues; and I am proud say,
that my occasions haue found time to vse 'em toward a supply of mony:
let the request be fifty Talents

Flam. As you haue said, my Lord

Stew. Lord Lucius and Lucullus? Humh

Tim. Go you sir to the Senators;

Of whom, euen to the States best health; I haue Deseru'd this Hearing:
bid 'em send o'th' instant A thousand Talents to me

Ste. I haue beene bold

(For that I knew it the most generall way) To them, to vse your Signet,
and your Name, But they do shake their heads, and I am heere No richer
in returne

Tim. Is't true? Can't be?

Stew. They answer in a ioynt and corporate voice, That now they are
at fall, want Treasure cannot Do what they would, are sorrie: you are
Honourable, But yet they could haue wisht, they know not, Something
hath beene amisse; a Noble Nature May catch a wrench; would all were
well; tis pitty, And so intending other serious matters,

After distastefull lookes; and these hard Fractions With certaine
halfe-caps, and cold mouing nods, They froze me into Silence

Tim. You Gods reward them:

Prythee man looke cheerely. These old Fellowes Haue their ingratitude
in them Hereditary: Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it sildome flowes,
'Tis lacke of kindely warmth, they are not kinde; And Nature, as it
growes againe toward earth, Is fashion'd for the iourney, dull and
heauy. Go to Ventiddius (prythee be not sad,

Thou art true, and honest; Ingeniously I speake, No blame belongs to
thee:) Ventiddius lately Buried his Father, by whose death hee's
stepp'd Into a great estate: When he was poore,

Imprison'd, and in scarsitie of Friends,

I cleer'd him with fiue Talents: Greet him from me, Bid him suppose,
some good necessity

Touches his Friend, which craues to be remembred With those fiue
Talents; that had, giue't these Fellowes To whom 'tis instant due.
Neu'r speake, or thinke, That Timons fortunes 'mong his Friends can
sinke

Stew. I would I could not thinke it:

That thought is Bounties Foe;

Being free it selfe, it thinkes all others so.

Exeunt.

Flaminius waiting to speake with a Lord from his Master, enters a
seruant

to him.

Ser. I haue told my Lord of you, he is comming down to you

Flam. I thanke you Sir.

Enter Lucullus.

Ser. Heere's my Lord

Luc. One of Lord Timons men? A Guift I warrant. Why this hits right:
I dreampt of a Siluer Bason & Ewre to night. Flaminius, honest
Flaminius, you are verie respectiuely welcome sir. Fill me some Wine.
And how

does that Honourable, Compleate, Free-hearted Gentleman of Athens, thy
very bountifull good Lord and Mayster?   Flam. His health is well sir

Luc. I am right glad that his health is well sir: and what hast thou
there vnder thy Cloake, pretty Flaminius?   Flam. Faith, nothing but an
empty box Sir, which in my Lords behalfe, I come to intreat your Honor
to supply: who hauing great and instant occasion to vse fiftie Talents,
hath sent to your Lordship to furnish him: nothing doubting your
present assistance therein

Luc. La, la, la, la: Nothing doubting sayes hee? Alas good Lord, a
Noble Gentleman 'tis, if he would not keep so good a house. Many a time
and often I ha din'd with him, and told him on't, and come againe to
supper to him of purpose, to haue him spend lesse, and yet he wold
embrace no counsell, take no warning by my comming, euery man has his
fault, and honesty is his. I ha told him on't, but I could nere get him
from't.

Enter Seruant with Wine.

Ser. Please your Lordship, heere is the Wine

Luc. Flaminius, I haue noted thee alwayes wise. Heere's to thee

Flam. Your Lordship speakes your pleasure

Luc. I haue obserued thee alwayes for a towardlie prompt spirit,
giue thee thy due, and one that knowes what belongs to reason; and
canst vse the time wel, if the time vse thee well. Good parts in thee;
get you gone sirrah. Draw neerer honest Flaminius. Thy Lords a
bountifull Gentleman, but thou art wise, and thou know'st well enough
(although thou com'st to me) that this is no time to lend money,
especially vpon bare friendshippe without securitie. Here's three
Solidares for thee, good Boy winke at me, and say thou saw'st mee not.
Fare thee well

Flam. Is't possible the world should so much differ, And we aliue
that liued? Fly damned basenesse To him that worships thee

Luc. Ha? Now I see thou art a Foole, and fit for thy Master.

Exit L[ucullus].

Flam. May these adde to the number y may scald thee: Let moulten
Coine be thy damnation,

Thou disease of a friend, and not himselfe: Has friendship such a faint
and milkie heart, It turnes in lesse then two nights? O you Gods! I
feele my Masters passion. This Slaue vnto his Honor, Has my Lords meate
in him:

Why should it thriue, and turne to Nutriment, When he is turn'd to
poyson?

O may Diseases onely worke vpon't:

And when he's sicke to death, let not that part of Nature Which my Lord
payd for, be of any power

To expell sicknesse, but prolong his hower. Enter.

Enter Lucius, with three strangers.

Luc. Who the Lord Timon? He is my very good friend and an Honourable
Gentleman

1 We know him for no lesse, thogh we are but strangers to him. But I
can tell you one thing my Lord, and which I heare from common rumours,
now Lord Timons happie howres are done and past, and his estate
shrinkes from him

Lucius. Fye no, doe not beleeue it: hee cannot want for money

2 But beleeue you this my Lord, that not long agoe, one of his men
was with the Lord Lucullus, to borrow so many Talents, nay vrg'd
extreamly for't, and shewed what necessity belong'd too't, and yet was
deny'de

Luci. How?

2 I tell you, deny'de my Lord

Luci. What a strange case was that? Now before the Gods I am asham'd
on't. Denied that honourable man? There was verie little Honour shew'd
in't. For my owne part, I must needes confesse, I haue receyued some
small kindnesses from him, as Money, Plate, Iewels, and such like
Trifles; nothing comparing to his: yet had hee mistooke him, and sent
to me, I should ne're haue denied his Occasion so many Talents.

Enter Seruilius.

Seruil. See, by good hap yonders my Lord, I haue swet to see his
Honor. My Honor'd Lord

Lucil. Seruilius? You are kindely met sir. Farthewell, commend me to
thy Honourable vertuous Lord, my very exquisite Friend

Seruil. May it please your Honour, my Lord hath sent-

Luci. Ha? what ha's he sent? I am so much endeered to that Lord;
hee's euer sending: how shall I thank him think'st thou? And what has
he sent now?

Seruil. Has onely sent his present Occasion now my Lord: requesting
your Lordship to supply his instant vse with so many Talents

Lucil. I know his Lordship is but merry with me, He cannot want
fifty fiue hundred Talents

Seruil. But in the mean time he wants lesse my Lord. If his occasion
were not vertuous,

I should not vrge it halfe so faithfully

Luc. Dost thou speake seriously Seruilius?   Seruil. Vpon my soule
'tis true Sir

Luci. What a wicked Beast was I to disfurnish my self against such a
good time, when I might ha shewn my selfe Honourable? How vnluckily it
hapned, that I shold Purchase the day before for a little part, and
vndo a great deale of Honour? Seruilius, now before the Gods I am not
able to do (the more beast I say) I was sending to vse Lord Timon my
selfe, these Gentlemen can witnesse; 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 Honor will conceiue the fairest of mee, because I haue
no power to be kinde. And tell him this from me, I count it one of my
greatest afflictions say, that I cannot pleasure such an Honourable
Gentleman. Good Seruilius, will you befriend mee so farre, as to vse
mine owne words to him?

Ser. Yes sir, I shall.

Exit Seruil[ius].

Lucil. Ile looke you out a good turne Seruilius. True as you said,
Timon is shrunke indeede, And he that's once deny'de, will hardly
speede. Enter.

1 Do you obserue this Hostilius?

2 I, to well

1 Why this is the worlds soule,

And iust of the same peece

Is euery Flatterers sport: who can call him his Friend That dips in the
same dish? For in my knowing Timon has bin this Lords Father,

And kept his credit with his purse:

Supported his estate, nay Timons money

Has paid his men their wages. He ne're drinkes, But Timons Siluer
treads vpon his Lip,

And yet, oh see the monstrousnesse of man, When he lookes out in an
vngratefull shape; He does deny him (in respect of his)

What charitable men affoord to Beggers

3 Religion grones at it

1 For mine owne part, I neuer tasted Timon in my life Nor came any
of his bounties ouer me,

To marke me for his Friend. Yet I protest, For his right Noble minde,
illustrious Vertue, And Honourable Carriage,

Had his necessity made vse of me,

I would haue put my wealth into Donation, And the best halfe should
haue return'd to him, So much I loue his heart: But I perceiue, Men
must learne now with pitty to dispence, For Policy sits aboue
Conscience.

Exeunt.

Enter a third seruant with Sempronius, another of Timons Friends.

Semp. Must he needs trouble me in't? Hum. 'Boue all others?

He might haue tried Lord Lucius, or Lucullus, And now Ventidgius is
wealthy too,

Whom he redeem'd from prison. All these

Owes their estates vnto him

Ser. My Lord,

They haue all bin touch'd, and found Base-Mettle, For they haue all
denied him

Semp. How? Haue they deny'de him?

Has Ventidgius and Lucullus deny'de him,

And does he send to me? Three? Humh?

It shewes but little loue, or iudgement in him. Must I be his last
Refuge? His Friends (like Physitians) Thriue, giue him ouer: Must I
take th' Cure vpon me? Has much disgrac'd me in't, I'me angry at him,
That might haue knowne my place. I see no sense for't, But his
Occasions might haue wooed me first: For in my conscience, I was the
first man That ere receiued guift from him.

And does he thinke so backwardly of me now, That Ile requite it last?
No:

So it may proue an Argument of Laughter

To th' rest, and 'mong'st Lords be thought a Foole: I'de rather then
the worth of thrice the summe, Had sent to me first, but for my mindes
sake: I'de such a courage to do him good. But now returne, And with
their faint reply, this answer ioyne; Who bates mine Honor, shall not
know my Coyne.

Exit

Ser. Excellent: Your Lordships a goodly Villain: the diuell knew not
what he did, when hee made man Politicke; he crossed himselfe by't: and
I cannot thinke, but in the end, the Villanies of man will set him
cleere. How fairely this Lord striues to appeare foule? Takes Vertuous
Copies to be wicked: like those, that vnder hotte ardent zeale, would
set whole Realmes on fire, of such a nature is his politike loue.

This was my Lords best hope, now all are fled Saue onely the Gods. Now
his Friends are dead, Doores that were ne're acquainted with their
Wards Many a bounteous yeere, must be imploy'd

Now to guard sure their Master:

And this is all a liberall course allowes, Who cannot keepe his wealth,
must keep his house. Enter.

Enter Varro's man, meeting others. All Timons Creditors to wait for
his

comming out. Then enter Lucius and Hortensius.

Var.man. Well met, goodmorrow Titus & Hortensius   Tit. The like to
you kinde Varro

Hort. Lucius, what do we meet together?   Luci. I, and I think one
businesse do's command vs all. For mine is money

Tit. So is theirs, and ours.

Enter Philotus.

Luci. And sir Philotus too

Phil. Good day at once

Luci. Welcome good Brother.

What do you thinke the houre?

Phil. Labouring for Nine

Luci. So much?

Phil. Is not my Lord seene yet?

Luci. Not yet

Phil. I wonder on't, he was wont to shine at seauen

Luci. I, but the dayes are waxt shorter with him: You must consider,
that a Prodigall course Is like the Sunnes, but not like his
recouerable, I feare: 'Tis deepest Winter in Lord Timons purse, that
is: One may reach deepe enough, and yet finde little

Phil. I am of your feare, for that

Tit. Ile shew you how t' obserue a strange euent: Your Lord sends
now for Money?

Hort. Most true, he doe's

Tit. And he weares Iewels now of Timons guift, For which I waite for
money

Hort. It is against my heart

Luci. Marke how strange it showes,

Timon in this, should pay more then he owes: And e'ne as if your Lord
should weare rich Iewels, And send for money for 'em

Hort. I'me weary of this Charge,

The Gods can witnesse:

I know my Lord hath spent of Timons wealth, And now Ingratitude, makes
it worse then stealth

Varro. Yes, mine's three thousand Crownes: What's yours?

Luci. Fiue thousand mine

Varro. 'Tis much deepe, and it should seem by th' sum Your Masters
confidence was aboue mine,

Else surely his had equall'd.

Enter Flaminius.

Tit. One of Lord Timons men

Luc. Flaminius? Sir, a word: Pray is my Lord readie to come forth?

Flam. No, indeed he is not

Tit. We attend his Lordship: pray signifie so much

Flam. I need not tell him that, he knowes you are too diligent.
Enter Steward in a Cloake, muffled.

Luci. Ha: is not that his Steward muffled so? He goes away in a
Clowd: Call him, call him

Tit. Do you heare, sir?

2.Varro. By your leaue, sir

Stew. What do ye aske of me, my Friend

Tit. We waite for certaine Money heere, sir

Stew. I, if Money were as certaine as your waiting, 'Twere sure
enough.

Why then preferr'd you not your summes and Billes When your false
Masters eate of my Lords meat? Then they could smile, and fawne vpon
his debts. And take downe th' Intrest into their glutt'nous Mawes. You
do your selues but wrong, to stirre me vp, Let me passe quietly:

Beleeue't, my Lord and I haue made an end, I haue no more to reckon, he
to spend

Luci. I, but this answer will not serue

Stew. If't 'twill not serue, 'tis not so base as you, For you serue
Knaues

1.Varro. How? What does his casheer'd Worship mutter?

2.Varro. No matter what, hee's poore, and that's reuenge enough. Who
can speake broader, then hee that has no house to put his head in? Such
may rayle against great buildings.

Enter Seruilius.

Tit. Oh heere's Seruilius: now wee shall know some answere

Seru. If I might beseech you Gentlemen, to repayre some other houre,
I should deriue much from't. For tak't of my soule, my Lord leanes
wondrously to discontent: His comfortable temper has forsooke him, he's
much out of health, and keepes his Chamber

Luci. Many do keepe their Chambers, are not sicke: And if it be so
farre beyond his health,

Me thinkes he should the sooner pay his debts, And make a cleere way to
the Gods

Seruil. Good Gods

Titus. We cannot take this for answer, sir

Flaminius within. Seruilius helpe, my Lord, my Lord. Enter Timon in
a rage.

Tim. What, are my dores oppos'd against my passage? Haue I bin euer
free, and must my house

Be my retentiue Enemy? My Gaole?

The place which I haue Feasted, does it now (Like all Mankinde) shew me
an Iron heart?   Luci. Put in now Titus

Tit. My Lord, heere is my Bill

Luci. Here's mine

1.Var. And mine, my Lord

2.Var. And ours, my Lord

Philo. All our Billes

Tim. Knocke me downe with 'em, cleaue mee to the Girdle

Luc. Alas, my Lord

Tim. Cut my heart in summes

Tit. Mine, fifty Talents

Tim. Tell out my blood

Luc. Fiue thousand Crownes, my Lord

Tim. Fiue thousand drops payes that.

What yours? and yours?

1.Var. My Lord

2.Var. My Lord

Tim. Teare me, take me, and the Gods fall vpon you.

Exit Timon.

Hort. Faith I perceiue our Masters may throwe their caps at their
money, these debts may well be call'd desperate ones, for a madman owes
'em.

Exeunt.

Enter Timon.

Timon. They haue e'ene put my breath from mee the slaues. Creditors?
Diuels

Stew. My deere Lord

Tim. What if it should be so?

Stew. My Lord

Tim. Ile haue it so. My Steward?

Stew. Heere my Lord

Tim. So fitly? Go, bid all my Friends againe, Lucius, Lucullus, and
Sempronius Vllorxa: All, Ile once more feast the Rascals

Stew. O my Lord, you onely speake from your distracted soule;
there's not so much left to furnish out a moderate Table

Tim. Be it not in thy care:

Go I charge thee, inuite them all, let in the tide Of Knaues once more:
my Cooke and Ile prouide.

Exeunt.

Enter three Senators at one doore, Alcibiades meeting them, with
Attendants

1.Sen. My Lord, you haue my voyce, too't, The faults Bloody:

'Tis necessary he should dye:

Nothing imboldens sinne so much, as Mercy

2 Most true; the Law shall bruise 'em

Alc. Honor, health, and compassion to the Senate

1 Now Captaine

Alc. I am an humble Sutor to your Vertues; For pitty is the vertue
of the Law,

And none but Tyrants vse it cruelly.

It pleases time and Fortune to lye heauie Vpon a Friend of mine, who in
hot blood

Hath stept into the Law: which is past depth To those that (without
heede) do plundge intoo't. He is a Man (setting his Fate aside) of
comely Vertues, Nor did he soyle the fact with Cowardice. (And Honour
in him, which buyes out his fault) But with a Noble Fury, and faire
spirit,

Seeing his Reputation touch'd to death,

He did oppose his Foe:

And with such sober and vnnoted passion

He did behooue his anger ere 'twas spent, As if he had but prou'd an
Argument

1.Sen. You vndergo too strict a Paradox, Striuing to make an vgly
deed looke faire: Your words haue tooke such paines, as if they
labour'd To bring Man-slaughter into forme, and set Quarrelling Vpon
the head of Valour; which indeede

Is Valour mis-begot, and came into the world, When Sects, and Factions
were newly borne. Hee's truly Valiant, that can wisely suffer The worst
that man can breath,

And make his Wrongs, his Out-sides,

To weare them like his Rayment, carelessely, And ne're preferre his
iniuries to his heart, To bring it into danger.

If Wrongs be euilles, and inforce vs kill, What Folly 'tis, to hazard
life for Ill

Alci. My Lord

1.Sen. You cannot make grosse sinnes looke cleare, To reuenge is no
Valour, but to beare

Alci. My Lords, then vnder fauour, pardon me, If I speake like a
Captaine.

Why do fond men expose themselues to Battell, And not endure all
threats? Sleepe vpon't, And let the Foes quietly cut their Throats
Without repugnancy? If there be

Such Valour in the bearing, what make wee Abroad? Why then, Women are
more valiant

That stay at home, if Bearing carry it:

And the Asse, more Captaine then the Lyon? The fellow loaden with
Irons, wiser then the Iudge? If Wisedome be in suffering. Oh my Lords,
As you are great, be pittifully Good,

Who cannot condemne rashnesse in cold blood? To kill, I grant, is
sinnes extreamest Gust, But in defence, by Mercy, 'tis most iust. To be
in Anger, is impietie:

But who is Man, that is not Angrie.

Weigh but the Crime with this

2.Sen. You breath in vaine

Alci. In vaine?

His seruice done at Lacedemon, and Bizantium, Were a sufficient briber
for his life

1 What's that?

Alc. Why say my Lords ha's done faire seruice, And slaine in fight
many of your enemies: How full of valour did he beare himselfe

In the last Conflict, and made plenteous wounds?   2 He has made too
much plenty with him: He's a sworne Riotor, he has a sinne

That often drownes him, and takes his valour prisoner. If there were no
Foes, that were enough

To ouercome him. In that Beastly furie,

He has bin knowne to commit outrages,

And cherrish Factions. 'Tis inferr'd to vs, His dayes are foule, and
his drinke dangerous

1 He dyes

Alci. Hard fate: he might haue dyed in warre. My Lords, if not for
any parts in him,

Though his right arme might purchase his owne time, And be in debt to
none: yet more to moue you, Take my deserts to his, and ioyne 'em both.
And for I know, your reuerend Ages loue Security, Ile pawne my
Victories, all my Honour to you Vpon his good returnes.

If by this Crime, he owes the Law his life, Why let the Warre receiue't
in valiant gore, For Law is strict, and Warre is nothing more

1 We are for Law, he dyes, vrge it no more On height of our
displeasure: Friend, or Brother, He forfeits his owne blood, that
spilles another

Alc. Must it be so? It must not bee:

My Lords, I do beseech you know mee

2 How?

Alc. Call me to your remembrances

3 What

Alc. I cannot thinke but your Age has forgot me, It could not else
be, I should proue so bace, To sue and be deny'de such common Grace.

My wounds ake at you

1 Do you dare our anger?

'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect: We banish thee for euer

Alc. Banish me?

Banish your dotage, banish vsurie,

That makes the Senate vgly

1 If after two dayes shine, Athens containe thee, Attend our
waightier Iudgement.

And not to swell our Spirit,

He shall be executed presently.

Exeunt.

Alc. Now the Gods keepe you old enough, That you may liue

Onely in bone, that none may looke on you. I'm worse then mad: I haue
kept backe their Foes While they haue told their Money, and let out
Their Coine vpon large interest. I my selfe, Rich onely in large hurts.
All those, for this? Is this the Balsome, that the vsuring Senat Powres
into Captaines wounds? Banishment. It comes not ill: I hate not to be
banisht, It is a cause worthy my Spleene and Furie, That I may strike
at Athens. Ile cheere vp My discontented Troopes, and lay for hearts;
'Tis Honour with most Lands to be at ods, Souldiers should brooke as
little wrongs as Gods. Enter.

Enter diuers Friends at seuerall doores.

1 The good time of day to you, sir

2 I also wish it to you: I thinke this Honorable Lord did but try vs
this other day

1 Vpon that were my thoughts tyring when wee encountred. I hope it
is not so low with him as he made it seeme in the triall of his
seuerall Friends

2 It should not be, by the perswasion of his new Feasting

1 I should thinke so. He hath sent mee an earnest inuiting, which
many my neere occasions did vrge mee to put off: but he hath coniur'd
mee beyond them, and I must needs appeare

2 In like manner was I in debt to my importunat businesse, but he
would not heare my excuse. I am sorrie, when he sent to borrow of mee,
that my Prouision was out

1 I am sicke of that greefe too, as I vnderstand how all things go

2 Euery man heares so: what would hee haue borrowed of you?

1 A thousand Peeces

2 A thousand Peeces?

1 What of you?

2 He sent to me sir- Heere he comes.

Enter Timon and Attendants.

Tim. With all my heart Gentlemen both; and how fare you?

1 Euer at the best, hearing well of your Lordship

2 The Swallow followes not Summer more willing, then we your
Lordship

Tim. Nor more willingly leaues Winter, such Summer Birds are men.
Gentlemen, our dinner will not recompence this long stay: Feast your
eares with the Musicke awhile: If they will fare so harshly o'th'
Trumpets sound: we shall too't presently

1 I hope it remaines not vnkindely with your Lordship, that I
return'd you an empty Messenger

Tim. O sir, let it not trouble you

2 My Noble Lord

Tim. Ah my good Friend, what cheere?

The Banket brought in.

2 My most Honorable Lord, I am e'ne sick of shame, that when your
Lordship this other day sent to me, I was so vnfortunate a Beggar

Tim. Thinke not on't, sir

2 If you had sent but two houres before

Tim. Let it not cumber your better remembrance. Come bring in all
together

2 All couer'd Dishes

1 Royall Cheare, I warrant you

3 Doubt not that, if money and the season can yeild it   1 How do
you? What's the newes?

3 Alcibiades is banish'd: heare you of it?   Both. Alcibiades
banish'd?

3 'Tis so, be sure of it

1 How? How?

2 I pray you vpon what?

Tim. My worthy Friends, will you draw neere?   3 Ile tell you more
anon. Here's a Noble feast toward   2 This is the old man still

3 Wilt hold? Wilt hold?

2 It do's: but time will, and so

3 I do conceyue

Tim. Each man to his stoole, with that spurre as hee would to the
lip of his Mistris: your dyet shall bee in all places alike. Make not a
Citie Feast of it, to let the meat coole, ere we can agree vpon the
first place. Sit, sit. The Gods require our Thankes.

You great Benefactors, sprinkle our Society with Thankefulnesse. For
your owne guifts, make your selues prais'd: But reserue still to giue,
least your Deities be despised. Lend to each man enough, that one neede
not lend to another. For were your Godheads to borrow of men, men would
forsake the Gods. Make the Meate be beloued, more then the Man that
giues it. Let no Assembly of Twenty, be without a score of Villaines.
If there sit twelue Women at the Table, let a dozen of them bee as they
are. The rest of your Fees, O Gods, the Senators of Athens, together
with the common legge of People, what is amisse in them, you Gods, make
suteable for destruction. For these my present Friends, as they are to
mee nothing, so in nothing blesse them, and to nothing are they
welcome.

Vncouer Dogges, and lap

Some speake. What do's his Lordship meane?   Some other. I know not

Timon. May you a better Feast neuer behold You knot of
Mouth-Friends: Smoke, & lukewarm water Is your perfection. This is
Timons last,

Who stucke and spangled you with Flatteries, Washes it off and
sprinkles in your faces Your reeking villany. Liue loath'd, and long
Most smiling, smooth, detested Parasites, Curteous Destroyers, affable
Wolues, meeke Beares: You Fooles of Fortune, Trencher-friends, Times
Flyes, Cap and knee-Slaues, vapours, and Minute Iackes. Of Man and
Beast, the infinite Maladie

Crust you quite o're. What do'st thou go? Soft, take thy Physicke
first; thou too, and thou: Stay I will lend thee money, borrow none.
What? All in Motion? Henceforth be no Feast, Whereat a Villaine's not a
welcome Guest. Burne house, sinke Athens, henceforth hated be Of Timon
Man, and all Humanity.

Exit

Enter the Senators, with other Lords.

1 How now, my Lords?

2 Know you the quality of Lord Timons fury?   3 Push, did you see my
Cap?

4 I haue lost my Gowne

1 He's but a mad Lord, & nought but humors swaies him. He gaue me a
Iewell th' other day, and now hee has beate it out of my hat.

Did you see my Iewell?

2 Did you see my Cap

3 Heere 'tis

4 Heere lyes my Gowne

1 Let's make no stay

2 Lord Timons mad

3 I feel't vpon my bones

4 One day he giues vs Diamonds, next day stones.

Exeunt. the Senators.

Enter Timon.

Tim. Let me looke backe vpon thee. O thou Wall That girdles in those
Wolues, diue in the earth, And fence not Athens. Matrons, turne
incontinent, Obedience fayle in Children: Slaues and Fooles Plucke the
graue wrinkled Senate from the Bench, And minister in their steeds, to
generall Filthes. Conuert o'th' Instant greene Virginity,

Doo't in your Parents eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast Rather then render
backe; out with your Kniues, And cut your Trusters throates. Bound
Seruants, steale, Large-handed Robbers your graue Masters are, And pill
by Law. Maide, to thy Masters bed, Thy Mistris is o'th' Brothell. Some
of sixteen, Plucke the lyn'd Crutch from thy old limping Sire, With it,
beate out his Braines. Piety, and Feare, Religion to the Gods, Peace,
Iustice, Truth, Domesticke awe, Night-rest, and Neighbourhood,
Instruction, Manners, Mysteries, and Trades, Degrees, Obseruances,
Customes, and Lawes, Decline to your confounding contraries.

And yet Confusion liue: Plagues incident to men, Your potent and
infectious Feauors, heape On Athens ripe for stroke. Thou cold
Sciatica, Cripple our Senators, that their limbes may halt As lamely as
their Manners. Lust, and Libertie Creepe in the Mindes and Marrowes of
our youth, That 'gainst the streame of Vertue they may striue, And
drowne themselues in Riot. Itches, Blaines, So we all th' Athenian
bosomes, and their crop Be generall Leprosie: Breath, infect breath,
That their Society (as their Friendship) may Be meerely poyson. Nothing
Ile beare from thee But nakednesse, thou detestable Towne,

Take thou that too, with multiplying Bannes: Timon will to the Woods,
where he shall finde Th' vnkindest Beast, more kinder then Mankinde.
The Gods confound (heare me you good Gods all) Th' Athenians both
within and out that Wall: And graunt as Timon growes, his hate may grow
To the whole race of Mankinde, high and low. Amen.

Enter.

Enter Steward with two or three Seruants.

1 Heare you M[aster]. Steward, where's our Master? Are we vndone,
cast off, nothing remaining?   Stew. Alack my Fellowes, what should I
say to you? Let me be recorded by the righteous Gods, I am as poore as
you

1 Such a House broke?

So Noble a Master falne, all gone, and not One Friend to take his
Fortune by the arme, And go along with him

2 As we do turne our backes

From our Companion, throwne into his graue, So his Familiars to his
buried Fortunes

Slinke all away, leaue their false vowes with him Like empty purses
pickt; and his poore selfe A dedicated Beggar to the Ayre,

With his disease, of all shunn'd pouerty, Walkes like contempt alone.
More of our Fellowes. Enter other Seruants.

Stew. All broken Implements of a ruin'd house

3 Yet do our hearts weare Timons Liuery, That see I by our Faces: we
are Fellowes still, Seruing alike in sorrow: Leak'd is our Barke, And
we poore Mates, stand on the dying Decke, Hearing the Surges threat: we
must all part Into this Sea of Ayre

Stew. Good Fellowes all,

The latest of my wealth Ile share among'st you. Where euer we shall
meete, for Timons sake, Let's yet be Fellowes. Let's shake our heads,
and say As 'twere a Knell vnto our Masters Fortunes, We haue seene
better dayes. Let each take some: Nay put out all your hands: Not one
word more, Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poore.

Embrace and part seuerall wayes.

Oh the fierce wretchednesse that Glory brings vs! 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 liue But in a Dreame of
Friendship,

To haue his pompe, and all what state compounds, But onely painted like
his varnisht Friends: Poore honest Lord, brought lowe by his owne
heart, Vndone by Goodnesse: Strange vnvsuall blood, When mans worst
sinne is, He do's too much Good. Who then dares to be halfe so kinde
agen? For Bounty that makes Gods, do still marre Men. My deerest Lord,
blest to be most accurst, Rich onely to be wretched; thy great Fortunes
Are made thy cheefe Afflictions. Alas (kinde Lord) Hee's flung in Rage
from this ingratefull Seate Of monstrous Friends:

Nor ha's he with him to supply his life,

Or that which can command it:

Ile follow and enquire him out.

Ile euer serue his minde, with my best will, Whilst I haue Gold, Ile be
his Steward still. Enter.

Enter Timon in the woods.

Tim. O blessed breeding Sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity:
below thy Sisters Orbe

Infect the ayre. Twin'd Brothers of one wombe, Whose procreation,
residence, and birth,

Scarse is diuidant; touch them with seuerall fortunes, The greater
scornes the lesser. Not Nature (To whom all sores lay siege) can beare
great Fortune But by contempt of Nature.

Raise me this Begger, and deny't that Lord, The Senators shall beare
contempt Hereditary, The Begger Natiue Honor.

It is the Pastour Lards, the Brothers sides, The want that makes him
leaue: who dares? who dares In puritie of Manhood stand vpright

And say, this mans a Flatterer. If one be, So are they all: for euerie
grize of Fortune Is smooth'd by that below. The Learned pate Duckes to
the Golden Foole. All's obliquie: There's nothing leuell in our cursed
Natures But direct villanie. Therefore be abhorr'd, All Feasts,
Societies, and Throngs of men. His semblable, yea himselfe Timon
disdaines, Destruction phang mankinde; Earth yeeld me Rootes, Who
seekes for better of thee, sawce his pallate With thy most operant
Poyson. What is heere? Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious Gold?

No Gods, I am no idle Votarist,

Roots you cleere Heauens. Thus much of this will make Blacke, white;
fowle, faire; wrong, right; Base, Noble; Old, young; Coward, valiant.
Ha you Gods! why this? what this, you Gods? why this Will lugge your
Priests and Seruants from your sides: Plucke stout mens pillowes from
below their heads. This yellow Slaue,

Will knit and breake Religions, blesse th' accurst, Make the hoare
Leprosie ador'd, place Theeues, And giue them Title, knee, and
approbation With Senators on the Bench: This is it

That makes the wappen'd Widdow wed againe; Shee, whom the
Spittle-house, and vlcerous sores, Would cast the gorge at. This
Embalmes and Spices To'th' Aprill day againe. Come damn'd Earth, Thou
common whore of Mankinde, that puttes oddes Among the rout of Nations,
I will make thee Do thy right Nature.

March afarre off.

Ha? A Drumme? Th'art quicke,

But yet Ile bury thee: Thou't go (strong Theefe) When Gowty keepers of
thee cannot stand:

Nay stay thou out for earnest.

Enter Alcibiades with Drumme and Fife in warlike manner, and Phrynia
and

Timandra.

Alc. What art thou there? speake

Tim. A Beast as thou art. The Canker gnaw thy hart For shewing me
againe the eyes of Man

Alc. What is thy name? Is man so hatefull to thee, That art thy
selfe a Man?

Tim. I am Misantropos, and hate Mankinde. For thy part, I do wish
thou wert a dogge, That I might loue thee something

Alc. I know thee well:

But in thy Fortunes am vnlearn'd, and strange

Tim. I know thee too, and more then that I know thee I not desire to
know. Follow thy Drumme,

With mans blood paint the ground Gules, Gules: Religious Cannons,
ciuill Lawes are cruell, Then what should warre be? This fell whore of
thine, Hath in her more destruction then thy Sword, For all her
Cherubin looke

Phrin. Thy lips rot off

Tim. I will not kisse thee, then the rot returnes To thine owne
lippes againe

Alc. How came the Noble Timon to this change?   Tim. As the Moone
do's, by wanting light to giue: But then renew I could not like the
Moone, There were no Sunnes to borrow of

Alc. Noble Timon, what friendship may I do thee?   Tim. None, but to
maintaine my opinion

Alc. What is it Timon?

Tim. Promise me Friendship, but performe none. If thou wilt not
promise, the Gods plague thee, for thou art a man: if thou do'st
performe, confound thee, for thou art a man

Alc. I haue heard in some sort of thy Miseries

Tim. Thou saw'st them when I had prosperitie

Alc. I see them now, then was a blessed time

Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of Harlots

Timan. Is this th' Athenian Minion, whom the world Voic'd so
regardfully?

Tim. Art thou Timandra?

Timan. Yes

Tim. Be a whore still, they loue thee not that vse thee, giue them
diseases, leauing with thee their Lust. Make vse of thy salt houres,
season the slaues for Tubbes and Bathes, bring downe Rose-cheekt youth
to the Fubfast, and the Diet

Timan. Hang thee Monster

Alc. Pardon him sweet Timandra, for his wits Are drown'd and lost in
his Calamities.

I haue but little Gold of late, braue Timon, The want whereof, doth
dayly make reuolt

In my penurious Band. I haue heard and greeu'd How cursed Athens,
mindelesse of thy worth, Forgetting thy great deeds, when Neighbour
states But for thy Sword and Fortune trod vpon them

Tim. I prythee beate thy Drum, and get thee gone

Alc. I am thy Friend, and pitty thee deere Timon

Tim. How doest thou pitty him whom y dost troble, I had rather be
alone

Alc. Why fare thee well:

Heere is some Gold for thee

Tim. Keepe it, I cannot eate it

Alc. When I haue laid proud Athens on a heape

Tim. Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens

Alc. I Timon, and haue cause

Tim. The Gods confound them all in thy Conquest, And thee after,
when thou hast Conquer'd

Alc. Why me, Timon?

Tim. That by killing of Villaines

Thou was't borne to conquer my Country.

Put vp thy Gold. Go on, heeres Gold, go on; Be as a Plannetary plague,
when Ioue

Will o're some high-Vic'd City, hang his poyson In the sicke ayre: let
not thy sword skip one: Pitty not honour'd Age for his white Beard, He
is an Vsurer. Strike me the counterfet Matron, It is her habite onely,
that is honest,

Her selfe's a Bawd. Let not the Virgins cheeke Make soft thy trenchant
Sword: for those Milke pappes That through the window Barne bore at
mens eyes, Are not within the Leafe of pitty writ,

But set them down horrible Traitors. Spare not the Babe Whose dimpled
smiles from Fooles exhaust their mercy; Thinke it a Bastard, whom the
Oracle

Hath doubtfully pronounced, the throat shall cut, And mince it sans
remorse. Sweare against Obiects, Put Armour on thine eares, and on
thine eyes, Whose proofe, nor yels of Mothers, Maides, nor Babes, Nor
sight of Priests in holy Vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a iot.
There's Gold to pay thy Souldiers, Make large confusion: and thy fury
spent, Confounded be thy selfe. Speake not, be gone

Alc. Hast thou Gold yet, Ile take the Gold thou giuest me, not all
thy Counsell

Tim. Dost thou or dost thou not, Heauens curse vpon thee

Both. Giue vs some Gold good Timon, hast y more?   Tim. Enough to
make a Whore forsweare her Trade, And to make Whores, a Bawd. Hold vp
you Sluts Your Aprons mountant; you are not Othable, Although I know
you'l sweare, terribly sweare Into strong shudders, and to heauenly
Agues Th' immortall Gods that heare you. Spare your Oathes: Ile trust
to your Conditions, be whores still. And he whose pious breath seekes
to conuert you, Be strong in Whore, allure him, burne him vp, Let your
close fire predominate his smoke, And be no turne-coats: yet may your
paines six months Be quite contrary, And Thatch

Your poore thin Roofes with burthens of the dead, (Some that were
hang'd) no matter:

Weare them, betray with them; Whore still, Paint till a horse may myre
vpon your face: A pox of wrinkles

Both. Well, more Gold, what then?

Beleeue't that wee'l do any thing for Gold

Tim. Consumptions sowe

In hollow bones of man, strike their sharpe shinnes, And marre mens
spurring. Cracke the Lawyers voyce, That he may neuer more false Title
pleade, Nor sound his Quillets shrilly: Hoare the Flamen, That scold'st
against the quality of flesh, And not beleeues himselfe. Downe with the
Nose, Downe with it flat, take the Bridge quite away Of him, that his
particular to foresee

Smels from the generall weale. Make curl'd pate Ruffians bald And let
the vnscarr'd Braggerts of the Warre Deriue some paine from you. Plague
all,

That your Actiuity may defeate and quell

The sourse of all Erection. There's more Gold. Do you damne others, and
let this damne you, And ditches graue you all

Both. More counsell with more Money, bounteous Timon

Tim. More whore, more Mischeefe first, I haue giuen you earnest

Alc. Strike vp the Drum towardes Athens, farewell Timon: if I thriue
well, Ile visit thee againe

Tim. If I hope well, Ile neuer see thee more

Alc. I neuer did thee harme

Tim. Yes, thou spok'st well of me

Alc. Call'st thou that harme?

Tim. Men dayly finde it. Get thee away, And take thy Beagles with
thee

Alc. We but offend him, strike.

Exeunt.

Tim. That Nature being sicke of mans vnkindnesse Should yet be
hungry: Common Mother, thou Whose wombe vnmeasureable, and infinite
brest Teemes and feeds all: whose selfesame Mettle Whereof thy proud
Childe (arrogant man) is puft, Engenders the blacke Toad, and Adder
blew, The gilded Newt, and eyelesse venom'd Worme, With all th'
abhorred Births below Crispe Heauen, Whereon Hyperions quickning fire
doth shine: Yeeld him, who all the humane Sonnes do hate, From foorth
thy plenteous bosome, one poore roote: Enseare thy Fertile and
Conceptious wombe, Let it no more bring out ingratefull man. Goe great
with Tygers, Dragons, Wolues, and Beares, Teeme with new Monsters, whom
thy vpward face Hath to the Marbled Mansion all aboue

Neuer presented. O, a Root, deare thankes: Dry vp thy Marrowes, Vines,
and Plough-torne Leas, Whereof ingratefull man with Licourish draughts
And Morsels Vnctious, greases his pure minde, That from it all
Consideration slippes-

Enter Apemantus.

More man? Plague, plague

Ape. I was directed hither. Men report, Thou dost affect my Manners,
and dost vse them

Tim. 'Tis then, because thou dost not keepe a dogge Whom I would
imitate. Consumption catch thee

Ape. This is in thee a Nature but infected, A poore vnmanly
Melancholly sprung

From change of future. Why this Spade? this place? This Slaue-like
Habit, and these lookes of Care? Thy Flatterers yet weare Silke, drinke
Wine, lye soft, Hugge their diseas'd Perfumes, and haue forgot That
euer Timon was. Shame not these Woods, By putting on the cunning of a
Carper.

Be thou a Flatterer now, and seeke to thriue By that which ha's vndone
thee; hindge thy knee, And let his very breath whom thou'lt obserue
Blow off thy Cap: praise his most vicious straine, And call it
excellent: thou wast told thus: Thou gau'st thine eares (like Tapsters,
that bad welcom) To Knaues, and all approachers: 'Tis most iust That
thou turne Rascall, had'st thou wealth againe, Rascals should haue't.
Do not assume my likenesse

Tim. Were I like thee, I'de throw away my selfe

Ape. Thou hast cast away thy selfe, being like thy self A Madman so
long, now a Foole: what think'st That the bleake ayre, thy boysterous
Chamberlaine Will put thy shirt on warme? Will these moyst Trees, That
haue out-liu'd the Eagle, page thy heeles And skip when thou point'st
out? Will the cold brooke Candied with Ice, Cawdle thy Morning taste To
cure thy o're-nights surfet? Call the Creatures, Whose naked Natures
liue in all the spight Of wrekefull Heauen, whose bare vnhoused
Trunkes, To the conflicting Elements expos'd

Answer meere Nature: bid them flatter thee. O thou shalt finde

Tim. A Foole of thee: depart

Ape. I loue thee better now, then ere I did

Tim. I hate thee worse

Ape. Why?

Tim. Thou flatter'st misery

Ape. I flatter not, but say thou art a Caytiffe

Tim. Why do'st thou seeke me out?

Ape. To vex thee

Tim. Alwayes a Villaines Office, or a Fooles. Dost please thy selfe
in't?

Ape. I

Tim. What, a Knaue too?

Ape. If thou did'st put this sowre cold habit on To castigate thy
pride, 'twere well: but thou Dost it enforcedly: Thou'dst Courtier be
againe Wert thou not Beggar: willing misery

Out-liues: incertaine pompe, is crown'd before: The one is filling
still, neuer compleat: The other, at high wish: best state
Contentlesse, Hath a distracted and most wretched being, Worse then the
worst, Content.

Thou should'st desire to dye, being miserable

Tim. Not by his breath, that is more miserable. Thou art a Slaue,
whom Fortunes tender arme With fauour neuer claspt: but bred a Dogge.
Had'st thou like vs from our first swath proceeded, The sweet degrees
that this breefe world affords, To such as may the passiue drugges of
it

Freely command'st: thou would'st haue plung'd thy self In generall
Riot, melted downe thy youth

In different beds of Lust, and neuer learn'd The Icie precepts of
respect, but followed The Sugred game before thee. But my selfe, Who
had the world as my Confectionarie,

The mouthes, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men, At duty more
then I could frame employment; That numberlesse vpon me stucke, as
leaues Do on the Oake, haue with one Winters brush Fell from their
boughes, and left me open, bare, For euery storme that blowes. I to
beare this, That neuer knew but better, is some burthen: Thy Nature,
did commence in sufferance, Time Hath made thee hard in't. Why
should'st y hate Men? They neuer flatter'd thee. What hast thou giuen?
If thou wilt curse; thy Father (that poore ragge) Must be thy subiect;
who in spight put stuffe To some shee-Begger, and compounded thee

Poore Rogue, hereditary. Hence, be gone,

If thou hadst not bene borne the worst of men, Thou hadst bene a Knaue
and Flatterer

Ape. Art thou proud yet?

Tim. I, that I am not thee

Ape. I, that I was no Prodigall

Tim. I, that I am one now.

Were all the wealth I haue shut vp in thee, I'ld giue thee leaue to
hang it. Get thee gone: That the whole life of Athens were in this,
Thus would I eate it

Ape. Heere, I will mend thy Feast

Tim. First mend thy company, take away thy selfe

Ape. So I shall mend mine owne, by'th' lacke of thine   Tim. 'Tis
not well mended so, it is but botcht; If not, I would it were

Ape. What would'st thou haue to Athens?   Tim. Thee thither in a
whirlewind: if thou wilt, Tell them there I haue Gold, looke, so I
haue

Ape. Heere is no vse for Gold

Tim. The best, and truest:

For heere it sleepes, and do's no hyred harme

Ape. Where lyest a nights Timon?

Tim. Vnder that's aboue me.

Where feed'st thou a-dayes Apemantus?

Ape. Where my stomacke findes meate, or rather where I eate it

Tim. Would poyson were obedient, & knew my mind   Ape. Where
would'st thou send it?

Tim. To sawce thy dishes

Ape. The middle of Humanity thou neuer knewest, but the extremitie
of both ends. When thou wast in thy Gilt, and thy Perfume, they mockt
thee for too much Curiositie: in thy Ragges thou know'st none, but art
despis'd for the contrary. There's a medler for thee, eate it

Tim. On what I hate, I feed not

Ape. Do'st hate a Medler?

Tim. I, though it looke like thee

Ape. And th'hadst hated Medlers sooner, y should'st haue loued thy
selfe better now. What man didd'st thou euer know vnthrift, that was
beloued after his meanes!   Tim. Who without those meanes thou talk'st
of, didst thou euer know belou'd?

Ape. My selfe

Tim. I vnderstand thee: thou had'st some meanes to keepe a Dogge

Apem. What things in the world canst thou neerest compare to thy
Flatterers?

Tim. Women neerest, but men: men are the things themselues. What
would'st thou do with the world Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?

Ape. Giue it the Beasts, to be rid of the men

Tim. Would'st thou haue thy selfe fall in the confusion of men, and
remaine a Beast with the Beasts

Ape. I Timon

Tim. A beastly Ambition, which the Goddes graunt thee t' attaine to.
If thou wert the Lyon, the Fox would beguile thee. if thou wert the
Lambe, the Foxe would eate thee: if thou wert the Fox, the Lion would
suspect thee, when peraduenture thou wert accus'd by the Asse: If thou
wert the Asse, thy dulnesse would torment thee; and still thou liu'dst
but as a Breakefast to the Wolfe. If thou wert the Wolfe, thy
greedinesse would afflict thee, & oft thou should'st hazard thy life
for thy dinner. Wert thou the Vnicorne, pride and wrath would confound
thee, and make thine owne selfe the conquest of thy fury. Wert thou a
Beare, thou would'st be kill'd by the Horse: wert thou a Horse, thou
would'st be seaz'd by the Leopard: wert thou a Leopard, thou wert
Germane to the Lion, and the spottes of thy Kindred, were Iurors on thy
life. All thy safety were remotion, and thy defence absence. What Beast
could'st thou bee, that were not subiect to a Beast: and what a Beast
art thou already, that seest not thy losse in transformation

Ape. If thou could'st please me

With speaking to me, thou might'st

Haue hit vpon it heere.

The Commonwealth of Athens, is become

A Forrest of Beasts

Tim. How ha's the Asse broke the wall, that thou art out of the
Citie

Ape. Yonder comes a Poet and a Painter: The plague of Company light
vpon thee:

I will feare to catch it, and giue way.

When I know not what else to do,

Ile see thee againe

Tim. When there is nothing liuing but thee, Thou shalt be welcome.

I had rather be a Beggers Dogge,

Then Apemantus

Ape. Thou art the Cap

Of all the Fooles aliue

Tim. Would thou wert cleane enough

To spit vpon

Ape. A plague on thee,

Thou art too bad to curse

Tim. All Villaines

That do stand by thee, are pure

Ape. There is no Leprosie,

But what thou speak'st

Tim. If I name thee, Ile beate thee;

But I should infect my hands

Ape. I would my tongue

Could rot them off

Tim. Away thou issue of a mangie dogge, Choller does kill me,

That thou art aliue, I swoond to see thee

Ape. Would thou would'st burst

Tim. Away thou tedious Rogue, I am sorry I shall lose a stone by
thee

Ape. Beast

Tim. Slaue

Ape. Toad

Tim. Rogue, Rogue, Rogue.

I am sicke of this false world, and will loue nought But euen the meere
necessities vpon't:

Then Timon presently prepare thy graue:

Lye where the light Fome of the Sea may beate Thy graue stone dayly,
make thine Epitaph, That death in me, at others liues may laugh. O thou
sweete King-killer, and deare diuorce Twixt naturall Sunne and fire:
thou bright defiler Of Himens purest bed, thou valiant Mars,

Thou euer, yong, fresh, loued, and delicate wooer, Whose blush doth
thawe the consecrated Snow That lyes on Dians lap.

Thou visible God,

That souldrest close Impossibilities,

And mak'st them kisse; that speak'st with euerie Tongue To euerie
purpose: O thou touch of hearts, Thinke thy slaue-man rebels, and by
thy vertue Set them into confounding oddes, that Beasts May haue the
world in Empire

Ape. Would 'twere so,

But not till I am dead. Ile say th'hast Gold: Thou wilt be throng'd too
shortly

Tim. Throng'd too?

Ape. I

Tim. Thy backe I prythee

Ape. Liue, and loue thy misery

Tim. Long liue so, and so dye. I am quit

Ape. Mo things like men,

Eate Timon, and abhorre then.

Exit Apeman[tus].

Enter the Bandetti.

1 Where should he haue this Gold? It is some poore Fragment, some
slender Ort of his remainder: the meere want of Gold, and the falling
from of his Friendes, droue him into this Melancholly

2 It is nois'd

He hath a masse of Treasure

3 Let vs make the assay vpon him, if he care not for't, he will
supply vs easily: if he couetously reserue it, how shall's get it?

2 True: for he beares it not about him: 'Tis hid

1 Is not this hee?

All. Where?

2 'Tis his description

3 He? I know him

All. Saue thee Timon

Tim. Now Theeues

All. Soldiers, not Theeues

Tim. Both too, and womens Sonnes

All. We are not Theeues, but men

That much do want

Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much of meat: Why should you
want? Behold, the Earth hath Rootes: Within this Mile breake forth a
hundred Springs: The Oakes beare Mast, the Briars Scarlet Heps, The
bounteous Huswife Nature, on each bush, Layes her full Messe before
you. Want? why Want?   1 We cannot liue on Grasse, on Berries, Water,
As Beasts, and Birds, and Fishes

Ti. Nor on the Beasts themselues, the Birds & Fishes, You must eate
men. Yet thankes I must you con, That you are Theeues profest: that you
worke not In holier shapes: For there is boundlesse Theft In limited
Professions. Rascall Theeues

Heere's Gold. Go, sucke the subtle blood o'th' Grape, Till the high
Feauor seeth your blood to froth, And so scape hanging. Trust not the
Physitian, His Antidotes are poyson, and he slayes

Moe then you Rob: Take wealth, and liues together, Do Villaine do,
since you protest to doo't. Like Workemen, Ile example you with
Theeuery: The Sunnes a Theefe, and with his great attraction Robbes the
vaste Sea. The Moones an arrant Theefe, And her pale fire, she snatches
from the Sunne. The Seas a Theefe, whose liquid Surge, resolues The
Moone into Salt teares. The Earth's a Theefe, That feeds and breeds by
a composture stolne From gen'rall excrement: each thing's a Theefe. The
Lawes, your curbe and whip, in their rough power Ha's vncheck'd Theft.
Loue not your selues, away, Rob one another, there's more Gold, cut
throates, All that you meete are Theeues: to Athens go, Breake open
shoppes, nothing can you steale But Theeues do loose it: steale lesse,
for this I giue you, And Gold confound you howsoere: Amen

3 Has almost charm'd me from my Profession, by perswading me to it

1 'Tis in the malice of mankinde, that he thus aduises vs not to
haue vs thriue in our mystery

2 Ile beleeue him as an Enemy,

And giue ouer my Trade

1 Let vs first see peace in Athens, there is no time so miserable,
but a man may be true.

Exit Theeues.

Enter the Steward to Timon.

Stew. Oh you Gods!

Is yon'd despis'd and ruinous man my Lord? Full of decay and fayling?
Oh Monument

And wonder of good deeds, euilly bestow'd! What an alteration of Honor
has desp'rate want made? What vilder thing vpon the earth, then
Friends, Who can bring Noblest mindes, to basest ends. How rarely does
it meete with this times guise, When man was wisht to loue his
Enemies:

Grant I may euer loue, and rather woo

Those that would mischeefe me, then those that doo. Has caught me in
his eye, I will present my honest griefe vnto him; and as my Lord,
still serue him with my life. My deerest Master

Tim. Away: what art thou?

Stew. Haue you forgot me, Sir?

Tim. Why dost aske that? I haue forgot all men. Then, if thou
grunt'st, th'art a man.

I haue forgot thee

Stew. An honest poore seruant of yours

Tim. Then I know thee not:

I neuer had honest man about me, I all

I kept were Knaues, to serue in meate to Villaines

Stew. The Gods are witnesse,

Neu'r did poore Steward weare a truer greefe For his vndone Lord, then
mine eyes for you

Tim. What, dost thou weepe?

Come neerer, then I loue thee

Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st Flinty mankinde: whose eyes
do neuer giue, But thorow Lust and Laughter: pittie's sleeping: Strange
times y weepe with laughing, not with weeping

Stew. I begge of you to know me, good my Lord, T' accept my greefe,
and whil'st this poore wealth lasts, To entertaine me as your Steward
still

Tim. Had I a Steward

So true, so iust, and now so comfortable? It almost turnes my dangerous
Nature wilde. Let me behold thy face: Surely, this man

Was borne of woman.

Forgiue my generall, and exceptlesse rashnesse You perpetuall sober
Gods. I do proclaime One honest man: Mistake me not, but one:

No more I pray, and hee's a Steward.

How faine would I haue hated all mankinde, And thou redeem'st thy
selfe. But all saue thee, I fell with Curses.

Me thinkes thou art more honest now, then wise: For, by oppressing and
betraying mee,

Thou might'st haue sooner got another Seruice: For many so arriue at
second Masters,

Vpon their first Lords necke. But tell me true, (For I must euer doubt,
though ne're so sure) Is not thy kindnesse subtle, couetous,

If not a Vsuring kindnesse, and as rich men deale Guifts, Expecting in
returne twenty for one?

Stew. No my most worthy Master, in whose brest Doubt, and suspect
(alas) are plac'd too late: You should haue fear'd false times, when
you did Feast. Suspect still comes, where an estate is least. That
which I shew, Heauen knowes, is meerely Loue, Dutie, and Zeale, to your
vnmatched minde; Care of your Food and Liuing, and beleeue it, My most
Honour'd Lord,

For any benefit that points to mee,

Either in hope, or present, I'de exchange For this one wish, that you
had power and wealth To requite me, by making rich your selfe

Tim. Looke thee, 'tis so: thou singly honest man, Heere take: the
Gods out of my miserie

Ha's sent thee Treasure. Go, liue rich and happy, But thus condition'd:
Thou shalt build from men: Hate all, curse all, shew Charity to none,
But let the famisht flesh slide from the Bone, Ere thou releeue the
Begger. Giue to dogges What thou denyest to men. Let Prisons swallow
'em, Debts wither 'em to nothing, be men like blasted woods And may
Diseases licke vp their false bloods, And so farewell, and thriue

Stew. O let me stay, and comfort you, my Master

Tim. If thou hat'st Curses

Stay not: flye, whil'st thou art blest and free: Ne're see thou man,
and let me ne're see thee.

Exit

Enter Poet, and Painter.

Pain. As I tooke note of the place, it cannot be farre where he
abides

Poet. What's to be thought of him?

Does the Rumor hold for true,

That hee's so full of Gold?

Painter. Certaine.

Alcibiades reports it: Phrinica and Timandylo Had Gold of him. He
likewise enrich'd

Poore stragling Souldiers, with great quantity. 'Tis saide, he gaue
vnto his Steward

A mighty summe

Poet. Then this breaking of his,

Ha's beene but a Try for his Friends?

Painter. Nothing else:

You shall see him a Palme in Athens againe, And flourish with the
highest:

Therefore, 'tis not amisse, we tender our loues To him, in this
suppos'd distresse of his: It will shew honestly in vs,

And is very likely, to loade our purposes With what they trauaile for,

If it be a iust and true report, that goes Of his hauing

Poet. What haue you now

To present vnto him?

Painter. Nothing at this time

But my Visitation: onely I will promise him An excellent Peece

Poet. I must serue him so too;

Tell him of an intent that's comming toward him

Painter. Good as the best.

Promising, is the verie Ayre o'th' Time;

It opens the eyes of Expectation.

Performance, is euer the duller for his acte, And but in the plainer
and simpler kinde of people, The deede of Saying is quite out of vse.

To Promise, is most Courtly and fashionable; Performance, is a kinde of
Will or Testament Which argues a great sicknesse in his iudgement That
makes it.

Enter Timon from his Caue.

Timon. Excellent Workeman,

Thou canst not paint a man so badde

As is thy selfe

Poet. I am thinking

What I shall say I haue prouided for him: It must be a personating of
himselfe:

A Satyre against the softnesse of Prosperity, With a Discouerie of the
infinite Flatteries That follow youth and opulencie

Timon. Must thou needes

Stand for a Villaine in thine owne Worke? Wilt thou whip thine owne
faults in other men? Do so, I haue Gold for thee

Poet. Nay let's seeke him.

Then do we sinne against our owne estate, When we may profit meete, and
come too late

Painter. True:

When the day serues before blacke-corner'd night; Finde what thou
want'st, by free and offer'd light. Come

Tim. Ile meete you at the turne:

What a Gods Gold, that he is worshipt

In a baser Temple, then where Swine feede? 'Tis thou that rigg'st the
Barke, and plow'st the Fome, Setlest admired reuerence in a Slaue,

To thee be worshipt, and thy Saints for aye: Be crown'd with Plagues,
that thee alone obay. Fit I meet them

Poet. Haile worthy Timon

Pain. Our late Noble Master

Timon. Haue I once liu'd

To see two honest men?

Poet. Sir:

Hauing often of your open Bounty tasted,

Hearing you were retyr'd, your Friends falne off, Whose thankelesse
Natures (O abhorred Spirits) Not all the Whippes of Heauen, are large
enough. What, to you,

Whose Starre-like Noblenesse gaue life and influence To their whole
being? I am rapt, and cannot couet The monstrous bulke 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 seene, and
knowne

Pain. He, and my selfe

Haue trauail'd in the great showre of your guifts, And sweetly felt it

Timon. I, you are honest man

Painter. We are hither come

To offer you our seruice

Timon. Most honest men:

Why how shall I requite you?

Can you eate Roots, and drinke cold water, no?   Both. What we can do,

Wee'l do to do you seruice

Tim. Y'are honest men,

Y'haue heard that I haue Gold,

I am sure you haue, speake truth, y'are honest men

Pain. So it is said my Noble Lord, but therefore Came not my Friend,
nor I

Timon. Good honest men: Thou draw'st a counterfet Best in all
Athens, th'art indeed the best, Thou counterfet'st most liuely

Pain. So, so, my Lord

Tim. E'ne so sir as I say. And for thy fiction, Why thy Verse swels
with stuffe so fine and smooth, That thou art euen Naturall in thine
Art. But for all this (my honest Natur'd friends) I must needs say you
haue a little fault, Marry 'tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I
You take much paines to mend

Both. Beseech your Honour

To make it knowne to vs

Tim. You'l take it ill

Both. Most thankefully, my Lord

Timon. Will you indeed?

Both. Doubt it not worthy Lord

Tim. There's neuer a one of you but trusts a Knaue, That mightily
deceiues you

Both. Do we, my Lord?

Tim. I, and you heare him cogge,

See him dissemble,

Know his grosse patchery, loue him, feede him, Keepe in your bosome,
yet remaine assur'd That he's a made-vp-Villaine

Pain. I know none such, my Lord

Poet. Nor I

Timon. Looke you,

I loue you well, Ile giue you Gold

Rid me these Villaines from your companies; Hang them, or stab them,
drowne them in a draught, Confound them by some course, and come to me,
Ile giue you Gold enough

Both. Name them my Lord, let's know them

Tim. You that way, and you this:

But two in Company:

Each man a part, all single, and alone,

Yet an arch Villaine keepes him company:

If where thou art, two Villaines shall not be, Come not neere him. If
thou would'st not recide But where one Villaine is, then him abandon.
Hence, packe, there's Gold, you came for Gold ye slaues: You haue worke
for me; there's payment, hence, You are an Alcumist, make Gold of
that:

Out Rascall dogges.

Exeunt.

Enter Steward, and two Senators.

Stew. It is vaine that you would speake with Timon: For he is set so
onely to himselfe,

That nothing but himselfe, which lookes like man, Is friendly with him

1.Sen. Bring vs to his Caue.

It is our part and promise to th' Athenians To speake with Timon

2.Sen. At all times alike

Men are not still the same: 'twas Time and Greefes That fram'd him
thus. Time with his fairer hand, Offering the Fortunes of his former
dayes, The former man may make him: bring vs to him And chanc'd it as
it may

Stew. Heere is his Caue:

Peace and content be heere. Lord Timon, Timon, Looke out, and speake to
Friends: Th' Athenians By two of their most reuerend Senate greet thee:
Speake to them Noble Timon.

Enter Timon out of his Caue.

Tim. Thou Sunne that comforts burne,

Speake and be hang'd:

For each true word, a blister, and each false Be as a Cantherizing to
the root o'th' Tongue, Consuming it with speaking

1 Worthy Timon

Tim. Of none but such as you,

And you of Timon

1 The Senators of Athens, greet thee Timon

Tim. I thanke them,

And would send them backe the plague,

Could I but catch it for them

1 O forget

What we are sorry for our selues in thee: The Senators, with one
consent of loue,

Intreate thee backe to Athens, who haue thought On speciall Dignities,
which vacant lye

For thy best vse and wearing

2 They confesse

Toward thee, forgetfulnesse too generall grosse; Which now the publike
Body, which doth sildome Play the recanter, feeling in it selfe

A lacke of Timons ayde, hath since withall Of it owne fall, restraining
ayde to Timon, And send forth vs, to make their sorrowed render,
Together, with a recompence more fruitfull Then their offence can weigh
downe by the Dramme, I euen such heapes and summes of Loue and Wealth,
As shall to thee blot out, what wrongs were theirs, And write in thee
the figures of their loue, Euer to read them thine

Tim. You witch me in it;

Surprize me to the very brinke of teares; Lend me a Fooles heart, and a
womans eyes, And Ile beweepe these comforts, worthy Senators

1 Therefore so please thee to returne with vs, And of our Athens,
thine and ours to take The Captainship, thou shalt be met with thankes,
Allowed with absolute power, and thy good name Liue with Authoritie: so
soone we shall driue backe Of Alcibiades th' approaches wild,

Who like a Bore too sauage, doth root vp

His Countries peace

2 And shakes his threatning Sword

Against the walles of Athens

1 Therefore Timon

Tim. 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 he sacke faire Athens, And take our goodly
aged men by'th' Beards, Giuing our holy Virgins to the staine

Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd warre: Then let him know, and
tell him Timon speakes it, In pitty of our aged, and our youth,

I cannot choose but tell him that I care not, And let him tak't at
worst: For their Kniues care not, While you haue throats to answer. For
my selfe, There's not a whittle, in th' vnruly Campe, But I do prize it
at my loue, before

The reuerends Throat in Athens. So I leaue you To the protection of the
prosperous Gods, As Theeues to Keepers

Stew. Stay not, all's in vaine

Tim. Why I was writing of my Epitaph,

It will be seene to morrow. My long sicknesse Of Health, and Liuing,
now begins to mend, And nothing brings me all things. Go, liue still,
Be Alcibiades your plague; you his,

And last so long enough

1 We speake in vaine

Tim. But yet I loue my Country, and am not One that reioyces in the
common wracke,

As common bruite doth put it

1 That's well spoke

Tim. Commend me to my louing Countreymen

1 These words become your lippes as they passe thorow them

2 And enter in our eares, like great Triumphers In their applauding
gates

Tim. Commend me to them,

And tell them, that to ease them of their greefes, Their feares of
Hostile strokes, their Aches losses, Their pangs of Loue, with other
incident throwes That Natures fragile Vessell doth sustaine In lifes
vncertaine voyage, I will some kindnes do them, Ile teach them to
preuent wilde Alcibiades wrath

1 I like this well, he will returne againe

Tim. I haue a Tree which growes heere in my Close, That mine owne
vse inuites me to cut downe, And shortly must I fell it. Tell my
Friends, Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree,

From high to low throughout, that who so please To stop Affliction, let
him take his haste; Come hither ere my Tree hath felt the Axe, And hang
himselfe. I pray you do my greeting

Stew. Trouble him no further, thus you still shall Finde him

Tim. Come not to me againe, but say to Athens, Timon hath made his
euerlasting Mansion

Vpon the Beached Verge of the salt Flood, Who once a day with his
embossed Froth

The turbulent Surge shall couer; thither come, And let my graue-stone
be your Oracle:

Lippes, let foure words go by, and Language end: What is amisse, Plague
and Infection mend. Graues onely be mens workes, and Death their gaine;
Sunne, hide thy Beames, Timon hath done his Raigne.

Exit Timon.

1 His discontents are vnremoueably coupled to Nature

2 Our hope in him is dead: let vs returne, And straine what other
meanes is left vnto vs In our deere perill

1 It requires swift foot.

Exeunt.

Enter two other Senators, with a Messenger.

1 Thou hast painfully discouer'd: are his Files As full as thy
report?

Mes. I haue spoke the least.

Besides his expedition promises present approach

2 We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon

Mes. I met a Currier, one mine ancient Friend, Whom though in
generall part we were oppos'd, Yet our old loue made a particular
force, And made vs speake like Friends. This man was riding From
Alcibiades to Timons Caue,

With Letters of intreaty, which imported

His Fellowship i'th' cause against your City, In part for his sake
mou'd.

Enter the other Senators.

1 Heere come our Brothers

3 No talke of Timon, nothing of him expect, The Enemies Drumme is
heard, and fearefull scouring Doth choake the ayre with dust: In, and
prepare, Ours is the fall I feare, our Foes the Snare.

Exeunt.

Enter a Souldier in the Woods, seeking Timon.

Sol. By all description this should be the place. Whose heere? Speake
hoa. No answer? What is this? Tymon is dead, who hath out-stretcht his
span, Some Beast reade this; There do's not liue a Man. Dead sure, and
this his Graue, what's on this Tomb, I cannot read: the Charracter Ile
take with wax, Our Captaine hath in euery Figure skill;

An ag'd Interpreter, though yong in dayes: Before proud Athens hee's
set downe by this, Whose fall the marke of his Ambition is.

Enter.

Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades with his Powers before Athens.

Alc. Sound to this Coward, and lasciuious Towne, Our terrible
approach.

Sounds a Parly.

The Senators appeare vpon the wals.

Till now you haue gone on, and fill'd the time With all Licentious
measure, making your willes The scope of Iustice. Till now, my selfe
and such As slept within the shadow of your power

Haue wander'd with our trauerst Armes, and breath'd Our sufferance
vainly: Now the time is flush, When crouching Marrow in the bearer
strong Cries (of it selfe) no more: Now breathlesse wrong, Shall sit
and pant in your great Chaires of ease, And pursie Insolence shall
breake his winde With feare and horrid flight

1.Sen. Noble, and young;

When thy first greefes were but a meere conceit, Ere thou had'st power,
or we had cause of feare, We sent to thee, to giue thy rages Balme, To
wipe out our Ingratitude, with Loues

Aboue their quantitie

2 So did we wooe

Transformed Timon, to our Citties loue

By humble Message, and by promist meanes: We were not all vnkinde, nor
all deserue

The common stroke of warre

1 These walles of ours,

Were not erected by their hands, from whom You haue receyu'd your
greefe: Nor are they such, That these great Towres, Trophees, & Schools
shold fall For priuate faults in them

2 Nor are they liuing

Who were the motiues that you first went out, (Shame that they wanted,
cunning in excesse) Hath broke their hearts. March, Noble Lord, Into
our City with thy Banners spred,

By decimation and a tythed death;

If thy Reuenges hunger for that Food

Which Nature loathes, take thou the destin'd tenth, And by the hazard
of the spotted dye,

Let dye the spotted

1 All haue not offended:

For those that were, it is not square to take On those that are,
Reuenge: Crimes, like Lands Are not inherited, then deere Countryman,
Bring in thy rankes, but leaue without thy rage, Spare thy Athenian
Cradle, and those Kin

Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall With those that haue
offended, like a Shepheard, Approach the Fold, and cull th' infected
forth, But kill not altogether

2 What thou wilt,

Thou rather shalt inforce it with thy smile, Then hew too't, with thy
Sword

1 Set but thy foot

Against our rampyr'd gates, and they shall ope: So thou wilt send thy
gentle heart before, To say thou't enter Friendly

2 Throw thy Gloue,

Or any Token of thine Honour else,

That thou wilt vse the warres as thy redresse, And not as our
Confusion: All thy Powers

Shall make their harbour in our Towne, till wee Haue seal'd thy full
desire

Alc. Then there's my Gloue,

Defend and open your vncharged Ports,

Those Enemies of Timons, and mine owne

Whom you your selues shall set out for reproofe, Fall and no more; and
to attone your feares With my more Noble meaning, not a man

Shall passe his quarter, or offend the streame Of Regular Iustice in
your Citties bounds, But shall be remedied to your publique Lawes At
heauiest answer

Both. 'Tis most Nobly spoken

Alc. Descend, and keepe your words.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes. My Noble Generall, Timon is dead,

Entomb'd vpon the very hemme o'th' Sea,

And on his Grauestone, this Insculpture which With wax I brought away:
whose soft Impression Interprets for my poore ignorance.

Alcibiades reades the Epitaph.

Heere lies a wretched Coarse, of wretched Soule bereft, Seek not my
name: A Plague consume you, wicked Caitifs left: Heere lye I Timon, who
aliue, all liuing men did hate, Passe by, and curse thy fill, but passe
and stay not here thy gate. These well expresse in thee thy latter
spirits: Though thou abhorrd'st in vs our humane griefes, Scornd'st our
Braines flow, and those our droplets, which From niggard Nature fall;
yet Rich Conceit Taught thee to make vast Neptune weepe for aye On thy
low Graue, on faults forgiuen. Dead Is Noble Timon, of whose Memorie

Heereafter more. Bring me into your Citie, And I will vse the Oliue,
with my Sword:

Make war breed peace; make peace stint war, make each Prescribe to
other, as each others Leach. Let our Drummes strike.

Exeunt.



FINIS.

THE ACTORS NAMES.

TYMON of Athens.

Lucius, And Lucullus, two Flattering Lords. Appemantus, a Churlish
Philosopher.

Sempronius another flattering Lord.

Alcibiades, an Athenian Captaine.

Poet.

Painter.

Ieweller.

Merchant.

Certaine Theeues.

Flaminius, one of Tymons Seruants.

Seruilius, another.

Caphis.

Varro.

Philo.

Titus.

Lucius.

Hortensis Seuerall Seruants to Vsurers.

Ventigius. one of Tymons false Friends.

Cupid.

Sempronius. With diuers other Seruants, And Attendants.

THE LIFE OF TYMON OF ATHENS.



The Tragedie of Julius Caesar

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Flauius, Murellus, and certaine Commoners ouer the Stage.

Flauius. Hence: home you idle Creatures, get you home: Is this a
Holiday? What, know you not

(Being Mechanicall) you ought not walke

Vpon a labouring day, without the signe

Of your Profession? Speake, what Trade art thou?   Car. Why Sir, a
Carpenter

Mur. Where is thy Leather Apron, and thy Rule? What dost thou with
thy best Apparrell on? You sir, what Trade are you?

Cobl. Truely Sir, in respect of a fine Workman, I am but as you would
say, a Cobler

Mur. But what Trade art thou? Answer me directly

Cob. A Trade Sir, that I hope I may vse, with a safe Conscience,
which is indeed Sir, a Mender of bad soules

Fla. What Trade thou knaue? Thou naughty knaue, what Trade?

Cobl. Nay I beseech you Sir, be not out with me: yet if you be out
Sir, I can mend you

Mur. What mean'st thou by that? Mend mee, thou sawcy Fellow?

Cob. Why sir, Cobble you

Fla. Thou art a Cobler, art thou?

Cob. Truly sir, all that I liue by, is with the Aule: I meddle with
no Tradesmans matters, nor womens matters; but withal I am indeed Sir,
a Surgeon to old shooes: when they are in great danger, I recouer them.
As proper men as euer trod vpon Neats Leather, haue gone vpon my
handy-worke

Fla. But wherefore art not in thy Shop to day? Why do'st thou leade
these men about the streets?   Cob. Truly sir, to weare out their
shooes, to get my selfe into more worke. But indeede sir, we make
Holyday to see Caesar, and to reioyce in his Triumph

Mur. Wherefore reioyce?

What Conquest brings he home?

What Tributaries follow him to Rome,

To grace in Captiue bonds his Chariot Wheeles? You Blockes, you stones,
you worse then senslesse things: O you hard hearts, you cruell men of
Rome, Knew you not Pompey many a time and oft?

Haue you climb'd vp to Walles and Battlements, To Towres and Windowes?
Yea, to Chimney tops, Your Infants in your Armes, and there haue sate
The liue-long day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey passe
the streets of Rome: And when you saw his Chariot but appeare, Haue you
not made an Vniuersall shout,

That Tyber trembled vnderneath her bankes To heare the replication of
your sounds,

Made in her Concaue Shores?

And do you now put on your best attyre?

And do you now cull out a Holyday?

And do you now strew Flowers in his way,

That comes in Triumph ouer Pompeyes blood? Be gone,

Runne to your houses, fall vpon your knees, Pray to the Gods to
intermit the plague

That needs must light on this Ingratitude

Fla. Go, go, good Countrymen, and for this fault Assemble all the
poore men of your sort;

Draw them to Tyber bankes, and weepe your teares Into the Channell,
till the lowest streame Do kisse the most exalted Shores of all.

Exeunt. all the Commoners.

See where their basest mettle be not mou'd, They vanish tongue-tyed in
their guiltinesse: Go you downe that way towards the Capitoll, This way
will I: Disrobe the Images,

If you do finde them deckt with Ceremonies

Mur. May we do so?

You know it is the Feast of Lupercall

Fla. It is no matter, let no Images

Be hung with Caesars Trophees: Ile about, And driue away the Vulgar
from the streets; So do you too, where you perceiue them thicke. These
growing Feathers, pluckt from Caesars wing, Will make him flye an
ordinary pitch,

Who else would soare aboue the view of men, And keepe vs all in seruile
fearefulnesse.

Exeunt.

Enter Caesar, Antony for the Course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius,
Cicero,

Brutus, Cassius, Caska, a Soothsayer: after them Murellus and Flauius.

Caes. Calphurnia

Cask. Peace ho, Caesar speakes

Caes. Calphurnia

Calp. Heere my Lord

Caes. Stand you directly in Antonio's way, When he doth run his
course. Antonio

Ant. Csar, my Lord

Caes. Forget not in your speed Antonio, To touch Calphurnia: for our
Elders say,

The Barren touched in this holy chace,

Shake off their sterrile curse

Ant. I shall remember,

When Caesar sayes, Do this; it is perform'd

Caes. Set on, and leaue no Ceremony out

Sooth. Caesar

Caes. Ha? Who calles?

Cask. Bid euery noyse be still: peace yet againe

Caes. Who is it in the presse, that calles on me? I heare a Tongue
shriller then all the Musicke Cry, Caesar: Speake, Caesar is turn'd to
heare

Sooth. Beware the Ides of March

Caes. What man is that?

Br. A Sooth-sayer bids you beware the Ides of March   Caes. Set him
before me, let me see his face

Cassi. Fellow, come from the throng, look vpon Caesar

Caes. What sayst thou to me now? Speak once againe,   Sooth. Beware
the Ides of March

Caes. He is a Dreamer, let vs leaue him: Passe.

Sennet

Exeunt. Manet Brut. & Cass.

Cassi. Will you go see the order of the course?   Brut. Not I

Cassi. I pray you do

Brut. I am not Gamesom: I do lacke some part Of that quicke Spirit
that is in Antony:

Let me not hinder Cassius your desires;

Ile leaue you

Cassi. Brutus, I do obserue you now of late: I haue not from your
eyes, that gentlenesse And shew of Loue, as I was wont to haue:

You beare too stubborne, and too strange a hand Ouer your Friend, that
loues you

Bru. Cassius,

Be not deceiu'd: If I haue veyl'd my looke, I turne the trouble of my
Countenance

Meerely vpon my selfe. Vexed I am

Of late, with passions of some difference, Conceptions onely proper to
my selfe,

Which giue some soyle (perhaps) to my Behauiours: But let not therefore
my good Friends be greeu'd (Among which number Cassius be you one)

Nor construe any further my neglect,

Then that poore Brutus with himselfe at warre, Forgets the shewes of
Loue to other men

Cassi. Then Brutus, I haue much mistook your passion, By meanes
whereof, this Brest 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 it selfe but by reflection, By some other things

Cassius. 'Tis iust,

And it is very much lamented Brutus,

That you haue no such Mirrors, as will turne Your hidden worthinesse
into your eye,

That you might see your shadow:

I haue heard,

Where many of the best respect in Rome,

(Except immortall Caesar) speaking of Brutus, And groaning vnderneath
this Ages yoake,

Haue wish'd, that Noble Brutus had his eyes

Bru. Into what dangers, would you

Leade me Cassius?

That you would haue me seeke into my selfe, For that which is not in
me?

Cas. Therefore good Brutus, be prepar'd to heare: And since you know,
you cannot see your selfe So well as by Reflection; I your Glasse,

Will modestly discouer to your selfe

That of your selfe, which you yet know not of. And be not iealous on
me, gentle Brutus:

Were I a common Laughter, or did vse

To stale with ordinary Oathes my loue

To euery new Protester: if you know,

That I do fawne on men, and hugge them hard, And after scandall them:
Or if you know,

That I professe my selfe in Banquetting

To all the Rout, then hold me dangerous.

Flourish, and Shout.

Bru. What meanes this Showting?

I do feare, the People choose Caesar

For their King

Cassi. I, do you feare it?

Then must I thinke you would not haue it so

Bru. I would not Cassius, yet I loue him well: But wherefore do you
hold me heere so long? What is it, that you would impart to me?

If it be ought toward the generall good,

Set Honor in one eye, and Death i'th other, And I will looke on both
indifferently:

For let the Gods so speed mee, as I loue

The name of Honor, more then I feare death

Cassi. I know that vertue to be in you Brutus, As well as I do know
your outward fauour. Well, Honor is the subiect of my Story:

I cannot tell, what you and other men

Thinke of this life: But for my single selfe, I had as liefe not be, as
liue to be

In awe of such a Thing, as I my selfe.

I was borne free as Caesar, so were you,

We both haue fed as well, and we can both Endure the Winters cold, as
well as hee.

For once, vpon a Rawe and Gustie day,

The troubled Tyber, chafing with her Shores, Caesar saide to me, Dar'st
thou Cassius now Leape in with me into this angry Flood,

And swim to yonder Point? Vpon the word,

Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bad him follow: so indeed he did.

The Torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it

With lusty Sinewes, throwing it aside,

And stemming it with hearts of Controuersie. But ere we could arriue
the Point propos'd, Caesar cride, Helpe me Cassius, or I sinke. I (as
Aeneas, our great Ancestor,

Did from the Flames of Troy, vpon his shoulder The old Anchyses beare)
so, from the waues of Tyber Did I the tyred Caesar: And this Man,

Is now become a God, and Cassius is

A wretched Creature, and must bend his body, If Caesar carelesly but
nod on him.

He had a Feauer when he was in Spaine,

And when the Fit was on him, I did marke

How he did shake: Tis true, this God did shake, His Coward lippes did
from their colour flye, And that same Eye, whose bend doth awe the
World, Did loose his Lustre: I did heare him grone: I, and that Tongue
of his, that bad the Romans Marke him, and write his Speeches in their
Bookes, Alas, it cried, Giue me some drinke Titinius, As a sicke Girle:
Ye Gods, it doth amaze me, A man of such a feeble temper should

So get the start of the Maiesticke world, And beare the Palme alone.

Shout. Flourish.

Bru. Another generall shout?

I do beleeue, that these applauses are

For some new Honors, that are heap'd on Caesar

Cassi. Why man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus,
and we petty men

Walke vnder his huge legges, and peepe about To finde our selues
dishonourable Graues. Men at sometime, are Masters of their Fates. The
fault (deere Brutus) is not in our Starres, But in our Selues, that we
are vnderlings. Brutus and Caesar: What should be in that Caesar? Why
should that name be sounded more then yours Write them together: Yours,
is as faire a Name: Sound them, it doth become the mouth aswell: Weigh
them, it is as heauy: Coniure with 'em, Brutus will start a Spirit as
soone as Caesar. Now in the names of all the Gods at once, Vpon what
meate doth this our Caesar feede, That he is growne so great? Age, thou
art sham'd. Rome, thou hast lost the breed of Noble Bloods. When went
there by an Age, since the great Flood, But it was fam'd with more then
with one man? When could they say (till now) that talk'd of Rome, That
her wide Walkes incompast but one man? Now is it Rome indeed, and Roome
enough

When there is in it but one onely man.

O! you and I, haue heard our Fathers say, There was a Brutus once, that
would haue brook'd Th' eternall Diuell to keepe his State in Rome, As
easily as a King

Bru. That you do loue me, I am nothing iealous: What you would worke
me too, I haue some ayme: How I haue thought of this, and of these
times I shall recount heereafter. For this present, I would not so
(with loue I might intreat you) Be any further moou'd: What you haue
said, I will consider: what you haue to say

I will with patience heare, and finde a time Both meete to heare, and
answer such high things. Till then, my Noble Friend, chew vpon this:
Brutus had rather be a Villager,

Then to repute himselfe a Sonne of Rome

Vnder these hard Conditions, as this time Is like to lay vpon vs

Cassi. I am glad that my weake words

Haue strucke but thus much shew of fire from Brutus, Enter Caesar and
his Traine.

Bru. The Games are done,

And Caesar is returning

Cassi. As they passe by,

Plucke Caska by the Sleeue,

And he will (after his sowre fashion) tell you What hath proceeded
worthy note to day

Bru. I will do so: but looke you Cassius, The angry spot doth glow
on Caesars brow, And all the rest, looke like a chidden Traine;
Calphurnia's Cheeke is pale, and Cicero

Lookes with such Ferret, and such fiery eyes As we haue seene him in
the Capitoll

Being crost in Conference, by some Senators

Cassi. Caska will tell vs what the matter is

Caes Antonio

Ant. Caesar

Caes Let me haue men about me, that are fat, Sleeke-headed men, and
such as sleepe a-nights: Yond Cassius has a leane and hungry looke, He
thinkes too much: such men are dangerous

Ant. Feare him not Caesar, he's not dangerous, He is a Noble Roman,
and well giuen

Caes Would he were fatter; But I feare him not: Yet if my name were
lyable to feare,

I do not know the man I should auoyd

So soone as that spare Cassius. He reades much, He is a great Obseruer,
and he lookes

Quite through the Deeds of men. He loues no Playes, As thou dost
Antony: he heares no Musicke; Seldome he smiles, and smiles in such a
sort As if he mock'd himselfe, and scorn'd his spirit That could be
mou'd to smile at any thing. Such men as he, be neuer at hearts ease,

Whiles they behold a greater then themselues, And therefore are they
very dangerous.

I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd,

Then what I feare: for alwayes I am Caesar. Come on my right hand, for
this eare is deafe, And tell me truely, what thou think'st of him.

Sennit.

Exeunt. Caesar and his Traine.

Cask. You pul'd me by the cloake, would you speake with me?

Bru. I Caska, tell vs what hath chanc'd to day That Caesar lookes so
sad

Cask. Why you were with him, were you not?   Bru. I should not then
aske Caska what had chanc'd

Cask. Why there was a Crowne offer'd him; & being offer'd him, he
put it by with the backe of his hand thus, and then the people fell a
shouting

Bru. What was the second noyse for?

Cask. Why for that too

Cassi. They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for?   Cask. Why
for that too

Bru. Was the Crowne offer'd him thrice?   Cask. I marry was't, and
hee put it by thrice, euerie time gentler then other; and at euery
putting by, mine honest Neighbors showted

Cassi. Who offer'd him the Crowne?

Cask. Why Antony

Bru. Tell vs the manner of it, gentle Caska

Caska. I can as well bee hang'd as tell the manner of it: It was
meere Foolerie, I did not marke it. I sawe Marke Antony offer him a
Crowne, yet 'twas not a Crowne neyther, 'twas one of these Coronets:
and as I told you, hee put it by once: but for all that, to my
thinking, he would faine haue had it. Then hee offered it to him
againe: then hee put it by againe: but to my thinking, he was very
loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time;
hee put it the third time by, and still as hee refus'd it, the
rabblement howted, and clapp'd their chopt hands, and threw vppe their
sweatie Night-cappes, and vttered such a deale of stinking breath,
because Caesar refus'd the Crowne, that it had (almost) choaked Caesar:
for hee swoonded, and fell downe at it: And for mine owne part, I durst
not laugh, for feare of opening my Lippes, and receyuing the bad Ayre

Cassi. But soft I pray you: what, did Caesar swound?   Cask. He fell
downe in the Market-place, and foam'd at mouth, and was speechlesse

Brut. 'Tis very like he hath the Falling sicknesse

Cassi. No, Caesar hath it not: but you, and I, And honest Caska, we
haue the Falling sicknesse

Cask. I know not what you meane by that, but I am sure Caesar fell
downe. If the tag-ragge people did not clap him, and hisse him,
according as he pleas'd, and displeas'd them, as they vse to doe the
Players in the Theatre, I am no true man

Brut. What said he, when he came vnto himselfe?   Cask. Marry,
before he fell downe, when he perceiu'd the common Heard was glad he
refus'd the Crowne, he pluckt me ope his Doublet, and offer'd them his
Throat to cut: and I had beene a man of any Occupation, if I would not
haue taken him at a word, I would I might goe to Hell among the Rogues,
and so hee fell. When he came to himselfe againe, hee said, If hee had
done, or said any thing amisse, he desir'd their Worships to thinke it
was his infirmitie. Three or foure Wenches where I stood, cryed, Alasse
good Soule, and forgaue him with all their hearts: But there's no heed
to be taken of them; if Caesar had stab'd their Mothers, they would
haue done no lesse

Brut. And after that, he came thus sad away

Cask. I

Cassi. Did Cicero say any thing?

Cask. I, he spoke Greeke

Cassi. To what effect?

Cask. Nay, and I tell you that, Ile ne're looke you i'th' face
againe. But those that vnderstood him, smil'd at one another, and
shooke their heads: but for mine owne part, it was Greeke to me. I
could tell you more newes too: Murrellus and Flauius, for pulling
Scarffes off Caesars Images, are put to silence. Fare you well. There
was more Foolerie yet, if I could remember it

Cassi. Will you suppe with me to Night, Caska?   Cask. No, I am
promis'd forth

Cassi. Will you Dine with me to morrow?   Cask. I, if I be aliue,
and your minde hold, and your Dinner worth the eating

Cassi. Good, I will expect you

Cask. Doe so: farewell both.

Enter.

Brut. What a blunt fellow is this growne to be? He was quick Mettle,
when he went to Schoole

Cassi. So is he now, in execution

Of any bold, or Noble Enterprize,

How-euer he puts on this tardie forme:

This Rudenesse is a Sawce to his good Wit, Which giues men stomacke to
disgest his words With better Appetite

Brut. And so it is:

For this time I will leaue you:

To morrow, if you please to speake with me, I will come home to you: or
if you will,

Come home to me, and I will wait for you

Cassi. I will doe so: till then, thinke of the World. Exit Brutus.

Well Brutus, thou art Noble: yet I see,

Thy Honorable Mettle may be wrought

From that it is dispos'd: therefore it is meet, That Noble mindes keepe
euer with their likes: For who so firme, that cannot be seduc'd? Caesar
doth beare me hard, but he loues Brutus. If I were Brutus now, and he
were Cassius, He should not humor me. I will this Night, In seuerall
Hands, in at his Windowes throw, As if they came from seuerall
Citizens,

Writings, all tending to the great opinion That Rome holds of his Name:
wherein obscurely Caesars Ambition shall be glanced at.

And after this, let Caesar seat him sure, For wee will shake him, or
worse dayes endure. Enter.

Thunder, and Lightning. Enter Caska, and Cicero.

Cic. Good euen, Caska: brought you Caesar home? Why are you
breathlesse, and why stare you so?   Cask. Are not you mou'd, when all
the sway of Earth Shakes, like a thing vnfirme? O Cicero,

I haue seene Tempests, when the scolding Winds Haue riu'd the knottie
Oakes, and I haue seene Th' ambitious Ocean swell, and rage, and foame,
To be exalted with the threatning Clouds: But neuer till to Night,
neuer till now,

Did I goe through a Tempest-dropping-fire. Eyther there is a Ciuill
strife in Heauen, Or else the World, too sawcie with the Gods, Incenses
them to send destruction

Cic. Why, saw you any thing more wonderfull?   Cask. A common slaue,
you know him well by sight, Held vp his left Hand, which did flame and
burne Like twentie Torches ioyn'd; and yet his Hand, Not sensible of
fire, remain'd vnscorch'd. Besides, I ha' not since put vp my Sword,
Against the Capitoll I met a Lyon,

Who glaz'd vpon me, and went surly by,

Without annoying me. And there were drawne Vpon a heape, a hundred
gastly Women,

Transformed with their feare, who swore, they saw Men, all in fire,
walke vp and downe the streetes. And yesterday, the Bird of Night did
sit, Euen at Noone-day, vpon the Market place, Howting, and shreeking.
When these Prodigies Doe so conioyntly meet, let not men say,

These are their Reasons, they are Naturall: For I beleeue, they are
portentous things Vnto the Clymate, that they point vpon

Cic. Indeed, it is a strange disposed time: But men may construe
things after their fashion, Cleane from the purpose of the things
themselues. Comes Caesar to the Capitoll to morrow?

Cask. He doth: for he did bid Antonio

Send word to you, he would be there to morrow

Cic. Good-night then, Caska:

This disturbed Skie is not to walke in

Cask. Farewell Cicero.

Exit Cicero.

Enter Cassius.

Cassi. Who's there?

Cask. A Romane

Cassi. Caska, by your Voyce

Cask. Your Eare is good.

Cassius, what Night is this?

Cassi. A very pleasing Night to honest men

Cask. Who euer knew the Heauens menace so?   Cassi. Those that haue
knowne the Earth so full of faults.

For my part, I haue walk'd about the streets, Submitting me vnto the
perillous Night;

And thus vnbraced, Caska, as you see,

Haue bar'd my Bosome to the Thunder-stone: And when the crosse blew
Lightning seem'd to open The Brest of Heauen, I did present my selfe
Euen in the ayme, and very flash of it

Cask. But wherefore did you so much tempt the Heauens? It is the
part of men, to feare and tremble, When the most mightie Gods, by
tokens send Such dreadfull Heraulds, to astonish vs

Cassi. You are dull, Caska:

And those sparkes of Life, that should be in a Roman, You doe want, or
else you vse not.

You looke pale, and gaze, and put on feare, And cast your selfe in
wonder,

To see the strange impatience of the Heauens: But if you would consider
the true cause, Why all these Fires, why all these gliding Ghosts, Why
Birds and Beasts, from qualitie and kinde, Why Old men, Fooles, and
Children calculate, Why all these things change from their Ordinance,
Their Natures, and pre-formed Faculties,

To monstrous qualitie; why you shall finde, That Heauen hath infus'd
them with these Spirits, To make them Instruments of feare, and
warning, Vnto some monstrous State.

Now could I (Caska) name to thee a man,

Most like this dreadfull Night,

That Thunders, Lightens, opens Graues, and roares, As doth the Lyon in
the Capitoll:

A man no mightier then thy selfe, or me,

In personall action; yet prodigious growne, And fearefull, as these
strange eruptions are

Cask. 'Tis Caesar that you meane:

Is it not, Cassius?

Cassi. Let it be who it is: for Romans now Haue Thewes, and Limbes,
like to their Ancestors; But woe the while, our Fathers mindes are
dead, And we are gouern'd with our Mothers spirits, Our yoake, and
sufferance, shew vs Womanish

Cask. Indeed, they say, the Senators to morrow Meane to establish
Caesar as a King:

And he shall weare his Crowne by Sea, and Land, In euery place, saue
here in Italy

Cassi. I know where I will weare this Dagger then; Cassius from
Bondage will deliuer Cassius: Therein, yee Gods, you make the weake
most strong; Therein, yee Gods, you Tyrants doe defeat. Nor Stonie
Tower, nor Walls of beaten Brasse, Nor ayre-lesse Dungeon, nor strong
Linkes of Iron, Can be retentiue to the strength of spirit: But Life
being wearie of these worldly Barres, Neuer lacks power to dismisse it
selfe.

If I know this, know all the World besides, That part of Tyrannie that
I doe beare,

I can shake off at pleasure.

Thunder still.

Cask. So can I:

So euery Bond-man in his owne hand beares The power to cancell his
Captiuitie

Cassi. And why should Csar be a Tyrant then? Poore man, I know he
would not be a Wolfe, But that he sees the Romans are but Sheepe: He
were no Lyon, were not Romans Hindes.

Those that with haste will make a mightie fire, Begin it with weake
Strawes. What trash is Rome? What Rubbish, and what Offall? when it
serues For the base matter, to illuminate

So vile a thing as Caesar. But oh Griefe, Where hast thou led me? I
(perhaps) speake this Before a willing Bond-man: then I know

My answere must be made. But I am arm'd,

And dangers are to me indifferent

Cask. You speake to Caska, and to such a man, That is no flearing
Tell-tale. Hold, my Hand: Be factious for redresse of all these
Griefes, And I will set this foot of mine as farre, As who goes
farthest

Cassi. There's a Bargaine made.

Now know you, Caska, I haue mou'd already Some certaine of the Noblest
minded Romans To vnder-goe, with me, an Enterprize,

Of Honorable dangerous consequence;

And I doe know by this, they stay for me

In Pompeyes Porch: for now this fearefull Night, There is no stirre, or
walking in the streetes; And the Complexion of the Element

Is Fauors, like the Worke we haue in hand, Most bloodie, fierie, and
most terrible.

Enter Cinna.

Caska. Stand close a while, for heere comes one in haste

Cassi. 'Tis Cinna, I doe know him by his Gate, He is a friend.
Cinna, where haste you so?   Cinna. To finde out you: Who's that,
Metellus Cymber?

Cassi. No, it is Caska, one incorporate To our Attempts. Am I not
stay'd for, Cinna?   Cinna. I am glad on't.

What a fearefull Night is this?

There's two or three of vs haue seene strange sights

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

Cinna. Yes, you are. O Cassius,

If you could but winne the Noble Brutus

To our party-

Cassi. Be you content. Good Cinna, take this Paper, And looke you lay
it in the Pretors Chayre, Where Brutus may but finde it: and throw this
In at his Window; set this vp with Waxe

Vpon old Brutus Statue: all this done,

Repaire to Pompeyes Porch, where you shall finde vs. Is Decius Brutus
and Trebonius there?

Cinna. All, but Metellus Cymber, and hee's gone To seeke you at your
house. Well, I will hie, And so bestow these Papers as you bad me

Cassi. That done, repayre to Pompeyes Theater.

Exit Cinna.

Come Caska, you and I will yet, ere day,

See Brutus at his house: three parts of him Is ours alreadie, and the
man entire

Vpon the next encounter, yeelds him ours

Cask. O, he sits high in all the Peoples hearts: And that which
would appeare Offence in vs, His Countenance, like richest Alchymie,

Will change to Vertue, and to Worthinesse

Cassi. Him, and his worth, and our great need of him, You haue right
well conceited: let vs goe, For it is after Mid-night, and ere day,

We will awake him, and be sure of him.

Exeunt.



Actus Secundus.

Enter Brutus in his Orchard.

Brut. What Lucius, hoe?

I cannot, by the progresse of the Starres, Giue guesse how neere to
day- Lucius, I say? I would it were my fault to sleepe so soundly. When
Lucius, when? awake, I say: what Lucius? Enter Lucius.

Luc. Call'd you, my Lord?

Brut. Get me a Tapor in my Study, Lucius: When it is lighted, come
and call me here

Luc. I will, my Lord.

Enter.

Brut. It must be by his death: and for my part, I know no personall
cause, to spurne at him, But for the generall. 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 craues warie walking: Crowne
him that, And then I graunt we put a Sting in him,

That at his will he may doe danger with.

Th' abuse of Greatnesse, is, when it dis-ioynes Remorse from Power: And
to speake truth of Caesar, I haue not knowne, when his Affections
sway'd More then his Reason. But 'tis a common proofe, That Lowlynesse
is young Ambitions Ladder, Whereto the Climber vpward turnes his Face:
But when he once attaines the vpmost Round, He then vnto the Ladder
turnes his Backe, Lookes in the Clouds, scorning the base degrees By
which he did ascend: so Caesar may;

Then least he may, preuent. And since the Quarrell Will beare no
colour, for the thing he is, Fashion it thus; that what he is,
augmented, Would runne to these, and these extremities: And therefore
thinke him as a Serpents egge, Which hatch'd, would as his kinde grow
mischieuous; And kill him in the shell.

Enter Lucius.

Luc. The Taper burneth in your Closet, Sir: Searching the Window for
a Flint, I found This Paper, thus seal'd vp, and I am sure It did not
lye there when I went to Bed.

Giues him the Letter.

Brut. Get you to Bed againe, it is not day: Is not to morrow (Boy)
the first of March?   Luc. I know not, Sir

Brut. Looke in the Calender, and bring me word

Luc. I will, Sir.

Enter.

Brut. The exhalations, whizzing in the ayre, Giue so much light, that
I may reade by them.

Opens the Letter, and reades.

Brutus thou sleep'st; awake, and see thy selfe: Shall Rome, &c. speake,
strike, redresse. Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake.

Such instigations haue beene often dropt, Where I haue tooke them vp:

Shall Rome, &c. Thus must I piece it out: Shall Rome stand vnder one
mans awe? What Rome? My Ancestors did from the streetes of Rome The
Tarquin driue, when he was call'd a King. Speake, strike, redresse. Am
I entreated

To speake, and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise, If the redresse
will follow, thou receiuest Thy full Petition at the hand of Brutus.

Enter Lucius.

Luc. Sir, March is wasted fifteene dayes.

Knocke within.

Brut. 'Tis good. Go to the Gate, some body knocks: Since Cassius
first did whet me against Caesar, I haue not slept.

Betweene the acting of a dreadfull thing, And the first motion, all the
Interim is

Like a Phantasma, or a hideous Dreame:

The Genius, and the mortall Instruments

Are then in councell; and the state of a man, Like to a little
Kingdome, suffers then

The nature of an Insurrection.

Enter Lucius.

Luc. Sir, 'tis your Brother Cassius at the Doore, Who doth desire to
see you

Brut. Is he alone?

Luc. No, Sir, there are moe with him

Brut. Doe you know them?

Luc. No, Sir, their Hats are pluckt about their Eares, And halfe
their Faces buried in their Cloakes, That by no meanes I may discouer
them,

By any marke of fauour

Brut. Let 'em enter:

They are the Faction. O Conspiracie,

Sham'st thou to shew thy dang'rous Brow by Night, When euills are most
free? O then, by day Where wilt thou finde a Cauerne darke enough, To
maske thy monstrous Visage? Seek none Conspiracie, Hide it in Smiles,
and Affabilitie:

For if thou path thy natiue semblance on, Not Erebus it selfe were
dimme enough,

To hide thee from preuention.

Enter the Conspirators, Cassius, Caska, Decius, Cinna, Metellus, and

Trebonius.

Cass. I thinke we are too bold vpon your Rest: Good morrow Brutus,
doe we trouble you?

Brut. I haue beene vp this howre, awake all Night: Know I these men,
that come along with you?   Cass. Yes, euery man of them; and no man
here But honors you: and euery one doth wish,

You had but that opinion of your selfe,

Which euery Noble Roman beares of you.

This is Trebonius

Brut. He is welcome hither

Cass. This, Decius Brutus

Brut. He is welcome too

Cass. This, Caska; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cymber

Brut. They are all welcome.

What watchfull Cares doe interpose themselues Betwixt your Eyes, and
Night?

Cass. Shall I entreat a word?

They whisper.

Decius. Here lyes the East: doth not the Day breake heere?

Cask. No

Cin. O pardon, Sir, it doth; and yon grey Lines, That fret the
Clouds, are Messengers of Day

Cask. You shall confesse, that you are both deceiu'd: Heere, as I
point my Sword, the Sunne arises, Which is a great way growing on the
South, Weighing the youthfull Season of the yeare. Some two moneths
hence, vp higher toward the North He first presents his fire, and the
high East Stands as the Capitoll, directly heere

Bru. Giue me your hands all ouer, one by one

Cas. And let vs sweare our Resolution

Brut. No, not an Oath: if not the Face of men, The sufferance of our
Soules, the times Abuse; If these be Motiues weake, breake off betimes,
And euery 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)
beare fire enough

To kindle Cowards, and to steele with valour The melting Spirits of
women. Then Countrymen, What neede we any spurre, but our owne cause To
pricke vs to redresse? What other Bond, Then secret Romans, that haue
spoke the word, And will not palter? And what other Oath, Then Honesty
to Honesty ingag'd,

That this shall be, or we will fall for it. Sweare Priests and Cowards,
and men Cautelous Old feeble Carrions, and such suffering Soules That
welcome wrongs: Vnto bad causes, sweare Such Creatures as men doubt;
but do not staine The euen vertue of our Enterprize,

Nor th' insuppressiue Mettle of our Spirits, To thinke, that or our
Cause, or our Performance Did neede an Oath. When euery drop of blood
That euery Roman beares, and Nobly beares Is guilty of a seuerall
Bastardie,

If he do breake the smallest Particle

Of any promise that hath past from him

Cas. But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him? I thinke he will stand
very strong with vs

Cask. Let vs not leaue him out

Cyn. No, by no meanes

Metel. O let vs haue him, for his Siluer haires Will purchase vs a
good opinion:

And buy mens voyces, to commend our deeds: It shall be sayd, his
iudgement rul'd our hands, Our youths, and wildenesse, shall no whit
appeare, But all be buried in his Grauity

Bru. O name him not; let vs not breake with him, For he will neuer
follow any thing

That other men begin

Cas. Then leaue him out

Cask. Indeed, he is not fit

Decius. Shall no man else be toucht, but onely Caesar?   Cas. Decius
well vrg'd: I thinke it is not meet, Marke Antony, so well belou'd of
Caesar,

Should out-liue Caesar, we shall finde of him A shrew'd Contriuer. And
you know, his meanes If he improue them, may well stretch so farre As
to annoy vs all: which to preuent,

Let Antony and Caesar fall together

Bru. Our course will seeme too bloody, Caius Cassius, To cut the
Head off, and then hacke the Limbes: Like Wrath in death, and Enuy
afterwards: For Antony, is but a Limbe of Caesar.

Let's be Sacrificers, but not Butchers Caius: We all stand vp against
the spirit of Caesar, And in the Spirit of men, there is no blood: O
that we then could come by Caesars 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 carue him, as a Dish fit for the Gods, Not
hew him as a Carkasse fit for Hounds: And let our Hearts, as subtle
Masters do, Stirre vp their Seruants to an acte of Rage, And after
seeme to chide 'em. This shall make Our purpose Necessary, and not
Enuious.

Which so appearing to the common eyes,

We shall be call'd Purgers, not Murderers. And for Marke Antony, thinke
not of him:

For he can do no more then Caesars Arme,

When Caesars head is off

Cas. Yet I feare him,

For in the ingrafted loue he beares to Caesar

Bru. Alas, good Cassius, do not thinke of him: If he loue Caesar,
all that he can do

Is to himselfe; take thought, and dye for Caesar, And that were much he
should: for he is giuen To sports, to wildenesse, and much company

Treb. There is no feare in him; let him not dye, For he will liue,
and laugh at this heereafter.

Clocke strikes.

Bru. Peace, count the Clocke

Cas. The Clocke hath stricken three

Treb. 'Tis time to part

Cass. But it is doubtfull yet,

Whether Caesar will come forth to day, or no: For he is Superstitious
growne of late,

Quite from the maine Opinion he held once, Of Fantasie, of Dreames, and
Ceremonies:

It may be, these apparant Prodigies,

The vnaccustom'd Terror of this night,

And the perswasion of his Augurers,

May hold him from the Capitoll to day

Decius. Neuer feare that: If he be so resolu'd, I can ore-sway him:
For he loues to heare, That Vnicornes may be betray'd with Trees, And
Beares with Glasses, Elephants with Holes, Lyons with Toyles, and men
with Flatterers. But, when I tell him, he hates Flatterers, He sayes,
he does; being then most flattered. Let me worke:

For I can giue his humour the true bent;

And I will bring him to the Capitoll

Cas. Nay, we will all of vs, be there to fetch him

Bru. By the eight houre, is that the vttermost?   Cin. Be that the
vttermost, and faile not then

Met. Caius Ligarius doth beare Caesar hard, Who rated him for
speaking well of Pompey; I wonder none of you haue thought of him

Bru. Now good Metellus go along by him: He loues me well, and I haue
giuen him Reasons, Send him but hither, and Ile fashion him

Cas. The morning comes vpon's:

Wee'l leaue you Brutus,

And Friends disperse your selues; but all remember What you haue said,
and shew your selues true Romans

Bru. Good Gentlemen, looke fresh and merrily, Let not our lookes put
on our purposes,

But beare it as our Roman Actors do,

With vntyr'd Spirits, and formall Constancie, And so good morrow to you
euery one.

Exeunt.

Manet Brutus.

Boy: Lucius: Fast asleepe? It is no matter, Enioy the hony-heauy-Dew of
Slumber:

Thou hast no Figures, nor no Fantasies,

Which busie care drawes, in the braines of men; Therefore thou sleep'st
so sound.

Enter Portia.

Por. Brutus, my Lord

Bru. Portia: What meane you? wherfore rise you now? It is not for
your health, thus to commit Your weake condition, to the raw cold
morning

Por. Nor for yours neither. Y'haue vngently Brutus Stole from my
bed: and yesternight at Supper You sodainly arose, and walk'd about,

Musing, and sighing, with your armes acrosse And when I ask'd you what
the matter was, You star'd vpon me, with vngentle lookes. I vrg'd you
further, then you scratch'd your head, And too impatiently stampt with
your foote: Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not,

But with an angry wafter of your hand

Gaue signe for me to leaue you: So I did, Fearing to strengthen that
impatience

Which seem'd too much inkindled; and withall, Hoping it was but an
effect of Humor,

Which sometime hath his houre with euery man. It will not let you eate,
nor talke, nor sleepe; And could it worke so much vpon your shape, As
it hath much preuayl'd on your Condition, I should not know you Brutus.
Deare my Lord, Make me acquainted with your cause of greefe

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

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

Bru. Why so I do: good Portia go to bed

Por. Is Brutus sicke? And is it Physicall To walke vnbraced, and
sucke vp the humours Of the danke Morning? What, is Brutus sicke? And
will he steale out of his wholsome bed To dare the vile contagion of
the Night?

And tempt the Rhewmy, and vnpurged Ayre,

To adde vnto his sicknesse? No my Brutus, You haue some sicke Offence
within your minde, Which by the Right and Vertue of my place I ought to
know of: And vpon my knees,

I charme you, by my once commended Beauty, By all your vowes of Loue,
and that great Vow Which did incorporate and make vs one,

That you vnfold to me, your selfe; your halfe Why you are heauy: and
what men to night

Haue had resort to you: for heere haue beene Some sixe or seuen, who
did hide their faces Euen from darknesse

Bru. Kneele not gentle Portia

Por. I should not neede, if you were gentle Brutus. Within the Bond
of Marriage, tell me Brutus, Is it excepted, I should know no Secrets

That appertaine to you? Am I your Selfe,

But as it were in sort, or limitation?

To keepe with you at Meales, comfort your Bed, And talke 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

Bru. You are my true and honourable Wife, As deere to me, as are the
ruddy droppes

That visit my sad heart

Por. If this were true, then should I know this secret. I graunt I
am a Woman; but withall,

A Woman that Lord Brutus tooke to Wife:

I graunt I am a Woman; but withall,

A Woman well reputed: Cato's Daughter.

Thinke you, I am no stronger then my Sex

Being so Father'd, and so Husbanded?

Tell me your Counsels, I will not disclose 'em: I haue made strong
proofe of my Constancie, Giuing my selfe a voluntary wound

Heere, in the Thigh: Can I beare that with patience, And not my
Husbands Secrets?

Bru. O ye Gods!

Render me worthy of this Noble Wife.

Knocke.

Harke, harke, one knockes: Portia go in a while, And by and by thy
bosome shall partake

The secrets of my Heart.

All my engagements, I will construe to thee, All the Charractery of my
sad browes:

Leaue me with hast.

Exit Portia.

Enter Lucius and Ligarius.

Lucius, who's that knockes

Luc. Heere is a sicke man that would speak with you

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

Cai. Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue

Bru. O what a time haue you chose out braue Caius To weare a
Kerchiefe? Would you were not sicke

Cai. I am not sicke, if Brutus haue in hand Any exploit worthy the
name of Honor

Bru. Such an exploit haue I in hand Ligarius, Had you a healthfull
eare to heare of it

Cai. By all the Gods that Romans bow before, I heere discard my
sicknesse. Soule of Rome, Braue Sonne, deriu'd from Honourable Loines,
Thou like an Exorcist, hast coniur'd vp

My mortified Spirit. Now bid me runne,

And I will striue with things impossible, Yea get the better of them.
What's to do?   Bru. A peece of worke,

That will make sicke men whole

Cai. But are not some whole, that we must make sicke?   Bru. That
must we also. What it is my Caius, I shall vnfold to thee, as we are
going,

To whom it must be done

Cai. Set on your foote,

And with a heart new-fir'd, I follow you, To do I know not what: but it
sufficeth

That Brutus leads me on.

Thunder

Bru. Follow me then.

Exeunt.

Thunder & Lightning

Enter Iulius Caesar in his Night-gowne.

Caesar. Nor Heauen, nor Earth,

Haue beene at peace to night:

Thrice hath Calphurnia, in her sleepe cryed out, Helpe, ho: They
murther Caesar. Who's within? Enter a Seruant.

Ser. My Lord

Caes Go bid the Priests do present Sacrifice, And bring me their
opinions of Successe

Ser. I will my Lord.

Exit

Enter Calphurnia.

Cal. What mean you Caesar? Think you to walk forth? You shall not
stirre out of your house to day

Caes Caesar shall forth; the things that threaten'd me, Ne're look'd
but on my backe: When they shall see The face of Caesar, they are
vanished

Calp. Caesar, I neuer stood on Ceremonies, Yet now they fright me:
There is one within, Besides the things that we haue heard and seene,
Recounts most horrid sights seene by the Watch. A Lionnesse hath
whelped in the streets,

And Graues haue yawn'd, and yeelded vp their dead; Fierce fiery
Warriours fight vpon the Clouds In Rankes and Squadrons, and right
forme of Warre Which drizel'd blood vpon the Capitoll:

The noise of Battell hurtled in the Ayre: Horsses do neigh, and dying
men did grone, And Ghosts did shrieke and squeale about the streets. O
Caesar, these things are beyond all vse, And I do feare them

Caes What can be auoyded

Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty Gods? Yet Caesar shall go forth:
for these Predictions Are to the world in generall, as to Caesar

Calp. When Beggers dye, there are no Comets seen, The Heauens
themselues blaze forth the death of Princes   Caes Cowards dye many
times before their deaths, The valiant neuer taste of death but once:
Of all the Wonders that I yet haue heard, It seemes to me most strange
that men should feare, Seeing that death, a necessary end

Will come, when it will come.

Enter a Seruant.

What say the Augurers?

Ser. They would not haue you to stirre forth to day. Plucking the
intrailes of an Offering forth, They could not finde a heart within the
beast

Caes 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 feare: No Caesar shall not; Danger
knowes full well That Caesar is more dangerous then he.

We heare two Lyons litter'd in one day,

And I the elder and more terrible,

And Caesar shall go foorth

Calp. Alas my Lord,

Your wisedome is consum'd in confidence:

Do not go forth to day: Call it my feare, That keepes you in the house,
and not your owne. Wee'l send Mark Antony to the Senate house, And he
shall say, you are not well to day: Let me vpon my knee, preuaile in
this

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

Enter Decius.

Heere's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so

Deci. Caesar, all haile: Good morrow worthy Caesar, I come to fetch
you to the Senate house

Caes And you are come in very happy time, To beare 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

Calp. Say he is sicke

Caes Shall Caesar send a Lye?

Haue I in Conquest stretcht mine Arme so farre, To be afear'd to tell
Gray-beards the truth: Decius, go tell them, Caesar will not come

Deci. Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause, Lest I be laught
at when I tell them so

Caes The cause is in my Will, I will not come, That is enough to
satisfie the Senate.

But for your priuate satisfaction,

Because I loue you, I will let you know.

Calphurnia heere my wife, stayes me at home: She dreampt to night, she
saw my Statue,

Which like a Fountaine, with an hundred spouts Did run pure blood: and
many lusty Romans Came smiling, & did bathe their hands in it: And
these does she apply, for warnings and portents, And euils imminent;
and on her knee

Hath begg'd, that I will stay at home to day

Deci. This Dreame is all amisse interpreted, It was a vision, faire
and fortunate:

Your Statue spouting blood in many pipes, In which so many smiling
Romans bath'd,

Signifies, that from you great Rome shall sucke Reuiuing blood, and
that great men shall presse For Tinctures, Staines, Reliques, and
Cognisance. This by Calphurnia's Dreame is signified

Caes And this way haue you well expounded it

Deci. I haue, when you haue heard what I can say: And know it now,
the Senate haue concluded To giue this day, a Crowne to mighty Caesar.
If you shall send them word you will not come, Their mindes may change.
Besides, it were a mocke Apt to be render'd, for some one to say,

Breake vp the Senate, till another time:

When Caesars wife shall meete with better Dreames. If Caesar hide
himselfe, shall they not whisper Loe Caesar is affraid?

Pardon me Caesar, for my deere deere loue To your proceeding, bids me
tell you this: And reason to my loue is liable

Caes How foolish do your fears seeme now Calphurnia? I am ashamed I
did yeeld to them.

Giue me my Robe, for I will go.

Enter Brutus, Ligarius, Metellus, Caska, Trebonius, Cynna, and
Publius.

And looke where Publius is come to fetch me

Pub. Good morrow Caesar

Caes Welcome Publius.

What Brutus, are you stirr'd so earely too? Good morrow Caska: Caius
Ligarius,

Caesar was ne're so much your enemy,

As that same Ague which hath made you leane. What is't a Clocke?

Bru. Caesar, 'tis strucken eight

Caes I thanke you for your paines and curtesie. Enter Antony.

See, Antony that Reuels long a-nights

Is notwithstanding vp. Good morrow Antony

Ant. So to most Noble Caesar

Caes Bid them prepare within:

I am too blame to be thus waited for.

Now Cynna, now Metellus: what Trebonius,

I haue an houres talke in store for you:

Remember that you call on me to day:

Be neere me, that I may remember you

Treb. Caesar I will: and so neere will I be, That your best Friends
shall wish I had beene further

Caes Good Friends go in, and taste some wine with me. And we (like
Friends) will straight way go together

Bru. That euery like is not the same, O Caesar, The heart of Brutus
earnes to thinke vpon.

Exeunt.

Enter Artemidorus.

Caesar, beware of Brutus, take heede of Cassius; come not neere Caska,
haue an eye to Cynna, trust not Trebonius, marke well Metellus Cymber,
Decius Brutus loues thee not: Thou hast wrong'd Caius Ligarius. There
is but one minde in all these men, and it is bent against Caesar: If
thou beest not Immortall,

looke about you: Security giues way to Conspiracie. The mighty Gods
defend thee.

Thy Louer, Artemidorus.

Heere will I stand, till Caesar passe along, And as a Sutor will I giue
him this:

My heart laments, that Vertue cannot liue Out of the teeth of
Emulation.

If thou reade this, O Caesar, thou mayest liue; If not, the Fates with
Traitors do contriue. Enter.

Enter Portia and Lucius.

Por. I prythee Boy, run to the Senate-house, Stay not to answer me,
but get thee gone. Why doest thou stay?

Luc. To know my errand Madam

Por. I would haue had thee there and heere agen Ere I can tell thee
what thou should'st do there: O Constancie, be strong vpon my side,

Set a huge Mountaine 'tweene my Heart and Tongue: I haue a mans minde,
but a womans might:

How hard it is for women to keepe counsell. Art thou heere yet?

Luc. Madam, what should I do?

Run to the Capitoll, and nothing else?

And so returne to you, and nothing else?

Por. Yes, bring me word Boy, if thy Lord look well, For he went
sickly forth: and take good note What Caesar doth, what Sutors presse
to him. Hearke Boy, what noyse is that?

Luc. I heare none Madam

Por. Prythee listen well:

I heard a bussling Rumor like a Fray,

And the winde brings it from the Capitoll

Luc. Sooth Madam, I heare nothing.

Enter the Soothsayer.

Por. Come hither Fellow, which way hast thou bin?   Sooth. At mine
owne house, good Lady

Por. What is't a clocke?

Sooth. About the ninth houre Lady

Por. Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitoll?   Sooth. Madam not yet, I
go to take my stand, To see him passe on to the Capitoll

Por. Thou hast some suite to Caesar, hast thou not?   Sooth. That I
haue Lady, if it will please Caesar To be so good to Caesar, as to
heare me:

I shall beseech him to befriend himselfe

Por. Why know'st thou any harme's intended towards him?

Sooth. None that I know will be,

Much that I feare may chance:

Good morrow to you: heere the street is narrow: The throng that
followes Caesar at the heeles, Of Senators, of Praetors, common
Sutors,

Will crowd a feeble man (almost) to death: Ile get me to a place more
voyd, and there Speake to great Caesar as he comes along.

Exit

Por. I must go in:

Aye me! How weake a thing

The heart of woman is? O Brutus,

The Heauens speede thee in thine enterprize. Sure the Boy heard me:
Brutus hath a suite That Caesar will not grant. O, I grow faint: Run
Lucius, and commend me to my Lord,

Say I am merry; Come to me againe,

And bring me word what he doth say to thee.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius.

Flourish

Enter Caesar, Brutus, Cassius, Caska, Decius, Metellus, Trebonius,
Cynna,

Antony, Lepidus, Artimedorus, Publius, and the Soothsayer.

Caes The Ides of March are come

Sooth. I Caesar, but not gone

Art. Haile Caesar: Read this Scedule

Deci. Trebonius doth desire you to ore-read (At your best leysure)
this his humble suite

Art. O Caesar, reade mine first: for mine's a suite That touches
Caesar neerer. Read it great Caesar

Caes What touches vs our selfe, shall be last seru'd

Art. Delay not Caesar, read it instantly

Caes What, is the fellow mad?

Pub. Sirra, giue place

Cassi. What, vrge you your Petitions in the street? Come to the
Capitoll

Popil. I wish your enterprize to day may thriue

Cassi. What enterprize Popillius?

Popil. Fare you well

Bru. What said Popillius Lena?

Cassi. He wisht to day our enterprize might thriue: I feare our
purpose is discouered

Bru. Looke how he makes to Caesar: marke him

Cassi. Caska be sodaine, for we feare preuention. Brutus what shall
be done? If this be knowne, Cassius or Caesar neuer shall turne backe,
For I will slay my selfe

Bru. Cassius be constant:

Popillius Lena speakes not of our purposes, For looke he smiles, and
Caesar doth not change

Cassi. Trebonius knowes his time: for look you Brutus He drawes Mark
Antony out of the way

Deci. Where is Metellus Cimber, let him go, And presently preferre
his suite to Caesar

Bru. He is addrest: presse neere, and second him

Cin. Caska, you are the first that reares your hand

Caes Are we all ready? What is now amisse, That Caesar and his
Senate must redresse?   Metel. Most high, most mighty, and most puisant
Caesar Metellus Cymber throwes before thy Seate

An humble heart

Caes I must preuent thee Cymber:

These couchings, and these lowly courtesies Might fire the blood of
ordinary men,

And turne pre-Ordinance, and first Decree Into the lane of Children. Be
not fond,

To thinke that Caesar beares such Rebell blood That will be thaw'd from
the true quality With that which melteth Fooles, I meane sweet words,
Low-crooked-curtsies, and base Spaniell fawning: Thy Brother by decree
is banished:

If thou doest bend, and pray, and fawne for him, I spurne thee like a
Curre out of my way: Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause
Will he be satisfied

Metel. Is there no voyce more worthy then my owne, To sound more
sweetly in great Caesars eare, For the repealing of my banish'd
Brother?   Bru. I kisse thy hand, but not in flattery Caesar: Desiring
thee, that Publius Cymber may

Haue an immediate freedome of repeale

Caes What Brutus?

Cassi. Pardon Caesar: Caesar pardon:

As lowe as to thy foote doth Cassius fall, To begge infranchisement for
Publius Cymber

Caes I could be well mou'd, if I were as you, If I could pray to
mooue, Prayers would mooue me: But I am constant as the Northerne
Starre, Of whose true fixt, and resting quality,

There is no fellow in the Firmament.

The Skies are painted with vnnumbred sparkes, They are all Fire, and
euery 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 apprehensiue; Yet in the number, I do know but One

That vnassayleable holds on his Ranke,

Vnshak'd of Motion: and that I am he,

Let me a little shew it, euen in this:

That I was constant Cymber should be banish'd, And constant do remaine
to keepe him so

Cinna. O Caesar

Caes Hence: Wilt thou lift vp Olympus?   Decius. Great Caesar

Caes Doth not Brutus bootlesse kneele?   Cask. Speake hands for me.

They stab Caesar.

Caes Et Tu Brute? - Then fall Caesar.

Dyes

Cin. Liberty, Freedome; Tyranny is dead, Run hence, proclaime, cry it
about the Streets

Cassi. Some to the common Pulpits, and cry out Liberty, Freedome,
and Enfranchisement

Bru. People and Senators, be not affrighted: Fly not, stand still:
Ambitions debt is paid

Cask. Go to the Pulpit Brutus

Dec. And Cassius too

Bru. Where's Publius?

Cin. Heere, quite confounded with this mutiny

Met. Stand fast together, least some Friend of Caesars Should
chance-

Bru. Talke not of standing. Publius good cheere, There is no harme
intended to your person, Nor to no Roman else: so tell them Publius

Cassi. And leaue vs Publius, least that the people Rushing on vs,
should do your Age some mischiefe

Bru. Do so, and let no man abide this deede, But we the Doers.

Enter Trebonius

Cassi. Where is Antony?

Treb. Fled to his House amaz'd:

Men, Wiues, and Children, stare, cry out, and run, As it were
Doomesday

Bru. Fates, we will know your pleasures: That we shall dye we know,
'tis but the time And drawing dayes out, that men stand vpon

Cask. Why he that cuts off twenty yeares of life, Cuts off so many
yeares of fearing death

Bru. Grant that, and then is Death a Benefit: So are we Caesars
Friends, that haue abridg'd His time of fearing death. Stoope Romans,
stoope, And let vs bathe our hands in Caesars blood Vp to the Elbowes,
and besmeare our Swords: Then walke we forth, euen to the Market place,
And wauing our red Weapons o're our heads, Let's all cry Peace,
Freedome, and Liberty

Cassi. Stoop then, and wash. How many Ages hence Shall this our
lofty Scene be acted ouer, In State vnborne, and Accents yet vnknowne?
Bru. How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport, That now on Pompeyes
Basis lye along,

No worthier then the dust?

Cassi. So oft as that shall be,

So often shall the knot of vs be call'd,

The Men that gaue their Country liberty

Dec. What, shall we forth?

Cassi. I, euery man away.

Brutus shall leade, and we will grace his heeles With the most boldest,
and best hearts of Rome. Enter a Seruant.

Bru. Soft, who comes heere? A friend of Antonies

Ser. Thus Brutus did my Master bid me kneele; Thus did Mark Antony
bid me fall downe,

And being prostrate, thus he bad me say:

Brutus is Noble, Wise, Valiant, and Honest; Caesar was Mighty, Bold,
Royall, and Louing: Say, I loue Brutus, and I honour him;

Say, I fear'd Caesar, honour'd him, and lou'd him. If Brutus will
vouchsafe, that Antony

May safely come to him, and be resolu'd

How Caesar hath deseru'd to lye in death, Mark Antony, shall not loue
Caesar dead

So well as Brutus liuing; but will follow The Fortunes and Affayres of
Noble Brutus, Thorough the hazards of this vntrod State, With all true
Faith. So sayes my Master Antony

Bru. Thy Master is a Wise and Valiant Romane, I neuer thought him
worse:

Tell him, so please him come vnto this place He shall be satisfied: and
by my Honor

Depart vntouch'd

Ser. Ile fetch him presently.

Exit Seruant.

Bru. I know that we shall haue him well to Friend

Cassi. I wish we may: But yet haue I a minde That feares him much:
and my misgiuing still Falles shrewdly to the purpose.

Enter Antony.

Bru. But heere comes Antony:

Welcome Mark Antony

Ant. O mighty Caesar! Dost thou lye so lowe? Are all thy Conquests,
Glories, Triumphes, Spoiles, Shrunke to this little Measure? Fare thee
well. I know not Gentlemen what you intend,

Who else must be let blood, who else is ranke: If I my selfe, there is
no houre so fit

As Caesars deaths houre; nor no Instrument Of halfe that worth, as
those your Swords; made rich With the most Noble blood of all this
World. I do beseech yee, if you beare me hard,

Now, whil'st your purpled hands do reeke and smoake, Fulfill your
pleasure. Liue a thousand yeeres, I shall not finde my selfe so apt to
dye. No place will please me so, no meane of death, As heere by Caesar,
and by you cut off,

The Choice and Master Spirits of this Age

Bru. O Antony! Begge not your death of vs: Though now we must
appeare bloody and cruell, As by our hands, and this our present Acte
You see we do: Yet see you but our hands, And this, the bleeding
businesse they haue done: Our hearts you see not, they are pittifull:
And pitty to the generall wrong of Rome,

As fire driues out fire, so pitty, pitty

Hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part, To you, our Swords haue
leaden points Marke Antony: Our Armes in strength of malice, and our
Hearts Of Brothers temper, do receiue you in,

With all kinde loue, good thoughts, and reuerence

Cassi. Your voyce shall be as strong as any mans, In the disposing
of new Dignities

Bru. Onely be patient, till we haue appeas'd The Multitude, beside
themselues with feare, And then, we will deliuer you the cause,

Why I, that did loue Caesar when I strooke him, Haue thus proceeded

Ant. I doubt not of your Wisedome:

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 Caska, yours; Though last, not least in loue, yours good
Trebonius. Gentlemen all: Alas, what shall I say,

My credit now stands on such slippery ground, That one of two bad wayes
you must conceit me, Either a Coward, or a Flatterer.

That I did loue thee Caesar, O 'tis true: If then thy Spirit looke vpon
vs now,

Shall it not greeue thee deerer then thy death, To see thy Antony
making his peace,

Shaking the bloody fingers of thy Foes?

Most Noble, in the presence of thy Coarse, Had I as many eyes, as thou
hast wounds,

Weeping as fast as they streame forth thy blood, It would become me
better, then to close

In tearmes of Friendship with thine enemies. Pardon me Iulius, heere
was't thou bay'd braue Hart, Heere did'st thou fall, and heere thy
Hunters stand Sign'd in thy Spoyle, and Crimson'd in thy Lethee. O
World! thou wast the Forrest to this Hart, And this indeed, O World,
the Hart of thee. How like a Deere, stroken by many Princes, Dost thou
heere lye?

Cassi. Mark Antony

Ant. Pardon me Caius Cassius:

The Enemies of Caesar, shall say this:

Then, in a Friend, it is cold Modestie

Cassi. I blame you not for praising Caesar so. But what compact
meane you to haue with vs? Will you be prick'd in number of our
Friends, Or shall we on, and not depend on you?

Ant. Therefore I tooke your hands, but was indeed Sway'd from the
point, by looking downe on Caesar. Friends am I with you all, and loue
you all, Vpon this hope, that you shall giue me Reasons, Why, and
wherein, Caesar was dangerous

Bru. Or else were this a sauage Spectacle: Our Reasons are so full
of good regard,

That were you Antony, the Sonne of Caesar, You should be satisfied

Ant. That's all I seeke,

And am moreouer sutor, that I may

Produce his body to the Market-place,

And in the Pulpit as becomes a Friend,

Speake in the Order of his Funerall

Bru. You shall Marke Antony

Cassi. Brutus, a word with you:

You know not what you do; Do not consent

That Antony speake in his Funerall:

Know you how much the people may be mou'd By that which he will vtter

Bru. By your pardon:

I will my selfe into the Pulpit first,

And shew the reason of our Caesars death. What Antony shall speake, I
will protest

He speakes by leaue, and by permission:

And that we are contented Caesar shall

Haue all true Rites, and lawfull Ceremonies, It shall aduantage more,
then do vs wrong

Cassi. I know not what may fall, I like it not

Bru. Mark Antony, heere take you Caesars body: You shall not in your
Funerall speech blame vs, But speake all good you can deuise of Caesar,
And say you doo't by our permission:

Else shall you not haue any hand at all

About his Funerall. And you shall speake

In the same Pulpit whereto I am going,

After my speech is ended

Ant. Be it so:

I do desire no more

Bru. Prepare the body then, and follow vs.

Exeunt.

Manet Antony.

O pardon me, thou bleeding peece of Earth: That I am meeke and gentle
with these Butchers. Thou art the Ruines of the Noblest man

That euer liued in the Tide of Times.

Woe to the hand that shed this costly Blood. Ouer thy wounds, now do I
Prophesie,

(Which like dumbe mouthes do ope their Ruby lips, To begge the voyce
and vtterance of my Tongue) A Curse shall light vpon the limbes of men;
Domesticke Fury, and fierce Ciuill strife, Shall cumber all the parts
of Italy:

Blood and destruction shall be so in vse, And dreadfull Obiects so
familiar,

That Mothers shall but smile, when they behold Their Infants quartered
with the hands of Warre: All pitty choak'd with custome of fell deeds,
And Caesars Spirit ranging for Reuenge,

With Ate by his side, come hot from Hell, Shall in these Confines, with
a Monarkes voyce, Cry hauocke, and let slip the Dogges of Warre, That
this foule deede, shall smell aboue the earth With Carrion men,
groaning for Buriall.

Enter Octauio's Seruant.

You serue Octauius Caesar, do you not?

Ser. I do Marke Antony

Ant. Caesar did write for him to come to Rome

Ser. He did receiue his Letters, and is comming, And bid me say to
you by word of mouth-

O Caesar!

Ant. Thy heart is bigge: get thee a-part and weepe: Passion I see is
catching from mine eyes, Seeing those Beads of sorrow stand in thine,
Began to water. Is thy Master comming?

Ser. He lies to night within seuen Leagues of Rome

Ant. Post backe with speede,

And tell him what hath chanc'd:

Heere is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, No Rome of safety for
Octauius yet,

Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet stay a-while, Thou shalt not backe,
till I haue borne this course Into the Market place: There shall I try

In my Oration, how the People take

The cruell issue of these bloody men,

According to the which, thou shalt discourse To yong Octauius, of the
state of things. Lend me your hand.

Exeunt.

Enter Brutus and goes into the Pulpit, and Cassius, with the
Plebeians.

Ple. We will be satisfied: let vs be satisfied

Bru. Then follow me, and giue me Audience friends. Cassius go you
into the other streete,

And part the Numbers:

Those that will heare me speake, let 'em stay heere; Those that will
follow Cassius, go with him, And publike Reasons shall be rendred

Of Caesars death

1.Ple. I will heare Brutus speake

2. I will heare Cassius, and compare their Reasons, When seuerally
we heare them rendred

3. The Noble Brutus is ascended: Silence

Bru. Be patient till the last.

Romans, Countrey-men, and Louers, heare mee for my cause, and be
silent, that you may heare. Beleeue me for mine Honor, and haue respect
to mine Honor, that you may beleeue. Censure me in your Wisedom, and
awake your Senses, that you may the better Iudge. If there bee any in
this Assembly, any deere Friend of Caesars, to him I say, that Brutus
loue to Caesar, was no lesse then his. If then, that Friend demand, why
Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: Not that I lou'd Caesar
lesse, but that I lou'd Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were liuing,
and dye all Slaues; then that Caesar were dead, to liue all Free-men?
As Caesar lou'd mee, I weepe for him; as he was Fortunate, I reioyce at
it; as he was Valiant, I honour him: But, as he was Ambitious, I slew
him. There is Teares, for his Loue: Ioy, for his Fortune: Honor, for
his Valour: and Death, for his Ambition. Who is heere so base, that
would be a Bondman? If any, speak, for him haue I offended. Who is
heere so rude, that would not be a Roman? If any, speak, for him haue I
offended. Who is heere so vile, that will not loue his Countrey? If
any, speake, for him haue I offended. I pause for a Reply

All. None Brutus, none

Brutus. Then none haue I offended. I haue done no more to Caesar,
then you shall do to Brutus. The Question of his death, is inroll'd in
the Capitoll: his Glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his
offences enforc'd, for which he suffered death.

Enter Mark Antony, with Caesars body.

Heere comes his Body, mourn'd by Marke Antony, who though he had no
hand in his death, shall receiue the benefit of his dying, a place in
the Co[m]monwealth, as which of you shall not. With this I depart, that
as I slewe my best Louer for the good of Rome, I haue the same Dagger
for my selfe, when it shall please my Country to need my death

All. Liue Brutus, liue, liue

1. Bring him with Triumph home vnto his house

2. Giue him a Statue with his Ancestors

3. Let him be Caesar

4. Caesars better parts,

Shall be Crown'd in Brutus

1. Wee'l bring him to his House,

With Showts and Clamors

Bru. My Country-men

2. Peace, silence, Brutus speakes

1. Peace ho

Bru. Good Countrymen, let me depart alone, And (for my sake) stay
heere with Antony: Do grace to Caesars Corpes, and grace his Speech
Tending to Caesars Glories, which Marke Antony (By our permission) is
allow'd to make.

I do intreat you, not a man depart,

Saue I alone, till Antony haue spoke.

Exit

1 Stay ho, and let vs heare Mark Antony

3 Let him go vp into the publike Chaire, Wee'l heare him: Noble
Antony go vp

Ant. For Brutus sake, I am beholding to you

4 What does he say of Brutus?

3 He sayes, for Brutus sake

He findes himselfe beholding to vs all

4 'Twere best he speake no harme of Brutus heere?   1 This Caesar
was a Tyrant

3 Nay that's certaine:

We are blest that Rome is rid of him

2 Peace, let vs heare what Antony can say

Ant. You gentle Romans

All. Peace hoe, let vs heare him

An. Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears: I come to bury
Caesar, not to praise him: The euill that men do, liues after them,

The good is oft enterred 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 greeuous Fault,

And greeuously hath Caesar answer'd it.

Heere, vnder leaue of Brutus, and the rest (For Brutus is an Honourable
man,

So are they all; all Honourable men)

Come I to speake in Caesars Funerall.

He was my Friend, faithfull, and iust to me; But Brutus sayes, he was
Ambitious,

And Brutus is an Honourable man.

He hath brought many Captiues home to Rome, Whose Ransomes, did the
generall Coffers fill: Did this in Caesar seeme Ambitious?

When that the poore haue cry'de, Caesar hath wept: Ambition should be
made of sterner stuffe, Yet Brutus sayes, he was Ambitious:

And Brutus is an Honourable man.

You all did see, that on the Lupercall,

I thrice presented him a Kingly Crowne,

Which he did thrice refuse. Was this Ambition? Yet Brutus sayes, he was
Ambitious:

And sure he is an Honourable man.

I speake not to disprooue what Brutus spoke, But heere I am, to speake
what I do know; You all did loue him once, not without cause, What
cause with-holds you then, to mourne for him? O Iudgement! thou are
fled to brutish Beasts, And Men haue lost their Reason. Beare with me,
My heart is in the Coffin there with Caesar, And I must pawse, till it
come backe to me

1 Me thinkes there is much reason in his sayings

2 If thou consider rightly of the matter, Caesar ha's had great
wrong

3 Ha's hee Masters? I feare there will a worse come in his place

4. Mark'd ye his words? he would not take y Crown, Therefore 'tis
certaine, he was not Ambitious

1. If it be found so, some will deere abide it

2. Poore soule, his eyes are red as fire with weeping

3. There's not a Nobler man in Rome then Antony

4. Now marke him, he begins againe to speake

Ant. But yesterday, the word of Caesar might Haue stood against the
World: Now lies he there, And none so poore to do him reuerence.

O Maisters! If I were dispos'd to stirre

Your hearts and mindes 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
my selfe and you, Then I will wrong such Honourable men.

But heere's a Parchment, with the Seale of Caesar, I found it in his
Closset, 'tis his Will: Let but the Commons heare this Testament:
(Which pardon me) I do not meane to reade, And they would go and kisse
dead Caesars wounds, And dip their Napkins in his Sacred Blood; Yea,
begge a haire of him for Memory,

And dying, mention it within their Willes, Bequeathing it as a rich
Legacie

Vnto their issue

4 Wee'l heare the Will, reade it Marke Antony

All. The Will, the Will; we will heare Caesars Will

Ant. Haue patience gentle Friends, I must not read it. It is not
meete you know how Caesar lou'd you: You are not Wood, you are not
Stones, but men: And being men, hearing the Will of Caesar, It will
inflame you, it will make you mad: 'Tis good you know not that you are
his Heires, For if you should, O what would come of it?   4 Read the
Will, wee'l heare it Antony: You shall reade vs the Will, Caesars Will

Ant. Will you be Patient? Will you stay a-while? I haue o're-shot my
selfe to tell you of it, I feare I wrong the Honourable men,

Whose Daggers haue stabb'd Caesar: I do feare it

4 They were Traitors: Honourable men?

All. The Will, the Testament

2 They were Villaines, Murderers: the Will, read the Will

Ant. You will compell me then to read the Will: Then make a Ring
about the Corpes of Caesar, And let me shew you him that made the Will:
Shall I descend? And will you giue me leaue?   All. Come downe

2 Descend

3 You shall haue leaue

4 A Ring, stand round

1 Stand from the Hearse, stand from the Body

2 Roome for Antony, most Noble Antony

Ant. Nay presse not so vpon me, stand farre off

All. Stand backe: roome, beare backe

Ant. If you haue teares, prepare to shed them now. You all do know
this Mantle, I remember

The first time euer Caesar put it on,

'Twas on a Summers Euening in his Tent,

That day he ouercame the Neruij.

Looke, in this place ran Cassius Dagger through: See what a rent the
enuious Caska made:

Through this, the wel-beloued Brutus stabb'd, And as he pluck'd his
cursed Steele away: Marke how the blood of Caesar followed it, As
rushing out of doores, to be resolu'd

If Brutus so vnkindely knock'd, or no:

For Brutus, as you know, was Caesars Angel. Iudge, O you Gods, how
deerely Caesar lou'd him: This was the most vnkindest cut of all.

For when the Noble Caesar saw him stab,

Ingratitude, more strong then Traitors armes, Quite vanquish'd him:
then burst his Mighty heart, And in his Mantle, muffling vp his face,

Euen at the Base of Pompeyes Statue

(Which all the while ran blood) great Caesar fell. O what a fall was
there, my Countrymen?

Then I, and you, and all of vs fell downe, Whil'st bloody Treason
flourish'd ouer vs. O now you weepe, and I perceiue you feele The dint
of pitty: These are gracious droppes. Kinde Soules, what weepe you,
when you but behold Our Caesars Vesture wounded? Looke you heere, Heere
is Himselfe, marr'd as you see with Traitors

1. O pitteous spectacle!

2. O Noble Caesar!

3. O wofull day!

4. O Traitors, Villaines!

1. O most bloody sight!

2. We will be reueng'd: Reuenge

About, seeke, burne, fire, kill, slay,

Let not a Traitor liue

Ant. Stay Country-men

1. Peace there, heare the Noble Antony

2. Wee'l heare him, wee'l follow him, wee'l dy with him

Ant. Good Friends, sweet Friends, let me not stirre you vp To such a
sodaine Flood of Mutiny:

They that haue done this Deede, are honourable. What priuate greefes
they haue, 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 steale away your hearts, I am no Orator, as Brutus is:

But (as you know me all) a plaine blunt man That loue my Friend, and
that they know full well, That gaue me publike leaue to speake of him:
For I haue neyther writ nor words, nor worth, Action, nor Vtterance,
nor the power of Speech, To stirre mens Blood. I onely speake right on:
I tell you that, which you your selues do know, Shew you sweet Caesars
wounds, poor poor dum mouths And bid them speake for me: But were I
Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony

Would ruffle vp your Spirits, and put a Tongue In euery Wound of
Caesar, that should moue The stones of Rome, to rise and Mutiny

All. Wee'l Mutiny

1 Wee'l burne the house of Brutus

3 Away then, come, seeke the Conspirators

Ant. Yet heare me Countrymen, yet heare me speake   All. Peace hoe,
heare Antony, most Noble Antony

Ant. Why Friends, you go to do you know not what: Wherein hath
Caesar thus deseru'd your loues? Alas you know not, I must tell you
then:

You haue forgot the Will I told you of

All. Most true, the Will, let's stay and heare the Wil

Ant. Heere is the Will, and vnder Caesars Seale: To euery Roman
Citizen he giues,

To euery seuerall man, seuenty fiue Drachmaes

2 Ple. Most Noble Caesar, wee'l reuenge his death

3 Ple. O Royall Caesar

Ant. Heare me with patience

All. Peace hoe

Ant. Moreouer, he hath left you all his Walkes, His priuate Arbors,
and new-planted Orchards, On this side Tyber, he hath left them you,
And to your heyres for euer: common pleasures To walke abroad, and
recreate your selues. Heere was a Caesar: when comes such another?
1.Ple. Neuer, neuer: come, away, away:

Wee'l burne his body in the holy place,

And with the Brands fire the Traitors houses. Take vp the body

2.Ple. Go fetch fire

3.Ple. Plucke downe Benches

4.Ple. Plucke downe Formes, Windowes, any thing.

Exit Plebeians.

Ant. Now let it worke: Mischeefe thou art a-foot, Take thou what
course thou wilt.

How now Fellow?

Enter Seruant.

Ser. Sir, Octauius is already come to Rome

Ant. Where is hee?

Ser. He and Lepidus are at Caesars house

Ant. And thither will I straight, to visit him: He comes vpon a
wish. Fortune is merry,

And in this mood will giue vs any thing

Ser. I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius Are rid like Madmen through
the Gates of Rome

Ant. Belike they had some notice of the people How I had moued them.
Bring me to Octauius.

Exeunt.

Enter Cinna the Poet, and after him the Plebeians.

Cinna. I dreamt to night, that I did feast with Caesar, And things
vnluckily charge my Fantasie:

I haue no will to wander foorth of doores, Yet something leads me
foorth

1. What is your name?

2. Whether are you going?

3. Where do you dwell?

4. Are you a married man, or a Batchellor?   2. Answer euery man
directly

1. I, and breefely

4. I, and wisely

3. I, and truly, you were best

Cin. What is my name? Whether am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a
married man, or a Batchellour? Then to answer euery man, directly and
breefely, wisely and truly: wisely I say, I am a Batchellor

2 That's as much as to say, they are fooles that marrie: you'l beare
me a bang for that I feare: proceede directly

Cinna. Directly I am going to Caesars Funerall

1. As a Friend, or an Enemy?

Cinna. As a friend

2. That matter is answered directly

4. For your dwelling: breefely

Cinna. Breefely, I dwell by the Capitoll

3. Your name sir, truly

Cinna. Truly, my name is Cinna

1. Teare him to peeces, hee's a Conspirator

Cinna. I am Cinna the Poet, I am Cinna the Poet

4. Teare him for his bad verses, teare him for his bad Verses

Cin. I am not Cinna the Conspirator

4. It is no matter, his name's Cinna, plucke but his name out of his
heart, and turne him going

3. Teare him, tear him; Come Brands hoe, Firebrands: to Brutus, to
Cassius, burne all. Some to Decius House, and some to Caska's; some to
Ligarius: Away, go.

Exeunt. all the Plebeians.



Actus Quartus.

Enter Antony, Octauius, and Lepidus.

Ant. These many then shall die, their names are prickt   Octa. Your
Brother too must dye: consent you Lepidus?   Lep. I do consent

Octa. Pricke him downe Antony

Lep. Vpon condition Publius shall not liue, Who is your Sisters
sonne, Marke Antony

Ant. He shall not liue; looke, with a spot I dam him. But Lepidus,
go you to Caesars house:

Fetch the Will hither, and we shall determine How to cut off some
charge in Legacies

Lep. What? shall I finde you heere?

Octa. Or heere, or at the Capitoll.

Exit Lepidus

Ant. This is a slight vnmeritable man,

Meet to be sent on Errands: is it fit

The three-fold World diuided, he should stand One of the three to share
it?

Octa. So you thought him,

And tooke his voyce who should be prickt to dye In our blacke Sentence
and Proscription

Ant. Octauius, I haue seene more dayes then you, And though we lay
these Honours on this man, To ease our selues of diuers sland'rous
loads, He shall but beare them, as the Asse beares Gold, To groane and
swet vnder the Businesse,

Either led or driuen, as we point the way: And hauing brought our
Treasure, where we will, Then take we downe his Load, and turne him off
(Like to the empty Asse) to shake his eares, And graze in Commons

Octa. You may do your will:

But hee's a tried, and valiant Souldier

Ant. So is my Horse Octauius, and for that I do appoint him store of
Prouender.

It is a Creature that I teach to fight,

To winde, to stop, to run directly on:

His corporall Motion, gouern'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 Obiects, Arts, and Imitations.

Which out of vse, and stal'de by other men Begin his fashion. Do not
talke of him,

But as a property: and now Octauius,

Listen great things. Brutus and Cassius

Are leuying Powers; We must straight make head: Therefore let our
Alliance be combin'd,

Our best Friends made, our meanes stretcht, And let vs presently go sit
in Councell,

How couert matters may be best disclos'd, And open Perils surest
answered

Octa. Let vs do so: for we are at the stake, And bayed about with
many Enemies,

And some that smile haue in their hearts I feare Millions of
Mischeefes.

Exeunt.

Drum. Enter Brutus, Lucillius, and the Army. Titinius and Pindarus
meete

them.

Bru. Stand ho

Lucil. Giue the word ho, and Stand

Bru. What now Lucillius, is Cassius neere?   Lucil. He is at hand,
and Pindarus is come To do you salutation from his Master

Bru. He greets me well. Your Master Pindarus In his owne change, or
by ill Officers,

Hath giuen me some worthy cause to wish

Things done, vndone: But if he be at hand I shall be satisfied

Pin. I do not doubt

But that my Noble Master will appeare

Such as he is, full of regard, and Honour

Bru. He is not doubted. A word Lucillius How he receiu'd you: let me
be resolu'd

Lucil. With courtesie, and with respect enough, But not with such
familiar instances,

Nor with such free and friendly Conference As he hath vs'd of old

Bru. Thou hast describ'd

A hot Friend, cooling: Euer note Lucillius, When Loue begins to sicken
and decay

It vseth an enforced Ceremony.

There are no trickes, in plaine and simple Faith: But hollow men, like
Horses hot at hand,

Make gallant shew, and promise of their Mettle:

Low March within.

But when they should endure the bloody Spurre, They fall their Crests,
and like deceitfull Iades Sinke in the Triall. Comes his Army on?

Lucil. They meane this night in Sardis to be quarter'd: The greater
part, the Horse in generall

Are come with Cassius.

Enter Cassius and his Powers.

Bru. Hearke, he is arriu'd:

March gently on to meete him

Cassi. Stand ho

Bru. Stand ho, speake the word along.

Stand.

Stand.

Stand

Cassi. Most Noble Brother, you haue done me wrong

Bru. Iudge me you Gods; wrong I mine Enemies? And if not so, how
should I wrong a Brother

Cassi. Brutus, this sober forme of yours, hides wrongs, And when you
do them-

Brut. Cassius, be content,

Speake your greefes softly, I do know you well. Before the eyes of both
our Armies heere

(Which should perceiue nothing but Loue from vs) Let vs not wrangle.
Bid them moue away:

Then in my Tent Cassius enlarge your Greefes, And I will giue you
Audience

Cassi. Pindarus,

Bid our Commanders leade their Charges off A little from this ground

Bru. Lucillius, do you the like, and let no man Come to our Tent,
till we haue done our Conference. Let Lucius and Titinius guard our
doore.

Exeunt.

Manet Brutus and Cassius.

Cassi. That you haue wrong'd me, doth appear in this: You haue
condemn'd, and noted Lucius Pella For taking Bribes heere of the
Sardians;

Wherein my Letters, praying on his side,

Because I knew the man was slighted off

Bru. You wrong'd your selfe to write in such a case

Cassi. In such a time as this, it is not meet That euery nice
offence should beare his Comment

Bru. Let me tell you Cassius, you your selfe Are much condemn'd to
haue an itching Palme, To sell, and Mart your Offices for Gold

To Vndeseruers

Cassi. I, an itching Palme?

You know that you are Brutus that speakes this, Or by the Gods, this
speech were else your last

Bru. The name of Cassius Honors this corruption, And Chasticement
doth therefore hide his head

Cassi. Chasticement?

Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March reme[m]ber: Did not great
Iulius bleede for Iustice sake? What Villaine touch'd his body, that
did stab, And not for Iustice? What? Shall one of Vs, That strucke the
Formost 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 Honors For so much trash, as may be grasped thus? I
had rather be a Dogge, and bay the Moone, Then such a Roman

Cassi. Brutus, baite not me,

Ile not indure it: you forget your selfe

To hedge me in. I am a Souldier, I,

Older in practice, Abler then your selfe

To make Conditions

Bru. Go too: you are not Cassius

Cassi. I am

Bru. I say, you are not

Cassi. Vrge me no more, I shall forget my selfe: Haue minde vpon
your health: Tempt me no farther

Bru. Away slight man

Cassi. Is't possible?

Bru. Heare me, for I will speake.

Must I giue way, and roome to your rash Choller? Shall I be frighted,
when a Madman stares?   Cassi. O ye Gods, ye Gods, Must I endure all
this?   Bru. All this? I more: Fret till your proud hart break. Go shew
your Slaues how Chollericke you are, And make your Bondmen tremble.
Must I bouge? Must I obserue you? Must I stand and crouch Vnder your
Testie Humour? By the Gods,

You shall digest the Venom of your Spleene Though it do Split you. For,
from this day forth, Ile vse you for my Mirth, yea for my Laughter When
you are Waspish

Cassi. Is it come to this?

Bru. You say, you are a better Souldier: Let it appeare so; make your
vaunting true, And it shall please me well. For mine owne part, I shall
be glad to learne of Noble men

Cass. You wrong me euery way:

You wrong me Brutus:

I saide, an Elder Souldier, not a Better. Did I say Better?

Bru. If you did, I care not

Cass. When Caesar liu'd, he durst not thus haue mou'd me

Brut. Peace, peace, you durst not so haue tempted him

Cassi. I durst not

Bru. No

Cassi. What? durst not tempt him?

Bru. For your life you durst not

Cassi. Do not presume too much vpon my Loue, I may do that I shall
be sorry for

Bru. You haue 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 passe by me, as the idle winde, Which I respect not. I did
send to you

For certaine summes of Gold, which you deny'd me, For I can raise no
money by vile meanes:

By Heauen, I had rather Coine my Heart,

And drop my blood for Drachmaes, then to wring From the hard hands of
Peazants, their vile trash By any indirection. I did send

To you for Gold to pay my Legions,

Which you deny'd me: was that done like Cassius? Should I haue answer'd
Caius Cassius so?

When Marcus Brutus growes so Couetous,

To locke such Rascall Counters from his Friends, Be ready Gods with all
your Thunder-bolts, Dash him to peeces

Cassi. I deny'd you not

Bru. You did

Cassi. I did not. He was but a Foole

That brought my answer back. Brutus hath riu'd my hart: A Friend should
beare his Friends infirmities; But Brutus makes mine greater then they
are

Bru. I do not, till you practice them on me

Cassi. You loue me not

Bru. I do not like your faults

Cassi. A friendly eye could neuer see such faults

Bru. A Flatterers would not, though they do appeare As huge as high
Olympus

Cassi. Come Antony, and yong Octauius come, Reuenge your selues
alone on Cassius,

For Cassius is a-weary of the World:

Hated by one he loues, brau'd by his Brother, Check'd like a bondman,
all his faults obseru'd, Set in a Note-booke, learn'd, and con'd by
roate To cast into my Teeth. O I could weepe

My Spirit from mine eyes. There is my Dagger, And heere my naked
Breast: Within, a Heart Deerer then Pluto's Mine, Richer then Gold: If
that thou bee'st a Roman, take it foorth. I that deny'd thee Gold, will
giue my Heart: Strike as thou did'st at Caesar: For I know, When thou
did'st hate him worst, y loued'st him better Then euer thou loued'st
Cassius

Bru. Sheath your Dagger:

Be angry when you will, it shall haue scope: Do what you will,
Dishonor, shall be Humour. O Cassius, you are yoaked with a Lambe

That carries Anger, as the Flint beares fire, Who much inforced, shewes
a hastie Sparke, And straite is cold agen

Cassi. Hath Cassius liu'd

To be but Mirth and Laughter to his Brutus, When greefe and blood ill
temper'd, vexeth him?   Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill temper'd too

Cassi. Do you confesse so much? Giue me your hand

Bru. And my heart too

Cassi. O Brutus!

Bru. What's the matter?

Cassi. Haue not you loue enough to beare with me, When that rash
humour which my Mother gaue me Makes me forgetfull

Bru. Yes Cassius, and from henceforth

When you are ouer-earnest with your Brutus, Hee'l thinke your Mother
chides, and leaue you so. Enter a Poet.

Poet. Let me go in to see the Generals, There is some grudge betweene
'em, 'tis not meete They be alone

Lucil. You shall not come to them

Poet. Nothing but death shall stay me

Cas. How now? What's the matter?

Poet. For shame you Generals; what do you meane? Loue, and be
Friends, as two such men should bee, For I haue seene more yeeres I'me
sure then yee

Cas. Ha, ha, how vildely doth this Cynicke rime?   Bru. Get you
hence sirra: Sawcy Fellow, hence

Cas. Beare with him Brutus, 'tis his fashion

Brut. Ile know his humor, when he knowes his time: What should the
Warres do with these Iigging Fooles? Companion, hence

Cas. Away, away be gone.

Exit Poet

Bru. Lucillius and Titinius bid the Commanders Prepare to lodge their
Companies to night

Cas. And come your selues, & bring Messala with you Immediately to
vs

Bru. Lucius, a bowle of Wine

Cas. I did not thinke you could haue bin so angry

Bru. O Cassius, I am sicke of many greefes

Cas. Of your Philosophy you make no vse, If you giue place to
accidentall euils

Bru. No man beares sorrow better. Portia is dead

Cas. Ha? Portia?

Bru. She is dead

Cas. How scap'd I killing, when I crost you so? O insupportable, and
touching losse!

Vpon what sicknesse?

Bru. Impatient of my absence,

And greefe, that yong Octauius with Mark Antony Haue made themselues so
strong: For with her death That tydings came. With this she fell
distract, And (her Attendants absent) swallow'd fire

Cas. And dy'd so?

Bru. Euen so

Cas. O ye immortall Gods!

Enter Boy with Wine, and Tapers.

Bru. Speak no more of her: Giue me a bowl of wine, In this I bury all
vnkindnesse Cassius.

Drinkes

Cas. My heart is thirsty for that Noble pledge. Fill Lucius, till the
Wine ore-swell the Cup: I cannot drinke too much of Brutus loue.

Enter Titinius and Messala.

Brutus. Come in Titinius:

Welcome good Messala:

Now sit we close about this Taper heere,

And call in question our necessities

Cass. Portia, art thou gone?

Bru. No more I pray you.

Messala, I haue heere receiued Letters,

That yong Octauius, and Marke Antony

Come downe vpon vs with a mighty power,

Bending their Expedition toward Philippi

Mess. My selfe haue Letters of the selfe-same Tenure

Bru. With what Addition

Mess. That by proscription, and billes of Outlarie, Octauius,
Antony, and Lepidus,

Haue put to death, an hundred Senators

Bru. Therein our Letters do not well agree: Mine speake of seuenty
Senators, that dy'de By their proscriptions, Cicero being one

Cassi. Cicero one?

Messa. Cicero is dead, and by that order of proscription Had you your
Letters from your wife, my Lord?   Bru. No Messala

Messa. Nor nothing in your Letters writ of her?   Bru. Nothing
Messala

Messa. That me thinkes is strange

Bru. Why aske you?

Heare you ought of her, in yours?

Messa. No my Lord

Bru. Now as you are a Roman tell me true

Messa. Then like a Roman, beare the truth I tell, For certaine she
is dead, and by strange manner

Bru. Why farewell Portia: We must die Messala: With meditating that
she must dye once,

I haue the patience to endure it now

Messa. Euen so great men, great losses shold indure

Cassi. I haue as much of this in Art as you, But yet my Nature could
not beare it so

Bru. Well, to our worke aliue. What do you thinke Of marching to
Philippi presently

Cassi. I do not thinke it good

Bru. Your reason?

Cassi. This it is:

'Tis better that the Enemie seeke vs,

So shall he waste his meanes, weary his Souldiers, Doing himselfe
offence, whil'st we lying still, Are full of rest, defence, and
nimblenesse

Bru. Good reasons must of force giue place to better: The people
'twixt Philippi, and this ground Do stand but in a forc'd affection:

For they haue grug'd vs Contribution.

The Enemy, marching along by them,

By them shall make a fuller number vp,

Come on refresht, new added, and encourag'd: From which aduantage shall
we cut him off. If at Philippi we do face him there,

These people at our backe

Cassi. Heare me good Brother

Bru. Vnder your pardon. You must note beside, That we haue tride the
vtmost of our Friends: Our Legions are brim full, our cause is ripe,
The Enemy encreaseth euery day,

We at the height, are readie to decline.

There is a Tide in the affayres of men,

Which taken at the Flood, leades on to Fortune: Omitted, all the voyage
of their life,

Is bound in Shallowes, and in Miseries.

On such a full Sea are we now a-float,

And we must take the current when it serues, Or loose our Ventures

Cassi. Then with your will go on: wee'l along Our selues, and meet
them at Philippi

Bru. The deepe of night is crept vpon our talke, And Nature must
obey Necessitie,

Which we will niggard with a little rest: There is no more to say

Cassi. No more, good night,

Early to morrow will we rise, and hence.

Enter Lucius.

Bru. Lucius my Gowne: farewell good Messala, Good night Titinius:
Noble, Noble Cassius, Good night, and good repose

Cassi. O my deere Brother:

This was an ill beginning of the night:

Neuer come such diuision 'tweene our soules: Let it not Brutus.

Enter Lucius with the Gowne.

Bru. Euery thing is well

Cassi. Good night my Lord

Bru. Good night good Brother

Tit. Messa. Good night Lord Brutus

Bru. Farwell euery one.

Exeunt.

Giue me the Gowne. Where is thy Instrument?   Luc. Heere in the Tent

Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily?

Poore knaue I blame thee not, thou art ore-watch'd. Call Claudio, and
some other of my men,

Ile haue them sleepe on Cushions in my Tent

Luc. Varrus, and Claudio.

Enter Varrus and Claudio.

Var. Cals my Lord?

Bru. I pray you sirs, lye in my Tent and sleepe, It may be I shall
raise you by and by

On businesse to my Brother Cassius

Var. So please you, we will stand,

And watch your pleasure

Bru. I will it not haue it so: Lye downe good sirs, It may be I
shall otherwise bethinke me.

Looke Lucius, heere's the booke I sought for so: I put it in the pocket
of my Gowne

Luc. I was sure your Lordship did not giue it me

Bru. Beare with me good Boy, I am much forgetfull. Canst thou hold
vp thy heauie eyes a-while, And touch thy Instrument a straine or two

Luc. I my Lord, an't please you

Bru. It does my Boy:

I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing

Luc. It is my duty Sir

Brut. I should not vrge thy duty past thy might, I know yong bloods
looke for a time of rest

Luc. I haue slept my Lord already

Bru. It was well done, and thou shalt sleepe againe: I will not hold
thee long. If I do liue,

I will be good to thee.

Musicke, and a Song.

This is a sleepy Tune: O Murd'rous slumber! Layest thou thy Leaden Mace
vpon my Boy,

That playes thee Musicke? Gentle knaue good night: I will not do thee
so much wrong to wake thee: If thou do'st nod, thou break'st thy
Instrument, Ile take it from thee, and (good Boy) good night. Let me
see, let me see; is not the Leafe turn'd downe Where I left reading?
Heere it is I thinke. Enter the Ghost of Caesar.

How ill this Taper burnes. Ha! Who comes heere? I thinke it is the
weakenesse of mine eyes That shapes this monstrous Apparition.

It comes vpon me: Art thou any thing?

Art thou some God, some Angell, or some Diuell, That mak'st my blood
cold, and my haire to stare? Speake to me, what thou art

Ghost. Thy euill Spirit Brutus?

Bru. Why com'st thou?

Ghost. To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi

Brut. Well: then I shall see thee againe?   Ghost. I, at Philippi

Brut. Why I will see thee at Philippi then: Now I haue taken heart,
thou vanishest.

Ill Spirit, I would hold more talke with thee. Boy, Lucius, Varrus,
Claudio, Sirs: Awake: Claudio

Luc. The strings my Lord, are false

Bru. He thinkes he still is at his Instrument. Lucius, awake

Luc. My Lord

Bru. Did'st thou dreame Lucius, that thou so cryedst out?

Luc. My Lord, I do not know that I did cry

Bru. Yes that thou did'st: Did'st thou see any thing?   Luc. Nothing
my Lord

Bru. Sleepe againe Lucius: Sirra Claudio, Fellow, Thou: Awake

Var. My Lord

Clau. My Lord

Bru. Why did you so cry out sirs, in your sleepe?   Both. Did we my
Lord?

Bru. I: saw you any thing?

Var. No my Lord, I saw nothing

Clau. Nor I my Lord

Bru. Go, and commend me to my Brother Cassius: Bid him set on his
Powres betimes before, And we will follow

Both. It shall be done my Lord.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Octauius, Antony, and their Army.

Octa. Now Antony, our hopes are answered, You said the Enemy would
not come downe,

But keepe the Hilles and vpper Regions:

It proues not so: their battailes are at hand, They meane to warne vs
at Philippi heere: Answering before we do demand of them

Ant. Tut I am in their bosomes, and I know Wherefore they do it:
They could be content To visit other places, and come downe

With fearefull brauery: thinking by this face To fasten in our thoughts
that they haue Courage; But 'tis not so.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Prepare you Generals,

The Enemy comes on in gallant shew:

Their bloody signe of Battell is hung out, And something to be done
immediately

Ant. Octauius, leade your Battaile softly on Vpon the left hand of
the euen Field

Octa. Vpon the right hand I, keepe thou the left

Ant. Why do you crosse me in this exigent

Octa. I do not crosse you: but I will do so.

March.

Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, & their Army.

Bru. They stand, and would haue parley

Cassi. Stand fast Titinius, we must out and talke

Octa. Mark Antony, shall we giue signe of Battaile?   Ant. No
Caesar, we will answer on their Charge. Make forth, the Generals would
haue some words

Oct. Stirre not vntill the Signall

Bru. Words before blowes: is it so Countrymen?   Octa. Not that we
loue words better, as you do

Bru. Good words are better then bad strokes Octauius

An. In your bad strokes Brutus, you giue good words Witnesse the
hole you made in Caesars heart, Crying long liue, Haile Caesar

Cassi. Antony,

The posture of your blowes are yet vnknowne; But for your words, they
rob the Hibla Bees, And leaue them Hony-lesse

Ant. Not stinglesse too

Bru. O yes, and soundlesse too:

For you haue stolne their buzzing Antony, And very wisely threat before
you sting

Ant. Villains: you did not so, when your vile daggers Hackt one
another in the sides of Caesar: You shew'd your teethes like Apes,

And fawn'd like Hounds,

And bow'd like Bondmen, kissing Caesars feete; Whil'st damned Caska,
like a Curre, behinde Strooke Caesar on the necke. O you Flatterers

Cassi. Flatterers? Now Brutus thanke your selfe, This tongue had not
offended so to day.

If Cassius might haue rul'd

Octa. Come, come, the cause. If arguing make vs swet, The proofe of
it will turne to redder drops: Looke, I draw a Sword against
Conspirators, When thinke you that the Sword goes vp againe? Neuer till
Caesars three and thirtie wounds Be well aueng'd; or till another
Caesar

Haue added slaughter to the Sword of Traitors

Brut. Caesar, thou canst not dye by Traitors hands. Vnlesse thou
bring'st them with thee

Octa. So I hope:

I was not borne to dye on Brutus Sword

Bru. O if thou wer't the Noblest of thy Straine, Yong-man, thou
could'st not dye more honourable

Cassi. A peeuish School-boy, worthles of such Honor Ioyn'd with a
Masker, and a Reueller

Ant. Old Cassius still

Octa. Come Antony: away:

Defiance Traitors, hurle we in your teeth. If you dare fight to day,
come to the Field; If not, when you haue stomackes.

Exit Octauius, Antony, and Army

Cassi. Why now blow winde, swell Billow, And swimme Barke:

The Storme is vp, and all is on the hazard

Bru. Ho Lucillius, hearke, a word with you.

Lucillius and Messala stand forth.

Luc. My Lord

Cassi. Messala

Messa. What sayes my Generall?

Cassi. Messala, this is my Birth-day: at this very day Was Cassius
borne. Giue me thy hand Messala: Be thou my witnesse, that against my
will (As Pompey was) am I compell'd to set

Vpon one Battell all our Liberties.

You know, that I held Epicurus strong,

And his Opinion: Now I change my minde,

And partly credit things that do presage. Comming from Sardis, on our
former Ensigne Two mighty Eagles fell, and there they pearch'd, Gorging
and feeding from our Soldiers hands, Who to Philippi heere consorted
vs:

This Morning are they fled away, and gone, And in their steeds, do
Rauens, Crowes, and Kites Fly ore our heads, and downward looke on vs
As we were sickely prey; their shadowes seeme A Canopy most fatall,
vnder which

Our Army lies, ready to giue vp the Ghost

Messa. Beleeue not so

Cassi. I but beleeue it partly,

For I am fresh of spirit, and resolu'd

To meete all perils, very constantly

Bru. Euen so Lucillius

Cassi. Now most Noble Brutus,

The Gods to day stand friendly, that we may Louers in peace, leade on
our dayes to age. But since the affayres of men rests still incertaine,
Let's reason with the worst that may befall. If we do lose this
Battaile, then is this The very last time we shall speake together:
What are you then determined to do?

Bru. Euen by the rule of that Philosophy, By which I did blame Cato,
for the death

Which he did giue himselfe, I know not how: But I do finde it Cowardly,
and vile,

For feare of what might fall, so to preuent The time of life, arming my
selfe with patience, To stay the prouidence of some high Powers, That
gouerne vs below

Cassi. Then, if we loose this Battaile, You are contented to be led
in Triumph

Thorow the streets of Rome

Bru. No Cassius, no:

Thinke not thou Noble Romane,

That euer Brutus will go bound to Rome,

He beares too great a minde. But this same day Must end that worke, the
Ides of March begun. And whether we shall meete againe, I know not:
Therefore our euerlasting farewell take:

For euer, and for euer, farewell Cassius, If we do meete againe, why we
shall smile; If not, why then this parting was well made

Cassi. For euer, and for euer, farewell Brutus: If we do meete
againe, wee'l smile indeede; If not, 'tis true, this parting was well
made

Bru. Why then leade on. O that a man might know The end of this
dayes businesse, ere it come: But it sufficeth, that the day will end,

And then the end is knowne. Come ho, away.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Brutus and Messala.

Bru. Ride, ride Messala, ride and giue these Billes Vnto the Legions,
on the other side.

Lowd Alarum.

Let them set on at once: for I perceiue

But cold demeanor in Octauio's wing:

And sodaine push giues them the ouerthrow: Ride, ride Messala, let them
all come downe.

Exeunt.

Alarums. Enter Cassius and Titinius.

Cassi. O looke Titinius, looke, the Villaines flye: My selfe haue to
mine owne turn'd Enemy:

This Ensigne heere of mine was turning backe, I slew the Coward, and
did take it from him

Titin. O Cassius, Brutus gaue the word too early, Who hauing some
aduantage on Octauius,

Tooke it too eagerly: his Soldiers fell to spoyle, Whilst we by Antony
are all inclos'd.

Enter Pindarus.

Pind. Fly further off my Lord: flye further off, Mark Antony is in
your Tents my Lord:

Flye therefore Noble Cassius, flye farre off

Cassi. This Hill is farre enough. Looke, look Titinius Are those my
Tents where I perceiue the fire?   Tit. They are, my Lord

Cassi. Titinius, if thou louest me,

Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurres in him, Till he haue brought
thee vp to yonder Troopes And heere againe, that I may rest assur'd
Whether yond Troopes, are Friend or Enemy

Tit. I will be heere againe, euen with a thought. Enter.

Cassi. Go Pindarus, get higher on that hill, My sight was euer
thicke: regard Titinius, And tell me what thou not'st about the Field.
This day I breathed first, Time is come round, And where I did begin,
there shall I end, My life is run his compasse. Sirra, what newes?
Pind. Aboue. O my Lord

Cassi. What newes?

Pind. Titinius is enclosed round about

With Horsemen, that make to him on the Spurre, Yet he spurres on. Now
they are almost on him: Now Titinius. Now some light: O he lights too.
Hee's tane.

Showt.

And hearke, they shout for ioy

Cassi. Come downe, behold no more:

O Coward that I am, to liue so long,

To see my best Friend tane before my face Enter Pindarus.

Come hither sirrah: In Parthia did I take thee Prisoner, And then I
swore thee, sauing of thy life, That whatsoeuer I did bid thee do,

Thou should'st attempt it. Come now, keepe thine oath, Now be a
Free-man, and with this good Sword That ran through Caesars bowels,
search this bosome. Stand not to answer: Heere, take thou the Hilts,
And when my face is couer'd, as 'tis now, Guide thou the Sword- Caesar,
thou art reueng'd, Euen with the Sword that kill'd thee

Pin. So, I am free,

Yet would not so haue beene

Durst I haue done my will. O Cassius,

Farre from this Country Pindarus shall run, Where neuer Roman shall
take note of him. Enter Titinius and Messala.

Messa. It is but change, Titinius: for Octauius Is ouerthrowne by
Noble Brutus power,

As Cassius Legions are by Antony

Titin. These tydings will well comfort Cassius

Messa. Where did you leaue him

Titin. All disconsolate,

With Pindarus his Bondman, on this Hill

Messa. Is not that he that lyes vpon the ground?   Titin. He lies
not like the Liuing. O my heart!   Messa. Is not that hee?

Titin. No, this was he Messala,

But Cassius is no more. O setting Sunne:

As in thy red Rayes thou doest sinke to night; So in his red blood
Cassius day is set.

The Sunne of Rome is set. Our day is gone, Clowds, Dewes, and Dangers
come; our deeds are done: Mistrust of my successe hath done this deed

Messa. Mistrust of good successe hath done this deed. O hatefull
Error, Melancholies Childe:

Why do'st thou shew to the apt thoughts of men The things that are not?
O Error soone conceyu'd, Thou neuer com'st vnto a happy byrth,

But kil'st the Mother that engendred thee

Tit. What Pindarus? Where art thou Pindarus?   Messa. Seeke him
Titinius, whilst I go to meet The Noble Brutus, thrusting this report

Into his eares; I may say thrusting it:

For piercing Steele, and Darts inuenomed, Shall be as welcome to the
eares of Brutus, As tydings of this sight

Tit. Hye you Messala,

And I will seeke for Pindarus the while:

Why did'st thou send me forth braue Cassius? Did I not meet thy
Friends, and did not they Put on my Browes this wreath of Victorie, And
bid me giue it thee? Did'st thou not heare their showts? Alas, thou
hast misconstrued euery thing. But hold thee, take this Garland on thy
Brow, Thy Brutus bid me giue it thee, and I

Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace,

And see how I regarded Caius Cassius:

By your leaue Gods: This is a Romans part, Come Cassius Sword, and
finde Titinius hart.

Dies

Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, yong Cato, Strato, Volumnius, and
Lucillius.

Bru. Where, where Messala, doth his body lye?   Messa. Loe yonder,
and Titinius mourning it

Bru. Titinius face is vpward

Cato. He is slaine

Bru. O Iulius Caesar, thou art mighty yet, Thy Spirit walkes abroad,
and turnes our Swords In our owne proper Entrailes. Low Alarums

Cato. Braue Titinius,

Looke where he haue not crown'd dead Cassius

Bru. Are yet two Romans liuing such as these? The last of all the
Romans, far thee well: It is impossible, that euer Rome

Should breed thy fellow. Friends I owe mo teares To this dead man, then
you shall see me pay. I shall finde time, Cassius: I shall finde time.
Come therefore, and to Tharsus send his body, His Funerals shall not be
in our Campe,

Least it discomfort vs. Lucillius come,

And come yong Cato, let vs to the Field,

Labio and Flauio set our Battailes on:

'Tis three a clocke, and Romans yet ere night, We shall try Fortune in
a second fight.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, Cato, Lucillius, and Flauius.

Bru. Yet Country-men: O yet, hold vp your heads

Cato. What Bastard doth not? Who will go with me? I will proclaime
my name about the Field. I am the Sonne of Marcus Cato, hoe.

A Foe to Tyrants, and my Countries Friend. I am the Sonne of Marcus
Cato, hoe.

Enter Souldiers, and fight.

And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I,

Brutus my Countries Friend: Know me for Brutus

Luc. O yong and Noble Cato, art thou downe? Why now thou dyest, as
brauely as Titinius, And may'st be honour'd, being Cato's Sonne

Sold. Yeeld, or thou dyest

Luc. Onely I yeeld to dye:

There is so much, that thou wilt kill me straight: Kill Brutus, and be
honour'd in his death

Sold. We must not: a Noble Prisoner.

Enter Antony.

2.Sold. Roome hoe: tell Antony, Brutus is tane

1.Sold. Ile tell thee newes. Heere comes the Generall, Brutus is
tane, Brutus is tane my Lord

Ant. Where is hee?

Luc. Safe Antony, Brutus is safe enough: I dare assure thee, that no
Enemy

Shall euer take aliue the Noble Brutus:

The Gods defend him from so great a shame, When you do finde him, or
aliue, or dead, He will be found like Brutus, like himselfe

Ant. This is not Brutus friend, but I assure you, A prize no lesse
in worth; keepe this man safe, Giue him all kindnesse. I had rather
haue Such men my Friends, then Enemies. Go on, And see where Brutus be
aliue or dead,

And bring vs word, vnto Octauius Tent:

How euery thing is chanc'd.

Exeunt.

Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius.

Brut. Come poore remaines of friends, rest on this Rocke

Clit. Statillius shew'd the Torch-light, but my Lord He came not
backe: he is or tane, or slaine

Brut. Sit thee downe, Clitus: slaying is the word, It is a deed in
fashion. Hearke thee, Clitus

Clit. What I, my Lord? No, not for all the World

Brut. Peace then, no words

Clit. Ile rather kill my selfe

Brut. Hearke thee, Dardanius

Dard. Shall I doe such a deed?

Clit. O Dardanius

Dard. O Clitus

Clit. What ill request did Brutus make to thee?   Dard. To kill him,
Clitus: looke he meditates

Clit. Now is that Noble Vessell full of griefe, That it runnes ouer
euen at his eyes

Brut. Come hither, good Volumnius, list a word

Volum. What sayes my Lord?

Brut. Why this, Volumnius:

The Ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to me

Two seuerall times by Night: at Sardis, once; And this last Night, here
in Philippi fields: I know my houre is come

Volum. Not so, my Lord

Brut. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. Thou seest the World,
Volumnius, how it goes, Our Enemies haue beat vs to the Pit:

Low Alarums.

It is more worthy, to leape in our selues, Then tarry till they push
vs. Good Volumnius, Thou know'st, that we two went to Schoole together:
Euen for that our loue of old, I prethee

Hold thou my Sword Hilts, whilest I runne on it

Vol. That's not an Office for a friend, my Lord.

Alarum still.

Cly. Fly, flye my Lord, there is no tarrying heere

Bru. Farewell to you, and you, and Volumnius. Strato, thou hast bin
all this while asleepe: Farewell to thee, to Strato, Countrymen:

My heart doth ioy, that yet in all my life, I found no man, but he was
true to me.

I shall haue glory by this loosing day

More then Octauius, and Marke Antony,

By this vile Conquest shall attaine vnto. So fare you well at once, for
Brutus tongue Hath almost ended his liues History:

Night hangs vpon mine eyes, my Bones would rest, That haue but
labour'd, to attaine this houre.

Alarum. Cry within, Flye, flye, flye.

Cly. Fly my Lord, flye

Bru. Hence: I will follow:

I prythee Strato, stay thou by thy Lord,

Thou art a Fellow of a good respect:

Thy life hath had some smatch of Honor in it, Hold then my Sword, and
turne away thy face, While I do run vpon it. Wilt thou Strato?   Stra.
Giue me your hand first. Fare you wel my Lord

Bru. Farewell good Strato. - Caesar, now be still, I kill'd not thee
with halfe so good a will. Dyes.

Alarum. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octauius, Messala, Lucillius, and the

Army.

Octa. What man is that?

Messa. My Masters man. Strato, where is thy Master?   Stra. Free from
the Bondage you are in Messala, The Conquerors can but make a fire of
him: For Brutus onely ouercame himselfe,

And no man else hath Honor by his death

Lucil. So Brutus should be found. I thank thee Brutus That thou hast
prou'd Lucillius saying true,   Octa. All that seru'd Brutus, I will
entertaine them. Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?   Stra. I,
if Messala will preferre me to you

Octa. Do so, good Messala

Messa. How dyed my Master Strato?

Stra. I held the Sword, and he did run on it

Messa. Octauius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest
seruice to my Master

Ant. This was the Noblest Roman of them all: All the Conspirators
saue onely hee,

Did that they did, in enuy of great Caesar: He, onely in a generall
honest thought,

And common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the
Elements

So mixt in him, that Nature might stand vp, And say to all the world;
This was a man

Octa. According to his Vertue, let vs vse him Withall Respect, and
Rites of Buriall.

Within my Tent his bones to night shall ly, Most like a Souldier
ordered Honourably:

So call the Field to rest, and let's away, To part the glories of this
happy day.

Exeunt. omnes.



FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF IVLIVS CaeSAR.



The Tragedie of Macbeth

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches.

1. When shall we three meet againe?

In Thunder, Lightning, or in Raine?

2. When the Hurley-burley's done,

When the Battaile's lost, and wonne

3. That will be ere the set of Sunne

1. Where the place?

2. Vpon the Heath

3. There to meet with Macbeth

1. I come, Gray-Malkin

All. Padock calls anon: faire is foule, and foule is faire, Houer
through the fogge and filthie ayre.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Alarum within. Enter King Malcome, Donalbaine, Lenox, with attendants,

meeting a bleeding Captaine.

King. What bloody man is that? he can report, As seemeth by his
plight, of the Reuolt

The newest state

Mal. This is the Serieant,

Who like a good and hardie Souldier fought 'Gainst my Captiuitie: Haile
braue friend; Say to the King, the knowledge of the Broyle, As thou
didst leaue it

Cap. Doubtfull it stood,

As two spent Swimmers, that doe cling together, And choake their Art:
The mercilesse Macdonwald (Worthie to be a Rebell, for to that

The multiplying Villanies of Nature

Doe swarme vpon him) from the Westerne Isles Of Kernes and
Gallowgrosses is supply'd,

And Fortune on his damned Quarry smiling, Shew'd like a Rebells Whore:
but all's too weake: For braue Macbeth (well hee deserues that Name)
Disdayning Fortune, with his brandisht Steele, Which smoak'd with
bloody execution

(Like Valours Minion) caru'd out his passage, Till hee fac'd the
Slaue:

Which neu'r shooke hands, nor bad farwell to him, Till he vnseam'd him
from the Naue toth' Chops, And fix'd his Head vpon our Battlements

King. O valiant Cousin, worthy Gentleman

Cap. As whence the Sunne 'gins his reflection, Shipwracking Stormes,
and direfull Thunders: So from that Spring, whence comfort seem'd to
come, Discomfort swells: Marke King of Scotland, marke, No sooner
Iustice had, with Valour arm'd, Compell'd these skipping Kernes to
trust their heeles, But the Norweyan Lord, surueying vantage, With
furbusht Armes, and new supplyes of men, Began a fresh assault

King. Dismay'd not this our Captaines, Macbeth and Banquoh?

Cap. Yes, as Sparrowes, Eagles;

Or the Hare, the Lyon:

If I say sooth, I must report they were

As Cannons ouer-charg'd with double Cracks, So they doubly redoubled
stroakes vpon the Foe: Except they meant to bathe in reeking Wounds, Or
memorize another Golgotha,

I cannot tell: but I am faint,

My Gashes cry for helpe

King. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds, They smack of
Honor both: Goe get him Surgeons. Enter Rosse and Angus.

Who comes here?

Mal. The worthy Thane of Rosse

Lenox. What a haste lookes through his eyes? So should he looke,
that seemes to speake things strange

Rosse. God saue the King

King. Whence cam'st thou, worthy Thane?   Rosse. From Fiffe, great
King,

Where the Norweyan Banners flowt the Skie, And fanne our people cold.

Norway himselfe, with terrible numbers,

Assisted by that most disloyall Traytor,

The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismall Conflict, Till that Bellona's
Bridegroome, lapt in proofe, Confronted him with selfe-comparisons,

Point against Point, rebellious Arme 'gainst Arme, Curbing his lauish
spirit: and to conclude, The Victorie fell on vs

King. Great happinesse

Rosse. That now Sweno, the Norwayes King, Craues composition:

Nor would we deigne him buriall of his men, Till he disbursed, at Saint
Colmes ynch,

Ten thousand Dollars, to our generall vse

King. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceiue Our Bosome
interest: Goe pronounce his present death, And with his former Title
greet Macbeth

Rosse. Ile see it done

King. What he hath lost, Noble Macbeth hath wonne.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

1. Where hast thou beene, Sister?

2. Killing Swine

3. Sister, where thou?

1. A Saylors Wife had Chestnuts in her Lappe, And mouncht, & mouncht,
and mouncht:

Giue me, quoth I.

Aroynt thee, Witch, the rumpe-fed Ronyon cryes. Her Husband's to Aleppo
gone, Master o'th' Tiger: But in a Syue Ile thither sayle,

And like a Rat without a tayle,

Ile doe, Ile doe, and Ile doe

2. Ile giue thee a Winde

1. Th'art kinde

3. And I another

1. I my selfe haue all the other,

And the very Ports they blow,

All the Quarters that they know,

I'th' Ship-mans Card.

Ile dreyne him drie as Hay:

Sleepe shall neyther Night nor Day

Hang vpon his Pent-house Lid:

He shall liue a man forbid:

Wearie Seu'nights, nine times nine,

Shall he dwindle, peake, and pine:

Though his Barke cannot be lost,

Yet it shall be Tempest-tost.

Looke what I haue

2. Shew me, shew me

1. Here I haue a Pilots Thumbe,

Wrackt, as homeward he did come.

Drum within.

3. A Drumme, a Drumme:

Macbeth doth come

All. The weyward Sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the Sea and
Land,

Thus doe goe, about, about,

Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,

And thrice againe, to make vp nine.

Peace, the Charme's wound vp.

Enter Macbeth and Banquo.

Macb. So foule and faire a day I haue not seene

Banquo. How farre is't call'd to Soris? What are these, So wither'd,
and so wilde in their attyre, That looke not like th' Inhabitants o'th'
Earth, And yet are on't? Liue you, or are you aught That man may
question? you seeme to vnderstand me, By each at once her choppie
finger laying Vpon her skinnie Lips: you should be Women, And yet your
Beards forbid me to interprete That you are so

Mac. Speake if you can: what are you?

1. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee Thane of Glamis

2. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee Thane of Cawdor

3. All haile Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter

Banq. Good Sir, why doe you start, and seeme to feare Things that
doe sound so faire? i'th' name of truth Are ye fantasticall, or that
indeed

Which outwardly ye shew? My Noble Partner You greet with present Grace,
and great prediction Of Noble hauing, and of Royall hope,

That he seemes wrapt withall: to me you speake not. If you can looke
into the Seedes of Time, And say, which Graine will grow, and which
will not, Speake then to me, who neyther begge, nor feare Your fauors,
nor your hate

1. Hayle

2. Hayle

3. Hayle

1. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater

2. Not so happy, yet much happyer

3. Thou shalt get Kings, though thou be none: So all haile Macbeth,
and Banquo

1. Banquo, and Macbeth, all haile

Macb. Stay you imperfect Speakers, tell me more: By Sinells death, I
know I am Thane of Glamis, But how, of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor
liues A prosperous Gentleman: And to be King,

Stands not within the prospect of beleefe, No more then to be Cawdor.
Say from whence You owe this strange Intelligence, or why Vpon this
blasted Heath you stop our way

With such Prophetique greeting?

Speake, I charge you.

Witches vanish.

Banq. The Earth hath bubbles, as the Water ha's, And these are of
them: whither are they vanish'd?   Macb. Into the Ayre: and what seem'd
corporall, Melted, as breath into the Winde.

Would they had stay'd

Banq. Were such things here, as we doe speake about? Or haue we
eaten on the insane Root,

That takes the Reason Prisoner?

Macb. Your Children shall be Kings

Banq. You shall be King

Macb. And Thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?   Banq. Toth'
selfe-same tune and words: who's here? Enter Rosse and Angus.

Rosse. The King hath happily receiu'd, Macbeth, The newes of thy
successe: and when he reades Thy personall Venture in the Rebels sight,
His Wonders and his Prayses doe contend,

Which should be thine, or his: silenc'd with that, In viewing o're the
rest o'th' selfe-same day, He findes thee in the stout Norweyan Rankes,
Nothing afeard of what thy selfe didst make Strange Images of death, as
thick as Tale Can post with post, and euery one did beare Thy prayses
in his Kingdomes great defence, And powr'd them downe before him

Ang. Wee are sent,

To giue thee from our Royall Master thanks, Onely to harrold thee into
his sight,

Not pay thee

Rosse. And for an earnest of a greater Honor, He bad me, from him,
call thee Thane of Cawdor: In which addition, haile most worthy Thane,
For it is thine

Banq. What, can the Deuill speake true?   Macb. The Thane of Cawdor
liues:

Why doe you dresse me in borrowed Robes?

Ang. Who was the Thane, liues yet,

But vnder heauie Iudgement beares that Life, Which he deserues to
loose.

Whether he was combin'd with those of Norway, Or did lyne the Rebell
with hidden helpe, And vantage; or that with both he labour'd In his
Countreyes wracke, I know not:

But Treasons Capitall, confess'd, and prou'd, Haue ouerthrowne him

Macb. Glamys, and Thane of Cawdor:

The greatest is behinde. Thankes for your paines. Doe you not hope your
Children shall be Kings, When those that gaue the Thane of Cawdor to
me, Promis'd no lesse to them

Banq. That trusted home,

Might yet enkindle you vnto the Crowne,

Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange: And oftentimes, to winne
vs to our harme, The Instruments of Darknesse tell vs Truths, Winne vs
with honest Trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence.

Cousins, a word, I pray you

Macb. Two Truths are told,

As happy Prologues to the swelling Act

Of the Imperiall Theame. I thanke you Gentlemen: This supernaturall
solliciting

Cannot be ill; cannot be good.

If ill? why hath it giuen me earnest of successe, Commencing in a
Truth? I am Thane of Cawdor. If good? why doe I yeeld to that
suggestion, Whose horrid Image doth vnfixe my Heire,

And make my seated Heart knock at my Ribbes, Against the vse of Nature?
Present Feares Are lesse then horrible Imaginings:

My Thought, whose Murther yet is but fantasticall, Shakes so my single
state of Man,

That Function is smother'd in surmise,

And nothing is, but what is not

Banq. Looke how our Partner's rapt

Macb. If Chance will haue me King,

Why Chance may Crowne me,

Without my stirre

Banq. New Honors come vpon him

Like our strange Garments, cleaue not to their mould, But with the aid
of vse

Macb. Come what come may,

Time, and the Houre, runs through the roughest Day

Banq. Worthy Macbeth, wee stay vpon your leysure

Macb. Giue me your fauour:

My dull Braine was wrought with things forgotten. Kinde Gentlemen, your
paines are registred, Where euery day I turne the Leafe,

To reade them.

Let vs toward the King: thinke vpon

What hath chanc'd: and at more time,

The Interim hauing weigh'd it, let vs speake Our free Hearts each to
other

Banq. Very gladly

Macb. Till then enough:

Come friends.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Flourish. Enter King, Lenox, Malcolme, Donalbaine, and Attendants.

King. Is execution done on Cawdor?

Or not those in Commission yet return'd?

Mal. My Liege, they are not yet come back. But I haue spoke with one
that saw him die: Who did report, that very frankly hee

Confess'd his Treasons, implor'd your Highnesse Pardon, And set forth a
deepe Repentance:

Nothing in his Life became him,

Like the leauing it. Hee dy'de,

As one that had beene studied in his death, To throw away the dearest
thing he ow'd,

As 'twere a carelesse Trifle

King. There's no Art,

To finde the Mindes construction in the Face. He was a Gentleman, on
whom I built

An absolute Trust.

Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.

O worthyest Cousin,

The sinne of my Ingratitude euen now

Was heauie on me. Thou art so farre before, That swiftest Wing of
Recompence is slow, To ouertake thee. Would thou hadst lesse deseru'd,
That the proportion both of thanks, and payment, Might haue beene mine:
onely I haue left to say, More is thy due, then more then all can pay

Macb. The seruice, and the loyaltie I owe, In doing it, payes it
selfe.

Your Highnesse part, is to receiue our Duties: And our Duties are to
your Throne, and State, Children, and Seruants; which doe but what they
should, By doing euery thing safe toward your Loue And Honor

King. Welcome hither:

I haue begun to plant thee, and will labour To make thee full of
growing. Noble Banquo, That hast no lesse deseru'd, nor must be knowne
No lesse to haue done so: Let me enfold thee, And hold thee to my
Heart

Banq. There if I grow,

The Haruest is your owne

King. My plenteous Ioyes,

Wanton in fulnesse, seeke to hide themselues In drops of sorrow.
Sonnes, Kinsmen, Thanes, And you whose places are the nearest, know, We
will establish our Estate vpon

Our eldest, Malcolme, whom we name hereafter, The Prince of Cumberland:
which Honor must Not vnaccompanied, inuest him onely,

But signes of Noblenesse, like Starres, shall shine On all deseruers.
From hence to Envernes, And binde vs further to you

Macb. The Rest is Labor, which is not vs'd for you: Ile be my selfe
the Herbenger, and make ioyfull The hearing of my Wife, with your
approach: So humbly take my leaue

King. My worthy Cawdor

Macb. The Prince of Cumberland: that is a step, On which I must fall
downe, or else o're-leape, For in my way it lyes. Starres hide your
fires, Let not Light see my black and deepe desires: The Eye winke at
the Hand: yet let that bee, Which the Eye feares, when it is done to
see. Enter.

King. 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 vs welcome: It is a peerelesse
Kinsman.

Flourish. Exeunt.



Scena Quinta.

Enter Macbeths Wife alone with a Letter.

Lady. They met me in the day of successe: and I haue learn'd by the
perfect'st report, they haue more in them, then mortall knowledge. When
I burnt in desire to question them further, they made themselues Ayre,
into which they vanish'd. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came
Missiues from the King, who all-hail'd me Thane of Cawdor, by which
Title before, these weyward Sisters saluted me, and referr'd me to the
comming on of time, with haile King that shalt be. This haue I thought
good to deliuer thee (my dearest Partner of Greatnesse) that thou
might'st not loose the dues of reioycing by being ignorant of what
Greatnesse is promis'd thee. Lay it to thy heart and farewell.

Glamys thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be What thou art promis'd: yet
doe I feare thy Nature, It is too full o'th' Milke of humane kindnesse,
To catch the neerest way. Thou would'st be great, Art not without
Ambition, but without

The illnesse should attend it. What thou would'st highly, That would'st
thou holily: would'st not play false, And yet would'st wrongly winne.

Thould'st haue, great Glamys, that which cryes, Thus thou must doe, if
thou haue it;

And that which rather thou do'st feare to doe, Then wishest should be
vndone. High thee hither, That I may powre my Spirits in thine Eare,
And chastise with the valour of my Tongue All that impeides thee from
the Golden Round, Which Fate and Metaphysicall ayde doth seeme To haue
thee crown'd withall.

Enter Messenger.

What is your tidings?

Mess. The King comes here to Night

Lady. Thou'rt mad to say it.

Is not thy Master with him? who, wer't so, Would haue inform'd for
preparation

Mess. So please you, it is true: our Thane is comming: One of my
fellowes had the speed of him;

Who almost dead for breath, had scarcely more Then would make vp his
Message

Lady. Giue him tending,

He brings great newes,

Exit Messenger.

The Rauen himselfe is hoarse,

That croakes the fatall entrance of Duncan Vnder my Battlements. Come
you Spirits,

That tend on mortall thoughts, vnsex me here, And fill me from the
Crowne to the Toe, top-full Of direst Crueltie: make thick my blood,

Stop vp th' accesse, and passage to Remorse, That no compunctious
visitings of Nature

Shake my fell purpose, nor keepe peace betweene Th' effect, and hit.
Come to my Womans Brests, And take my Milke for Gall, you murth'ring
Ministers, Where-euer, in your sightlesse substances, You wait on
Natures Mischiefe. Come thick Night, And pall thee in the dunnest
smoake of Hell, That my keene Knife see not the Wound it makes, Nor
Heauen peepe through the Blanket of the darke, To cry, hold, hold.

Enter Macbeth.

Great Glamys, worthy Cawdor,

Greater then both, by the all-haile hereafter, Thy Letters haue
transported me beyond

This ignorant present, and I feele now

The future in the instant

Macb. My dearest Loue,

Duncan comes here to Night

Lady. And when goes hence?

Macb. To morrow, as he purposes

Lady. O neuer,

Shall Sunne that Morrow see.

Your Face, my Thane, is as a Booke, where men May reade strange
matters, to beguile the time. Looke like the time, beare welcome in
your Eye, Your Hand, your Tongue: looke like th' innocent flower, But
be the Serpent vnder't. He that's comming, Must be prouided for: and
you shall put

This Nights great Businesse into my dispatch, Which shall to all our
Nights, and Dayes to come, Giue solely soueraigne sway, and Masterdome

Macb. We will speake further,

Lady. Onely looke vp cleare:

To alter fauor, euer is to feare:

Leaue all the rest to me.

Exeunt.



Scena Sexta.

Hoboyes, and Torches. Enter King, Malcolme, Donalbaine, Banquo, Lenox,

Macduff, Rosse, Angus, and Attendants.

King. This Castle hath a pleasant seat, The ayre nimbly and sweetly
recommends it selfe Vnto our gentle sences

Banq. This Guest of Summer,

The Temple-haunting Barlet does approue,

By his loued Mansonry, that the Heauens breath Smells wooingly here: no
Iutty frieze,

Buttrice, nor Coigne of Vantage, but this Bird Hath made his pendant
Bed, and procreant Cradle, Where they must breed, and haunt: I haue
obseru'd The ayre is delicate.

Enter Lady.

King. See, see our honor'd Hostesse:

The Loue that followes vs, sometime is our trouble, Which still we
thanke as Loue. Herein I teach you, How you shall bid God-eyld vs for
your paines, And thanke vs for your trouble

Lady. All our seruice,

In euery point twice done, and then done double, Were poore, and single
Businesse, to contend Against those Honors deepe, and broad,

Wherewith your Maiestie loades our House: For those of old, and the
late Dignities, Heap'd vp to them, we rest your Ermites

King. Where's the Thane of Cawdor?

We courst him at the heeles, and had a purpose To be his Purueyor: But
he rides well,

And his great Loue (sharpe as his Spurre) hath holp him To his home
before vs: Faire and Noble Hostesse We are your guest to night

La. Your Seruants euer,

Haue theirs, themselues, and what is theirs in compt, To make their
Audit at your Highnesse pleasure, Still to returne your owne

King. Giue me your hand:

Conduct me to mine Host we loue him highly, And shall continue, our
Graces towards him. By your leaue Hostesse.

Exeunt.

Scena Septima.

Hoboyes. Torches. Enter a Sewer, and diuers Seruants with Dishes and

Seruice ouer the Stage. Then enter Macbeth

Macb. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twer well, It were done
quickly: If th' Assassination Could trammell vp the Consequence, and
catch With his surcease, Successe: that but this blow Might be the be
all, and the end all. Heere, But heere, vpon this Banke and Schoole of
time, Wee'ld iumpe the life to come. But in these Cases, We still haue
iudgement heere, that we but teach Bloody Instructions, which being
taught, returne To plague th' Inuenter, this euen-handed Iustice
Commends th' Ingredience of our poyson'd Challice To our owne lips.
Hee's heere in double trust; First, as I am his Kinsman, and his
Subiect, Strong both against the Deed: Then, as his Host, Who should
against his Murtherer shut the doore, Not beare the knife my selfe.
Besides, this Duncane Hath borne his Faculties so meeke; hath bin So
cleere in his great Office, that his Vertues Will pleade like Angels,
Trumpet-tongu'd against The deepe damnation of his taking off:

And Pitty, like a naked New-borne-Babe,

Striding the blast, or Heauens Cherubin, hors'd Vpon the sightlesse
Curriors of the Ayre, Shall blow the horrid deed in euery eye,

That teares shall drowne the winde. I haue no Spurre To pricke the
sides of my intent, but onely Vaulting Ambition, which ore-leapes it
selfe, And falles on th' other.

Enter Lady.

How now? What Newes?

La. He has almost supt: why haue you left the chamber?   Mac. Hath he
ask'd for me?

La. Know you not, he ha's?

Mac. We will proceed no further in this Businesse: He hath Honour'd
me of late, and I haue bought Golden Opinions from all sorts of people,
Which would be worne now in their newest glosse, Not cast aside so
soone

La. Was the hope drunke,

Wherein you drest your selfe? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now to
looke so greene, and pale, At what it did so freely? From this time,
Such I account thy loue. Art thou affear'd To be the same in thine owne
Act, and Valour, As thou art in desire? Would'st thou haue that Which
thou esteem'st the Ornament of Life, And liue a Coward in thine owne
Esteeme?

Letting I dare not, wait vpon I would,

Like the poore Cat i'th' Addage

Macb. Prythee peace:

I dare do all that may become a man,

Who dares do more, is none

La. What Beast was't then

That made you breake this enterprize to me? When you durst do it, then
you were a man: And to be more then 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 haue made themselues, and that their fitnesse now Do's
vnmake you. I haue giuen Sucke, and know How tender 'tis to loue the
Babe that milkes me, I would, while it was smyling in my Face, Haue
pluckt my Nipple from his Bonelesse Gummes, And dasht the Braines out,
had I so sworne As you haue done to this

Macb. If we should faile?

Lady. We faile?

But screw your courage to the sticking place, And wee'le not fayle:
when Duncan is asleepe, (Whereto the rather shall his dayes hard
Iourney Soundly inuite him) his two Chamberlaines Will I with Wine, and
Wassell, so conuince, That Memorie, the Warder of the Braine,

Shall be a Fume, and the Receit of Reason A Lymbeck onely: when in
Swinish sleepe,

Their drenched Natures lyes as in a Death, What cannot you and I
performe vpon

Th' vnguarded Duncan? What not put vpon

His spungie Officers? who shall beare the guilt Of our great quell

Macb. Bring forth Men-Children onely:

For thy vndaunted Mettle should compose

Nothing but Males. Will it not be receiu'd, When we haue mark'd with
blood those sleepie two Of his owne Chamber, and vs'd their very
Daggers, That they haue don't?

Lady. Who dares receiue it other,

As we shall make our Griefes and Clamor rore, Vpon his Death?

Macb. I am settled, and bend vp

Each corporall Agent to this terrible Feat. Away, and mock the time
with fairest show, False Face must hide what the false Heart doth
know.

Exeunt.



Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Banquo, and Fleance, with a Torch before him.

Banq. How goes the Night, Boy?

Fleance. The Moone is downe: I haue not heard the Clock

Banq. And she goes downe at Twelue

Fleance. I take't, 'tis later, Sir

Banq. Hold, take my Sword:

There's Husbandry in Heauen,

Their Candles are all out: take thee that too. A heauie Summons lyes
like Lead vpon me,

And yet I would not sleepe:

Mercifull Powers, restraine in me the cursed thoughts That Nature giues
way to in repose.

Enter Macbeth, and a Seruant with a Torch.

Giue me my Sword: who's there?

Macb. A Friend

Banq. What Sir, not yet at rest? the King's a bed. He hath beene in
vnusuall Pleasure,

And sent forth great Largesse to your Offices. This Diamond he greetes
your Wife withall, By the name of most kind Hostesse,

And shut vp in measurelesse content

Mac. Being vnprepar'd,

Our will became the seruant to defect,

Which else should free haue wrought

Banq. All's well.

I dreamt last Night of the three weyward Sisters: To you they haue
shew'd some truth

Macb. I thinke not of them:

Yet when we can entreat an houre to serue, We would spend it in some
words vpon that Businesse, If you would graunt the time

Banq. At your kind'st leysure

Macb. If you shall cleaue to my consent, When 'tis, it shall make
Honor for you

Banq. So I lose none,

In seeking to augment it, but still keepe My Bosome franchis'd, and
Allegeance cleare, I shall be counsail'd

Macb. Good repose the while

Banq. Thankes Sir: the like to you.

Exit Banquo.

Macb. Goe bid thy Mistresse, when my drinke is ready, She strike vpon
the Bell. Get thee to bed. Enter.

Is this a Dagger, which I see before me,

The Handle toward my Hand? Come, let me clutch thee: I haue thee not,
and yet I see thee still. Art thou not fatall Vision, sensible

To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but

A Dagger of the Minde, a false Creation,

Proceeding from the heat-oppressed Braine? I see thee yet, in forme 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 vse.

Mine Eyes are made the fooles o'th' other Sences, 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
Businesse, which informes Thus to mine Eyes. Now o're the one halfe
World Nature seemes dead, and wicked Dreames abuse The Curtain'd
sleepe: Witchcraft celebrates Pale Heccats Offrings: and wither'd
Murther, Alarum'd by his Centinell, the Wolfe,

Whose howle's his Watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquins
rauishing sides, towards his designe Moues like a Ghost. Thou sowre and
firme-set Earth Heare not my steps, which they may walke, for feare Thy
very stones prate of my where-about,

And take the present horror from the time, Which now sutes with it.
Whiles I threat, he liues: Words to the heat of deedes too cold breath
giues.

A Bell rings.

I goe, and it is done: the Bell inuites me. Heare it not, Duncan, for
it is a Knell,

That summons thee to Heauen, or to Hell.

Enter.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Lady.

La. That which hath made the[m] drunk, hath made me bold: What hath
quench'd them, hath giuen me fire. Hearke, peace: it was the Owle that
shriek'd, The fatall Bell-man, which giues the stern'st good-night. He
is about it, the Doores are open:

And the surfeted Groomes doe mock their charge With Snores. I haue
drugg'd their Possets, That Death and Nature doe contend about them,
Whether they liue, or dye.

Enter Macbeth.

Macb. Who's there? what hoa?

Lady. Alack, I am afraid they haue awak'd, And 'tis not done: th'
attempt, and not the deed, Confounds vs: hearke: I lay'd their Daggers
ready, He could not misse 'em. Had he not resembled My Father as he
slept, I had don't.

My Husband?

Macb. I haue done the deed:

Didst thou not heare a noyse?

Lady. I heard the Owle schreame, and the Crickets cry. Did not you
speake?

Macb. When?

Lady. Now

Macb. As I descended?

Lady. I

Macb. Hearke, who lyes i'th' second Chamber?   Lady. Donalbaine

Mac. This is a sorry sight

Lady. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight

Macb. There's one did laugh in's sleepe, And one cry'd Murther, that
they did wake each other: I stood, and heard them: But they did say
their Prayers, And addrest them againe to sleepe

Lady. There are two lodg'd together

Macb. One cry'd God blesse vs, and Amen the other, As they had seene
me with these Hangmans hands: Listning their feare, I could not say
Amen, When they did say God blesse vs

Lady. Consider it not so deepely

Mac. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen? I had most need of
Blessing, and Amen stuck in my throat

Lady. These deeds must not be thought

After these wayes: so, it will make vs mad

Macb. Me thought I heard a voyce cry, Sleep no more: Macbeth does
murther Sleepe, the innocent Sleepe, Sleepe that knits vp the rauel'd
Sleeue of Care, The death of each dayes Life, sore Labors Bath, Balme
of hurt Mindes, great Natures second Course, Chiefe nourisher in Life's
Feast

Lady. What doe you meane?

Macb. Still it cry'd, Sleepe no more to all the House: Glamis hath
murther'd Sleepe, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleepe no more: Macbeth
shall sleepe no more

Lady. Who was it, that thus cry'd? why worthy Thane, You doe vnbend
your Noble strength, to thinke So braine-sickly of things: Goe get some
Water, And wash this filthie Witnesse from your Hand. Why did you bring
these Daggers from the place? They must lye there: goe carry them, and
smeare The sleepie Groomes with blood

Macb. Ile goe no more:

I am afraid, to thinke what I haue done:

Looke on't againe, I dare not

Lady. Infirme of purpose:

Giue me the Daggers: the sleeping, and the dead, Are but as Pictures:
'tis the Eye of Childhood, That feares a painted Deuill. If he doe
bleed, Ile guild the Faces of the Groomes withall, For it must seeme
their Guilt.

Enter.

Knocke within.

Macb. Whence is that knocking?

How is't with me, when euery noyse appalls me? What Hands are here?
hah: they pluck out mine Eyes. Will all great Neptunes Ocean wash this
blood Cleane from my Hand? no: this my Hand will rather The
multitudinous Seas incarnardine,

Making the Greene one, Red.

Enter Lady.

Lady. My Hands are of your colour: but I shame To weare a Heart so
white.

Knocke.

I heare a knocking at the South entry:

Retyre we to our Chamber:

A little Water cleares vs of this deed.

How easie is it then? your Constancie

Hath left you vnattended.

Knocke.

Hearke, more knocking.

Get on your Night-Gowne, least occasion call vs, And shew vs to be
Watchers: be not lost

So poorely in your thoughts

Macb. To know my deed,

Knocke.

'Twere best not know my selfe.

Wake Duncan with thy knocking:

I would thou could'st.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter a Porter. Knocking within.

Porter. Here's a knocking indeede: if a man were Porter of Hell Gate,
hee should haue old turning the Key.

Knock.

Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there

i'th' name of Belzebub? Here's a Farmer, that hang'd himselfe on th'
expectation of Plentie: Come in time, haue Napkins enow about you, here
you'le sweat for't.

Knock.

Knock, knock. Who's there in th' other Deuils Name? Faith here's an
Equiuocator, that could sweare in both the Scales against eyther Scale,
who committed Treason enough for Gods sake, yet could not equiuocate to
Heauen: oh come in, Equiuocator.

Knock.

Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there? 'Faith here's an English Taylor come
hither, for stealing out of a French Hose: Come in Taylor, here you may
rost your Goose. Knock.

Knock, Knock. Neuer at quiet: What are you? but this place is too cold
for Hell. Ile Deuill-Porter it no further: I had thought to haue let in
some of all Professions, that goe the Primrose way to th' euerlasting
Bonfire.

Knock.

Anon, anon, I pray you remember the Porter. Enter Macduff, and Lenox.

Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to Bed, That you doe lye
so late?

Port. Faith Sir, we were carowsing till the second Cock: And Drinke,
Sir, is a great prouoker of three things

Macd. What three things does Drinke especially prouoke?

Port. Marry, Sir, Nose-painting, Sleepe, and Vrine. Lecherie, Sir, it
prouokes, and vnprouokes: it prouokes the desire, but it takes away the
performance. Therefore much Drinke may be said to be an Equiuocator
with Lecherie: it makes him, and it marres him; it sets him on, and it
takes him off; it perswades him, and dis-heartens him; makes him stand
too, and not stand too: in conclusion, equiuocates him in a sleepe, and
giuing him the Lye, leaues him

Macd. I beleeue, Drinke gaue thee the Lye last Night

Port. That it did, Sir, i'the very Throat on me: but I requited him
for his Lye, and (I thinke) being too strong for him, though he tooke
vp my Legges sometime, yet I made a Shift to cast him.

Enter Macbeth.

Macd. Is thy Master stirring?

Our knocking ha's awak'd him: here he comes

Lenox. Good morrow, Noble Sir

Macb. Good morrow both

Macd. Is the King stirring, worthy Thane?   Macb. Not yet

Macd. He did command me to call timely on him, I haue almost slipt
the houre

Macb. Ile bring you to him

Macd. I know this is a ioyfull trouble to you: But yet 'tis one

Macb. The labour we delight in, Physicks paine: This is the Doore

Macd. Ile make so bold to call, for 'tis my limitted seruice.

Exit Macduffe.

Lenox. Goes the King hence to day?

Macb. He does: he did appoint so

Lenox. The Night ha's been vnruly:

Where we lay, our Chimneys were blowne downe, And (as they say)
lamentings heard i'th' Ayre; Strange Schreemes of Death,

And Prophecying, with Accents terrible,

Of dyre Combustion, and confus'd Euents,

New hatch'd toth' wofull time.

The obscure Bird clamor'd the liue-long Night. Some say, the Earth was
Feuorous,

And did shake

Macb. 'Twas a rough Night

Lenox. My young remembrance cannot paralell A fellow to it.

Enter Macduff.

Macd. O horror, horror, horror,

Tongue nor Heart cannot conceiue, nor name thee

Macb. and Lenox. What's the matter?

Macd. Confusion now hath made his Master-peece: Most sacrilegious
Murther hath broke ope

The Lords anoynted Temple, and stole thence The Life o'th' Building

Macb. What is't you say, the Life?

Lenox. Meane you his Maiestie?

Macd. Approch the Chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon.
Doe not bid me speake: See, and then speake your selues: awake, awake,

Exeunt. Macbeth and Lenox.

Ring the Alarum Bell: Murther, and Treason, Banquo, and Donalbaine:
Malcolme awake,

Shake off this Downey sleepe, Deaths counterfeit, And looke on Death it
selfe: vp, vp, and see The great Doomes Image: Malcolme, Banquo, As
from your Graues rise vp, and walke like Sprights, To countenance this
horror. Ring the Bell.

Bell rings. Enter Lady.

Lady. What's the Businesse?

That such a hideous Trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the House?
speake, speake

Macd. O gentle Lady,

'Tis not for you to heare what I can speake: The repetition in a Womans
eare,

Would murther as it fell.

Enter Banquo.

O Banquo, Banquo, Our Royall Master's murther'd

Lady. Woe, alas:

What, in our House?

Ban. Too cruell, any where.

Deare Duff, I prythee contradict thy selfe, And say, it is not so.

Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Rosse.

Macb. Had I but dy'd an houre before this chance, I had liu'd a
blessed time: for from this instant, There's nothing serious in
Mortalitie:

All is but Toyes: Renowne and Grace is dead, The Wine of Life is
drawne, and the meere Lees Is left this Vault, to brag of.

Enter Malcolme and Donalbaine.

Donal. What is amisse?

Macb. You are, and doe not know't:

The Spring, the Head, the Fountaine of your Blood Is stopt, the very
Source of it is stopt

Macd. Your Royall Father's murther'd

Mal. Oh, by whom?

Lenox. Those of his Chamber, as it seem'd, had don't: Their Hands and
Faces were all badg'd with blood, So were their Daggers, which vnwip'd,
we found Vpon their Pillowes: they star'd, and were distracted, No mans
Life was to be trusted with them

Macb. O, yet I doe repent me of my furie, That I did kill them

Macd. Wherefore did you so?

Macb. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temp'rate, & furious, Loyall, and
Neutrall, in a moment? No man: Th' expedition of my violent Loue

Out-run the pawser, Reason. Here lay Duncan, His Siluer skinne, lac'd
with His Golden Blood, And his gash'd Stabs, look'd like a Breach in
Nature, For Ruines wastfull entrance: there the Murtherers, Steep'd in
the Colours of their Trade; their Daggers Vnmannerly breech'd with
gore: who could refraine, That had a heart to loue; and in that heart,
Courage, to make's loue knowne?

Lady. Helpe me hence, hoa

Macd. Looke to the Lady

Mal. Why doe we hold our tongues,

That most may clayme this argument for ours?   Donal. What should be
spoken here,

Where our Fate hid in an augure hole,

May rush, and seize vs? Let's away,

Our Teares are not yet brew'd

Mal. Nor our strong Sorrow

Vpon the foot of Motion

Banq. Looke to the Lady:

And when we haue our naked Frailties hid, That suffer in exposure; let
vs meet,

And question this most bloody piece of worke, To know it further.
Feares and scruples shake vs: In the great Hand of God I stand, and
thence, Against the vndivulg'd pretence, I fight

Of Treasonous Mallice

Macd. And so doe I

All. So all

Macb. Let's briefely put on manly readinesse, And meet i'th' Hall
together

All. Well contented.

Exeunt.

Malc. What will you doe?

Let's not consort with them:

To shew an vnfelt Sorrow, is an Office

Which the false man do's easie.

Ile to England

Don. To Ireland, I:

Our seperated fortune shall keepe vs both the safer: Where we are,
there's Daggers in mens smiles; The neere in blood, the neerer bloody

Malc. This murtherous Shaft that's shot, Hath not yet lighted: and
our safest way, Is to auoid the ayme. Therefore to Horse, And let vs
not be daintie of leaue-taking, But shift away: there's warrant in that
Theft, Which steales it selfe, when there's no mercie left.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Rosse, with an Old man.

Old man. Threescore and ten I can remember well, Within the Volume of
which Time, I haue seene Houres dreadfull, and things strange: but this
sore Night Hath trifled former knowings

Rosse. Ha, good Father,

Thou seest the Heauens, as troubled with mans Act, Threatens his bloody
Stage: byth' Clock 'tis Day, And yet darke Night strangles the
trauailing Lampe: Is't Nights predominance, or the Dayes shame, That
Darknesse does the face of Earth intombe, When liuing Light should
kisse it?

Old man. 'Tis vnnaturall,

Euen like the deed that's done: On Tuesday last, A Faulcon towring in
her pride of place,

Was by a Mowsing Owle hawkt at, and kill'd

Rosse. And Duncans Horses,

(A thing most strange, and certaine)

Beauteous, and swift, the Minions of their Race, Turn'd wilde in
nature, broke their stalls, flong out, Contending 'gainst Obedience, as
they would Make Warre with Mankinde

Old man. 'Tis said, they eate each other

Rosse. They did so:

To th' amazement of mine eyes that look'd vpon't. Enter Macduffe.

Heere comes the good Macduffe.

How goes the world Sir, now?

Macd. Why see you not?

Ross. Is't known who did this more then bloody deed?   Macd. Those
that Macbeth hath slaine

Ross. Alas the day,

What good could they pretend?

Macd. They were subborned,

Malcolme, and Donalbaine the Kings two Sonnes Are stolne away and fled,
which puts vpon them Suspition of the deed

Rosse. 'Gainst Nature still,

Thriftlesse Ambition, that will rauen vp

Thine owne liues meanes: Then 'tis most like, The Soueraignty will fall
vpon Macbeth

Macd. He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone To be inuested

Rosse. Where is Duncans body?

Macd. Carried to Colmekill,

The Sacred Store-house of his Predecessors, And Guardian of their
Bones

Rosse. Will you to Scone?

Macd. No Cosin, Ile to Fife

Rosse. Well, I will thither

Macd. Well may you see things wel done there: Adieu Least our old
Robes sit easier then our new

Rosse. Farewell, Father

Old M. Gods benyson go with you, and with those That would make good
of bad, and Friends of Foes.

Exeunt. omnes

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Banquo.

Banq. Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all, As the weyard
Women promis'd, and I feare Thou playd'st most fowly for't: yet it was
saide It should not stand in thy Posterity,

But that my selfe should be the Roote, and Father Of many Kings. If
there come truth from them, As vpon thee Macbeth, their Speeches shine,
Why by the verities on thee made good,

May they not be my Oracles as well,

And set me vp in hope. But hush, no more.

Senit sounded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Lenox, Rosse, Lords, and

Attendants.

Macb. Heere's our chiefe Guest

La. If he had beene forgotten,

It had bene as a gap in our great Feast,

And all-thing vnbecomming

Macb. To night we hold a solemne Supper sir, And Ile request your
presence

Banq. Let your Highnesse

Command vpon me, to the which my duties

Are with a most indissoluble tye

For euer knit

Macb. Ride you this afternoone?

Ban. I, my good Lord

Macb. We should haue else desir'd your good aduice (Which still hath
been both graue, and prosperous) In this dayes Councell: but wee'le
take to morrow. Is't farre you ride?

Ban. As farre, my Lord, as will fill vp the time 'Twixt this, and
Supper. Goe not my Horse the better, I must become a borrower of the
Night,

For a darke houre, or twaine

Macb. Faile not our Feast

Ban. My Lord, I will not

Macb. We heare our bloody Cozens are bestow'd In England, and in
Ireland, not confessing Their cruell Parricide, filling their hearers
With strange inuention. But of that to morrow, When therewithall, we
shall haue cause of State, Crauing vs ioyntly. Hye you to Horse:

Adieu, till you returne at Night.

Goes Fleance with you?

Ban. I, my good Lord: our time does call vpon's

Macb. I wish your Horses swift, and sure of foot: And so I doe
commend you to their backs.

Farwell.

Exit Banquo.

Let euery man be master of his time,

Till seuen at Night, to make societie

The sweeter welcome:

We will keepe our selfe till Supper time alone: While then, God be with
you.

Exeunt. Lords.

Sirrha, a word with you: Attend those men Our pleasure?

Seruant. They are, my Lord, without the Pallace Gate

Macb. Bring them before vs.

Exit Seruant.

To be thus, is nothing, but to be safely thus Our feares in Banquo
sticke deepe,

And in his Royaltie of Nature reignes that Which would be fear'd. 'Tis
much he dares, And to that dauntlesse temper of his Minde, He hath a
Wisdome, that doth guide his Valour, To act in safetie. There is none
but he,

Whose being I doe feare: and vnder him,

My Genius is rebuk'd, as it is said

Mark Anthonies was by Caesar. He chid the Sisters, When first they put
the Name of King vpon me, And bad them speake to him. Then
Prophet-like, They hayl'd him Father to a Line of Kings. Vpon my Head
they plac'd a fruitlesse Crowne, And put a barren Scepter in my Gripe,

Thence to be wrencht with an vnlineall Hand, No Sonne of mine
succeeding: if't be so,

For Banquo's Issue haue I fil'd my Minde, For them, the gracious Duncan
haue I murther'd, Put Rancours in the Vessell of my Peace

Onely for them, and mine eternall Iewell

Giuen to the common Enemie of Man,

To make them Kings, the Seedes of Banquo Kings. Rather then so, come
Fate into the Lyst,

And champion me to th' vtterance.

Who's there?

Enter Seruant, and two Murtherers.

Now goe to the Doore, and stay there till we call.

Exit Seruant.

Was it not yesterday we spoke together?

Murth. It was, so please your Highnesse

Macb. Well then,

Now haue you consider'd of my speeches:

Know, that it was he, in the times past,

Which held you so vnder fortune,

Which you thought had been our innocent selfe. This I made good to you,
in our last conference, Past in probation with you:

How you were borne in hand, how crost:

The Instruments: who wrought with them:

And all things else, that might

To halfe a Soule, and to a Notion craz'd, Say, Thus did Banquo

1.Murth. You made it knowne to vs

Macb. I did so:

And went further, which is now

Our point of second meeting.

Doe you finde your patience so predominant, In your nature, that you
can let this goe? Are you so Gospell'd, to pray for this good man, And
for his Issue, whose heauie hand

Hath bow'd you to the Graue, and begger'd Yours for euer?

1.Murth. We are men, my Liege

Macb. I, in the Catalogue ye goe for men, As Hounds, and Greyhounds,
Mungrels, Spaniels, Curres, Showghes, Water-Rugs, and Demy-Wolues are
clipt All by the Name of Dogges: the valued file Distinguishes the
swift, the slow, the subtle, The House-keeper, the Hunter, euery one

According to the gift, which bounteous Nature Hath in him clos'd:
whereby he does receiue Particular addition, from the Bill,

That writes them all alike: and so of men. Now, if you haue a station
in the file,

Not i'th' worst ranke of Manhood, say't,

And I will put that Businesse in your Bosomes, Whose execution takes
your Enemie off,

Grapples you to the heart; and loue of vs, Who weare our Health but
sickly in his Life, Which in his Death were perfect

2.Murth. I am one, my Liege,

Whom the vile Blowes and Buffets of the World Hath so incens'd, that I
am recklesse what I doe, To spight the World

1.Murth. And I another,

So wearie with Disasters, tugg'd with Fortune, That I would set my Life
on any Chance,

To mend it, or be rid on't

Macb. Both of you know Banquo was your Enemie

Murth. True, my Lord

Macb. So is he mine: and in such bloody distance, That euery minute
of his being, thrusts

Against my neer'st of Life: and though I could With bare-fac'd power
sweepe him from my sight, And bid my will auouch it; yet I must not,
For certaine friends that are both his, and mine, Whose loues I may not
drop, but wayle his fall, Who I my selfe struck downe: and thence it
is, That I to your assistance doe make loue,

Masking the Businesse from the common Eye, For sundry weightie Reasons

2.Murth. We shall, my Lord,

Performe what you command vs

1.Murth. Though our Liues-

Macb. Your Spirits shine through you.

Within this houre, at most,

I will aduise you where to plant your selues, Acquaint you with the
perfect Spy o'th' time, The moment on't, for't must be done to Night,
And something from the Pallace: alwayes thought, That I require a
clearenesse; and with him, To leaue no Rubs nor Botches in the Worke:
Fleans , his Sonne, that keepes him companie, Whose absence is no lesse
materiall to me, Then is his Fathers, must embrace the fate Of that
darke houre: resolue your selues apart, Ile come to you anon

Murth. We are resolu'd, my Lord

Macb. Ile call vpon you straight: abide within, It is concluded:
Banquo, thy Soules flight, If it finde Heauen, must finde it out to
Night.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Macbeths Lady, and a Seruant.

Lady. Is Banquo gone from Court?

Seruant. I, Madame, but returnes againe to Night

Lady. Say to the King, I would attend his leysure, For a few words

Seruant. Madame, I will.

Enter.

Lady. Nought's had, all's spent.

Where our desire is got without content:

'Tis safer, to be that which we destroy,

Then by destruction dwell in doubtfull ioy. Enter Macbeth.

How now, my Lord, why doe you keepe alone? Of sorryest Fancies your
Companions making, Vsing those Thoughts, which should indeed haue dy'd
With them they thinke on: things without all remedie Should be without
regard: what's done, is done

Macb. We haue scorch'd the Snake, not kill'd it: Shee'le close, and
be her selfe, whilest our poore Mallice Remaines in danger of her
former Tooth.

But let the frame of things dis-ioynt,

Both the Worlds suffer,

Ere we will eate our Meale in feare, and sleepe In the affliction of
these terrible Dreames, That shake vs Nightly: Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gayne our peace, haue sent to peace, Then on the torture of
the Minde to lye

In restlesse extasie.

Duncane is in his Graue:

After Lifes fitfull Feuer, he sleepes well, Treason ha's done his
worst: nor Steele, nor Poyson, Mallice domestique, forraine Leuie,
nothing, Can touch him further

Lady. Come on:

Gentle my Lord, sleeke o're your rugged Lookes, Be bright and Iouiall
among your Guests to Night

Macb. So shall I Loue, and so I pray be you: Let your remembrance
apply to Banquo,

Present him Eminence, both with Eye and Tongue: Vnsafe the while, that
wee must laue

Our Honors in these flattering streames,

And make our Faces Vizards to our Hearts, Disguising what they are

Lady. You must leaue this

Macb. O, full of Scorpions is my Minde, deare Wife: Thou know'st,
that Banquo and his Fleans liues

Lady. But in them, Natures Coppie's not eterne

Macb. There's comfort yet, they are assaileable, Then be thou
iocund: ere the Bat hath flowne His Cloyster'd flight, ere to black
Heccats summons The shard-borne Beetle, with his drowsie hums, Hath
rung Nights yawning Peale,

There shall be done a deed of dreadfull note

Lady. What's to be done?

Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest Chuck, Till thou applaud
the deed: Come, seeling Night, Skarfe vp the tender Eye of pittifull
Day, And with thy bloodie and inuisible Hand

Cancell and teare to pieces that great Bond, Which keepes me pale.
Light thickens,

And the Crow makes Wing toth' Rookie Wood: Good things of Day begin to
droope, and drowse, Whiles Nights black Agents to their Prey's doe
rowse. Thou maruell'st at my words: but hold thee still, Things bad
begun, make strong themselues by ill: So prythee goe with me.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter three Murtherers.

1. But who did bid thee ioyne with vs?

3. Macbeth

2. He needes not our mistrust, since he deliuers Our Offices, and
what we haue to doe,

To the direction iust

1. Then stand with vs:

The West yet glimmers with some streakes of Day. Now spurres the lated
Traueller apace,

To gayne the timely Inne, and neere approches The subiect of our Watch

3. Hearke, I heare Horses

Banquo within. Giue vs a Light there, hoa

2. Then 'tis hee:

The rest, that are within the note of expectation, Alreadie are i'th'
Court

1. His Horses goe about

3. Almost a mile: but he does vsually, So all men doe, from hence
toth' Pallace Gate Make it their Walke.

Enter Banquo and Fleans, with a Torch.

2. A Light, a Light

3. 'Tis hee

1. Stand too't

Ban. It will be Rayne to Night

1. Let it come downe

Ban. O, Trecherie!

Flye good Fleans, flye, flye, flye,

Thou may'st reuenge. O Slaue!

3. Who did strike out the Light?

1. Was't not the way?

3. There's but one downe: the Sonne is fled

2. We haue lost

Best halfe of our Affaire

1. Well, let's away, and say how much is done.

Exeunt.



Scaena Quarta.

Banquet prepar'd. Enter Macbeth, Lady, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and
Attendants.

Macb. You know your owne degrees, sit downe: At first and last, the
hearty welcome

Lords. Thankes to your Maiesty

Macb. Our selfe will mingle with Society, And play the humble Host:

Our Hostesse keepes her State, but in best time We will require her
welcome

La. Pronounce it for me Sir, to all our Friends, For my heart
speakes, they are welcome.

Enter first Murtherer.

Macb. See they encounter thee with their harts thanks Both sides are
euen: heere Ile sit i'th' mid'st, Be large in mirth, anon wee'l drinke
a Measure The Table round. There's blood vpon thy face

Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then

Macb. 'Tis better thee without, then he within. Is he dispatch'd?

Mur. My Lord his throat is cut, that I did for him

Mac. Thou art the best o'th' Cut-throats, Yet hee's good that did
the like for Fleans: If thou did'st it, thou art the Non-pareill

Mur. Most Royall Sir

Fleans is scap'd

Macb. Then comes my Fit againe:

I had else beene perfect;

Whole as the Marble, founded as the Rocke, As broad, and generall, as
the casing Ayre: But now I am cabin'd, crib'd, confin'd, bound in To
sawcy doubts, and feares. But Banquo's safe?   Mur. I, my good Lord:
safe in a ditch he bides, With twenty trenched gashes on his head;

The least a Death to Nature

Macb. Thankes for that:

There the growne Serpent lyes, the worme that's fled Hath Nature that
in time will Venom breed, No teeth for th' present. Get thee gone, to
morrow Wee'l heare our selues againe.

Exit Murderer.

Lady. My Royall Lord,

You do not giue the Cheere, the Feast is sold That is not often
vouch'd, while 'tis a making: 'Tis giuen, with welcome: to feede were
best at home: From thence, the sawce to meate is Ceremony, Meeting were
bare without it.

Enter the Ghost of Banquo, and sits in Macbeths place.

Macb. Sweet Remembrancer:

Now good digestion waite on Appetite,

And health on both

Lenox. May't please your Highnesse sit

Macb. Here had we now our Countries Honor, roof'd, Were the grac'd
person of our Banquo present: Who, may I rather challenge for
vnkindnesse, Then pitty for Mischance

Rosse. His absence (Sir)

Layes blame vpon his promise. Pleas't your Highnesse To grace vs with
your Royall Company?

Macb. The Table's full

Lenox. Heere is a place reseru'd Sir

Macb. Where?

Lenox. Heere my good Lord.

What is't that moues your Highnesse?

Macb. Which of you haue done this?

Lords. What, my good Lord?

Macb. Thou canst not say I did it: neuer shake Thy goary lockes at
me

Rosse. Gentlemen rise, his Highnesse is not well

Lady. Sit worthy Friends: my Lord is often thus, And hath beene from
his youth. Pray you keepe Seat, The fit is momentary, vpon a thought

He will againe be well. If much you note him You shall offend him, and
extend his Passion, Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man?

Macb. I, and a bold one, that dare looke on that Which might appall
the Diuell

La. O proper stuffe:

This is the very painting of your feare:

This is the Ayre-drawne-Dagger which you said Led you to Duncan. O,
these flawes and starts (Impostors to true feare) would well become A
womans story, at a Winters fire

Authoriz'd by her Grandam: shame it selfe, Why do you make such faces?
When all's done You looke but on a stoole

Macb. Prythee see there:

Behold, looke, loe, how say you:

Why what care I, if thou canst nod, speake too. If Charnell houses, and
our Graues must send Those that we bury, backe; our Monuments

Shall be the Mawes of Kytes

La. What? quite vnmann'd in folly

Macb. If I stand heere, I saw him

La. Fie for shame

Macb. Blood hath bene shed ere now, i'th' olden time Ere humane
Statute purg'd the gentle Weale: I, and since too, Murthers haue bene
perform'd Too terrible for the eare. The times has bene, That when the
Braines were out, the man would dye, And there an end: But now they
rise againe With twenty mortall murthers on their crownes, And push vs
from our stooles. This is more strange Then such a murther is

La. My worthy Lord

Your Noble Friends do lacke you

Macb. I do forget:

Do not muse at me my most worthy Friends, I haue a strange infirmity,
which is nothing To those that know me. Come, loue and health to all,
Then Ile sit downe: Giue me some Wine, fill full: Enter Ghost.

I drinke to th' generall ioy o'th' whole Table, And to our deere Friend
Banquo, whom we misse: Would he were heere: to all, and him we thirst,
And all to all

Lords. Our duties, and the pledge

Mac. Auant, & quit my sight, let the earth hide thee: Thy bones are
marrowlesse, thy blood is cold: Thou hast no speculation in those eyes

Which thou dost glare with

La. Thinke of this good Peeres

But as a thing of Custome: 'Tis no other, Onely it spoyles the pleasure
of the time

Macb. What man dare, I dare:

Approach thou like the rugged Russian Beare, The arm'd Rhinoceros, or
th' Hircan Tiger, Take any shape but that, and my firme Nerues Shall
neuer tremble. Or be aliue againe,

And dare me to the Desart with thy Sword: If trembling I inhabit then,
protest mee

The Baby of a Girle. Hence horrible shadow, Vnreall mock'ry hence. Why
so, being gone I am a man againe: pray you sit still

La. You haue displac'd the mirth,

Broke the good meeting, with most admir'd disorder

Macb. Can such things be,

And ouercome vs like a Summers Clowd,

Without our speciall wonder? You make me strange Euen to the
disposition that I owe,

When now I thinke you can behold such sights, And keepe the naturall
Rubie of your Cheekes, When mine is blanch'd with feare

Rosse. What sights, my Lord?

La. I pray you speake not: he growes worse & worse Question enrages
him: at once, goodnight. Stand not vpon the order of your going,

But go at once

Len. Good night, and better health

Attend his Maiesty

La. A kinde goodnight to all.

Exit Lords.

Macb. It will haue blood they say:

Blood will haue Blood:

Stones haue beene knowne to moue, & Trees to speake: Augures, and
vnderstood Relations, haue

By Maggot Pyes, & Choughes, & Rookes brought forth The secret'st man of
Blood. What is the night?   La. Almost at oddes with morning, which is
which

Macb. How say'st thou that Macduff denies his person At our great
bidding

La. Did you send to him Sir?

Macb. I heare it by the way: But I will send: There's not a one of
them but in his house I keepe a Seruant Feed. I will to morrow

(And betimes I will) to the weyard Sisters. More shall they speake: for
now I am bent to know By the worst meanes, the worst, for mine owne
good, All causes shall giue way. I am in blood

Stept in so farre, that should I wade no more, Returning were as
tedious as go ore:

Strange things I haue in head, that will to hand, Which must be acted,
ere they may be scand

La. You lacke the season of all Natures, sleepe

Macb. Come, wee'l to sleepe: My strange & self-abuse Is the initiate
feare, that wants hard vse: We are yet but yong indeed.

Exeunt.



Scena Quinta.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecat.

1. Why how now Hecat, you looke angerly?   Hec. Haue I not reason
(Beldams) as you are? Sawcy, and ouer-bold, how did you dare

To Trade, and Trafficke with Macbeth,

In Riddles, and Affaires of death;

And I the Mistris of your Charmes,

The close contriuer of all harmes,

Was neuer call'd to beare my part,

Or shew the glory of our Art?

And which is worse, all you haue done

Hath bene but for a wayward Sonne,

Spightfull, and wrathfull, who (as others do) Loues for his owne ends,
not for you.

But make amends now: Get you gon,

And at the pit of Acheron

Meete me i'th' Morning: thither he

Will come, to know his Destinie.

Your Vessels, and your Spels prouide,

Your Charmes, and euery thing beside;

I am for th' Ayre: This night Ile spend

Vnto a dismall, and a Fatall end.

Great businesse must be wrought ere Noone. Vpon the Corner of the
Moone

There hangs a vap'rous drop, profound,

Ile catch it ere it come to ground;

And that distill'd by Magicke slights,

Shall raise such Artificiall Sprights,

As by the strength of their illusion,

Shall draw him on to his Confusion.

He shall spurne Fate, scorne Death, and beare His hopes 'boue Wisedome,
Grace, and Feare: And you all know, Security

Is Mortals cheefest Enemie.

Musicke, and a Song.

Hearke, I am call'd: my little Spirit see Sits in Foggy cloud, and
stayes for me.

Sing within. Come away, come away, &c.

1 Come, let's make hast, shee'l soone be Backe againe.

Exeunt.



Scaena Sexta.

Enter Lenox, and another Lord.

Lenox. My former Speeches,

Haue but hit your Thoughts

Which can interpret farther: Onely I say

Things haue bin strangely borne. The gracious Duncan Was pittied of
Macbeth: marry he was dead: And the right valiant Banquo walk'd too
late, Whom you may say (if't please you) Fleans kill'd, For Fleans
fled: Men must not walke too late. Who cannot want the thought, how
monstrous It was for Malcolme, and for Donalbane

To kill their gracious Father? Damned Fact, How it did greeue Macbeth?
Did he not straight In pious rage, the two delinquents teare, That were
the Slaues of drinke, and thralles of sleepe? Was not that Nobly done?
I, and wisely too: For 'twould haue anger'd any heart aliue

To heare the men deny't. So that I say,

He ha's borne all things well, and I do thinke, That had he Duncans
Sonnes vnder his Key, (As, and't please Heauen he shall not) they
should finde What 'twere to kill a Father: So should Fleans. But peace;
for from broad words, and cause he fayl'd His presence at the Tyrants
Feast, I heare Macduffe liues in disgrace. Sir, can you tell Where he
bestowes himselfe?

Lord. The Sonnes of Duncane

(From whom this Tyrant holds the due of Birth) Liues in the English
Court, and is receyu'd Of the most Pious Edward, with such grace, That
the maleuolence of Fortune, nothing

Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduffe Is gone, to pray the Holy
King, vpon his ayd To wake Northumberland, and warlike Seyward, That by
the helpe of these (with him aboue) To ratifie the Worke) we may
againe

Giue to our Tables meate, sleepe to our Nights: Free from our Feasts,
and Banquets bloody kniues; Do faithfull Homage, and receiue free
Honors, All which we pine for now. And this report Hath so exasperate
their King, that hee

Prepares for some attempt of Warre

Len. Sent he to Macduffe?

Lord. He did: and with an absolute Sir, not I The clowdy Messenger
turnes me his backe, And hums; as who should say, you'l rue the time
That clogges me with this Answer

Lenox. And that well might

Aduise him to a Caution, t' hold what distance His wisedome can
prouide. Some holy Angell Flye to the Court of England, and vnfold

His Message ere he come, that a swift blessing May soone returne to
this our suffering Country, Vnder a hand accurs'd

Lord. Ile send my Prayers with him.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

1 Thrice the brinded Cat hath mew'd

2 Thrice, and once the Hedge-Pigge whin'd

3 Harpier cries, 'tis time, 'tis time

1 Round about the Caldron go:

In the poysond Entrailes throw

Toad, that vnder cold stone,

Dayes and Nights, ha's thirty one:

Sweltred Venom sleeping got,

Boyle thou first i'th' charmed pot

All. Double, double, toile and trouble; Fire burne, and Cauldron
bubble

2 Fillet of a Fenny Snake,

In the Cauldron boyle and bake:

Eye of Newt, and Toe of Frogge,

Wooll of Bat, and Tongue of Dogge:

Adders Forke, and Blinde-wormes Sting,

Lizards legge, and Howlets wing:

For a Charme of powrefull trouble,

Like a Hell-broth, boyle and bubble

All. Double, double, toyle and trouble, Fire burne, and Cauldron
bubble

3 Scale of Dragon, Tooth of Wolfe,

Witches Mummey, Maw, and Gulfe

Of the rauin'd salt Sea sharke:

Roote of Hemlocke, digg'd i'th' darke:

Liuer of Blaspheming Iew,

Gall of Goate, and Slippes of Yew,

Sliuer'd in the Moones Ecclipse:

Nose of Turke, and Tartars lips:

Finger of Birth-strangled Babe,

Ditch-deliuer'd by a Drab,

Make the Grewell thicke, and slab.

Adde thereto a Tigers Chawdron,

For th' Ingredience of our Cawdron

All. Double, double, toyle and trouble, Fire burne, and Cauldron
bubble

2 Coole it with a Baboones blood,

Then the Charme is firme and good.

Enter Hecat, and the other three Witches.

Hec. O well done: I commend your paines, And euery one shall share
i'th' gaines:

And now about the Cauldron sing

Like Elues and Fairies in a Ring,

Inchanting all that you put in.

Musicke and a Song. Blacke Spirits, &c.

2 By the pricking of my Thumbes,

Something wicked this way comes:

Open Lockes, who euer knockes.

Enter Macbeth.

Macb. How now you secret, black, & midnight Hags? What is't you do?

All. A deed without a name

Macb. I coniure you, by that which you Professe, (How ere you come
to know it) answer me:

Though you vntye the Windes, and let them fight Against the Churches:
Though the yesty Waues Confound and swallow Nauigation vp:

Though bladed Corne be lodg'd, & Trees blown downe, Though Castles
topple on their Warders heads: Though Pallaces, and Pyramids do slope

Their heads to their Foundations: Though the treasure Of Natures
Germaine, tumble altogether,

Euen till destruction sicken: Answer me

To what I aske you

1 Speake

2 Demand

3 Wee'l answer

1 Say, if th'hadst rather heare it from our mouthes, Or from our
Masters

Macb. Call 'em: let me see 'em

1 Powre in Sowes blood, that hath eaten Her nine Farrow: Greaze
that's sweaten

From the Murderers Gibbet, throw

Into the Flame

All. Come high or low:

Thy Selfe and Office deaftly show.

Thunder. 1. Apparation, an Armed Head.

Macb. Tell me, thou vnknowne power

1 He knowes thy thought:

Heare his speech, but say thou nought

1 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth:

Beware Macduffe,

Beware the Thane of Fife: dismisse me. Enough.

He Descends.

Macb. What ere thou art, for thy good caution, thanks Thou hast
harp'd my feare aright. But one word more

1 He will not be commanded: heere's another More potent then the
first.

Thunder. 2 Apparition, a Bloody Childe.

2 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth

Macb. Had I three eares, Il'd heare thee

Appar. Be bloody, bold, & resolute:

Laugh to scorne

The powre of man: For none of woman borne Shall harme Macbeth.

Descends.

Mac. Then liue Macduffe: what need I feare of thee? But yet Ile make
assurance: double sure,

And take a Bond of Fate: thou shalt not liue, That I may tell
pale-hearted Feare, it lies; And sleepe in spight of Thunder.

Thunder 3 Apparation, a Childe Crowned, with a Tree in his hand.

What is this, that rises like the issue of a King, And weares vpon his
Baby-brow, the round

And top of Soueraignty?

All. Listen, but speake not too't

3 Appar. Be Lyon metled, proud, and take no care: Who chafes, who
frets, or where Conspirers are: Macbeth shall neuer vanquish'd be,
vntill Great Byrnam Wood, to high Dunsmane Hill

Shall come against him.

Descend.

Macb. That will neuer bee:

Who can impresse the Forrest, bid the Tree Vnfixe his earth-bound Root?
Sweet boadments, good: Rebellious dead, rise neuer till the Wood Of
Byrnan rise, and our high plac'd Macbeth Shall liue the Lease of
Nature, pay his breath To time, and mortall Custome. Yet my Hart Throbs
to know one thing: Tell me, if your Art Can tell so much: Shall
Banquo's issue euer Reigne in this Kingdome?

All. Seeke to know no more

Macb. I will be satisfied. Deny me this, And an eternall Curse fall
on you: Let me know. Why sinkes that Caldron? & what noise is this?

Hoboyes

1 Shew

2 Shew

3 Shew

All. Shew his Eyes, and greeue his Hart, Come like shadowes, so
depart.

A shew of eight Kings, and Banquo last, with a glasse in his hand.

Macb. Thou art too like the Spirit of Banquo: Down: Thy Crowne do's
seare mine Eye-bals. And thy haire Thou other Gold-bound-brow, is like
the first: A third, is like the former. Filthy Hagges, Why do you shew
me this? - A fourth? Start eyes! What will the Line stretch out to'th'
cracke of Doome? Another yet? A seauenth? Ile see no more: And yet the
eighth appeares, who beares a glasse, Which shewes me many more: and
some I see, That two-fold Balles, and trebble Scepters carry. Horrible
sight: Now I see 'tis true,

For the Blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles vpon me, And points at them for
his. What? is this so?   1 I Sir, all this is so. But why

Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?

Come Sisters, cheere we vp his sprights,

And shew the best of our delights.

Ile Charme the Ayre to giue a sound,

While you performe your Antique round:

That this great King may kindly say,

Our duties, did his welcome pay.

Musicke. The Witches Dance, and vanish.

Macb. Where are they? Gone?

Let this pernitious houre,

Stand aye accursed in the Kalender.

Come in, without there.

Enter Lenox.

Lenox. What's your Graces will

Macb. Saw you the Weyard Sisters?

Lenox. No my Lord

Macb. Came they not by you?

Lenox. No indeed my Lord

Macb. Infected be the Ayre whereon they ride, And damn'd all those
that trust them. I did heare The gallopping of Horse. Who was't came
by?   Len. 'Tis two or three my Lord, that bring you word: Macduff is
fled to England

Macb. Fled to England?

Len. I, my good Lord

Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits: The flighty purpose
neuer is o're-tooke

Vnlesse the deed go with it. From this moment, The very firstlings of
my heart shall be

The firstlings of my hand. And euen now

To Crown my thoughts with Acts: be it thoght & done: The Castle of
Macduff, I will surprize.

Seize vpon Fife; giue to th' edge o'th' Sword His Wife, his Babes, and
all vnfortunate Soules That trace him in his Line. No boasting like a
Foole, This deed Ile do, before this purpose coole, But no more sights.
Where are these Gentlemen? Come bring me where they are.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Macduffes Wife, her Son, and Rosse.

Wife. What had he done, to make him fly the Land?   Rosse. You must
haue patience Madam

Wife. He had none:

His flight was madnesse: when our Actions do not, Our feares do make vs
Traitors

Rosse. You know not

Whether it was his wisedome, or his feare

Wife. Wisedom? to leaue his wife, to leaue his Babes, His Mansion,
and his Titles, in a place

From whence himselfe do's flye? He loues vs not, He wants the naturall
touch. For the poore Wren (The most diminitiue of Birds) will fight,
Her yong ones in her Nest, against the Owle: All is the Feare, and
nothing is the Loue; As little is the Wisedome, where the flight So
runnes against all reason

Rosse. My deerest Cooz,

I pray you schoole your selfe. But for your Husband, He is Noble, Wise,
Iudicious, and best knowes The fits o'th' Season. I dare not speake
much further, But cruell are the times, when we are Traitors And do not
know our selues: when we hold Rumor From what we feare, yet know not
what we feare, But floate vpon a wilde and violent Sea

Each way, and moue. I take my leaue of you: Shall not be long but Ile
be heere againe: Things at the worst will cease, or else climbe vpward,
To what they were before. My pretty Cosine, Blessing vpon you

Wife. Father'd he is,

And yet hee's Father-lesse

Rosse. I am so much a Foole, should I stay longer It would be my
disgrace, and your discomfort. I take my leaue at once.

Exit Rosse.

Wife. Sirra, your Fathers dead,

And what will you do now? How will you liue?   Son. As Birds do Mother

Wife. What with Wormes, and Flyes?

Son. With what I get I meane, and so do they

Wife. Poore Bird,

Thou'dst neuer Feare the Net, nor Lime,

The Pitfall, nor the Gin

Son. Why should I Mother?

Poore Birds they are not set for:

My Father is not dead for all your saying

Wife. Yes, he is dead:

How wilt thou do for a Father?

Son. Nay how will you do for a Husband?   Wife. Why I can buy me
twenty at any Market

Son. Then you'l by 'em to sell againe

Wife. Thou speak'st withall thy wit,

And yet I'faith with wit enough for thee

Son. Was my Father a Traitor, Mother?

Wife. I, that he was

Son. What is a Traitor?

Wife. Why one that sweares, and lyes

Son. And be all Traitors, that do so

Wife. Euery one that do's so, is a Traitor, And must be hang'd

Son. And must they all be hang'd, that swear and lye?   Wife. Euery
one

Son. Who must hang them?

Wife. Why, the honest men

Son. Then the Liars and Swearers are Fools: for there are Lyars and
Swearers enow, to beate the honest men, and hang vp them

Wife. Now God helpe thee, poore Monkie: But how wilt thou do for a
Father?

Son. If he were dead, youl'd weepe for him: if you would not, it were
a good signe, that I should quickely haue a new Father

Wife. Poore pratler, how thou talk'st? Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Blesse you faire Dame: I am not to you known, Though in your
state of Honor I am perfect; I doubt some danger do's approach you
neerely. If you will take a homely mans aduice,

Be not found heere: Hence with your little ones To fright you thus. Me
thinkes I am too sauage: To do worse to you, were fell Cruelty,

Which is too nie your person. Heauen preserue you, I dare abide no
longer.

Exit Messenger

Wife. Whether should I flye?

I haue done no harme. But I remember now

I am in this earthly world: where to do harme Is often laudable, to do
good sometime

Accounted dangerous folly. Why then (alas) Do I put vp that womanly
defence,

To say I haue done no harme?

What are these faces?

Enter Murtherers.

Mur. Where is your Husband?

Wife. I hope in no place so vnsanctified, Where such as thou may'st
finde him

Mur. He's a Traitor

Son. Thou ly'st thou shagge-ear'd Villaine

Mur. What you Egge?

Yong fry of Treachery?

Son. He ha's kill'd me Mother,

Run away I pray you.

Exit crying Murther.



Scaena Tertia.

Enter Malcolme and Macduffe.

Mal. Let vs seeke out some desolate shade, & there Weepe our sad
bosomes empty

Macd. Let vs rather

Hold fast the mortall Sword: and like good men, Bestride our downfall
Birthdome: each new Morne, New Widdowes howle, new Orphans cry, new
sorowes Strike heauen on the face, that it resounds As if it felt with
Scotland, and yell'd out Like Syllable of Dolour

Mal. What I beleeue, Ile waile;

What know, beleeue; and what I can redresse, As I shall finde the time
to friend: I wil. What you haue spoke, it may be so perchance. This
Tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, Was once thought honest:
you haue lou'd him well, He hath not touch'd you yet. I am yong, but
something You may discerne of him through me, and wisedome To offer vp
a weake, poore innocent Lambe T' appease an angry God

Macd. I am not treacherous

Malc. But Macbeth is.

A good and vertuous Nature may recoyle

In an Imperiall charge. But I shall craue your pardon: That which you
are, my thoughts cannot transpose; Angels are bright still, though the
brightest fell. Though all things foule, would wear the brows of grace
Yet Grace must still looke so

Macd. I haue lost my Hopes

Malc. Perchance euen there

Where I did finde my doubts.

Why in that rawnesse left you Wife, and Childe? Those precious Motiues,
those strong knots of Loue, Without leaue-taking. I pray you,

Let not my Iealousies, be your Dishonors, But mine owne Safeties: you
may be rightly iust, What euer I shall thinke

Macd. Bleed, bleed poore Country,

Great Tyrrany, lay thou thy basis sure,

For goodnesse dare not check thee: wear y thy wrongs, The Title, is
affear'd. Far thee well Lord, I would not be the Villaine that thou
think'st, For the whole Space that's in the Tyrants Graspe, And the
rich East to boot

Mal. Be not offended:

I speake not as in absolute feare of you: I thinke our Country sinkes
beneath the yoake, It weepes, it bleeds, and each new day a gash Is
added to her wounds. I thinke withall, There would be hands vplifted in
my right: And heere from gracious England haue I offer Of goodly
thousands. But for all this,

When I shall treade vpon the Tyrants head, Or weare it on my Sword; yet
my poore Country Shall haue more vices then it had before, More suffer,
and more sundry wayes then euer, By him that shall succeede

Macd. What should he be?

Mal. It is my selfe I meane: in whom I know All the particulars of
Vice so grafted,

That when they shall be open'd, blacke Macbeth Will seeme as pure as
Snow, and the poore State Esteeme him as a Lambe, being compar'd

With my confinelesse harmes

Macd. Not in the Legions

Of horrid Hell, can come a Diuell more damn'd In euils, to top Macbeth

Mal. I grant him Bloody,

Luxurious, Auaricious, False, Deceitfull, Sodaine, Malicious, smacking
of euery sinne That ha's a name. But there's no bottome, none In my
Voluptuousnesse: Your Wiues, your Daughters, Your Matrons, and your
Maides, could not fill vp The Cesterne of my Lust, and my Desire

All continent Impediments would ore-beare That did oppose my will.
Better Macbeth,

Then such an one to reigne

Macd. Boundlesse intemperance

In Nature is a Tyranny: It hath beene

Th' vntimely emptying of the happy Throne, And fall of many Kings. But
feare not yet To take vpon you what is yours: you may

Conuey your pleasures in a spacious plenty, And yet seeme cold. The
time you may so hoodwinke: We haue willing Dames enough: there cannot
be That Vulture in you, to deuoure so many

As will to Greatnesse dedicate themselues, Finding it so inclinde

Mal. With this, there growes

In my most ill-composd Affection, such

A stanchlesse Auarice, that were I King,

I should cut off the Nobles for their Lands, Desire his Iewels, and
this others House, And my more-hauing, would be as a Sawce

To make me hunger more, that I should forge Quarrels vniust against the
Good and Loyall, Destroying them for wealth

Macd. This Auarice

stickes deeper: growes with more pernicious roote Then Summer-seeming
Lust: and it hath bin The Sword of our slaine Kings: yet do not feare,
Scotland hath Foysons, to fill vp your will Of your meere Owne. All
these are portable, With other Graces weigh'd

Mal. But I haue none. The King-becoming Graces, As Iustice, Verity,
Temp'rance, Stablenesse, Bounty, Perseuerance, Mercy, Lowlinesse,

Deuotion, Patience, Courage, Fortitude,

I haue no rellish of them, but abound

In the diuision of each seuerall Crime,

Acting it many wayes. Nay, had I powre, I should Poure the sweet Milke
of Concord, into Hell, Vprore the vniuersall peace, confound

All vnity on earth

Macd. O Scotland, Scotland

Mal. If such a one be fit to gouerne, speake: I am as I haue spoken

Mac. Fit to gouern? No not to liue. O Natio[n] miserable! With an
vntitled Tyrant, bloody Sceptred, When shalt thou see thy wholsome
dayes againe? Since that the truest Issue of thy Throne By his owne
Interdiction stands accust,

And do's blaspheme his breed? Thy Royall Father Was a most
Sainted-King: the Queene that bore thee, Oftner vpon her knees, then on
her feet,

Dy'de euery day she liu'd. Fare thee well, These Euils thou repeat'st
vpon thy selfe, Hath banish'd me from Scotland. O my Brest, Thy hope
ends heere

Mal. Macduff, this Noble passion

Childe of integrity, hath from my soule

Wip'd the blacke Scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts To thy good Truth,
and Honor. Diuellish Macbeth, By many of these traines, hath sought to
win me Into his power: and modest Wisedome pluckes me From
ouer-credulous hast: but God aboue

Deale betweene thee and me; For euen now

I put my selfe to thy Direction, and

Vnspeake mine owne detraction. Heere abiure The taints, and blames I
laide vpon my selfe, For strangers to my Nature. I am yet

Vnknowne to Woman, neuer was forsworne,

Scarsely haue coueted what was mine owne. At no time broke my Faith,
would not betray The Deuill to his Fellow, and delight

No lesse in truth then life. My first false speaking Was this vpon my
selfe. What I am truly

Is thine, and my poore Countries to command: Whither indeed, before
they heere approach Old Seyward with ten thousand warlike men Already
at a point, was setting foorth:

Now wee'l together, and the chance of goodnesse Be like our warranted
Quarrell. Why are you silent?   Macd. Such welcome, and vnwelcom things
at once 'Tis hard to reconcile.

Enter a Doctor.

Mal. Well, more anon. Comes the King forth I pray you?

Doct. I Sir: there are a crew of wretched Soules That stay his Cure:
their malady conuinces The great assay of Art. But at his touch, Such
sanctity hath Heauen giuen his hand, They presently amend.

Enter.

Mal. I thanke you Doctor

Macd. What's the Disease he meanes?

Mal. Tis call'd the Euill.

A most myraculous worke in this good King, Which often since my heere
remaine in England, I haue seene him do: How he solicites heauen
Himselfe best knowes: but strangely visited people All swolne and
Vlcerous, pittifull to the eye, The meere dispaire of Surgery, he
cures,

Hanging a golden stampe about their neckes, Put on with holy Prayers,
and 'tis spoken To the succeeding Royalty he leaues

The healing Benediction. With this strange vertue, He hath a heauenly
guift of Prophesie,

And sundry Blessings hang about his Throne, That speake him full of
Grace.

Enter Rosse.

Macd. See who comes heere

Malc. My Countryman: but yet I know him not

Macd. My euer gentle Cozen, welcome hither

Malc. I know him now. Good God betimes remoue The meanes that makes
vs Strangers

Rosse. Sir, Amen

Macd. Stands Scotland where it did?

Rosse. Alas poore Countrey,

Almost affraid to know it selfe. It cannot Be call'd our Mother, but
our Graue; where nothing But who knowes nothing, is once seene to
smile: Where sighes, and groanes, and shrieks that rent the ayre Are
made, not mark'd: Where violent sorrow seemes A Moderne extasie: The
Deadmans knell,

Is there scarse ask'd for who, and good mens liues Expire before the
Flowers in their Caps,

Dying, or ere they sicken

Macd. Oh Relation; too nice, and yet too true

Malc. What's the newest griefe?

Rosse. That of an houres age, doth hisse the speaker, Each minute
teemes a new one

Macd. How do's my Wife?

Rosse. Why well

Macd. And all my Children?

Rosse. Well too

Macd. The Tyrant ha's not batter'd at their peace?   Rosse. No, they
were wel at peace, when I did leaue 'em   Macd. Be not a niggard of
your speech: How gos't?   Rosse. When I came hither to transport the
Tydings Which I haue heauily borne, there ran a Rumour Of many worthy
Fellowes, that were out,

Which was to my beleefe witnest the rather, For that I saw the Tyrants
Power a-foot.

Now is the time of helpe: your eye in Scotland Would create Soldiours,
make our women fight, To doffe their dire distresses

Malc. Bee't their comfort

We are comming thither: Gracious England hath Lent vs good Seyward, and
ten thousand men, An older, and a better Souldier, none

That Christendome giues out

Rosse. Would I could answer

This comfort with the like. But I haue words That would be howl'd out
in the desert ayre, Where hearing should not latch them

Macd. What concerne they,

The generall cause, or is it a Fee-griefe Due to some single brest?

Rosse. No minde that's honest

But in it shares some woe, though the maine part Pertaines to you
alone

Macd. If it be mine

Keepe it not from me, quickly let me haue it

Rosse. Let not your eares dispise my tongue for euer, Which shall
possesse them with the heauiest sound that euer yet they heard

Macd. Humh: I guesse at it

Rosse. Your Castle is surpriz'd: your Wife, and Babes Sauagely
slaughter'd: To relate the manner Were on the Quarry of these murther'd
Deere To adde the death of you

Malc. Mercifull Heauen:

What man, ne're pull your hat vpon your browes: Giue sorrow words; the
griefe that do's not speake, Whispers the o're-fraught heart, and bids
it breake

Macd. My Children too?

Ro. Wife, Children, Seruants, all that could be found

Macd. And I must be from thence? My wife kil'd too?   Rosse. I haue
said

Malc. Be comforted.

Let's make vs Med'cines of our great Reuenge, To cure this deadly
greefe

Macd. He ha's no Children. All my pretty ones? Did you say All? Oh
Hell-Kite! All?

What, All my pretty Chickens, and their Damme At one fell swoope?

Malc. Dispute it like a man

Macd. I shall do so:

But I must also feele it as a man;

I cannot but remember such things were

That were most precious to me: Did heauen looke on, And would not take
their part? Sinfull Macduff, They were all strooke for thee: Naught
that I am, Not for their owne demerits, but for mine Fell slaughter on
their soules: Heauen rest them now

Mal. Be this the Whetstone of your sword, let griefe Conuert to
anger: blunt not the heart, enrage it

Macd. O I could play the woman with mine eyes, And Braggart with my
tongue. But gentle Heauens, Cut short all intermission: Front to Front,
Bring thou this Fiend of Scotland, and my selfe Within my Swords length
set him, if he scape Heauen forgiue him too

Mal. This time goes manly:

Come go we to the King, our Power is ready, Our lacke is nothing but
our leaue. Macbeth Is ripe for shaking, and the Powres aboue Put on
their Instruments: Receiue what cheere you may, The Night is long, that
neuer findes the Day.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter a Doctor of Physicke, and a Wayting Gentlewoman.

Doct. I haue too Nights watch'd with you, but can perceiue no truth
in your report. When was it shee last walk'd?

Gent. Since his Maiesty went into the Field, I haue seene her rise
from her bed, throw her Night-Gown vppon her, vnlocke her Closset, take
foorth paper, folde it, write vpon't, read it, afterwards Seale it, and
againe returne to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleepe

Doct. A great perturbation in Nature, to receyue at once the benefit
of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this slumbry agitation,
besides her walking, and other actuall performances, what (at any time)
haue you heard her say?

Gent. That Sir, which I will not report after her

Doct. You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should

Gent. Neither to you, nor any one, hauing no witnesse to confirme my
speech.

Enter Lady, with a Taper.

Lo you, heere she comes: This is her very guise, and vpon my life fast
asleepe: obserue her, stand close

Doct. How came she by that light?

Gent. Why it stood by her: she ha's light by her continually, 'tis
her command

Doct. You see her eyes are open

Gent. I, but their sense are shut

Doct. What is it she do's now?

Looke how she rubbes her hands

Gent. It is an accustom'd action with her, to seeme thus washing her
hands: I haue knowne her continue in this a quarter of an houre

Lad. Yet heere's a spot

Doct. Heark, she speaks, I will set downe what comes from her, to
satisfie my remembrance the more strongly

La. Out damned spot: out I say. One: Two: Why then 'tis time to
doo't: Hell is murky. Fye, my Lord, fie, a Souldier, and affear'd? what
need we feare? who knowes it, when none can call our powre to accompt:
yet who would haue thought the olde man to haue had so much blood in
him

Doct. Do you marke that?

Lad. The Thane of Fife, had a wife: where is she now? What will these
hands ne're be cleane? No more o'that my Lord, no more o'that: you
marre all with this starting

Doct. Go too, go too:

You haue knowne what you should not

Gent. She ha's spoke what shee should not, I am sure of that: Heauen
knowes what she ha's knowne

La. Heere's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia
will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh

Doct. What a sigh is there? The hart is sorely charg'd

Gent. I would not haue such a heart in my bosome, for the dignity of
the whole body

Doct. Well, well, well

Gent. Pray God it be sir

Doct. This disease is beyond my practise: yet I haue knowne those
which haue walkt in their sleep, who haue dyed holily in their beds

Lad. Wash your hands, put on your Night-Gowne, looke not so pale: I
tell you yet againe Banquo's buried; he cannot come out on's graue

Doct. Euen so?

Lady. To bed, to bed: there's knocking at the gate: Come, come, come,
come, giue me your hand: What's done, cannot be vndone. To bed, to bed,
to bed.

Exit Lady.

Doct. Will she go now to bed?

Gent. Directly

Doct. Foule whisp'rings are abroad: vnnaturall deeds Do breed
vnnaturall troubles: infected mindes To their deafe pillowes will
discharge their Secrets: More needs she the Diuine, then the Physitian:
God, God forgiue vs all. Looke after her, Remoue from her the meanes of
all annoyance, And still keepe eyes vpon her: So goodnight, My minde
she ha's mated, and amaz'd my sight. I thinke, but dare not speake

Gent. Good night good Doctor.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Drum and Colours. Enter Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, Lenox, Soldiers.

Ment. The English powre is neere, led on by Malcolm, His Vnkle
Seyward, and the good Macduff.

Reuenges burne in them: for their deere causes Would to the bleeding,
and the grim Alarme Excite the mortified man

Ang. Neere Byrnan wood

Shall we well meet them, that way are they comming

Cath. Who knowes if Donalbane be with his brother?   Len. For
certaine Sir, he is not: I haue a File Of all the Gentry; there is
Seywards Sonne, And many vnruffe youths, that euen now

Protest their first of Manhood

Ment. What do's the Tyrant

Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly Fortifies: Some say hee's mad:
Others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant Fury, but for certaine
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause

Within the belt of Rule

Ang. Now do's he feele

His secret Murthers sticking on his hands, Now minutely Reuolts vpbraid
his Faith-breach: Those he commands, moue onely in command, Nothing in
loue: Now do's he feele his Title Hang loose about him, like a Giants
Robe

Vpon a dwarfish Theefe

Ment. Who then shall blame

His pester'd Senses to recoyle, and start, When all that is within him,
do's condemne It selfe, for being there

Cath. Well, march we on,

To giue Obedience, where 'tis truly ow'd: Meet we the Med'cine of the
sickly Weale, And with him poure we in our Countries purge, Each drop
of vs

Lenox. Or so much as it needes,

To dew the Soueraigne Flower, and drowne the Weeds: Make we our March
towards Birnan.

Exeunt. marching.



Scaena Tertia.

Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.

Macb. Bring me no more Reports, let them flye all: Till Byrnane wood
remoue to Dunsinane,

I cannot taint with Feare. What's the Boy Malcolme? Was he not borne of
woman? The Spirits that know All mortall Consequences, haue pronounc'd
me thus: Feare not Macbeth, no man that's borne of woman Shall ere haue
power vpon thee. Then fly false Thanes, And mingle with the English
Epicures,

The minde I sway by, and the heart I beare, Shall neuer sagge with
doubt, nor shake with feare. Enter Seruant.

The diuell damne thee blacke, thou cream-fac'd Loone: Where got'st thou
that Goose-looke

Ser. There is ten thousand

Macb. Geese Villaine?

Ser. Souldiers Sir

Macb. Go pricke thy face, and ouer-red thy feare Thou Lilly-liuer'd
Boy. What Soldiers, Patch? Death of thy Soule, those Linnen cheekes of
thine Are Counsailers to feare. What Soldiers Whay-face?   Ser. The
English Force, so please you

Macb. Take thy face hence. Seyton, I am sick at hart, When I behold:
Seyton, I say, this push

Will cheere me euer, or dis-eate me now.

I haue liu'd long enough: my way of life

Is falne into the Seare, the yellow Leafe, And that which should
accompany Old-Age,

As Honor, Loue, Obedience, Troopes of Friends, I must not looke to
haue: but in their steed, Curses, not lowd but deepe, Mouth-honor,
breath Which the poore heart would faine deny, and dare not. Seyton?

Enter Seyton.

Sey. What's your gracious pleasure?

Macb. What Newes more?

Sey. All is confirm'd my Lord, which was reported

Macb. Ile fight, till from my bones, my flesh be hackt. Giue me my
Armor

Seyt. 'Tis not needed yet

Macb. Ile put it on:

Send out moe Horses, skirre the Country round, Hang those that talke of
Feare. Giue me mine Armor: How do's your Patient, Doctor?

Doct. Not so sicke my Lord,

As she is troubled with thicke-comming Fancies That keepe her from her
rest

Macb. Cure of that:

Can'st thou not Minister to a minde diseas'd, Plucke from the Memory a
rooted Sorrow,

Raze out the written troubles of the Braine, And with some sweet
Obliuious Antidote

Cleanse the stufft bosome, of that perillous stuffe Which weighes vpon
the heart?

Doct. Therein the Patient

Must minister to himselfe

Macb. Throw Physicke to the Dogs, Ile none of it. Come, put mine
Armour on: giue me my Staffe: Seyton, send out: Doctor, the Thanes flye
from me: Come sir, dispatch. If thou could'st Doctor, cast The Water of
my Land, finde her Disease,

And purge it to a sound and pristine Health, I would applaud thee to
the very Eccho,

That should applaud againe. Pull't off I say, What Rubarb, Cyme, or
what Purgatiue drugge Would scowre these English hence: hear'st y of
them?   Doct. I my good Lord: your Royall Preparation Makes vs heare
something

Macb. Bring it after me:

I will not be affraid of Death and Bane,

Till Birnane Forrest come to Dunsinane

Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away, and cleere, Profit againe should
hardly draw me heere.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Drum and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, Seywards Sonne,

Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, and Soldiers Marching.

Malc. Cosins, I hope the dayes are neere at hand That Chambers will
be safe

Ment. We doubt it nothing

Seyw. What wood is this before vs?

Ment. The wood of Birnane

Malc. Let euery Souldier hew him downe a Bough, And bear't before
him, thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our Hoast, and make
discouery Erre in report of vs

Sold. It shall be done

Syw. We learne no other, but the confident Tyrant Keepes still in
Dunsinane, and will indure Our setting downe befor't

Malc. 'Tis his maine hope:

For where there is aduantage to be giuen, Both more and lesse haue
giuen him the Reuolt, And none serue with him, but constrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too

Macd. Let our iust Censures

Attend the true euent, and put we on

Industrious Souldiership

Sey. The time approaches,

That will with due decision make vs know

What we shall say we haue, and what we owe: Thoughts speculatiue, their
vnsure hopes relate, But certaine issue, stroakes must arbitrate,
Towards which, aduance the warre.

Exeunt. marching

Scena Quinta.

Enter Macbeth, Seyton, & Souldiers, with Drum and Colours.

Macb. Hang out our Banners on the outward walls, The Cry is still,
they come: our Castles strength Will laugh a Siedge to scorne: Heere
let them lye, Till Famine and the Ague eate them vp:

Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours, We might haue met
them darefull, beard to beard, And beate them backward home. What is
that noyse?

A Cry within of Women.

Sey. It is the cry of women, my good Lord

Macb. I haue almost forgot the taste of Feares: The time ha's beene,
my sences would haue cool'd To heare a Night-shrieke, and my Fell of
haire Would at a dismall Treatise rowze, and stirre As life were in't.
I haue supt full with horrors, Direnesse familiar to my slaughterous
thoughts Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry?   Sey. The
Queene (my Lord) is dead

Macb. She should haue dy'de heereafter; There would haue beene a
time for such a word: To morrow, and to morrow, and to morrow,

Creepes in this petty pace from day to day, To the last Syllable of
Recorded time:

And all our yesterdayes, haue lighted Fooles The way to dusty death.
Out, out, breefe Candle, Life's but a walking Shadow, a poore Player,
That struts and frets his houre vpon the Stage, And then is heard no
more. It is a Tale

Told by an Ideot, full of sound and fury

Signifying nothing.

Enter a Messenger.

Thou com'st to vse thy Tongue: thy Story quickly

Mes. Gracious my Lord,

I should report that which I say I saw,

But know not how to doo't

Macb. Well, say sir

Mes. As I did stand my watch vpon the Hill I look'd toward Byrnane,
and anon me thought The Wood began to moue

Macb. Lyar, and Slaue

Mes. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: Within this three
Mile may you see it comming. I say, a mouing Groue

Macb. If thou speak'st false,

Vpon the next Tree shall thou hang aliue

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 th' Equiuocation of the Fiend,

That lies like truth. Feare not, till Byrnane Wood Do come to
Dunsinane, and now a Wood

Comes toward Dunsinane. Arme, Arme, and out, If this which he auouches,
do's appeare,

There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here. I 'ginne to be a-weary of
the Sun,

And wish th' estate o'th' world were now vndon. Ring the Alarum Bell,
blow Winde, come wracke, At least wee'l dye with Harnesse on our
backe.

Exeunt.

Scena Sexta.

Drumme and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, and their Army,

with Boughes.

Mal. Now neere enough:

Your leauy Skreenes throw downe,

And shew like those you are: You (worthy Vnkle) Shall with my Cosin
your right Noble Sonne Leade our first Battell. Worthy Macduffe, and
wee Shall take vpon's what else remaines to do, According to our order

Sey. Fare you well:

Do we but finde the Tyrants power to night, Let vs be beaten, if we
cannot fight

Macd. Make all our Trumpets speak, giue the[m] all breath Those
clamorous Harbingers of Blood, & Death.

Exeunt.

Alarums continued.



Scena Septima.

Enter Macbeth.

Macb. They haue tied me to a stake, I cannot flye, But Beare-like I
must fight the course. What's he That was not borne of Woman? Such a
one

Am I to feare, or none.

Enter young Seyward.

Y.Sey. What is thy name?

Macb. Thou'lt be affraid to heare it

Y.Sey. No: though thou call'st thy selfe a hoter name Then any is in
hell

Macb. My name's Macbeth

Y.Sey. The diuell himselfe could not pronounce a Title More hatefull
to mine eare

Macb. No: nor more fearefull

Y.Sey. Thou lyest abhorred Tyrant, with my Sword Ile proue the lye
thou speak'st.

Fight, and young Seyward slaine.

Macb. Thou was't borne of woman;

But Swords I smile at, Weapons laugh to scorne, Brandish'd by man
that's of a Woman borne. Enter.

Alarums. Enter Macduffe.

Macd. That way the noise is: Tyrant shew thy face, If thou beest
slaine, and with no stroake of mine, My Wife and Childrens Ghosts will
haunt me still: I cannot strike at wretched Kernes, whose armes Are
hyr'd to beare their Staues; either thou Macbeth, Or else my Sword with
an vnbattered edge

I sheath againe vndeeded. There thou should'st be, By this great
clatter, one of greatest note Seemes bruited. Let me finde him Fortune,
And more I begge not.

Exit. Alarums.

Enter Malcolme and Seyward.

Sey. This way my Lord, the Castles gently rendred: The Tyrants
people, on both sides do fight, The Noble Thanes do brauely in the
Warre, The day almost it selfe professes yours,

And little is to do

Malc. We haue met with Foes

That strike beside vs

Sey. Enter Sir, the Castle.

Exeunt. Alarum

Enter Macbeth.

Macb. Why should I play the Roman Foole, and dye On mine owne sword?
whiles I see liues, the gashes Do better vpon them.

Enter Macduffe.

Macd. Turne Hell-hound, turne

Macb. Of all men else I haue auoyded thee: But get thee backe, my
soule is too much charg'd With blood of thine already

Macd. I haue no words,

My voice is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villaine Then tearmes can giue
thee out.

Fight: Alarum

Macb. Thou loosest labour

As easie may'st thou the intrenchant Ayre With thy keene Sword
impresse, as make me bleed: Let fall thy blade on vulnerable Crests,

I beare a charmed Life, which must not yeeld To one of woman borne

Macd. Dispaire thy Charme,

And let the Angell whom thou still hast seru'd Tell thee, Macduffe was
from his Mothers womb Vntimely ript

Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tels mee so; For it hath Cow'd my
better part of man:

And be these Iugling Fiends no more beleeu'd, That palter with vs in a
double sence,

That keepe the word of promise to our eare, And breake it to our hope.
Ile not fight with thee

Macd. Then yeeld thee Coward,

And liue to be the shew, and gaze o'th' time. Wee'l haue thee, as our
rarer Monsters are Painted vpon a pole, and vnder-writ,

Heere may you see the Tyrant

Macb. I will not yeeld

To kisse the ground before young Malcolmes feet, And to be baited with
the Rabbles curse.

Though Byrnane wood be come to Dunsinane, And thou oppos'd, being of no
woman borne, Yet I will try the last. Before my body,

I throw my warlike Shield: Lay on Macduffe, And damn'd be him, that
first cries hold, enough.

Exeunt. fighting. Alarums.

Enter Fighting, and Macbeth slaine.

Retreat, and Flourish. Enter with Drumme and Colours, Malcolm,
Seyward,

Rosse, Thanes, & Soldiers.

Mal. I would the Friends we misse, were safe arriu'd

Sey. Some must go off: and yet by these I see, So great a day as
this is cheapely bought

Mal. Macduffe is missing, and your Noble Sonne

Rosse. Your son my Lord, ha's paid a souldiers debt, He onely liu'd
but till he was a man,

The which no sooner had his Prowesse confirm'd In the vnshrinking
station where he fought, But like a man he dy'de

Sey. Then he is dead?

Rosse. I, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow Must not be
measur'd by his worth, for then It hath no end

Sey. Had he his hurts before?

Rosse. I, on the Front

Sey. Why then, Gods Soldier be he:

Had I as many Sonnes, as I haue haires,

I would not wish them to a fairer death:

And so his Knell is knoll'd

Mal. Hee's worth more sorrow,

and that Ile spend for him

Sey. He's worth no more,

They say he parted well, and paid his score, And so God be with him.
Here comes newer comfort. Enter Macduffe, with Macbeths head.

Macd. Haile King, for so thou art.

Behold where stands

Th' Vsurpers cursed head: the time is free: I see thee compast with thy
Kingdomes Pearle, That speake my salutation in their minds: Whose
voyces I desire alowd with mine.

Haile King of Scotland

All. Haile King of Scotland.

Flourish.

Mal. We shall not spend a large expence of time, Before we reckon
with your seuerall loues, And make vs euen with you. My Thanes and
Kinsmen Henceforth be Earles, the first that euer Scotland In such an
Honor nam'd: What's more to do, Which would be planted newly with the
time, As calling home our exil'd Friends abroad, That fled the Snares
of watchfull Tyranny, Producing forth the cruell Ministers

Of this dead Butcher, and his Fiend-like Queene; Who (as 'tis thought)
by selfe and violent hands, Tooke off her life. This, and what need
full else That call's vpon vs, by the Grace of Grace, We will performe
in measure, time, and place: So thankes to all at once, and to each
one, Whom we inuite, to see vs Crown'd at Scone.

Flourish. Exeunt Omnes.



FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF MACBETH.

The Tragedie of Hamlet

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Barnardo and Francisco two Centinels.

Barnardo. Who's there?

Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold

your selfe

Bar. Long liue the King

Fran. Barnardo?

Bar. He

Fran. You come most carefully vpon your houre

Bar. 'Tis now strook twelue, get thee to bed Francisco

Fran. For this releefe much thankes: 'Tis bitter cold, And I am
sicke at heart

Barn. Haue you had quiet Guard?

Fran. Not a Mouse stirring

Barn. Well, goodnight. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, the
Riuals of my Watch, bid them make hast. Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Fran. I thinke I heare them. Stand: who's there?   Hor. Friends to
this ground

Mar. And Leige-men to the Dane

Fran. Giue you good night

Mar. O farwel honest Soldier, who hath relieu'd you?   Fra. Barnardo
ha's my place: giue you goodnight.

Exit Fran.

Mar. Holla Barnardo

Bar. Say, what is Horatio there?

Hor. A peece of him

Bar. Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus

Mar. What, ha's this thing appear'd againe to night

Bar. I haue seene nothing

Mar. Horatio saies, 'tis but our Fantasie, And will not let beleefe
take hold of him Touching this dreaded sight, twice seene of vs,
Therefore I haue intreated him along

With vs, to watch the minutes of this Night, That if againe this
Apparition come,

He may approue our eyes, and speake to it

Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appeare

Bar. Sit downe a-while,

And let vs once againe assaile your eares, That are so fortified
against our Story,

What we two Nights haue seene

Hor. Well, sit we downe,

And let vs heare Barnardo speake of this

Barn. Last night of all,

When yond same Starre that's Westward from the Pole Had made his course
t' illume that part of Heauen Where now it burnes, Marcellus and my
selfe, The Bell then beating one

Mar. Peace, breake thee of:

Enter the Ghost.

Looke where it comes againe

Barn. In the same figure, like the King that's dead

Mar. Thou art a Scholler; speake to it Horatio

Barn. Lookes it not like the King? Marke it Horatio

Hora. Most like: It harrowes me with fear & wonder   Barn. It would
be spoke too

Mar. Question it Horatio

Hor. What art thou that vsurp'st this time of night, Together with
that Faire and Warlike forme In which the Maiesty of buried Denmarke

Did sometimes march: By Heauen I charge thee speake

Mar. It is offended

Barn. See, it stalkes away

Hor. Stay: speake; speake: I Charge thee, speake.

Exit the Ghost.

Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer

Barn. How now Horatio? You tremble & look pale: Is not this
something more then Fantasie? What thinke you on't?

Hor. Before my God, I might not this beleeue Without the sensible and
true auouch

Of mine owne eyes

Mar. Is it not like the King?

Hor. As thou art to thy selfe,

Such was the very Armour he had on,

When th' Ambitious Norwey combatted:

So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle He smot the sledded Pollax
on the Ice.

'Tis strange

Mar. Thus twice before, and iust at this dead houre, With Martiall
stalke, hath he gone by our Watch

Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not: But in the
grosse and scope of my Opinion, This boades some strange erruption to
our State

Mar. Good now sit downe, & tell me he that knowes Why this same
strict and most obseruant Watch, So nightly toyles the subiect of the
Land, And why such dayly Cast of Brazon Cannon

And Forraigne Mart for Implements of warre: Why such impresse of
Ship-wrights, whose sore Taske Do's not diuide the Sunday from the
weeke, What might be toward, that this sweaty hast Doth make the Night
ioynt-Labourer with the day: Who is't that can informe me?

Hor. That can I,

At least the whisper goes so: Our last King, Whose Image euen but now
appear'd to vs,

Was (as you know) by Fortinbras of Norway, (Thereto prick'd on by a
most emulate Pride) Dar'd to the Combate. In which, our Valiant Hamlet,
(For so this side of our knowne world esteem'd him) Did slay this
Fortinbras: who by a Seal'd Compact, Well ratified by Law, and
Heraldrie,

Did forfeite (with his life) all those his Lands Which he stood seiz'd
on, to the Conqueror: Against the which, a Moity competent

Was gaged by our King: which had return'd To the Inheritance of
Fortinbras,

Had he bin Vanquisher, as by the same Cou'nant And carriage of the
Article designe,

His fell to Hamlet. Now sir, young Fortinbras, Of vnimproued Mettle,
hot and full,

Hath in the skirts of Norway, heere and there, Shark'd vp a List of
Landlesse Resolutes, For Foode and Diet, to some Enterprize

That hath a stomacke in't: which is no other (And it doth well appeare
vnto our State) But to recouer of vs by strong hand

And termes Compulsatiue, those foresaid Lands So by his Father lost:
and this (I take it) Is the maine Motiue of our Preparations,

The Sourse of this our Watch, and the cheefe head Of this post-hast,
and Romage in the Land. Enter Ghost againe.

But soft, behold: Loe, where it comes againe: Ile crosse it, though it
blast me. Stay Illusion: If thou hast any sound, or vse of Voyce,

Speake to me. If there be any good thing to be done, That may to thee
do ease, and grace to me; speak to me. If thou art priuy to thy
Countries Fate

(Which happily foreknowing may auoyd) Oh speake. Or, if thou hast
vp-hoorded in thy life

Extorted Treasure in the wombe of Earth,

(For which, they say, you Spirits oft walke in death) Speake of it.
Stay, and speake. Stop it Marcellus

Mar. Shall I strike at it with my Partizan?   Hor. Do, if it will
not stand

Barn. 'Tis heere

Hor. 'Tis heere

Mar. 'Tis gone.

Exit Ghost.

We do it wrong, being so Maiesticall

To offer it the shew of Violence,

For it is as the Ayre, invulnerable,

And our vaine blowes, malicious Mockery

Barn. It was about to speake, when the Cocke crew

Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing Vpon a fearfull
Summons. I haue heard,

The Cocke that is the Trumpet to the day, Doth with his lofty and
shrill-sounding Throate Awake the God of Day: and at his warning,
Whether in Sea, or Fire, in Earth, or Ayre, Th' extrauagant, and erring
Spirit, hyes

To his Confine. And of the truth heerein, This present Obiect made
probation

Mar. It faded on the crowing of the Cocke. Some sayes, that euer
'gainst that Season comes Wherein our Sauiours Birch is celebrated, The
Bird of Dawning singeth all night long: And then (they say) no Spirit
can walke abroad, The nights are wholsome, then no Planets strike, No
Faiery talkes, nor Witch hath power to Charme: So hallow'd, and so
gracious is the time

Hor. So haue I heard, and do in part beleeue it. But looke, the
Morne in Russet mantle clad, Walkes o're the dew of yon high Easterne
Hill, Breake we our Watch vp, and by my aduice

Let vs impart what we haue seene to night Vnto yong Hamlet. For vpon my
life,

This Spirit dumbe to vs, will speake to him: Do you consent we shall
acquaint him with it, As needfull in our Loues, fitting our Duty? Mar.
Let do't I pray, and I this morning know Where we shall finde him most
conueniently.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Claudius King of Denmarke, Gertrude the Queene, Hamlet,
Polonius,

Laertes, and his Sister Ophelia, Lords Attendant.

King. Though yet of Hamlet our deere Brothers death The memory be
greene: and that it vs befitted To beare our hearts in greefe, and our
whole Kingdome To be contracted in one brow of woe:

Yet so farre hath Discretion fought with Nature, That we with wisest
sorrow thinke on him, Together with remembrance of our selues.

Therefore our sometimes Sister, now our Queene, Th' imperiall
Ioyntresse of this warlike State, Haue we, as 'twere, with a defeated
ioy,

With one Auspicious, and one Dropping eye, With mirth in Funerall, and
with Dirge in Marriage, In equall Scale weighing Delight and Dole Taken
to Wife; nor haue we heerein barr'd Your better Wisedomes, which haue
freely gone With this affaire along, for all our Thankes. Now followes,
that you know young Fortinbras, Holding a weake supposall of our
worth;

Or thinking by our late deere Brothers death, Our State to be disioynt,
and out of Frame, Colleagued with the dreame of his Aduantage; He hath
not fayl'd to pester vs 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. Enter Voltemand and Cornelius.

Now for our selfe, and for this time of meeting Thus much the businesse
is. We haue heere writ To Norway, Vncle of young Fortinbras,

Who Impotent and Bedrid, scarsely heares

Of this his Nephewes purpose, to suppresse His further gate heerein. In
that the Leuies, The Lists, and full proportions are all made Out of
his subiect: and we heere dispatch You good Cornelius, and you
Voltemand,

For bearing of this greeting to old Norway, Giuing to you no further
personall power

To businesse with the King, more then the scope Of these dilated
Articles allow:

Farewell, and let your hast commend your duty

Volt. In that, and all things, will we shew our duty

King. We doubt it nothing, heartily farewell.

Exit Voltemand and Cornelius.

And now Laertes, what's the newes with you? You told vs of some suite.
What is't Laertes? You cannot speake of Reason to the Dane,

And loose your voyce. What would'st thou beg Laertes, That shall not be
my Offer, not thy Asking? The Head is not more Natiue to the Heart, The
Hand more instrumentall to the Mouth, Then is the Throne of Denmarke to
thy Father. What would'st thou haue Laertes?

Laer. Dread my Lord,

Your leaue and fauour to returne to France, From whence, though
willingly I came to Denmarke To shew my duty in your Coronation,

Yet now I must confesse, that duty done,

My thoughts and wishes bend againe towards France, And bow them to your
gracious leaue and pardon

King. Haue you your Fathers leaue?

What sayes Pollonius?

Pol. He hath my Lord:

I do beseech you giue him leaue to go

King. Take thy faire houre Laertes, time be thine, And thy best
graces spend it at thy will: But now my Cosin Hamlet, and my Sonne?

Ham. A little more then kin, and lesse then kinde

King. How is it that the Clouds still hang on you?   Ham. Not so my
Lord, I am too much i'th' Sun

Queen. Good Hamlet cast thy nightly colour off, And let thine eye
looke like a Friend on Denmarke. Do not for euer with thy veyled lids

Seeke for thy Noble Father in the dust;

Thou know'st 'tis common, all that liues must dye, Passing through
Nature, to Eternity

Ham. I Madam, it is common

Queen. If it be;

Why seemes it so particular with thee

Ham. Seemes Madam? Nay, it is: I know not Seemes: 'Tis not alone my
Inky Cloake (good Mother) Nor Customary suites of solemne Blacke,

Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,

No, nor the fruitfull Riuer in the Eye,

Nor the deiected hauiour of the Visage,

Together with all Formes, Moods, shewes of Griefe, That can denote me
truly. These indeed Seeme, For they are actions that a man might play:
But I haue that Within, which passeth show; These, but the Trappings,
and the Suites of woe

King. 'Tis sweet and commendable

In your Nature Hamlet,

To giue these mourning duties to your Father: But you must know, your
Father lost a Father, That Father lost, lost his, and the Suruiuer
bound In filiall Obligation, for some terme

To do obsequious Sorrow. But to perseuer

In obstinate Condolement, is a course

Of impious stubbornnesse. 'Tis vnmanly greefe, It shewes a will most
incorrect to Heauen, A Heart vnfortified, a Minde impatient,

An Vnderstanding simple, and vnschool'd:

For, what we know must be, and is as common As any the most vulgar
thing to sence,

Why should we in our peeuish Opposition

Take it to heart? Fye, 'tis a fault to Heauen, A fault against the
Dead, a fault to Nature, To Reason most absurd, whose common Theame Is
death of Fathers, and who still hath cried, From the first Coarse, till
he that dyed to day, This must be so. We pray you throw to earth This
vnpreuayling woe, and thinke of vs

As of a Father; For let the world take note, You are the most immediate
to our Throne, And with no lesse Nobility of Loue,

Then that which deerest Father beares his Sonne, Do I impart towards
you. For your intent

In going backe to Schoole in Wittenberg,

It is most retrograde to our desire:

And we beseech you, bend you to remaine

Heere in the cheere and comfort of our eye, Our cheefest Courtier
Cosin, and our Sonne

Qu. Let not thy Mother lose her Prayers Hamlet: I prythee stay with
vs, go not to Wittenberg

Ham. I shall in all my best

Obey you Madam

King. Why 'tis a louing, and a faire Reply, Be as our selfe in
Denmarke. Madam come,

This gentle and vnforc'd accord of Hamlet Sits smiling to my heart; in
grace whereof, No iocond health that Denmarke drinkes to day, But the
great Cannon to the Clowds shall tell, And the Kings Rouce, the Heauens
shall bruite againe, Respeaking earthly Thunder. Come away.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet.

Ham. Oh that this too too solid Flesh, would melt, Thaw, and resolue
it selfe into a Dew:

Or that the Euerlasting had not fixt

His Cannon 'gainst Selfe-slaughter. O God, O God! How weary, stale,
flat, and vnprofitable

Seemes to me all the vses of this world?

Fie on't? Oh fie, fie, 'tis an vnweeded Garden That growes to Seed:
Things rank, and grosse in Nature Possesse it meerely. That it should
come to this: But two months dead: Nay, not so much; not two, So
excellent a King, that was to this

Hiperion to a Satyre: so louing to my Mother, That he might not beteene
the windes of heauen Visit her face too roughly. Heauen and Earth Must
I remember: why she would hang on him, As if encrease of Appetite had
growne

By what is fed on; and yet within a month? Let me not thinke on't:
Frailty, thy name is woman. A little Month, or ere those shooes were
old, With which she followed my poore Fathers body Like Niobe, all
teares. Why she, euen she. (O Heauen! A beast that wants discourse of
Reason Would haue mourn'd longer) married with mine Vnkle, My Fathers
Brother: but no more like my Father, Then I to Hercules. Within a
Moneth?

Ere yet the salt of most vnrighteous Teares Had left the flushing of
her gauled 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 breake my heart, for I must hold my tongue. Enter Horatio,
Barnardo, and Marcellus.

Hor. Haile to your Lordship

Ham. I am glad to see you well:

Horatio, or I do forget my selfe

Hor. The same my Lord,

And your poore Seruant euer

Ham. Sir my good friend,

Ile change that name with you:

And what make you from Wittenberg Horatio? Marcellus

Mar. My good Lord

Ham. I am very glad to see you: good euen Sir. But what in faith
make you from Wittemberge?   Hor. A truant disposition, good my Lord

Ham. I would not haue your Enemy say so; Nor shall you doe mine eare
that violence, To make it truster of your owne report

Against your selfe. I know you are no Truant: But what is your affaire
in Elsenour?

Wee'l teach you to drinke deepe, ere you depart

Hor. My Lord, I came to see your Fathers Funerall

Ham. I pray thee doe not mock me (fellow Student) I thinke it was to
see my Mothers Wedding

Hor. Indeed my Lord, it followed hard vpon

Ham. Thrift thrift Horatio: the Funerall Bakt-meats Did coldly
furnish forth the Marriage Tables; Would I had met my dearest foe in
heauen, Ere I had euer seene that day Horatio.

My father, me thinkes I see my father

Hor. Oh where my Lord?

Ham. In my minds eye (Horatio)

Hor. I saw him once; he was a goodly King

Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all: I shall not look vpon
his like againe

Hor. My Lord, I thinke I saw him yesternight

Ham. Saw? Who?

Hor. My Lord, the King your Father

Ham. The King my Father?

Hor. Season your admiration for a while With an attent eare; till I
may deliuer

Vpon the witnesse of these Gentlemen,

This maruell to you

Ham. For Heauens loue let me heare

Hor. Two nights together, had these Gentlemen (Marcellus and
Barnardo) on their Watch

In the dead wast and middle of the night

Beene thus encountred. A figure like your Father, Arm'd at all points
exactly, Cap a Pe,

Appeares before them, and with sollemne march Goes slow and stately: By
them thrice he walkt, By their opprest and feare-surprized eyes, Within
his Truncheons length; whilst they bestil'd Almost to Ielly with the
Act of feare,

Stand dumbe and speake not to him. This to me In dreadfull secrecie
impart they did,

And I with them the third Night kept the Watch, Whereas they had
deliuer'd both in time,

Forme of the thing; each word made true and good, The Apparition comes.
I knew your Father: These hands are not more like

Ham. But where was this?

Mar. My Lord vpon the platforme where we watcht

Ham. Did you not speake to it?

Hor. My Lord, I did;

But answere made it none: yet once me thought It lifted vp it head, and
did addresse

It selfe to motion, like as it would speake: But euen then, the Morning
Cocke crew lowd; And at the sound it shrunke in hast away, And vanisht
from our sight

Ham. Tis very strange

Hor. As I doe liue my honourd Lord 'tis true; And we did thinke it
writ downe in our duty To let you know of it

Ham. Indeed, indeed Sirs; but this troubles me. Hold you the watch
to Night?

Both. We doe my Lord

Ham. Arm'd, say you?

Both. Arm'd, my Lord

Ham. From top to toe?

Both. My Lord, from head to foote

Ham. Then saw you not his face?

Hor. O yes, my Lord, he wore his Beauer vp

Ham. What, lookt he frowningly?

Hor. A countenance more in sorrow then in anger

Ham. Pale, or red?

Hor. Nay very pale

Ham. And fixt his eyes vpon you?

Hor. Most constantly

Ham. I would I had beene there

Hor. It would haue much amaz'd you

Ham. Very like, very like: staid it long?   Hor. While one with
moderate hast might tell a hundred

All. Longer, longer

Hor. Not when I saw't

Ham. His Beard was grisly? no

Hor. It was, as I haue seene it in his life, A Sable Siluer'd

Ham. Ile watch to Night; perchance 'twill wake againe

Hor. I warrant you it will

Ham. If it assume my noble Fathers person, Ile speake to it, though
Hell it selfe should gape And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, If
you haue hitherto conceald this sight; Let it bee treble in your
silence still:

And whatsoeuer els shall hap to night,

Giue it an vnderstanding but no tongue;

I will requite your loues; so fare ye well: Vpon the Platforme twixt
eleuen and twelue, Ile visit you

All. Our duty to your Honour.

Exeunt

Ham. Your loue, as mine to you: farewell. My Fathers Spirit in
Armes? All is not well: I doubt some foule play: would the Night were
come; Till then sit still my soule; foule deeds will rise, Though all
the earth orewhelm them to mens eies. Enter.



Scena Tertia



Enter Laertes and Ophelia.

Laer. My necessaries are imbark't; Farewell: And Sister, as the Winds
giue Benefit,

And Conuoy is assistant; doe not sleepe,

But let me heare from you

Ophel. Doe you doubt that?

Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his fauours, Hold it a fashion
and a toy in Bloude;

A Violet in the youth of Primy Nature;

Froward, not permanent; sweet not lasting The suppliance of a minute?
No more

Ophel. No more but so

Laer. Thinke it no more:

For nature cressant does not grow alone,

In thewes and Bulke: but as his Temple waxes, The inward seruice of the
Minde and Soule Growes wide withall. Perhaps he loues you now, And now
no soyle nor cautell doth besmerch The vertue of his feare: but you
must feare His greatnesse weigh'd, his will is not his owne; For hee
himselfe is subiect to his Birth: Hee may not, as vnuallued persons
doe,

Carue for himselfe; for, on his choyce depends The sanctity and health
of the whole State. And therefore must his choyce be circumscrib'd Vnto
the voyce and yeelding of that Body, Whereof he is the Head. Then if he
sayes he loues you, It fits your wisedome so farre to beleeue it; As he
in his peculiar Sect and force

May giue his saying deed: which is no further, Then the maine voyce of
Denmarke goes withall. Then weight what losse your Honour may sustaine,
If with too credent eare you list his Songs; Or lose your Heart; or
your chast Treasure open To his vnmastred importunity.

Feare it Ophelia, feare it my deare Sister, And keepe within the reare
of your Affection; Out of the shot and danger of Desire.

The chariest Maid is Prodigall enough,

If she vnmaske her beauty to the Moone:

Vertue it selfe scapes not calumnious stroakes, The Canker Galls, the
Infants of the Spring Too oft before the buttons be disclos'd,

And in the Morne and liquid dew of Youth, Contagious blastments are
most imminent.

Be wary then, best safety lies in feare;

Youth to it selfe rebels, though none else neere

Ophe. I shall th' effect of this good Lesson keepe, As watchmen to
my heart: but good my Brother Doe not as some vngracious Pastors doe,

Shew me the steepe and thorny way to Heauen; Whilst like a puft and
recklesse Libertine Himselfe, the Primrose path of dalliance treads,
And reaks not his owne reade

Laer. Oh, feare me not.

Enter Polonius.

I stay too long; but here my Father comes: A double blessing is a
double grace;

Occasion smiles vpon a second leaue

Polon. Yet heere Laertes? Aboord, aboord for shame, The winde sits
in the shoulder of your saile, And you are staid for there: my blessing
with you; And these few Precepts in thy memory,

See thou Character. Giue thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any vnproportion'd
thoughts his Act:

Be thou familiar; but by no meanes vulgar: The friends thou hast, and
their adoption tride, Grapple them to thy Soule, with hoopes of Steele:
But doe not dull thy palme, with entertainment Of each vnhatch't,
vnfledg'd Comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrell: but being in

Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee. Giue euery man thine eare;
but few thy voyce: Take each mans censure; but reserue thy iudgement:
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy;

But not exprest in fancie; rich, not gawdie: For the Apparell oft
proclaimes the man.

And they in France of the best ranck and station, Are of a most select
and generous cheff in that. Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;

For lone oft loses both it selfe and friend: And borrowing duls the
edge of Husbandry. This aboue all; to thine owne selfe 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

Laer. Most humbly doe I take my leaue, my Lord

Polon. The time inuites you, goe, your seruants tend

Laer. Farewell Ophelia, and remember well What I haue said to you

Ophe. Tis in my memory lockt,

And you your selfe shall keepe the key of it

Laer. Farewell.

Exit Laer.

Polon. What ist Ophelia he hath said to you?   Ophe. So please you,
somthing touching the L[ord]. Hamlet

Polon. Marry, well bethought:

Tis told me he hath very oft of late

Giuen priuate time to you; and you your selfe Haue of your audience
beene 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 doe not vnderstand
your selfe so cleerely, As it behoues my Daughter, and your Honour.
What is betweene you, giue me vp the truth?   Ophe. He hath my Lord of
late, made many tenders Of his affection to me

Polon. Affection, puh. You speake like a greene Girle, Vnsifted in
such perillous Circumstance.

Doe you beleeue his tenders, as you call them?   Ophe. I do not know,
my Lord, what I should thinke

Polon. Marry Ile teach you; thinke your selfe a Baby, That you haue
tane his tenders for true pay, Which are not starling. Tender your
selfe more dearly; Or not to crack the winde of the poore Phrase,
Roaming it thus, you'l tender me a foole

Ophe. My Lord, he hath importun'd me with loue, In honourable
fashion

Polon. I, fashion you may call it, go too, go too

Ophe. And hath giuen countenance to his speech, My Lord, with all
the vowes of Heauen

Polon. I, Springes to catch Woodcocks. I doe know When the Bloud
burnes, how Prodigall the Soule Giues the tongue vowes: these blazes,
Daughter, Giuing more light then heate; extinct in both, Euen in their
promise, as it is a making; You must not take for fire. For this time
Daughter, Be somewhat scanter of your Maiden presence; Set your
entreatments at a higher rate,

Then a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, Beleeue so much in him, that
he is young, And with a larger tether may he walke,

Then may be giuen you. In few, Ophelia,

Doe not beleeue his vowes; for they are Broakers, Not of the eye, which
their Inuestments show: But meere implorators of vnholy Sutes,

Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds, The better to beguile. This
is for all:

I would not, in plaine tearmes, from this time forth, Haue you so
slander any moment leisure,

As to giue words or talke with the Lord Hamlet: Looke too't, I charge
you; come your wayes

Ophe. I shall obey my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet, Horatio, Marcellus.

Ham. The Ayre bites shrewdly: is it very cold?   Hor. It is a nipping
and an eager ayre

Ham. What hower now?

Hor. I thinke it lacks of twelue

Mar. No, it is strooke

Hor. Indeed I heard it not: then it drawes neere the season, Wherein
the Spirit held his wont to walke. What does this meane my Lord?

Ham. The King doth wake to night, and takes his rouse, Keepes wassels
and the swaggering vpspring reeles, And as he dreines his draughts of
Renish downe, The kettle Drum and Trumpet thus bray out The triumph of
his Pledge

Horat. Is it a custome?

Ham. I marry ist;

And to my mind, though I am natiue heere, And to the manner borne: It
is a Custome

More honour'd in the breach, then the obseruance. Enter Ghost.

Hor. Looke my Lord, it comes

Ham. Angels and Ministers of Grace defend vs: Be thou a Spirit of
health, or Goblin damn'd, Bring with thee ayres from Heauen, or blasts
from Hell, Be thy euents wicked or charitable,

Thou com'st in such a questionable shape

That I will speake to thee. Ile call thee Hamlet, King, Father, Royall
Dane: Oh, oh, answer me, Let me not burst in Ignorance; but tell

Why thy Canoniz'd bones Hearsed in death, Haue burst their cerments,
why the Sepulcher Wherein we saw thee quietly enurn'd,

Hath op'd his ponderous and Marble iawes, To cast thee vp againe? What
may this meane? That thou dead Coarse againe in compleat steele,
Reuisits thus the glimpses of the Moone,

Making Night hidious? And we fooles of Nature, So horridly to shake our
disposition,

With thoughts beyond thee; reaches of our Soules, Say, why is this?
wherefore? what should we doe?

Ghost beckens Hamlet.

Hor. It beckons you to goe away with it, As if it some impartment did
desire

To you alone

Mar. Looke with what courteous action

It wafts you to a more remoued ground:

But doe not goe with it

Hor. No, by no meanes

Ham. It will not speake: then will I follow it

Hor. Doe not my Lord

Ham. Why, what should be the feare?

I doe not set my life at a pins fee;

And for my Soule, what can it doe to that? Being a thing immortall as
it selfe:

It waues me forth againe; Ile follow it

Hor. What if it tempt you toward the Floud my Lord? Or to the
dreadfull Sonnet of the Cliffe, That beetles o're his base into the
Sea,

And there assumes some other horrible forme, Which might depriue your
Soueraignty of Reason, And draw you into madnesse thinke of it?

Ham. It wafts me still: goe on, Ile follow thee

Mar. You shall not goe my Lord

Ham. Hold off your hand

Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not goe

Ham. My fate cries out,

And makes each petty Artire in this body, As hardy as the Nemian Lions
nerue:

Still am I cal'd? Vnhand me Gentlemen:

By Heau'n, Ile make a Ghost of him that lets me: I say away, goe on,
Ile follow thee.

Exeunt. Ghost & Hamlet.

Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination

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

Hor. Haue after, to what issue will this come?   Mar. Something is
rotten in the State of Denmarke

Hor. Heauen will direct it

Mar. Nay, let's follow him.

Exeunt.

Enter Ghost and Hamlet.

Ham. Where wilt thou lead me? speak; Ile go no further

Gho. Marke me

Ham. I will

Gho. My hower is almost come,

When I to sulphurous and tormenting Flames Must render vp my selfe

Ham. Alas poore Ghost

Gho. Pitty me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall
vnfold

Ham. Speake, I am bound to heare

Gho. So art thou to reuenge, when thou shalt heare

Ham. What?

Gho. I am thy Fathers Spirit,

Doom'd for a certaine terme to walke the night; And for the day
confin'd to fast in Fiers, Till the foule crimes done in my dayes of
Nature Are burnt and purg'd away? But that I am forbid To tell the
secrets of my Prison-House;

I could a Tale vnfold, whose lightest word Would harrow vp thy soule,
freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like Starres, start from
their Spheres, Thy knotty and combined lockes to part,

And each particular haire to stand an end, Like Quilles vpon the
fretfull Porpentine: But this eternall blason must not be

To eares of flesh and bloud; list Hamlet, oh list, If thou didst euer
thy deare Father loue

Ham. Oh Heauen!

Gho. Reuenge his foule and most vnnaturall Murther

Ham. Murther?

Ghost. Murther most foule, as in the best it is; But this most foule,
strange, and vnnaturall

Ham. Hast, hast me to know it,

That with wings as swift

As meditation, or the thoughts of Loue,

May sweepe to my Reuenge

Ghost. I finde thee apt,

And duller should'st thou be then the fat weede That rots it selfe in
ease, on Lethe Wharfe, Would'st thou not stirre in this. Now Hamlet
heare: It's giuen out, that sleeping in mine Orchard, A Serpent stung
me: so the whole eare of Denmarke, Is by a forged processe of my death

Rankly abus'd: But know thou Noble youth, The Serpent that did sting
thy Fathers life, Now weares his Crowne

Ham. O my Propheticke soule: mine Vncle?   Ghost. I that incestuous,
that adulterate Beast With witchcraft of his wits, hath Traitorous
guifts. Oh wicked Wit, and Gifts, that haue the power So to seduce? Won
to this shamefull Lust

The will of my most seeming vertuous Queene: Oh Hamlet, what a falling
off was there,

From me, whose loue was of that dignity,

That it went hand in hand, euen with the Vow I made to her in Marriage;
and to decline Vpon a wretch, whose Naturall gifts were poore To those
of mine. But Vertue, as it neuer wil be moued, Though Lewdnesse court
it in a shape of Heauen: So Lust, though to a radiant Angell link'd,
Will sate it selfe in a Celestiall bed, & prey on Garbage. But soft, me
thinkes I sent the Mornings Ayre; Briefe let me be: Sleeping within
mine Orchard, My custome alwayes in the afternoone;

Vpon my secure hower thy Vncle stole

With iuyce of cursed Hebenon in a Violl,

And in the Porches of mine eares did poure The leaperous Distilment;
whose effect

Holds such an enmity with bloud of Man,

That swift as Quick-siluer, it courses through The naturall Gates and
Allies of the body; And with a sodaine vigour it doth posset

And curd, like Aygre droppings into Milke, The thin and wholsome blood:
so did it mine; And a most instant Tetter bak'd about,

Most Lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust, All my smooth Body.

Thus was I, sleeping, by a Brothers hand, Of Life, of Crowne, and
Queene at once dispatcht; Cut off euen in the Blossomes of my Sinne,
Vnhouzzled, disappointed, vnnaneld,

No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on
my head;

Oh horrible Oh horrible, most horrible:

If thou hast nature in thee beare it not; Let not the Royall Bed of
Denmarke be

A Couch for Luxury and damned Incest.

But howsoeuer thou pursuest this Act,

Taint not thy mind; nor let thy Soule contriue Against thy Mother
ought; leaue her to heauen, And to those Thornes that in her bosome
lodge, To pricke and sting her. Fare thee well at once; The Glow-worme
showes the Matine to be neere, And gins to pale his vneffectuall Fire:

Adue, adue, Hamlet: remember me.

Enter.

Ham. Oh all you host of Heauen! Oh Earth; what els? And shall I
couple Hell? Oh fie: hold my heart; And you my sinnewes, grow not
instant Old; But beare me stiffely vp: Remember thee?

I, thou poore Ghost, while memory holds a seate In this distracted
Globe: Remember thee?

Yea, from the Table of my Memory,

Ile wipe away all triuiall fond Records,

All sawes of Bookes, all formes, all presures past, That youth and
obseruation coppied there; And thy Commandment all alone shall liue

Within the Booke and Volume of my Braine, Vnmixt with baser matter; yes
yes, by Heauen: Oh most pernicious woman!

Oh Villaine, Villaine, smiling damned Villaine! My Tables, my Tables;
meet it is I set it downe, That one may smile, and smile and be a
Villaine; At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmarke; So Vnckle there
you are: now to my word;

It is; Adue, Adue, Remember me: I haue sworn't

Hor. & Mar. within. My Lord, my Lord.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Mar. Lord Hamlet

Hor. Heauen secure him

Mar. So be it

Hor. Illo, ho, ho, my Lord

Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy; come bird, come

Mar. How ist my Noble Lord?

Hor. What newes, my Lord?

Ham. Oh wonderfull!

Hor. Good my Lord tell it

Ham. No you'l reueale it

Hor. Not I, my Lord, by Heauen

Mar. Nor I, my Lord

Ham. How say you then, would heart of man once think it? But you'l
be secret?

Both. I, by Heau'n, my Lord

Ham. There's nere a villaine dwelling in all Denmarke But hee's an
arrant knaue

Hor. There needs no Ghost my Lord, come from the Graue, to tell vs
this

Ham. Why right, you are i'th' right;

And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake
hands, and part: You, as your busines and desires shall point you: For
euery man ha's businesse and desire,

Such as it is: and for mine owne poore part, Looke you, Ile goe pray

Hor. These are but wild and hurling words, my Lord

Ham. I'm sorry they offend you heartily: Yes faith, heartily

Hor. There's no offence my Lord

Ham. Yes, by Saint Patricke, but there is my Lord, And much offence
too, touching this Vision heere: It is an honest Ghost, that let me
tell you: For your desire to know what is betweene vs, O'remaster't as
you may. And now good friends, As you are Friends, Schollers and
Soldiers, Giue me one poore request

Hor. What is't my Lord? we will

Ham. Neuer make known what you haue seen to night

Both. My Lord, we will not

Ham. Nay, but swear't

Hor. Infaith my Lord, not I

Mar. Nor I my Lord: in faith

Ham. Vpon my sword

Marcell. We haue sworne my Lord already

Ham. Indeed, vpon my sword, Indeed

Gho. Sweare.

Ghost cries vnder the Stage.

Ham. Ah ha boy, sayest thou so. Art thou there truepenny? Come one
you here this fellow in the selleredge Consent to sweare

Hor. Propose the Oath my Lord

Ham. Neuer to speake of this that you haue seene. Sweare by my
sword

Gho. Sweare

Ham. Hic & vbique? Then wee'l shift for grownd, Come hither
Gentlemen,

And lay your hands againe vpon my sword,

Neuer to speake of this that you haue heard: Sweare by my Sword

Gho. Sweare

Ham. Well said old Mole, can'st worke i'th' ground so fast? A worthy
Pioner, once more remoue good friends

Hor. Oh day and night: but this is wondrous strange

Ham. And therefore as a stranger giue it welcome. There are more
things in Heauen and Earth, Horatio, Then are dream't of in our
Philosophy. But come, Here as before, neuer so helpe you mercy, How
strange or odde so ere I beare my selfe; (As I perchance heereafter
shall thinke meet To put an Anticke disposition on:)

That you at such time seeing me, neuer shall With Armes encombred thus,
or thus, head shake; Or by pronouncing of some doubtfull Phrase; As
well, we know, or we could and if we would, Or if we list to speake; or
there be and if there might, Or such ambiguous giuing out to note,

That you know ought of me; this not to doe: So grace and mercy at your
most neede helpe you: Sweare

Ghost. Sweare

Ham. Rest, rest perturbed Spirit: so Gentlemen, With all my loue I
doe commend me to you; And what so poore a man as Hamlet is,

May doe t' expresse his loue and friending to you, God willing shall
not lacke: let vs goe in together, And still your fingers on your
lippes I pray, The time is out of ioynt: Oh cursed spight, That euer I
was borne to set it right.

Nay, come let's goe together.

Exeunt.



Actus Secundus.

Enter Polonius, and Reynoldo.

Polon. Giue him his money, and these notes Reynoldo

Reynol. I will my Lord

Polon. You shall doe maruels wisely: good Reynoldo, Before you
visite him you make inquiry

Of his behauiour

Reynol. My Lord, I did intend it

Polon. Marry, well said;

Very well said. Looke you Sir,

Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; And how, and who; what
meanes; and where they keepe: What company, at what expence: and
finding By this encompassement and drift of question, That they doe
know my sonne: Come you more neerer Then your particular demands will
touch it, Take you as 'twere some distant knowledge of him, And thus I
know his father and his friends, And in part him. Doe you marke this
Reynoldo?   Reynol. I, very well my Lord

Polon. And in part him, but you may say not well; But if't be hee I
meane, hees very wilde; Addicted so and so; and there put on him

What forgeries you please; marry, none so ranke, As may dishonour him;
take heed of that:

But Sir, such wanton, wild, and vsuall slips, As are Companions noted
and most knowne

To youth and liberty

Reynol. As gaming my Lord

Polon. I, or drinking, fencing, swearing, Quarelling, drabbing. You
may goe so farre

Reynol. My Lord that would dishonour him

Polon. Faith no, as you may season it in the charge; You must not
put another scandall on him, That hee is open to Incontinencie;

That's not my meaning: but breath his faults so quaintly, That they may
seeme the taints of liberty; The flash and out-breake of a fiery minde,
A sauagenes in vnreclaim'd bloud of generall assault

Reynol. But my good Lord

Polon. Wherefore should you doe this?

Reynol. I my Lord, I would know that

Polon. Marry Sir, heere's my drift,

And I belieue it is a fetch of warrant:

You laying these slight sulleyes on my Sonne, As 'twere a thing a
little soil'd i'th' working: Marke you your party in conuerse; him you
would sound, Hauing euer seene. In the prenominate crimes, The youth
you breath of guilty, be assur'd He closes with you in this
consequence:

Good sir, or so, or friend, or Gentleman. According to the Phrase and
the Addition, Of man and Country

Reynol. Very good my Lord

Polon. And then Sir does he this?

He does: what was I about to say?

I was about say somthing: where did I leaue?   Reynol. At closes in the
consequence:

At friend, or so, and Gentleman

Polon. At closes in the consequence, I marry, He closes with you
thus. I know the Gentleman, I saw him yesterday, or tother day;

Or then or then, with such and such; and as you say, There was he
gaming, there o'retooke in's Rouse, There falling out at Tennis; or
perchance, I saw him enter such a house of saile;

Videlicet, a Brothell, or so forth. See you now; Your bait of falshood,
takes this Cape of truth; And thus doe we of wisedome and of reach

With windlesses, and with assaies of Bias, By indirections finde
directions out:

So by my former Lecture and aduice

Shall you my Sonne; you haue me, haue you not?   Reynol. My Lord I
haue

Polon. God buy you; fare you well

Reynol. Good my Lord

Polon. Obserue his inclination in your selfe

Reynol. I shall my Lord

Polon. And let him plye his Musicke

Reynol. Well, my Lord.

Enter.

Enter Ophelia.

Polon. Farewell:

How now Ophelia, what's the matter?

Ophe. Alas my Lord, I haue beene so affrighted

Polon. With what, in the name of Heauen?   Ophe. My Lord, as I was
sowing in my Chamber, Lord Hamlet with his doublet all vnbrac'd, No hat
vpon his head, his stockings foul'd, Vngartred, and downe giued to his
Anckle, Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other, And with a
looke so pitious in purport,

As if he had been loosed out of hell,

To speake of horrors: he comes before me

Polon. Mad for thy Loue?

Ophe. My Lord, I doe not know: but truly I do feare it

Polon. What said he?

Ophe. He tooke me by the wrist, and held me hard; Then goes he to the
length of all his arme; And with his other hand thus o're his brow, He
fals to such perusall of my face,

As he would draw it. Long staid he so,

At last, a little shaking of mine Arme:

And thrice his head thus wauing vp and downe; He rais'd a sigh, so
pittious and profound, That it did seeme to shatter all his bulke, And
end his being. That done, he lets me goe, And with his head ouer his
shoulders turn'd, He seem'd to finde his way without his eyes, For out
adores he went without their helpe; And to the last, bended their light
on me

Polon. Goe with me, I will goe seeke the King, This is the very
extasie of Loue,

Whose violent property foredoes it selfe, And leads the will to
desperate Vndertakings, As oft as any passion vnder Heauen,

That does afflict our Natures. I am sorrie, What haue you giuen him any
hard words of late?   Ophe. No my good Lord: but as you did command, I
did repell his Letters, and deny'de

His accesse to me

Pol. That hath made him mad.

I am sorrie that with better speed and iudgement I had not quoted him.
I feare he did but trifle, And meant to wracke thee: but beshrew my
iealousie: It seemes it is as proper to our Age,

To cast beyond our selues in our Opinions, As it is common for the
yonger sort

To lacke discretion. Come, go we to the King, This must be knowne,
being kept close might moue More greefe to hide, then hate to vtter
loue.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter King, Queene, Rosincrane, and Guildensterne Cum alijs.

King. Welcome deere Rosincrance and Guildensterne. Moreouer, that we
much did long to see you, The neede we haue to vse you, did prouoke Our
hastie sending. Something haue you heard Of Hamlets transformation: so
I call it,

Since not th' exterior, nor the inward man Resembles that it was. What
it should bee More then his Fathers death, that thus hath put him So
much from th' vnderstanding of himselfe, I cannot deeme of. I intreat
you both,

That being of so young dayes brought vp with him: And since so
Neighbour'd to his youth, and humour, That you vouchsafe your rest
heere in our Court Some little time: so by your Companies

To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather So much as from Occasions
you may gleane, That open'd lies within our remedie

Qu. Good Gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you, And sure I am, two
men there are not liuing, To whom he more adheres. If it will please
you To shew vs so much Gentrie, and good will, As to expend your time
with vs a-while,

For the supply and profit of our Hope,

Your Visitation shall receiue such thankes As fits a Kings remembrance

Rosin. Both your Maiesties

Might by the Soueraigne power you haue of vs, Put your dread pleasures,
more into Command Then to Entreatie

Guil. We both obey,

And here giue vp our selues, in the full bent, To lay our Seruices
freely at your feete, To be commanded

King. Thankes Rosincrance, and gentle Guildensterne

Qu. Thankes Guildensterne and gentle Rosincrance. And I beseech you
instantly to visit

My too much changed Sonne.

Go some of ye,

And bring the Gentlemen where Hamlet is

Guil. Heauens make our presence and our practises Pleasant and
helpfull to him.

Enter.

Queene. Amen.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. Th' Ambassadors from Norwey, my good Lord, Are ioyfully
return'd

King. Thou still hast bin the father of good Newes

Pol. Haue I, my Lord? Assure you, my good Liege, I hold my dutie, as
I hold my Soule,

Both to my God, one to my gracious King:

And I do thinke, or else this braine of mine Hunts not the traile of
Policie, so sure

As I haue vs'd to do: that I haue found

The very cause of Hamlets Lunacie

King. Oh speake of that, that I do long to heare

Pol. Giue first admittance to th' Ambassadors, My Newes shall be the
Newes to that great Feast

King. Thy selfe do grace to them, and bring them in. He tels me my
sweet Queene, that he hath found The head and sourse of all your Sonnes
distemper

Qu. I doubt it is no other, but the maine, His Fathers death, and
our o're-hasty Marriage. Enter Polonius, Voltumand, and Cornelius.

King. Well, we shall sift him. Welcome good Frends: Say Voltumand,
what from our Brother Norwey?   Volt. Most faire returne of Greetings,
and Desires. Vpon our first, he sent out to suppresse

His Nephewes Leuies, which to him appear'd To be a preparation 'gainst
the Poleak:

But better look'd into, he truly found

It was against your Highnesse, whereat greeued, That so his Sicknesse,
Age, and Impotence Was falsely borne in hand, sends out Arrests On
Fortinbras, which he (in breefe) obeyes, Receiues rebuke from Norwey:
and in fine, Makes Vow before his Vnkle, neuer more

To giue th' assay of Armes against your Maiestie. Whereon old Norwey,
ouercome with ioy,

Giues him three thousand Crownes in Annuall Fee, And his Commission to
imploy those Soldiers So leuied as before, against the Poleak:

With an intreaty heerein further shewne,

That it might please you to giue quiet passe Through your Dominions,
for his Enterprize, On such regards of safety and allowance,

As therein are set downe

King. It likes vs well:

And at our more consider'd time wee'l read, Answer, and thinke vpon
this Businesse.

Meane time we thanke you, for your well-tooke Labour. Go to your rest,
at night wee'l Feast together. Most welcome home.

Exit Ambass.

Pol. This businesse is very well ended. My Liege, and Madam, to
expostulate

What Maiestie should be, what Dutie is,

Why day is day; night, night; and time is time, Were nothing but to
waste Night, Day, and Time. Therefore, since Breuitie is the Soule of
Wit, And tediousnesse, the limbes and outward flourishes, I will be
breefe. Your Noble Sonne is mad: Mad call I it; for to define true
Madnesse, What is't, but to be nothing else but mad. But let that go

Qu. More matter, with lesse Art

Pol. Madam, I sweare I vse no Art at all: That he is mad, 'tis true:
'Tis true 'tis pittie, And pittie it is true: A foolish figure,

But farewell it: for I will vse no Art.

Mad let vs grant him then: and now remaines That we finde out the cause
of this effect, Or rather say, the cause of this defect;

For this effect defectiue, comes by cause, Thus it remaines, and the
remainder thus. Perpend, I haue a daughter: haue, whil'st she is mine,
Who in her Dutie and Obedience, marke,

Hath giuen me this: now gather, and surmise.

The Letter.

To the Celestiall, and my Soules Idoll, the most beautifed Ophelia.
That's an ill Phrase, a vilde Phrase, beautified is a vilde Phrase: but
you shall heare these in her excellent white bosome, these

Qu. Came this from Hamlet to her

Pol. Good Madam stay awhile, I will be faithfull. Doubt thou, the
Starres are fire,

Doubt, that the Sunne doth moue:

Doubt Truth to be a Lier,

But neuer Doubt, I loue.

O deere Ophelia, I am ill at these Numbers: I haue not Art to reckon my
grones; but that I loue thee best, oh most Best beleeue it. Adieu.

Thine euermore most deere Lady, whilst this Machine is to him, Hamlet.

This in Obedience hath my daughter shew'd me: And more aboue hath his
soliciting,

As they fell out by Time, by Meanes, and Place, All giuen to mine eare

King. But how hath she receiu'd his Loue?   Pol. What do you thinke
of me?

King. As of a man, faithfull and Honourable

Pol. I wold faine proue so. But what might you think? When I had
seene this hot loue on the wing, As I perceiued it, I must tell you
that

Before my Daughter told me what might you Or my deere Maiestie your
Queene heere, think, If I had playd the Deske or Table-booke,

Or giuen my heart a winking, mute and dumbe, Or look'd vpon this Loue,
with idle sight, What might you thinke? No, I went round to worke, And
(my yong Mistris) thus I did bespeake Lord Hamlet is a Prince out of
thy Starre, This must not be: and then, I Precepts gaue her, That she
should locke her selfe from his Resort, Admit no Messengers, receiue no
Tokens:

Which done, she tooke the Fruites of my Aduice, And he repulsed. A
short Tale to make,

Fell into a Sadnesse, then into a Fast,

Thence to a Watch, thence into a Weaknesse, Thence to a Lightnesse, and
by this declension Into the Madnesse whereon now he raues,

And all we waile for

King. Do you thinke 'tis this?

Qu. It may be very likely

Pol. Hath there bene such a time, I'de fain know that, That I haue
possitiuely said, 'tis so,

When it prou'd otherwise?

King. Not that I know

Pol. Take this from this; if this be otherwise, If Circumstances
leade me, I will finde

Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeede Within the Center

King. How may we try it further?

Pol. You know sometimes

He walkes foure houres together, heere

In the Lobby

Qu. So he ha's indeed

Pol. At such a time Ile loose my Daughter to him, Be you and I
behinde an Arras then,

Marke the encounter: If he loue her not,

And be not from his reason falne thereon; Let me be no Assistant for a
State,

And keepe a Farme and Carters

King. We will try it.

Enter Hamlet reading on a Booke.

Qu. But looke where sadly the poore wretch Comes reading

Pol. Away I do beseech you, both away, Ile boord him presently.

Exit King & Queen.

Oh giue me leaue. How does my good Lord Hamlet?   Ham. Well,
God-a-mercy

Pol. Do you know me, my Lord?

Ham. Excellent, excellent well: y'are a Fishmonger

Pol. Not I my Lord

Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man

Pol. Honest, my Lord?

Ham. I sir, to be honest as this world goes, is to bee one man pick'd
out of two thousand

Pol. That's very true, my Lord

Ham. For if the Sun breed Magots in a dead dogge, being a good
kissing Carrion-

Haue you a daughter?

Pol. I haue my Lord

Ham. Let her not walke i'thSunne: Conception is a blessing, but not
as your daughter may conceiue. Friend looke too't

Pol. 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 farre gone, farre
gone: and truly in my youth, I suffred much extreamity for loue: very
neere this. Ile speake to him againe. What do you read my Lord?   Ham.
Words, words, words

Pol. What is the matter, my Lord?

Ham. Betweene who?

Pol. I meane the matter you meane, my Lord

Ham. Slanders Sir: for the Satyricall slaue saies here, that old men
haue gray Beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging
thicke Amber, or Plum-Tree Gumme: and that they haue a plentifull locke
of Wit, together with weake Hammes. All which Sir, though I most
powerfully, and potently beleeue; yet I holde it not Honestie to haue
it thus set downe: For you your selfe Sir, should be old as I am, if
like a Crab you could go backward

Pol. Though this be madnesse,

Yet there is Method in't: will you walke

Out of the ayre my Lord?

Ham. Into my Graue?

Pol. Indeed that is out o'th' Ayre:

How pregnant (sometimes) his Replies are? A happinesse,

That often Madnesse hits on,

Which Reason and Sanitie could not

So prosperously be deliuer'd of.

I will leaue him,

And sodainely contriue the meanes of meeting Betweene him, and my
daughter.

My Honourable Lord, I will most humbly

Take my leaue of you

Ham. You cannot Sir take from me any thing, that I will more
willingly part withall, except my life, my life

Polon. Fare you well my Lord

Ham. These tedious old fooles

Polon. You goe to seeke my Lord Hamlet; there hee is.

Enter Rosincran and Guildensterne.

Rosin. God saue you Sir

Guild. Mine honour'd Lord?

Rosin. My most deare Lord?

Ham. My excellent good friends? How do'st thou Guildensterne? Oh,
Rosincrane; good Lads: How doe ye both?

Rosin. As the indifferent Children of the earth

Guild. Happy, in that we are not ouer-happy: on Fortunes Cap, we are
not the very Button

Ham. Nor the Soales of her Shoo?

Rosin. Neither my Lord

Ham. Then you liue about her waste, or in the middle of her fauour?

Guil. Faith, her priuates, we

Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? Oh, most true: she is a
Strumpet. What's the newes?

Rosin. None my Lord; but that the World's growne honest

Ham. Then is Doomesday neere: But your newes is not true. Let me
question more in particular: what haue you my good friends, deserued at
the hands of Fortune, that she sends you to Prison hither?

Guil. Prison, my Lord?

Ham. Denmark's a Prison

Rosin. Then is the World one

Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many Confines, Wards, and
Dungeons; Denmarke being one o'th' worst

Rosin. We thinke not so my Lord

Ham. 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

Rosin. Why then your Ambition makes it one: 'tis too narrow for your
minde

Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count my selfe a
King of infinite space; were it not that I haue bad dreames

Guil. Which dreames indeed are Ambition: for the very substance of
the Ambitious, is meerely the shadow of a Dreame

Ham. A dreame it selfe is but a shadow

Rosin. Truely, and I hold Ambition of so ayry and light a quality,
that it is but a shadowes shadow

Ham. Then are our Beggers bodies; and our Monarchs and out-stretcht
Heroes the Beggers Shadowes: shall wee to th' Court: for, by my fey I
cannot reason?   Both. Wee'l wait vpon you

Ham. No such matter. I will not sort you with the rest of my
seruants: for to speake to you like an honest man: I am most dreadfully
attended; but in the beaten way of friendship, What make you at
Elsonower?   Rosin. To visit you my Lord, no other occasion

Ham. Begger that I am, I am euen poore in thankes; but I thanke you:
and sure deare friends my thanks are too deare a halfepeny; were you
not sent for? Is it your owne inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come,
deale iustly with me: come, come; nay speake

Guil. What should we say my Lord?

Ham. Why any thing. But to the purpose; you were sent for; and there
is a kinde confession in your lookes; which your modesties haue not
craft enough to color, I know the good King & Queene haue sent for you

Rosin. To what end my Lord?

Ham. That you must teach me: but let mee coniure you by the rights of
our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the Obligation of
our euer-preserued loue, and by what more deare, a better proposer
could charge you withall; be euen and direct with me, whether you were
sent for or no

Rosin. What say you?

Ham. Nay then I haue an eye of you: if you loue me hold not off

Guil. My Lord, we were sent for

Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation preuent your
discouery of your secricie to the King and Queene: moult no feather, I
haue of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all
custome of exercise; and indeed, it goes so heauenly with my
disposition; that this goodly frame the Earth, seemes to me a sterrill
Promontory; this most excellent Canopy the Ayre, look you, this braue
ore-hanging, this Maiesticall Roofe, fretted with golden fire: why, it
appeares no other thing to mee, then a foule and pestilent congregation
of vapours. What a piece of worke is a man! how Noble in Reason? how
infinite in faculty? in forme and mouing how expresse and admirable? in
Action, how like an Angel? in apprehension, how like a God? the beauty
of the world, the Parragon 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 seeme to say so

Rosin. My Lord, there was no such stuffe in my thoughts

Ham. Why did you laugh, when I said, Man delights not me?

Rosin. To thinke, my Lord, if you delight not in Man, what Lenton
entertainment the Players shall receiue from you: wee coated them on
the way, and hither are they comming to offer you Seruice

Ham. He that playes the King shall be welcome; his Maiesty shall
haue Tribute of mee: the aduenturous Knight shal vse his Foyle and
Target: the Louer shall not sigh gratis, the humorous man shall end his
part in peace: the Clowne shall make those laugh whose lungs are
tickled a'th' sere: and the Lady shall say her minde freely; or the
blanke Verse shall halt for't: what Players are they?

Rosin. Euen those you were wont to take delight in the Tragedians of
the City

Ham. How chances it they trauaile? their residence both in
reputation and profit was better both wayes

Rosin. I thinke their Inhibition comes by the meanes of the late
Innouation?

Ham. Doe they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the
City? Are they so follow'd?   Rosin. No indeed, they are not

Ham. How comes it? doe they grow rusty?   Rosin. Nay, their
indeauour keepes in the wonted pace; But there is Sir an ayrie of
Children, little Yases, that crye out on the top of question; and are
most tyrannically clap't for't: these are now the fashion, and so
be-ratled the common Stages (so they call them) that many wearing
Rapiers, are affraide of Goose-quils, and dare scarse come thither

Ham. What are they Children? Who maintains 'em? How are they
escorted? Will they pursue the Quality no longer then they can sing?
Will they not say afterwards if they should grow themselues to common
Players (as it is most like if their meanes are not better) their
Writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their owne
Succession

Rosin. Faith there ha's bene much to do on both sides: and the
Nation holds it no sinne, to tarre them to Controuersie. There was for
a while, no mony bid for argument, vnlesse the Poet and the Player went
to Cuffes in the Question

Ham. Is't possible?

Guild. Oh there ha's beene much throwing about of Braines

Ham. Do the Boyes carry it away?

Rosin. I that they do my Lord. Hercules & his load too

Ham. It is not strange: for mine Vnckle is King of Denmarke, and
those that would make mowes at him while my Father liued; giue twenty,
forty, an hundred Ducates a peece, for his picture in Little. There is
something in this more then Naturall, if Philosophie could finde it
out.

Flourish for the Players.

Guil. There are the Players

Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcom to Elsonower: your hands, come: The
appurtenance of Welcome, is Fashion and Ceremony. Let me comply with
you in the Garbe, lest my extent to the Players (which I tell you must
shew fairely outward) should more appeare like entertainment then
yours. You are welcome: but my Vnckle Father, and Aunt Mother are
deceiu'd

Guil. In what my deere Lord?

Ham. I am but mad North, North-West: when the Winde is Southerly, I
know a Hawke from a Handsaw. Enter Polonius.

Pol. Well be with you Gentlemen

Ham. Hearke you Guildensterne, and you too: at each eare a hearer:
that great Baby you see there, is not yet out of his swathing clouts

Rosin. Happily he's the second time come to them: for they say, an
old man is twice a childe

Ham. I will Prophesie. Hee comes to tell me of the Players. Mark it,
you say right Sir: for a Monday morning 'twas so indeed

Pol. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you

Ham. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you. When Rossius an Actor in
Rome-

Pol. The Actors are come hither my Lord

Ham. Buzze, buzze

Pol. Vpon mine Honor

Ham. Then can each Actor on his Asse-

Polon. The best Actors in the world, either for Tragedie, Comedie,
Historie, Pastorall:

Pastoricall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall: Tragicall-Historicall:
Tragicall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall: Scene indiuidible: or Poem

vnlimited. Seneca cannot be too heauy, nor Plautus too light, for the
law of Writ, and the Liberty. These are the onely men

Ham. O Iephta Iudge of Israel, what a Treasure had'st thou?

Pol. What a Treasure had he, my Lord?

Ham. Why one faire Daughter, and no more, The which he loued passing
well

Pol. Still on my Daughter

Ham. Am I not i'th' right old Iephta?

Polon. If you call me Iephta my Lord, I haue a daughter that I loue
passing well

Ham. Nay that followes not

Polon. What followes then, my Lord?

Ha. Why, As by lot, God wot: and then you know, It came to passe, as
most like it was: The first rowe of the Pons Chanson will shew you
more. For looke where my Abridgements come.

Enter foure or fiue Players.

Y'are welcome Masters, welcome all. I am glad to see thee well: Welcome
good Friends. Oh my olde Friend? Thy face is valiant since I saw thee
last: Com'st thou to beard me in Denmarke? What, my yong Lady and
Mistris? Byrlady your Ladiship is neerer Heauen then when I saw you
last, by the altitude of a Choppine. Pray God your voice like a peece
of vncurrant Gold be not crack'd within the ring. Masters, you are all
welcome: wee'l e'ne to't like French Faulconers, flie at any thing we
see: wee'l haue a Speech straight. Come giue vs a tast of your quality:
come, a passionate speech

1.Play. What speech, my Lord?

Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was neuer Acted: or
if it was, not aboue once, for the Play I remember pleas'd not the
Million, 'twas Cauiarie to the Generall: but it was (as I receiu'd it,
and others, whose iudgement in such matters, cried in the top of mine)
an excellent Play; well digested in the Scoenes, set downe with as much
modestie, as cunning. I remember one said, there was no Sallets in the
lines, to make the matter sauory; nor no matter in the phrase, that
might indite the Author of affectation, but cal'd it an honest method.
One cheefe Speech in it, I cheefely lou'd, 'twas Aeneas Tale to Dido,
and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priams slaughter.
If it liue in your memory, begin at this Line, let me see, let me see:
The rugged Pyrrhus like th'Hyrcanian Beast. It is not so: it begins
with Pyrrhus The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose Sable Armes

Blacke as his purpose, did the night resemble When he lay couched in
the Ominous Horse, Hath now this dread and blacke Complexion smear'd
With Heraldry more dismall: Head to foote Now is he to take Geulles,
horridly Trick'd With blood of Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sonnes,
Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous,
and damned light

To their vilde Murthers, roasted in wrath and fire, And thus o're-sized
with coagulate gore,

With eyes like Carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus Olde Grandsire Priam
seekes

Pol. Fore God, my Lord, well spoken, with good accent, and good
discretion

1.Player. Anon he findes him,

Striking too short at Greekes. His anticke Sword, Rebellious to his
Arme, lyes where it falles Repugnant to command: vnequall match,

Pyrrhus at Priam driues, in Rage strikes wide: But with the whiffe and
winde of his fell Sword, Th' vnnerued Father fals. Then senselesse
Illium, Seeming to feele his blow, with flaming top Stoopes to his
Bace, and with a hideous crash Takes Prisoner Pyrrhus eare. For loe,
his Sword Which was declining on the Milkie head

Of Reuerend Priam, seem'd i'th' Ayre to sticke: So as a painted Tyrant
Pyrrhus stood,

And like a Newtrall to his will and matter, did nothing. But as we
often see against some storme,

A silence in the Heauens, the Racke stand still, The bold windes
speechlesse, and the Orbe below As hush as death: Anon the dreadfull
Thunder Doth rend the Region. So after Pyrrhus pause, A rowsed
Vengeance sets him new a-worke,

And neuer did the Cyclops hammers fall

On Mars his Armours, forg'd for proofe Eterne, With lesse remorse then
Pyrrhus bleeding sword Now falles on Priam.

Out, out, thou Strumpet-Fortune, all you Gods, In generall Synod take
away her power:

Breake all the Spokes and Fallies from her wheele, And boule the round
Naue downe the hill of Heauen, As low as to the Fiends

Pol. This is too long

Ham. It shall to'th Barbars, with your beard. Prythee say on: He's
for a Iigge, or a tale of Baudry, or hee sleepes. Say on; come to
Hecuba

1.Play. But who, O who, had seen the inobled Queen

Ham. The inobled Queene?

Pol. That's good: Inobled Queene is good

1.Play. Run bare-foot vp and downe,

Threatning the flame

With Bisson Rheume: A clout about that head, Where late the Diadem
stood, and for a Robe About her lanke and all ore-teamed Loines, A
blanket in th' Alarum of feare caught vp. Who this had seene, with
tongue in Venome steep'd, 'Gainst Fortunes State, would Treason haue
pronounc'd? But if the Gods themselues did see her then, When she saw
Pyrrhus make malicious sport In mincing with his Sword her Husbands
limbes, The instant Burst of Clamour that she made (Vnlesse things
mortall moue them not at all) Would haue made milche the Burning eyes
of Heauen, And passion in the Gods

Pol. Looke where he ha's not turn'd his colour, and ha's teares in's
eyes. Pray you no more

Ham. 'Tis well, Ile haue thee speake out the rest, soone. Good my
Lord, will you see the Players wel bestow'd. Do ye heare, let them be
well vs'd: for they are the Abstracts and breefe Chronicles of the
time. After your death, you were better haue a bad Epitaph, then their
ill report while you liued

Pol. My Lord, I will vse them according to their desart

Ham. Gods bodykins man, better. Vse euerie man after his desart, and
who should scape whipping: vse them after your own Honor and Dignity.
The lesse they deserue, the more merit is in your bountie. Take them
in

Pol. Come sirs.

Exit Polon.

Ham. Follow him Friends: wee'l heare a play to morrow. Dost thou
heare me old Friend, can you play the murther of Gonzago?

Play. I my Lord

Ham. Wee'l ha't to morrow night. You could for a need study a speech
of some dosen or sixteene lines, which I would set downe, and insert
in't? Could ye not?   Play. I my Lord

Ham. Very well. Follow that Lord, and looke you mock him not. My
good Friends, Ile leaue you til night you are welcome to Elsonower?

Rosin. Good my Lord.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet.

Ham. I so, God buy'ye: Now I am alone.

Oh what a Rogue and Pesant slaue am I?

Is it not monstrous that this Player heere, But in a Fixion, in a
dreame of Passion,

Could force his soule so to his whole conceit, That from her working,
all his visage warm'd; Teares in his eyes, distraction in's Aspect, A
broken voyce, and his whole Function suiting With Formes, to his
Conceit? And all for nothing? For Hecuba?

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,

That he should weepe for her? What would he doe, Had he the Motiue and
the Cue for passion That I haue? He would drowne the Stage with teares,
And cleaue the generall eare with horrid speech: Make mad the guilty,
and apale the free,

Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed,

The very faculty of Eyes and Eares. Yet I, A dull and muddy-metled
Rascall, peake

Like Iohn a-dreames, vnpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing: No,
not for a King,

Vpon whose property, and most deere life, A damn'd defeate was made. Am
I a Coward? Who calles me Villaine? breakes my pate a-crosse? Pluckes
off my Beard, and blowes it in my face? Tweakes me by'th' Nose? giues
me the Lye i'th' Throate, As deepe as to the Lungs? Who does me this?
Ha? Why I should take it: for it cannot be, But I am Pigeon-Liuer'd,
and lacke Gall

To make Oppression bitter, or ere this,

I should haue fatted all the Region Kites With this Slaues Offall,
bloudy: a Bawdy villaine, Remorselesse, Treacherous, Letcherous,
kindles villaine! Oh Vengeance!

Who? What an Asse am I? I sure, this is most braue, That I, the Sonne
of the Deere murthered, Prompted to my Reuenge by Heauen, and Hell,
Must (like a Whore) vnpacke my heart with words, And fall a Cursing
like a very Drab.

A Scullion? Fye vpon't: Foh. About my Braine. I haue heard, that guilty
Creatures sitting at a Play, Haue by the very cunning of the Scoene,

Bene strooke so to the soule, that presently They haue proclaim'd their
Malefactions.

For Murther, though it haue no tongue, will speake With most myraculous
Organ. Ile haue these Players, Play something like the murder of my
Father, Before mine Vnkle. Ile obserue his lookes, Ile rent him to the
quicke: If he but blench I know my course. The Spirit that I haue seene
May be the Diuell, and the Diuel hath power T' assume a pleasing shape,
yea and perhaps Out of my Weaknesse, and my Melancholly,

As he is very potent with such Spirits,

Abuses me to damne me. Ile haue grounds

More Relatiue then this: The Play's the thing, Wherein Ile catch the
Conscience of the King.

Exit

Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance, Guildenstern, and

Lords.

King. And can you by no drift of circumstance Get from him why he
puts on this Confusion: Grating so harshly all his dayes of quiet With
turbulent and dangerous Lunacy

Rosin. He does confesse he feeles himselfe distracted, But from what
cause he will by no meanes speake

Guil. Nor do we finde him forward to be sounded, But with a crafty
Madnesse keepes aloofe: When we would bring him on to some Confession
Of his true state

Qu. Did he receiue you well?

Rosin. Most like a Gentleman

Guild. But with much forcing of his disposition

Rosin. Niggard of question, but of our demands Most free in his
reply

Qu. Did you assay him to any pastime?

Rosin. Madam, it so fell out, that certaine Players We ore-wrought on
the way: of these we told him, And there did seeme in him a kinde of
ioy To heare of it: They are about the Court, And (as I thinke) they
haue already order This night to play before him

Pol. 'Tis most true:

And he beseech'd me to intreate your Maiesties To heare, and see the
matter

King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me To heare him so
inclin'd. Good Gentlemen, Giue him a further edge, and driue his
purpose on To these delights

Rosin. We shall my Lord.

Exeunt.

King. Sweet Gertrude leaue vs too,

For we haue closely sent for Hamlet hither, That he, as 'twere by
accident, may there Affront Ophelia. Her Father, and my selfe (lawful
espials) Will so bestow our selues, that seeing vnseene We may of their
encounter frankely iudge, And gather by him, as he is behaued,

If't be th' affliction of his loue, or no. That thus he suffers for

Qu. I shall obey you,

And for your part Ophelia, I do wish

That your good Beauties be the happy cause Of Hamlets wildenesse: so
shall I hope your Vertues Will bring him to his wonted way againe,

To both your Honors

Ophe. Madam, I wish it may

Pol. Ophelia, walke you heere. Gracious so please ye We will bestow
our selues: Reade on this booke, That shew of such an exercise may
colour

Your lonelinesse. We are oft too blame in this, 'Tis too much prou'd,
that with Deuotions visage, And pious Action, we do surge o're

The diuell himselfe

King. Oh 'tis true:

How smart a lash that speech doth giue my Conscience? The Harlots
Cheeke beautied with plaist'ring Art Is not more vgly to the thing that
helpes it, Then is my deede, to my most painted word. Oh heauie
burthen!

Pol. I heare him comming, let's withdraw my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Question: Whether 'tis Nobler
in the minde to suffer The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune, Or
to take Armes against a Sea of troubles, And by opposing end them: to
dye, to sleepe No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end

The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes That Flesh is heyre
too? 'Tis a consummation Deuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe,

To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub, For in that sleepe
of death, what dreames may come, When we haue shuffel'd off this
mortall coile, Must giue vs pawse. There's the respect

That makes Calamity of so long life:

For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time, The Oppressors
wrong, the poore mans Contumely, The pangs of dispriz'd Loue, the Lawes
delay, The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes

That patient merit of the vnworthy takes, When he himselfe might his
Quietus make

With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare To grunt and sweat
vnder a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death, The vndiscouered Countrey,
from whose Borne No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will,

And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue, Then flye to others that
we know not of.

Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all, And thus the Natiue hew of
Resolution

Is sicklied o're, with the pale cast of Thought, And enterprizes of
great pith and moment, With this regard their Currants turne away, And
loose the name of Action. Soft you now, The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in
thy Orizons

Be all my sinnes remembred

Ophe. Good my Lord,

How does your Honor for this many a day?

Ham. I humbly thanke you: well, well, well

Ophe. My Lord, I haue Remembrances of yours, That I haue longed long
to re-deliuer.

I pray you now, receiue them

Ham. No, no, I neuer gaue you ought

Ophe. My honor'd Lord, I know right well you did, And with them
words of so sweet breath compos'd, As made the things more rich, then
perfume left: Take these againe, for to the Noble minde Rich gifts wax
poore, when giuers proue vnkinde. There my Lord

Ham. Ha, ha: Are you honest?

Ophe. My Lord

Ham. Are you faire?

Ophe. What meanes your Lordship?

Ham. That if you be honest and faire, your Honesty should admit no
discourse to your Beautie

Ophe. Could Beautie my Lord, haue better Comerce then your
Honestie?

Ham. I trulie: for the power of Beautie, will sooner transforme
Honestie from what is, to a Bawd, then the force of Honestie can
translate Beautie into his likenesse. This was sometime a Paradox, but
now the time giues it proofe. I did loue you once

Ophe. Indeed my Lord, you made me beleeue so

Ham. You should not haue beleeued me. For vertue cannot so
innocculate our old stocke, but we shall rellish of it. I loued you
not

Ophe. I was the more deceiued

Ham. Get thee to a Nunnerie. Why would'st thou be a breeder of
Sinners? I am my selfe indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of
such things, that it were better my Mother had not borne me. I am very
prowd, reuengefull, Ambitious, with more offences at my becke, then I
haue thoughts to put them in imagination, to giue them shape, or time
to acte them in. What should such Fellowes as I do, crawling betweene
Heauen and Earth. We are arrant Knaues all, beleeue none of vs. Goe thy
wayes to a Nunnery. Where's your Father?

Ophe. At home, my Lord

Ham. Let the doores be shut vpon him, that he may play the Foole no
way, but in's owne house. Farewell

Ophe. O helpe him, you sweet Heauens

Ham. If thou doest Marry, Ile giue thee this Plague for thy Dowrie.
Be thou as chast 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. Farwell

Ophe. O heauenly Powers, restore him

Ham. I haue heard of your pratlings too wel enough. God has giuen
you one pace, and you make your selfe another: you gidge, you amble,
and you lispe, and nickname Gods creatures, and make your Wantonnesse,
your Ignorance. Go too, Ile no more on't, it hath made me mad. I say,
we will haue no more Marriages. Those that are married already, all but
one shall liue, the rest shall keep as they are. To a Nunnery, go.

Exit Hamlet.

Ophe. O what a Noble minde is heere o're-throwne? The Courtiers,
Soldiers, Schollers: Eye, tongue, sword, Th' expectansie and Rose of
the faire State, The glasse of Fashion, and the mould of Forme, Th'
obseru'd of all Obseruers, quite, quite downe. Haue I of Ladies most
deiect and wretched, That suck'd the Honie of his Musicke Vowes: Now
see that Noble, and most Soueraigne Reason, Like sweet Bels iangled out
of tune, and harsh, That vnmatch'd Forme and Feature of blowne youth,
Blasted with extasie. Oh woe is me,

T'haue seene what I haue seene: see what I see. Enter King, and
Polonius.

King. Loue? His affections do not that way tend, Nor what he spake,
though it lack'd Forme a little, Was not like Madnesse. There's
something in his soule? O're which his Melancholly sits on brood, And I
do doubt the hatch, and the disclose Will be some danger, which to
preuent

I haue in quicke determination

Thus set it downe. He shall with speed to England For the demand of our
neglected Tribute:

Haply the Seas and Countries different

With variable Obiects, shall expell

This something setled matter in his heart: Whereon his Braines still
beating, puts him thus From fashion of himselfe. What thinke you on't?
Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I beleeue The Origin and Commencement
of this greefe Sprung from neglected loue. How now Ophelia? You neede
not tell vs, what Lord Hamlet saide, We heard it all. My Lord, do as
you please, But if you hold it fit after the Play,

Let his Queene Mother all alone intreat him To shew his Greefes: let
her be round with him, And Ile be plac'd so, please you in the eare Of
all their Conference. If she finde him not, To England send him: Or
confine him where Your wisedome best shall thinke

King. It shall be so:

Madnesse in great Ones, must not vnwatch'd go.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet, and two or three of the Players.

Ham. Speake the Speech I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you
trippingly on the Tongue: But if you mouth it, as many of your Players
do, I had as liue the Town-Cryer had spoke my Lines: Nor do not saw the
Ayre too much your hand thus, but vse all gently; for in the verie
Torrent, Tempest, and (as I say) the Whirle-winde of Passion, you must
acquire and beget a Temperance that may giue it Smoothnesse. O it
offends mee to the Soule, to see a robustious Pery-wig-pated Fellow,
teare a Passion to tatters, to verie ragges, to split the eares of the
Groundlings: who (for the most part) are capeable of nothing, but
inexplicable dumbe shewes, & noise: I could haue such a Fellow whipt
for o're-doing Termagant: it outHerod's Herod. Pray you auoid it

Player. I warrant your Honor

Ham. Be not too tame neyther: but let your owne Discretion be your
Tutor. Sute the Action to the Word, the Word to the Action, with this
speciall obseruance: That you ore-stop not the modestie of Nature; for
any thing so ouer-done, is fro[m] the purpose of Playing, whose end
both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as 'twer the Mirrour vp
to Nature; to shew Vertue her owne Feature, Scorne her owne Image, and
the verie Age and Bodie of the Time, his forme and pressure. Now, this
ouer-done, or come tardie off, though it make the vnskilfull laugh,
cannot but make the Iudicious greeue; The censure of the which One,
must in your allowance o'reway a whole Theater of Others. Oh, there bee
Players that I haue seene Play, and heard others praise, and that
highly (not to speake it prophanely) that neyther hauing the accent of
Christians, nor the gate of Christian, Pagan, or Norman, haue so
strutted and bellowed, that I haue thought some of Natures Iouerney-men
had made men, and not made them well, they imitated Humanity so
abhominably

Play. I hope we haue reform'd that indifferently with vs, Sir

Ham. O reforme it altogether. And let those that play your Clownes,
speake no more then is set downe for them. For there be of them, that
will themselues laugh, to set on some quantitie of barren Spectators to
laugh too, though in the meane time, some necessary Question of the
Play be then to be considered: that's Villanous, & shewes a most
pittifull Ambition in the Foole that vses it. Go make you readie.

Exit Players.

Enter Polonius, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne.

How now my Lord,

Will the King heare this peece of Worke?

Pol. And the Queene too, and that presently

Ham. Bid the Players make hast.

Exit Polonius.

Will you two helpe to hasten them?

Both. We will my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Horatio.

Ham. What hoa, Horatio?

Hora. Heere sweet Lord, at your Seruice

Ham. Horatio, thou art eene as iust a man As ere my Conuersation
coap'd withall

Hora. O my deere Lord

Ham. Nay, do not thinke I flatter:

For what aduancement may I hope from thee, That no Reuennew hast, but
thy good spirits To feed & cloath thee. Why shold the poor be
flatter'd? No, let the Candied tongue, like absurd pompe, And crooke
the pregnant Hindges of the knee, Where thrift may follow faining? Dost
thou heare, Since my deere Soule was Mistris of my choyse, And could of
men distinguish, her election Hath seal'd thee for her selfe. For thou
hast bene As one in suffering all, that suffers nothing. A man that
Fortunes buffets, and Rewards

Hath 'tane with equall Thankes. And blest are those, Whose Blood and
Iudgement are so well co-mingled, That they are not a Pipe for Fortunes
finger. To sound what stop she please. Giue me that man, That is not
Passions Slaue, and I will weare him In my hearts Core. I, in my Heart
of heart, As I do thee. Something too much of this. There is a Play to
night to before the King. One Scoene of it comes neere the Circumstance
Which I haue told thee, of my Fathers death. I prythee, when thou
see'st that Acte a-foot, Euen with the verie Comment of my Soule

Obserue mine Vnkle: If his occulted guilt, Do not it selfe vnkennell in
one speech,

It is a damned Ghost that we haue seene:

And my Imaginations are as foule

As Vulcans Stythe. Giue him needfull note, For I mine eyes will riuet
to his Face:

And after we will both our iudgements ioyne, To censure of his seeming

Hora. Well my Lord.

If he steale ought the whil'st this Play is Playing, And scape
detecting, I will pay the Theft. Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia,
Rosincrance, Guildensterne, and

other Lords attendant with his Guard carrying Torches. Danish March.
Sound

a Flourish.

Ham. They are comming to the Play: I must be idle. Get you a place

King. How fares our Cosin Hamlet?

Ham. Excellent Ifaith, of the Camelions dish: I eate the Ayre
promise-cramm'd, you cannot feed Capons so

King. I haue nothing with this answer Hamlet, these words are not
mine

Ham. No, nor mine. Now my Lord, you plaid once i'th' Vniuersity, you
say?

Polon. That I did my Lord, and was accounted a good Actor

Ham. And what did you enact?

Pol. I did enact Iulius Caesar, I was kill'd i'th' Capitol: Brutus
kill'd me

Ham. It was a bruite part of him, to kill so Capitall a Calfe there.
Be the Players ready?

Rosin. I my Lord, they stay vpon your patience

Qu. Come hither my good Hamlet, sit by me

Ha. No good Mother, here's Mettle more attractiue

Pol. Oh ho, do you marke that?

Ham. Ladie, shall I lye in your Lap?

Ophe. No my Lord

Ham. I meane, my Head vpon your Lap?

Ophe. I my Lord

Ham. Do you thinke I meant Country matters?   Ophe. I thinke
nothing, my Lord

Ham. That's a faire thought to ly betweene Maids legs   Ophe. What
is my Lord?

Ham. Nothing

Ophe. You are merrie, my Lord?

Ham. Who I?

Ophe. I my Lord

Ham. Oh God, your onely Iigge-maker: what should a man do, but be
merrie. For looke you how cheerefully my Mother lookes, and my Father
dyed within's two Houres

Ophe. Nay, 'tis twice two moneths, my Lord

Ham. So long? Nay then let the Diuel weare blacke, for Ile haue a
suite of Sables. Oh Heauens! dye two moneths ago, and not forgotten
yet? Then there's hope, a great mans Memorie, may out-liue his life
halfe a yeare: But byrlady he must builde Churches then: or else shall
he suffer not thinking on, with the Hoby-horsse, whose Epitaph is, For
o, For o, the Hoby-horse is forgot.

Hoboyes play. The dumbe shew enters.

Enter a King and Queene, very louingly; the Queene embracing him. She

kneeles, and makes shew of Protestation vnto him. He takes her vp, and

declines his head vpon her neck. Layes him downe vpon a Banke of
Flowers.

She seeing him a-sleepe, leaues him. Anon comes in a Fellow, takes off
his

Crowne, kisses it, and powres poyson in the Kings eares, and Exits.
The

Queene returnes, findes the King dead, and makes passionate Action.
The

Poysoner, with some two or three Mutes comes in againe, seeming to
lament

with her. The dead body is carried away: The Poysoner Wooes the Queene
with

Gifts, she seemes loath and vnwilling awhile, but in the end, accepts
his

loue.

Exeunt.

Ophe. What meanes this, my Lord?

Ham. Marry this is Miching Malicho, that meanes Mischeefe

Ophe. Belike this shew imports the Argument of the Play?

Ham. We shall know by these Fellowes: the Players cannot keepe
counsell, they'l tell all

Ophe. Will they tell vs what this shew meant?   Ham. I, or any shew
that you'l shew him. Bee not you asham'd to shew, hee'l not shame to
tell you what it meanes

Ophe. You are naught, you are naught, Ile marke the Play.

Enter Prologue.

For vs, and for our Tragedie,

Heere stooping to your Clemencie:

We begge your hearing Patientlie

Ham. Is this a Prologue, or the Poesie of a Ring?   Ophe. 'Tis
briefe my Lord

Ham. As Womans loue.

Enter King and his Queene.

King. Full thirtie times hath Phoebus Cart gon round, Neptunes salt
Wash, and Tellus Orbed ground: And thirtie dozen Moones with borrowed
sheene, About the World haue times twelue thirties beene, Since loue
our hearts, and Hymen did our hands Vnite comutuall, in most sacred
Bands

Bap. So many iournies may the Sunne and Moone Make vs againe count
o're, ere loue be done. But woe is me, you are so sicke of late,

So farre from cheere, and from your former state, That I distrust you:
yet though I distrust, Discomfort you (my Lord) it nothing must: For
womens Feare and Loue, holds quantitie, In neither ought, or in
extremity:

Now what my loue is, proofe hath made you know, And as my Loue is
siz'd, my Feare is so

King. Faith I must leaue thee Loue, and shortly too: My operant
Powers my Functions leaue to do: And thou shalt liue in this faire
world behinde, Honour'd, belou'd, and haply, one as kinde. For Husband
shalt thou-

Bap. Oh confound the rest:

Such Loue, must needs be Treason in my brest: In second Husband, let me
be accurst,

None wed the second, but who kill'd the first

Ham. Wormwood, Wormwood

Bapt. The instances that second Marriage moue, Are base respects of
Thrift, but none of Loue. A second time, I kill my Husband dead,

When second Husband kisses me in Bed

King. I do beleeue you. Think what now you speak: But what we do
determine, oft we breake:

Purpose is but the slaue to Memorie,

Of violent Birth, but poore validitie:

Which now like Fruite vnripe stickes on the Tree, But fall vnshaken,
when they mellow bee.

Most necessary 'tis, that we forget

To pay our selues, what to our selues is debt: What to our selues in
passion we propose, The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. The
violence of other Greefe or Ioy,

Their owne ennactors with themselues destroy: Where Ioy most Reuels,
Greefe doth most lament; Greefe ioyes, Ioy greeues on slender accident.
This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange That euen our Loues
should with our Fortunes change. For 'tis a question left vs yet to
proue, Whether Loue lead Fortune, or else Fortune Loue. The great man
downe, you marke his fauourites flies, The poore aduanc'd, makes
Friends of Enemies: And hitherto doth Loue on Fortune tend,

For who not needs, shall neuer lacke a Frend: And who in want a hollow
Friend doth try, Directly seasons him his Enemie.

But orderly to end, where I begun,

Our Willes and Fates do so contrary run,

That our Deuices still are ouerthrowne,

Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our owne. So thinke thou wilt
no second Husband wed. But die thy thoughts, when thy first Lord is
dead

Bap. Nor Earth to giue me food, nor Heauen light, Sport and repose
locke from me day and night: Each opposite that blankes the face of
ioy, Meet what I would haue well, and it destroy: Both heere, and
hence, pursue me lasting strife, If once a Widdow, euer I be Wife

Ham. If she should breake it now

King. 'Tis deepely sworne:

Sweet, leaue me heere a while,

My spirits grow dull, and faine I would beguile The tedious day with
sleepe

Qu. Sleepe rocke thy Braine,

Sleepes

And neuer come mischance betweene vs twaine.

Exit

Ham. Madam, how like you this Play?

Qu. The Lady protests to much me thinkes

Ham. Oh but shee'l keepe her word

King. Haue you heard the Argument, is there no Offence in't?

Ham. No, no, they do but iest, poyson in iest, no Offence i'th'
world

King. What do you call the Play?

Ham. The Mouse-trap: Marry how? Tropically: This Play is the Image of
a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is the Dukes name, his wife Baptista:
you shall see anon: 'tis a knauish peece of worke: But what o'that?
Your Maiestie, and wee that haue free soules, it touches vs not: let
the gall'd iade winch: our withers are vnrung. Enter Lucianus.

This is one Lucianus nephew to the King

Ophe. You are a good Chorus, my Lord

Ham. I could interpret betweene you and your loue: if I could see
the Puppets dallying

Ophe. You are keene my Lord, you are keene

Ham. It would cost you a groaning, to take off my edge

Ophe. Still better and worse

Ham. So you mistake Husbands.

Begin Murderer. Pox, leaue thy damnable Faces, and begin. Come, the
croaking Rauen doth bellow for Reuenge

Lucian. Thoughts blacke, hands apt,

Drugges fit, and Time agreeing:

Confederate season, else, no Creature seeing: Thou mixture ranke, of
Midnight Weeds collected, With Hecats Ban, thrice blasted, thrice
infected, Thy naturall Magicke, and dire propertie, On wholsome life,
vsurpe immediately.

Powres the poyson in his eares.

Ham. He poysons him i'th' Garden for's estate: His name's Gonzago:
the Story is extant and writ in choyce Italian. You shall see anon how
the Murtherer gets the loue of Gonzago's wife

Ophe. The King rises

Ham. What, frighted with false fire

Qu. How fares my Lord?

Pol. Giue o're the Play

King. Giue me some Light. Away

All. Lights, Lights, Lights.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet & Horatio.

Ham. Why let the strucken Deere go weepe, The Hart vngalled play:

For some must watch, while some must sleepe; So runnes the world away.

Would not this Sir, and a Forrest of Feathers, if the rest of my
Fortunes turne Turke with me; with two Prouinciall Roses on my rac'd
Shooes, get me a Fellowship in a crie of Players sir

Hor. Halfe a share

Ham. A whole one I,

For thou dost know: Oh Damon deere,

This Realme dismantled was of Ioue himselfe, And now reignes heere.

A verie verie Paiocke

Hora. You might haue Rim'd

Ham. Oh good Horatio, Ile take the Ghosts word for a thousand pound.
Did'st perceiue?

Hora. Verie well my Lord

Ham. Vpon the talke of the poysoning?

Hora. I did verie well note him.

Enter Rosincrance and Guildensterne.

Ham. Oh, ha? Come some Musick. Come y Recorders: For if the King like
not the Comedie,

Why then belike he likes it not perdie.

Come some Musicke

Guild. Good my Lord, vouchsafe me a word with you

Ham. Sir, a whole History

Guild. The King, sir

Ham. I sir, what of him?

Guild. Is in his retyrement, maruellous distemper'd

Ham. With drinke Sir?

Guild. No my Lord, rather with choller

Ham. Your wisedome should shew it selfe more richer, to signifie
this to his Doctor: for for me to put him to his Purgation, would
perhaps plundge him into farre more Choller

Guild. Good my Lord put your discourse into some frame, and start
not so wildely from my affayre

Ham. I am tame Sir, pronounce

Guild. The Queene your Mother, in most great affliction of spirit,
hath sent me to you

Ham. You are welcome

Guild. Nay, good my Lord, this courtesie is not of the right breed.
If it shall please you to make me a wholsome answer, I will doe your
Mothers command'ment: if not, your pardon, and my returne shall bee the
end of my Businesse

Ham. Sir, I cannot

Guild. What, my Lord?

Ham. Make you a wholsome answere: my wits diseas'd. But sir, such
answers as I can make, you shal command: or rather you say, my Mother:
therfore no more but to the matter. My Mother you say

Rosin. Then thus she sayes: your behauior hath stroke her into
amazement, and admiration

Ham. Oh wonderfull Sonne, that can so astonish a Mother. But is
there no sequell at the heeles of this Mothers admiration?

Rosin. She desires to speake with you in her Closset, ere you go to
bed

Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our Mother. Haue you any
further Trade with vs?

Rosin. My Lord, you once did loue me

Ham. So I do still, by these pickers and stealers

Rosin. Good my Lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do freely
barre the doore of your owne Libertie, if you deny your greefes to your
Friend

Ham. Sir I lacke Aduancement

Rosin. How can that be, when you haue the voyce of the King
himselfe, for your Succession in Denmarke?   Ham. I, but while the
grasse growes, the Prouerbe is something musty.

Enter one with a Recorder.

O the Recorder. Let me see, to withdraw with you, why do you go about
to recouer the winde of mee, as if you would driue me into a toyle?

Guild. O my Lord, if my Dutie be too bold, my loue is too vnmannerly

Ham. I do not well vnderstand that. Will you play vpon this Pipe?

Guild. My Lord, I cannot

Ham. I pray you

Guild. Beleeue me, I cannot

Ham. I do beseech you

Guild. I know no touch of it, my Lord

Ham. 'Tis as easie as lying: gouerne these Ventiges with your finger
and thumbe, giue it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most
excellent Musicke. Looke you, these are the stoppes

Guild. But these cannot I command to any vtterance of hermony, I
haue not the skill

Ham. Why looke you now, how vnworthy a thing you make of me: you
would play vpon mee; you would seeme to know my stops: you would pluck
out the heart of my Mysterie; you would sound mee from my lowest Note,
to the top of my Compasse: and there is much Musicke, excellent Voice,
in this little Organe, yet cannot you make it. Why do you thinke, that
I am easier to bee plaid on, then a Pipe? Call me what Instrument you
will, though you can fret me, you cannot play vpon me. God blesse you
Sir.

Enter Polonius.

Polon. My Lord; the Queene would speak with you, and presently

Ham. Do you see that Clowd? that's almost in shape like a Camell

Polon. By'th' Masse, and it's like a Camell indeed

Ham. Me thinkes it is like a Weazell

Polon. It is back'd like a Weazell

Ham. Or like a Whale?

Polon. Verie like a Whale

Ham. Then will I come to my Mother, by and by: They foole me to the
top of my bent.

I will come by and by

Polon. I will say so.

Enter.

Ham. By and by, is easily said. Leaue me Friends: 'Tis now the verie
witching time of night, When Churchyards yawne, and Hell it selfe
breaths out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood, And
do such bitter businesse as the day

Would quake to looke on. Soft now, to my Mother: Oh Heart, loose not
thy Nature; let not euer The Soule of Nero, enter this firme bosome:
Let me be cruell, not vnnaturall,

I will speake Daggers to her, but vse none: My Tongue and Soule in this
be Hypocrites. How in my words someuer she be shent,

To giue them Seales, neuer my Soule consent. Enter King, Rosincrance,
and Guildensterne.

King. I like him not, nor stands it safe with vs, To let his madnesse
range. Therefore prepare you, I your Commission will forthwith
dispatch, And he to England shall along with you:

The termes of our estate, may not endure

Hazard so dangerous as doth hourely grow

Out of his Lunacies

Guild. We will our selues prouide:

Most holie and Religious feare it is

To keepe those many many bodies safe

That liue and feede vpon your Maiestie

Rosin. The single

And peculiar life is bound

With all the strength and Armour of the minde, To keepe it selfe from
noyance: but much more, That Spirit, vpon whose spirit depends and
rests The liues of many, the cease of Maiestie

Dies not alone; but like a Gulfe doth draw What's neere it, with it. It
is a massie wheele Fixt on the Somnet of the highest Mount.

To whose huge Spoakes, ten thousand lesser things Are mortiz'd and
adioyn'd: which when it falles, Each small annexment, pettie
consequence

Attends the boystrous Ruine. Neuer alone

Did the King sighe, but with a generall grone

King. Arme you, I pray you to this speedie Voyage; For we will
Fetters put vpon this feare,

Which now goes too free-footed

Both. We will haste vs.

Exeunt. Gent.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. My Lord, he's going to his Mothers Closset: Behinde the Arras
Ile conuey my selfe

To heare the Processe. Ile warrant shee'l tax him home, And as you
said, and wisely was it said,

'Tis meete that some more audience then a Mother, Since Nature makes
them partiall, should o're-heare The speech of vantage. Fare you well
my Liege, Ile call vpon you ere you go to bed,

And tell you what I know

King. Thankes deere my Lord.

Oh my offence is ranke, it smels to heauen, It hath the primall eldest
curse vpon't,

A Brothers murther. Pray can I not,

Though inclination be as sharpe as will:

My stronger guilt, defeats my strong intent, And like a man to double
businesse bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both
neglect; what if this cursed hand Were thicker then it selfe with
Brothers blood, Is there not Raine enough in the sweet Heauens To wash
it white as Snow? Whereto serues mercy, But to confront the visage of
Offence?

And what's in Prayer, but this two-fold force, To be fore-stalled ere
we come to fall,

Or pardon'd being downe? Then Ile looke vp, My fault is past. But oh,
what forme of Prayer Can serue my turne? Forgiue me my foule Murther:
That cannot be, since I am still possest

Of those effects for which I did the Murther. My Crowne, mine owne
Ambition, and my Queene: May one be pardon'd, and retaine th' offence?
In the corrupted currants of this world,

Offences gilded hand may shoue by Iustice, And oft 'tis seene, the
wicked prize it selfe Buyes out the Law; but 'tis not so aboue, There
is no shuffling, there the Action lyes In his true Nature, and we our
selues compell'd Euen to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To giue
in euidence. What then? What rests? Try what Repentance can. What can
it not? Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?

Oh wretched state! Oh bosome, blacke as death! Oh limed soule, that
strugling to be free, Art more ingag'd: Helpe Angels, make assay: Bow
stubborne knees, and heart with strings of Steele, Be soft as sinewes
of the new-borne Babe, All may be well.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying, And now Ile doo't, and
so he goes to Heauen, And so am I reueng'd: that would be scann'd, A
Villaine killes my Father, and for that I his foule Sonne, do this same
Villaine send To heauen. Oh this is hyre and Sallery, not Reuenge. He
tooke my Father grossely, full of bread, With all his Crimes broad
blowne, as fresh as May, And how his Audit stands, who knowes, saue
Heauen: But in our circumstance and course of thought 'Tis heauie with
him: and am I then reueng'd, To take him in the purging of his Soule,

When he is fit and season'd for his passage? No. Vp Sword, and know
thou a more horrid hent When he is drunke asleepe: or in his Rage, Or
in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed, At gaming, swearing, or about
some acte

That ha's no rellish of Saluation in't,

Then trip him, that his heeles may kicke at Heauen, And that his Soule
may be as damn'd and blacke As Hell, whereto it goes. My Mother stayes,
This Physicke but prolongs thy sickly dayes. Enter.

King. My words flye vp, my thoughts remain below, Words without
thoughts, neuer to Heauen go. Enter.

Enter Queene and Polonius.

Pol. He will come straight:

Looke you lay home to him,

Tell him his prankes haue been too broad to beare with, And that your
Grace hath screen'd, and stoode betweene Much heate, and him. Ile
silence me e'ene heere: Pray you be round with him

Ham. within. Mother, mother, mother

Qu. Ile warrant you, feare me not.

Withdraw, I heare him coming.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now Mother, what's the matter?

Qu. Hamlet, thou hast thy Father much offended

Ham. Mother, you haue my Father much offended

Qu. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue

Ham. Go, go, you question with an idle tongue

Qu. Why how now Hamlet?

Ham. Whats the matter now?

Qu. Haue you forgot me?

Ham. No by the Rood, not so:

You are the Queene, your Husbands Brothers wife, But would you were not
so. You are my Mother

Qu. Nay, then Ile set those to you that can speake

Ham. Come, come, and sit you downe, you shall not boudge:

You go not till I set you vp a glasse,

Where you may see the inmost part of you?   Qu. What wilt thou do? thou
wilt not murther me? Helpe, helpe, hoa

Pol. What hoa, helpe, helpe, helpe

Ham. How now, a Rat? dead for a Ducate, dead

Pol. Oh I am slaine.

Killes Polonius

Qu. Oh me, what hast thou done?

Ham. Nay I know not, is it the King?

Qu. Oh what a rash, and bloody deed is this?   Ham. A bloody deed,
almost as bad good Mother, As kill a King, and marrie with his Brother

Qu. As kill a King?

Ham. I Lady, 'twas my word.

Thou wretched, rash, intruding foole farewell, I tooke thee for thy
Betters, take thy Fortune, Thou find'st to be too busie, is some
danger. Leaue wringing of your hands, peace, sit you downe, And let me
wring your heart, for so I shall If it be made of penetrable stuffe;

If damned Custome haue not braz'd it so,

That it is proofe and bulwarke against Sense

Qu. What haue I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tong, In noise so
rude against me?

Ham. Such an Act

That blurres the grace and blush of Modestie, Cals Vertue Hypocrite,
takes off the Rose From the faire forehead of an innocent loue, And
makes a blister there. Makes marriage vowes As false as Dicers Oathes.
Oh such a deed, As from the body of Contraction pluckes

The very soule, and sweete Religion makes A rapsidie of words. Heauens
face doth glow, Yea this solidity and compound masse,

With tristfull visage as against the doome, Is thought-sicke at the
act

Qu. Aye me; what act, that roares so lowd, & thunders in the Index

Ham. Looke heere vpon this Picture, and on this, The counterfet
presentment of two Brothers: See what a grace was seated on his Brow,

Hyperions curles, the front of Ioue himselfe, An eye like Mars, to
threaten or command

A Station, like the Herald Mercurie

New lighted on a heauen-kissing hill:

A Combination, and a forme indeed,

Where euery God did seeme to set his Seale, To giue the world assurance
of a man.

This was your Husband. Looke you now what followes. Heere is your
Husband, like a Mildew'd eare Blasting his wholsom breath. Haue you
eyes? Could you on this faire Mountaine leaue to feed, And batten on
this Moore? Ha? Haue you eyes? You cannot call it Loue: For at your
age, The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waites vpon the
Iudgement: and what Iudgement Would step from this, to this? What
diuell was't, That thus hath cousend you at hoodman-blinde? O Shame!
where is thy Blush? Rebellious Hell, If thou canst mutine in a Matrons
bones,

To flaming youth, let Vertue be as waxe.

And melt in her owne fire. Proclaime no shame, When the compulsiue
Ardure giues the charge, Since Frost it selfe, as actiuely doth burne,
As Reason panders Will

Qu. O Hamlet, speake no more.

Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soule, And there I see such blacke
and grained spots, As will not leaue their Tinct

Ham. Nay, but to liue

In the ranke sweat of an enseamed bed,

Stew'd in Corruption; honying and making loue Ouer the nasty Stye

Qu. Oh speake to me, no more,

These words like Daggers enter in mine eares. No more sweet Hamlet

Ham. A Murderer, and a Villaine:

A Slaue, that is not twentieth part the tythe Of your precedent Lord. A
vice of Kings,

A Cutpurse of the Empire and the Rule.

That from a shelfe, the precious Diadem stole, And put it in his
Pocket

Qu. No more.

Enter Ghost.

Ham. A King of shreds and patches.

Saue me; and houer o're me with your wings You heauenly Guards. What
would your gracious figure?   Qu. Alas he's mad

Ham. Do you not come your tardy Sonne to chide, That laps't in Time
and Passion, lets go by Th' important acting of your dread command? Oh
say

Ghost. Do not forget: this Visitation

Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. But looke, Amazement on thy
Mother sits;

O step betweene her, and her fighting Soule, Conceit in weakest bodies,
strongest workes. Speake to her Hamlet

Ham. How is it with you Lady?

Qu. Alas, how is't with you?

That you bend your eye on vacancie,

And with their corporall ayre do hold discourse. Forth at your eyes,
your spirits wildely peepe, And as the sleeping Soldiours in th'
Alarme, Your bedded haire, like life in excrements, Start vp, and stand
an end. Oh gentle Sonne, Vpon the heate and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle coole patience. Whereon do you looke?   Ham. On him, on him:
look you how pale he glares, His forme and cause conioyn'd, preaching
to stones, Would make them capeable. Do not looke vpon me, Least with
this pitteous action you conuert My sterne effects: then what I haue to
do, Will want true colour; teares perchance for blood

Qu. To who do you speake this?

Ham. Do you see nothing there?

Qu. Nothing at all, yet all that is I see

Ham. Nor did you nothing heare?

Qu. No, nothing but our selues

Ham. Why look you there: looke how it steals away: My Father in his
habite, as he liued,

Looke where he goes euen now out at the Portall. Enter.

Qu. This is the very coynage of your Braine, This bodilesse Creation
extasie is very cunning in

Ham. Extasie?

My Pulse as yours doth temperately keepe time, And makes as healthfull
Musicke. It is not madnesse That I haue vttered; bring me to the Test
And I the matter will re-word: which madnesse Would gamboll from.
Mother, for loue of Grace, Lay not a flattering Vnction to your soule,
That not your trespasse, but my madnesse speakes: It will but skin and
filme the Vlcerous place, Whil'st ranke Corruption mining all within,
Infects vnseene. Confesse your selfe to Heauen, Repent what's past,
auoyd what is to come, And do not spred the Compost on the Weedes, To
make them ranke. Forgiue me this my Vertue, For in the fatnesse of this
pursie times, Vertue it selfe, of Vice must pardon begge, Yea courb,
and woe, for leaue to do him good

Qu. Oh Hamlet,

Thou hast cleft my heart in twaine

Ham. O throw away the worser part of it, And liue the purer with the
other halfe.

Good night, but go not to mine Vnkles bed, Assume a Vertue, if you haue
it not, refraine to night, And that shall lend a kinde of easinesse

To the next abstinence. Once more goodnight, And when you are desirous
to be blest,

Ile blessing begge of you. For this same Lord, I do repent: but heauen
hath pleas'd 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 gaue him: so againe, good night. I must be cruell, onely to
be kinde;

Thus bad begins and worse remaines behinde

Qu. What shall I do?

Ham. Not this by no meanes that I bid you do: Let the blunt King
tempt you againe to bed, Pinch Wanton on your cheeke, call you his
Mouse, And let him for a paire of reechie kisses, Or padling in your
necke with his damn'd Fingers, Make you to rauell all this matter out,

That I essentially am not in madnesse,

But made in craft. 'Twere good you let him know, For who that's but a
Queene, faire, sober, wise, Would from a Paddocke, from a Bat, a Gibbe,
Such deere concernings hide, Who would do so, No in despight of Sense
and Secrecie,

Vnpegge the Basket on the houses top:

Let the Birds flye, and like the famous Ape To try Conclusions in the
Basket, creepe

And breake your owne necke downe

Qu. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath, And breath of life:
I haue no life to breath What thou hast saide to me

Ham. I must to England, you know that?   Qu. Alacke I had forgot:
'Tis so concluded on

Ham. This man shall set me packing:

Ile lugge the Guts into the Neighbor roome, Mother goodnight. Indeede
this Counsellor Is now most still, most secret, and most graue, Who was
in life, a foolish prating Knaue. Come sir, to draw toward an end with
you. Good night Mother.

Exit Hamlet tugging in Polonius.

Enter King.

King. There's matters in these sighes.

These profound heaues

You must translate; Tis fit we vnderstand them. Where is your Sonne?

Qu. Ah my good Lord, what haue I seene to night?   King. What
Gertrude? How do's Hamlet?

Qu. Mad as the Seas, and winde, when both contend Which is the
Mightier, in his lawlesse fit Behinde the Arras, hearing something
stirre, He whips his Rapier out, and cries a Rat, a Rat, And in his
brainish apprehension killes

The vnseene good old man

King. Oh heauy deed:

It had bin so with vs had we beene there: His Liberty is full of
threats to all,

To you your selfe, to vs, to euery one.

Alas, how shall this bloody deede be answered? It will be laide to vs,
whose prouidence

Should haue kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt, This mad yong
man. But so much was our loue, We would not vnderstand what was most
fit, But like the Owner of a foule disease,

To keepe it from divulging, let's it feede Euen on the pith of life.
Where is he gone?   Qu. To draw apart the body he hath kild, O're whom
his very madnesse like some Oare Among a Minerall of Mettels base

Shewes it selfe pure. He weepes for what is done

King. Oh Gertrude, come away:

The Sun no sooner shall the Mountaines touch, But we will ship him
hence, and this vilde deed, We must with all our Maiesty and Skill

Both countenance, and excuse.

Enter Ros. & Guild.

Ho Guildenstern:

Friends both go ioyne you with some further ayde: Hamlet in madnesse
hath Polonius slaine,

And from his Mother Clossets hath he drag'd him. Go seeke him out,
speake faire, and bring the body Into the Chappell. I pray you hast in
this. Exit Gent.

Come Gertrude, wee'l call vp our wisest friends, To let them know both
what we meane to do, And what's vntimely done. Oh come away,

My soule is full of discord and dismay.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Safely stowed

Gentlemen within. Hamlet, Lord Hamlet

Ham. What noise? Who cals on Hamlet?

Oh heere they come.

Enter Ros. and Guildensterne.

Ro. What haue you done my Lord with the dead body?   Ham. Compounded
it with dust, whereto 'tis Kinne

Rosin. Tell vs where 'tis, that we may take it thence, And beare it
to the Chappell

Ham. Do not beleeue it

Rosin. Beleeue what?

Ham. That I can keepe your counsell, and not mine owne. Besides, to
be demanded of a Spundge, what replication should be made by the Sonne
of a King

Rosin. Take you me for a Spundge, my Lord?   Ham. I sir, that sokes
vp the Kings Countenance, his Rewards, his Authorities (but such
Officers do the King best seruice in the end. He keepes them like an
Ape in the corner of his iaw, first mouth'd to be last swallowed, when
he needes what you haue glean'd, it is but squeezing you, and Spundge
you shall be dry againe

Rosin. I vnderstand you not my Lord

Ham. I am glad of it: a knauish speech sleepes in a foolish eare

Rosin. My Lord, you must tell vs where the body is, and go with vs
to the King

Ham. The body is with the King, but the King is not with the body.
The King, is a thing-

Guild. A thing my Lord?

Ham. Of nothing: bring me to him, hide Fox, and all after.

Exeunt.

Enter King.

King. I haue sent to seeke him, and to find the bodie: How dangerous
is it that this man goes loose: Yet must not we put the strong Law on
him: Hee's loued of the distracted multitude,

Who like not in their iudgement, but their eyes: And where 'tis so, th'
Offenders scourge is weigh'd But neerer the offence: to beare all
smooth, and euen, This sodaine sending him away, must seeme Deliberate
pause, diseases desperate growne, By desperate appliance are releeued,

Or not at all.

Enter Rosincrane.

How now? What hath befalne?

Rosin. Where the dead body is bestow'd my Lord, We cannot get from
him

King. But where is he?

Rosin. Without my Lord, guarded to know your pleasure

King. Bring him before vs

Rosin. Hoa, Guildensterne? Bring in my Lord. Enter Hamlet and
Guildensterne.

King. Now Hamlet, where's Polonius?

Ham. At Supper

King. At Supper? Where?

Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten, a certaine conuocation
of wormes are e'ne at him. Your worm is your onely Emperor for diet. We
fat all creatures else to fat vs, and we fat our selfe for Magots. Your
fat King, and your leane Begger is but variable seruice to dishes, but
to one Table that's the end

King. What dost thou meane by this?

Ham. Nothing but to shew you how a King may go a Progresse through
the guts of a Begger

King. Where is Polonius

Ham. In heauen, send thither to see. If your Messenger finde him not
there, seeke him i'th other place your selfe: but indeed, if you finde
him not this moneth, you shall nose him as you go vp the staires into
the Lobby

King. Go seeke him there

Ham. He will stay till ye come

K. Hamlet, this deed of thine, for thine especial safety Which we do
tender, as we deerely greeue

For that which thou hast done, must send thee hence With fierie
Quicknesse. Therefore prepare thy selfe, The Barke is readie, and the
winde at helpe, Th' Associates tend, and euery thing at bent For
England

Ham. For England?

King. I Hamlet

Ham. Good

King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes

Ham. I see a Cherube that see's him: but come, for England. Farewell
deere Mother

King. Thy louing Father Hamlet

Hamlet. My Mother: Father and Mother is man and wife: man & wife is
one flesh, and so my mother. Come, for England.

Exit

King. Follow him at foote,

Tempt him with speed aboord:

Delay it not, Ile haue him hence to night. Away, for euery thing is
Seal'd and done

That else leanes on th' Affaire, pray you make hast. And England, if my
loue thou holdst at ought, As my great power thereof may giue thee
sense, Since yet thy Cicatrice lookes raw and red After the Danish
Sword, and thy free awe

Payes homage to vs; thou maist not coldly set Our Soueraigne Processe,
which imports at full By Letters coniuring to that effect

The present death of Hamlet. Do it England, For like the Hecticke in my
blood he rages, And thou must cure me: Till I know 'tis done, How ere
my happes, my ioyes were ne're begun.

Exit

Enter Fortinbras with an Armie.

For. Go Captaine, from me greet the Danish King, Tell him that by his
license, Fortinbras

Claimes the conueyance of a promis'd March Ouer his Kingdome. You know
the Rendeuous: If that his Maiesty would ought with vs,

We shall expresse our dutie in his eye,

And let him know so

Cap. I will doo't, my Lord

For. Go safely on.

Enter.

Enter Queene and Horatio.

Qu. I will not speake with her

Hor. She is importunate, indeed distract, her moode will needs be
pittied

Qu. What would she haue?

Hor. She speakes much of her Father; saies she heares There's trickes
i'th' world, and hems, and beats her heart, Spurnes enuiously at
Strawes, speakes things in doubt, That carry but halfe sense: Her
speech is nothing, Yet the vnshaped vse of it doth moue

The hearers to Collection; they ayme at it, And botch the words vp fit
to their owne thoughts, Which as her winkes, and nods, and gestures
yeeld them, Indeed would make one thinke there would be thought, Though
nothing sure, yet much vnhappily

Qu. 'Twere good she were spoken with,

For she may strew dangerous coniectures

In ill breeding minds. Let her come in.

To my sicke soule (as sinnes true Nature is) Each toy seemes Prologue,
to some great amisse, So full of Artlesse iealousie is guilt,

It spill's it selfe, in fearing to be spilt. Enter Ophelia distracted.

Ophe. Where is the beauteous Maiesty of Denmark

Qu. How now Ophelia?

Ophe. How should I your true loue know from another one? By his
Cockle hat and staffe, and his Sandal shoone

Qu. Alas sweet Lady: what imports this Song?   Ophe. Say you? Nay
pray you marke.

He is dead and gone Lady, he is dead and gone, At his head a
grasse-greene Turfe, at his heeles a stone. Enter King.

Qu. Nay but Ophelia

Ophe. Pray you marke.

White his Shrow'd as the Mountaine Snow

Qu. Alas, looke heere my Lord

Ophe. Larded with sweet Flowers:

Which bewept to the graue did not go,

With true-loue showres

King. How do ye, pretty Lady?

Ophe. Well, God dil'd you. They say the Owle was a Bakers daughter.
Lord, wee know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your
Table

King. Conceit vpon her Father

Ophe. Pray you let's haue no words of this: but when they aske you
what it meanes, say you this: To morrow is S[aint]. Valentines day, all
in the morning betime, And I a Maid at your Window, to be your
Valentine. Then vp he rose, & don'd his clothes, & dupt the chamber
dore, Let in the Maid, that out a Maid, neuer departed more

King. Pretty Ophelia

Ophe. Indeed la? without an oath Ile make an end ont. By gis, and by
S[aint]. Charity,

Alacke, and fie for shame:

Yong men wil doo't, if they come too't,

By Cocke they are too blame.

Quoth she before you tumbled me,

You promis'd me to Wed:

So would I ha done by yonder Sunne,

And thou hadst not come to my bed

King. How long hath she bin thus?

Ophe. I hope all will be well. We must bee patient, but I cannot
choose but weepe, to thinke they should lay him i'th' cold ground: My
brother shall knowe of it, and so I thanke you for your good counsell.
Come, my Coach: Goodnight Ladies: Goodnight sweet Ladies: Goodnight,
goodnight.

Enter.

King. Follow her close,

Giue her good watch I pray you:

Oh this is the poyson of deepe greefe, it springs All from her Fathers
death. Oh Gertrude, Gertrude, When sorrowes comes, they come not single
spies, But in Battalians. First, her Father slaine, Next your Sonne
gone, and he most violent Author Of his owne iust remoue: the people
muddied, Thicke and vnwholsome in their thoughts, and whispers For good
Polonius death; and we haue done but greenly In hugger mugger to
interre him. Poore Ophelia Diuided from her selfe, and her faire
Iudgement, Without the which we are Pictures, or meere Beasts. Last,
and as much containing as all these, Her Brother is in secret come from
France, Keepes on his wonder, keepes himselfe in clouds, And wants not
Buzzers to infect his eare

With pestilent Speeches of his Fathers death, Where in necessitie of
matter Beggard,

Will nothing sticke our persons to Arraigne In eare and eare. O my
deere Gertrude, this, Like to a murdering Peece in many places, Giues
me superfluous death.

A Noise within.

Enter a Messenger.

Qu. Alacke, what noyse is this?

King. Where are my Switzers?

Let them guard the doore. What is the matter?   Mes. Saue your selfe,
my Lord.

The Ocean (ouer-peering of his List)

Eates not the Flats with more impittious haste Then young Laertes, in a
Riotous head,

Ore-beares your Officers, the rabble call him Lord, And as the world
were now but to begin,

Antiquity forgot, Custome not knowne,

The Ratifiers and props of euery word,

They cry choose we? Laertes shall be King, Caps, hands, and tongues,
applaud it to the clouds, Laertes shall be King, Laertes King

Qu. How cheerefully on the false Traile they cry, Oh this is Counter
you false Danish Dogges.

Noise within. Enter Laertes.

King. The doores are broke

Laer. Where is the King, sirs? Stand you all without

All. No, let's come in

Laer. I pray you giue me leaue

Al. We will, we will

Laer. I thanke you: Keepe the doore.

Oh thou vilde King, giue me my Father

Qu. Calmely good Laertes

Laer. That drop of blood, that calmes

Proclaimes me Bastard:

Cries Cuckold to my Father, brands the Harlot Euen heere betweene the
chaste vnsmirched brow Of my true Mother

King. What is the cause Laertes,

That thy Rebellion lookes so Gyant-like?

Let him go Gertrude: Do not feare our person: There's such Diuinity
doth hedge a King,

That Treason can but peepe to what it would, Acts little of his will.
Tell me Laertes, Why thou art thus Incenst? Let him go Gertrude. Speake
man

Laer. Where's my Father?

King. Dead

Qu. But not by him

King. Let him demand his fill

Laer. How came he dead? Ile not be Iuggel'd with. To hell
Allegeance: Vowes, to the blackest diuell. Conscience and Grace, to the
profoundest Pit. I dare Damnation: to this point I stand,

That both the worlds I giue to negligence, Let come what comes: onely
Ile be reueng'd Most throughly for my Father

King. Who shall stay you?

Laer. My Will, not all the world,

And for my meanes, Ile husband them so well, They shall go farre with
little

King. Good Laertes:

If you desire to know the certaintie

Of your deere Fathers death, if writ in your reuenge, That Soop-stake
you will draw both Friend and Foe, Winner and Looser

Laer. None but his Enemies

King. Will you know them then

La. To his good Friends, thus wide Ile ope my Armes: And like the
kinde Life-rend'ring Politician, Repast them with my blood

King. Why now you speake

Like a good Childe, and a true Gentleman. That I am guiltlesse of your
Fathers death, And am most sensible in greefe for it,

It shall as leuell to your Iudgement pierce As day do's to your eye.

A noise within. Let her come in.

Enter Ophelia.

Laer. How now? what noise is that?

Oh heate drie vp my Braines, teares seuen times salt, Burne out the
Sence and Vertue of mine eye. By Heauen, thy madnesse shall be payed by
waight, Till our Scale turnes the beame. Oh Rose of May, Deere Maid,
kinde Sister, sweet Ophelia:

Oh Heauens, is't possible, a yong Maids wits, Should be as mortall as
an old mans life? Nature is fine in Loue, and where 'tis fine, It sends
some precious instance of it selfe After the thing it loues

Ophe. They bore him bare fac'd on the Beer, Hey non nony, nony, hey
nony:

And on his graue raines many a teare,

Fare you well my Doue

Laer. Had'st thou thy wits, and did'st perswade Reuenge, it could
not moue thus

Ophe. You must sing downe a-downe, and you call him a-downe-a. Oh,
how the wheele becomes it? It is the false Steward that stole his
masters daughter

Laer. This nothings more then matter

Ophe. There's Rosemary, that's for Remembraunce. Pray loue remember:
and there is Paconcies, that's for Thoughts

Laer. A document in madnesse, thoughts & remembrance fitted

Ophe. There's Fennell for you, and Columbines: ther's Rew for you,
and heere's some for me. Wee may call it Herbe-Grace a Sundaies: Oh you
must weare your Rew with a difference. There's a Daysie, I would giue
you some Violets, but they wither'd all when my Father dyed: They say,
he made a good end;

For bonny sweet Robin is all my ioy

Laer. Thought, and Affliction, Passion, Hell it selfe: She turnes to
Fauour, and to prettinesse

Ophe. And will he not come againe,

And will he not come againe:

No, no, he is dead, go to thy Death-bed,

He neuer wil come againe.

His Beard as white as Snow,

All Flaxen was his Pole:

He is gone, he is gone, and we cast away mone, Gramercy on his Soule.

And of all Christian Soules, I pray God.

God buy ye.

Exeunt. Ophelia

Laer. Do you see this, you Gods?

King. Laertes, I must common with your greefe, Or you deny me right:
go but apart,

Make choice of whom your wisest Friends you will, And they shall heare
and iudge 'twixt you and me; If by direct or by Colaterall hand

They finde vs touch'd, we will our Kingdome giue, Our Crowne, our Life,
and all that we call Ours To you in satisfaction. But if not,

Be you content to lend your patience to vs, And we shall ioyntly labour
with your soule To giue it due content

Laer. Let this be so:

His meanes of death, his obscure buriall; No Trophee, Sword, nor
Hatchment o're his bones, No Noble rite, nor formall ostentation,

Cry to be heard, as 'twere from Heauen to Earth, That I must call in
question

King. So you shall:

And where th' offence is, let the great Axe fall. I pray you go with
me.

Exeunt.

Enter Horatio, with an Attendant.

Hora. What are they that would speake with me?   Ser. Saylors sir,
they say they haue Letters for you

Hor. Let them come in,

I do not know from what part of the world I should be greeted, if not
from Lord Hamlet. Enter Saylor.

Say. God blesse you Sir

Hor. Let him blesse thee too

Say. Hee shall Sir, and't please him. There's a Letter for you Sir:
It comes from th' Ambassadours that was bound for England, if your name
be Horatio, as I am let to know it is.

Reads the Letter.

Horatio, When thou shalt haue ouerlook'd this, giue these Fellowes some
meanes to the King: They haue Letters for him. Ere we were two dayes
old at Sea, a Pyrate of very Warlicke appointment gaue vs Chace.
Finding our selues too slow of Saile, we put on a compelled Valour. In
the Grapple, I boorded them: On the instant they got cleare of our
Shippe, so I alone became their Prisoner. They haue dealt with mee,
like Theeues of Mercy, but they knew what they did. I am to doe a good
turne for them. Let the King haue the Letters I haue sent, and repaire
thou to me with as much hast as thou wouldest flye death. I haue words
to speake in your eare, will make thee dumbe, yet are they much too
light for the bore of the Matter. These good Fellowes will bring thee
where I am. Rosincrance and Guildensterne, hold their course for
England. Of them I haue much to tell thee, Farewell.

He that thou knowest thine,

Hamlet.

Come, I will giue you way for these your Letters, And do't the
speedier, that you may direct me To him from whom you brought them.

Enter.

Enter King and Laertes.

King. Now must your conscience my acquittance seal, And you must put
me in your heart for Friend, Sith you haue heard, and with a knowing
eare, That he which hath your Noble Father slaine, Pursued my life

Laer. It well appeares. But tell me,

Why you proceeded not against these feates, So crimefull, and so
Capitall in Nature,

As by your Safety, Wisedome, all things else, You mainly were stirr'd
vp?

King. O for two speciall Reasons,

Which may to you (perhaps) seeme much vnsinnowed, And yet to me they
are strong. The Queen his Mother, Liues almost by his lookes: and for
my selfe, My Vertue or my Plague, be it either which, She's so
coniunctiue to my life, and soule; That as the Starre moues not but in
his Sphere, I could not but by her. The other Motiue, Why to a publike
count I might not go,

Is the great loue the generall gender beare him, Who dipping all his
Faults in their affection, Would like the Spring that turneth Wood to
Stone, Conuert his Gyues to Graces. So that my Arrowes Too slightly
timbred for so loud a Winde, Would haue reuerted to my Bow againe,

And not where I had arm'd them

Laer. And so haue I a Noble Father lost, A Sister driuen into
desperate tearmes,

Who was (if praises may go backe againe)

Stood Challenger on mount of all the Age

For her perfections. But my reuenge will come

King. Breake not your sleepes for that, You must not thinke

That we are made of stuffe, so flat, and dull, That we can let our
Beard be shooke with danger, And thinke it pastime. You shortly shall
heare more, I lou'd your Father, and we loue our Selfe, And that I hope
will teach you to imagine- Enter a Messenger.

How now? What Newes?

Mes. Letters my Lord from Hamlet, This to your Maiesty: this to the
Queene

King. From Hamlet? Who brought them?

Mes. Saylors my Lord they say, I saw them not: They were giuen me by
Claudio, he receiu'd them

King. Laertes you shall heare them:

Leaue vs.

Exit Messenger

High and Mighty, you shall know I am set naked on your Kingdome. To
morrow shall I begge leaue to see your Kingly Eyes. When I shall (first
asking your Pardon thereunto) recount th' Occasions of my sodaine, and
more strange returne. Hamlet.

What should this meane? Are all the rest come backe? Or is it some
abuse? Or no such thing?

Laer. Know you the hand?

Kin. 'Tis Hamlets Character, naked and in a Postscript here he sayes
alone: Can you aduise me?

Laer. I'm lost in it my Lord; but let him come, It warmes the very
sicknesse in my heart, That I shall liue and tell him to his teeth;
Thus diddest thou

Kin. If it be so Laertes, as how should it be so: How otherwise will
you be rul'd by me?

Laer. If so you'l not o'rerule me to a peace

Kin. To thine owne peace: if he be now return'd, As checking at his
Voyage, and that he meanes No more to vndertake it; I will worke him To
an exployt now ripe in my Deuice,

Vnder the which he shall not choose but fall; And for his death no
winde of blame shall breath, But euen his Mother shall vncharge the
practice, And call it accident: Some two Monthes hence Here was a
Gentleman of Normandy,

I'ue seene my selfe, and seru'd against the French, And they ran well
on Horsebacke; but this Gallant Had witchcraft in't; he grew into his
Seat, And to such wondrous doing brought his Horse, As had he beene
encorps't and demy-Natur'd With the braue Beast, so farre he past my
thought, That I in forgery of shapes and trickes,

Come short of what he did

Laer. A Norman was't?

Kin. A Norman

Laer. Vpon my life Lamound

Kin. The very same

Laer. I know him well, he is the Brooch indeed, And Iemme of all our
Nation

Kin. Hee mad confession of you,

And gaue you such a Masterly report,

For Art and exercise in your defence;

And for your Rapier most especiall,

That he cryed out, t'would be a sight indeed, If one could match you
Sir. This report of his Did Hamlet so envenom with his Enuy,

That he could nothing doe but wish and begge, Your sodaine comming ore
to play with him; Now out of this

Laer. Why out of this, my Lord?

Kin. Laertes was your Father deare to you? Or are you like the
painting of a sorrow, A face without a heart?

Laer. Why aske you this?

Kin. Not that I thinke you did not loue your Father, But that I know
Loue is begun by Time:

And that I see in passages of proofe,

Time qualifies the sparke and fire of it: Hamlet comes backe: what
would you vndertake, To show your selfe your Fathers sonne indeed, More
then in words?

Laer. To cut his throat i'th' Church

Kin. No place indeed should murder Sancturize; Reuenge should haue
no bounds: but good Laertes Will you doe this, keepe close within your
Chamber, Hamlet return'd, shall know you are come home: Wee'l put on
those shall praise your excellence, And set a double varnish on the
fame

The Frenchman gaue you, bring you in fine together, And wager on your
heads, he being remisse, Most generous, and free from all contriuing,
Will not peruse the Foiles? So that with ease, Or with a little
shuffling, you may choose A Sword vnbaited, and in a passe of practice,
Requit him for your Father

Laer. I will doo't.

And for that purpose Ile annoint my Sword: I bought an Vnction of a
Mountebanke

So mortall, I but dipt a knife in it,

Where it drawes blood, no Cataplasme so rare, Collected from all
Simples that haue Vertue Vnder the Moone, can saue the thing from
death, That is but scratcht withall: Ile touch my point, With this
contagion, that if I gall him slightly, It may be death

Kin. Let's further thinke of this,

Weigh what conuenience both of time and meanes May fit vs to our shape,
if this should faile; And that our drift looke through our bad
performance, 'Twere better not assaid; therefore this Proiect Should
haue a backe or second, that might hold, If this should blast in
proofe: Soft, let me see Wee'l make a solemne wager on your commings, I
ha't: when in your motion you are hot and dry, As make your bowts more
violent to the end, And that he cals for drinke; Ile haue prepar'd him
A Challice for the nonce; whereon but sipping, If he by chance escape
your venom'd stuck, Our purpose may hold there; how sweet Queene. Enter
Queene.

Queen. One woe doth tread vpon anothers heele, So fast they'l follow:
your Sister's drown'd Laertes

Laer. Drown'd! O where?

Queen. There is a Willow growes aslant a Brooke, That shewes his hore
leaues in the glassie streame: There with fantasticke Garlands did she
come, Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daysies, and long Purples, That
liberall Shepheards giue a grosser name; But our cold Maids doe Dead
Mens Fingers call them: There on the pendant boughes, her Coronet weeds
Clambring to hang; an enuious sliuer broke, When downe the weedy
Trophies, and her selfe, Fell in the weeping Brooke, her cloathes spred
wide, And Mermaid-like, a while they bore her vp, Which time she
chaunted snatches of old tunes, As one incapable of her owne
distresse,

Or like a creature Natiue, and indued

Vnto that Element: but long it could not be, Till that her garments,
heauy with her drinke, Pul'd the poore wretch from her melodious buy,
To muddy death

Laer. Alas then, is she drown'd?

Queen. Drown'd, drown'd

Laer. Too much of water hast thou poore Ophelia, And therefore I
forbid my teares: but yet It is our tricke, Nature her custome holds,
Let shame say what it will; when these are gone The woman will be out:
Adue my Lord,

I haue a speech of fire, that faine would blaze, But that this folly
doubts it.

Enter.

Kin. Let's follow, Gertrude:

How much I had to doe to calme his rage?

Now feare I this will giue it start againe; Therefore let's follow.

Exeunt.

Enter two Clownes.

Clown. Is she to bee buried in Christian buriall, that wilfully
seekes her owne saluation?

Other. I tell thee she is, and therefore make her Graue straight, the
Crowner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian buriall

Clo. How can that be, vnlesse she drowned her selfe in her owne
defence?

Other. Why 'tis found so

Clo. It must be Se offendendo, it cannot bee else: for heere lies
the point; If I drowne my selfe wittingly, it argues an Act: and an Act
hath three branches. It is an Act to doe and to performe; argall she
drown'd her selfe wittingly

Other. Nay but heare you Goodman Deluer

Clown. Giue me leaue; heere lies the water; good: heere stands the
man; good: If the man goe to this water and drowne himselfe; it is will
he nill he, he goes; marke you that? But if the water come to him &
drowne him; hee drownes not himselfe. Argall, hee that is not guilty of
his owne death, shortens not his owne life

Other. But is this law?

Clo. I marry is't, Crowners Quest Law

Other. Will you ha the truth on't: if this had not beene a
Gentlewoman, shee should haue beene buried out of Christian Buriall

Clo. Why there thou say'st. And the more pitty that great folke
should haue countenance in this world to drowne or hang themselues,
more then their euen Christian. Come, my Spade; there is no ancient
Gentlemen, but Gardiners, Ditchers and Graue-makers; they hold vp Adams
Profession

Other. Was he a Gentleman?

Clo. He was the first that euer bore Armes

Other. Why he had none

Clo. What, ar't a Heathen? how doth thou vnderstand the Scripture?
the Scripture sayes Adam dig'd; could hee digge without Armes? Ile put
another question to thee; if thou answerest me not to the purpose,
confesse thy selfe-

Other. Go too

Clo. What is he that builds stronger then either the Mason, the
Shipwright, or the Carpenter?

Other. The Gallowes maker; for that Frame outliues a thousand
Tenants

Clo. I like thy wit well in good faith, the Gallowes does well; but
how does it well? it does well to those that doe ill: now, thou dost
ill to say the Gallowes is built stronger then the Church: Argall, the
Gallowes may doe well to thee. Too't againe, Come

Other. Who builds stronger then a Mason, a Shipwright, or a
Carpenter?

Clo. I, tell me that, and vnyoake

Other. Marry, now I can tell

Clo. Too't

Other. Masse, I cannot tell.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio a farre off.

Clo. Cudgell thy braines no more about it; for your dull Asse will
not mend his pace with beating; and when you are ask't this question
next, say a Graue-maker: the Houses that he makes, lasts till
Doomesday: go, get thee to Yaughan, fetch me a stoupe of Liquor.

Sings.

In youth when I did loue, did loue,

me thought it was very sweete:

To contract O the time for a my behoue,

O me thought there was nothing meete

Ham. Ha's this fellow no feeling of his businesse, that he sings at
Graue-making?

Hor. Custome hath made it in him a property of easinesse

Ham. 'Tis ee'n so; the hand of little Imployment hath the daintier
sense

Clowne sings. But Age with his stealing steps hath caught me in his
clutch:

And hath shipped me intill the Land,

as if I had neuer beene such

Ham. That Scull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: how the
knaue iowles it to th' grownd, as if it were Caines Iaw-bone, that did
the first murther: It might be the Pate of a Polititian which this Asse
o're Offices: one that could circumuent God, might it not?   Hor. It
might, my Lord

Ham. 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 prais'd my
Lord such a ones Horse, when he meant to begge it; might it not?   Hor.
I, my Lord

Ham. Why ee'n so: and now my Lady Wormes, Chaplesse, and knockt
about the Mazard with a Sextons Spade; heere's fine Reuolution, if wee
had the tricke to see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but
to play at Loggets with 'em? mine ake to thinke on't

Clowne sings. A Pickhaxe and a Spade, a Spade, for and a
shrowding-Sheete:

O a Pit of Clay for to be made,

for such a Guest is meete

Ham. There's another: why might not that bee the Scull of a Lawyer?
where be his Quiddits now? his Quillets? his Cases? his Tenures, and
his Tricks? why doe's he suffer this rude knaue now to knocke him about
the Sconce with a dirty Shouell, 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 Recoueries: Is this the fine of his Fines, and the recouery of his
Recoueries, to haue his fine Pate full of fine Dirt? will his Vouchers
vouch him no more of his Purchases, and double ones too, then the
length and breadth of a paire of Indentures? the very Conueyances of
his Lands will hardly lye in this Boxe; and must the Inheritor himselfe
haue no more? ha?

Hor. Not a iot more, my Lord

Ham. Is not Parchment made of Sheep-skinnes?   Hor. I my Lord, and
of Calue-skinnes too

Ham. They are Sheepe and Calues that seek out assurance in that. I
will speake to this fellow: whose Graue's this Sir?

Clo. Mine Sir:

O a Pit of Clay for to be made,

for such a Guest is meete

Ham. I thinke it be thine indeed: for thou liest in't

Clo. You lye out on't Sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my
part, I doe not lye in't; and yet it is mine

Ham. Thou dost lye in't, to be in't and say 'tis thine: 'tis for the
dead, not for the quicke, therefore thou lyest

Clo. 'Tis a quicke lye Sir, 'twill away againe from me to you

Ham. What man dost thou digge it for?

Clo. For no man Sir

Ham. What woman then?

Clo. For none neither

Ham. Who is to be buried in't?

Clo. One that was a woman Sir; but rest her Soule, shee's dead

Ham. How absolute the knaue is? wee must speake by the Carde, or
equiuocation will vndoe vs: by the Lord Horatio, these three yeares I
haue taken note of it, the Age is growne so picked, that the toe of the
Pesant comes so neere the heeles of our Courtier, hee galls his Kibe.
How long hast thou been a Graue-maker?   Clo. Of all the dayes i'th'
yeare, I came too't that day that our last King Hamlet o'recame
Fortinbras

Ham. How long is that since?

Clo. Cannot you tell that? euery foole can tell that: It was the very
day, that young Hamlet was borne, hee that was mad, and sent into
England

Ham. I marry, why was he sent into England?   Clo. Why, because he
was mad; hee shall recouer his wits there; or if he do not, it's no
great matter there

Ham. Why?

Clo. 'Twill not be seene in him, there the men are as mad as he

Ham. How came he mad?

Clo. Very strangely they say

Ham. How strangely?

Clo. Faith e'ene with loosing his wits

Ham. Vpon what ground?

Clo. Why heere in Denmarke: I haue bin sixeteene heere, man and Boy
thirty yeares

Ham. How long will a man lie i'th' earth ere he rot?   Clo. Ifaith,
if he be not rotten before he die (as we haue many pocky Coarses now
adaies, that will scarce hold the laying in) he will last you some
eight yeare, or nine yeare. A Tanner will last you nine yeare

Ham. Why he, more then another?

Clo. Why sir, his hide is so tan'd with his Trade, that he will keepe
out water a great while. And your water, is a sore Decayer of your
horson dead body. Heres a Scull now: this Scul, has laine in the earth
three & twenty years

Ham. Whose was it?

Clo. A whoreson mad Fellowes it was;

Whose doe you thinke it was?

Ham. Nay, I know not

Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad Rogue, a pour'd a Flaggon of
Renish on my head once. This same Scull Sir, this same Scull sir, was
Yoricks Scull, the Kings Iester

Ham. This?

Clo. E'ene that

Ham. Let me see. Alas poore Yorick, I knew him Horatio, a fellow of
infinite Iest; of most excellent fancy, he hath borne me on his backe a
thousand times: And how abhorred my Imagination is, my gorge rises at
it. Heere hung those lipps, that I haue kist I know not how oft. Where
be your Iibes now? Your Gambals? Your Songs? Your flashes of Merriment
that were wont to set the Table on a Rore? No one now to mock your own
Ieering? Quite chopfalne? Now get you to my Ladies Chamber, and tell
her, let her paint an inch thicke, to this fauour she must come. Make
her laugh at that: prythee Horatio tell me one thing

Hor. What's that my Lord?

Ham. Dost thou thinke Alexander lookt o'this fashion i'th' earth?

Hor. E'ene so

Ham. And smelt so? Puh

Hor. E'ene so, my Lord

Ham. To what base vses we may returne Horatio. Why may not
Imagination trace the Noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping
a bunghole

Hor. 'Twere to consider: to curiously to consider so

Ham. No faith, not a iot. But to follow him thether with modestie
enough, & likeliehood to lead it; as thus. Alexander died: Alexander
was buried: Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of earth
we make Lome, and why of that Lome (whereto he was conuerted) might
they not stopp a Beere-barrell?

Imperiall Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keepe
the winde away. Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a Wall, t' expell the winters flaw. But soft, but soft,
aside; heere comes the King. Enter King, Queene, Laertes, and a Coffin,
with Lords attendant.

The Queene, the Courtiers. Who is that they follow, And with such
maimed rites? This doth betoken, The Coarse they follow, did with
disperate hand, Fore do it owne life; 'twas some Estate.

Couch we a while, and mark

Laer. What Cerimony else?

Ham. That is Laertes, a very Noble youth: Marke

Laer. What Cerimony else?

Priest. Her Obsequies haue bin as farre inlarg'd. As we haue
warrantie, her death was doubtfull, And but that great Command,
o're-swaies the order, She should in ground vnsanctified haue lodg'd,
Till the last Trumpet. For charitable praier, Shardes, Flints, and
Peebles, should be throwne on her: Yet heere she is allowed her Virgin
Rites, Her Maiden strewments, and the bringing home Of Bell and
Buriall

Laer. Must there no more be done ?

Priest. No more be done:

We should prophane the seruice of the dead, To sing sage Requiem, and
such rest to her As to peace-parted Soules

Laer. Lay her i'th' earth,

And from her faire and vnpolluted flesh,

May Violets spring. I tell thee (churlish Priest) A Ministring Angell
shall my Sister be,

When thou liest howling?

Ham. What, the faire Ophelia?

Queene. Sweets, to the sweet farewell.

I hop'd thou should'st haue bin my Hamlets wife: I thought thy
Bride-bed to haue deckt (sweet Maid) And not t'haue strew'd thy Graue

Laer. Oh terrible woer,

Fall ten times trebble, on that cursed head Whose wicked deed, thy most
Ingenious sence Depriu'd thee of. Hold off the earth a while, Till I
haue caught her once more in mine armes:

Leaps in the graue.

Now pile your dust, vpon the quicke, and dead, Till of this flat a
Mountaine you haue made, To o're top old Pelion, or the skyish head Of
blew Olympus

Ham. What is he, whose griefes

Beares such an Emphasis? whose phrase of Sorrow Coniure the wandring
Starres, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,

Hamlet the Dane

Laer. The deuill take thy soule

Ham. Thou prai'st not well,

I prythee take thy fingers from my throat; Sir though I am not
Spleenatiue, and rash, Yet haue I something in me dangerous,

Which let thy wisenesse feare. Away thy hand

King. Pluck them asunder

Qu. Hamlet, Hamlet

Gen. Good my Lord be quiet

Ham. Why I will fight with him vppon this Theme. Vntill my eielids
will no longer wag

Qu. Oh my Sonne, what Theame?

Ham. I lou'd Ophelia; fortie thousand Brothers Could not (with all
there quantitie of Loue) Make vp my summe. What wilt thou do for her?
King. Oh he is mad Laertes,

Qu. For loue of God forbeare him

Ham. Come show me what thou'lt doe.

Woo't weepe? Woo't fight? Woo't teare thy selfe? Woo't drinke vp Esile,
eate a Crocodile?

Ile doo't. Dost thou come heere to whine; To outface me with leaping in
her Graue?

Be buried quicke with her, and so will I. And if thou prate of
Mountaines; let them throw Millions of Akers on vs; till our ground

Sindging his pate against the burning Zone, Make Ossa like a wart. Nay,
and thou'lt mouth, Ile rant as well as thou

Kin. This is meere Madnesse:

And thus awhile the fit will worke on him: Anon as patient as the
female Doue,

When that her Golden Cuplet are disclos'd; His silence will sit
drooping

Ham. Heare you Sir:

What is the reason that you vse me thus?

I lou'd you euer; but it is no matter:

Let Hercules himselfe doe what he may,

The Cat will Mew, and Dogge will haue his day. Enter.

Kin. I pray you good Horatio wait vpon him, Strengthen your patience
in our last nights speech, Wee'l put the matter to the present push:
Good Gertrude set some watch ouer your Sonne, This Graue shall haue a
liuing Monument:

An houre of quiet shortly shall we see;

Till then, in patience our proceeding be.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio

Ham. So much for this Sir; now let me see the other, You doe
remember all the Circumstance

Hor. Remember it my Lord?

Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kinde of fighting, That would not
let me sleepe; me thought I lay Worse then the mutines in the Bilboes,
rashly, (And praise be rashnesse for it) let vs know, Our indiscretion
sometimes serues vs well, When our deare plots do paule, and that
should teach vs, There's a Diuinity that shapes our ends,

Rough-hew them how we will

Hor. That is most certaine

Ham. Vp from my Cabin

My sea-gowne scarft about me in the darke, Grop'd I to finde out them;
had my desire, Finger'd their Packet, and in fine, withdrew To mine
owne roome againe, making so bold, (My feares forgetting manners) to
vnseale Their grand Commission, where I found Horatio, Oh royall
knauery: An exact command,

Larded with many seuerall sorts of reason; Importing Denmarks health,
and Englands too, With hoo, such Bugges and Goblins in my life, That on
the superuize no leasure bated,

No not to stay the grinding of the Axe,

My head should be struck off

Hor. Ist possible?

Ham. Here's the Commission, read it at more leysure: But wilt thou
heare me how I did proceed?   Hor. I beseech you

Ham. Being thus benetted round with Villaines, Ere I could make a
Prologue to my braines, They had begun the Play. I sate me downe,
Deuis'd a new Commission, wrote it faire, I once did hold it as our
Statists doe,

A basenesse to write faire; and laboured much How to forget that
learning: but Sir now, It did me Yeomans seriuce: wilt thou know The
effects of what I wrote?

Hor. I, good my Lord

Ham. An earnest Coniuration from the King, As England was his
faithfull Tributary,

As loue betweene them, as the Palme should flourish, As Peace should
still her wheaten Garland weare, And stand a Comma 'tweene their
amities,

And many such like Assis of great charge, That on the view and know of
these Contents, Without debatement further, more or lesse, He should
the bearers put to sodaine death, Not shriuing time allowed

Hor. How was this seal'd?

Ham. Why, euen in that was Heauen ordinate; I had my fathers Signet
in my Purse,

Which was the Modell of that Danish Seale: Folded the Writ vp in forme
of the other, Subscrib'd it, gau't th' impression, plac't it safely,
The changeling neuer knowne: Now, the next day Was our Sea Fight, and
what to this was sement, Thou know'st already

Hor. So Guildensterne and Rosincrance, go too't

Ham. Why man, they did make loue to this imployment They are not
neere my Conscience; their debate Doth by their owne insinuation grow:

'Tis dangerous, when the baser nature comes Betweene the passe, and
fell incensed points Of mighty opposites

Hor. Why, what a King is this?

Ham. Does it not, thinkst thee, stand me now vpon He that hath kil'd
my King, and whor'd my Mother, Popt in betweene th' election and my
hopes, Throwne out his Angle for my proper life, And with such
coozenage; is't not perfect conscience, To quit him with this arme? And
is't not to be damn'd To let this Canker of our nature come

In further euill

Hor. It must be shortly knowne to him from England What is the issue
of the businesse there

Ham. It will be short,

The interim's mine, and a mans life's no more Then to say one: but I am
very sorry good Horatio, That to Laertes I forgot my selfe;

For by the image of my Cause, I see

The Portraiture of his; Ile count his fauours: But sure the brauery of
his griefe did put me Into a Towring passion

Hor. Peace, who comes heere?

Enter young Osricke.

Osr. Your Lordship is right welcome back to Denmarke

Ham. I humbly thank you Sir, dost know this waterflie?   Hor. No my
good Lord

Ham. 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 Kings Messe; 'tis a Chowgh; but as I saw
spacious in the possession of dirt

Osr. Sweet Lord, if your friendship were at leysure, I should impart
a thing to you from his Maiesty

Ham. I will receiue it with all diligence of spirit; put your Bonet
to his right vse, 'tis for the head

Osr. I thanke your Lordship, 'tis very hot

Ham. No, beleeue mee 'tis very cold, the winde is Northerly

Osr. It is indifferent cold my Lord indeed

Ham. Mee thinkes it is very soultry, and hot for my Complexion

Osr. Exceedingly, my Lord, it is very soultry, as 'twere I cannot
tell how: but my Lord, his Maiesty bad me signifie to you, that he ha's
laid a great wager on your head: Sir, this is the matter

Ham. I beseech you remember

Osr. Nay, in good faith, for mine ease in good faith: Sir, you are
not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is at his weapon

Ham. What's his weapon?

Osr. Rapier and dagger

Ham. That's two of his weapons; but well

Osr. The sir King ha's wag'd with him six Barbary horses, against
the which he impon'd as I take it, sixe French Rapiers and Poniards,
with their assignes, as Girdle, Hangers or so: three of the Carriages
infaith are very deare to fancy, very responsiue to the hilts, most
delicate carriages, and of very liberall conceit

Ham. What call you the Carriages?

Osr. The Carriages Sir, are the hangers

Ham. The phrase would bee more Germaine to the matter: If we could
carry Cannon by our sides; I would it might be Hangers till then; but
on sixe Barbary Horses against sixe French Swords: their Assignes, and
three liberall conceited Carriages, that's the French but against the
Danish; why is this impon'd as you call it?   Osr. The King Sir, hath
laid that in a dozen passes betweene you and him, hee shall not exceed
you three hits; He hath one twelue for mine, and that would come to
imediate tryall, if your Lordship would vouchsafe the Answere

Ham. How if I answere no?

Osr. I meane my Lord, the opposition of your person in tryall

Ham. Sir, I will walke heere in the Hall; if it please his Maiestie,
'tis the breathing time of day with me; let the Foyles bee brought, the
Gentleman willing, and the King hold his purpose; I will win for him if
I can: if not, Ile gaine nothing but my shame, and the odde hits

Osr. Shall I redeliuer you ee'n so?

Ham. To this effect Sir, after what flourish your nature will

Osr. I commend my duty to your Lordship

Ham. Yours, yours; hee does well to commend it himselfe, there are
no tongues else for's tongue

Hor. This Lapwing runs away with the shell on his head

Ham. He did Complie with his Dugge before hee suck't it: thus had he
and mine more of the same Beauty that I know the drossie age dotes on;
only got the tune of the time, and outward habite of encounter, a kinde
of yesty collection, which carries them through & through the most fond
and winnowed opinions; and doe but blow them to their tryalls: the
Bubbles are out

Hor. You will lose this wager, my Lord

Ham. I doe not thinke so, since he went into France, I haue beene in
continuall practice; I shall winne at the oddes: but thou wouldest not
thinke how all heere about my heart: but it is no matter

Hor. Nay, good my Lord

Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kinde of gain-giuing as
would perhaps trouble a woman

Hor. If your minde dislike any thing, obey. I will forestall their
repaire hither, and say you are not fit

Ham. Not a whit, we defie Augury; there's a speciall Prouidence in
the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come: if it bee not to
come, it will bee now: if it be not now; yet it will come; the
readinesse is all, since no man ha's ought of what he leaues. What is't
to leaue betimes? Enter King, Queene, Laertes and Lords, with other
Attendants with Foyles,

and Gauntlets, a Table and Flagons of Wine on it.

Kin. Come Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me

Ham. Giue me your pardon Sir, I'ue done you wrong, But pardon't as
you are a Gentleman.

This presence knowes,

And you must needs haue heard how I am punisht With sore distraction?
What I haue done

That might your nature honour, and exception Roughly awake, I heere
proclaime was madnesse: Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Neuer Hamlet. If
Hamlet from himselfe be tane away:

And when he's not himselfe, do's wrong Laertes, Then Hamlet does it
not, Hamlet denies it: Who does it then? His Madnesse? If't be so,
Hamlet is of the Faction that is wrong'd, His madnesse is poore Hamlets
Enemy.

Sir, in this Audience,

Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd euill, Free me so farre in your most
generous thoughts, That I haue shot mine Arrow o're the house, And hurt
my Mother

Laer. I am satisfied in Nature,

Whose motiue in this case should stirre me most To my Reuenge. But in
my termes of Honor

I stand aloofe, and will no reconcilement, Till by some elder Masters
of knowne Honor, I haue a voyce, and president of peace

To keepe my name vngorg'd. But till that time, I do receiue your
offer'd loue like loue, And wil not wrong it

Ham. I do embrace it freely,

And will this Brothers wager frankely play. Giue vs the Foyles: Come
on

Laer. Come one for me

Ham. Ile be your foile Laertes, in mine ignorance, Your Skill shall
like a Starre i'th' darkest night, Sticke fiery off indeede

Laer. You mocke me Sir

Ham. No by this hand

King. Giue them the Foyles yong Osricke, Cousen Hamlet, you know the
wager

Ham. Verie well my Lord,

Your Grace hath laide the oddes a'th' weaker side

King. I do not feare it,

I haue seene you both:

But since he is better'd, we haue therefore oddes

Laer. This is too heauy,

Let me see another

Ham. This likes me well,

These Foyles haue all a length.

Prepare to play.

Osricke. I my good Lord

King. Set me the Stopes of wine vpon that Table: If Hamlet giue the
first, or second hit,

Or quit in answer of the third exchange,

Let all the Battlements their Ordinance fire, The King shal drinke to
Hamlets better breath, And in the Cup an vnion shal he throw

Richer then that, which foure successiue Kings In Denmarkes Crowne haue
worne.

Giue me the Cups,

And let the Kettle to the Trumpets speake, The Trumpet to the Cannoneer
without,

The Cannons to the Heauens, the Heauen to Earth, Now the King drinkes
to Hamlet. Come, begin, And you the Iudges beare a wary eye

Ham. Come on sir

Laer. Come on sir.

They play.

Ham. One

Laer. No

Ham. Iudgement

Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit

Laer. Well: againe

King. Stay, giue me drinke.

Hamlet, this Pearle is thine,

Here's to thy health. Giue him the cup,

Trumpets sound, and shot goes off.

Ham. Ile play this bout first, set by a-while. Come: Another hit;
what say you?

Laer. A touch, a touch, I do confesse

King. Our Sonne shall win

Qu. He's fat, and scant of breath.

Heere's a Napkin, rub thy browes,

The Queene Carowses to thy fortune, Hamlet

Ham. Good Madam

King. Gertrude, do not drinke

Qu. I will my Lord;

I pray you pardon me

King. It is the poyson'd Cup, it is too late

Ham. I dare not drinke yet Madam,

By and by

Qu. Come, let me wipe thy face

Laer. My Lord, Ile hit him now

King. I do not thinke't

Laer. And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience

Ham. Come for the third.

Laertes, you but dally,

I pray you passe with your best violence, I am affear'd you make a
wanton of me

Laer. Say you so? Come on.

Play.

Osr. Nothing neither way

Laer. Haue at you now.

In scuffling they change Rapiers.

King. Part them, they are incens'd

Ham. Nay come, againe

Osr. Looke to the Queene there hoa

Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is't my Lord?   Osr. How is't
Laertes?

Laer. Why as a Woodcocke

To mine Sprindge, Osricke,

I am iustly kill'd with mine owne Treacherie

Ham. How does the Queene?

King. She sounds to see them bleede

Qu. No, no, the drinke, the drinke.

Oh my deere Hamlet, the drinke, the drinke, I am poyson'd

Ham. Oh Villany! How? Let the doore be lock'd. Treacherie, seeke it
out

Laer. It is heere Hamlet.

Hamlet, thou art slaine,

No Medicine in the world can do thee good. In thee, there is not halfe
an houre of life; The Treacherous Instrument is in thy hand, Vnbated
and envenom'd: the foule practise Hath turn'd it selfe on me. Loe,
heere I lye, Neuer to rise againe: Thy Mothers poyson'd: I can no more,
the King, the King's too blame

Ham. The point envenom'd too,

Then venome to thy worke.

Hurts the King.

All. Treason, Treason

King. O yet defend me Friends, I am but hurt

Ham. Heere thou incestuous, murdrous,

Damned Dane,

Drinke off this Potion: Is thy Vnion heere? Follow my Mother.

King Dyes.

Laer. He is iustly seru'd.

It is a poyson temp'red by himselfe:

Exchange forgiuenesse with me, Noble Hamlet; Mine and my Fathers death
come not vpon thee, Nor thine on me.

Dyes.

Ham. Heauen make thee free of it, I follow thee. I am dead Horatio,
wretched Queene adiew, You that looke pale, and tremble at this chance,
That are but Mutes or audience to this acte: Had I but time (as this
fell Sergeant death Is strick'd in his Arrest) oh I could tell you. But
let it be: Horatio, I am dead,

Thou liu'st, report me and my causes right To the vnsatisfied

Hor. Neuer beleeue it.

I am more an Antike Roman then a Dane:

Heere's yet some Liquor left

Ham. As th'art a man, giue me the Cup. Let go, by Heauen Ile
haue't.

Oh good Horatio, what a wounded name,

(Things standing thus vnknowne) shall liue behind me. If thou did'st
euer hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicitie awhile,

And in this harsh world draw thy breath in paine, To tell my Storie.

March afarre off, and shout within.

What warlike noyse is this?

Enter Osricke.

Osr. Yong Fortinbras, with conquest come fro[m] Poland To th'
Ambassadors of England giues this warlike volly

Ham. O I dye Horatio:

The potent poyson quite ore-crowes my spirit, I cannot liue to heare
the Newes from England, But I do prophesie th' election lights

On Fortinbras, he ha's my dying voyce,

So tell him with the occurrents more and lesse, Which haue solicited.
The rest is silence. O, o, o, o.

Dyes

Hora. Now cracke a Noble heart:

Goodnight sweet Prince,

And flights of Angels sing thee to thy rest, Why do's the Drumme come
hither?

Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassador, with Drumme, Colours, and

Attendants.

Fortin. Where is this sight?

Hor. What is it ye would see;

If ought of woe, or wonder, cease your search

For. His quarry cries on hauocke. Oh proud death, What feast is
toward in thine eternall Cell. That thou so many Princes, at a shoote,

So bloodily hast strooke

Amb. The sight is dismall,

And our affaires from England come too late, The eares are senselesse
that should giue vs hearing, To tell him his command'ment is fulfill'd,
That Rosincrance and Guildensterne are dead: Where should we haue our
thankes?

Hor. Not from his mouth,

Had it th' abilitie of life to thanke you: He neuer gaue command'ment
for their death. But since so iumpe vpon this bloodie question, You
from the Polake warres, and you from England Are heere arriued. Giue
order that these bodies High on a stage be placed to the view,

And let me speake to th' yet vnknowing world, How these things came
about. So shall you heare Of carnall, bloudie, and vnnaturall acts, Of
accidentall iudgements, casuall slaughters Of death's put on by
cunning, and forc'd cause, And in this vpshot, purposes mistooke,

Falne on the Inuentors head. All this can I Truly deliuer

For. Let vs hast to heare it,

And call the Noblest to the Audience.

For me, with sorrow, I embrace my Fortune, I haue some Rites of memory
in this Kingdome, Which are to claime, my vantage doth

Inuite me,

Hor. Of that I shall haue alwayes cause to speake, And from his
mouth

Whose voyce will draw on more:

But let this same be presently perform'd, Euen whiles mens mindes are
wilde,

Lest more mischance

On plots, and errors happen

For. Let foure Captaines

Beare Hamlet like a Soldier to the Stage, For he was likely, had he
beene put on

To haue prou'd most royally:

And for his passage,

The Souldiours Musicke, and the rites of Warre Speake lowdly for him.

Take vp the body; Such a sight as this

Becomes the Field, but heere shewes much amis. Go, bid the Souldiers
shoote.

Exeunt. Marching: after the which, a Peale of Ordenance are shot off.



FINIS. The tragedie of HAMLET, Prince of Denmarke.

The Tragedie of King Lear



Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmond.

Kent. I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany, then
Cornwall

Glou. It did alwayes seeme so to vs: But now in the diuision of the
Kingdome, it appeares not which of the Dukes hee valewes

most, for qualities are so weigh'd, that curiosity in neither, can make
choise of eithers moity

Kent. Is not this your Son, my Lord?

Glou. His breeding Sir, hath bin at my charge. I haue so often
blush'd to acknowledge him, that now I am braz'd too't

Kent. I cannot conceiue you

Glou. Sir, this yong Fellowes mother could; wherevpon she grew round
womb'd, and had indeede (Sir) a Sonne for her Cradle, ere she had a
husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?

Kent. I cannot wish the fault vndone, the issue of it, being so
proper

Glou. But I haue a Sonne, Sir, by order of Law, some yeere elder
then this; who, yet is no deerer in my account, though this Knaue came
somthing sawcily to the world before he was sent for: yet was his
Mother fayre, there was good sport at his making, and the horson must
be acknowledged. Doe you know this Noble Gentleman, Edmond?

Edm. No, my Lord

Glou. My Lord of Kent:

Remember him heereafter, as my Honourable Friend

Edm. My seruices to your Lordship

Kent. I must loue you, and sue to know you better

Edm. Sir, I shall study deseruing

Glou. He hath bin out nine yeares, and away he shall againe. The
King is comming.

Sennet. Enter King Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Gonerill, Regan, Cordelia,
and

attendants.

Lear. Attend the Lords of France & Burgundy, Gloster

Glou. I shall, my Lord.

Enter.

Lear. Meane time we shal expresse our darker purpose. Giue me the Map
there. Know, that we haue diuided In three our Kingdome: and 'tis our
fast intent, To shake all Cares and Businesse from our Age, Conferring
them on yonger strengths, while we Vnburthen'd crawle toward death. Our
son of Cornwal, And you our no lesse louing Sonne of Albany, We haue
this houre a constant will to publish Our daughters seuerall Dowers,
that future strife May be preuented now. The Princes, France &
Burgundy, Great Riuals in our yongest daughters loue, Long in our
Court, haue made their amorous soiourne, And heere are to be answer'd.
Tell me my daughters (Since now we will diuest vs both of Rule,
Interest of Territory, Cares of State)

Which of you shall we say doth loue vs most, That we, our largest
bountie may extend

Where Nature doth with merit challenge. Gonerill, Our eldest borne,
speake first

Gon. Sir, I loue you more then word can weild y matter, Deerer then
eye-sight, space, and libertie, Beyond what can be valewed, rich or
rare, No lesse then life, with grace, health, beauty, honor: As much as
Childe ere lou'd, or Father found. A loue that makes breath poore, and
speech vnable, Beyond all manner of so much I loue you

Cor. What shall Cordelia speake? Loue, and be silent

Lear. Of all these bounds euen from this Line, to this, With
shadowie Forrests, and with Champains rich'd With plenteous Riuers, and
wide-skirted Meades We make thee Lady. To thine and Albanies issues Be
this perpetuall. What sayes our second Daughter? Our deerest Regan,
wife of Cornwall?

Reg. I am made of that selfe-mettle as my Sister, And prize me at her
worth. In my true heart, I finde she names my very deede of loue:

Onely she comes too short, that I professe My selfe an enemy to all
other ioyes,

Which the most precious square of sense professes, And finde I am alone
felicitate

In your deere Highnesse loue

Cor. Then poore Cordelia,

And yet not so, since I am sure my loue's More ponderous then my
tongue

Lear. To thee, and thine hereditarie euer, Remaine this ample third
of our faire Kingdome, No lesse in space, validitie, and pleasure Then
that conferr'd on Gonerill. Now our Ioy, Although our last and least;
to whose yong loue, The Vines of France, and Milke of Burgundie, Striue
to be interest. What can you say, to draw A third, more opilent then
your Sisters? speake

Cor. Nothing my Lord

Lear. Nothing?

Cor. Nothing

Lear. Nothing will come of nothing, speake againe

Cor. Vnhappie that I am, I cannot heaue My heart into my mouth: I
loue your Maiesty According to my bond, no more nor lesse

Lear. How, how Cordelia? Mend your speech a little, Least you may
marre your Fortunes

Cor. Good my Lord,

You haue begot me, bred me, lou'd me.

I returne those duties backe as are right fit, Obey you, Loue you, and
most Honour you.

Why haue my Sisters Husbands, if they say They loue you all? Happily
when I shall wed, That Lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall
carry Halfe my loue with him, halfe my Care, and Dutie, Sure I shall
neuer marry like my Sisters

Lear. But goes thy heart with this?

Cor. I my good Lord

Lear. So young, and so vntender?

Cor. So young my Lord, and true

Lear. Let it be so, thy truth then be thy dowre: For by the sacred
radience of the Sunne,

The misteries of Heccat and the night:

By all the operation of the Orbes,

From whom we do exist, and cease to be,

Heere I disclaime all my Paternall care,

Propinquity and property of blood,

And as a stranger to my heart and me,

Hold thee from this for euer. The barbarous Scythian, Or he that makes
his generation messes

To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosome Be as well neighbour'd,
pittied, and releeu'd, As thou my sometime Daughter

Kent. Good my Liege

Lear. Peace Kent,

Come not betweene the Dragon and his wrath, I lou'd her most, and
thought to set my rest On her kind nursery. Hence and avoid my sight:
So be my graue my peace, as here I giue

Her Fathers heart from her; call France, who stirres? Call Burgundy,
Cornwall, and Albanie,

With my two Daughters Dowres, digest the third, Let pride, which she
cals plainnesse, marry her: I doe inuest you ioyntly with my power,

Preheminence, and all the large effects

That troope with Maiesty. Our selfe by Monthly course, With reseruation
of an hundred Knights,

By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode

Make with you by due turne, onely we shall retaine The name, and all
th' addition to a King: the Sway, Reuennew, Execution of the rest,

Beloued Sonnes be yours, which to confirme, This Coronet part betweene
you

Kent. Royall Lear,

Whom I haue euer honor'd as my King,

Lou'd as my Father, as my Master follow'd, As my great Patron thought
on in my praiers

Le. The bow is bent & drawne, make from the shaft

Kent. Let it fall rather, though the forke inuade The region of my
heart, be Kent vnmannerly, When Lear is mad, what wouldest thou do old
man? Think'st thou that dutie shall haue dread to speake, When power to
flattery bowes?

To plainnesse honour's bound,

When Maiesty falls to folly, reserue thy state, And in thy best
consideration checke

This hideous rashnesse, answere my life, my iudgement: Thy yongest
Daughter do's not loue thee least, Nor are those empty hearted, whose
low sounds Reuerbe no hollownesse

Lear. Kent, on thy life no more

Kent. My life I neuer held but as pawne To wage against thine
enemies, nere feare to loose it, Thy safety being motiue

Lear. Out of my sight

Kent. See better Lear, and let me still remaine The true blanke of
thine eie

Lear. Now by Apollo,

Kent. Now by Apollo, King

Thou swear'st thy Gods in vaine

Lear. O Vassall! Miscreant

Alb. Cor. Deare Sir forbeare

Kent. Kill thy Physition, and thy fee bestow Vpon the foule disease,
reuoke thy guift, Or whil'st I can vent clamour from my throate, Ile
tell thee thou dost euill

Lea. Heare me recreant, on thine allegeance heare me; That thou hast
sought to make vs breake our vowes, Which we durst neuer yet; and with
strain'd pride, To come betwixt our sentences, and our power, Which,
nor our nature, nor our place can beare; Our potencie made good, take
thy reward.

Fiue dayes we do allot thee for prouision, To shield thee from
disasters of the world, And on the sixt to turne thy hated backe

Vpon our kingdome: if on the tenth day following, Thy banisht trunke be
found in our Dominions, The moment is thy death, away. By Iupiter, This
shall not be reuok'd,

Kent. Fare thee well King, sith thus thou wilt appeare, Freedome
liues hence, and banishment is here; The Gods to their deere shelter
take thee Maid, That iustly think'st, and hast most rightly said: And
your large speeches, may your deeds approue, That good effects may
spring from words of loue: Thus Kent, O Princes, bids you all adew,

Hee'l shape his old course, in a Country new. Enter.

Flourish. Enter Gloster with France, and Burgundy, Attendants.

Cor. Heere's France and Burgundy, my Noble Lord

Lear. My Lord of Burgundie,

We first addresse toward you, who with this King Hath riuald for our
Daughter; what in the least Will you require in present Dower with her,
Or cease your quest of Loue?

Bur. Most Royall Maiesty,

I craue no more then hath your Highnesse offer'd, Nor will you tender
lesse?

Lear. Right Noble Burgundy,

When she was deare to vs, we did hold her so, But now her price is
fallen: Sir, there she stands, If ought within that little seeming
substance, Or all of it with our displeasure piec'd, And nothing more
may fitly like your Grace, Shee's there, and she is yours

Bur. I know no answer

Lear. Will you with those infirmities she owes, Vnfriended, new
adopted to our hate,

Dow'rd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath, Take her or, leaue
her

Bur. Pardon me Royall Sir,

Election makes not vp in such conditions

Le. Then leaue her sir, for by the powre that made me, I tell you
all her wealth. For you great King, I would not from your loue make
such a stray, To match you where I hate, therefore beseech you T' auert
your liking a more worthier way, Then on a wretch whom Nature is
asham'd

Almost t' acknowledge hers

Fra. This is most strange,

That she whom euen but now, was your obiect, The argument of your
praise, balme of your age, The best, the deerest, should in this trice
of time Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle So many folds of
fauour: sure her offence Must be of such vnnaturall degree,

That monsters it: Or your fore-voucht affection Fall into taint, which
to beleeue of her

Must be a faith that reason without miracle Should neuer plant in me

Cor. I yet beseech your Maiesty.

If for I want that glib and oylie Art,

To speake and purpose not, since what I will intend, Ile do't before I
speake, that you make knowne It is no vicious blot, murther, or
foulenesse, No vnchaste action or dishonoured step

That hath depriu'd me of your Grace and fauour, But euen for want of
that, for which I am richer, A still soliciting eye, and such a tongue,
That I am glad I haue not, though not to haue it, Hath lost me in your
liking

Lear. Better thou had'st

Not beene borne, then not t'haue pleas'd me better

Fra. Is it but this? A tardinesse in nature, Which often leaues the
history vnspoke

That it intends to do: my Lord of Burgundy, What say you to the Lady?
Loue's not loue When it is mingled with regards, that stands Aloofe
from th' intire point, will you haue her? She is herselfe a Dowrie

Bur. Royall King,

Giue but that portion which your selfe propos'd, And here I take
Cordelia by the hand,

Dutchesse of Burgundie

Lear. Nothing, I haue sworne, I am firme

Bur. I am sorry then you haue so lost a Father, That you must loose
a husband

Cor. Peace be with Burgundie,

Since that respect and Fortunes are his loue, I shall not be his wife

Fra. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poore, Most choise
forsaken, and most lou'd despis'd, Thee and thy vertues here I seize
vpon,

Be it lawfull I take vp what's cast away. Gods, Gods! 'Tis strange,
that from their cold'st neglect My Loue should kindle to enflam'd
respect. Thy dowrelesse Daughter King, throwne to my chance, Is Queene
of vs, of ours, and our faire France: Not all the Dukes of watrish
Burgundy,

Can buy this vnpriz'd precious Maid of me. Bid them farewell Cordelia,
though vnkinde, Thou loosest here a better where to finde

Lear. Thou hast her France, let her be thine, for we Haue no such
Daughter, nor shall euer see That face of hers againe, therfore be
gone, Without our Grace, our Loue, our Benizon: Come Noble Burgundie.

Flourish. Exeunt.

Fra. Bid farwell to your Sisters

Cor. The Iewels of our Father, with wash'd eies Cordelia leaues you,
I know you what you are, And like a Sister am most loth to call

Your faults as they are named. Loue well our Father: To your professed
bosomes I commit him,

But yet alas, stood I within his Grace,

I would prefer him to a better place,

So farewell to you both

Regn. Prescribe not vs our dutie

Gon. Let your study

Be to content your Lord, who hath receiu'd you At Fortunes almes, you
haue obedience scanted, And well are worth the want that you haue
wanted

Cor. Time shall vnfold what plighted cunning hides, Who couers
faults, at last with shame derides: Well may you prosper

Fra. Come my faire Cordelia.

Exit France and Cor.

Gon. Sister, it is not little I haue to say, Of what most neerely
appertaines to vs both, I thinke our Father will hence to night

Reg. That's most certaine, and with you: next moneth with vs

Gon. You see how full of changes his age is, the obseruation we haue
made of it hath beene little; he alwaies lou'd our Sister most, and
with what poore iudgement he hath now cast her off, appeares too
grossely

Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age, yet he hath euer but slenderly
knowne himselfe

Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath bin but rash, then must
we looke from his age, to receiue not alone the imperfections of long
ingraffed condition, but therewithall the vnruly way-wardnesse, that
infirme and cholericke yeares bring with them

Reg. Such vnconstant starts are we like to haue from him, as this of
Kents banishment

Gon. There is further complement of leaue-taking betweene France and
him, pray you let vs sit together, if our Father carry authority with
such disposition as he beares, this last surrender of his will but
offend vs

Reg. We shall further thinke of it

Gon. We must do something, and i'th' heate.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Bastard.

Bast. Thou Nature art my Goddesse, to thy Law My seruices are bound,
wherefore should I Stand in the plague of custome, and permit The
curiosity of Nations, to depriue me?

For that I am some twelue, or fourteene Moonshines Lag of a Brother?
Why Bastard? Wherefore base? When my Dimensions are as well compact,

My minde as generous, and my shape as true As honest Madams issue? Why
brand they vs With Base? With basenes Bastardie? Base, Base? Who in the
lustie stealth of Nature, take More composition, and fierce qualitie,

Then doth within a dull stale tyred bed

Goe to th' creating a whole tribe of Fops Got 'tweene a sleepe, and
wake? Well then, Legitimate Edgar, I must haue your land,

Our Fathers loue, is to the Bastard Edmond, As to th' legitimate: fine
word: Legitimate. Well, my Legittimate, if this Letter speed, And my
inuention thriue, Edmond the base

Shall to'th' Legitimate: I grow, I prosper: Now Gods, stand vp for
Bastards.

Enter Gloucester.

Glo. Kent banish'd thus? and France in choller parted? And the King
gone to night? Prescrib'd his powre, Confin'd to exhibition? All this
done

Vpon the gad? Edmond, how now? What newes?   Bast. So please your
Lordship, none

Glou. Why so earnestly seeke you to put vp y Letter?   Bast. I know
no newes, my Lord

Glou. What Paper were you reading?

Bast. Nothing my Lord

Glou. No? what needed then that terrible dispatch of it into your
Pocket? The quality of nothing, hath not such neede to hide it selfe.
Let's see: come, if it bee nothing, I shall not neede Spectacles

Bast. I beseech you Sir, pardon mee; it is a Letter from my Brother,
that I haue not all ore-read; and for so much as I haue perus'd, I
finde it not fit for your ore-looking

Glou. Giue me the Letter, Sir

Bast. I shall offend, either to detaine, or giue it: The Contents,
as in part I vnderstand them, Are too blame

Glou. Let's see, let's see

Bast. I hope for my Brothers iustification, hee wrote this but as an
essay, or taste of my Vertue

Glou. reads. This policie, and reuerence of Age, makes the world
bitter to the best of our times: keepes our Fortunes from vs, till our
oldnesse cannot rellish them. I begin to finde an idle and fond
bondage, in the oppression of aged tyranny, who swayes not as it hath
power, but as it is suffer'd. Come to me, that of this I may speake
more. If our Father would sleepe till I wak'd him, you should enioy
halfe his Reuennew for euer, and liue the beloued of your Brother.
Edgar.

Hum? Conspiracy? Sleepe till I wake him, you should enioy halfe his
Reuennew: my Sonne Edgar, had hee a hand to write this? A heart and
braine to breede it in? When came you to this? Who brought it?

Bast. It was not brought mee, my Lord; there's the cunning of it. I
found it throwne in at the Casement of my Closset

Glou. You know the character to be your Brothers?   Bast. If the
matter were good my Lord, I durst swear it were his: but in respect of
that, I would faine thinke it were not

Glou. It is his

Bast. It is his hand, my Lord: but I hope his heart is not in the
Contents

Glo. Has he neuer before sounded you in this busines?   Bast. Neuer
my Lord. But I haue heard him oft maintaine it to be fit, that Sonnes
at perfect age, and Fathers declin'd, the Father should bee as Ward to
the Son, and the Sonne manage his Reuennew

Glou. O Villain, villain: his very opinion in the Letter. Abhorred
Villaine, vnnaturall, detested, brutish Villaine; worse then brutish:
Go sirrah, seeke him: Ile apprehend him. Abhominable Villaine, where is
he?   Bast. I do not well know my L[ord]. If it shall please you to
suspend your indignation against my Brother, til you can deriue from
him better testimony of his intent, you shold run a certaine course:
where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it
would make a great gap in your owne Honor, and shake in peeces, the
heart of his obedience. I dare pawne downe my life for him, that he
hath writ this to feele my affection to your Honor, & to no other
pretence of danger

Glou. Thinke you so?

Bast. If your Honor iudge it meete, I will place you where you shall
heare vs conferre of this, and by an Auricular assurance haue your
satisfaction, and that without any further delay, then this very
Euening

Glou. He cannot bee such a Monster. Edmond seeke him out: winde me
into him, I pray you: frame the Businesse after your owne wisedome. I
would vnstate my selfe, to be in a due resolution

Bast. I will seeke him Sir, presently: conuey the businesse as I
shall find meanes, and acquaint you withall

Glou. These late Eclipses in the Sun and Moone portend no good to
vs: though the wisedome of Nature can reason it thus, and thus, yet
Nature finds it selfe scourg'd by the sequent effects. Loue cooles,
friendship falls off, Brothers diuide. In Cities, mutinies; in
Countries, discord; in Pallaces, Treason; and the Bond crack'd, 'twixt
Sonne and Father. This villaine of mine comes vnder the prediction;
there's Son against Father, the King fals from byas of Nature, there's
Father against Childe. We haue seene the best of our time.
Machinations, hollownesse, treacherie, and all ruinous disorders follow
vs disquietly to our Graues. Find out this Villain, Edmond, it shall
lose thee nothing, do it carefully: and the Noble & true-harted Kent
banish'd; his offence, honesty. 'Tis strange.

Exit

Bast. This is the excellent foppery of the world, that when we are
sicke in fortune, often the surfets of our own behauiour, we make
guilty of our disasters, the Sun, the Moone, and Starres, as if we were
villaines on necessitie, Fooles by heauenly compulsion, Knaues,
Theeues, and Treachers by Sphericall predominance. Drunkards, Lyars,
and Adulterers by an inforc'd obedience of Planatary influence; and all
that we are euill in, by a diuine thrusting on. An admirable euasion of
Whore-master-man, to lay his Goatish disposition on the charge of a
Starre, My father compounded with my mother vnder the Dragons taile,
and my Natiuity was vnder Vrsa Maior, so that it followes, I am rough
and Leacherous. I should haue bin that I am, had the maidenlest Starre
in the Firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.

Enter Edgar.

Pat: he comes like the Catastrophe of the old Comedie: my Cue is
villanous Melancholly, with a sighe like Tom o' Bedlam. - O these
Eclipses do portend these diuisions. Fa, Sol, La, Me

Edg. How now Brother Edmond, what serious contemplation are you in?

Bast. I am thinking Brother of a prediction I read this other day,
what should follow these Eclipses

Edg. Do you busie your selfe with that?   Bast. I promise you, the
effects he writes of, succeede vnhappily.

When saw you my Father last?

Edg. The night gone by

Bast. Spake you with him?

Edg. I, two houres together

Bast. Parted you in good termes? Found you no displeasure in him, by
word, nor countenance?

Edg. None at all,

Bast. Bethink your selfe wherein you may haue offended him: and at my
entreaty forbeare his presence, vntill some little time hath qualified
the heat of his displeasure, which at this instant so rageth in him,
that with the mischiefe of your person, it would scarsely alay

Edg. Some Villaine hath done me wrong

Edm. That's my feare, I pray you haue a continent forbearance till
the speed of his rage goes slower: and as I say, retire with me to my
lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to heare my Lord speake:
pray ye goe, there's my key: if you do stirre abroad, goe arm'd

Edg. Arm'd, Brother?

Edm. Brother, I aduise you to the best, I am no honest man, if ther
be any good meaning toward you: I haue told you what I haue seene, and
heard: But faintly. Nothing like the image, and horror of it, pray you
away

Edg. Shall I heare from you anon?

Enter.

Edm. I do serue you in this businesse:

A Credulous Father, and a Brother Noble,

Whose nature is so farre from doing harmes, That he suspects none: on
whose foolish honestie My practises ride easie: I see the businesse.
Let me, if not by birth, haue lands by wit, All with me's meete, that I
can fashion fit. Enter.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Gonerill, and Steward.

Gon. Did my Father strike my Gentleman for chiding of his Foole?

Ste. I Madam

Gon. By day and night, he wrongs me, euery howre He flashes into one
grosse crime, or other, That sets vs all at ods: Ile not endure it; His
Knights grow riotous, and himselfe vpbraides vs On euery trifle. When
he returnes from hunting, I will not speake with him, say I am sicke,
If you come slacke of former seruices,

You shall do well, the fault of it Ile answer

Ste. He's comming Madam, I heare him

Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please, You and your Fellowes:
I'de haue it come to question; If he distaste it, let him to my
Sister,

Whose mind and mine I know in that are one, Remember what I haue said

Ste. Well Madam

Gon. And let his Knights haue colder lookes among you: what growes
of it no matter, aduise your fellowes so, Ile write straight to my
Sister to hold my course; prepare for dinner.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Kent.

Kent. If but as will I other accents borrow, That can my speech
defuse, my good intent May carry through it selfe to that full issue
For which I raiz'd my likenesse. Now banisht Kent, If thou canst serue
where thou dost stand condemn'd, So may it come, thy Master whom thou
lou'st, Shall find thee full of labours.

Hornes within. Enter Lear and Attendants.

Lear. Let me not stay a iot for dinner, go get it ready: how now,
what art thou?

Kent. A man Sir

Lear. What dost thou professe? What would'st thou with vs?

Kent. I do professe to be no lesse then I seeme; to serue him truely
that will put me in trust, to loue him that is honest, to conuerse with
him that is wise and saies little, to feare iudgement, to fight when I
cannot choose, and to eate no fish

Lear. What art thou?

Kent. A very honest hearted Fellow, and as poore as the King

Lear. If thou be'st as poore for a subiect, as hee's for a King,
thou art poore enough. What wouldst thou?   Kent. Seruice

Lear. Who wouldst thou serue?

Kent. You

Lear. Do'st thou know me fellow?

Kent. No Sir, but you haue that in your countenance, which I would
faine call Master

Lear. What's that?

Kent. Authority

Lear. What seruices canst thou do?

Kent. I can keepe honest counsaile, ride, run, marre a curious tale
in telling it, and deliuer a plaine message bluntly: that which
ordinary men are fit for, I am quallified in, and the best of me, is
Dilligence

Lear. How old art thou?

Kent. Not so young Sir to loue a woman for singing, nor so old to
dote on her for any thing. I haue yeares on my backe forty eight

Lear. Follow me, thou shalt serue me, if I like thee no worse after
dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner ho, dinner, where's my
knaue? my Foole? Go you and call my Foole hither. You you Sirrah,
where's my Daughter? Enter Steward.

Ste. So please you-

Enter.

Lear. What saies the Fellow there? Call the Clotpole backe: wher's my
Foole? Ho, I thinke the world's asleepe, how now? Where's that
Mungrell?

Knigh. He saies my Lord, your Daughters is not well

Lear. Why came not the slaue backe to me when I call'd him?

Knigh. Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would not

Lear. He would not?

Knight. My Lord, I know not what the matter is, but to my iudgement
your Highnesse is not entertain'd with that Ceremonious affection as
you were wont, theres a great abatement of kindnesse appeares as well
in the generall dependants, as in the Duke himselfe also, and your
Daughter

Lear. Ha? Saist thou so?

Knigh. I beseech you pardon me my Lord, if I bee mistaken, for my
duty cannot be silent, when I thinke your Highnesse wrong'd

Lear. Thou but remembrest me of mine owne Conception, I haue
perceiued a most faint neglect of late, which I haue rather blamed as
mine owne iealous curiositie, then as a very pretence and purpose of
vnkindnesse; I will looke further intoo't: but where's my Foole? I haue
not seene him this two daies

Knight. Since my young Ladies going into France Sir, the Foole hath
much pined away

Lear. No more of that, I haue noted it well, goe you and tell my
Daughter, I would speake with her. Goe you call hither my Foole; Oh you
Sir, you, come you hither Sir, who am I Sir?

Enter Steward.

Ste. My Ladies Father

Lear. My Ladies Father? my Lords knaue, you whorson dog, you slaue,
you curre

Ste. I am none of these my Lord,

I beseech your pardon

Lear. Do you bandy lookes with me, you Rascall?   Ste. Ile not be
strucken my Lord

Kent. Nor tript neither, you base Foot-ball plaier

Lear. I thanke thee fellow.

Thou seru'st me, and Ile loue thee

Kent. Come sir, arise, away, Ile teach you differences: away, away,
if you will measure your lubbers length againe, tarry, but away, goe
too, haue you wisedome, so

Lear. Now my friendly knaue I thanke thee, there's earnest of thy
seruice.

Enter Foole.

Foole. Let me hire him too, here's my Coxcombe

Lear. How now my pretty knaue, how dost thou?   Foole. Sirrah, you
were best take my Coxcombe

Lear. Why my Boy?

Foole. Why? for taking ones part that's out of fauour, nay, & thou
canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch colde shortly, there
take my Coxcombe; why this fellow ha's banish'd two on's Daughters, and
did the third a blessing against his will, if thou follow him, thou
must needs weare my Coxcombe. How now Nunckle? would I had two
Coxcombes and two Daughters

Lear. Why my Boy?

Fool. If I gaue them all my liuing, I'ld keepe my Coxcombes my selfe,
there's mine, beg another of thy Daughters

Lear. Take heed Sirrah, the whip

Foole. Truth's a dog must to kennell, hee must bee whipt out, when
the Lady Brach may stand by'th' fire and stinke

Lear. A pestilent gall to me

Foole. Sirha, Ile teach thee a speech

Lear. Do

Foole. Marke it Nuncle;

Haue more then thou showest,

Speake lesse then thou knowest,

Lend lesse then thou owest,

Ride more then thou goest,

Learne more then thou trowest,

Set lesse then thou throwest;

Leaue thy drinke and thy whore,

And keepe in a dore,

And thou shalt haue more,

Then two tens to a score

Kent. This is nothing Foole

Foole. Then 'tis like the breath of an vnfeed Lawyer, you gaue me
nothing for't, can you make no vse of nothing Nuncle?

Lear. Why no Boy,

Nothing can be made out of nothing

Foole. Prythee tell him, so much the rent of his land comes to, he
will not beleeue a Foole

Lear. A bitter Foole

Foole. Do'st thou know the difference my Boy, betweene a bitter
Foole, and a sweet one

Lear. No Lad, teach me

Foole. Nunckle, giue me an egge, and Ile giue thee two Crownes

Lear. What two Crownes shall they be?

Foole. Why after I haue cut the egge i'th' middle and eate vp the
meate, the two Crownes of the egge: when thou clouest thy Crownes i'th'
middle, and gau'st away both parts, thou boar'st thine Asse on thy
backe o're the durt, thou hadst little wit in thy bald crowne, when
thou gau'st thy golden one away; if I speake like my selfe in this, let
him be whipt that first findes it so. Fooles had nere lesse grace in a
yeere,

For wisemen are growne foppish,

And know not how their wits to weare,

Their manners are so apish

Le. When were you wont to be so full of Songs sirrah?   Foole. I
haue vsed it Nunckle, ere since thou mad'st thy Daughters thy Mothers,
for when thou gau'st them the rod, and put'st downe thine owne
breeches, then they For sodaine ioy did weepe,

And I for sorrow sung,

That such a King should play bo-peepe,

And goe the Foole among.

Pry'thy Nunckle keepe a Schoolemaster that can teach thy Foole to lie,
I would faine learne to lie

Lear. And you lie sirrah, wee'l haue you whipt

Foole. I maruell what kin thou and thy daughters are, they'l haue me
whipt for speaking true: thou'lt haue me whipt for lying, and sometimes
I am whipt for holding my peace. I had rather be any kind o' thing then
a foole, and yet I would not be thee Nunckle, thou hast pared thy wit
o' both sides, and left nothing i'th' middle; heere comes one o'the
parings.

Enter Gonerill.

Lear. How now Daughter? what makes that Frontlet on? You are too much
of late i'th' frowne

Foole. 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 then thou
art now, I am a Foole, thou art nothing. Yes forsooth I will hold my
tongue, so your face bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum, he that
keepes nor crust, nor crum, Weary of all, shall want some. That's a
sheal'd Pescod

Gon. Not only Sir this, your all-lycenc'd Foole, But other of your
insolent retinue

Do hourely Carpe and Quarrell, breaking forth In ranke, and (not to be
endur'd) riots Sir. I had thought by making this well knowne vnto you,
To haue found a safe redresse, but now grow fearefull By what your
selfe too late haue 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 sleepe, Which in the tender of a
wholesome weale, Mighty in their working do you that offence, Which
else were shame, that then necessitie Will call discreet proceeding

Foole. For you know Nunckle, 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

Lear. Are you our Daughter?

Gon. I would you would make vse of your good wisedome (Whereof I know
you are fraught), and put away These dispositions, which of late
transport you From what you rightly are

Foole. May not an Asse know, when the Cart drawes the Horse?

Whoop Iugge I loue thee

Lear. Do's any heere know me?

This is not Lear:

Do's Lear walke thus? Speake thus? Where are his eies? Either his
Notion weakens, his Discernings Are Lethargied. Ha! Waking? 'Tis not
so?

Who is it that can tell me who I am?

Foole. Lears shadow

Lear. Your name, faire Gentlewoman?

Gon. This admiration Sir, is much o'th' sauour Of other your new
prankes. I do beseech you To vnderstand my purposes aright:

As you are Old, and Reuerend, should be Wise. Heere do you keepe a
hundred Knights and Squires, Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd and bold,

That this our Court infected with their manners, Shewes like a riotous
Inne; Epicurisme and Lust Makes it more like a Tauerne, or a Brothell,
Then a grac'd Pallace. The shame it selfe doth speake For instant
remedy. Be then desir'd

By her, that else will take the thing she begges, A little to
disquantity your Traine,

And the remainders that shall still depend, To be such men as may
besort your Age,

Which know themselues, and you

Lear. Darknesse, and Diuels.

Saddle my horses: call my Traine together. Degenerate Bastard, Ile not
trouble thee; Yet haue I left a daughter

Gon. You strike my people, and your disorder'd rable, make Seruants
of their Betters.

Enter Albany.

Lear. Woe, that too late repents:

Is it your will, speake Sir? Prepare my Horses. Ingratitude! thou
Marble-hearted Fiend,

More hideous when thou shew'st thee in a Child, Then the Sea-monster

Alb. Pray Sir be patient

Lear. Detested Kite, thou lyest.

My Traine are men of choice, and rarest parts, That all particulars of
dutie know,

And in the most exact regard, support

The worships of their name. O most small fault, How vgly did'st thou in
Cordelia shew?

Which like an Engine, wrencht my frame of Nature From the fixt place:
drew from my heart all loue, And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!
Beate at this gate that let thy Folly in, And thy deere Iudgement out.
Go, go, my people

Alb. My Lord, I am guiltlesse, as I am ignorant Of what hath moued
you

Lear. It may be so, my Lord.

Heare Nature, heare deere Goddesse, heare: Suspend thy purpose, if thou
did'st intend To make this Creature fruitfull:

Into her Wombe conuey stirrility,

Drie vp in her the Organs of increase,

And from her derogate body, neuer spring

A Babe to honor her. If she must teeme,

Create her childe of Spleene, that it may liue And be a thwart
disnatur'd torment to her. Let it stampe wrinkles in her brow of youth,
With cadent Teares fret Channels in her cheekes, Turne all her Mothers
paines, and benefits To laughter, and contempt: That she may feele, How
sharper then a Serpents tooth it is,

To haue a thanklesse Childe. Away, away.

Enter.

Alb. Now Gods that we adore,

Whereof comes this?

Gon. Neuer afflict your selfe to know more of it: But let his
disposition haue that scope

As dotage giues it.

Enter Lear.

Lear. What fiftie of my Followers at a clap? Within a fortnight?

Alb. What's the matter, Sir?

Lear. Ile tell thee:

Life and death, I am asham'd

That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus, That these hot teares,
which breake from me perforce Should make thee worth them.

Blastes and Fogges vpon thee:

Th' vntented woundings of a Fathers curse Pierce euerie sense about
thee. Old fond eyes, Beweepe this cause againe, Ile plucke ye out, And
cast you with the waters that you loose To temper Clay. Ha? Let it be
so.

I haue another daughter,

Who I am sure is kinde and comfortable:

When she shall heare this of thee, with her nailes Shee'l flea thy
Woluish visage. Thou shalt finde, That Ile resume the shape which thou
dost thinke I haue cast off for euer.

Exit

Gon. Do you marke that?

Alb. I cannot be so partiall Gonerill,

To the great loue I beare you

Gon. Pray you content. What Oswald, hoa? You Sir, more Knaue then
Foole, after your Master

Foole. Nunkle Lear, Nunkle Lear,

Tarry, take the Foole 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 Foole followes after.

Exit

Gon. This man hath had good Counsell,

A hundred Knights?

'Tis politike, and safe to let him keepe

At point a hundred Knights: yes, that on euerie dreame, Each buz, each
fancie, each complaint, dislike, He may enguard his dotage with their
powres, And hold our liues in mercy. Oswald, I say

Alb. Well, you may feare too farre

Gon. Safer then trust too farre;

Let me still take away the harmes I feare, Not feare still to be taken.
I know his heart, What he hath vtter'd I haue writ my Sister: If she
sustaine him, and his hundred Knights When I haue shew'd th'
vnfitnesse.

Enter Steward.

How now Oswald?

What haue you writ that Letter to my Sister?   Stew. I Madam

Gon. Take you some company, and away to horse, Informe her full of
my particular feare,

And thereto adde such reasons of your owne, As may compact it more. Get
you gone,

And hasten your returne; no, no, my Lord, This milky gentlenesse, and
course of yours Though I condemne not, yet vnder pardon

You are much more at task for want of wisedome, Then prais'd for
harmefull mildnesse

Alb. How farre your eies may pierce I cannot tell; Striuing to
better, oft we marre what's well

Gon. Nay then-

Alb. Well, well, th' euent.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.



Enter Lear, Kent, Gentleman, and Foole.

Lear. Go you before to Gloster with these Letters; acquaint my
Daughter no further with any thing you know, then comes from her demand
out of the Letter, if your Dilligence be not speedy, I shall be there
afore you

Kent. I will not sleepe my Lord, till I haue deliuered your Letter.

Enter.

Foole. If a mans braines were in's heeles, wert not in danger of
kybes?

Lear. I Boy

Foole. Then I prythee be merry, thy wit shall not go slip-shod

Lear. Ha, ha, ha

Fool. Shalt see thy other Daughter will vse thee kindly, for though
she's as like this, as a Crabbe's like an Apple, yet I can tell what I
can tell

Lear. What can'st tell Boy?

Foole. She will taste as like this as, a Crabbe do's to a Crab: thou
canst, tell why ones nose stands i'th' middle on's face?

Lear. No

Foole. Why to keepe ones eyes of either side 's nose, that what a
man cannot smell out, he may spy into

Lear. I did her wrong

Foole. Can'st tell how an Oyster makes his shell?   Lear. No

Foole. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a Snaile ha's a house

Lear. Why?

Foole. Why to put's head in, not to giue it away to his daughters,
and leaue his hornes without a case

Lear. I will forget my Nature, so kind a Father? Be my Horsses
ready?

Foole. Thy Asses are gone about 'em; the reason why the seuen Starres
are no mo then seuen, is a pretty reason

Lear. Because they are not eight

Foole. Yes indeed, thou would'st make a good Foole

Lear. To tak't againe perforce; Monster Ingratitude!   Foole. If
thou wert my Foole Nunckle, Il'd haue thee beaten for being old before
thy time

Lear. How's that?

Foole. Thou shouldst not haue bin old, till thou hadst bin wise

Lear. O let me not be mad, not mad sweet Heauen: keepe me in temper,
I would not be mad. How now are the Horses ready?

Gent. Ready my Lord

Lear. Come Boy

Fool. She that's a Maid now, & laughs at my departure, Shall not be
a Maid long, vnlesse things be cut shorter.

Exeunt.



Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Bastard, and Curan, seuerally.

Bast. Saue thee Curan

Cur. And you Sir, I haue bin

With your Father, and giuen him notice

That the Duke of Cornwall, and Regan his Duchesse Will be here with him
this night

Bast. How comes that?

Cur. Nay I know not, you haue heard of the newes abroad, I meane the
whisper'd ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments

Bast. Not I: pray you what are they?

Cur. Haue you heard of no likely Warres toward, 'Twixt the Dukes of
Cornwall, and Albany?   Bast. Not a word

Cur. You may do then in time,

Fare you well Sir.

Enter.

Bast. The Duke be here to night? The better best, This weaues it
selfe perforce into my businesse, My Father hath set guard to take my
Brother, And I haue one thing of a queazie question Which I must act,
Briefenesse, and Fortune worke. Enter Edgar.

Brother, a word, discend; Brother I say,

My Father watches: O Sir, fly this place, Intelligence is giuen where
you are hid;

You haue now the good aduantage of the night, Haue you not spoken
'gainst the Duke of Cornewall? Hee's comming hither, now i'th' night,
i'th' haste, And Regan with him, haue you nothing said Vpon his partie
'gainst the Duke of Albany? Aduise your selfe

Edg. I am sure on't, not a word

Bast. I heare my Father comming, pardon me: In cunning, I must draw
my Sword vpon you: Draw, seeme to defend your selfe,

Now quit you well.

Yeeld, come before my Father, light hoa, here, Fly Brother, Torches,
Torches, so farewell.

Exit Edgar.

Some blood drawne on me, would beget opinion Of my more fierce
endeauour. I haue seene drunkards Do more then this in sport; Father,
Father, Stop, stop, no helpe?

Enter Gloster, and Seruants with Torches.

Glo. Now Edmund, where's the villaine?

Bast. Here stood he in the dark, his sharpe Sword out, Mumbling of
wicked charmes, coniuring the Moone To stand auspicious Mistris

Glo. But where is he?

Bast. Looke Sir, I bleed

Glo. Where is the villaine, Edmund?

Bast. Fled this way Sir, when by no meanes he could

Glo. Pursue him, ho: go after. By no meanes, what?   Bast. Perswade
me to the murther of your Lordship, But that I told him the reuenging
Gods,

'Gainst Paricides did all the thunder bend, Spoke with how manifold,
and strong a Bond The Child was bound to'th' Father; Sir in fine,
Seeing how lothly opposite I stood

To his vnnaturall purpose, in fell motion With his prepared Sword, he
charges home

My vnprouided body, latch'd mine arme;

And when he saw my best alarum'd spirits

Bold in the quarrels right, rouz'd to th' encounter, Or whether gasted
by the noyse I made,

Full sodainely he fled

Glost. Let him fly farre:

Not in this Land shall he remaine vncaught And found; dispatch, the
Noble Duke my Master, My worthy Arch and Patron comes to night, By his
authoritie I will proclaime it,

That he which finds him shall deserue our thankes, Bringing the
murderous Coward to the stake: He that conceales him death

Bast. When I disswaded him from his intent, And found him pight to
doe it, with curst speech I threaten'd to discouer him; he replied,
Thou vnpossessing Bastard, dost thou thinke, If I would stand against
thee, would the reposall Of any trust, vertue, or worth in thee

Make thy words faith'd? No, what should I denie, (As this I would,
though thou didst produce My very Character) I'ld turne 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 potentiall spirits To make thee seeke it.

Tucket within.

Glo. O strange and fastned Villaine,

Would he deny his Letter, said he?

Harke, the Dukes Trumpets, I know not wher he comes; All Ports Ile
barre, the villaine shall not scape, The Duke must grant me that:
besides, his picture I will send farre and neere, that all the kingdome
May haue due note of him, and of my land, (Loyall and naturall Boy) Ile
worke the meanes To make thee capable.

Enter Cornewall, Regan, and Attendants.

Corn. How now my Noble friend, since I came hither (Which I can call
but now,) I haue heard strangenesse

Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short Which can pursue
th' offender; how dost my Lord?   Glo. O Madam, my old heart is
crack'd, it's crack'd

Reg. What, did my Fathers Godsonne seeke your life? He whom my
Father nam'd, your Edgar?

Glo. O Lady, Lady, shame would haue it hid

Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous Knights That tended vpon
my Father?

Glo. I know not Madam, 'tis too bad, too bad

Bast. Yes Madam, he was of that consort

Reg. No maruaile then, though he were ill affected, 'Tis they haue
put him on the old mans death, To haue th' expence and wast of his
Reuenues: I haue this present euening from my Sister Beene well
inform'd of them, and with such cautions, That if they come to soiourne
at my house, Ile not be there

Cor. Nor I, assure thee Regan;

Edmund, I heare that you haue shewne your Father A Child-like Office

Bast. It was my duty Sir

Glo. He did bewray his practise, and receiu'd This hurt you see,
striuing to apprehend him

Cor. Is he pursued?

Glo. I my good Lord

Cor. If he be taken, he shall neuer more Be fear'd of doing harme,
make your owne purpose, How in my strength you please: for you Edmund,
Whose vertue and obedience doth this instant So much commend it selfe,
you shall be ours, Nature's of such deepe trust, we shall much need:
You we first seize on

Bast. I shall serue you Sir truely, how euer else

Glo. For him I thanke your Grace

Cor. You know not why we came to visit you?   Reg. Thus out of
season, thredding darke ey'd night, Occasions Noble Gloster of some
prize,

Wherein we must haue vse of your aduise.

Our Father he hath writ, so hath our Sister, Of differences, which I
best thought it fit To answere from our home: the seuerall Messengers
From hence attend dispatch, our good old Friend, Lay comforts to your
bosome, and bestow

Your needfull counsaile to our businesses, Which craues the instant
vse

Glo. I serue you Madam,

Your Graces are right welcome.

Exeunt. Flourish.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Kent, and Steward seuerally.

Stew. Good dawning to thee Friend, art of this house?   Kent. I

Stew. Where may we set our horses?

Kent. I'th' myre

Stew. Prythee, if thou lou'st me, tell me

Kent. I loue thee not

Ste. Why then I care not for thee

Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury Pinfold, I would make thee care for
me

Ste. Why do'st thou vse me thus? I know thee not

Kent. Fellow I know thee

Ste. What do'st thou know me for?

Kent. A Knaue, a Rascall, an eater of broken meates, a base, proud,
shallow, beggerly, three-suited-hundred pound, filthy woosted-stocking
knaue, a Lilly-liuered, action-taking, whoreson glasse-gazing
super-seruiceable finicall Rogue, one Trunke-inheriting slaue, one that
would'st be a Baud in way of good seruice, and art nothing but the
composition of a Knaue, Begger, Coward, Pandar, and the Sonne and Heire
of a Mungrill Bitch, one whom I will beate into clamours whining, if
thou deny'st the least sillable of thy addition

Stew. Why, what a monstrous Fellow art thou, thus to raile on one,
that is neither knowne of thee, nor knowes thee?

Kent. What a brazen-fac'd Varlet art thou, to deny thou knowest me?
Is it two dayes since I tript vp thy heeles, and beate thee before the
King? Draw you rogue, for though it be night, yet the Moone shines, Ile
make a sop oth' Moonshine of you, you whoreson Cullyenly Barber-monger,
draw

Stew. Away, I haue nothing to do with thee

Kent. Draw you Rascall, you come with Letters against the King, and
take Vanitie the puppets part, against the Royaltie of her Father: draw
you Rogue, or Ile so carbonado your shanks, draw you Rascall, come your
waies

Ste. Helpe, ho, murther, helpe

Kent. Strike you slaue: stand rogue, stand you neat slaue, strike

Stew. Helpe hoa, murther, murther.

Enter Bastard, Cornewall, Regan, Gloster, Seruants.

Bast. How now, what's the matter? Part

Kent. With you goodman Boy, if you please, come, Ile flesh ye, come
on yong Master

Glo. Weapons? Armes? what's the matter here?   Cor. Keepe peace vpon
your liues, he dies that strikes againe, what is the matter?

Reg. The Messengers from our Sister, and the King?   Cor. What is
your difference, speake?

Stew. I am scarce in breath my Lord

Kent. No Maruell, you haue so bestir'd your valour, you cowardly
Rascall, nature disclaimes in thee: a Taylor made thee

Cor. Thou art a strange fellow, a Taylor make a man?   Kent. A
Taylor Sir, a Stone-cutter, or a Painter, could not haue made him so
ill, though they had bin but two yeares oth' trade

Cor. Speake yet, how grew your quarrell?   Ste. This ancient Ruffian
Sir, whose life I haue spar'd at sute of his gray-beard

Kent. Thou whoreson Zed, thou vnnecessary letter: my Lord, if you
will giue me leaue, I will tread this vnboulted villaine into morter,
and daube the wall of a Iakes with him. Spare my gray-beard, you
wagtaile?   Cor. Peace sirrah,

You beastly knaue, know you no reuerence?   Kent. Yes Sir, but anger
hath a priuiledge

Cor. Why art thou angrie?

Kent. That such a slaue as this should weare a Sword, Who weares no
honesty: such smiling rogues as these, Like Rats oft bite the holy
cords a twaine, Which are t' intrince, t' vnloose: smooth euery passion
That in the natures of their Lords rebell, Being oile to fire, snow to
the colder moodes, Reuenge, affirme, and turne their Halcion beakes
With euery gall, and varry of their Masters, Knowing naught (like
dogges) but following: A plague vpon your Epilepticke visage,

Smoile you my speeches, as I were a Foole? Goose, if I had you vpon
Sarum Plaine,

I'ld driue ye cackling home to Camelot

Corn. What art thou mad old Fellow?

Glost. How fell you out, say that?

Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy, Then I, and such a knaue

Corn. Why do'st thou call him Knaue?

What is his fault?

Kent. His countenance likes me not

Cor. No more perchance do's mine, nor his, nor hers

Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plaine, I haue seene better
faces in my Time,

Then stands on any shoulder that I see

Before me, at this instant

Corn. This is some Fellow,

Who hauing beene prais'd for bluntnesse, doth affect A saucy roughnes,
and constraines the garb Quite from his Nature. He cannot flatter he,
An honest mind and plaine, he must speake truth, And they will take it
so, if not, hee's plaine. These kind of Knaues I know, which in this
plainnesse Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends, Then twenty
silly-ducking obseruants,

That stretch their duties nicely

Kent. Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity, Vnder th' allowance of
your great aspect, Whose influence like the wreath of radient fire On
flickring Phoebus front

Corn. 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 beguild you in a plaine accent, was a
plaine Knaue, which for my part I will not be, though I should win your
displeasure to entreat me too't

Corn. What was th' offence you gaue him?   Ste. I neuer gaue him
any:

It pleas'd the King his Master very late

To strike at me vpon his misconstruction, When he compact, and
flattering his displeasure Tript me behind: being downe, insulted,
rail'd, And put vpon him such a deale of Man,

That worthied him, got praises of the King, For him attempting, who was
selfe-subdued, And in the fleshment of this dead exploit, Drew on me
here againe

Kent. None of these Rogues, and Cowards But Aiax is there Foole

Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks?

You stubborne ancient Knaue, you reuerent Bragart, Wee'l teach you

Kent. Sir, I am too old to learne:

Call not your Stocks for me, I serue the King. On whose imployment I
was sent to you,

You shall doe small respects, show too bold malice Against the Grace,
and Person of my Master, Stocking his Messenger

Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks;

As I haue life and Honour, there shall he sit till Noone

Reg. Till noone? till night my Lord, and all night too

Kent. Why Madam, if I were your Fathers dog, You should not vse me
so

Reg. Sir, being his Knaue, I will.

Stocks brought out.

Cor. This is a Fellow of the selfe same colour, Our Sister speakes
of. Come, bring away the Stocks

Glo. Let me beseech your Grace, not to do so, The King his Master,
needs must take it ill That he so slightly valued in his Messenger,
Should haue him thus restrained

Cor. Ile answere that

Reg. My Sister may recieue it much more worsse, To haue her
Gentleman abus'd, assaulted

Corn. Come my Lord, away.

Enter.

Glo. I am sorry for thee friend, 'tis the Dukes pleasure, Whose
disposition all the world well knowes Will not be rub'd nor stopt, Ile
entreat for thee

Kent. Pray do not Sir, I haue watch'd and trauail'd hard, Some time
I shall sleepe out, the rest Ile whistle: A good mans fortune may grow
out at heeles: Giue you good morrow

Glo. The Duke's too blame in this,

'Twill be ill taken.

Enter.

Kent. Good King, that must approue the common saw, Thou out of
Heauens benediction com'st

To the warme Sun.

Approach thou Beacon to this vnder Globe, That by thy comfortable
Beames I may

Peruse this Letter. Nothing almost sees miracles But miserie. I know
'tis from Cordelia,

Who hath most fortunately beene inform'd

Of my obscured course. And shall finde time From this enormous State,
seeking to giue Losses their remedies. All weary and o're-watch'd, Take
vantage heauie eyes, not to behold

This shamefull lodging. Fortune goodnight, Smile once more, turne thy
wheele.

Enter Edgar.

Edg. I heard my selfe proclaim'd,

And by the happy hollow of a Tree,

Escap'd the hunt. No Port is free, no place That guard, and most
vnusall vigilance

Do's not attend my taking. Whiles I may scape I will preserue myselfe:
and am bethought To take the basest, and most poorest shape That euer
penury in contempt of man,

Brought neere to beast; my face Ile grime with filth, Blanket my
loines, else all my haires in knots, And with presented nakednesse
out-face

The Windes, and persecutions of the skie; The Country giues me proofe,
and president Of Bedlam beggers, who with roaring voices, Strike in
their num'd and mortified Armes. Pins, Wodden-prickes, Nayles, Sprigs
of Rosemarie: And with this horrible obiect, from low Farmes, Poore
pelting Villages, Sheeps-Coates, and Milles, Sometimes with Lunaticke
bans, sometime with Praiers Inforce their charitie: poore Turlygod
poore Tom, That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am. Enter.

Enter Lear, Foole, and Gentleman.

Lea. 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home, And not send
backe my Messengers

Gent. As I learn'd,

The night before, there was no purpose in them Of this remoue

Kent. Haile to thee Noble Master

Lear. Ha? Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime?   Kent. No my Lord

Foole. Hah, ha, he weares Cruell Garters Horses are tide by the
heads, Dogges and Beares by'th' necke, Monkies by'th' loynes, and Men
by'th' legs: when a man ouerlustie at legs, then he weares wodden
nether-stocks

Lear. What's he,

That hath so much thy place mistooke

To set thee heere?

Kent. It is both he and she,

Your Son, and Daughter

Lear. No

Kent. Yes

Lear. No I say

Kent. I say yea

Lear. By Iupiter I sweare no

Kent. By Iuno, I sweare I

Lear. They durst not do't:

They could not, would not do't: 'tis worse then murther, To do vpon
respect such violent outrage:

Resolue me with all modest haste, which way Thou might'st deserue, or
they impose this vsage, Comming from vs

Kent. My Lord, when at their home

I did commend your Highnesse Letters to them, Ere I was risen from the
place, that shewed My dutie kneeling, came there a reeking Poste,
Stew'd in his haste, halfe breathlesse, painting forth From Gonerill
his Mistris, salutations;

Deliuer'd Letters spight of intermission, Which presently they read; on
those contents They summon'd vp their meiney, straight tooke Horse,
Commanded me to follow, and attend

The leisure of their answer, gaue me cold lookes, And meeting heere the
other Messenger,

Whose welcome I perceiu'd had poison'd mine, Being the very fellow
which of late

Displaid so sawcily against your Highnesse, Hauing more man then wit
about me, drew;

He rais'd the house, with loud and coward cries, Your Sonne and
Daughter found this trespasse worth The shame which heere it suffers

Foole. Winters not gon yet, if the wil'd Geese fly that way, Fathers
that weare rags, do make their Children blind, But Fathers that beare
bags, shall see their children kind. Fortune that arrant whore, nere
turns the key toth' poore. But for all this thou shalt haue as many
Dolors for thy Daughters, as thou canst tell in a yeare

Lear. Oh how this Mother swels vp toward my heart! Historica passio,
downe thou climing sorrow, Thy Elements below where is this Daughter?
Kent. With the Earle Sir, here within

Lear. Follow me not, stay here.

Enter.

Gen. Made you no more offence,

But what you speake of?

Kent. None:

How chance the King comes with so small a number?   Foole. And thou
hadst beene set i'th' Stockes for that question, thoud'st well deseru'd
it

Kent. Why Foole?

Foole. Wee'l set thee to schoole to an Ant, to teach thee ther's no
labouring i'th' winter. All that follow their noses, are led by their
eyes, but blinde men, and there's not a nose among twenty, but can
smell him that's stinking; let go thy hold when a great wheele runs
downe a hill, least it breake thy necke with following. But the great
one that goes vpward, let him draw thee after: when a wiseman giues
thee better counsell giue me mine againe, I would haue none but knaues
follow it, since a Foole giues it.

That Sir, which serues and seekes for gaine, And followes but for
forme;

Will packe, when it begins to raine,

And leaue thee in the storme,

But I will tarry, the Foole will stay,

And let the wiseman flie:

The knaue turnes Foole that runnes away,

The Foole no knaue perdie.

Enter Lear, and Gloster] :

Kent. Where learn'd you this Foole?

Foole. Not i'th' Stocks Foole

Lear. Deny to speake with me?

They are sicke, they are weary,

They haue trauail'd all the night? meere fetches, The images of reuolt
and flying off.

Fetch me a better answer

Glo. My deere Lord,

You know the fiery quality of the Duke,

How vnremoueable and fixt he is

In his owne course

Lear. Vengeance, Plague, Death, Confusion: Fiery? What quality? Why
Gloster, Gloster, I'ld speake with the Duke of Cornewall, and his wife

Glo. Well my good Lord, I haue inform'd them so

Lear. Inform'd them? Do'st thou vnderstand me man

Glo. I my good Lord

Lear. The King would speake with Cornwall, The deere Father

Would with his Daughter speake, commands, tends, seruice, 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 our selues, When Nature being
opprest, commands the mind To suffer with the body; Ile forbeare,

And am fallen out with my more headier will, To take the indispos'd and
sickly fit,

For the sound man. Death on my state: wherefore Should he sit heere?
This act perswades me, That this remotion of the Duke and her

Is practise only. Giue me my Seruant forth; Goe tell the Duke, and's
wife, Il'd speake with them: Now, presently: bid them come forth and
heare me, Or at their Chamber doore Ile beate the Drum, Till it crie
sleepe to death

Glo. I would haue all well betwixt you. Enter.

Lear. Oh me my heart! My rising heart! But downe

Foole. Cry to it Nunckle, as the Cockney did to the Eeles, when she
put 'em i'th' Paste aliue, she knapt 'em o'th' coxcombs with a sticke,
and cryed downe wantons, downe; 'twas her Brother, that in pure
kindnesse to his Horse buttered his Hay.

Enter Cornewall, Regan, Gloster, Seruants.

Lear. Good morrow to you both

Corn. Haile to your Grace.

Kent here set at liberty.

Reg. I am glad to see your Highnesse

Lear. Regan, I thinke you are. I know what reason I haue to thinke
so, if thou should'st not be glad, I would diuorce me from thy Mother
Tombe, Sepulchring an Adultresse. O are you free? Some other time for
that. Beloued Regan,

Thy Sisters naught: oh Regan, she hath tied Sharpe-tooth'd vnkindnesse,
like a vulture heere, I can scarce speake to thee, thou'lt not beleeue
With how deprau'd a quality. Oh Regan

Reg. I pray you Sir, take patience, I haue hope You lesse know how
to value her desert,

Then she to scant her dutie

Lear. Say? How is that?

Reg. I cannot thinke my Sister in the least Would faile her
Obligation. If Sir perchance She haue restrained the Riots of your
Followres, 'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, As cleeres
her from all blame

Lear. My curses on her

Reg. O Sir, you are old,

Nature in you stands on the very Verge

Of his confine: you should be rul'd, and led By some discretion, that
discernes your state Better then you your selfe: therefore I pray you,
That to our Sister, you do make returne,

Say you haue wrong'd her

Lear. Aske her forgiuenesse?

Do you but marke how this becomes the house? Deere daughter, I confesse
that I am old; Age is vnnecessary: on my knees I begge,

That you'l vouchsafe me Rayment, Bed, and Food

Reg. Good Sir, no more: these are vnsightly trickes: Returne you to
my Sister

Lear. Neuer Regan:

She hath abated me of halfe my Traine;

Look'd blacke vpon me, strooke me with her Tongue Most Serpent-like,
vpon the very Heart.

All the stor'd Vengeances of Heauen, fall On her ingratefull top:
strike her yong bones You taking Ayres, with Lamenesse

Corn. Fye sir, fie

Le. You nimble Lightnings, dart your blinding flames Into her
scornfull eyes: Infect her Beauty, You Fen-suck'd Fogges, drawne by the
powrfull Sunne, To fall, and blister

Reg. O the blest Gods!

So will you wish on me, when the rash moode is on

Lear. No Regan, thou shalt neuer haue my curse: Thy tender-hefted
Nature shall not giue

Thee o're to harshnesse: Her eyes are fierce, but thine Do comfort, and
not burne. 'Tis not in thee To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my
Traine, To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,

And in conclusion, to oppose the bolt

Against my comming in. Thou better know'st The Offices of Nature, bond
of Childhood, Effects of Curtesie, dues of Gratitude:

Thy halfe o'th' Kingdome hast thou not forgot, Wherein I thee endow'd

Reg. Good Sir, to'th' purpose.

Tucket within.

Lear. Who put my man i'th' Stockes?

Enter Steward.

Corn. What Trumpet's that?

Reg. I know't, my Sisters: this approues her Letter, That she would
soone be heere. Is your Lady come?   Lear. This is a Slaue, whose easie
borrowed pride Dwels in the sickly grace of her he followes. Out
Varlet, from my sight

Corn. What meanes your Grace?

Enter Gonerill.

Lear. Who stockt my Seruant? Regan, I haue good hope Thou did'st not
know on't.

Who comes here? O Heauens!

If you do loue old men; if your sweet sway Allow Obedience; if you your
selues are old, Make it your cause: Send downe, and take my part. Art
not asham'd to looke vpon this Beard? O Regan, will you take her by the
hand?

Gon. Why not by'th' hand Sir? How haue I offended? All's not offence
that indiscretion findes, And dotage termes so

Lear. O sides, you are too tough!

Will you yet hold?

How came my man i'th' Stockes?

Corn. I set him there, Sir: but his owne Disorders Deseru'd much
lesse aduancement

Lear. You? Did you?

Reg. I pray you Father being weake, seeme so. If till the expiration
of your Moneth

You will returne and soiourne with my Sister, Dismissing halfe your
traine, come then to me, I am now from home, and out of that prouision
Which shall be needfull for your entertainement

Lear. Returne to her? and fifty men dismiss'd? No, rather I abiure
all roofes, and chuse To wage against the enmity oth' ayre,

To be a Comrade with the Wolfe, and Owle, Necessities sharpe pinch.
Returne with her? Why the hot-bloodied France, that dowerlesse tooke
Our yongest borne, I could as well be brought To knee his Throne, and
Squire-like pension beg, To keepe base life a foote; returne with her?
Perswade me rather to be slaue and sumpter To this detested groome

Gon. At your choice Sir

Lear. I prythee Daughter do not make me mad, I will not trouble thee
my Child; farewell: Wee'l no more meete, 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 Byle, A plague sore, or
imbossed Carbuncle

In my corrupted blood. But Ile not chide thee, Let shame come when it
will, I do not call it, I do not bid the Thunder-bearer shoote,

Nor tell tales of thee to high-iudging Ioue, Mend when thou can'st, be
better at thy leisure, I can be patient, I can stay with Regan,

I and my hundred Knights

Reg. Not altogether so,

I look'd not for you yet, nor am prouided For your fit welcome, giue
eare Sir to my Sister, For those that mingle reason with your passion,
Must be content to thinke you old, and so, But she knowes what she
doe's

Lear. Is this well spoken?

Reg. I dare auouch 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, Speake 'gainst so great a number? How in one house Should many
people, vnder two commands

Hold amity? 'Tis hard, almost impossible

Gon. Why might not you my Lord, receiue attendance From those that
she cals Seruants, or from mine?   Reg. Why not my Lord?

If then they chanc'd to slacke ye,

We could comptroll them; if you will come to me, (For now I spie a
danger) I entreate you

To bring but fiue and twentie, to no more Will I giue place or notice

Lear. I gaue you all

Reg. And in good time you gaue it

Lear. Made you my Guardians, my Depositaries, But kept a reseruation
to be followed

With such a number? What, must I come to you With fiue and twenty?
Regan, said you so?   Reg. And speak't againe my Lord, no more with me

Lea. Those wicked Creatures yet do look wel fauor'd When others are
more wicked, not being the worst Stands in some ranke of praise, Ile go
with thee, Thy fifty yet doth double fiue and twenty, And thou art
twice her Loue

Gon. Heare me my Lord;

What need you fiue and twenty? Ten? Or fiue? To follow in a house,
where twice so many Haue a command to tend you?

Reg. What need one?

Lear. O reason not the need: our basest Beggers Are in the poorest
thing superfluous.

Allow not Nature, more then Nature needs: Mans life is cheape as
Beastes. Thou art a Lady; If onely to go warme were gorgeous,

Why Nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, Which scarcely keepes
thee warme, but for true need: You Heauens, giue me that patience,
patience I need, You see me heere (you Gods) a poore old man, As full
of griefe as age, wretched in both, If it be you that stirres these
Daughters hearts Against their Father, foole me not so much, To beare
it tamely: touch me with Noble anger, And let not womens weapons, water
drops,

Staine my mans cheekes. No you vnnaturall Hags, I will haue such
reuenges on you both,

That all the world shall- I will do such things, What they are yet, I
know not, but they shalbe The terrors of the earth? you thinke Ile
weepe, No, Ile not weepe, I haue full cause of weeping.

Storme and Tempest.

But this heart shal break into a hundred thousand flawes Or ere Ile
weepe; O Foole, I shall go mad.

Exeunt.

Corn. Let vs withdraw, 'twill be a Storme

Reg. This house is little, the old man and's people, Cannot be well
bestow'd

Gon. 'Tis his owne blame hath put himselfe from rest, And must needs
taste his folly

Reg. For his particular, Ile receiue him gladly, But not one
follower

Gon. So am I purpos'd,

Where is my Lord of Gloster?

Enter Gloster.

Corn. Followed the old man forth, he is return'd

Glo. The King is in high rage

Corn. Whether is he going?

Glo. He cals to Horse, but will I know not whether

Corn. 'Tis best to giue him way, he leads himselfe

Gon. My Lord, entreate him by no meanes to stay

Glo. Alacke the night comes on, and the high windes Do sorely
ruffle, for many Miles about

There's scarce a Bush

Reg. O Sir, to wilfull men,

The iniuries that they themselues procure, Must be their
Schoole-Masters: shut vp your doores, He is attended with a desperate
traine,

And what they may incense him too, being apt, To haue his eare abus'd,
wisedome bids feare

Cor. Shut vp your doores my Lord, 'tis a wil'd night, My Regan
counsels well: come out oth' storme.

Exeunt.



Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Storme still. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, seuerally.

Kent. Who's there besides foule weather?   Gen. One minded like the
weather, most vnquietly

Kent. I know you: Where's the King?

Gent. Contending with the fretfull Elements; Bids the winde blow the
Earth into the Sea, Or swell the curled Waters 'boue the Maine, That
things might change, or cease

Kent. But who is with him?

Gent. None but the Foole, who labours to out-iest His heart-strooke
iniuries

Kent. Sir, I do know you,

And dare vpon the warrant of my note

Commend a deere thing to you. There is diuision (Although as yet the
face of it is couer'd With mutuall cunning) 'twixt Albany, and
Cornwall: Who haue, as who haue not, that their great Starres Thron'd
and set high; Seruants, who seeme no lesse, Which are to France the
Spies and Speculations Intelligent of our State. What hath bin seene,
Either in snuffes, and packings of the Dukes, Or the hard Reine which
both of them hath borne Against the old kinde King; or something
deeper, Whereof (perchance) these are but furnishings

Gent. I will talke further with you

Kent. No, do not:

For confirmation that I am much more

Then my out-wall; open this Purse, and take What it containes. If you
shall see Cordelia, (As feare not but you shall) shew her this Ring,
And she will tell you who that Fellow is

That yet you do not know. Fye on this Storme, I will go seeke the King

Gent. Giue me your hand,

Haue you no more to say?

Kent. Few words, but to effect more then all yet; That when we haue
found the King, in which your pain That way, Ile this: He that first
lights on him, Holla the other.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Storme still. Enter Lear, and Foole.

Lear. Blow windes, & crack your cheeks; Rage, blow You Cataracts, and
Hyrricano's spout,

Till you haue drench'd our Steeples, drown the Cockes. You Sulph'rous
and Thought-executing Fires, Vaunt-curriors of Oake-cleauing
Thunder-bolts, Sindge my white head. And thou all-shaking Thunder,
Strike flat the thicke Rotundity o'th' world, Cracke Natures moulds,
all germaines spill at once That makes ingratefull Man

Foole. O Nunkle, Court holy-water in a dry house, is better then
this Rain-water out o' doore. Good Nunkle, in, aske thy Daughters
blessing, heere's a night pitties neither Wisemen, nor Fooles

Lear. Rumble thy belly full: spit Fire, spowt Raine: Nor Raine,
Winde, Thunder, Fire are my Daughters; I taxe not you, you Elements
with vnkindnesse. I neuer gaue you Kingdome, call'd you Children; You
owe me no subscription. Then let fall Your horrible pleasure. Heere I
stand your Slaue, A poore, infirme, weake, and dispis'd old man: But
yet I call you Seruile Ministers,

That will with two pernicious Daughters ioyne Your high-engender'd
Battailes, 'gainst a head So old, and white as this. O, ho! 'tis foule

Foole. He that has a house to put's head in, has a good Head-peece:

The Codpiece that will house, before the head has any; The Head, and he
shall Lowse: so Beggers marry many. The man y makes his Toe, what he
his Hart shold make, Shall of a Corne cry woe, and turne his sleepe to
wake. For there was neuer yet faire woman, but shee made mouthes in a
glasse.

Enter Kent

Lear. No, I will be the patterne of all patience, I will say
nothing

Kent. Who's there?

Foole. Marry here's Grace, and a Codpiece, that's a Wiseman, and a
Foole

Kent. Alas Sir are you here? Things that loue night, Loue not such
nights as these: The wrathfull Skies Gallow the very wanderers of the
darke

And make them keepe their Caues: Since I was man, Such sheets of Fire,
such bursts of horrid Thunder, Such groanes of roaring Winde, and
Raine, I neuer Remember to haue heard. Mans Nature cannot carry Th'
affliction, nor the feare

Lear. Let the great Goddes

That keepe this dreadfull pudder o're our heads, Finde out their
enemies now. Tremble thou Wretch, That hast within thee vndivulged
Crimes

Vnwhipt of Iustice. Hide thee, thou Bloudy hand; Thou Periur'd, and
thou Simular of Vertue That art Incestuous. Caytiffe, to peeces shake
That vnder couert, and conuenient seeming Ha's practis'd on mans life.
Close pent-vp guilts, Riue your concealing Continents, and cry

These dreadfull Summoners grace. I am a man, More sinn'd against, then
sinning

Kent. Alacke, bare-headed?

Gracious my Lord, hard by heere is a Houell, Some friendship will it
lend you 'gainst the Tempest: Repose you there, while I to this hard
house, (More harder then the stones whereof 'tis rais'd, Which euen but
now, demanding after you,

Deny'd me to come in) returne, and force

Their scanted curtesie

Lear. My wits begin to turne.

Come on my boy. How dost my boy? Art cold? I am cold my selfe. Where is
this straw, my Fellow? The Art of our Necessities is strange,

And can make vilde things precious. Come, your Houel; Poore Foole, and
Knaue, I haue one part in my heart That's sorry yet for thee

Foole. He that has and a little-tyne wit, With heigh-ho, the Winde
and the Raine,

Must make content with his Fortunes fit,

Though the Raine it raineth euery day

Le. True Boy: Come bring vs to this Houell. Enter.

Foole. This is a braue night to coole a Curtizan: Ile speake a
Prophesie ere I go:

When Priests are more in word, then matter; When Brewers marre their
Malt with water; When Nobles are their Taylors Tutors,

No Heretiques burn'd, but wenches Sutors; When euery Case in Law, is
right;

No Squire in debt, nor no poore Knight;

When Slanders do not liue in Tongues;

Nor Cut-purses come not to throngs;

When Vsurers tell their Gold i'th' Field, And Baudes, and whores, do
Churches build, Then shal the Realme of Albion, come to great
confusion: Then comes the time, who liues to see't,

That going shalbe vs'd with feet.

This prophecie Merlin shall make, for I liue before his time. Enter.



Scaena Tertia.

Enter Gloster, and Edmund.

Glo. Alacke, alacke Edmund, I like not this vnnaturall dealing; when
I desired their leaue that I might pity him, they tooke from me the vse
of mine owne house, charg'd me on paine of perpetuall displeasure,
neither to speake of him, entreat for him, or any way sustaine him

Bast. Most sauage and vnnaturall

Glo. Go too; say you nothing. There is diuision betweene the Dukes,
and a worsse matter then that: I haue receiued a Letter this night,
'tis dangerous to be spoken, I haue lock'd the Letter in my Closset,
these iniuries the King now beares, will be reuenged home; ther is part
of a Power already footed, we must incline to the King, I will looke
him, and priuily relieue him; goe you and maintaine talke with the
Duke, that my charity be not of him perceiued; If he aske for me, I am
ill, and gone to bed, if I die for it, (as no lesse is threatned me)
the King my old Master must be relieued. There is strange things toward
Edmund, pray you be carefull.

Enter.

Bast. This Curtesie forbid thee, shall the Duke Instantly know, and
of that Letter too;

This seemes a faire deseruing, and must draw me That which my Father
looses: no lesse then all, The yonger rises, when the old doth fall.
Enter.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Lear, Kent, and Foole.

Kent. Here is the place my Lord, good my Lord enter, The tirrany of
the open night's too rough For Nature to endure.

Storme still

Lear. Let me alone

Kent. Good my Lord enter heere

Lear. Wilt breake my heart?

Kent. I had rather breake mine owne,

Good my Lord enter

Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storme Inuades
vs to the skin so: 'tis to thee,

But where the greater malady is fixt,

The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a Beare, But if thy flight lay
toward the roaring sea, Thou'dst meete the Beare i'th' mouth, when the
mind's free, The bodies delicate: the tempest in my mind, Doth from my
sences take all feeling else, Saue what beates there, Filliall
ingratitude, Is it not as this mouth should teare this hand For lifting
food too't? But I will punish home; No, I will weepe no more; in such a
night, To shut me out? Poure on, I will endure:

In such a night as this? O Regan, Gonerill, Your old kind Father, whose
franke heart gaue all, O that way madnesse lies, let me shun that: No
more of that

Kent. Good my Lord enter here

Lear. Prythee go in thy selfe, seeke thine owne ease, This tempest
will not giue me leaue to ponder On things would hurt me more, but Ile
goe in, In Boy, go first. You houselesse pouertie, Enter.

Nay get thee in; Ile pray, and then Ile sleepe. Poore naked wretches,
where so ere you are That bide the pelting of this pittilesse storme,
How shall your House-lesse heads, and vnfed sides, Your lop'd, and
window'd raggednesse defend you From seasons such as these? O I haue
tane Too little care of this: Take Physicke, Pompe, Expose thy selfe to
feele what wretches feele, That thou maist shake the superflux to them,
And shew the Heauens more iust.

Enter Edgar, and Foole.

Edg. Fathom, and halfe, Fathom and halfe; poore Tom

Foole. Come not in heere Nuncle, here's a spirit, helpe me, helpe
me

Kent. Giue my thy hand, who's there?

Foole. A spirite, a spirite, he sayes his name's poore Tom

Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there i'th' straw? Come forth

Edg. Away, the foule Fiend followes me, through the sharpe Hauthorne
blow the windes. Humh, goe to thy bed and warme thee

Lear. Did'st thou giue all to thy Daughters? And art thou come to
this?

Edgar. Who giues any thing to poore Tom? Whom the foule fiend hath
led through Fire, and through Flame, through Sword, and Whirle-Poole,
o're Bog, and Quagmire, that hath laid Kniues vnder his Pillow, and
Halters in his Pue, set Rats-bane by his Porredge, made him Proud of
heart, to ride on a Bay trotting Horse, ouer foure incht Bridges, to
course his owne shadow for a Traitor. Blisse thy fiue Wits, Toms a
cold. O do, de, do, de, do, de, blisse thee from Whirle-Windes,
Starre-blasting, and taking, do poore Tom some charitie, whom the foule
Fiend vexes. There could I haue him now, and there, and there againe,
and there.

Storme still.

Lear. Ha's his Daughters brought him to this passe? Could'st thou
saue nothing? Would'st thou giue 'em all?   Foole. Nay, he reseru'd a
Blanket, else we had bin all sham'd

Lea. Now all the plagues that in the pendulous ayre Hang fated o're
mens faults, light on thy Daughters

Kent. He hath no Daughters Sir

Lear. Death Traitor, nothing could haue subdu'd Nature To such a
lownesse, but his vnkind Daughters. Is it the fashion, that discarded
Fathers, Should haue thus little mercy on their flesh: Iudicious
punishment, 'twas this flesh begot Those Pelicane Daughters

Edg. Pillicock sat on Pillicock hill, alow: alow, loo, loo

Foole. This cold night will turne vs all to Fooles, and Madmen

Edgar. Take heed o'th' foule Fiend, obey thy Parents, keepe thy
words Iustice, sweare not, commit not, with mans sworne Spouse: set not
thy Sweet-heart on proud array. Tom's a cold

Lear. What hast thou bin?

Edg. A Seruingman? Proud in heart, and minde; that curl'd my haire,
wore Gloues in my cap; seru'd the Lust of my Mistris heart, and did the
acte of darkenesse with her. Swore as many Oathes, as I spake words, &
broke them in the sweet face of Heauen. One, that slept in the
contriuing of Lust, and wak'd to doe it. Wine lou'd I deerely, Dice
deerely; and in Woman, out-Paramour'd the Turke. False of heart, light
of eare, bloody of hand; Hog in sloth, Foxe in stealth, Wolfe in
greedinesse, Dog in madnes, Lyon in prey. Let not the creaking of
shooes, Nor the rustling of Silkes, betray thy poore heart to woman.
Keepe thy foote out of Brothels, thy hand out of Plackets, thy pen from
Lenders Bookes, and defye the foule Fiend. Still through the Hauthorne
blowes the cold winde: Sayes suum, mun, nonny, Dolphin my Boy, Boy
Sesey: let him trot by.

Storme still.

Lear. Thou wert better in a Graue, then to answere with thy vncouer'd
body, this extremitie of the Skies. Is man no more then this? Consider
him well. Thou ow'st the Worme no Silke; the Beast, no Hide; the
Sheepe, no Wooll; the Cat, no perfume. Ha? Here's three on's are
sophisticated. Thou art the thing it selfe; vnaccommodated man, is no
more but such a poore, bare, forked Animall as thou art. Off, off you
Lendings: Come, vnbutton heere.

Enter Gloucester, with a Torch.

Foole. Prythee Nunckle be contented, 'tis a naughtie night to swimme
in. Now a little fire in a wilde Field, were like an old Letchers
heart, a small spark, all the rest on's body, cold: Looke, heere comes
a walking fire

Edg. This is the foule Flibbertigibbet; hee begins at Curfew, and
walkes at first Cocke: Hee giues the Web and the Pin, squints the eye,
and makes the Hare-lippe; Mildewes the white Wheate, and hurts the
poore Creature of earth.

Swithold footed thrice the old,

He met the Night-Mare, and her nine-fold; Bid her a-light, and her
troth-plight,

And aroynt thee Witch, aroynt thee

Kent. How fares your Grace?

Lear. What's he?

Kent. Who's there? What is't you seeke?   Glou. What are you there?
Your Names?

Edg. Poore Tom, that eates the swimming Frog, the Toad, the Tod-pole,
the wall-Neut, and the water: that in the furie of his heart, when the
foule Fiend rages, eats Cow-dung for Sallets; swallowes the old Rat,
and the ditch-Dogge; drinkes the green Mantle of the standing Poole:
who is whipt from Tything to Tything, and stockt, punish'd, and
imprison'd: who hath three Suites to his backe, sixe shirts to his
body:

Horse to ride, and weapon to weare:

But Mice, and Rats, and such small Deare, Haue bin Toms food, for seuen
long yeare: Beware my Follower. Peace Smulkin, peace thou Fiend

Glou. What, hath your Grace no better company?   Edg. The Prince of
Darkenesse is a Gentleman. Modo he's call'd, and Mahu

Glou. Our flesh and blood, my Lord, is growne so vilde, that it doth
hate what gets it

Edg. Poore Tom's a cold

Glou. Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer T' obey in all your
daughters hard commands: Though their Iniunction be to barre my doores,
And let this Tyrannous night take hold vpon you, Yet haue I ventured to
come seeke you out, And bring you where both fire, and food is ready

Lear. First let me talke with this Philosopher, What is the cause of
Thunder?

Kent. Good my Lord take his offer,

Go into th' house

Lear. Ile talke a word with this same lerned Theban: What is your
study?

Edg. How to preuent the Fiend, and to kill Vermine

Lear. Let me aske you one word in priuate

Kent. Importune him once more to go my Lord, His wits begin t'
vnsettle

Glou. Canst thou blame him?

Storm still

His Daughters seeke his death: Ah, that good Kent, He said it would be
thus: poore banish'd man: Thou sayest the King growes mad, Ile tell
thee Friend I am almost mad my selfe. I had a Sonne,

Now out-law'd from my blood: he sought my life But lately: very late: I
lou'd him (Friend) No Father his Sonne deerer: true to tell thee, The
greefe hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this? I do beseech your
grace

Lear. O cry you mercy, Sir:

Noble Philosopher, your company

Edg. Tom's a cold

Glou. In fellow there, into th' Houel; keep thee warm

Lear. Come, let's in all

Kent. This way, my Lord

Lear. With him;

I will keepe still with my Philosopher

Kent. Good my Lord, sooth him:

Let him take the Fellow

Glou. Take him you on

Kent. Sirra, come on: go along with vs

Lear. Come, good Athenian

Glou. No words, no words, hush

Edg. Childe Rowland to the darke Tower came, His word was still,
fie, foh, and fumme,

I smell the blood of a Brittish man.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Cornwall, and Edmund.

Corn. I will haue my reuenge, ere I depart his house

Bast. How my Lord, I may be censured, that Nature thus giues way to
Loyaltie, something feares mee to thinke of

Cornw. I now perceiue, it was not altogether your Brothers euill
disposition made him seeke his death: but a prouoking merit set a-worke
by a reprouable badnesse in himselfe

Bast. How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to be iust?
This is the Letter which hee spoake of; which approues him an
intelligent partie to the aduantages of France. O Heauens! that this
Treason were not; or not I the detector

Corn. Go with me to the Dutchesse

Bast. If the matter of this Paper be certain, you haue mighty
businesse in hand

Corn. True or false, it hath made thee Earle of Gloucester: seeke
out where thy Father is, that hee may bee ready for our apprehension

Bast. If I finde him comforting the King, it will stuffe his
suspition more fully. I will perseuer in my course of Loyalty, though
the conflict be sore betweene that, and my blood

Corn. I will lay trust vpon thee: and thou shalt finde a deere
Father in my loue.

Exeunt.



Scena Sexta.

Enter Kent, and Gloucester.

Glou. Heere is better then the open ayre, take it thankfully: I will
peece out the comfort with what addition I can: I will not be long from
you.

Exit

Kent. All the powre of his wits, haue giuen way to his impatience:
the Gods reward your kindnesse. Enter Lear, Edgar, and Foole.

Edg. Fraterretto cals me, and tells me Nero is an Angler in the Lake
of Darknesse: pray Innocent, and beware the foule Fiend

Foole. Prythee Nunkle tell me, whether a madman be a Gentleman, or a
Yeoman

Lear. A King, a King

Foole. No, he's a Yeoman, that ha's a Gentleman to his Sonne: for
hee's a mad Yeoman that sees his Sonne a Gentleman before him

Lear. To haue a thousand with red burning spits Come hizzing in vpon
'em

Edg. Blesse thy fiue wits

Kent. O pitty: Sir, where is the patience now That you so oft haue
boasted to retaine?

Edg. My teares begin to take his part so much, They marre my
counterfetting

Lear. The little dogges, and all;

Trey, Blanch, and Sweet-heart: see, they barke at me

Edg. Tom, will throw his head at them: Auaunt you Curres, be thy
mouth or blacke or white:

Tooth that poysons if it bite:

Mastiffe, Grey-hound, Mongrill, Grim,

Hound or Spaniell, Brache, or Hym:

Or Bobtaile tight, or Troudle taile,

Tom will make him weepe and waile,

For with throwing thus my head;

Dogs leapt the hatch, and all are fled.

Do, de, de, de: sese: Come, march to Wakes and Fayres, And Market
Townes: poore Tom thy horne is dry,   Lear. Then let them Anatomize
Regan: See what breeds about her heart. Is there any cause in Nature
that make these hard-hearts. You sir, I entertaine for one of my
hundred; only, I do not like the fashion of your garments. You will say
they are Persian; but let them bee chang'd.

Enter Gloster.

Kent. Now good my Lord, lye heere, and rest awhile

Lear. Make no noise, make no noise, draw the Curtaines: so, so,
wee'l go to Supper i'th' morning

Foole. And Ile go to bed at noone

Glou. Come hither Friend:

Where is the King my Master?

Kent. Here Sir, but trouble him not, his wits are gon

Glou. Good friend, I prythee take him in thy armes; I haue ore-heard
a plot of death vpon him: There is a Litter ready, lay him in't,

And driue toward Douer friend, where thou shalt meete Both welcome, and
protection. Take vp thy Master, If thou should'st dally halfe an houre,
his life With thine, and all that offer to defend him, Stand in assured
losse. Take vp, take vp, And follow me, that will to some prouision
Giue thee quicke conduct. Come, come, away.

Exeunt.

Scena Septima.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonerill, Bastard, and Seruants.

Corn. Poste speedily to my Lord your husband, shew him this Letter,
the Army of France is landed: seeke out the Traitor Glouster

Reg. Hang him instantly

Gon. Plucke out his eyes

Corn. Leaue him to my displeasure. Edmond, keepe you our Sister
company: the reuenges wee are bound to take vppon your Traitorous
Father, are not fit for your beholding. Aduice the Duke where you are
going, to a most festinate preparation: we are bound to the like. Our
Postes shall be swift, and intelligent betwixt vs. Farewell deere
Sister, farewell my Lord of Glouster. Enter Steward.

How now? Where's the King?

Stew. My Lord of Glouster hath conuey'd him hence Some fiue 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 toward
Douer; where they boast To haue well armed Friends

Corn. Get horses for your Mistris

Gon. Farewell sweet Lord, and Sister.

Exit

Corn. Edmund farewell: go seek the Traitor Gloster, Pinnion him like
a Theefe, bring him before vs: Though well we may not passe vpon his
life Without the forme of Iustice: yet our power Shall do a curt'sie to
our wrath, which men May blame, but not comptroll.

Enter Gloucester, and Seruants.

Who's there? the Traitor?

Reg. Ingratefull Fox, 'tis he

Corn. Binde fast his corky armes

Glou. What meanes your Graces?

Good my Friends consider you are my Ghests: Do me no foule play,
Friends

Corn. Binde him I say

Reg. Hard, hard: O filthy Traitor

Glou. Vnmercifull Lady, as you are, I'me none

Corn. To this Chaire binde him,

Villaine, thou shalt finde

Glou. By the kinde Gods, 'tis most ignobly done To plucke me by the
Beard

Reg. So white, and such a Traitor?

Glou. Naughty Ladie,

These haires which thou dost rauish from my chin Will quicken and
accuse thee. I am your Host, With Robbers hands, my hospitable fauours
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?   Corn. Come Sir.

What Letters had you late from France?

Reg. Be simple answer'd, for we know the truth

Corn. And what confederacie haue you with the Traitors, late footed
in the Kingdome?

Reg. To whose hands

You haue sent the Lunaticke King: Speake

Glou. I haue a Letter guessingly set downe Which came from one
that's of a newtrall heart, And not from one oppos'd

Corn. Cunning

Reg. And false

Corn. Where hast thou sent the King?

Glou. To Douer

Reg. Wherefore to Douer?

Was't thou not charg'd at perill

Corn. Wherefore to Douer? Let him answer that

Glou. I am tyed to'th' Stake,

And I must stand the Course

Reg. Wherefore to Douer?

Glou. Because I would not see thy cruell Nailes Plucke out his poore
old eyes: nor thy fierce Sister, In his Annointed flesh, sticke boarish
phangs. The Sea, with such a storme as his bare head, In
Hell-blacke-night indur'd, would haue buoy'd vp And quench'd the
Stelled fires:

Yet poore old heart, he holpe the Heauens to raine. If Wolues had at
thy Gate howl'd that sterne time, Thou should'st haue said, good Porter
turne the Key: All Cruels else subscribe: but I shall see The winged
Vengeance ouertake such Children

Corn. See't shalt thou neuer. Fellowes hold y Chaire, Vpon these
eyes of thine, Ile set my foote

Glou. He that will thinke to liue, till he be old, Giue me some
helpe. - O cruell! O you Gods

Reg. One side will mocke another: Th' other too

Corn. If you see vengeance

Seru. Hold your hand, my Lord:

I haue seru'd you euer since I was a Childe: But better seruice haue I
neuer done you, Then now to bid you hold

Reg. How now, you dogge?

Ser. If you did weare a beard vpon your chin, I'ld shake it on this
quarrell. What do you meane?   Corn. My Villaine?

Seru. Nay then come on, and take the chance of anger

Reg. Giue me thy Sword. A pezant stand vp thus?

Killes him.

Ser. Oh I am slaine: my Lord, you haue one eye left To see some
mischefe on him. Oh

Corn. Lest it see more, preuent it; Out vilde gelly: Where is thy
luster now?

Glou. All darke and comfortlesse?

Where's my Sonne Edmund?

Edmund, enkindle all the sparkes of Nature To quit this horrid acte

Reg. Out treacherous Villaine,

Thou call'st on him, that hates thee. It was he That made the ouerture
of thy Treasons to vs: Who is too good to pitty thee

Glou. O my Follies! then Edgar was abus'd, Kinde Gods, forgiue me
that, and prosper him

Reg. Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell His way to
Douer.

Exit with Glouster.

How is't my Lord? How looke you?

Corn. I haue receiu'd a hurt: Follow me Lady; Turne out that eyelesse
Villaine: throw this Slaue Vpon the Dunghill: Regan, I bleed apace,

Vntimely comes this hurt. Giue me your arme.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Edgar.

Edg. Yet better thus, and knowne to be contemn'd, Then still
contemn'd and flatter'd, to be worst: The lowest, and most deiected
thing of Fortune, Stands still in esperance, liues not in feare: The
lamentable change is from the best,

The worst returnes to laughter. Welcome then, Thou vnsubstantiall ayre
that I embrace:

The Wretch that thou hast blowne vnto the worst, Owes nothing to thy
blasts.

Enter Glouster, and an Oldman.

But who comes heere? My Father poorely led? World, World, O world!

But that thy strange mutations make vs hate thee, Life would not yeelde
to age

Oldm. O my good Lord, I haue bene your Tenant, And your Fathers
Tenant, these fourescore yeares

Glou. Away, get thee away: good Friend be gone, Thy comforts can do
me no good at all,

Thee, they may hurt

Oldm. You cannot see your way

Glou. I haue no way, and therefore want no eyes: I stumbled when I
saw. Full oft 'tis seene, Our meanes secure vs, and our meere defects
Proue our Commodities. Oh deere Sonne Edgar, The food of thy abused
Fathers wrath:

Might I but liue to see thee in my touch, I'ld say I had eyes againe

Oldm. How now? who's there?

Edg. O Gods! Who is't can say I am at the worst? I am worse then ere
I was

Old. 'Tis poore mad Tom

Edg. And worse I may be yet: the worst is not, So long as we can say
this is the worst

Oldm. Fellow, where goest?

Glou. Is it a Beggar-man?

Oldm. Madman, and beggar too

Glou. He has some reason, else he could not beg. I'th' last nights
storme, I such a fellow saw; Which made me thinke a Man, a Worme. My
Sonne Came then into my minde, and yet my minde Was then scarse Friends
with him.

I haue heard more since:

As Flies to wanton Boyes, are we to th' Gods, They kill vs for their
sport

Edg. How should this be?

Bad is the Trade that must play Foole to sorrow, Ang'ring it selfe, and
others. Blesse thee Master

Glou. Is that the naked Fellow?

Oldm. I, my Lord

Glou. Get thee away: If for my sake

Thou wilt ore-take vs hence a mile or twaine I'th' way toward Douer, do
it for ancient loue, And bring some couering for this naked Soule,
Which Ile intreate to leade me

Old. Alacke sir, he is mad

Glou. 'Tis the times plague,

When Madmen leade the blinde:

Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure: Aboue the rest, be gone

Oldm. Ile bring him the best Parrell that I haue Come on't what
will.

Exit

Glou. Sirrah, naked fellow

Edg. Poore Tom's a cold. I cannot daub it further

Glou. Come hither fellow

Edg. And yet I must:

Blesse thy sweete eyes, they bleede

Glou. Know'st thou the way to Douer?

Edg. Both style, and gate; Horseway, and foot-path: poore Tom hath
bin scarr'd out of his good wits. Blesse thee good mans sonne, from the
foule Fiend

Glou. Here take this purse, y whom the heau'ns plagues Haue humbled
to all strokes: that I am wretched Makes thee the happier: Heauens
deale so still: Let the superfluous, and Lust-dieted man, That slaues
your ordinance, that will not see Because he do's not feele, feele your
powre quickly: So distribution should vndoo excesse,

And each man haue enough. Dost thou know Douer?   Edg. I Master

Glou. There is a Cliffe, whose high and bending head Lookes
fearfully in the confined Deepe:

Bring me but to the very brimme of it,

And Ile repayre the misery thou do'st beare With something rich about
me: from that place, I shall no leading neede

Edg. Giue me thy arme;

Poore Tom shall leade thee.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Gonerill, Bastard, and Steward.

Gon. Welcome my Lord. I meruell our mild husband Not met vs on the
way. Now, where's your Master?   Stew. Madam within, but neuer man so
chang'd: I told him of the Army that was Landed:

He smil'd at it. I told him you were comming, His answer was, the
worse. Of Glosters Treachery, And of the loyall Seruice of his Sonne

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, seemes pleasant to
him; What like, offensiue

Gon. Then shall you go no further.

It is the Cowish terror of his spirit

That dares not vndertake: Hee'l not feele wrongs Which tye him to an
answer: our wishes on the way May proue effects. Backe Edmond to my
Brother, Hasten his Musters, and conduct his powres. I must change
names at home, and giue the Distaffe Into my Husbands hands. This
trustie Seruant Shall passe betweene vs: ere long you are like to heare
(If you dare venture in your owne behalfe) A Mistresses command. Weare
this; spare speech, Decline your head. This kisse, if it durst speake
Would stretch thy Spirits vp into the ayre: Conceiue, and fare thee
well

Bast. Yours in the rankes of death.

Enter.

Gon. My most deere Gloster.

Oh, the difference of man, and man,

To thee a Womans seruices are due,

My Foole vsurpes my body

Stew. Madam, here come's my Lord.

Enter Albany.

Gon. I haue beene worth the whistle

Alb. Oh Gonerill,

You are not worth the dust which the rude winde Blowes in your face

Gon. Milke-Liuer'd man,

That bear'st a cheeke for blowes, a head for wrongs, Who hast not in
thy browes an eye-discerning Thine Honor, from thy suffering

Alb. See thy selfe diuell:

Proper deformitie seemes not in the Fiend So horrid as in woman

Gon. Oh vaine Foole.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Oh my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwals dead, Slaine by his
Seruant, going to put out

The other eye of Glouster

Alb. Glousters eyes

Mes. A Seruant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, Oppos'd against
the act: bending his Sword To his great Master, who, threat-enrag'd

Flew on him, and among'st them fell'd him dead, But not without that
harmefull stroke, which since Hath pluckt him after

Alb. This shewes you are aboue

You Iustices, that these our neather crimes So speedily can venge. But
(O poore Glouster) Lost he his other eye?

Mes. Both, both, my Lord.

This Leter Madam, craues a speedy answer: 'Tis from your Sister

Gon. One way I like this well.

But being widdow, and my Glouster with her, May all the building in my
fancie plucke

Vpon my hatefull life. Another way

The Newes is not so tart. Ile read, and answer

Alb. Where was his Sonne,

When they did take his eyes?

Mes. Come with my Lady hither

Alb. He is not heere

Mes. No my good Lord, I met him backe againe

Alb. Knowes he the wickednesse?

Mes. I my good Lord: 'twas he inform'd against him And quit the house
on purpose, that their punishment Might haue the freer course

Alb. Glouster, I liue

To thanke thee for the loue thou shew'dst the King, And to reuenge
thine eyes. Come hither Friend, Tell me what more thou know'st.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter with Drum and Colours, Cordelia, Gentlemen, and Souldiours.

Cor. Alacke, 'tis he: why he was met euen now As mad as the vext Sea,
singing alowd.

Crown'd with ranke Fenitar, and furrow weeds, With Hardokes, Hemlocke,
Nettles, Cuckoo flowres, Darnell, and all the idle weedes that grow In
our sustaining Corne. A Centery send forth; Search euery Acre in the
high-growne field, And bring him to our eye. What can mans wisedome In
the restoring his bereaued Sense; he that helpes him, Take all my
outward worth

Gent. There is meanes Madam:

Our foster Nurse of Nature, is repose,

The which he lackes: that to prouoke in him Are many Simples operatiue,
whose power

Will close the eye of Anguish

Cord. All blest Secrets,

All you vnpublish'd Vertues of the earth

Spring with my teares; be aydant, and remediate In the Goodmans
desires: seeke, seeke for him, Least his vngouern'd rage, dissolue the
life That wants the meanes to leade it.

Enter Messenger.

Mes. Newes Madam,

The Brittish Powres are marching hitherward

Cor. 'Tis knowne before. Our preparation stands In expectation of
them. O deere Father,

It is thy businesse that I go about: Therfore great France My mourning,
and importun'd teares hath pittied: No blowne Ambition doth our Armes
incite, But loue, deere loue, and our ag'd Fathers Rite: Soone may I
heare, and see him.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Regan, and Steward.

Reg. But are my Brothers Powres set forth?   Stew. I Madam

Reg. Himselfe in person there?

Stew. Madam with much ado:

Your Sister is the better Souldier

Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your Lord at home?   Stew. No Madam

Reg. What might import my Sisters Letter to him?   Stew. I know not,
Lady

Reg. Faith he is poasted hence on serious matter: It was great
ignorance, Glousters eyes being out To let him liue. Where he arriues,
he moues All hearts against vs: Edmund, I thinke is gone In pitty of
his misery, to dispatch

His nighted life: Moreouer to descry

The strength o'th' Enemy

Stew. I must needs after him, Madam, with my Letter

Reg. Our troopes set forth to morrow, stay with vs: The wayes are
dangerous

Stew. I may not Madam:

My Lady charg'd my dutie in this busines

Reg. Why should she write to Edmund?

Might not you transport her purposes by word? Belike, Some things, I
know not what. Ile loue thee much Let me vnseale the Letter

Stew. Madam, I had rather-

Reg. I know your Lady do's not loue her Husband, I am sure of that:
and at her late being heere, She gaue strange Eliads, and most speaking
lookes To Noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosome

Stew. I, Madam?

Reg. I speake in vnderstanding: Y'are: I know't, Therefore I do
aduise you take this note: My Lord is dead: Edmond, and I haue talk'd,
And more conuenient is he for my hand

Then for your Ladies: You may gather more: If you do finde him, pray
you giue him this; And when your Mistris heares thus much from you, I
pray desire her call her wisedome to her. So fare you well:

If you do chance to heare of that blinde Traitor, Preferment fals on
him, that cuts him off

Stew. Would I could meet Madam, I should shew What party I do
follow

Reg. Fare thee well.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Gloucester, and Edgar.

Glou. When shall I come to th' top of that same hill?   Edg. You do
climbe vp it now. Look how we labor

Glou. Me thinkes the ground is eeuen

Edg. Horrible steepe.

Hearke, do you heare the Sea?

Glou. No truly

Edg. Why then your other Senses grow imperfect By your eyes anguish

Glou. So may it be indeed.

Me thinkes thy voyce is alter'd, and thou speak'st In better phrase,
and matter then thou did'st

Edg. Y'are much deceiu'd: In nothing am I chang'd But in my
Garments

Glou. Me thinkes y'are better spoken

Edg. Come on Sir,

Heere's the place: stand still: how fearefull And dizie 'tis, to cast
ones eyes so low, The Crowes and Choughes, that wing the midway ayre
Shew scarse so grosse as Beetles. Halfe way downe Hangs one that
gathers Sampire: dreadfull Trade: Me thinkes he seemes no bigger then
his head. The Fishermen, that walk'd vpon the beach Appeare like Mice:
and yond tall Anchoring Barke, Diminish'd to her Cocke: her Cocke, a
Buoy Almost too small for sight. The murmuring Surge, That on th'
vnnumbred idle Pebble chafes

Cannot be heard so high. Ile looke no more, Least my braine turne, and
the deficient sight Topple downe headlong

Glou. Set me where you stand

Edg. Giue me your hand:

You are now within a foote of th' extreme Verge: For all beneath the
Moone would I not leape vpright

Glou. Let go my hand:

Heere Friend's another purse: in it, a Iewell Well worth a poore mans
taking. Fayries, and Gods Prosper it with thee. Go thou further off,
Bid me farewell, and let me heare thee going

Edg. Now fare ye well, good Sir

Glou. With all my heart

Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his dispaire, Is done to cure it

Glou. O you mighty Gods!

This world I do renounce, and in your sights Shake patiently my great
affliction off:

If I could beare it longer, and not fall

To quarrell with your great opposelesse willes, My snuffe, and loathed
part of Nature should Burne it selfe out. If Edgar liue, O blesse him:
Now Fellow, fare thee well

Edg. Gone Sir, farewell:

And yet I know not how conceit may rob

The Treasury of life, when life it selfe

Yeelds to the Theft. Had he bin where he thought, By this had thought
bin past. Aliue, or dead? Hoa, you Sir: Friend, heare you Sir, speake:
Thus might he passe indeed: yet he reuiues. What are you Sir?

Glou. Away, and let me dye

Edg. Had'st thou beene ought

But Gozemore, Feathers, Ayre,

(So many fathome downe precipitating)

Thou'dst shiuer'd like an Egge: but thou do'st breath: Hast heauy
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 Myracle. Speake yet againe

Glou. But haue I falne, or no?

Edg. From the dread Somnet of this Chalkie Bourne Looke vp a height,
the shrill-gorg'd Larke so farre Cannot be seene, or heard: Do but
looke vp

Glou. Alacke, I haue no eyes:

Is wretchednesse depriu'd that benefit

To end it selfe by death? 'Twas yet some comfort, When misery could
beguile the Tyrants rage, And frustrate his proud will

Edg. Giue me your arme.

Vp, so: How is't? Feele you your Legges? You stand

Glou. Too well, too well

Edg. This is aboue all strangenesse,

Vpon the crowne o'th' Cliffe. What thing was that Which parted from
you?

Glou. A poore vnfortunate Beggar

Edg. As I stood heere below, me thought his eyes Were two full
Moones: he had a thousand Noses, Hornes wealk'd, and waued like the
enraged Sea: It was some Fiend: Therefore thou happy Father, Thinke
that the cleerest Gods, who make them Honors Of mens Impossibilities,
haue preserued thee

Glou. I do remember now: henceforth Ile beare Affliction, till it do
cry out it selfe

Enough, enough, and dye. That thing you speake of, I tooke it for a
man: often 'twould say

The Fiend, the Fiend, he led me to that place

Edgar. Beare free and patient thoughts. Enter Lear.

But who comes heere?

The safer sense will ne're accommodate

His Master thus

Lear. No, they cannot touch me for crying. I am the King himselfe

Edg. O thou side-piercing sight!

Lear. Nature's aboue Art, in that respect. Ther's your Presse-money.
That fellow handles his bow, like a Crowkeeper: draw mee a Cloathiers
yard. Looke, looke, a Mouse: peace, peace, this peece of toasted Cheese
will doo't. There's my Gauntlet, Ile proue it on a Gyant. Bring vp the
browne Billes. O well flowne Bird: i'th' clout, i'th' clout: Hewgh.
Giue the word

Edg. Sweet Mariorum

Lear. Passe

Glou. I know that voice

Lear. Ha! Gonerill with a white beard? They flatter'd me like a
Dogge, and told mee I had the white hayres in my Beard, ere the blacke
ones were there. To say I, and no, to euery thing that I said: I, and
no too, was no good Diuinity. When the raine came to wet me once, and
the winde to make me chatter: when the Thunder would not peace at my
bidding, there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go too, they are not
men o'their words; they told me, I was euery thing: 'Tis a Lye, I am
not Agu-proofe

Glou. The tricke of that voyce, I do well remember: Is't not the
King?

Lear. I, euery inch a King.

When I do stare, see how the Subiect quakes. I pardon that mans life.
What was thy cause? Adultery? thou shalt not dye: dye for Adultery? No,
the Wren goes too't, and the small gilded Fly Do's letcher in my sight.
Let Copulation thriue: For Glousters bastard Son was kinder to his
Father, Then my Daughters got 'tweene the lawfull sheets. Too't Luxury
pell-mell, for I lacke Souldiers. Behold yond simpring Dame, whose face
betweene her Forkes presages Snow; that minces Vertue, & do's shake the
head to heare of pleasures name. The Fitchew, nor the soyled Horse goes
too't with a more riotous appetite: Downe from the waste they are
Centaures, though Women all aboue: but to the Girdle do the Gods
inherit, beneath is all the Fiends. There's hell, there's darkenes,
there is the sulphurous pit; burning, scalding, stench, consumption:
Fye, fie, fie; pah, pah: Giue me an Ounce of Ciuet; good Apothecary
sweeten my immagination: There's money for thee

Glou. O let me kisse that hand

Lear. Let me wipe it first,

It smelles of Mortality

Glou. O ruin'd peece of Nature, this great world Shall so weare out
to naught.

Do'st thou know me?

Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough: dost thou squiny at me? No,
doe thy worst blinde Cupid, Ile not loue. Reade thou this challenge,
marke but the penning of it

Glou. Were all thy Letters Sunnes, I could not see

Edg. I would not take this from report, It is, and my heart breakes
at it

Lear. Read

Glou. What with the Case of eyes?

Lear. Oh ho, are you there with me? No eies in your head, nor no mony
in your purse? Your eyes are in a heauy case, your purse in a light,
yet you see how this world goes

Glou. I see it feelingly

Lear. What, art mad? A man may see how this world goes, with no
eyes. Looke with thine eares: See how yond Iustice railes vpon yond
simple theefe. Hearke in thine eare: Change places, and handy-dandy,
which is the Iustice, which is the theefe: Thou hast seene a Farmers
dogge barke at a Beggar?

Glou. I Sir

Lear. And the Creature run from the Cur: there thou might'st behold
the great image of Authoritie, a Dogg's obey'd in Office. Thou, Rascall
Beadle, hold thy bloody hand: why dost thou lash that Whore? Strip thy
owne backe, thou hotly lusts to vse her in that kind, for which thou
whip'st her. The Vsurer hangs the Cozener. Thorough tatter'd cloathes
great Vices do appeare: Robes, and Furr'd gownes hide all. Place sinnes
with Gold, and the strong Lance of Iustice, hurtlesse breakes: Arme it
in ragges, a Pigmies straw do's pierce it. None do's offend, none, I
say none, Ile able 'em; take that of me my Friend, who haue the power
to seale th' accusers lips. Get thee glasse-eyes, and like a scuruy
Politician, seeme to see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now.
Pull off my Bootes: harder, harder, so

Edg. O matter, and impertinency mixt,

Reason in Madnesse

Lear. If thou wilt weepe my Fortunes, take my eyes. I know thee well
enough, thy name is Glouster: Thou must be patient; we came crying
hither: Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the Ayre We wawle,
and cry. I will preach to thee: Marke

Glou. Alacke, alacke the day

Lear. When we are borne, we cry that we are come To this great stage
of Fooles. This a good blocke: It were a delicate stratagem to shoo

A Troope of Horse with Felt: Ile put't in proofe, And when I haue
stolne vpon these Son in Lawes, Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill,
kill.

Enter a Gentleman.

Gent. Oh heere he is: lay hand vpon him, Sir. Your most deere
Daughter-

Lear. No rescue? What, a Prisoner? I am euen The Naturall Foole of
Fortune. Vse me well, You shall haue ransome. Let me haue Surgeons, I
am cut to'th' Braines

Gent. You shall haue any thing

Lear. No Seconds? All my selfe?

Why, this would make a man, a man of Salt To vse his eyes for Garden
water-pots. I wil die brauely, Like a smugge Bridegroome. What? I will
be Iouiall: Come, come, I am a King, Masters, know you that?   Gent.
You are a Royall one, and we obey you

Lear. Then there's life in't. Come, and you get it, You shall get it
by running: Sa, sa, sa, sa. Enter.

Gent. A sight most pittifull in the meanest wretch, Past speaking of
in a King. Thou hast a Daughter Who redeemes Nature from the generall
curse Which twaine haue brought her to

Edg. Haile gentle Sir

Gent. Sir, speed you: what's your will?   Edg. Do you heare ought
(Sir) of a Battell toward

Gent. Most sure, and vulgar:

Euery one heares that, which can distinguish sound

Edg. But by your fauour:

How neere's the other Army?

Gent. Neere, and on speedy foot: the maine descry Stands on the
hourely thought

Edg. I thanke you Sir, that's all

Gent. Though that the Queen on special cause is here Her Army is
mou'd on.

Enter.

Edg. I thanke you Sir

Glou. You euer gentle Gods, take my breath from me, Let not my
worser Spirit tempt me againe

To dye before you please

Edg. Well pray you Father

Glou. Now good sir, what are you?

Edg. A most poore man, made tame to Fortunes blows Who, by the Art of
knowne, and feeling sorrowes, Am pregnant to good pitty. Giue me your
hand, Ile leade you to some biding

Glou. Heartie thankes:

The bountie, and the benizon of Heauen

To boot, and boot.

Enter Steward.

Stew. A proclaim'd prize: most happie

That eyelesse head of thine, was first fram'd flesh To raise my
fortunes. Thou old, vnhappy Traitor, Breefely thy selfe remember: the
Sword is out That must destroy thee

Glou. Now let thy friendly hand

Put strength enough too't

Stew. Wherefore, bold Pezant,

Dar'st thou support a publish'd Traitor? Hence, Least that th'
infection of his fortune take Like hold on thee. Let go his arme

Edg. Chill not let go Zir,

Without vurther 'casion

Stew. Let go Slaue, or thou dy'st

Edg. Good Gentleman goe your gate, and let poore volke passe: and
'chud ha' bin zwaggerd out of my life, 'twould not ha' bin zo long as
'tis, by a vortnight. Nay, come not neere th' old man: keepe out che
vor' ye, or Ile try whither your Costard, or my Ballow be the harder;
chill be plaine with you

Stew. Out Dunghill

Edg. Chill picke your teeth Zir: come, no matter vor your foynes

Stew. Slaue thou hast slaine me: Villain, take my purse; If euer
thou wilt thriue, bury my bodie,

And giue the Letters which thou find'st about me, To Edmund Earle of
Glouster: seeke him out Vpon the English party. Oh vntimely death,
death

Edg. I know thee well. A seruiceable Villaine, As duteous to the
vices of thy Mistris,

As badnesse would desire

Glou. What, is he dead?

Edg. Sit you downe Father: rest you.

Let's see these Pockets; the Letters that he speakes of May be my
Friends: hee's dead; I am onely sorry He had no other Deathsman. Let vs
see:

Leaue gentle waxe, and manners: blame vs not To know our enemies
mindes, we rip their hearts, Their Papers is more lawfull.

Reads the Letter.

Let our reciprocall vowes be remembred. You haue manie opportunities to
cut him off: if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully
offer'd. There is nothing done. If hee returne the Conqueror, then am I
the Prisoner, and his bed, my Gaole, from the loathed warmth whereof,
deliuer me, and supply the place for your Labour.

Your (Wife, so I would say) affectionate

Seruant. Gonerill.

Oh indistinguish'd space of Womans will,

A plot vpon her vertuous Husbands life,

And the exchange my Brother: heere, in the sands Thee Ile rake vp, the
poste vnsanctified

Of murtherous Letchers: and in the mature time, With this vngracious
paper strike the sight Of the death-practis'd Duke: for him 'tis well,
That of thy death, and businesse, I can tell

Glou. The King is mad:

How stiffe is my vilde sense

That I stand vp, and haue ingenious feeling Of my huge Sorrowes? Better
I were distract, So should my thoughts be seuer'd from my greefes,

Drum afarre off.

And woes, by wrong imaginations loose

The knowledge of themselues

Edg. Giue me your hand:

Farre off methinkes I heare the beaten Drumme. Come Father, Ile bestow
you with a Friend.

Exeunt.



Scaena Septima.

Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Gentleman.

Cor. O thou good Kent,

How shall I liue and worke

To match thy goodnesse?

My life will be too short,

And euery measure faile me

Kent. To be acknowledg'd Madam is ore-pai'd, All my reports go with
the modest truth,

Nor more, nor clipt, but so

Cor. Be better suited,

These weedes are memories of those worser houres: I prythee put them
off

Kent. Pardon deere Madam,

Yet to be knowne shortens my made intent, My boone I make it, that you
know me not, Till time, and I, thinke meet

Cor. Then be't so my good Lord:

How do's the King?

Gent. Madam sleepes still

Cor. O you kind Gods!

Cure this great breach in his abused Nature, Th' vntun'd and iarring
senses, O winde vp, Of this childe-changed Father

Gent. So please your Maiesty,

That we may wake the King, he hath slept long?   Cor. Be gouern'd by
your knowledge, and proceede I'th' sway of your owne will: is he
array'd? Enter Lear in a chaire carried by Seruants]   Gent. I Madam:
in the heauinesse of sleepe, We put fresh garments on him.

Be by good Madam when we do awake him,

I doubt of his Temperance

Cor. O my deere Father, restauratian hang Thy medicine on my lippes,
and let this kisse Repaire those violent harmes, that my two Sisters
Haue in thy Reuerence made

Kent. Kind and deere Princesse

Cor. Had you not bin their Father, these white flakes Did challenge
pitty of them. Was this a face To be oppos'd against the iarring
windes? Mine Enemies dogge, though he had bit me, Should haue stood
that night against my fire, And was't thou faine (poore Father)

To houell thee with Swine and Rogues forlorne, In short, and musty
straw? Alacke, alacke, 'Tis wonder that thy life and wits, at once Had
not concluded all. He wakes, speake to him

Gen. Madam do you, 'tis fittest

Cor. How does my Royall Lord?

How fares your Maiesty?

Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o'th' graue, Thou art a Soule in
blisse, but I am bound Vpon a wheele of fire, that mine owne teares Do
scal'd, like molten Lead

Cor. Sir, do you know me?

Lear. You are a spirit I know, where did you dye?   Cor. Still,
still, farre wide

Gen. He's scarse awake,

Let him alone a while

Lear. Where haue I bin?

Where am I? Faire day light?

I am mightily abus'd; I should eu'n dye with pitty To see another thus.
I know not what to say: I will not sweare these are my hands: let's
see, I feele this pin pricke, would I were assur'd Of my condition

Cor. O looke vpon me Sir,

And hold your hand in benediction o're me, You must not kneele

Lear. Pray do not mocke me:

I am a very foolish fond old man,

Fourescore and vpward,

Not an houre more, nor lesse:

And to deale plainely,

I feare I am not in my perfect mind.

Me thinkes I should know you, and know this man, Yet I am doubtfull:
For I am mainely ignorant What place this is: and all the skill I haue
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 thinke this Lady

To be my childe Cordelia

Cor. And so I am: I am

Lear. Be your teares wet?

Yes faith: I pray weepe not,

If you haue poyson for me, I will drinke it: I know you do not loue me,
for your Sisters Haue (as I do remember) done me wrong.

You haue some cause, they haue not

Cor. No cause, no cause

Lear. Am I in France?

Kent. In your owne kingdome Sir

Lear. Do not abuse me

Gent. Be comforted good Madam, the great rage You see is kill'd in
him: desire him to go in, Trouble him no more till further setling

Cor. Wilt please your Highnesse walke?   Lear. You must beare with
me:

Pray you now forget, and forgiue,

I am old and foolish.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter with Drumme and Colours, Edmund, Regan. Gentlemen, and
Souldiers.

Bast. Know of the Duke if his last purpose hold, Or whether since he
is aduis'd by ought

To change the course, he's full of alteration, And selfereprouing,
bring his constant pleasure

Reg. Our Sisters man is certainely miscarried

Bast. 'Tis to be doubted Madam

Reg. Now sweet Lord,

You know the goodnesse I intend vpon you: Tell me but truly, but then
speake the truth, Do you not loue my Sister?

Bast. In honour'd Loue

Reg. But haue you neuer found my Brothers way, To the fore-fended
place?

Bast. No by mine honour, Madam

Reg. I neuer shall endure her, deere my Lord Be not familiar with
her

Bast. Feare not, she and the Duke her husband. Enter with Drum and
Colours, Albany, Gonerill, Soldiers.

Alb. Our very louing Sister, well be-met: Sir, this I heard, the King
is come to his Daughter With others, whom the rigour of our State
Forc'd to cry out

Regan. Why is this reasond?

Gone. Combine together 'gainst the Enemie: For these domesticke and
particular broiles, Are not the question heere

Alb. Let's then determine with th' ancient of warre On our
proceeding

Reg. Sister you'le go with vs?

Gon. No

Reg. 'Tis most conuenient, pray go with vs

Gon. Oh ho, I know the Riddle, I will goe.

Exeunt. both the Armies.

Enter Edgar.

Edg. If ere your Grace had speech with man so poore, Heare me one
word

Alb. Ile ouertake you, speake

Edg. Before you fight the Battaile, ope this Letter: If you haue
victory, let the Trumpet sound For him that brought it: wretched though
I seeme, I can produce a Champion, that will proue What is auouched
there. If you miscarry,

Your businesse of the world hath so an end, And machination ceases.
Fortune loues you

Alb. Stay till I haue read the Letter

Edg. I was forbid it:

When time shall serue, let but the Herald cry, And Ile appeare againe.

Enter.

Alb. Why farethee well, I will o're-looke thy paper. Enter Edmund.

Bast. The Enemy's in view, draw vp your powers, Heere is the guesse
of their true strength and Forces, By dilligent discouerie, but your
hast

Is now vrg'd on you

Alb. We will greet the time.

Enter.

Bast. To both these Sisters haue I sworne my loue: Each iealous of
the other, as the stung

Are of the Adder. Which of them shall I take? Both? One? Or neither?
Neither can be enioy'd If both remaine aliue: To take the Widdow,
Exasperates, makes mad her Sister Gonerill, And hardly shall I carry
out my side,

Her husband being aliue. Now then, wee'l vse His countenance for the
Battaile, which being done, Let her who would be rid of him, deuise

His speedy taking off. As for the mercie

Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia, The Battaile done, and they
within our power, Shall neuer see his pardon: for my state, Stands on
me to defend, not to debate.

Enter.



Scena Secunda.

Alarum within. Enter with Drumme and Colours, Lear, Cordelia, and

Souldiers, ouer the Stage, and Exeunt. Enter Edgar, and Gloster.

Edg. Heere Father, take the shadow of this Tree For your good hoast:
pray that the right may thriue: If euer I returne to you againe,

Ile bring you comfort

Glo. Grace go with you Sir.

Enter.

Alarum and Retreat within. Enter Edgar.

Edgar. Away old man, giue me thy hand, away: King Lear hath lost, he
and his Daughter tane, Giue me thy hand: Come on

Glo. No further Sir, a man may rot euen heere

Edg. What in ill thoughts againe?

Men must endure

Their going hence, euen as their comming hither, Ripenesse is all come
on

Glo. And that's true too.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter in conquest with Drum and Colours, Edmund, Lear, and Cordelia,
as

prisoners, Souldiers, Captaine.

Bast. Some Officers take them away: good guard, Vntill their greater
pleasures first be knowne That are to censure them

Cor. We are not the first,

Who with best meaning haue incurr'd the worst: For thee oppressed King
I am cast downe,

My selfe could else out-frowne false Fortunes frowne. Shall we not see
these Daughters, and these Sisters?   Lear. No, no, no, no: come let's
away to prison, We two alone will sing like Birds i'th' Cage: When thou
dost aske me blessing, Ile kneele downe And aske of thee forgiuenesse:
So wee'l liue, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At
gilded Butterflies: and heere (poore Rogues) Talke of Court newes, and
wee'l talke with them too, Who looses, and who wins; who's in, who's
out; And take vpon's the mystery of things,

As if we were Gods spies: And wee'l weare out In a wall'd prison, packs
and sects of great ones, That ebbe and flow by th' Moone

Bast. Take them away

Lear. Vpon such sacrifices my Cordelia, The Gods themselues throw
Incense.

Haue I caught thee?

He that parts vs, shall bring a Brand from Heauen, And fire vs hence,
like Foxes: wipe thine eyes, The good yeares shall deuoure them, flesh
and fell, Ere they shall make vs weepe?

Weele see 'em staru'd first: come.

Enter.

Bast. Come hither Captaine, hearke.

Take thou this note, go follow them to prison, One step I haue aduanc'd
thee, if thou do'st 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

Do's not become a Sword, thy great imployment Will not beare question:
either say thou'lt do't, Or thriue by other meanes

Capt. Ile do't my Lord

Bast. About it, and write happy, when th'hast done, Marke I say
instantly, and carry it so

As I haue set it downe.

Exit Captaine.

Flourish. Enter Albany, Gonerill, Regan, Soldiers.

Alb. Sir, you haue shew'd to day your valiant straine And Fortune led
you well: you haue the Captiues Who were the opposites of this dayes
strife: I do require them of you so to vse them,

As we shall find their merites, and our safety May equally determine

Bast. Sir, I thought it fit,

To send the old and miserable King to some retention, Whose age had
Charmes in it, whose Title more, To plucke the common bosome on his
side,

And turne our imprest Launces in our eies 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, t' appeare Where you shall hold your
Session

Alb. Sir, by your patience,

I hold you but a subiect of this Warre,

Not as a Brother

Reg. That's as we list to grace him.

Methinkes our pleasure might haue bin demanded Ere you had spoke so
farre. He led our Powers, Bore the Commission of my place and person,
The which immediacie may well stand vp,

And call it selfe your Brother

Gon. Not so hot:

In his owne grace he doth exalt himselfe, More then in your addition

Reg. In my rights,

By me inuested, he compeeres the best

Alb. That were the most, if he should husband you

Reg. Iesters do oft proue Prophets

Gon. Hola, hola,

That eye that told you so, look'd but a squint

Rega. Lady I am not well, else I should answere From a full flowing
stomack. Generall,

Take thou my Souldiers, prisoners, patrimony, Dispose of them, of me,
the walls is thine: Witnesse the world, that I create thee heere My
Lord, and Master

Gon. Meane you to enioy him?

Alb. The let alone lies not in your good will

Bast. Nor in thine Lord

Alb. Halfe-blooded fellow, yes

Reg. Let the Drum strike, and proue my title thine

Alb. Stay yet, heare reason: Edmund, I arrest thee On capitall
Treason; and in thy arrest,

This guilded Serpent: for your claime faire Sisters, I bare it in the
interest of my wife,

'Tis she is sub-contracted to this Lord,

And I her husband contradict your Banes.

If you will marry, make your loues to me, My Lady is bespoke

Gon. An enterlude

Alb. Thou art armed Gloster,

Let the Trumpet sound:

If none appeare to proue vpon thy person, Thy heynous, manifest, and
many Treasons, There is my pledge: Ile make it on thy heart Ere I taste
bread, thou art in nothing lesse Then I haue heere proclaim'd thee

Reg. Sicke, O sicke

Gon. If not, Ile nere trust medicine

Bast. There's my exchange, what in the world hes That names me
Traitor, villain-like he lies, Call by the Trumpet: he that dares
approach; On him, on you, who not, I will maintaine My truth and honor
firmely.

Enter a Herald.

Alb. A Herald, ho.

Trust to thy single vertue, for thy Souldiers All leuied in my name,
haue in my name

Tooke their discharge

Regan. My sicknesse growes vpon me

Alb. She is not well, conuey her to my Tent. Come hither Herald, let
the Trumpet sound, And read out this.

A Trumpet sounds.

Herald reads.

If any man of qualitie or degree, within the lists of the Army, will
maintaine vpon Edmund, supposed Earle of Gloster, that he is a manifold
Traitor, let him appeare by the third sound of the Trumpet: he is bold
in his defence.

1 Trumpet.

Her. Againe.

2 Trumpet.

Her. Againe.

3 Trumpet.

Trumpet answers within.

Enter Edgar armed.

Alb. Aske him his purposes, why he appeares Vpon this Call o'th'
Trumpet

Her. What are you?

Your name, your quality, and why you answer This present Summons?

Edg. Know my name is lost

By Treasons tooth: bare-gnawne, and Canker-bit, Yet am I Noble as the
Aduersary

I come to cope

Alb. Which is that Aduersary?

Edg. What's he that speakes for Edmund Earle of Gloster?   Bast.
Himselfe, what saist thou to him?   Edg. Draw thy Sword,

That if my speech offend a Noble heart,

Thy arme may do thee Iustice, heere is mine: Behold it is my
priuiledge,

The priuiledge of mine Honours,

My oath, and my profession. I protest,

Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence, Despise thy
victor-Sword, and fire new Fortune, Thy valor, and thy heart, thou art
a Traitor: False to thy Gods, thy Brother, and thy Father, Conspirant
'gainst this high illustrious Prince, And from th' extremest vpward of
thy head, To the discent and dust below thy foote,

A most Toad-spotted Traitor. Say thou no, This Sword, this arme, and my
best spirits are bent To proue vpon thy heart, where to I speake, Thou
lyest

Bast. In wisedome I should aske thy name, But since thy out-side
lookes so faire and Warlike, And that thy tongue (some say) of breeding
breathes, What safe, and nicely I might well delay, By rule of
Knight-hood, I disdaine and spurne: Backe do I tosse these Treasons to
thy head, With the hell-hated Lye, ore-whelme thy heart, Which for they
yet glance by, and scarcely bruise, This Sword of mine shall giue them
instant way, Where they shall rest for euer. Trumpets speake

Alb. Saue him, saue him.

Alarums. Fights.

Gon. This is practise Gloster,

By th' law of Warre, thou wast not bound to answer An vnknowne
opposite: thou art not vanquish'd, But cozend, and beguild

Alb. Shut your mouth Dame,

Or with this paper shall I stop it: hold Sir, Thou worse then any name,
reade thine owne euill: No tearing Lady, I perceiue you know it

Gon. Say if I do, the Lawes are mine not thine, Who can araigne me
for't?

Enter.

Alb. Most monstrous! O, know'st thou this paper?   Bast. Aske me not
what I know

Alb. Go after her, she's desperate, gouerne her

Bast. What you haue charg'd me with,

That haue 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 forgiue thee

Edg. Let's exchange charity:

I am no lesse in blood then thou art Edmond, If more, the more th'hast
wrong'd me.

My name is Edgar and thy Fathers Sonne,

The Gods are iust, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague
vs:

The darke and vitious place where thee he got, Cost him his eyes

Bast. Th'hast spoken right, 'tis true, The Wheele is come full
circle, I am heere

Alb. Me thought thy very gate did prophesie A Royall Noblenesse: I
must embrace thee, Let sorrow split my heart, if euer I

Did hate thee, or thy Father

Edg. Worthy Prince I know't

Alb. Where haue you hid your selfe?

How haue you knowne the miseries of your Father?   Edg. By nursing them
my Lord. List a breefe tale, And when 'tis told, O that my heart would
burst. The bloody proclamation to escape

That follow'd me so neere, (O our liues sweetnesse, That we the paine
of death would hourely dye, Rather then die at once) taught me to shift
Into a mad-mans rags, t' assume a semblance That very Dogges 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, sau'd him from dispaire. Neuer (O fault) reueal'd my selfe vnto
him, Vntill some halfe houre past when I was arm'd, Not sure, though
hoping of this good successe, I ask'd his blessing, and from first to
last Told him our pilgrimage. But his flaw'd heart (Alacke too weake
the conflict to support) Twixt two extremes of passion, ioy and greefe,
Burst smilingly

Bast. This speech of yours hath mou'd me, And shall perchance do
good, but speake you on, You looke as you had something more to say

Alb. If there be more, more wofull, hold it in, For I am almost
ready to dissolue,

Hearing of this.

Enter a Gentleman.

Gen. Helpe, helpe: O helpe

Edg. What kinde of helpe?

Alb. Speake man

Edg. What meanes this bloody Knife?

Gen. 'Tis hot, it smoakes, it came euen from the heart of- O she's
dead

Alb. Who dead? Speake man

Gen. Your Lady Sir, your Lady; and her Sister By her is poyson'd:
she confesses it

Bast. I was contracted to them both, all three Now marry in an
instant

Edg. Here comes Kent.

Enter Kent.

Alb. Produce the bodies, be they aliue or dead;

Gonerill and Regans bodies brought out.

This iudgement of the Heauens that makes vs tremble. Touches vs not
with pitty: O, is this he? The time will not allow the complement

Which very manners vrges

Kent. I am come

To bid my King and Master aye good night. Is he not here?

Alb. Great thing of vs forgot,

Speake Edmund, where's the King? and where's Cordelia? Seest thou this
obiect Kent?

Kent. Alacke, why thus?

Bast. Yet Edmund was belou'd:

The one the other poison'd for my sake,

And after slew herselfe

Alb. Euen so: couer their faces

Bast. I pant for life: some good I meane to do Despight of mine owne
Nature. Quickly send, (Be briefe in it) to'th' Castle, for my Writ Is
on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia:

Nay, send in time

Alb. Run, run, O run

Edg. To who my Lord? Who ha's the Office? Send thy token of
repreeue

Bast. Well thought on, take my Sword,

Giue it the Captaine

Edg. Hast thee for thy life

Bast. He hath Commission from thy Wife and me, To hang Cordelia in
the prison, and

To lay the blame vpon her owne dispaire,

That she for-did her selfe

Alb. The Gods defend her, beare him hence awhile. Enter Lear with
Cordelia in his armes.

Lear. Howle, howle, howle: O you are men of stones, Had I your
tongues and eyes, Il'd vse them so, That Heauens vault should crack:
she's gone for euer. I know when one is dead, and when one liues, She's
dead as earth: Lend me a Looking-glasse, If that her breath will mist
or staine the stone, Why then she liues

Kent. Is this the promis'd end?

Edg. Or image of that horror

Alb. Fall and cease

Lear. This feather stirs, she liues: if it be so, It is a chance
which do's redeeme all sorrowes That euer I haue felt

Kent. O my good Master

Lear. Prythee away

Edg. 'Tis Noble Kent your Friend

Lear. A plague vpon you Murderors, Traitors all, I might haue sau'd
her, now she's gone for euer: Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha:

What is't thou saist? Her voice was euer soft, Gentle, and low, an
excellent thing in woman. I kill'd the Slaue that was a hanging thee

Gent. 'Tis true (my Lords) he did

Lear. Did I not fellow?

I haue seene the day, with my good biting Faulchion I would haue made
him skip: I am old now, And these same crosses spoile me. Who are you?
Mine eyes are not o'th' best, Ile tell you straight

Kent. If Fortune brag of two, she lou'd and hated, One of them we
behold

Lear. This is a dull sight, are you not Kent?   Kent. The same: your
Seruant Kent,

Where is your Seruant Caius?

Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that, He'le strike and
quickly too, he's dead and rotten

Kent. No my good Lord, I am the very man

Lear. Ile see that straight

Kent. That from your first of difference and decay, Haue follow'd
your sad steps

Lear. You are welcome hither

Kent. Nor no man else:

All's cheerlesse, darke, and deadly,

Your eldest Daughters haue fore-done themselues, And desperately are
dead

Lear. I so I thinke

Alb. He knowes not what he saies, and vaine is it That we present vs
to him.

Enter a Messenger.

Edg. Very bootlesse

Mess. Edmund is dead my Lord

Alb. That's but a trifle heere:

You Lords and Noble Friends, know our intent, What comfort to this
great decay may come, Shall be appli'd. For vs we will resigne, During
the life of this old Maiesty

To him our absolute power, you to your rights, With boote, and such
addition as your Honours Haue more then merited. All Friends shall
Taste the wages of their vertue, and all Foes The cup of their
deseruings: O see, see

Lear. And my poore Foole is hang'd: no, no, no life? Why should a
Dog, a Horse, a Rat haue life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come
no more, Neuer, neuer, neuer, neuer, neuer.

Pray you vndo this Button. Thanke you Sir, Do you see this? Looke on
her? Looke her lips, Looke there, looke there.

He dies.

Edg. He faints, my Lord, my Lord

Kent. Breake heart, I prythee breake

Edg. Looke vp my Lord

Kent. Vex not his ghost, O let him passe, he hates him, That would
vpon the wracke of this tough world Stretch him out longer

Edg. He is gon indeed

Kent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long, He but vsurpt his
life

Alb. Beare them from hence, our present businesse Is generall woe:
Friends of my soule, you twaine, Rule in this Realme, and the gor'd
state sustaine

Kent. I haue a iourney Sir, shortly to go, My Master calls me, I
must not say no

Edg. The waight of this sad time we must obey, Speake what we feele,
not what we ought to say: The oldest hath borne most, we that are yong,
Shall neuer see so much, nor liue so long.

Exeunt. with a dead March.



FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF KING LEAR.



The Tragedie of Othello, the Moore of Venice

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Rodorigo, and Iago.

Rodorigo. Neuer tell me, I take it much vnkindly That thou (Iago) who
hast had my purse,

As if y strings were thine, should'st know of this

Ia. But you'l not heare me. If euer I did dream Of such a matter,
abhorre me

Rodo. Thou told'st me,

Thou did'st hold him in thy hate

Iago. Despise me

If I do not. Three Great-ones of the Cittie, (In personall suite to
make me his Lieutenant) Off-capt to him: and by the faith of man

I know my price, I am worth no worsse a place. But he (as louing his
owne pride, and purposes) Euades them, with a bumbast Circumstance,
Horribly stufft with Epithites of warre,

Non-suites my Mediators. For certes, saies he, I haue already chose my
Officer. And what was he? For-sooth, a great Arithmatician,

One Michaell Cassio, a Florentine,

(A Fellow almost damn'd in a faire Wife)

That neuer set a Squadron in the Field,

Nor the deuision of a Battaile knowes

More then a Spinster. Vnlesse the Bookish Theoricke: Wherein the
Tongued Consuls can propose

As Masterly as he. Meere pratle (without practise) Is all his
Souldiership. But he (Sir) had th' election; And I (of whom his eies
had seene the proofe At Rhodes, at Ciprus, and on others grounds
Christen'd, and Heathen) must be be-leed, and calm'd By Debitor, and
Creditor. This Counter-caster, He (in good time) must his Lieutenant
be, And I (blesse the marke) his Mooreships Auntient

Rod. By heauen, I rather would haue bin his hangman

Iago. Why, there's no remedie.

'Tis the cursse of Seruice;

Preferment goes by Letter, and affection, And not by old gradation,
where each second Stood Heire to'th' first. Now Sir, be iudge your
selfe, Whether I in any iust terme am Affin'd

To loue the Moore?

Rod. I would not follow him then

Iago. O Sir content you.

I follow him, to serue my turne vpon him. We cannot all be Masters, nor
all Masters Cannot be truely follow'd. You shall marke Many a dutious
and knee-crooking knaue;

That (doting on his owne obsequious bondage) Weares out his time, much
like his Masters Asse, For naught but Prouender, & when he's old
Casheer'd. Whip me such honest knaues. Others there are Who trym'd in
Formes, and visages of Dutie, Keepe yet their hearts attending on
themselues, And throwing but showes of Seruice on their Lords Doe well
thriue by them.

And when they haue lin'd their Coates

Doe themselues Homage.

These Fellowes haue some soule,

And such a one do I professe my selfe. For (Sir) It is as sure as you
are Rodorigo,

Were I the Moore, I would not be Iago:

In following him, I follow but my selfe.

Heauen is my Iudge, not I for loue and dutie, But seeming so, for my
peculiar end:

For when my outward Action doth demonstrate The natiue act, and figure
of my heart

In Complement externe, 'tis not long after But I will weare my heart
vpon my sleeue

For Dawes to pecke at; I am not what I am

Rod. What a fall Fortune do's the Thicks-lips owe If he can carry't
thus?

Iago. Call vp her Father:

Rowse him, make after him, poyson his delight, Proclaime him in the
Streets. Incense her kinsmen, And though he in a fertile Clymate dwell,
Plague him with Flies: though that his Ioy be Ioy, Yet throw such
chances of vexation on't,

As it may loose some colour

Rodo. Heere is her Fathers house, Ile call aloud

Iago. Doe, with like timerous accent, and dire yell, As when (by
Night and Negligence) the Fire Is spied in populus Citties

Rodo. What hoa: Brabantio, Signior Brabantio, hoa

Iago. Awake: what hoa, Brabantio: Theeues, Theeues. Looke to your
house, your daughter, and your Bags, Theeues, Theeues

Bra. Aboue. What is the reason of this terrible Summons? What is the
matter there?

Rodo. Signior is all your Familie within?   Iago. Are your Doores
lock'd?

Bra. Why? Wherefore ask you this?

Iago. Sir, y'are rob'd, for shame put on your Gowne, Your heart is
burst, you haue lost halfe your soule Euen now, now, very now, an old
blacke Ram Is tupping your white Ewe. Arise, arise,

Awake the snorting Cittizens with the Bell, Or else the deuill will
make a Grand-sire of you. Arise I say

Bra. What, haue you lost your wits?

Rod. Most reuerend Signior, do you know my voice?   Bra. Not I: what
are you?

Rod. My name is Rodorigo

Bra. The worsser welcome:

I haue charg'd thee not to haunt about my doores: In honest plainenesse
thou hast heard me say, My Daughter is not for thee. And now in
madnesse (Being full of Supper, and distempring draughtes) Vpon
malitious knauerie, dost thou come

To start my quiet

Rod. Sir, Sir, Sir

Bra. But thou must needs be sure,

My spirits and my place haue in their power To make this bitter to
thee

Rodo. Patience good Sir

Bra. What tell'st thou me of Robbing?

This is Venice: my house is not a Grange

Rodo. Most graue Brabantio,

In simple and pure soule, I come to you

Ia. Sir: you are one of those that will not serue God, if the deuill
bid you. Because we come to do you seruice, and you thinke we are
Ruffians, you'le haue your Daughter couer'd with a Barbary horse,
you'le haue your Nephewes neigh to you, you'le haue Coursers for
Cozens: and Gennets for Germaines

Bra. What prophane wretch art thou?

Ia. I am one Sir, that comes to tell you, your Daughter and the
Moore, are making the Beast with two backs

Bra. Thou art a Villaine

Iago. You are a Senator

Bra. This thou shalt answere. I know thee Rodorigo

Rod. Sir, I will answere any thing. But I beseech you If't be your
pleasure, and most wise consent, (As partly I find it is) that your
faire Daughter, At this odde Euen and dull watch o'th' night
Transported with no worse nor better guard, But with a knaue of common
hire, a Gundelier, To the grosse claspes of a Lasciuious Moore: If this
be knowne to you, and your Allowance, We then haue done you bold, and
saucie wrongs. But if you know not this, my Manners tell me, We haue
your wrong rebuke. Do not beleeue That from the sence of all
Ciuilitie,

I thus would play and trifle with your Reuerence. Your Daughter (if you
haue not giuen her leaue) I say againe, hath made a grosse reuolt,

Tying her Dutie, Beautie, Wit, and Fortunes In an extrauagant, and
wheeling Stranger, Of here, and euery where: straight satisfie your
selfe. If she be in her Chamber, or your house,

Let loose on me the Iustice of the State

For thus deluding you

Bra. Strike on the Tinder, hoa:

Giue me a Taper: call vp all my people,

This Accident is not vnlike my dreame,

Beleefe of it oppresses me alreadie.

Light, I say, light.

Enter.

Iag. Farewell: for I must leaue you.

It seemes not meete, nor wholesome to my place To be producted, (as if
I stay, I shall,) Against the Moore. For I do know the State, (How euer
this may gall him with some checke) Cannot with safetie cast-him. For
he's embark'd With such loud reason to the Cyprus Warres, (Which euen
now stands in Act) that for their soules Another of his Fadome, they
haue none,

To lead their Businesse. In which regard, Though I do hate him as I do
hell paines, Yet, for necessitie of present life,

I must show out a Flag, and signe of Loue, (Which is indeed but signe)
that you shal surely find him Lead to the Sagitary the raised Search:

And there will I be with him. So farewell.

Enter.

Enter Brabantio, with Seruants and Torches.

Bra. It is too true an euill. Gone she is, And what's to come of my
despised time,

Is naught but bitternesse. Now Rodorigo,

Where didst thou see her? (Oh vnhappie Girle) With the Moore saist
thou? (Who would be a Father?) How didst thou know 'twas she? (Oh she
deceaues me Past thought:) what said she to you? Get moe Tapers. Raise
all my Kindred. Are they married thinke you?   Rodo. Truely I thinke
they are

Bra. Oh Heauen: how got she out?

Oh treason of the blood.

Fathers, from hence trust not your Daughters minds By what you see them
act. Is there not Charmes, By which the propertie of Youth, and
Maidhood May be abus'd? Haue you not read Rodorigo, Of some such
thing?

Rod. Yes Sir: I haue indeed

Bra. Call vp my Brother: oh would you had had her. Some one way,
some another. Doe you know

Where we may apprehend her, and the Moore?   Rod. I thinke I can
discouer him, if you please To get good Guard, and go along with me

Bra. Pray you lead on. At euery house Ile call, (I may command at
most) get Weapons (hoa) And raise some speciall Officers of might: On
good Rodorigo, I will deserue your paines.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Othello, Iago, Attendants, with Torches.

Ia. Though in the trade of Warre I haue slaine men, Yet do I hold it
very stuffe o'th' conscience To do no contriu'd Murder: I lacke
Iniquitie Sometime to do me seruice. Nine, or ten times I had thought
t'haue yerk'd him here vnder the Ribbes

Othello. 'Tis better as it is

Iago. Nay but he prated,

And spoke such scuruy, and prouoking termes Against your Honor, that
with the little godlinesse I haue I did full hard forbeare him. But I
pray you Sir, Are you fast married? Be assur'd of this, That the
Magnifico is much belou'd,

And hath in his effect a voice potentiall As double as the Dukes: He
will diuorce you. Or put vpon you, what restraint or greeuance, The Law
(with all his might, to enforce it on) Will giue him Cable

Othel. Let him do his spight;

My Seruices, which I haue done the Signorie 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
Royall Seige. And my demerites May speake (vnbonnetted) to as proud a
Fortune As this that I haue reach'd. For know Iago, But that I loue the
gentle Desdemona,

I would not my vnhoused free condition

Put into Circumscription, and Confine,

For the Seas worth. But looke, what Lights come yond?

Enter Cassio, with Torches.

Iago. Those are the raised Father, and his Friends: You were best go
in

Othel. Not I: I must be found.

My Parts, my Title, and my perfect Soule

Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?

Iago. By Ianus, I thinke no

Othel. The Seruants of the Dukes?

And my Lieutenant?

The goodnesse of the Night vpon you (Friends) What is the Newes?

Cassio. The Duke do's greet you (Generall) And he requires your
haste, Post-haste appearance, Euen on the instant

Othello. What is the matter, thinke you?   Cassio. Something from
Cyprus, as I may diuine: It is a businesse of some heate. The Gallies
Haue sent a dozen sequent Messengers

This very night, at one anothers heeles:

And many of the Consuls, rais'd and met,

Are at the Dukes already. You haue bin hotly call'd for, When being not
at your Lodging to be found, The Senate hath sent about three seuerall
Quests, To search you out

Othel. 'Tis well I am found by you:

I will but spend a word here in the house, And goe with you

Cassio. Aunciant, what makes he heere?   Iago. Faith, he to night
hath boarded a Land Carract, If it proue lawfull prize, he's made for
euer

Cassio. I do not vnderstand

Iago. He's married

Cassio. To who?

Iago. Marry to- Come Captaine, will you go?   Othel. Haue with you

Cassio. Here comes another Troope to seeke for you.

Enter Brabantio, Rodorigo, with Officers, and Torches.

Iago. It is Brabantio: Generall be aduis'd, He comes to bad intent

Othello. Holla, stand there

Rodo. Signior, it is the Moore

Bra. Downe with him, Theefe

Iago. You, Rodorigo? Come Sir, I am for you

Othe. Keepe vp your bright Swords, for the dew will rust them. Good
Signior, you shall more command with yeares, then with your Weapons

Bra. Oh thou foule Theefe,

Where hast thou stow'd my Daughter?

Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchaunted her For Ile referre me to all
things of sense, (If she in Chaines of Magick were not bound) Whether a
Maid, so tender, Faire, and Happie, So opposite to Marriage, that she
shun'd

The wealthy curled Deareling of our Nation, Would euer haue (t' encurre
a generall mocke) Run from her Guardage to the sootie bosome, Of such a
thing as thou: to feare, not to delight? Iudge me the world, if 'tis
not grosse in sense, That thou hast practis'd on her with foule
Charmes, Abus'd her delicate Youth, with Drugs or Minerals, That
weakens Motion. Ile haue'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 vpon him, if he do resist

Subdue him, at his perill

Othe. Hold your hands

Both you of my inclining, and the rest.

Were it my Cue to fight, I should haue knowne it Without a Prompter.
Whether will you that I goe To answere this your charge?

Bra. To Prison, till fit time

Of Law, and course of direct Session

Call thee to answer

Othe. What if I do obey?

How may the Duke be therewith satisfi'd,

Whose Messengers are heere about my side, Vpon some present businesse
of the State, To bring me to him

Officer. 'Tis true most worthy Signior, The Dukes in Counsell, and
your Noble selfe, I am sure is sent for

Bra. How? The Duke in Counsell?

In this time of the night? Bring him away; Mine's not an idle Cause.
The Duke himselfe, Or any of my Brothers of the State,

Cannot but feele this wrong, as 'twere their owne: For if such Actions
may haue passage free, Bond-slaues, and Pagans shall our Statesmen be.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Duke, Senators, and Officers.

Duke. There's no composition in this Newes, That giues them Credite

1.Sen. Indeed, they are disproportioned; My Letters say, a Hundred
and seuen Gallies

Duke. And mine a Hundred fortie

2.Sena. And mine two Hundred:

But though they iumpe not on a iust accompt, (As in these Cases where
the ayme reports, 'Tis oft with difference) yet do they all confirme A
Turkish Fleete, and bearing vp to Cyprus

Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to iudgement: I do not so secure me
in the Error,

But the maine Article I do approue

In fearefull sense

Saylor within. What hoa, what hoa, what hoa.

Enter Saylor.

Officer. A Messenger from the Gallies

Duke. Now? What's the businesse?

Sailor. The Turkish Preparation makes for Rhodes, So was I bid report
here to the State,

By Signior Angelo

Duke. How say you by this change?

1.Sen. This cannot be

By no assay of reason. 'Tis a Pageant

To keepe vs in false gaze, when we consider Th' importancie of Cyprus
to the Turke;

And let our selues againe but vnderstand, That as it more concernes the
Turke then Rhodes, So may he with more facile question beare it, For
that it stands not in such Warrelike brace, But altogether lackes th'
abilities

That Rhodes is dress'd in. If we make thought of this, We must not
thinke the Turke is so vnskillfull, To leaue that latest, which
concernes him first, Neglecting an attempt of ease, and gaine

To wake, and wage a danger profitlesse

Duke. Nay, in all confidence he's not for Rhodes

Officer. Here is more Newes.

Enter a Messenger.

Messen. The Ottamites, Reueren'd, and Gracious, Steering with due
course toward the Ile of Rhodes, Haue there inioynted them with an
after Fleete

1.Sen. I, so I thought: how many, as you guesse?   Mess. Of thirtie
Saile: and now they do re-stem Their backward course, bearing with
frank appearance Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano, Your
trustie and most Valiant Seruitour,

With his free dutie, recommends you thus, And prayes you to beleeue
him

Duke. 'Tis certaine then for Cyprus:

Marcus Luccicos is not he in Towne?

1.Sen. He's now in Florence

Duke. Write from vs,

To him, Post, Post-haste, dispatch

1.Sen. Here comes Brabantio, and the Valiant Moore.

Enter Brabantio, Othello, Cassio, Iago, Rodorigo, and Officers.

Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you, Against the
generall Enemy Ottoman.

I did not see you: welcome gentle Signior, We lack't your Counsaile,
and your helpe to night

Bra. So did I yours: Good your Grace pardon me. Neither my place,
nor ought I heard of businesse Hath rais'd me from my bed; nor doth the
generall care Take hold on me. For my perticular griefe Is of so
flood-gate, and ore-bearing Nature, That it engluts, and swallowes
other sorrowes, And it is still it selfe

Duke. Why? What's the matter?

Bra. My Daughter: oh my Daughter!

Sen. Dead?

Bra. I, to me.

She is abus'd, stolne from me, and corrupted By Spels, and Medicines,
bought of Mountebanks; For Nature, so prepostrously to erre,

(Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,) Sans witch-craft could
not

Duke. Who ere he be, that in this foule proceeding Hath thus
beguil'd your Daughter of her selfe, And you of her; the bloodie Booke
of Law, You shall your selfe read, in the bitter letter, After your
owne sense: yea, though our proper Son Stood in your Action

Bra. Humbly I thanke your Grace,

Here is the man; this Moore, whom now it seemes Your speciall Mandate,
for the State affaires Hath hither brought

All. We are verie sorry for't

Duke. What in your owne part, can you say to this?   Bra. Nothing,
but this is so

Othe. Most Potent, Graue, and Reueren'd Signiors, My very Noble, and
approu'd good Masters; That I haue tane away this old mans Daughter, It
is most true: true I haue married her; The verie 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 Armes of
mine, had seuen yeares pith, Till now, some nine Moones wasted, they
haue vs'd Their deerest action, in the Tented Field: And little of this
great world can I speake, More then pertaines to Feats of Broiles, and
Battaile, And therefore little shall I grace my cause, In speaking for
my selfe. Yet, (by your gratious patience) I will a round vn-varnish'd
Tale deliuer, Of my whole course of Loue.

What Drugges, what Charmes,

What Coniuration, and what mighty Magicke, (For such proceeding I am
charg'd withall) I won his Daughter

Bra. A Maiden, neuer bold:

Of Spirit so still, and quiet, that her Motion Blush'd at her selfe,
and she, in spight of Nature, Of Yeares, of Country, Credite, euery
thing To fall in Loue, with what she fear'd to looke on; It is a
iudgement main'd, and most imperfect. That will confesse Perfection so
could erre Against all rules of Nature, and must be driuen To find out
practises of cunning hell

Why this should be. I therefore vouch againe, That with some Mixtures,
powrefull o're the blood, Or with some Dram, (coniur'd to this effect)
He wrought vpon her.

To vouch this, is no proofe,

Without more wider, and more ouer Test

Then these thin habits, and poore likely-hoods Of moderne seeming, do
prefer against him

Sen. But Othello, speake,

Did you, by indirect, and forced courses

Subdue, and poyson this yong Maides affections? Or came it by request,
and such faire question As soule, to soule affordeth?

Othel. I do beseech you,

Send for the Lady to the Sagitary,

And let her speake of me before her Father; If you do finde me foule,
in her report,

The Trust, the Office, I do hold of you,

Not onely take away, but let your Sentence Euen fall vpon my life

Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither

Othe. Aunciant, conduct them:

You best know the place.

And tell she come, as truely as to heauen, I do confesse the vices of
my blood,

So iustly to your Graue eares, Ile present How I did thriue in this
faire Ladies loue, And she in mine

Duke. Say it Othello

Othe. Her Father lou'd me, oft inuited me: Still question'd me the
Storie of my life, From yeare to yeare: the Battaile, Sieges, Fortune,
That I haue past.

I ran it through, euen from my boyish daies, Toth' very moment that he
bad me tell it. Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances: Of mouing
Accidents by Flood and Field,

Of haire-breadth scapes i'th' imminent deadly breach; Of being taken by
the Insolent Foe,

And sold to slauery. Of my redemption thence, And portance in my
Trauellours historie.

Wherein of Antars vast, and Desarts idle, Rough Quarries, Rocks, Hills,
whose head touch heauen, It was my hint to speake. Such was my
Processe, And of the Canibals that each others eate, The Antropophague,
and men whose heads

Grew beneath their shoulders. These things to heare, Would Desdemona
seriously incline:

But still the house Affaires would draw her hence: Which euer as she
could with haste dispatch, She'l'd come againe, and with a greedie eare
Deuoure vp my discourse. Which I obseruing, Tooke once a pliant houre,
and found good meanes 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 instinctiuely: I
did consent,

And often did beguile her of her teares,

When I did speake of some distressefull stroke That my youth suffer'd:
My Storie being done, She gaue me for my paines a world of kisses: She
swore in faith 'twas strange: 'twas passing strange, 'Twas pittifull:
'twas wondrous pittifull. She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she
wish'd That Heauen had made her such a man. She thank'd me, And bad me,
if I had a Friend that lou'd her, I should but teach him how to tell my
Story, And that would wooe her. Vpon this hint I spake, She lou'd me
for the dangers I had past,

And I lou'd her, that she did pitty them. This onely is the witch-craft
I haue vs'd. Here comes the Ladie: Let her witnesse it.

Enter Desdemona, Iago, Attendants.

Duke. I thinke this tale would win my Daughter too, Good Brabantio,
take vp this mangled matter at the best: Men do their broken Weapons
rather vse,

Then their bare hands

Bra. I pray you heare her speake?

If she confesse that she was halfe the wooer, Destruction on my head,
if my bad blame

Light on the man. Come hither gentle Mistris, Do you perceiue in all
this Noble Companie, Where most you owe obedience?

Des. My Noble Father,

I do perceiue heere a diuided dutie.

To you I am bound for life, and education: My life and education both
do learne me,

How to respect you. You are the Lord of duty, I am hitherto your
Daughter. But heere's my Husband; And so much dutie, as my Mother
shew'd

To you, preferring you before her Father: So much I challenge, that I
may professe

Due to the Moore my Lord

Bra. God be with you: I haue done.

Please it your Grace, on to the State Affaires; I had rather to adopt a
Child, then get it. Come hither Moore;

I here do giue thee that with all my heart, Which but thou hast
already, with all my heart I would keepe from thee. For your sake
(Iewell) I am glad at soule, I haue no other Child, For thy escape
would teach me Tirranie

To hang clogges on them. I haue done my Lord

Duke. Let me speake like your selfe:

And lay a Sentence,

Which as a grise, or step may helpe these Louers. When remedies are
past, the griefes are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes
depended. To mourne a Mischeefe that is past and gon, Is the next way
to draw new mischiefe on. What cannot be preseru'd, when Fortune takes:
Patience, her Iniury a mock'ry makes.

The rob'd that smiles, steales something from the Thiefe, He robs
himselfe, that spends a bootelesse griefe

Bra. So let the Turke of Cyprus vs beguile, We loose it not so long
as we can smile:

He beares the Sentence well, that nothing beares, But the free comfort
which from thence he heares. But he beares both the Sentence, and the
sorrow, That to pay griefe, must of poore Patience borrow. These
Sentences, to Sugar, or to Gall,

Being strong on both sides, are Equiuocall. But words are words, I
neuer yet did heare: That the bruized heart was pierc'd through the
eares. I humbly beseech you proceed to th' Affaires of State

Duke. The Turke with a most mighty Preparation makes for Cyprus:
Othello, the Fortitude of the place is best knowne to you. And though
we haue there a Substitute of most allowed sufficiencie; yet opinion, a
more soueraigne Mistris of Effects, throwes a more safer voice on you:
you must therefore be content to slubber the glosse of your new
Fortunes, with this more stubborne, and boystrous expedition

Othe. The Tirant Custome, most Graue Senators, Hath made the flinty
and Steele Coach of Warre My thrice-driuen bed of Downe. I do agnize A
Naturall and prompt Alacratie,

I finde in hardnesse: and do vndertake

This present Warres against the Ottamites. Most humbly therefore
bending to your State, I craue fit disposition for my Wife,

Due reference of Place, and Exhibition,

With such Accomodation and besort

As leuels with her breeding

Duke. Why at her Fathers?

Bra. I will not haue it so

Othe. Nor I

Des. Nor would I there recide,

To put my Father in impatient thoughts

By being in his eye. Most Gracious Duke,

To my vnfolding, lend your prosperous eare, And let me finde a Charter
in your voice

T' assist my simplenesse

Duke. What would you Desdemona?

Des. That I loue the Moore, to liue with him, My downe-right
violence, and storme of Fortunes, May trumpet to the world. My heart's
subdu'd Euen to the very quality of my Lord;

I saw Othello's visage in his mind,

And to his Honours and his valiant parts, Did I my soule and Fortunes
consecrate.

So that (deere Lords) if I be left behind A Moth of Peace, and he go to
the Warre,

The Rites for why I loue him, are bereft me: And I a heauie interim
shall support

By his deere absence. Let me go with him

Othe. Let her haue your voice.

Vouch with me Heauen, I therefore beg it not To please the pallate of
my Appetite:

Nor to comply with heat the yong affects

In my defunct, and proper satisfaction.

But to be free, and bounteous to her minde: And Heauen defend your good
soules, that you thinke I will your serious and great businesse scant
When she is with me. No, when light wing'd Toyes Of feather'd Cupid,
seele with wanton dulnesse My speculatiue, and offic'd Instrument:

That my Disports corrupt, and taint my businesse: Let House-wiues make
a Skillet of my Helme, And all indigne, and base aduersities,

Make head against my Estimation

Duke. Be it as you shall priuately determine, Either for her stay,
or going: th' Affaire cries hast: And speed must answer it

Sen. You must away to night

Othe. With all my heart

Duke. At nine i'th' morning, here wee'l meete againe. Othello, leaue
some Officer behind

And he shall our Commission bring to you: And such things else of
qualitie and respect As doth import you

Othe. So please your Grace, my Ancient, A man he is of honesty and
trust:

To his conueyance I assigne my wife,

With what else needfull, your good Grace shall think To be sent after
me

Duke. Let it be so:

Good night to euery one. And Noble Signior, If Vertue no delighted
Beautie lacke,

Your Son-in-law is farre more Faire then Blacke

Sen. Adieu braue Moore, vse Desdemona well

Bra. Looke to her (Moore) if thou hast eies to see: She ha's
deceiu'd her Father, and may thee. Enter.

Othe. My life vpon her faith. Honest Iago, My Desdemona must I leaue
to thee:

I prythee let thy wife attend on her,

And bring them after in the best aduantage. Come Desdemona, I haue but
an houre

Of Loue, of wordly matter, and direction

To spend with thee. We must obey the time. Enter.

Rod. Iago

Iago. What saist thou Noble heart?

Rod. What will I do, think'st thou?

Iago. Why go to bed and sleepe

Rod. I will incontinently drowne my selfe

Iago. If thou do'st, I shall neuer loue thee after. Why thou silly
Gentleman?

Rod. It is sillynesse to liue, when to liue is torment: and then haue
we a prescription to dye, when death is our Physition

Iago. Oh villanous: I haue look'd vpon the world for foure times
seuen yeares, and since I could distinguish betwixt a Benefit, and an
Iniurie: I neuer found man that knew how to loue himselfe. Ere I would
say, I would drowne my selfe for the loue of a Gynney Hen, I would
change my Humanity with a Baboone

Rod. What should I do? I confesse it is my shame to be so fond, but
it is not in my vertue to amend it

Iago. Vertue? A figge, 'tis in our selues that we are thus, or thus.
Our Bodies are our Gardens, to the which, our Wills are Gardiners. So
that if we will plant Nettels, or sowe Lettice: Set Hisope, and weede
vp Time: Supplie it with one gender of Hearbes, or distract it with
many: either to haue it sterrill with idlenesse, or manured with
Industry, why the power, and Corrigeable authoritie of this lies in our
Wills. If the braine of our liues had not one Scale of Reason, to poize
another of Sensualitie, the blood, and basenesse of our Natures would
conduct vs to most prepostrous Conclusions. But we haue Reason to coole
our raging Motions, our carnall Stings, or vnbitted Lusts: whereof I
take this, that you call Loue, to be a Sect, or Seyen

Rod. It cannot be

Iago. It is meerly a Lust of the blood, and a permission of the
will. Come, be a man: drowne thy selfe? Drown Cats, and blind Puppies.
I haue profest me thy Friend, and I confesse me knit to thy deseruing,
with Cables of perdurable toughnesse. I could neuer better steed thee
then now. Put Money in thy purse: follow thou the Warres, defeate thy
fauour, with an vsurp'd Beard. I say put Money in thy purse. It cannot
be long that Desdemona should continue her loue to the Moore. Put Money
in thy purse: nor he his to her. It was a violent Commencement in her,
and thou shalt see an answerable Sequestration, put but Money in thy
purse. These Moores

are changeable in their wils: fill thy purse with Money. The Food that
to him now is as lushious as Locusts, shalbe to him shortly, as bitter
as Coloquintida. She must change for youth: when she is sated with his
body she will find the errors of her choice. Therefore, put Money in
thy purse. If thou wilt needs damne thy selfe, do it a more delicate
way then drowning. Make all the Money thou canst: If Sanctimonie, and a
fraile vow, betwixt an erring Barbarian, and super-subtle Venetian be
not too hard for my wits, and all the Tribe of hell, thou shalt enioy
her: therefore make Money: a pox of drowning thy selfe, it is cleane
out of the way. Seeke thou rather to be hang'd in Compassing thy ioy,
then to be drown'd, and go without her

Rodo. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue?

Iago. Thou art sure of me: Go make Money: I haue told thee often, and
I re-tell thee againe, and againe, I hate the Moore. My cause is
hearted; thine hath no lesse reason. Let vs be coniunctiue in our
reuenge, against him. If thou canst Cuckold him, thou dost thy selfe a
pleasure, me a sport. There are many Euents in the Wombe of Time, which
wilbe deliuered. Trauerse, go, prouide thy Money. We will haue more of
this to morrow. Adieu

Rod. Where shall we meete i'th' morning?   Iago. At my Lodging

Rod. Ile be with thee betimes

Iago. Go too, farewell. Do you heare Rodorigo?   Rod. Ile sell all
my Land.

Enter.

Iago. Thus do I euer make my Foole, my purse: For I mine owne gain'd
knowledge should prophane If I would time expend with such Snipe,

But for my Sport, and Profit: I hate the Moore, And it is thought
abroad, that 'twixt my sheets She ha's done my Office. I know not if't
be true, But I, for meere suspition in that kinde, Will do, as if for
Surety. He holds me well, The better shall my purpose worke on him:
Cassio's a proper man: Let me see now,

To get his Place, and to plume vp my will In double Knauery. How? How?
Let's see.

After some time, to abuse Othello's eares, That he is too familiar with
his wife:

He hath a person, and a smooth dispose

To be suspected: fram'd to make women false. The Moore is of a free,
and open Nature,

That thinkes men honest, that but seeme to be so, And will as tenderly
be lead by'th' Nose

As Asses are:

I hau't: it is engendred: Hell, and Night, Must bring this monstrous
Birth, to the worlds light.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Montano, and two Gentlemen.

Mon. What from the Cape, can you discerne at Sea?   1.Gent. Nothing
at all, it is a high wrought Flood: I cannot 'twixt the Heauen, and the
Maine, Descry a Saile

Mon. Me thinks, the wind hath spoke aloud at Land, A fuller blast
ne're shooke our Battlements: If it hath ruffiand so vpon the Sea,

What ribbes of Oake, when Mountaines melt on them, Can hold the
Morties. What shall we heare of this?   2 A Segregation of the Turkish
Fleet:

For do but stand vpon the Foaming Shore,

The chidden Billow seemes to pelt the Clowds, The winde-shak'd-Surge,
with high & monstrous Maine Seemes to cast water on the burning Beare,
And quench the Guards of th' euer-fixed Pole: I neuer did like
mollestation view

On the enchafed Flood

Men. If that the Turkish Fleete

Be not enshelter'd, and embay'd, they are drown'd, It is impossible to
beare it out.

Enter a Gentleman.

3 Newes Laddes: our warres are done:

The desperate Tempest hath so bang'd the Turkes, That their designement
halts. A Noble ship of Venice, Hath seene a greeuous wracke and
sufferance On most part of their Fleet

Mon. How? Is this true?

3 The Ship is heere put in: A Verennessa, Michael Cassio Lieutenant
to the warlike Moore, Othello, Is come on Shore: the Moore himselfe at
Sea, And is in full Commission heere for Cyprus

Mon. I am glad on't:

'Tis a worthy Gouernour

3 But this same Cassio, though he speake of comfort, Touching the
Turkish losse, yet he lookes sadly, And praye the Moore be safe; for
they were parted With fowle and violent Tempest

Mon. Pray Heauens he be:

For I haue seru'd him, and the man commands Like a full Soldier. Let's
to the Sea-side (hoa) As well to see the Vessell that's come in, As to
throw-out our eyes for braue Othello, Euen till we make the Maine, and
th' Eriall blew, An indistinct regard

Gent. Come, let's do so;

For euery Minute is expectancie

Of more Arriuancie.

Enter Cassio.

Cassi. Thankes you, the valiant of the warlike Isle, That so approoue
the Moore: Oh let the Heauens Giue him defence against the Elements,

For I haue lost him on a dangerous Sea

Mon. Is he well ship'd?

Cassio. His Barke is stoutly Timber'd, and his Pylot Of verie expert,
and approu'd Allowance;

Therefore my hope's (not surfetted to death) Stand in bold Cure

Within. A Saile, a Saile, a Saile

Cassio. What noise?

Gent. The Towne is empty; on the brow o'th' Sea Stand rankes of
People and they cry, a Saile

Cassio. My hopes do shape him for the Gouernor

Gent. They do discharge their Shot of Courtesie, Our Friends, at
least

Cassio. I pray you Sir, go forth,

And giue vs truth who 'tis that is arriu'd

Gent. I shall.

Enter.

Mon. But good Lieutenant, is your Generall wiu'd?   Cassio. Most
fortunately: he hath atchieu'd a Maid That paragons description, and
wilde Fame: One that excels the quirkes of Blazoning pens, And in th'
essentiall Vesture of Creation, Do's tyre the Ingeniuer.

Enter Gentleman.

How now? Who ha's put in?

Gent. 'Tis one Iago, Auncient to the Generall

Cassio. Ha's had most fauourable, and happie speed: Tempests
themselues, high Seas, and howling windes, The gutter'd-Rockes, and
Congregated Sands, Traitors ensteep'd, to enclogge the guiltlesse
Keele, As hauing sence of Beautie, do omit

Their mortall Natures, letting go safely by The Diuine Desdemona

Mon. What is she?

Cassio. She that I spake of:

Our great Captains Captaine,

Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,

Whose footing heere anticipates our thoughts, A Senights speed. Great
Ioue, Othello guard, And swell his Saile with thine owne powrefull
breath, That he may blesse this Bay with his tall Ship, Make loues
quicke pants in Desdemonaes Armes, Giue renew'd fire to our extincted
Spirits.

Enter Desdemona, Iago, Rodorigo, and Aemilia.

Oh behold,

The Riches of the Ship is come on shore:

You men of Cyprus, let her haue your knees. Haile to thee Ladie: and
the grace of Heauen, Before, behinde thee, and on euery hand

Enwheele thee round

Des. I thanke you, Valiant Cassio,

What tydings can you tell of my Lord?

Cas. He is not yet arriu'd, nor know I ought But that he's well, and
will be shortly heere

Des. Oh, but I feare:

How lost you company?

Cassio. The great Contention of Sea, and Skies Parted our fellowship.
But hearke, a Saile

Within. A Saile, a Saile

Gent. They giue this greeting to the Cittadell: This likewise is a
Friend

Cassio. See for the Newes:

Good Ancient, you are welcome. Welcome Mistris: Let it not gaule your
patience (good Iago) That I extend my Manners. 'Tis my breeding, That
giues me this bold shew of Curtesie

Iago. Sir, would she giue you so much of her lippes, As of her
tongue she oft bestowes on me,

You would haue enough

Des. Alas: she ha's no speech

Iago. Infaith too much:

I finde it still, when I haue leaue to sleepe. Marry before your
Ladyship, I grant,

She puts her tongue a little in her heart, And chides with thinking

aemil. You haue little cause to say so

Iago. Come on, come on: you are Pictures out of doore: Bells in your
Parlours: Wilde-Cats in your Kitchens: Saints in your Iniuries: Diuels
being offended: Players in your Huswiferie, and Huswiues in your Beds

Des. Oh, fie vpon thee, Slanderer

Iago. Nay, it is true: or else I am a Turke, You rise to play, and
go to bed to worke. Aemil. You shall not write my praise

Iago. No, let me not

Desde. What would'st write of me, if thou should'st praise me?

Iago. Oh, gentle Lady, do not put me too't, For I am nothing, if not
Criticall

Des. Come on, assay.

There's one gone to the Harbour?

Iago. I Madam

Des. I am not merry: but I do beguile

The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.

Come, how would'st thou praise me?

Iago. I am about it, but indeed my inuention comes from my pate, as
Birdlyme do's from Freeze, it pluckes out Braines and all. But my Muse
labours, and thus she is deliuer'd.

If she be faire, and wise: fairenesse, and wit, The ones for vse, the
other vseth it

Des. Well prais'd:

How if she be Blacke and Witty?

Iago. If she be blacke, and thereto haue a wit, She'le find a white,
that shall her blacknesse fit

Des. Worse, and worse.

Aemil. How if Faire, and Foolish?

Iago. She neuer yet was foolish that was faire, For euen her folly
helpt her to an heire

Desde. These are old fond Paradoxes, to make Fooles laugh i'th'
Alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that's Foule, and
Foolish

Iago. There's none so foule and foolish thereunto, But do's foule
pranks, which faire, and wise-ones do

Desde. Oh heauy ignorance: thou praisest the worst best. But what
praise could'st thou bestow on a deseruing woman indeed? One, that in
the authorithy of her merit, did iustly put on the vouch of very malice
it selfe

Iago. She that was euer faire, and neuer proud, Had Tongue at will,
and yet was neuer loud: Neuer lackt Gold, and yet went neuer gay, Fled
from her wish, and yet said now I may. She that being angred, her
reuenge being nie, Bad her wrong stay, and her displeasure flie: She
that in wisedome neuer was so fraile, To change the Cods-head for the
Salmons taile: She that could thinke, and neu'r disclose her mind, See
Suitors following, and not looke behind: She was a wight, (if euer such
wightes were)   Des. To do what?

Iago. To suckle Fooles, and chronicle small Beere

Desde. Oh most lame and impotent conclusion. Do not learne of him
aemillia, though he be thy husband. How say you (Cassio) is he not a
most prophane, and liberall Counsailor?

Cassio. He speakes home (Madam) you may rellish him more in the
Souldier, then in the Scholler

Iago. He takes her by the palme: I, well said, whisper. With as
little a web as this, will I ensnare as great a Fly as Cassio. I smile
vpon her, do: I will giue thee in thine owne Courtship. You say true,
'tis so indeed. If such tricks as these strip you out of your
Lieutenantrie, it had beene better you had not kiss'd your three
fingers so oft, which now againe you are most apt to play the Sir, in.
Very good: well kiss'd, and excellent Curtsie: 'tis so indeed. Yet
againe, your fingers to your lippes? Would they were Cluster-pipes for
your sake.

The Moore I know his Trumpet

Cassio. 'Tis truely so

Des. Let's meete him, and recieue him

Cassio. Loe, where he comes.

Enter Othello, and Attendants.

Oth. O, my faire Warriour

Des. My deere Othello

Othe. It giues me wonder great, as my content To see you heere
before me.

Oh my Soules Ioy:

If after euery Tempest, come such Calmes, May the windes blow, till
they haue waken'd death: And let the labouring Barke climbe hills of
Seas Olympus high: and duck againe as low,

As hell's from Heauen. If it were now to dye, 'Twere now to be most
happy. For I feare, My Soule hath her content so absolute,

That not another comfort like to this,

Succeedes in vnknowne Fate

Des. The Heauens forbid

But that our Loues

And Comforts should encrease

Euen as our dayes do grow

Othe. Amen to that (sweet Powers)

I cannot speake enough of this content,

It stoppes me heere: it is too much of ioy. And this, and this the
greatest discords be That ere our hearts shall make

Iago. Oh you are well tun'd now: But Ile set downe the peggs that
make this Musicke, as honest as I am

Othe. Come: let vs to the Castle.

Newes (Friends) our Warres are done:

The Turkes are drown'd.

How do's my old Acquaintance of this Isle? (Hony) you shall be well
desir'd in Cyprus, I haue found great loue among'st them. Oh my Sweet,
I prattle out of fashion, and I doate

In mine owne comforts. I prythee, good Iago, Go to the Bay, and
disimbarke my Coffers: Bring thou the Master to the Cittadell,

He is a good one, and his worthynesse

Do's challenge much respect. Come Desdemona, Once more well met at
Cyprus.

Exit Othello and Desdemona.

Iago. Do thou meet me presently at the Harbour. Come thither, if thou
be'st Valiant, (as they say base men being in Loue, haue then a
Nobilitie in their Natures, more then is natiue to them) list-me; the
Lieutenant to night watches on the Court of Guard. First, I must tell
thee this: Desdemona, is directly in loue with him

Rod. With him? Why, 'tis not possible

Iago. Lay thy finger thus: and let thy soule be instructed. Marke me
with what violence she first lou'd the Moore, but for bragging, and
telling her fantasticall lies. To loue him still for prating, let not
thy discreet heart thinke it. Her eye must be fed. And what delight
shall she haue to looke on the diuell? When the Blood is made dull with
the Act of Sport, there should be a game to enflame it, and to giue
Satiety a fresh appetite. Louelinesse in fauour, simpathy in yeares,
Manners, and Beauties: all which the Moore is defectiue in. Now for
want of these requir'd Conueniences, her delicate tendernesse wil finde
it selfe abus'd, begin to heaue the, gorge, disrellish and abhorre the
Moore, very Nature wil instruct her in it, and compell her to some
second choice. Now Sir, this granted (as it is a most pregnant and
vnforc'd position) who stands so eminent in the degree of this Fortune,
as Cassio do's: a knaue very voluble: no further conscionable, then in
putting on the meere forme of Ciuill, and Humaine seeming, for the
better compasse of his salt, and most hidden loose Affection? Why none,
why none: A slipper, and subtle knaue, a finder of occasion: that he's
an eye can stampe, and counterfeit Aduantages, though true Aduantage
neuer present it selfe. A diuelish knaue: besides, the knaue is
handsome, young: and hath all those requisites in him, that folly and
greene mindes looke after. A pestilent compleat knaue, and the woman
hath found him already

Rodo. I cannot beleeue that in her, she's full of most bless'd
condition

Iago. Bless'd figges-end. The Wine she drinkes is made of grapes. If
shee had beene bless'd, shee would neuer haue lou'd the Moore: Bless'd
pudding. Didst thou not see her paddle with the palme of his hand?
Didst not marke that?

Rod. Yes, that I did: but that was but curtesie

Iago . Leacherie by this hand: an Index, and obscure prologue to the
History of Lust and foule Thoughts. They met so neere with their
lippes, that their breathes embrac'd together. Villanous thoughts
Rodorigo, when these mutabilities so marshall the way, hard at hand
comes the Master, and maine exercise, th' incorporate conclusion: Pish.
But Sir, be you rul'd by me. I haue brought you from Venice. Watch you
to night: for the Command, Ile lay't vpon you. Cassio knowes you not:
Ile not be farre from you. Do you finde 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 fauorably minister

Rod. Well

Iago. Sir, he's rash, and very sodaine in Choller: and happely may
strike at you, prouoke him that he may: for euen out of that will I
cause these of Cyprus to Mutiny. Whose qualification shall come into no
true taste againe, but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you haue
a shorter iourney to your desires, by the meanes I shall then haue to
preferre them. And the impediment most profitably remoued, without the
which there were no expectation of our prosperitie

Rodo. I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity

Iago. I warrant thee. Meete me by and by at the Cittadell. I must
fetch his Necessaries a Shore. Farewell

Rodo. Adieu.

Enter.

Iago. That Cassio loues her, I do well beleeu't: That she loues him,
'tis apt, and of great Credite. The Moore (howbeit that I endure him
not) Is of a constant, louing, Noble Nature,

And I dare thinke, he'le proue to Desdemona A most deere husband. Now I
do loue her too, Not out of absolute Lust, (though peraduenture I stand
accomptant for as great a sin)

But partely led to dyet my Reuenge,

For that I do suspect the lustie Moore

Hath leap'd into my Seate. The thought whereof, Doth (like a poysonous
Minerall) gnaw my Inwardes: And nothing can, or shall content my Soule
Till I am eeuen'd with him, wife, for wife. Or fayling so, yet that I
put the Moore,

At least into a Ielouzie so strong

That iudgement cannot cure. Which thing to do, If this poore Trash of
Venice, whom I trace For his quicke hunting, stand the putting on, Ile
haue our Michael Cassio on the hip,

Abuse him to the Moore, in the right garbe (For I feare Cassio with my
Night-Cape too) Make the Moore thanke me, loue me, and reward me, For
making him egregiously an Asse,

And practising vpon his peace, and quiet, Euen to madnesse. 'Tis heere:
but yet confus'd, Knaueries plaine face, is neuer seene, till vs'd.
Enter.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Othello's Herald with a Proclamation.

Herald. It is Othello's pleasure, our Noble and Valiant Generall.
That vpon certaine tydings now arriu'd, importing the meere perdition
of the Turkish Fleete: euery man put himselfe into Triumph. Some to
daunce, some to make Bonfires, each man, to what Sport and Reuels his
addition leads him. For besides these beneficiall Newes, it is the
Celebration of his Nuptiall. So much was his pleasure should be
proclaimed. All offices are open, & there is full libertie of Feasting
from this present houre of fiue, till the Bell haue told eleuen. Blesse
the Isle of Cyprus, and our Noble Generall Othello. Enter.

Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants.

Othe. Good Michael, looke you to the guard to night. Let's teach our
selues that Honourable stop, Not to out-sport discretion

Cas. Iago, hath direction what to do.

But notwithstanding with my personall eye Will I looke to't

Othe. Iago, is most honest:

Michael, goodnight. To morrow with your earliest, Let me haue speech
with you. Come my deere Loue, The purchase made, the fruites are to
ensue, That profit's yet to come 'tweene me, and you. Goodnight.

Enter.

Enter Iago.

Cas. Welcome Iago: we must to the Watch

Iago. Not this houre Lieutenant: 'tis not yet ten o'th' clocke. Our
Generall cast vs thus earely for the loue of his Desdemona: Who, let vs
not therefore blame; he hath not yet made wanton the night with her:
and she is sport for Ioue

Cas. She's a most exquisite Lady

Iago. And Ile warrant her, full of Game

Cas. Indeed shes a most fresh and delicate creature

Iago. What an eye she ha's?

Me thinkes it sounds a parley to prouocation

Cas. An inuiting eye:

And yet me thinkes right modest

Iago. And when she speakes,

Is it not an Alarum to Loue?

Cas. She is indeed perfection

Iago. Well: happinesse to their Sheetes. Come Lieutenant, I haue a
stope of Wine, and heere without are a brace of Cyprus Gallants, that
would faine haue a measure to the health of blacke Othello

Cas. Not to night, good Iago, I haue very poore, and vnhappie
Braines for drinking. I could well wish Curtesie would inuent some
other Custome of entertainment

Iago. Oh, they are our Friends: but one Cup, Ile drinke for you

Cassio. I haue drunke but one Cup to night, and that was craftily
qualified too: and behold what inouation it makes heere. I am
infortunate in the infirmity, and dare not taske my weakenesse with any
more

Iago. What man? 'Tis a night of Reuels, the Gallants desire it

Cas. Where are they?

Iago. Heere, at the doore: I pray you call them in

Cas. Ile do't, but it dislikes me.

Enter.

Iago. If I can fasten but one Cup vpon him With that which he hath
drunke to night alreadie, He'l be as full of Quarrell, and offence

As my yong Mistris dogge.

Now my sicke Foole Rodorigo,

Whom Loue hath turn'd almost the wrong side out, To Desdemona hath to
night Carrows'd.

Potations, pottle-deepe; and he's to watch. Three else of Cyprus, Noble
swelling Spirites, (That hold their Honours in a wary distance, The
very Elements of this Warrelike Isle) Haue I to night fluster'd with
flowing Cups, And they Watch too.

Now 'mongst this Flocke of drunkards

Am I put to our Cassio in some Action

That may offend the Isle. But here they come. Enter Cassio, Montano,
and Gentlemen.

If Consequence do but approue my dreame,

My Boate sailes freely, both with winde and Streame

Cas. 'Fore heauen, they haue giuen me a rowse already

Mon. Good-faith a litle one: not past a pint, as I am a Souldier

Iago. Some Wine hoa.

And let me the Cannakin clinke, clinke:

And let me the Cannakin clinke.

A Souldiers a man: Oh, mans life's but a span, Why then let a Souldier
drinke.

Some Wine Boyes

Cas. 'Fore Heauen: an excellent Song

Iago. I learn'd it in England: where indeed they are most potent in
Potting. Your Dane, your Germaine, and your swag-belly'd Hollander,
(drinke hoa) are nothing to your English

Cassio. Is your Englishmen so exquisite in his drinking?   Iago.
Why, he drinkes you with facillitie, your Dane dead drunke. He sweates
not to ouerthrow your Almaine. He giues your Hollander a vomit, ere the
next Pottle can be fill'd

Cas. To the health of our Generall

Mon. I am for it Lieutenant: and Ile do you Iustice

Iago. Oh sweet England.

King Stephen was anda worthy Peere,

His Breeches cost him but a Crowne,

He held them Six pence all to deere,

With that he cal'd the Tailor Lowne:

He was a wight of high Renowne,

And thou art but of low degree:

'Tis Pride that pulls the Country downe,

And take thy awl'd Cloake about thee.

Some Wine hoa

Cassio. Why this is a more exquisite Song then the other

Iago. Will you heare't againe?

Cas. No: for I hold him to be vnworthy of his Place, that do's those
things. Well: heau'ns aboue all: and there be soules must be saued, and
there be soules must not be saued

Iago. It's true, good Lieutenant

Cas. For mine owne part, no offence to the Generall, nor any man of
qualitie: I hope to be saued

Iago. And so do I too Lieutenant

Cassio. I: (but by your leaue) not before me. The Lieutenant is to
be saued before the Ancient. Let's haue no more of this: let's to our
Affaires. Forgiue vs our sinnes: Gentlemen let's looke to our
businesse. Do not thinke Gentlemen, I am drunke: this is my Ancient,
this is my right hand, and this is my left. I am not drunke now: I can
stand well enough, and I speake well enough

Gent. Excellent well

Cas. Why very well then: you must not thinke then, that I am
drunke.

Enter.

Monta. To th' Platforme (Masters) come, let's set the Watch

Iago. You see this Fellow, that is gone before, He's a Souldier, fit
to stand by Caesar,

And giue direction. And do but see his vice, 'Tis to his vertue, a iust
Equinox,

The one as long as th' other. 'Tis pittie of him: I feare the trust
Othello puts him in,

On some odde time of his infirmitie

Will shake this Island

Mont. But is he often thus?

Iago. 'Tis euermore his prologue to his sleepe, He'le watch the
Horologe a double Set,

If Drinke rocke not his Cradle

Mont. It were well

The Generall were put in mind of it:

Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature Prizes the vertue that
appeares in Cassio, And lookes not on his euills: is not this true?
Enter Rodorigo.

Iago. How now Rodorigo?

I pray you after the Lieutenant, go

Mon. And 'tis great pitty, that the Noble Moore Should hazard such a
Place, as his owne Second With one of an ingraft Infirmitie,

It were an honest Action, to say so

To the Moore

Iago. Not I, for this faire Island,

I do loue Cassio well: and would do much

To cure him of this euill, But hearke, what noise? Enter Cassio
pursuing Rodorigo.

Cas. You Rogue: you Rascall

Mon. What's the matter Lieutenant?

Cas. A Knaue teach me my dutie? Ile beate the Knaue in to a
Twiggen-Bottle

Rod. Beate me?

Cas. Dost thou prate, Rogue?

Mon. Nay, good Lieutenant:

I pray you Sir, hold your hand

Cassio. Let me go (Sir)

Or Ile knocke you o're the Mazard

Mon. Come, come: you're drunke

Cassio. Drunke?

Iago. Away I say: go out and cry a Mutinie. Nay good Lieutenant. Alas
Gentlemen:

Helpe hoa. Lieutenant. Sir Montano:

Helpe Masters. Heere's a goodly Watch indeed. Who's that which rings
the Bell: Diablo, hoa: The Towne will rise. Fie, fie Lieutenant, You'le
be asham'd for euer.

Enter Othello, and Attendants.

Othe. What is the matter heere?

Mon. I bleed still, I am hurt to th' death. He dies

Othe. Hold for your liues

Iag. Hold hoa: Lieutenant, Sir Montano, Gentlemen: Haue you forgot
all place of sense and dutie? Hold. The Generall speaks to you: hold
for shame

Oth. Why how now hoa? From whence ariseth this? Are we turn'd
Turkes? and to our selues do that Which Heauen hath forbid the
Ottamittes.

For Christian shame, put by this barbarous Brawle: He that stirs next,
to carue for his owne rage, Holds his soule light: He dies vpon his
Motion. Silence that dreadfull Bell, it frights the Isle, From her
propriety. What is the matter, Masters? Honest Iago, that lookes dead
with greeuing, Speake: who began this? On thy loue I charge thee? Iago.
I do not know: Friends all, but now, euen now. In Quarter, and in
termes like Bride, and Groome Deuesting them for Bed: and then, but
now: (As if some Planet had vnwitted men)

Swords out, and tilting one at others breastes, In opposition bloody. I
cannot speake

Any begining to this peeuish oddes.

And would, in Action glorious, I had lost Those legges, that brought me
to a part of it

Othe. How comes it (Michaell) you are thus forgot?   Cas. I pray you
pardon me, I cannot speake

Othe. Worthy Montano, you were wont to be ciuill: The grauitie, and
stillnesse of your youth The world hath noted. And your name is great
In mouthes of wisest Censure. What's the matter That you vnlace your
reputation thus,

And spend your rich opinion, for the name Of a night-brawler? Giue me
answer to it

Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger, Your Officer Iago, can
informe you,

While I spare speech which something now offends me. Of all that I do
know, nor know I ought

By me, that's said, or done amisse this night, Vnlesse selfe-charitie
be sometimes a vice, And to defend our selues, it be a sinne

When violence assailes vs

Othe. Now by Heauen,

My blood begins my safer Guides to rule,

And passion (hauing my best iudgement collied) Assaies to leade the
way. If I once stir, Or do but lift this Arme, the best of you Shall
sinke in my rebuke. Giue me to know How this foule Rout began: Who set
it on, And he that is approu'd in this offence,

Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth, Shall loose me. What in
a Towne of warre, Yet wilde, the peoples hearts brim-full of feare, To
Manage priuate, and domesticke Quarrell? In night, and on the Court and
Guard of safetie? 'Tis monstrous: Iago, who began't?

Mon. If partially Affin'd, or league in office, Thou dost deliuer
more, or lesse then Truth, Thou art no Souldier

Iago. Touch me not so neere,

I had rather haue this tongue cut from my mouth, Then it should do
offence to Michaell Cassio. Yet I perswade my selfe, to speake the
truth Shall nothing wrong him. This it is Generall: Montano and my
selfe being in speech,

There comes a Fellow, crying out for helpe, And Cassio following him
with determin'd Sword To execute vpon him. Sir, this Gentleman, Steppes
in to Cassio, and entreats his pause: My selfe, the crying Fellow did
pursue,

Least by his clamour (as it so fell out)

The Towne might fall in fright. He, (swift of foote) Out-ran my
purpose: and I return'd then rather For that I heard the clinke, and
fall of Swords, And Cassio high in oath: Which till to night I nere
might say before. When I came backe (For this was briefe) I found them
close together At blow, and thrust, euen as againe they were When you
your selfe 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 beleeue receiu'd

From him that fled, some strange Indignitie, Which patience could not
passe

Othe. I know Iago

Thy honestie, and loue doth mince this matter, Making it light to
Cassio: Cassio, I loue thee, But neuer more be Officer of mine.

Enter Desdemona attended.

Looke if my gentle Loue be not rais'd vp: Ile make thee an example

Des. What is the matter (Deere?)

Othe. All's well, Sweeting:

Come away to bed. Sir for your hurts,

My selfe will be your Surgeon. Lead him off: Iago, looke with care
about the Towne,

And silence those whom this vil'd brawle distracted. Come Desdemona,
'tis the Soldiers life,

To haue their Balmy slumbers wak'd with strife. Enter.

Iago. What are you hurt Lieutenant?

Cas. I, past all Surgery

Iago. Marry Heauen forbid

Cas. Reputation, Reputation, Reputation: Oh I haue lost my
Reputation. I haue lost the immortall part of myselfe, and what
remaines is bestiall. My Reputation, Iago, my Reputation

Iago. As I am an honest man I had thought you had receiued some
bodily wound; there is more sence in that then in Reputation.
Reputation is an idle, and most false imposition; oft got without
merit, and lost without deseruing. You haue lost no Reputation at all,
vnlesse you repute your selfe such a looser. What man, there are more
wayes to recouer the Generall againe. You are but now cast in his
moode, (a punishment more in policie, then in malice) euen so as one
would beate his offencelesse dogge, to affright an Imperious Lyon. Sue
to him againe, and he's yours

Cas. I will rather sue to be despis'd, then to deceiue so good a
Commander, with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an Officer.
Drunke? And speake Parrat? And squabble? Swagger? Sweare? And discourse
Fustian with ones owne shadow? Oh thou invisible spirit of Wine, if
thou hast no name to be knowne by, let vs call thee Diuell

Iago. What was he that you follow'd with your Sword? What had he
done to you?

Cas. I know not

Iago. Is't possible?

Cas. I remember a masse of things, but nothing distinctly: a
Quarrell, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that men should put an Enemie in
their mouthes, to steale away their Braines? that we should with ioy,
pleasance, reuell and applause, transforme our selues into Beasts

Iago. Why? But you are now well enough: how came you thus
recouered?

Cas. It hath pleas'd the diuell drunkennesse, to giue place to the
diuell wrath, one vnperfectnesse, shewes me another to make me frankly
despise my selfe

Iago. Come, you are too seuere a Moraller. As the Time, the Place, &
the Condition of this Country stands I could hartily wish this had not
befalne: but since it is, as it is, mend it for your owne good

Cas. I will aske him for my Place againe, he shall tell me, I am a
drunkard: had I as many mouthes as Hydra, such an answer would stop
them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a Foole, and presently a
Beast. Oh strange! Euery inordinate cup is vnbless'd, and the
Ingredient is a diuell

Iago. Come, come: good wine, is a good familiar Creature, if it be
well vs'd: exclaime no more against it. And good Lieutenant, I thinke,
you thinke I loue you

Cassio. I haue well approued it, Sir. I drunke?   Iago. You, or any
man liuing, may be drunke at a time man. I tell you what you shall do:
Our General's Wife, is now the Generall. I may say so, in this respect,
for that he hath deuoted, and giuen vp himselfe to the Contemplation,
marke: and deuotement of her parts and Graces. Confesse your selfe
freely to her: Importune her helpe to put you in your place againe. She
is of so free, so kinde, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it
a vice in her goodnesse, not to do more then she is requested. This
broken ioynt betweene you, and her husband, entreat her to splinter.
And my Fortunes against any lay worth naming, this cracke of your Loue,
shall grow stronger, then it was before

Cassio. You aduise me well

Iago. I protest in the sinceritie of Loue, and honest kindnesse

Cassio. I thinke it freely: and betimes in the morning, I will
beseech the vertuous Desdemona to vndertake for me: I am desperate of
my Fortunes if they check me

Iago. You are in the right: good night Lieutenant, I must to the
Watch

Cassio. Good night, honest Iago.

Exit Cassio.

Iago. And what's he then,

That saies I play the Villaine?

When this aduise is free I giue, and honest, Proball to thinking, and
indeed the course To win the Moore againe.

For 'tis most easie

Th' inclyning Desdemona to subdue

In any honest Suite. She's fram'd as fruitefull As the free Elements.
And then for her

To win the Moore, were to renownce his Baptisme, All Seales, and
Simbols of redeemed sin:

His Soule is so enfetter'd to her Loue,

That she may make, vnmake, do what she list, Euen as her Appetite shall
play the God,

With his weake Function. How am I then a Villaine, To Counsell Cassio
to this paralell course, Directly to his good? Diuinitie of hell,

When diuels will the blackest sinnes put on, They do suggest at first
with heauenly shewes, As I do now. For whiles this honest Foole Plies
Desdemona, to repaire his Fortune,

And she for him, pleades strongly to the Moore, Ile powre this
pestilence into his eare:

That she repeales him, for her bodies Lust, And by how much she striues
to do him good, She shall vndo her Credite with the Moore. So will I
turne her vertue into pitch.

And out of her owne goodnesse make the Net, That shall en-mash them
all.

How now Rodorigo?

Enter Rodorigo.

Rodorigo. I do follow heere in the Chace, not like a Hound that
hunts, but one that filles vp the Crie. My Money is almost spent; I
haue bin to night exceedingly well Cudgell'd: And I thinke the issue
will bee, I shall haue so much experience for my paines; And so, with
no money at all, and a little more Wit, returne againe to Venice

Iago. How poore are they that haue not Patience? What wound did euer
heale but by degrees? Thou know'st we worke by Wit, and not by
Witchcraft And Wit depends on dilatory time:

Dos't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee, And thou by that small hurt
hath casheer'd Cassio: Though other things grow faire against the Sun,
Yet Fruites that blossome first, will first be ripe: Content thy selfe,
a-while. Introth 'tis Morning; Pleasure, and Action, make the houres
seeme short. Retire thee, go where thou art Billited:

Away, I say, thou shalt know more heereafter: Nay get thee gone.

Exit Roderigo.

Two things are to be done:

My Wife must moue for Cassio to her Mistris: Ile set her on my selfe, a
while, to draw the Moor apart, And bring him iumpe, when he may Cassio
finde Soliciting his wife: I, that's the way:

Dull not Deuice, by coldnesse, and delay. Enter.



Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Cassio, Musitians, and Clowne.

Cassio. Masters, play heere, I wil content your paines, Something
that's briefe: and bid, goodmorrow General

Clo. Why Masters, haue your Instruments bin in Naples, that they
speake i'th' Nose thus?

Mus. How Sir? how?

Clo. Are these I pray you, winde Instruments?   Mus. I marry are they
sir

Clo. Oh, thereby hangs a tale

Mus. Whereby hangs a tale, sir?

Clow. Marry sir, by many a winde Instrument that I know. But Masters,
heere's money for you: and the Generall so likes your Musick, that he
desires you for loues sake to make no more noise with it

Mus. Well Sir, we will not

Clo. If you haue any Musicke that may not be heard, too't againe.
But (as they say) to heare Musicke, the Generall do's not greatly care

Mus. We haue none such, sir

Clow. Then put vp your Pipes in your bagge, for Ile away. Go, vanish
into ayre, away.

Exit Mu.

Cassio. Dost thou heare me, mine honest Friend?   Clo. No, I heare
not your honest Friend: I heare you

Cassio. Prythee keepe vp thy Quillets, ther's a poore peece of Gold
for thee: if the Gentlewoman that attends the Generall be stirring,
tell her, there's one Cassio entreats her a little fauour of Speech.
Wilt thou do this?   Clo. She is stirring sir: if she will stirre
hither, I shall seeme to notifie vnto her.

Exit Clo.

Enter Iago.

In happy time, Iago

Iago. You haue not bin a-bed then?

Cassio. Why no: the day had broke before we parted. I haue made bold
(Iago) to send in to your wife: My suite to her is, that she will to
vertuous Desdemona Procure me some accesse

Iago. Ile send her to you presently:

And Ile deuise a meane to draw the Moore

Out of the way, that your conuerse and businesse May be more free.

Exit

Cassio. I humbly thanke you for't. I neuer knew A Florentine more
kinde, and honest.

Enter aemilia.

Aemil. Goodmorrow (good Lieutenant) I am sorrie For your displeasure:
but all will sure be well. The Generall and his wife are talking of it,
And she speakes for you stoutly. The Moore replies, That he you hurt is
of great Fame in Cyprus, And great Affinitie: and that in wholsome
Wisedome He might not but refuse you. But he protests he loues you And
needs no other Suitor, but his likings To bring you in againe

Cassio. Yet I beseech you,

If you thinke fit, or that it may be done, Giue me aduantage of some
breefe Discourse With Desdemon alone.

Aemil. Pray you come in:

I will bestow you where you shall haue time To speake your bosome
freely

Cassio. I am much bound to you.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen.

Othe. These Letters giue (Iago) to the Pylot, And by him do my duties
to the Senate:

That done, I will be walking on the Workes, Repaire there to mee

Iago. Well, my good Lord, Ile doo't

Oth. This Fortification (Gentlemen) shall we see't?   Gent. Well
waite vpon your Lordship.

Exeunt.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and aemilia.

Des. Be thou assur'd (good Cassio) I will do All my abilities in thy
behalfe.

Aemil. Good Madam do:

I warrant it greeues my Husband,

As if the cause were his

Des. Oh that's an honest Fellow, Do not doubt Cassio But I will haue
my Lord, and you againe

As friendly as you were

Cassio. Bounteous Madam,

What euer shall become of Michael Cassio, He's neuer any thing but your
true Seruant

Des. I know't: I thanke you: you do loue my Lord: You haue knowne
him long, and be you well assur'd He shall in strangenesse stand no
farther off, Then in a politique distance

Cassio. I, but Lady,

That policie may either last so long,

Or feede vpon such nice and waterish diet, Or breede it selfe so out of
Circumstances, That I being absent, and my place supply'd, My Generall
will forget my Loue, and Seruice

Des. Do not doubt that: before aemilia here, I giue thee warrant of
thy place. Assure thee, If I do vow a friendship, Ile performe it To
the last Article. My Lord shall neuer rest, Ile watch him tame, and
talke him out of patience; His Bed shall seeme a Schoole, his Boord a
Shrift, Ile intermingle euery thing he do's

With Cassio's suite: Therefore be merry Cassio, For thy Solicitor shall
rather dye,

Then giue thy cause away.

Enter Othello, and Iago.

Aemil. Madam, heere comes my Lord

Cassio. Madam, Ile take my leaue

Des. Why stay, and heare me speake

Cassio. Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease, Vnfit for mine owne
purposes

Des. Well, do your discretion.

Exit Cassio.

Iago. Hah? I like not that

Othel. What dost thou say?

Iago. Nothing my Lord; or if- I know not what

Othel. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?   Iago. Cassio my
Lord? No sure, I cannot thinke it That he would steale away so
guilty-like, Seeing your comming

Oth. I do beleeue 'twas he

Des. How now my Lord?

I haue bin talking with a Suitor heere,

A man that languishes in your displeasure

Oth. Who is't you meane?

Des. Why your Lieutenant Cassio: Good my Lord, If I haue any grace,
or power to moue you, His present reconciliation take.

For if he be not one, that truly loues you, That erres in Ignorance,
and not in Cunning, I haue no iudgement in an honest face.

I prythee call him backe

Oth. Went he hence now?

Des. I sooth; so humbled,

That he hath left part of his greefe with mee To suffer with him. Good
Loue, call him backe

Othel. Not now (sweet Desdemon) some other time

Des. But shall't be shortly?

Oth. The sooner (Sweet) for you

Des. Shall't be to night, at Supper?

Oth. No, not to night

Des. To morrow Dinner then?

Oth. I shall not dine at home:

I meete the Captaines at the Cittadell

Des. Why then to morrow night, on Tuesday morne, On Tuesday noone,
or night; on Wensday Morne. I prythee name the time, but let it not

Exceed three dayes. Infaith hee's penitent: And yet his Trespasse, in
our common reason (Saue that they say the warres must make example) Out
of her best, is not almost a fault

T' encurre a priuate checke. When shall he come? Tell me Othello. I
wonder in my Soule

What you would aske me, that I should deny, Or stand so mam'ring on?
What? Michael Cassio, That came a woing with you? and so many a time
(When I haue spoke of you dispraisingly)

Hath tane your part, to haue so much to do To bring him in? Trust me, I
could do much

Oth. Prythee no more: Let him come when he will: I will deny thee
nothing

Des. Why, this is not a Boone:

'Tis as I should entreate you weare your Gloues, Or feede on nourishing
dishes, or keepe you warme, Or sue to you, to do a peculiar profit

To your owne person. Nay, when I haue a suite Wherein I meane to touch
your Loue indeed, It shall be full of poize, and difficult waight, And
fearefull to be granted

Oth. I will deny thee nothing.

Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, To leaue me but a little to
my selfe

Des. Shall I deny you? No: farewell my Lord

Oth. Farewell my Desdemona, Ile come to thee strait

Des. aemilia come; be as your Fancies teach you: What ere you be, I
am obedient.

Enter.

Oth. Excellent wretch: Perdition catch my Soule But I do loue thee:
and when I loue thee not, Chaos is come againe

Iago. My Noble Lord

Oth. What dost thou say, Iago?

Iago. Did Michael Cassio

When he woo'd my Lady, know of your loue?   Oth. He did, from first to
last:

Why dost thou aske?

Iago. But for a satisfaction of my Thought, No further harme

Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago?

Iago. I did not thinke he had bin acquainted with hir

Oth. O yes, and went betweene vs very oft

Iago. Indeed?

Oth. Indeed? I indeed. Discern'st thou ought in that? Is he not
honest?

Iago. Honest, my Lord?

Oth. Honest? I, Honest

Iago. My Lord, for ought I know

Oth. What do'st thou thinke?

Iago. Thinke, my Lord?

Oth. Thinke, my Lord? Alas, thou ecchos't me; As if there were some
Monster in thy thought Too hideous to be shewne. Thou dost mean
somthing: I heard thee say euen now, thou lik'st not that, When Cassio
left my wife. What didd'st not like? And when I told thee, he was of my
Counsaile, Of my whole course of wooing; thou cried'st, Indeede? And
didd'st contract, and purse thy brow together, As if thou then hadd'st
shut vp in thy Braine Some horrible Conceite. If thou do'st loue me,
Shew me thy thought

Iago. My Lord, you know I loue you

Oth. I thinke thou do'st:

And for I know thou'rt full of Loue, and Honestie, And weigh'st thy
words before thou giu'st them breath, Therefore these stops of thine,
fright me the more: For such things in a false disloyall Knaue Are
trickes of Custome: but in a man that's iust, They're close dilations,
working from the heart, That Passion cannot rule

Iago. For Michael Cassio,

I dare be sworne, I thinke that he is honest

Oth. I thinke so too

Iago. Men should be what they seeme,

Or those that be not, would they might seeme none

Oth. Certaine, men should be what they seeme

Iago. Why then I thinke Cassio's an honest man

Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this?

I prythee speake to me, as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and
giue thy worst of thoughts The worst of words

Iago. Good my Lord pardon me,

Though I am bound to euery Acte of dutie, I am not bound to that: All
Slaues are free: Vtter my Thoughts? Why say, they are vild, and falce?
As where's that Palace, whereinto foule things Sometimes intrude not?
Who ha's that breast so pure, Wherein vncleanly Apprehensions

Keepe Leetes, and Law-dayes, and in Sessions sit With meditations
lawfull?

Oth. Thou do'st conspire against thy Friend (Iago) If thou but
think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st his eare A stranger to thy Thoughts

Iago. I do beseech you,

Though I perchance am vicious in my guesse (As I confesse it is my
Natures plague

To spy into Abuses, and of my iealousie

Shapes faults that are not) that your wisedome From one, that so
imperfectly conceits,

Would take no notice, nor build your selfe a trouble Out of his
scattering, and vnsure obseruance: It were not for your quiet, nor your
good, Nor for my Manhood, Honesty, and Wisedome, To let you know my
thoughts

Oth. What dost thou meane?

Iago. Good name in Man, & woman (deere my Lord) Is the immediate
Iewell of their Soules;

Who steales my purse, steales trash:

'Tis something, nothing;

'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has bin slaue to thousands: But he that
filches from me my good Name, Robs me of that, which not enriches him,

And makes me poore indeed

Oth. Ile know thy Thoughts

Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand, Nor shall not,
whil'st 'tis in my custodie

Oth. Ha?

Iago. Oh, beware my Lord, of iealousie, It is the greene-ey'd
Monster, which doth mocke The meate it feeds on. That Cuckold liues in
blisse, Who certaine of his Fate, loues not his wronger: But oh, what
damned minutes tels he ore,

Who dotes, yet doubts: Suspects, yet soundly loues?   Oth. O miserie

Iago. Poore, and Content, is rich, and rich enough, But Riches
finelesse, is as poore as Winter, To him that euer feares he shall be
poore: Good Heauen, the Soules of all my Tribe defend From Iealousie

Oth. Why? why is this?

Think'st thou, I'ld make a Life of Iealousie; To follow still the
changes of the Moone

With fresh suspitions? No: to be once in doubt, Is to be resolu'd:
Exchange me for a Goat, When I shall turne the businesse of my Soule To
such exufflicate, and blow'd Surmises, Matching thy inference. 'Tis not
to make me Iealious, To say my wife is faire, feeds well, loues
company, Is free of Speech, Sings, Playes, and Dances: Where Vertue is,
these are more vertuous. Nor from mine owne weake merites, will I draw
The smallest feare, or doubt of her reuolt, For she had eyes, and chose
me. No Iago,

Ile see before I doubt; when I doubt, proue; And on the proofe, there
is no more but this, Away at once with Loue, or Iealousie

Ia. I am glad of this: For now I shall haue reason To shew the Loue
and Duty that I beare you With franker spirit. Therefore (as I am
bound) Receiue it from me. I speake not yet of proofe: Looke to your
wife, obserue her well with Cassio, Weare your eyes, thus: not
Iealious, nor Secure: I would not haue your free, and Noble Nature, Out
of selfe-Bounty, be abus'd: Looke too't: I know our Country disposition
well:

In Venice, they do let Heauen see the prankes They dare not shew their
Husbands.

Their best Conscience,

Is not to leaue't vndone, but kept vnknowne

Oth. Dost thou say so?

Iago. She did deceiue her Father, marrying you, And when she seem'd
to shake, and feare your lookes, She lou'd them most

Oth. And so she did

Iago. Why go too then:

Shee that so young could giue out such a Seeming To seele her Fathers
eyes vp, close as Oake, He thought 'twas Witchcraft.

But I am much too blame:

I humbly do beseech you of your pardon

For too much louing you

Oth. I am bound to thee for euer

Iago. I see this hath a little dash'd your Spirits:   Oth. Not a
iot, not a iot

Iago. Trust me, I feare it has:

I hope you will consider what is spoke

Comes from your Loue.

But I do see y'are moou'd:

I am to pray you, not to straine my speech To grosser issues, nor to
larger reach,

Then to Suspition

Oth. I will not

Iago. Should you do so (my Lord)

My speech should fall into such vilde successe, Which my Thoughts aym'd
not.

Cassio's my worthy Friend:

My Lord, I see y'are mou'd

Oth. No, not much mou'd:

I do not thinke but Desdemona's honest

Iago. Long liue she so;

And long liue you to thinke so

Oth. And yet how Nature erring from it selfe

Iago. I, there's the point:

As (to be bold with you)

Not to affect many proposed Matches

Of her owne Clime, Complexion, and Degree, Whereto we see in all
things, Nature tends: Foh, one may smel in such, a will most ranke,
Foule disproportions, Thoughts vnnaturall. But (pardon me) I do not in
position

Distinctly speake of her, though I may feare Her will, recoyling to her
better iudgement, May fal to match you with her Country formes, And
happily repent

Oth. Farewell, farewell:

If more thou dost perceiue, let me know more: Set on thy wife to
obserue.

Leaue me Iago

Iago. My Lord, I take my leaue

Othel. Why did I marry?

This honest Creature (doubtlesse)

Sees, and knowes more, much more then he vnfolds

Iago. My Lord, I would I might intreat your Honor To scan this thing
no farther: Leaue it to time, Although 'tis fit that Cassio haue his
Place; For sure he filles it vp with great Ability; Yet if you please,
to him off a-while:

You shall by that perceiue him, and his meanes: Note if your Lady
straine his Entertainment With any strong, or vehement importunitie,
Much will be seene in that: In the meane time, Let me be thought too
busie in my feares, (As worthy cause I haue to feare I am)

And hold her free, I do beseech your Honor

Oth. Feare not my gouernment

Iago. I once more take my leaue.

Enter.

Oth. This Fellow's of exceeding honesty, And knowes all Quantities
with a learn'd Spirit Of humane dealings. If I do proue her Haggard,
Though that her Iesses were my deere heart-strings, I'ld whistle her
off, and let her downe the winde To prey at Fortune. Haply, for I am
blacke, And haue not those soft parts of Conuersation That Chamberers
haue: Or for I am declin'd Into the vale of yeares (yet that's not
much) Shee's gone. I am abus'd, and my releefe

Must be to loath her. Oh Curse of Marriage! That we can call these
delicate Creatures ours, And not their Appetites? I had rather be a
Toad, And liue vpon the vapour of a Dungeon,

Then keepe a corner in the thing I loue

For others vses. Yet 'tis the plague to Great-ones, Prerogatiu'd are
they lesse then the Base, 'Tis destiny vnshunnable, like death:

Euen then, this forked plague is Fated to vs, When we do quicken. Looke
where she comes: Enter Desdemona and aemilia.

If she be false, Heauen mock'd it selfe:

Ile not beleeue't

Des. How now, my deere Othello?

Your dinner, and the generous Islanders

By you inuited, do attend your presence

Oth. I am too blame

Des. Why do you speake so faintly?

Are you not well?

Oth. I haue a paine vpon my Forehead, heere

Des. Why that's with watching, 'twill away againe. Let me but binde
it hard, within this houre It will be well

Oth. Your Napkin is too little:

Let it alone: Come, Ile go in with you.

Enter.

Des. I am very sorry that you are not well. Aemil. I am glad I haue
found this Napkin: This was her first remembrance from the Moore, My
wayward Husband hath a hundred times

Woo'd me to steale it. But she so loues the Token, (For he coniur'd
her, she should euer keepe it) That she reserues it euermore about
her,

To kisse, and talke too. Ile haue the worke tane out, And giu't Iago:
what he will do with it

Heauen knowes, not I:

I nothing, but to please his Fantasie.

Enter Iago.

Iago. How now? What do you heere alone? Aemil. Do not you chide: I
haue a thing for you

Iago. You haue a thing for me?

It is a common thing-

Aemil. Hah?

Iago. To haue a foolish wife.

Aemil. Oh, is that all? What will you giue me now For that same
Handkerchiefe

Iago. What Handkerchiefe?

Aemil. What Handkerchiefe?

Why that the Moore first gaue to Desdemona, That which so often you did
bid me steale

Iago. Hast stolne it from her?

Aemil. No: but she let it drop by negligence, And to th' aduantage, I
being heere, took't vp: Looke, heere 'tis

Iago. A good wench, giue it me.

Aemil. What will you do with't, that you haue bene so earnest to haue
me filch it?

Iago. Why, what is that to you?

Aemil. If it be not for some purpose of import, Giu't me againe. Poore
Lady, shee'l run mad When she shall lacke it

Iago. Be not acknowne on't:

I haue vse for it. Go, leaue me.

Exit aemil.

I will in Cassio's Lodging loose this Napkin, And let him finde it.
Trifles light as ayre, Are to the iealious, confirmations strong, As
proofes of holy Writ. This may do something. The Moore already changes
with my poyson: Dangerous conceites, are in their Natures poysons,
Which at the first are scarse found to distaste: But with a little acte
vpon the blood,

Burne like the Mines of Sulphure. I did say so. Enter Othello.

Looke where he comes: Not Poppy, nor Mandragora, Nor all the drowsie
Syrrups of the world

Shall euer medicine thee to that sweete sleepe Which thou owd'st
yesterday

Oth. Ha, ha, false to mee?

Iago. Why how now Generall? No more of that

Oth. Auant, be gone: Thou hast set me on the Racke: I sweare 'tis
better to be much abus'd,

Then but to know't a little

Iago. How now, my Lord?

Oth. What sense had I, in her stolne houres of Lust? I saw't not,
thought it not: it harm'd not me: I slept the next night well, fed
well, was free, and merrie. I found not Cassio's kisses on her Lippes:
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolne, Let him not know't, and
he's not robb'd at all

Iago. I am sorry to heare this?

Oth. I had beene happy, if the generall Campe, Pyoners and all, had
tasted her sweet Body, So I had nothing knowne. Oh now, for euer
Farewell the Tranquill minde; farewell Content; Farewell the plumed
Troopes, and the bigge Warres, That makes Ambition, Vertue! Oh
farewell, Farewell the neighing Steed, and the shrill Trumpe, The
Spirit-stirring Drum, th' Eare-piercing Fife, The Royall Banner, and
all Qualitie,

Pride, Pompe, and Circumstance of glorious Warre: And O you mortall
Engines, whose rude throates Th' immortall Ioues dread Clamours,
counterfet, Farewell: Othello's Occupation's gone

Iago. Is't possible my Lord?

Oth. Villaine, be sure thou proue my Loue a Whore; Be sure of it:
Giue me the Occular proofe, Or by the worth of mine eternall Soule,

Thou had'st bin better haue bin borne a Dog Then answer my wak'd wrath

Iago. Is't come to this?

Oth. Make me to see't: or (at the least) so proue it, That the
probation beare no Hindge, nor Loope, To hang a doubt on: Or woe vpon
thy life

Iago. My Noble Lord

Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me, Neuer pray more:
Abandon all remorse

On Horrors head, Horrors accumulate:

Do deeds to make Heauen weepe, all Earth amaz'd; For nothing canst thou
to damnation adde, Greater then that

Iago. O Grace! O Heauen forgiue me!

Are you a Man? Haue you a Soule? or Sense? God buy you: take mine
Office. Oh wretched Foole, That lou'st to make thine Honesty, a Vice!
Oh monstrous world! Take note, take note (O World) To be direct and
honest, is not safe.

I thanke you for this profit, and from hence Ile loue no Friend, sith
Loue breeds such offence

Oth. Nay stay: thou should'st be honest

Iago. I should be wise; for Honestie's a Foole, And looses that it
workes for

Oth. By the World,

I thinke my Wife be honest, and thinke she is not: I thinke that thou
art iust, and thinke thou art not: Ile haue some proofe. My name that
was as fresh As Dians Visage, is now begrim'd and blacke As mine owne
face. If there be Cords, or Kniues, Poyson, or Fire, or suffocating
streames, Ile not indure it. Would I were satisfied

Iago. I see you are eaten vp with Passion: I do repent me, that I
put it to you.

You would be satisfied?

Oth. Would? Nay, and I will

Iago. And may: but how? How satisfied, my Lord? Would you the
super-vision grossely gape on? Behold her top'd?

Oth. Death, and damnation. Oh!

Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I thinke, To bring them to that
Prospect: Damne them then, If euer mortall eyes do see them boulster
More then their owne. What then? How then? What shall I say? Where's
Satisfaction?

It is impossible you should see this,

Were they as prime as Goates, as hot as Monkeyes, As salt as Wolues in
pride, and Fooles as grosse As Ignorance, made drunke. But yet, I say,
If imputation, and strong circumstances,

Which leade directly to the doore of Truth, Will giue you satisfaction,
you might haue't

Oth. Giue me a liuing reason she's disloyall

Iago. I do not like the Office.

But sith I am entred in this cause so farre (Prick'd too't by foolish
Honesty, and Loue) I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately,

And being troubled with a raging tooth,

I could not sleepe. There are a kinde of men, So loose of Soule, that
in their sleepes will mutter Their Affayres: one of this kinde is
Cassio: In sleepe I heard him say, sweet Desdemona, Let vs be wary, let
vs hide our Loues,

And then (Sir) would he gripe, and wring my hand: Cry, oh sweet
Creature: then kisse me hard, As if he pluckt vp kisses by the rootes,

That grew vpon my lippes, laid his Leg ore my Thigh, And sigh, and
kisse, and then cry cursed Fate, That gaue thee to the Moore

Oth. O monstrous! monstrous!

Iago. Nay, this was but his Dreame

Oth. But this denoted a fore-gone conclusion, 'Tis a shrew'd doubt,
though it be but a Dreame

Iago. And this may helpe to thicken other proofes, That do
demonstrate thinly

Oth. Ile teare her all to peeces

Iago. Nay yet be wise; yet we see nothing done, She may be honest
yet: Tell me but this,

Haue you not sometimes seene a Handkerchiefe Spotted with Strawberries,
in your wiues hand?   Oth. I gaue her such a one: 'twas my first gift

Iago. I know not that: but such a Handkerchiefe (I am sure it was
your wiues) did I to day See Cassio wipe his Beard with

Oth. If it be that

Iago. If it be that, or any, it was here. It speakes against her
with the other proofes

Othel. O that the Slaue had forty thousand liues: One is too poore,
too weake for my reuenge. Now do I see 'tis true. Looke heere Iago, All
my fond loue thus do I blow to Heauen. 'Tis gone. Arise blacke
vengeance, from the hollow hell, Yeeld vp (O Loue) thy Crowne, and
hearted Throne To tyrannous Hate. Swell bosome with thy fraught, For
'tis of Aspickes tongues

Iago. Yet be content

Oth. Oh blood, blood, blood

Iago. Patience I say: your minde may change

Oth. Neuer Iago. Like to the Ponticke Sea, Whose Icie Current, and
compulsiue course, Neu'r keepes retyring ebbe, but keepes due on To the
Proponticke, and the Hellespont:

Euen so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace Shall neu'r looke backe,
neu'r ebbe to humble Loue, Till that a capeable, and wide Reuenge

Swallow them vp. Now by yond Marble Heauen, In the due reuerence of a
Sacred vow,

I heere engage my words

Iago. Do not rise yet:

Witnesse you euer-burning Lights aboue,

You Elements, that clip vs round about,

Witnesse that heere Iago doth giue vp

The execution of his wit, hands, heart,

To wrong'd Othello's Seruice. Let him command, And to obey shall be in
me remorse,

What bloody businesse euer

Oth. I greet thy loue,

Not with vaine thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, And will vpon the
instant put thee too't. Within these three dayes let me heare thee say,
That Cassio's not aliue

Iago. My Friend is dead:

'Tis done at your Request.

But let her liue

Oth. Damne her lewde Minx:

O damne her, damne her.

Come go with me a-part, I will withdraw

To furnish me with some swift meanes of death For the faire Diuell.

Now art thou my Lieutenant

Iago. I am your owne for euer.

Exeunt.



Scaena Quarta.

Enter Desdemona, aemilia, and Clown.

Des. Do you know Sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lyes?

Clow. I dare not say he lies any where

Des. Why man?

Clo. He's a Soldier, and for me to say a Souldier lyes, 'tis
stabbing

Des. Go too: where lodges he?

Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tel you where I lye

Des. Can any thing be made of this?

Clo. I know not where he lodges, and for mee to deuise a lodging, and
say he lies heere, or he lies there, were to lye in mine owne throat

Des. Can you enquire him out? and be edified by report?   Clo. I
will Catechize the world for him, that is, make Questions, and by them
answer

Des. Seeke him, bidde him come hither: tell him, I haue moou'd my
Lord on his behalfe, and hope all will be well

Clo. To do this, is within the compasse of mans Wit, and therefore I
will attempt the doing it.

Exit Clo.

Des. Where should I loose the Handkerchiefe, aemilia? Aemil. I know
not Madam

Des. Beleeue me, I had rather haue lost my purse Full of Cruzadoes.
And but my Noble Moore Is true of minde, and made of no such basenesse,
As iealious Creatures are, it were enough To put him to ill-thinking.

Aemil. Is he not iealious?

Des. Who, he? I thinke the Sun where he was borne, Drew all such
humors from him.

Aemil. Looke where he comes.

Enter Othello.

Des. I will not leaue him now, till Cassio be Call'd to him. How is't
with you, my Lord?   Oth. Well my good Lady. Oh hardnes to dissemble!
How do you, Desdemona?

Des. Well, my good Lord

Oth. Giue me your hand.

This hand is moist, my Lady

Des. It hath felt no age, nor knowne no sorrow

Oth. This argues fruitfulnesse, and liberall heart: Hot, hot, and
moyst. This hand of yours requires A sequester from Liberty: Fasting,
and Prayer, Much Castigation, Exercise deuout,

For heere's a yong, and sweating Diuell heere That commonly rebels:
'Tis a good hand,

A franke one

Des. You may (indeed) say so:

For 'twas that hand that gaue away my heart

Oth. A liberall hand. The hearts of old, gaue hands: But our new
Heraldry is hands, not hearts

Des. I cannot speake of this:

Come, now your promise

Oth. What promise, Chucke?

Des. I haue sent to bid Cassio come speake with you

Oth. I haue a salt and sorry Rhewme offends me: Lend me thy
Handkerchiefe

Des. Heere my Lord

Oth. That which I gaue you

Des. I haue it not about me

Oth. Not?

Des. No indeed, my Lord

Oth. That's a fault: That Handkerchiefe Did an aegyptian to my
Mother giue:

She was a Charmer, and could almost read

The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it, 'T would make
her Amiable, and subdue my Father Intirely to her loue: But if she lost
it, Or made a Guift of it, my Fathers eye

Should hold her loathed, and his Spirits should hunt After new Fancies.
She dying, gaue it me, And bid me (when my Fate would haue me Wiu'd) To
giue it her. I did so; and take heede on't, Make it a Darling, like
your precious eye: To loose't, or giue't away, were such perdition, As
nothing else could match

Des. Is't possible?

Oth. 'Tis true: There's Magicke in the web of it: A Sybill that had
numbred in the world

The Sun to course, two hundred compasses, In her Prophetticke furie
sow'd the Worke: The Wormes were hallowed, that did breede the Silke,
And it was dyde in Mummey, which the Skilfull Conseru'd of Maidens
hearts

Des. Indeed? Is't true?

Oth. Most veritable, therefore looke too't well

Des. Then would to Heauen, that I had neuer seene't?   Oth. Ha?
wherefore?

Des. Why do you speake so startingly, and rash?   Oth. Is't lost?
Is't gon? Speak, is't out o'th' way?   Des. Blesse vs

Oth. Say you?

Des. It is not lost: but what and if it were?   Oth. How?

Des. I say it is not lost

Oth. Fetcht, let me see't

Des. Why so I can: but I will not now: This is a tricke to put me
from my suite, Pray you let Cassio be receiu'd againe

Oth. Fetch me the Handkerchiefe,

My minde mis-giues

Des. Come, come: you'l neuer meete a more sufficient man

Oth. The Handkerchiefe

Des. A man that all his time

Hath founded his good Fortunes on your loue; Shar'd dangers with you

Oth. The Handkerchiefe

Des. Insooth, you are too blame

Oth. Away.

Exit Othello.

Aemil. Is not this man iealious?

Des. I neu'r saw this before.

Sure, there's some wonder in this Handkerchiefe, I am most vnhappy in
the losse of it.

Aemil. 'Tis not a yeare or two shewes vs a man: They are all but
Stomackes, and we all but Food, They eate vs hungerly, and when they
are full They belch vs.

Enter Iago, and Cassio.

Looke you, Cassio and my Husband

Iago. There is no other way: 'tis she must doo't: And loe the
happinesse: go, and importune her

Des. How now (good Cassio) what's the newes with you?

Cassio. Madam, my former suite. I do beseech you, That by your
vertuous meanes, I may againe Exist, and be a member of his loue,

Whom I, with all the Office of my heart

Intirely honour, I would not be delayd.

If my offence, be of such mortall kinde,

That nor my Seruice past, nor present Sorrowes, Nor purpos'd merit in
futurity,

Can ransome me into his loue againe,

But to know so, must be my benefit:

So shall I cloath me in a forc'd content, And shut my selfe vp in some
other course To Fortunes Almes

Des. Alas (thrice-gentle Cassio)

My Aduocation is not now in Tune;

My Lord, is not my Lord; nor should I know him, Were he in Fauour, as
in Humour alter'd.

So helpe me euery spirit sanctified,

As I haue spoken for you all my best,

And stood within the blanke of his displeasure For my free speech. You
must awhile be patient: What I can do, I will: and more I will

Then for my selfe, I dare. Let that suffice you

Iago. Is my Lord angry?

Aemil. He went hence but now:

And certainly in strange vnquietnesse

Iago. Can he be angry? I haue seen the Cannon When it hath blowne
his Rankes into the Ayre, And like the Diuell from his very Arme

Puff't his owne Brother: And is he angry? Something of moment then: I
will go meet him, There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.

Exit

Des. I prythee do so. Something sure of State, Either from Venice, or
some vnhatch'd practise Made demonstrable heere in Cyprus, to him, Hath
pudled his cleare Spirit: and in such cases, Mens Natures wrangle with
inferiour things, Though great ones are their obiect. 'Tis euen so. For
let our finger ake, and it endues

Our other healthfull members, euen to a sense Of paine. Nay, we must
thinke men are not Gods, Nor of them looke for such obseruancie

As fits the Bridall. Beshrew me much, aemilia, I was (vnhandsome
Warrior, as I am)

Arraigning his vnkindnesse with my soule: But now I finde, I had
suborn'd the Witnesse, And he's Indited falsely.

Aemil. Pray heauen it bee

State matters, as you thinke, and no Conception, Nor no Iealious Toy,
concerning you

Des. Alas the day, I neuer gaue him cause. Aemil. But Iealious
soules will not be answer'd so; They are not euer iealious for the
cause, But iealious, for they're iealious. It is a Monster Begot vpon
it selfe, borne on it selfe

Des. Heauen keepe the Monster from Othello's mind. Aemil. Lady,
Amen

Des. I will go seeke him. Cassio, walke heere about: If I doe finde
him fit, Ile moue your suite, And seeke to effect it to my vttermost.

Exit

Cas. I humbly thanke your Ladyship.

Enter Bianca.

Bian. 'Saue you (Friend Cassio.)

Cassio. What make you from home?

How is't with you, my most faire Bianca?

Indeed (sweet Loue) I was comming to your house

Bian. And I was going to your Lodging, Cassio. What? keepe a weeke
away? Seuen dayes, and Nights? Eight score eight houres? And Louers
absent howres More tedious then the Diall, eight score times? Oh weary
reck'ning

Cassio. Pardon me, Bianca:

I haue this while with leaden thoughts beene prest, But I shall in a
more continuate time

Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca Take me this worke out

Bianca. Oh Cassio, whence came this?

This is some Token from a newer Friend,

To the felt-Absence: now I feele a Cause: Is't come to this? Well,
well

Cassio. Go too, woman:

Throw your vilde gesses in the Diuels teeth, From whence you haue them.
You are iealious now, That this is from some Mistris, some remembrance;
No, in good troth Bianca

Bian. Why, who's is it?

Cassio. I know not neither:

I found it in my Chamber,

I like the worke well; Ere it be demanded (As like enough it will) I
would haue it coppied: Take it, and doo't, and leaue me for this time

Bian. Leaue you? Wherefore?

Cassio. I do attend heere on the Generall, And thinke it no addition,
nor my wish

To haue him see me woman'd

Bian. Why, I pray you?

Cassio. Not that I loue you not

Bian. But that you do not loue me.

I pray you bring me on the way a little,

And say, if I shall see you soone at night?   Cassio. 'Tis but a little
way that I can bring you, For I attend heere: But Ile see you soone

Bian. 'Tis very good: I must be circumstanc'd.

Exeunt. omnes.



Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Othello, and Iago.

Iago. Will you thinke so?

Oth. Thinke so, Iago?

Iago. What, to kisse in priuate?

Oth. An vnauthoriz'd kisse?

Iago. Or to be naked with her Friend in bed, An houre, or more, not
meaning any harme?   Oth. Naked in bed (Iago) and not meane harme? It
is hypocrisie against the Diuell:

They that meane vertuously, and yet do so, The Diuell their vertue
tempts, and they tempt Heauen

Iago. If they do nothing, 'tis a Veniall slip: But if I giue my wife
a Handkerchiefe

Oth. What then?

Iago. Why then 'tis hers (my Lord) and being hers, She may (I thinke)
bestow't on any man

Oth. She is Protectresse of her honor too: May she giue that?

Iago. Her honor is an Essence that's not seene, They haue it very
oft, that haue it not.

But for the Handkerchiefe

Othe. By heauen, I would most gladly haue forgot it: Thou saidst
(oh, it comes ore my memorie, As doth the Rauen o're the infectious
house: Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe

Iago . I: what of that?

Othe. That's not so good now

Iag. What if I had said, I had seene him do you wrong? Or heard him
say (as Knaues be such abroad, Who hauing by their owne importunate
suit, Or voluntary dotage of some Mistris,

Conuinced or supply'd them, cannot chuse

But they must blab.)

Oth. Hath he said any thing?

Iago. He hath (my Lord) but be you well assur'd, No more then he'le
vn-sweare

Oth. What hath he said?

Iago. Why, that he did: I know not what he did

Othe. What? What?

Iago. Lye

Oth. With her?

Iago. With her? On her: what you will

Othe. Lye with her? lye on her? We say lye on her, when they
be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's fullsome: Handkerchiefe: Confessions:
Handkerchiefe. To confesse, and be hang'd for his labour. First, to be
hang'd, and then to confesse: I tremble at it. Nature would not inuest
her selfe in such shadowing passion, without some Instruction. It is
not words that shakes me thus, (pish) Noses, Eares, and Lippes: is't
possible. Confesse? Handkerchiefe? O diuell.

Falls in a Traunce.

Iago. Worke on,

My Medicine workes. Thus credulous Fooles are caught, And many worthy,
and chast Dames euen thus, (All guiltlesse) meete reproach: what hoa?
My Lord? My Lord, I say: Othello.

Enter Cassio.

How now Cassio?

Cas. What's the matter?

Iago. My Lord is falne into an Epilepsie, This is his second Fit: he
had one yesterday

Cas. Rub him about the Temples

Iago. The Lethargie must haue his quyet course: If not, he foames at
mouth: and by and by Breakes out to sauage madnesse. Looke, he stirres:
Do you withdraw your selfe a little while, He will recouer straight:
when he is gone, I would on great occasion, speake with you. How is it
Generall? Haue you not hurt your head?   Othe. Dost thou mocke me?

Iago. I mocke you not, by Heauen:

Would you would beare your Fortune like a Man

Othe. A Horned man's a Monster, and a Beast

Iago. Ther's many a Beast then in a populous Citty, And many a
ciuill Monster

Othe. Did he confesse it?

Iago. Good Sir, be a man:

Thinke euery bearded fellow that's but yoak'd May draw with you.
There's Millions now aliue, That nightly lye in those vnproper beds,

Which they dare sweare peculiar. Your case is better. Oh, 'tis the
spight of hell, the Fiends Arch-mock, To lip a wanton in a secure
Cowch;

And to suppose her chast. No, let me know, And knowing what I am, I
know what she shallbe

Oth. Oh, thou art wise: 'tis certaine

Iago. Stand you a while apart,

Confine your selfe but in a patient List, Whil'st you were heere,
o're-whelmed with your griefe (A passion most resulting such a man)

Cassio came hither: I shifted him away,

And layd good scuses vpon your Extasie,

Bad him anon returne: and heere speake with me, The which he promis'd.
Do but encaue your selfe, And marke the Fleeres, the Gybes, and notable
Scornes That dwell in euery 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 againe to
cope your wife. I say, but marke his gesture: marry Patience, Or I
shall say y'are all in all in Spleene, And nothing of a man

Othe. Do'st thou heare, Iago,

I will be found most cunning in my Patience: But (do'st thou heare)
most bloody

Iago. That's not amisse,

But yet keepe time in all: will you withdraw? Now will I question
Cassio of Bianca,

A Huswife that by selling her desires

Buyes her selfe Bread, and Cloath. It is a Creature That dotes on
Cassio, (as 'tis the Strumpets plague To be-guile many, and be
be-guil'd by one) He, when he heares of her, cannot restraine From the
excesse of Laughter. Heere he comes. Enter Cassio.

As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad:

And his vnbookish Ielousie must conserue

Poore Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behauiours Quite in the
wrong. How do you Lieutenant?   Cas. The worser, that you giue me the
addition, Whose want euen killes me

Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't: Now, if this Suit
lay in Bianca's dowre,

How quickely should you speed?

Cas. Alas poore Caitiffe

Oth. Looke how he laughes already

Iago. I neuer knew woman loue man so

Cas. Alas poore Rogue, I thinke indeed she loues me

Oth. Now he denies it faintly: and laughes it out

Iago. Do you heare Cassio?

Oth. Now he importunes him

To tell it o're: go too, well said, well said

Iago. She giues it out, that you shall marry her. Do you intend it?

Cas. Ha, ha, ha

Oth. Do ye triumph, Romaine? do you triumph?   Cas. I marry. What? A
customer; prythee beare Some Charitie to my wit, do not thinke it So
vnwholesome. Ha, ha, ha

Oth. So, so, so, so: they laugh, that winnes

Iago. Why the cry goes, that you marry her

Cas. Prythee say true

Iago. I am a very Villaine else

Oth. Haue you scoar'd me? Well

Cas. This is the Monkeys owne giuing out: She is perswaded I will
marry her

Out of her owne loue & flattery, not out of my promise

Oth. Iago becomes me: now he begins the story

Cassio. She was heere euen now: she haunts me in euery place. I was
the other day talking on the Seabanke with certaine Venetians, and
thither comes the Bauble, and falls me thus about my neck

Oth. Crying oh deere Cassio, as it were: his iesture imports it

Cassio. So hangs, and lolls, and weepes vpon me: So shakes, and
pulls me. Ha, ha, ha

Oth. Now he tells how she pluckt him to my Chamber: oh, I see that
nose of yours, but not that dogge, I shall throw it to

Cassio. Well, I must leaue her companie

Iago. Before me: looke where she comes. Enter Bianca.

Cas. 'Tis such another Fitchew: marry a perfum'd one? What do you
meane by this haunting of me?   Bian. Let the diuell, and his dam haunt
you: what did you meane by that same Handkerchiefe, you gaue me euen
now? I was a fine Foole to take it: I must take out the worke? A likely
piece of worke, that you should finde it in your Chamber, and know not
who left it there. This is some Minxes token, & I must take out the
worke? There, giue it your Hobbey-horse, wheresoeuer you had it, Ile
take out no worke on't

Cassio. How now, my sweete Bianca?

How now? How now?

Othe. By Heauen, that should be my Handkerchiefe

Bian. If you'le come to supper to night you may, if you will not
come when you are next prepar'd for.

Exit

Iago. After her: after her

Cas. I must, shee'l rayle in the streets else

Iago. Will you sup there?

Cassio. Yes, I intend so

Iago. Well, I may chance to see you: for I would very faine speake
with you

Cas. Prythee come: will you?

Iago. Go too; say no more

Oth. How shall I murther him, Iago

Iago. Did you perceiue how he laugh'd at his vice?   Oth. Oh, Iago

Iago. And did you see the Handkerchiefe?   Oth. Was that mine?

Iago. Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes the foolish woman
your wife: she gaue it him and, he hath giu'n it his whore

Oth. I would haue him nine yeeres a killing: A fine woman, a faire
woman, a sweete woman?   Iago. Nay, you must forget that

Othello. I, let her rot and perish, and be damn'd to night, for she
shall not liue. No, my heart is turn'd to stone: I strike it, and it
hurts my hand. Oh, the world hath not a sweeter Creature: she might lye
by an Emperours side, and command him Taskes

Iago. Nay, that's not your way

Othe. Hang her, I do but say what she is: so delicate with her
Needle: an admirable Musitian. Oh she will sing the Sauagenesse out of
a Beare: of so high and plenteous wit, and inuention?

Iago. She's the worse for all this

Othe. Oh, a thousand, a thousand times: And then of so gentle a
condition?

Iago. I too gentle

Othe. Nay that's certaine:

But yet the pitty of it, Iago: oh Iago, the pitty of it Iago

Iago. If you are so fond ouer her iniquitie: giue her pattent to
offend, for if it touch not you, it comes neere no body

Oth. I will chop her into Messes: Cuckold me?   Iago. Oh, 'tis foule
in her

Oth. With mine Officer?

Iago. That's fouler

Othe. Get me some poyson, Iago, this night. Ile not expostulate with
her: least her body and beautie vnprouide my mind againe: this night
Iago

Iago. Do it not with poyson, strangle her in her bed, Euen the bed
she hath contaminated

Oth. Good, good:

The Iustice of it pleases: very good

Iago. And for Cassio, let me be his vndertaker: You shall heare more
by midnight.

Enter Lodouico, Desdemona, and Attendants.

Othe. Excellent good: What Trumpet is that same?   Iago. I warrant
something from Venice,

'Tis Lodouico, this, comes from the Duke. See, your wife's with him

Lodo. Saue you worthy Generall

Othe. With all my heart Sir

Lod. The Duke, and the Senators of Venice greet you

Othe. I kisse the Instrument of their pleasures

Des. And what's the newes, good cozen Lodouico   Iago. I am very
glad to see you Signior: Welcome to Cyprus

Lod. I thanke you: how do's Lieutenant Cassio?   Iago. Liues Sir,

Des. Cozen, there's falne betweene him, & my Lord, An vnkind breach:
but you shall make all well

Othe. Are you sure of that?

Des. My Lord?

Othe. This faile you not to do, as you will-   Lod. He did not call:
he's busie in the paper, Is there deuision 'twixt my Lord, and Cassio?
Des. A most vnhappy one: I would do much T' attone, them, for the loue
I beare to Cassio

Oth. Fire, and brimestone

Des. My Lord

Oth. Are you wise?

Des. What is he angrie?

Lod. May be the Letter mou'd him.

For as I thinke, they do command him home, Deputing Cassio in his
Gouernment

Des. Trust me, I am glad on't

Othe. Indeed?

Des. My Lord?

Othe. I am glad to see you mad

Des. Why, sweete Othello?

Othe. Diuell

Des. I haue not deseru'd this

Lod. My Lord, this would not be beleeu'd in Venice, Though I should
sweare I saw't. 'Tis very much, Make her amends: she weepes

Othe. Oh diuell, diuell:

If that the Earth could teeme with womans teares, Each drop she falls,
would proue a Crocodile: Out of my sight

Des. I will not stay to offend you

Lod. Truely obedient Lady:

I do beseech your Lordship call her backe

Othe. Mistris

Des. My Lord

Othe. What would you with her, Sir?

Lod. Who I, my Lord?

Othe. I, you did wish, that I would make her turne: Sir, she can
turne, and turne: and yet go on And turne againe. And she can weepe,
Sir, weepe. And she's obedient: as you say obedient.

Very obedient: proceed you in your teares. Concerning this Sir, (oh
well-painted passion) I am commanded home: get you away:

Ile send for you anon. Sir I obey the Mandate, And will returne to
Venice. Hence, auaunt: Cassio shall haue my Place. And Sir, to night I
do entreat, that we may sup together.

You are welcome Sir to Cyprus.

Goates, and Monkeys.

Enter.

Lod. Is this the Noble Moore, whom our full Senate Call all in all
sufficient? Is this the Nature Whom Passion could not shake? Whose
solid vertue The shot of Accident, nor dart of Chance

Could neither graze, nor pierce?

Iago. He is much chang'd

Lod. Are his wits safe? Is he not light of Braine?   Iago. He's that
he is: I may not breath my censure. What he might be: if what he might,
he is not, I would to heauen he were

Lod. What? Strike his wife?

Iago. 'Faith that was not so well: yet would I knew That stroke would
proue the worst

Lod. Is it his vse?

Or did the Letters, worke vpon his blood, And new create his fault?

Iago. Alas, alas:

It is not honestie in me to speake

What I haue seene, and knowne. You shall obserue him, And his owne
courses will denote him so,

That I may saue my speech: do but go after And marke how he continues

Lod. I am sorry that I am deceiu'd in him.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Othello and aemilia.

Othe. You haue seene nothing then?

Aemil. Nor euer heard: nor euer did suspect

Othe. Yes, you haue seene Cassio, and she together

Aemi. But then I saw no harme: and then I heard, Each syllable that
breath made vp betweene them

Othe. What? Did they neuer whisper?

Aemil. Neuer my Lord

Othe. Nor send you out o'th' way?

Aemil. Neuer

Othe. To fetch her Fan, her Gloues, her Mask, nor nothing? Aemil.
Neuer my Lord

Othe. That's strange.

Aemil. I durst (my Lord) to wager, she is honest: Lay downe my Soule at
stake: If you thinke other, Remoue your thought. It doth abuse your
bosome: If any wretch haue put this in your head, Let Heauen requit it
with the Serpents curse, For if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
There's no man happy. The purest of their Wiues Is foule as Slander

Othe. Bid her come hither: go.

Exit aemilia.

She saies enough: yet she's a simple Baud That cannot say as much. This
is a subtile Whore: A Closset Locke and Key of Villanous Secrets, And
yet she'le kneele, and pray: I haue seene her do't. Enter Desdemona,
and aemilia.

Des. My Lord, what is your will?

Othe. Pray you Chucke come hither

Des. What is your pleasure?

Oth. Let me see your eyes: looke in my face

Des. What horrible Fancie's this?

Othe. Some of your Function Mistris:

Leaue Procreants alone, and shut the doore: Cough, or cry hem; if any
body come:

Your Mystery, your Mystery: May dispatch.

Exit aemi.

Des. Vpon my knee, what doth your speech import? I vnderstand a Fury
in your words

Othe. Why? What art thou?

Des. Your wife my Lord: your true and loyall wife

Othello. Come sweare it: damne thy selfe, least being like one of
Heauen, the diuells themselues should feare to ceaze thee. Therefore be
double damn'd: sweare thou art honest

Des. Heauen doth truely know it

Othe. Heauen truely knowes, that thou art false as hell

Des. To whom my Lord?

With whom? How am I false?

Othe. Ah Desdemon, away, away, away

Des. Alas the heauy day: why do you weepe? Am I the motiue of these
teares my Lord?

If happely you my Father do suspect,

An Instrument of this your calling backe, Lay not your blame on me: if
you haue lost him, I haue lost him too

Othe. Had it pleas'd Heauen,

To try me with Affliction, had they rain'd All kind of Sores, and
Shames on my bare-head: Steep'd me in pouertie to the very lippes.
Giuen to Captiuitie, me, and my vtmost hopes, I should haue found in
some place of my Soule A drop of patience. But alas, to make me

The fixed Figure for the time of Scorne,

To point his slow, and mouing finger at.

Yet could I beare that too, well, very well: But there where I haue
garnerd vp my heart, Where either I must liue, or beare no life, The
Fountaine from the which my currant runnes, Or else dries vp: to be
discarded thence, Or keepe it as a Cesterne, for foule Toades To knot
and gender in. Turne thy complexion there: Patience, thou young and
Rose-lip'd Cherubin, I heere looke grim as hell

Des. I hope my Noble Lord esteemes me honest

Othe. Oh I, as Sommer Flyes are in the Shambles, That quicken euen
with blowing. Oh thou weed: Who art so louely faire, and smell'st so
sweete, That the Sense akes at thee,

Would thou had'st neuer bin borne

Des. Alas, what ignorant sin haue I committed?   Othe. Was this
faire Paper? This most goodly Booke Made to write Whore vpon? What
commited,

Committed? Oh, thou publicke Commoner,

I should make very Forges of my cheekes,

That would to Cynders burne vp Modestie,

Did I but speake thy deedes. What commited? Heauen stoppes the Nose at
it, and the Moone winks: The baudy winde that kisses all it meetes, Is
hush'd within the hollow Myne of Earth And will not hear't. What
commited?

Des. By Heauen you do me wrong

Othe. Are not you a Strumpet?

Des. No, as I am a Christian.

If to preserue this vessell for my Lord,

From any other foule vnlawfull touch

Be not to be a Strumpet, I am none

Othe. What, not a Whore?

Des. No, as I shall be sau'd

Othe. Is't possible?

Des. Oh Heauen forgiue vs

Othe. I cry you mercy then.

I tooke you for that cunning Whore of Venice, That married with
Othello. You Mistris,

Enter aemilia.

That haue the office opposite to Saint Peter, And keepes the gate of
hell. You, you: I you. We haue done our course: there's money for your
paines: I pray you turne the key, and keepe our counsaile. Enter.

Aemil. Alas, what do's this Gentleman conceiue? How do you Madam? how
do you my good Lady?   Des. Faith, halfe a sleepe

Aemi. Good Madam,

What's the matter with my Lord?

Des. With who?

Aemil. Why, with my Lord, Madam?

Des. Who is thy Lord?

Aemil. He that is yours, sweet Lady

Des. I haue none: do not talke to me, aemilia, I cannot weepe: nor
answeres haue I none, But what should go by water. Prythee to night,
Lay on my bed my wedding sheetes, remember, And call thy husband
hither.

Aemil. Heere's a change indeed.

Enter.

Des. 'Tis meete I should be vs'd so: very meete. How haue I bin
behau'd, that he might sticke The small'st opinion on my least misvse?

Enter Iago, and aemilia.

Iago. What is your pleasure Madam?

How is't with you?

Des. I cannot tell: those that do teach yong Babes Do it with gentle
meanes, and easie taskes. He might haue chid me so; for in good faith I
am a Child to chiding

Iago. What is the matter Lady?

Aemil. Alas (Iago) my Lord hath so bewhor'd her, Throwne such dispight,
and heauy termes vpon her That true hearts cannot beare it

Des. Am I that name, Iago?

Iago. What name, (faire Lady?)

Des. Such as she said my Lord did say I was. Aemil. He call'd her
whore: a Begger in his drinke: Could not haue laid such termes vpon his
Callet

Iago. Why did he so?

Des. I do not know: I am sure I am none such

Iago. Do not weepe, do not weepe: alas the day. Aemil. Hath she
forsooke so many Noble Matches? Her Father? And her Country? And her
Friends? To be call'd Whore? Would it not make one weepe?   Des. It is
my wretched Fortune

Iago. Beshrew him for't:

How comes this Tricke vpon him?

Des. Nay, Heauen doth know

Aemi. I will be hang'd, if some eternall Villaine, Some busie and
insinuating Rogue,

Some cogging, cozening Slaue, to get some Office, Haue not deuis'd this
Slander: I will be hang'd else

Iago. Fie, there is no such man: it is impossible

Des. If any such there be, Heauen pardon him. Aemil. A halter pardon
him:

And hell gnaw his bones.

Why should he call her Whore?

Who keepes her companie?

What Place? What Time?

What Forme? What liklyhood?

The Moore's abus'd by some most villanous Knaue, Some base notorious
Knaue, some scuruy Fellow. Oh Heauens, that such companions thou'd'st
vnfold, And put in euery honest hand a whip

To lash the Rascalls naked through the world, Euen from the East to th'
West

Iago. Speake within doore.

Aemil. Oh fie vpon them: some such Squire he was That turn'd your wit,
the seamy-side without, And made you to suspect me with the Moore

Iago. You are a Foole: go too

Des. Alas Iago,

What shall I do to win my Lord againe?

Good Friend, go to him: for by this light of Heauen, I know not how I
lost him. Heere I kneele: If ere my will did trespasse 'gainst his
Loue, Either in discourse of thought, or actuall deed, Or that mine
Eyes, mine Eares, or any Sence Delighted them: or any other Forme.

Or that I do not yet, and euer did,

And euer will, (though he do shake me off To beggerly diuorcement) Loue
him deerely, Comfort forsweare me. Vnkindnesse may do much, And his
vnkindnesse may defeat my life,

But neuer taynt my Loue. I cannot say Whore, It do's abhorre me now I
speake the word, To do the Act, that might the addition earne, Not the
worlds Masse of vanitie could make me

Iago. I pray you be content: 'tis but his humour: The businesse of
the State do's him offence

Des. If 'twere no other

Iago. It is but so, I warrant,

Hearke how these Instruments summon to supper: The Messengers of Venice
staies the meate, Go in, and weepe not: all things shall be well.

Exeunt. Desdemona and aemilia.

Enter Rodorigo.

How now Rodorigo?

Rod. I do not finde

That thou deal'st iustly with me

Iago. What in the contrarie?

Rodori. Euery day thou dafts me with some deuise Iago, and rather, as
it seemes to me now, keep'st from me all conueniencie, then suppliest
me with the least aduantage of hope: I will indeed no longer endure it.
Nor am I yet perswaded to put vp in peace, what already I haue
foolishly suffred

Iago. Will you heare me Rodorigo?

Rodori. I haue heard too much: and your words and Performances are no
kin together

Iago. You charge me most vniustly

Rodo. With naught but truth: I haue wasted my selfe out of my
meanes. The Iewels you haue had from me to deliuer Desdemona, would
halfe haue corrupted a Votarist. You haue told me she hath receiu'd
them, and return'd me expectations and comforts of sodaine respect, and
acquaintance, but I finde none

Iago. Well, go too: very well

Rod. Very well, go too: I cannot go too, (man) nor 'tis not very
well. Nay I think it is scuruy: and begin to finde my selfe fopt in it

Iago. Very well

Rodor. I tell you, 'tis not very well: I will make my selfe knowne
to Desdemona. If she will returne me my Iewels, I will giue ouer my
Suit, and repent my vnlawfull solicitation. If not, assure your selfe,
I will seeke satisfaction of you

Iago. You haue said now

Rodo. I: and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing

Iago. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee: and euen from this
instant do build on thee a better opinion then euer before: giue me thy
hand Rodorigo. Thou hast taken against me a most iust exception: but
yet I protest I haue dealt most directly in thy Affaire

Rod. It hath not appeer'd

Iago. I grant indeed it hath not appeer'd: and your suspition is not
without wit and iudgement. But Rodorigo, if thou hast that in thee
indeed, which I haue greater reason to beleeue now then euer (I meane
purpose, Courage, and Valour) this night shew it. If thou the next
night following enioy not Desdemona, take me from this world with
Treacherie, and deuise Engines for my life

Rod. Well: what is it? Is it within, reason and compasse?   Iago.
Sir, there is especiall Commission come from Venice to depute Cassio in
Othello's place

Rod. Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona returne againe to
Venice

Iago. Oh no: he goes into Mauritania and taketh away with him the
faire Desdemona, vnlesse his abode be lingred heere by some accident.
Wherein none can be so determinate, as the remouing of Cassio

Rod. How do you meane remouing him?

Iago. Why, by making him vncapable of Othello's place: knocking out
his braines

Rod. And that you would haue me to do

Iago. I: if you dare do your selfe a profit, and a right. He sups to
night with a Harlotry: and thither will I go to him. He knowes not yet
of his Honourable Fortune, if you will watch his going thence (which I
will fashion to fall out betweene twelue and one) you may take him at
your pleasure. I will be neere to second your Attempt, and he shall
fall betweene vs. Come, stand not amaz'd at it, but go along with me: I
will shew you such a necessitie in his death, that you shall thinke
your selfe bound to put it on him. It is now high supper time: and the
night growes to wast. About it

Rod. I will heare further reason for this

Iago. And you shalbe satisfi'd.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Othello, Lodouico, Desdemona, aemilia, and Atendants.

Lod. I do beseech you Sir, trouble your selfe no further

Oth. Oh pardon me: 'twill do me good to walke

Lodoui. Madam, good night: I humbly thanke your Ladyship

Des. Your Honour is most welcome

Oth. Will you walke Sir? Oh Desdemona

Des. My Lord

Othello. Get you to bed on th' instant, I will be return'd
forthwith: dismisse your Attendant there: look't be done.

Enter.

Des. I will my Lord

Aem. How goes it now? He lookes gentler then he did

Des. He saies he will returne incontinent, And hath commanded me to
go to bed,

And bid me to dismisse you

Aemi. Dismisse me?

Des. It was his bidding: therefore good aemilia, Giue me my nightly
wearing, and adieu.

We must not now displease him.

Aemil. I, would you had neuer seene him

Des. So would not I: my loue doth so approue him, That euen his
stubbornesse, his checks, his frownes, (Prythee vn-pin me) haue grace
and fauour

Aemi. I haue laid those Sheetes you bad me on the bed

Des. All's one: good Father, how foolish are our minds? If I do die
before, prythee shrow'd me

In one of these same Sheetes.

Aemil. Come, come: you talke

Des. My Mother had a Maid call'd Barbarie, She was in loue: and he
she lou'd prou'd mad, And did forsake her. She had a Song of Willough,
An old thing 'twas: but it express'd her Fortune, And she dy'd singing
it. That Song to night, Will not go from my mind: I haue much to do,
But to go hang my head all at one side

And sing it like poore Barbarie: prythee dispatch

Aemi. Shall I go fetch your Night-gowne?   Des. No, vn-pin me here,

This Lodouico is a proper man.

Aemil. A very handsome man

Des. He speakes well.

Aemil. I know a Lady in Venice would haue walk'd barefoot to Palestine
for a touch of his nether lip

Des. The poore Soule sat singing, by a Sicamour tree. Sing all a
greene Willough:

Her hand on her bosome her head on her knee, Sing Willough, Willough,
Willough.

The fresh Streames ran by her, and murmur'd her moanes Sing Willough,
&c.

Her salt teares fell from her, and softned the stones, Sing Willough,
&c. (Lay by these)

Willough, Willough. (Prythee high thee: he'le come anon) Sing all a
greene Willough must be my Garland. Let no body blame him, his scorne I
approue. (Nay that's not next. Harke, who is't that knocks? Aemil. It's
the wind

Des. I call'd my Loue false Loue: but what said he then? Sing
Willough, &c.

If I court mo women, you'le couch with mo men. So get thee gone, good
night: mine eyes do itch: Doth that boade weeping?

Aemil. 'Tis neyther heere, nor there

Des. I haue heard it said so. O these Men, these men! Do'st thou in
conscience thinke (tell me aemilia) That there be women do abuse their
husbands In such grosse kinde?

Aemil. There be some such, no question

Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world? Aemil. Why,
would not you?

Des. No, by this Heauenly light.

Aemil. Nor I neither, by this Heauenly light: I might doo't as well
i'th' darke

Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for al the world? Aemil. The
world's a huge thing:

It is a great price, for a small vice

Des. Introth, I thinke thou would'st not. Aemil. Introth I thinke I
should, and vndoo't when I had done. Marry, I would not doe such a
thing for a ioynt Ring, nor for measures of Lawne, nor for Gownes,
Petticoats, nor Caps, nor any petty exhibition. But for all the whole
world: why, who would not make her husband a Cuckold, to make him a
Monarch? I should venture Purgatory for't

Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong For the whole world.

Aemil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'th' world; and hauing the world
for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your owne world, and you might quickly
make it right

Des. I do not thinke there is any such woman. Aemil. Yes, a dozen:
and as many to'th' vantage, as would store the world they plaid for.

But I do thinke it is their Husbands faults If Wiues do fall: (Say,
that they slacke their duties, And powre our Treasures into forraigne
laps; Or else breake out in peeuish Iealousies, Throwing restraint vpon
vs: Or say they strike vs, Or scant our former hauing in despight)

Why we haue galles: and though we haue some Grace, Yet haue we some
Reuenge. Let Husbands know, Their wiues haue sense like them: They see,
and smell, And haue their Palats both for sweet, and sowre, As Husbands
haue. What is it that they do, When they change vs for others? Is it
Sport? I thinke it is: and doth Affection breed it? I thinke it doth.
Is't Frailty that thus erres? It is so too. And haue not we Affections?
Desires for Sport? and Frailty, as men haue? Then let them vse vs well:
else let them know, The illes we do, their illes instruct vs so

Des. Good night, good night:

Heauen me such vses send,

Not to picke bad, from bad; but by bad, mend.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Iago, and Rodorigo.

Iago. Heere, stand behinde this Barke,

Straight will he come:

Weare thy good Rapier bare, and put it home: Quicke, quicke, feare
nothing; Ile be at thy Elbow, It makes vs, or it marres vs, thinke on
that, And fixe most firme thy Resolution

Rod. Be neere at hand, I may miscarry in't

Iago. Heere, at thy hand: Be bold, & take thy stand

Rod. I haue no great deuotion to the deed, And yet he hath giuen me
satisfying Reasons: 'Tis but a man gone. Forth my Sword: he dies

Iago. I haue rub'd this yong Quat almost to the sense, And he growes
angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio, Or Cassio him, or each do kill the
other, Euery way makes my gaine. Liue Rodorigo,

He calles me to a restitution large

Of Gold, and Iewels, that I bob'd from him, As Guifts to Desdemona.

It must not be: If Cassio do remaine,

He hath a dayly beauty in his life,

That makes me vgly: and besides, the Moore May vnfold me to him: there
stand I in much perill: No, he must dye. But so, I heard him comming.
Enter Cassio.

Rod. I know his gate, 'tis he: Villaine thou dyest

Cas. That thrust had beene mine enemy indeed, But that my Coate is
better then thou know'st: I will make proofe of thine

Rod. Oh, I am slaine

Cassio. I am maym'd for euer:

Helpe hoa: Murther, murther.

Enter Othello.

Oth. The voyce of Cassio. Iago keepes his word

Rod. O Villaine that I am

Oth. It is euen so

Cas. Oh helpe hoa: Light, a Surgeon

Oth. 'Tis he: O braue Iago, honest, and iust, That hast such Noble
sense of thy Friends wrong, Thou teachest me. Minion, your deere lyes
dead, And your vnblest Fate highes: Strumpet I come: For of my heart,
those Charmes thine Eyes, are blotted. Thy Bed lust-stain'd, shall with
Lusts blood bee spotted.

Exit Othello.

Enter Lodouico and Gratiano.

Cas. What hoa? no Watch? No passage?

Murther, Murther

Gra. 'Tis some mischance, the voyce is very direfull

Cas. Oh helpe

Lodo. Hearke

Rod. Oh wretched Villaine

Lod. Two or three groane. 'Tis heauy night; These may be
counterfeits: Let's think't vnsafe To come into the cry, without more
helpe

Rod. Nobody come: then shall I bleed to death. Enter Iago.

Lod. Hearke

Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with Light, and Weapons

Iago. Who's there?

Who's noyse is this that cries on murther?   Lodo. We do not know

Iago. Do not you heare a cry?

Cas. Heere, heere: for heauen sake helpe me

Iago. What's the matter?

Gra. This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it

Lodo. The same indeede, a very valiant Fellow

Iago. What are you heere, that cry so greeuously?   Cas. Iago? Oh I
am spoyl'd, vndone by Villaines: Giue me some helpe

Iago. O mee, Lieutenant!

What Villaines haue done this?

Cas. I thinke that one of them is heereabout. And cannot make away

Iago. Oh treacherous Villaines:

What are you there? Come in, and giue some helpe

Rod. O helpe me there

Cassio. That's one of them

Iago. Oh murd'rous Slaue! O Villaine!

Rod. O damn'd Iago! O inhumane Dogge!

Iago. Kill men i'th' darke?

Where be these bloody Theeues?

How silent is this Towne? Hoa, murther, murther. What may you be? Are
you of good, or euill?   Lod. As you shall proue vs, praise vs

Iago. Signior Lodouico?

Lod. He Sir

Iago. I cry you mercy: here's Cassio hurt by Villaines

Gra. Cassio?

Iago. How is't Brother?

Cas. My Legge is cut in two

Iago. Marry heauen forbid:

Light Gentlemen, Ile binde it with my shirt. Enter Bianca.

Bian. What is the matter hoa? Who is't that cry'd?   Iago. Who is't
that cry'd?

Bian. Oh my deere Cassio,

My sweet Cassio: Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio

Iago. O notable Strumpet. Cassio, may you suspect Who they should
be, that haue thus mangled you?   Cas. No

Gra. I am sorry to finde you thus;

I haue beene to seeke you

Iago. Lend me a Garter. So: - Oh for a Chaire To beare him easily
hence

Bian. Alas he faints. Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio

Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this Trash To be a party in this
Iniurie.

Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come; Lend me a Light: know we this
face, or no? Alas my Friend, and my deere Countryman

Rodorigo? No: Yes sure: Yes, 'tis Rodorigo

Gra. What, of Venice?

Iago. Euen he Sir: Did you know him?

Gra. Know him? I

Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon: These bloody
accidents must excuse my Manners, That so neglected you

Gra. I am glad to see you

Iago. How do you Cassio? Oh, a Chaire, a Chaire

Gra. Rodorigo?

Iago. He, he, 'tis he:

Oh that's well said, the Chaire.

Some good man beare him carefully from hence, Ile fetch the Generall's
Surgeon. For you Mistris, Saue you your labour. He that lies slaine
heere (Cassio) Was my deere friend. What malice was between you

Cas. None in the world: nor do I know the man?   Iago. What? looke
you pale? Oh beare him o'th' Ayre. Stay you good Gentlemen. Looke you
pale, Mistris? Do you perceiue the gastnesse of her eye? Nay, if you
stare, we shall heare more anon. Behold her well: I pray you looke vpon
her: Do you see Gentlemen? Nay, guiltinesse will speake Though tongues
were out of vse.

Aemil. Alas, what is the matter?

What is the matter, Husband?

Iago. Cassio hath heere bin set on in the darke By Rodorigo, and
Fellowes that are scap'd: He's almost slaine, and Rodorigo quite dead.
Aemil. Alas good Gentleman: alas good Cassio

Iago. This is the fruits of whoring. Prythe aemilia, Go know of
Cassio where he supt to night. What, do you shake at that?

Bian. He supt at my house, but I therefore shake not

Iago. O did he so? I charge you go with me. Aemil. Oh fie vpon thee
Strumpet

Bian. I am no Strumpet, but of life as honest, As you that thus
abuse me.

Aemil. As I? Fie vpon thee

Iago. Kinde Gentlemen:

Let's go see poore Cassio drest.

Come Mistris, you must tel's another Tale. aemilia, run you to the
Cittadell,

And tell my Lord and Lady, what hath happ'd: Will you go on afore? This
is the night

That either makes me, or foredoes me quight.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Othello, and Desdemona in her bed.

Oth. It is the Cause, it is the Cause (my Soule) Let me not name it
to you, you chaste Starres, It is the Cause. Yet Ile not shed her
blood, Nor scarre that whiter skin of hers, then Snow, And smooth as
Monumentall Alablaster:

Yet she must dye, else shee'l betray more men: Put out the Light, and
then put out the Light: If I quench thee, thou flaming Minister,

I can againe thy former light restore,

Should I repent me. But once put out thy Light, Thou cunning'st
Patterne of excelling Nature, I know not where is that Promethaean
heate That can thy Light re-Lume.

When I haue pluck'd thy Rose,

I cannot giue it vitall growth againe,

It needs must wither. Ile smell thee on the Tree. Oh Balmy breath, that
dost almost perswade Iustice to breake her Sword. One more, one more:
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And loue thee after.
One more, and that's the last. So sweet, was ne're so fatall. I must
weepe, But they are cruell Teares: This sorrow's heauenly, It strikes,
where it doth loue. She wakes

Des. Who's there? Othello?

Othel. I Desdemona

Des. Will you come to bed, my Lord?

Oth. Haue you pray'd to night, Desdemon?   Des. I my Lord

Oth. If you bethinke your selfe of any Crime Vnreconcil'd as yet to
Heauen, and Grace, Solicite for it straight

Des. Alacke, my Lord,

What may you meane by that?

Oth. Well, do it, and be breefe, I will walke by: I would not kill
thy vnprepared Spirit,

No, Heauens fore-fend) I would not kill thy Soule

Des. Talke you of killing?

Oth. I, I do

Des. Then Heauen haue mercy on mee

Oth. Amen, with all my heart

Des. If you say, I hope you will not kill me

Oth. Humh

Des. And yet I feare you: for you're fatall then When your eyes
rowle so.

Why I should feare, I know not,

Since guiltinesse I know not: But yet I feele I feare

Oth. Thinke on thy sinnes

Des. They are Loues I beare to you

Oth. I, and for that thou dy'st

Des. That death's vnnaturall, that kils for louing. 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

Oth. Peace, and be still

Des. I will so: What's the matter?

Oth. That Handkerchiefe

Which I so lou'd, and gaue thee, thou gau'st to Cassio

Des. No by my Life, and Soule: send for the man, And aske him

Oth. Sweet Soule, take heed, take heed of Periury, Thou art on thy
death-bed

Des. I, but not yet to dye

Oth. Presently.

Therefore confesse thee freely of thy sinne: For to deny each Article
with Oath,

Cannot remoue, nor choake the strong Conception That I do grone
withall. Thou art to dye

Des. O Heauen haue mercy on me

Oth. I say, Amen

Des. And haue you mercy too. I neuer did Offend you in my life:
neuer lou'd Cassio, But with such generall warrantie of Heauen, As I
might loue. I neuer gaue him Token

Oth. By Heauen I saw my Handkerchiefe in's hand. O periur'd woman,
thou do'st stone my heart, And makes me call, what I intend to do,

A Murther, which I thought a Sacrifice.

I saw the Handkerchiefe

Des. He found it then:

I neuer gaue it him: Send, for him hither: Let him confesse a truth

Oth. He hath confest

Des. What, my Lord?

Oth. That he hath vs'd thee

Des. How? vnlawfully?

Oth. I

Des. He will not say so

Oth. No: his mouth is stopp'd:

Honest Iago hath 'tane order for't

Des. Oh, my feare interprets. What is he dead?   Oth. Had all his
haires bin liues, my great Reuenge Had stomacke for them all

Des. Alas, he is betray'd, and I vndone

Oth. Out Strumpet: weep'st thou for him to my face?   Des. O banish
me, my Lord, but kill me not

Oth. Downe Strumpet

Des. Kill me to morrow, let me liue to night

Oth. Nay, if you striue

Des. But halfe an houre

Oth. Being done, there is no pawse

Des. But while I say one prayer

Oth. It is too late.

Smothers her.

aemilia at the doore.

Aemil. My Lord, my Lord? What hoa?

My Lord, my Lord

Oth. What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead? I that am
cruell, am yet mercifull,

I would not haue thee linger in thy paine? So, so.

Aemil. within. What hoa? my Lord, my Lord?   Oth. Who's there?

Aemil. Oh good my Lord, I would speake a word with you

Oth. Yes: 'Tis aemilia: by and by. Shee's dead. 'Tis like she comes
to speake of Cassio's death: The noise was high. Hah, no more moouing?
Still as the Graue. Shall she come in? Wer't good? I thinke she stirres
againe. No, what's best to do? If she come in, shee'l sure speake to my
wife: My wife, my wife: what wife? I haue no wife. Oh insupportable! Oh
heauy houre!

Me thinkes, it should be now a huge Eclipse Of Sunne, and Moone; and
that th' affrighted Globe Did yawne at Alteration.

Aemil. I do beseech you

That I may speake with you. Oh good my Lord

Oth. I had forgot thee: oh come in aemilia. Soft, by and by, let me
the Curtaines draw. Where art thou? What's the matter with thee now?
Enter aemilia.

Aemil. Oh my good Lord, yonders foule Murthers done

Oth. What? now?

Aemil. But now, my Lord

Oth. It is the very error of the Moone, She comes more neerer Earth
then she was wont, And makes men mad.

Aemil. Cassio, my Lord, hath kill'd

A young Venetian, call'd Rodorigo

Oth. Rodorigo kill'd? and Cassio kill'd? Aemil. No, Cassio is not
kill'd

Oth. Not Cassio kill'd? Then Murther's out of tune, And sweet
Reuenge growes harsh

Des. O falsely, falsely murder'd.

Aemil. Alas! what cry is that?

Oth. That? What?

Aemil. Out, and alas, that was my Ladies voice. Helpe, helpe hoa,
helpe. Oh Ladie speake againe, Sweet Desdemona, oh sweet Mistris,
speake

Des. A guiltlesse death, I dye.

Aemil. Oh who hath done this deed?

Des. No body: I my selfe, farewell:

Commend me to my kinde Lord: oh farewell

Oth. Why, how should she be murdred?

Aemil. Alas: who knowes?

Oth. You heare her say her selfe, it was not I. Aemil. She said so: I
must needs report the truth

Oth. She's like a Liar gone to burning hell, 'Twas I that kill'd
her.

Aemil. Oh the more Angell she, and you the blacker Diuell

Oth. She turn'd to folly: and she was a whore. Aemil. Thou do'st
bely her, and thou art a diuell

Oth. She was false as water.

Aemil. Thou art rash as fire, to say

That she was false. Oh she was heauenly true

Oth. Cassio did top her: Ask thy husband else. O, I were damn'd
beneath all depth in hell: But that I did proceed vpon iust grounds

To this extremity. Thy Husband knew it all. Aemil. My Husband?

Oth. Thy Husband.

Aemil. That she was false to Wedlocke?

Oth. I, with Cassio: had she bin true,

If Heauen would make me such another world, Of one entyre and perfect
Chrysolite,

I'ld not haue sold her for it.

Aemil. My Husband?

Oth. I, 'twas he that told me on her first, An honest man he is, and
hates the slime

That stickes on filthy deeds.

Aemil. My Husband?

Oth. What needs this itterance, Woman?

I say, thy Husband.

Aemil. Oh Mistris,

Villany hath made mockes with loue:

My Husband say she was false?

Oth. He, Woman;

I say thy Husband: Do'st vnderstand the word? My Friend, thy Husband;
honest, honest Iago. Aemil. If he say so, may his pernicious Soule Rot
halfe a graine a day: he lyes to'th' heart, She was too fond of her
most filthy Bargaine

Oth. Hah?

Aemil. Do thy worst:

This deede of thine is no more worthy Heauen, Then thou was't worthy
her

Oth. Peace, you were best.

Aemil. Thou hast not halfe that powre to do me harm, As I haue to be
hurt. Oh Gull, oh dolt,

As ignorant as durt: thou hast done a deed (I care not for thy Sword)
Ile make thee known, Though I lost twenty liues. Helpe, helpe, hoa,
helpe: The Moore hath kill'd my Mistris. Murther, murther. Enter
Montano, Gratiano, and Iago.

Mon. What is the matter? How now Generall? Aemil. Oh, are you come,
Iago: you haue done well, That men must lay their Murthers on your
necke

Gra. What is the matter?

Aemil. Disproue this Villaine, if thou bee'st a man: He sayes, thou
told'st him that his wife was false: I know thou did'st not: thou'rt
not such a Villain. Speake, for my heart is full

Iago. I told him what I thought,

And told no more

Then what he found himselfe was apt, and true. Aemil. But did you euer
tell him,

She was false?

Iago. I did.

Aemil. You told a Lye an odious damned Lye: Vpon my Soule, a Lye; a
wicked Lye.

Shee false with Cassio?

Did you say with Cassio?

Iago. With Cassio, Mistris?

Go too, charme your tongue

Emil. I will not charme my Tongue;

I am bound to speake,

My Mistris heere lyes murthered in her bed

All. Oh Heauens, forefend

Emil. And your reports haue set the Murder on

Othello. Nay stare not Masters,

It is true indeede

Gra. 'Tis a strange Truth

Mont. O monstrous Acte

Emil. Villany, villany, villany:

I thinke vpon't, I thinke: I smel't: O Villany: I thought so then: Ile
kill my selfe for greefe. O villany! villany!

Iago. What, are you mad?

I charge you get you home

Emil. Good Gentlemen, let me haue leaue to speake: 'Tis proper I
obey him; but not now:

Perchance Iago, I will ne're go home

Oth. Oh, oh, oh

Emil. Nay, lay thee downe, and roare:

For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent, That ere did lift vp eye

Oth. Oh she was fowle!

I scarse did know you Vnkle, there lies your Neece, Whose breath
(indeed) these hands haue newly stopp'd: I know this acte shewes
horrible and grim

Gra. Poore Desdemon:

I am glad thy Father's dead,

Thy Match was mortall to him: and pure greefe Shore his old thred in
twaine. Did he liue now, This sight would make him do a desperate
turne: Yea, curse his better Angell from his side, And fall to
Reprobance

Oth. 'Tis pittifull: but yet Iago knowes That she with Cassio, hath
the Act of shame A thousand times committed. Cassio confest it, And she
did gratifie his amorous workes

With that Recognizance and pledge of Loue Which I first gaue her: I saw
it in his hand: It was a Handkerchiefe, an Antique Token

My Father gaue my Mother

Emil. Oh Heauen! oh heauenly Powres!

Iago. Come, hold your peace

Emil. 'Twill out, 'twill out. I peace? No, I will speake as liberall
as the North; Let Heauen, and Men, and Diuels, let them all, All, all,
crie shame against me, yet Ile speake

Iago. Be wise, and get you home

Emil. I will not

Gra. Fye, your Sword vpon a Woman

Emil. Oh thou dull Moore,

That Handkerchiefe thou speak'st of

I found by Fortune, and did giue my Husband: For often, with a solemne
earnestnesse,

(More then indeed belong'd to such a Trifle) He begg'd of me, to
steale't

Iago. Villanous Whore

Emil. She giue it Cassio? No, alas I found it, And I did giu't my
Husband

Iago. Filth, thou lyest

Emil. By Heauen I do not, I do not Gentlemen: Oh murd'rous Coxcombe,
what should such a Foole Do with so good a wife?

Oth. Are there no stones in Heauen,

But what serues for the Thunder?

Precious Villaine

Gra. The woman falles:

Sure he hath kill'd his Wife

Emil. I, I: oh lay me by my Mistris side

Gra. Hee's gone, but his wife's kill'd

Mon. 'Tis a notorious Villain: take you this weapon Which I haue
recouer'd from the Moore:

Come guard the doore without, let him not passe, But kill him rather.
Ile after that same villaine, For 'tis a damned Slaue.

Enter.

Oth. I am not valiant neither:

But euery Punie whipster gets my Sword.

But why should Honor out-liue Honesty?

Let it go all.

Aemil. What did thy Song boad Lady?

Hearke, canst thou heare me? I will play the Swan, And dye in Musicke:
Willough, Willough, Willough. Moore, she was chaste: She lou'd thee,
cruell Moore, So come my Soule to blisse, as I speake true: So speaking
as I thinke, alas, I dye

Oth. I haue another weapon in this Chamber, It was a Sword of
Spaine, the Ice brookes temper: Oh heere it is: Vnkle I must come
forth

Gra. If thou attempt it, it will cost thee deere; Thou hast no
weapon, and perforce must suffer

Oth. Looke in vpon me then, and speake with me, Or naked as I am I
will assault thee

Gra. What is the matter?

Othel. Behold, I haue a weapon:

A better neuer did it selfe sustaine

Vpon a Soldiers Thigh. I haue seene the day, That with this little
Arme, and this good Sword, I haue made my way through more impediments
Then twenty times your stop. But (oh vaine boast) Who can controll his
Fate? 'Tis not so now. Be not affraid, though you do see me weapon'd:
Heere is my iournies end, heere is my butt And verie Sea-marke of my
vtmost Saile.

Do you go backe dismaid? 'Tis a lost feare: Man but a Rush against
Othello's brest,

And he retires. Where should Othello go?

Now: how dost thou looke now? Oh ill-Starr'd wench, Pale as thy Smocke:
when we shall meete at compt, This looke of thine will hurle my Soule
from Heauen, And Fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my Girle? Euen
like thy Chastity. O cursed, cursed Slaue! Whip me ye Diuels,

From the possession of this Heauenly sight: Blow me about in windes,
roast me in Sulphure, Wash me in steepe-downe gulfes of Liquid fire. Oh
Desdemon! dead Desdemon: dead. Oh, oh! Enter Lodouico, Cassio, Montano,
and Iago, with Officers.

Lod. Where is this rash, and most vnfortunate man?   Oth. That's he
that was Othello: heere I am

Lod. Where is that Viper?

Bring the Villaine forth

Oth. I look down towards his feet; but that's a Fable, If that thou
bee'st a Diuell, I cannot kill thee

Lod. Wrench his Sword from him

Iago. I bleed Sir, but not kill'd

Othel. I am not sorry neither, Il'd haue thee liue: For in my sense,
'tis happinesse to die

Lod. Oh thou Othello, that was once so good, Falne in the practise
of a cursed Slaue,

What shall be saide to thee

Oth. Why any thing:

An honourable Murderer, if you will:

For nought I did in hate, but all in Honour

Lod. This wretch hath part confest his Villany: Did you and he
consent in Cassio's death

Oth. I

Cas. Deere Generall, I neuer gaue you cause

Oth. I do beleeue it, and I aske your pardon: Will you, I pray,
demand that demy-Diuell, Why he hath thus ensnar'd my Soule and Body

Iag. Demand me nothing: what you know, you know: From this time
forth, I neuer will speake word

Lod. What? not to pray?

Gra. Torments will ope your lips

Oth. Well, thou dost best

Lod. Sir,

You shall vnderstand what hath befalne,

(Which, as I thinke, you know not) heere is a Letter Found in the
pocket of the slaine Rodorigo, And heere another, the one of them
imports The death of Cassio, to be vndertooke

By Rodorigo

Oth. O Villaine!

Cassio. Most Heathenish, and most grosse

Lod. Now, heere's another discontented paper Found in his pocket
too: and this it seemes Rodorigo meant t'haue sent this damned
villaine: But that (belike) Iago in the interim

Came in, and satisfi'd him

Oth. Oh thou pernitious Caitiffe;

How came you (Cassio) by that Handkerchiefe That was my wiues?

Cassio. I found it in my Chamber:

And he himselfe confest it but euen now,

That there he dropt it for a speciall purpose, Which wrought to his
desire

Othel. O Foole, foole, foole!

Cassio. There is besides, in Rodorigo's Letter, How he vpbraides
Iago, that he made him

Braue me vpon the Watch: whereon it came

That I was cast: and euen but now he spake (After long seeming dead)
Iago hurt him,

Iago set him on

Lod. You must forsake this roome, and go with vs: Your Power, and
your Command is taken off, And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this Slaue,
If there be any cunning Crueltie,

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 knowne
To the Venetian State. Come, bring away

Oth. Soft you; a word or two before you goe: I haue done the State
some seruice, and they know't: No more of that. I pray you in your
Letters, When you shall these vnluckie deeds relate, Speake of me, as I
am. Nothing extenuate, Nor set downe ought in malice.

Then must you speake,

Of one that lou'd not wisely, but too well: Of one, not easily
Iealious, but being wrought, Perplexed in the extreame: Of one, whose
hand (Like the base Iudean) threw a Pearle away Richer then all his
Tribe: Of one, whose subdu'd Eyes, Albeit vn-vsed to the melting
moode,

Drops teares as fast as the Arabian Trees Their Medicinable gumme. Set
you downe this: And say besides, that in Aleppo once,

Where a malignant, and a Turbond-Turke

Beate a Venetian, and traduc'd the State, I tooke by th' throat the
circumcised Dogge, And smoate him, thus

Lod. Oh bloody period

Gra. All that is spoke, is marr'd

Oth. I kist thee, ere I kill'd thee: No way but this, Killing my
selfe, to dye vpon a kisse.

Dyes

Cas. This did I feare, but thought he had no weapon: For he was great
of heart

Lod. Oh Sparton Dogge:

More fell then Anguish, Hunger, or the Sea: Looke on the Tragicke
Loading of this bed: This is thy worke:

The Obiect poysons Sight,

Let it be hid. Gratiano, keepe the house, And seize vpon the Fortunes
of the Moore, For they succeede on you. To you, Lord Gouernor, Remaines
the Censure of this hellish villaine: The Time, the Place, the Torture,
oh inforce it: My selfe will straight aboord, and to the State, This
heauie Act, with heauie heart relate.

Exeunt.



FINIS.

The Names of the Actors.

Othello, the Moore.

Brabantio, Father to Desdemona.

Cassio, an Honourable Lieutenant.

Iago, a Villaine.

Rodorigo, a gull'd Gentleman.

Duke of Venice.

Senators.

Montano, Gouernour of Cyprus.

Gentlemen of Cyprus.

Lodouico, and Gratiano, two Noble Venetians. Saylors.

Clowne.

Desdemona, Wife to Othello.

Aemilia, Wife to Iago.

Bianca, a Curtezan.

THE TRAGEDIE OF Othello, the Moore of Venice.



The Tragedie of Anthonie, and Cleopatra

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Demetrius and Philo.

Philo. Nay, but this dotage of our Generals Ore-flowes the measure:
those his goodly eyes That o're the Files and Musters of the Warre,
Haue glow'd like plated Mars:

Now bend, now turne

The Office and Deuotion of their view

Vpon a Tawny Front. His Captaines heart,

Which in the scuffles of great Fights hath burst The Buckles on his
brest, reneages all temper, And is become the Bellowes and the Fan

To coole a Gypsies Lust.

Flourish. Enter Anthony, Cleopatra, her Ladies, the Traine, with
Eunuchs

fanning her.

Looke where they come:

Take but good note, and you shall see in him (The triple Pillar of the
world) transform'd Into a Strumpets Foole. Behold and see

Cleo. If it be Loue indeed, tell me how much

Ant. There's beggery in the loue that can be reckon'd   Cleo. Ile
set a bourne how farre to be belou'd

Ant. Then must thou needes finde out new Heauen, new Earth.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Newes (my good Lord) from Rome

Ant. Grates me, the summe

Cleo. Nay heare them Anthony.

Fuluia perchance is angry: Or who knowes, If the scarse-bearded Caesar
haue not sent His powrefull Mandate to you. Do this, or this; Take in
that Kingdome, and Infranchise that: Perform't, or else we damne thee

Ant. How, my Loue?

Cleo. Perchance? Nay, and most like:

You must not stay heere longer, your dismission Is come from Caesar,
therefore heare it Anthony, Where's Fuluias Processe? (Caesars I would
say) both? Call in the Messengers: As I am Egypts Queene, Thou blushest
Anthony, and that blood of thine Is Caesars homager: else so thy cheeke
payes shame, When shrill-tongu'd Fuluia scolds. The Messengers

Ant. Let Rome in Tyber melt, and the wide Arch Of the raing'd Empire
fall: Heere is my space, Kingdomes are clay: Our dungie earth alike
Feeds Beast as Man; the Noblenesse of life Is to do thus: when such a
mutuall paire, And such a twaine can doo't, in which I binde One paine
of punishment, the world to weete We stand vp Peerelesse

Cleo. Excellent falshood:

Why did he marry Fuluia, and not loue her? Ile seeme the Foole I am
not. Anthony will be himselfe

Ant. But stirr'd by Cleopatra.

Now for the loue of Loue, and her soft houres, Let's not confound the
time with Conference harsh; There's not a minute of our liues should
stretch Without some pleasure now. What sport to night?   Cleo. Heare
the Ambassadors

Ant. Fye wrangling Queene:

Whom euery thing becomes, to chide, to laugh, To weepe: who euery
passion fully striues To make it selfe (in Thee) faire, and admir'd. No
Messenger but thine, and all alone, to night Wee'l wander through the
streets, and note The qualities of people. Come my Queene,

Last night you did desire it. Speake not to vs.

Exeunt. with the Traine.

Dem. Is Caesar with Anthonius priz'd so slight?   Philo. Sir,
sometimes when he is not Anthony, He comes too short of that great
Property Which still should go with Anthony

Dem. I am full sorry, that hee approues the common Lyar, who thus
speakes of him at Rome; but I will hope of better deeds to morrow. Rest
you happy.

Exeunt.

Enter Enobarbus, Lamprius, a Southsayer, Rannius, Lucillius, Charmian,

Iras, Mardian the Eunuch, and Alexas.

Char. L[ord]. Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas, almost
most absolute Alexas, where's the Soothsayer that you prais'd so to'th'
Queene? Oh that I knewe this Husband, which you say, must change his
Hornes with Garlands

Alex. Soothsayer

Sooth. Your will?

Char. Is this the Man? Is't you sir that know things?   Sooth. In
Natures infinite booke of Secrecie, a little I can read

Alex. Shew him your hand

Enob. Bring in the Banket quickly: Wine enough, Cleopatra's health
to drinke

Char. Good sir, giue me good Fortune

Sooth. I make not, but foresee

Char. Pray then, foresee me one

Sooth. You shall be yet farre fairer then you are

Char. He meanes in flesh

Iras. No, you shall paint when you are old

Char. Wrinkles forbid

Alex. Vex not his prescience, be attentiue

Char. Hush

Sooth. You shall be more belouing, then beloued

Char. I had rather heate my Liuer with drinking

Alex. Nay, heare him

Char. Good now some excellent Fortune: Let mee be married to three
Kings in a forenoone, and Widdow them all: Let me haue a Childe at
fifty, to whom Herode of Iewry may do Homage. Finde me to marrie me
with Octauius Caesar, and companion me with my Mistris

Sooth. You shall out-liue the Lady whom you serue

Char. Oh excellent, I loue long life better then Figs

Sooth. You haue seene and proued a fairer former fortune, then that
which is to approach

Char. Then belike my Children shall haue no names: Prythee how many
Boyes and Wenches must I haue

Sooth. If euery of your wishes had a wombe, & foretell euery wish, a
Million

Char. Out Foole, I forgiue thee for a Witch

Alex. You thinke none but your sheets are priuie to your wishes

Char. Nay come, tell Iras hers

Alex. Wee'l know all our Fortunes

Enob. Mine, and most of our Fortunes to night, shall be drunke to
bed

Iras. There's a Palme presages Chastity, if nothing els

Char. E'ne as the o're-flowing Nylus presageth Famine

Iras. Go you wilde Bedfellow, you cannot Soothsay

Char. Nay, if an oyly Palme bee not a fruitfull Prognostication, I
cannot scratch mine eare. Prythee tel her but a worky day Fortune

Sooth. Your Fortunes are alike

Iras. But how, but how, giue me particulars

Sooth. I haue said

Iras. Am I not an inch of Fortune better then she?   Char. Well, if
you were but an inch of fortune better then I: where would you choose
it

Iras. Not in my Husbands nose

Char. Our worser thoughts Heauens mend

Alexas. Come, his Fortune, his Fortune. Oh let him mary a woman that
cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee, and let her dye too, and giue
him a worse, and let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow
him laughing to his graue, fifty-fold a Cuckold. Good Isis heare me
this Prayer, though thou denie me a matter of more waight: good Isis I
beseech thee

Iras. Amen, deere Goddesse, heare that prayer of the people. For, as
it is a heart-breaking to see a handsome man loose-Wiu'd, so it is a
deadly sorrow, to beholde a foule Knaue vncuckolded: Therefore deere
Isis keep decorum, and Fortune him accordingly

Char. Amen

Alex. Lo now, if it lay in their hands to make mee a Cuckold, they
would make themselues Whores, but they'ld doo't.

Enter Cleopatra.

Enob. Hush, heere comes Anthony

Char. Not he, the Queene

Cleo. Saue you, my Lord

Enob. No Lady

Cleo. Was he not heere?

Char. No Madam

Cleo. He was dispos'd to mirth, but on the sodaine A Romane thought
hath strooke him.

Enobarbus?

Enob. Madam

Cleo. Seeke him, and bring him hither: wher's Alexias?   Alex. Heere
at your seruice.

My Lord approaches.

Enter Anthony, with a Messenger.

Cleo. We will not looke vpon him:

Go with vs.

Exeunt.

Messen. Fuluia thy Wife,

First came into the Field

Ant. Against my Brother Lucius?

Messen. I: but soone that Warre had end, And the times state

Made friends of them, ioynting their force 'gainst Caesar, Whose better
issue in the warre from Italy, Vpon the first encounter draue them

Ant. Well, what worst

Mess. The Nature of bad newes infects the Teller

Ant. When it concernes the Foole or Coward: On. Things that are
past, are done, with me. 'Tis thus, Who tels me true, though in his
Tale lye death, I heare him as he flatter'd

Mes. Labienus (this is stiffe-newes)

Hath with his Parthian Force

Extended Asia: from Euphrates his conquering Banner shooke, from Syria
to Lydia,

And to Ionia, whil'st-

Ant. Anthony thou would'st say

Mes. Oh my Lord

Ant. Speake to me home,

Mince not the generall tongue, name

Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome:

Raile thou in Fuluia's phrase, and taunt my faults With such full
License, as both Truth and Malice Haue power to vtter. Oh then we bring
forth weeds, When our quicke windes lye still, and our illes told vs Is
as our earing: fare thee well awhile

Mes. At your Noble pleasure.

Exit Messenger

Enter another Messenger.

Ant. From Scicion how the newes? Speake there

1.Mes. The man from Scicion,

Is there such an one?

2.Mes. He stayes vpon your will

Ant. Let him appeare:

These strong Egyptian Fetters I must breake, Or loose my selfe in
dotage.

Enter another Messenger with a Letter.

What are you?

3.Mes. Fuluia thy wife is dead

Ant. Where dyed she

Mes. In Scicion, her length of sicknesse, With what else more
serious,

Importeth thee to know, this beares

Antho. Forbeare me

There's a great Spirit gone, thus did I desire it: What our contempts
doth often hurle from vs, We wish it ours againe. The present pleasure,
By reuolution lowring, does become

The opposite of it selfe: she's good being gon, The hand could plucke
her backe, that shou'd her on. I must from this enchanting Queene
breake off, Ten thousand harmes, more then the illes I know My
idlenesse doth hatch.

Enter Enobarbus.

How now Enobarbus

Eno. What's your pleasure, Sir?

Anth. I must with haste from hence

Eno. Why then we kill all our Women. We see how mortall an
vnkindnesse is to them, if they suffer our departure death's the word

Ant. I must be gone

Eno. Vnder a compelling an occasion, let women die. It were pitty to
cast them away for nothing, though betweene them and a great cause,
they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra catching but the least noyse
of this, dies instantly: I haue seene her dye twenty times vppon farre
poorer moment: I do think there is mettle in death, which commits some
louing acte vpon her, she hath such a celerity in dying

Ant. She is cunning past mans thought

Eno. Alacke Sir no, her passions are made of nothing but the finest
part of pure Loue. We cannot cal her winds and waters, sighes and
teares: They are greater stormes and Tempests then Almanackes can
report. This cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a showre of
Raine as well as Ioue

Ant. Would I had neuer seene her

Eno. Oh sir, you had then left vnseene a wonderfull peece of worke,
which not to haue beene blest withall, would haue discredited your
Trauaile

Ant. Fuluia is dead

Eno. Sir

Ant. Fuluia is dead

Eno. Fuluia?

Ant. Dead

Eno. Why sir, giue the Gods a thankefull Sacrifice: when it pleaseth
their Deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shewes to man the
Tailors of the earth: comforting therein, that when olde Robes are
worne out, there are members to make new. If there were no more Women
but Fuluia, then had you indeede a cut, and the case to be lamented:
This greefe is crown'd with Consolation, your old Smocke brings foorth
a new Petticoate, and indeed the teares liue in an Onion, that should
water this sorrow

Ant. The businesse she hath broached in the State, Cannot endure my
absence

Eno. And the businesse you haue broach'd heere cannot be without
you, especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your
abode

Ant. No more light Answeres:

Let our Officers

Haue notice what we purpose. I shall breake The cause of our Expedience
to the Queene, And get her loue to part. For not alone

The death of Fuluia, with more vrgent touches Do strongly speake to vs:
but the Letters too Of many our contriuing Friends in Rome,

Petition vs at home. Sextus Pompeius

Haue giuen the dare to Caesar, and commands The Empire of the Sea. Our
slippery people, Whose Loue is neuer link'd to the deseruer, Till his
deserts are past, begin to throw Pompey the great, and all his
Dignities

Vpon his Sonne, who high in Name and Power, Higher then both in Blood
and Life, stands vp For the maine Souldier. Whose quality going on, The
sides o'th' world may danger. Much is breeding, Which like the Coursers
heire, hath yet but life, And not a Serpents poyson. Say our pleasure,
To such whose places vnder vs, require

Our quicke remoue from hence

Enob. I shall doo't.

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Alexas, and Iras.

Cleo. Where is he?

Char. I did not see him since

Cleo. See where he is,

Whose with him, what he does:

I did not send you. If you finde him sad, Say I am dauncing: if in
Myrth, report

That I am sodaine sicke. Quicke, and returne

Char. Madam, me thinkes if you did loue him deerly, You do not hold
the method, to enforce

The like from him

Cleo. What should I do, I do not?

Ch. In each thing giue him way, crosse him in nothing

Cleo. Thou teachest like a foole: the way to lose him

Char. Tempt him not so too farre. I wish forbeare, In time we hate
that which we often feare. Enter Anthony.

But heere comes Anthony

Cleo. I am sicke, and sullen

An. I am sorry to giue breathing to my purpose

Cleo. Helpe me away deere Charmian, I shall fall, It cannot be thus
long, the sides of Nature Will not sustaine it

Ant. Now my deerest Queene

Cleo. Pray you stand farther from mee

Ant. What's the matter?

Cleo. I know by that same eye ther's some good news. What sayes the
married woman you may goe? Would she had neuer giuen you leaue to come.
Let her not say 'tis I that keepe you heere, I haue no power vpon you:
Hers you are

Ant. The Gods best know

Cleo. Oh neuer was there Queene

So mightily betrayed: yet at the first

I saw the Treasons planted

Ant. Cleopatra

Cleo. Why should I thinke you can be mine, & true, (Though you in
swearing shake the Throaned Gods) Who haue beene false to Fuluia?

Riotous madnesse,

To be entangled with those mouth-made vowes, Which breake themselues in
swearing

Ant. Most sweet Queene

Cleo. Nay pray you seeke no colour for your going, But bid farewell,
and goe:

When you sued staying,

Then was the time for words: No going then, Eternity was in our Lippes,
and Eyes,

Blisse in our browes bent: none our parts so poore, But was a race of
Heauen. They are so still, Or thou the greatest Souldier of the world,
Art turn'd the greatest Lyar

Ant. How now Lady?

Cleo. I would I had thy inches, thou should'st know There were a
heart in Egypt

Ant. Heare me Queene:

The strong necessity of Time, commands

Our Seruices a-while: but my full heart

Remaines in vse with you. Our Italy,

Shines o're with ciuill Swords; Sextus Pompeius Makes his approaches to
the Port of Rome, Equality of two Domesticke powers,

Breed scrupulous faction: The hated growne to strength Are newly growne
to Loue: The condemn'd Pompey, Rich in his Fathers Honor, creepes
apace

Into the hearts of such, as haue not thriued Vpon the present state,
whose Numbers threaten, And quietnesse growne sicke of rest, would
purge By any desperate change: My more particular, And that which most
with you should safe my going, Is Fuluias death

Cleo. Though age from folly could not giue me freedom It does from
childishnesse. Can Fuluia dye?   Ant. She's dead my Queene.

Looke heere, and at thy Soueraigne leysure read The Garboyles she
awak'd: at the last, best, See when, and where shee died

Cleo. O most false Loue!

Where be the Sacred Violles thou should'st fill With sorrowfull water?
Now I see, I see,

In Fuluias death, how mine receiu'd shall be

Ant. Quarrell no more, but bee prepar'd to know The purposes I
beare: which are, or cease, As you shall giue th' aduice. By the fire
That quickens Nylus slime, I go from hence Thy Souldier, Seruant,
making Peace or Warre, As thou affects

Cleo. Cut my Lace, Charmian come,

But let it be, I am quickly ill, and well, So Anthony loues

Ant. My precious Queene forbeare,

And giue true euidence to his Loue, which stands An honourable Triall

Cleo. So Fuluia told me.

I prythee turne aside, and weepe for her, Then bid adiew to me, and say
the teares

Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one Scene Of excellent dissembling, and
let it looke Like perfect Honor

Ant. You'l heat my blood no more?

Cleo. You can do better yet: but this is meetly

Ant. Now by Sword

Cleo. And Target. Still he mends.

But this is not the best. Looke prythee Charmian, How this Herculean
Roman do's become

The carriage of his chafe

Ant. Ile leaue you Lady

Cleo. Courteous Lord, one word:

Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it: Sir, you and I haue lou'd,
but there's not it: That you know well, something it is I would: Oh, my
Obliuion is a very Anthony,

And I am all forgotten

Ant. But that your Royalty

Holds Idlenesse your subiect, I should take you For Idlenesse it selfe

Cleo. 'Tis sweating Labour,

To beare such Idlenesse so neere the heart As Cleopatra this. But Sir,
forgiue me,

Since my becommings kill me, when they do not Eye well to you. Your
Honor calles you hence, Therefore be deafe to my vnpittied Folly, And
all the Gods go with you. Vpon your Sword Sit Lawrell victory, and
smooth successe

Be strew'd before your feete

Ant. Let vs go.

Come: Our separation so abides and flies, That thou reciding heere,
goes yet with mee; And I hence fleeting, heere remaine with thee.
Away.

Exeunt.

Enter Octauius reading a Letter, Lepidus, and their Traine.

Caes You may see Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Caesars
Naturall vice, to hate

One great Competitor. From Alexandria

This is the newes: He fishes, drinkes, and wastes The Lampes of night
in reuell: Is not more manlike Then Cleopatra: nor the Queene of
Ptolomy More Womanly then he. Hardly gaue audience Or vouchsafe to
thinke he had Partners. You Shall finde there a man, who is th'
abstracts of all faults, That all men follow

Lep. I must not thinke

There are, euils enow to darken all his goodnesse: His faults in him,
seeme as the Spots of Heauen, More fierie by nights Blacknesse;
Hereditarie, Rather then purchaste: what he cannot change, Then what he
chooses

Caes You are too indulgent. Let's graunt it is not Amisse to tumble
on the bed of Ptolomy,

To giue a Kingdome for a Mirth, to sit

And keepe the turne of Tipling with a Slaue, To reele the streets at
noone, and stand the Buffet With knaues that smels of sweate: Say this
becoms him (As his composure must be rare indeed,

Whom these things cannot blemish) yet must Anthony No way excuse his
foyles, when we do beare So great waight in his lightnesse. If he
fill'd His vacancie with his Voluptuousnesse,

Full surfets, and the drinesse of his bones, Call on him for't. But to
confound such time, That drummes him from his sport, and speakes as
lowd As his owne State, and ours, 'tis to be chid: As we rate Boyes,
who being mature in knowledge, Pawne their experience to their present
pleasure, And so rebell to iudgement.

Enter a Messenger.

Lep. Heere's more newes

Mes. Thy biddings haue beene done, & euerie houre Most Noble Caesar,
shalt thou haue report How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at Sea, And it
appeares, he is belou'd of those

That only haue feard Caesar: to the Ports The discontents repaire, and
mens reports Giue him much wrong'd

Caes I should haue knowne no lesse,

It hath bin taught vs from the primall state That he which is was
wisht, vntill he were: And the ebb'd man,

Ne're lou'd, till ne're worth loue,

Comes fear'd, by being lack'd. This common bodie, Like to a Vagabond
Flagge vpon the Streame, Goes too, and backe, lacking the varrying tyde
To rot it selfe with motion

Mes. Caesar I bring thee word,

Menacrates and Menas famous Pyrates

Makes the Sea serue them, which they eare and wound With keeles of
euery kinde. Many hot inrodes They make in Italy, the Borders Maritime

Lacke blood to thinke on't, and flush youth reuolt, No Vessell can
peepe forth: but 'tis as soone Taken as seene: for Pompeyes name
strikes more Then could his Warre resisted

Caesar. Anthony,

Leaue thy lasciuious Vassailes. When thou once Was beaten from Medena,
where thou slew'st Hirsius, and Pansa Consuls, at thy heele

Did Famine follow, whom thou fought'st against, (Though daintily
brought vp) with patience more Then Sauages could suffer. Thou did'st
drinke The stale of Horses, and the gilded Puddle Which Beasts would
cough at. Thy pallat the[n] did daine The roughest Berry, on the rudest
Hedge.

Yea, like the Stagge, when Snow the Pasture sheets, The barkes of Trees
thou brows'd. On the Alpes, It is reported thou did'st eate strange
flesh, Which some did dye to looke on: And all this (It wounds thine
Honor that I speake it now) Was borne so like a Soldiour, that thy
cheeke So much as lank'd not

Lep. 'Tis pitty of him

Caes Let his shames quickely

Driue him to Rome, 'tis time we twaine

Did shew our selues i'th' Field, and to that end Assemble me immediate
counsell, Pompey

Thriues in our Idlenesse

Lep. To morrow Caesar,

I shall be furnisht to informe you rightly Both what by Sea and Land I
can be able

To front this present time

Caes Til which encounter, it is my busines too. Farwell

Lep. Farwell my Lord, what you shal know mean time Of stirres
abroad, I shall beseech you Sir To let me be partaker

Caesar. Doubt not sir, I knew it for my Bond.

Exeunt.

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, & Mardian.

Cleo. Charmian

Char. Madam

Cleo. Ha, ha, giue me to drinke Mandragora

Char. Why Madam?

Cleo. That I might sleepe out this great gap of time: My Anthony is
away

Char. You thinke of him too much

Cleo. O 'tis Treason

Char. Madam, I trust not so

Cleo. Thou, Eunuch Mardian?

Mar. What's your Highnesse pleasure?

Cleo. Not now to heare thee sing. I take no pleasure In ought an
Eunuch ha's: Tis well for thee, That being vnseminar'd, thy freer
thoughts May not flye forth of Egypt. Hast thou Affections?   Mar. Yes
gracious Madam

Cleo. Indeed?

Mar. Not in deed Madam, for I can do nothing But what in deede is
honest to be done:

Yet haue I fierce Affections, and thinke

What Venus did with Mars

Cleo. Oh Charmion:

Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? Or does he walke?
Or is he on his Horse?

Oh happy horse to beare the weight of Anthony! Do brauely Horse, for
wot'st thou whom thou moou'st, The demy Atlas of this Earth, the Arme

And Burganet of men. Hee's speaking now,

Or murmuring, where's my Serpent of old Nyle, (For so he cals me:) Now
I feede my selfe With most delicious poyson. Thinke on me

That am with Phoebus amorous pinches blacke, And wrinkled deepe in
time. Broad-fronted Caesar, When thou was't heere aboue the ground, I
was A morsell for a Monarke: and great Pompey Would stand and make his
eyes grow in my brow, There would he anchor his Aspect, and dye With
looking on his life.

Enter Alexas from Caesar.

Alex. Soueraigne of Egypt, haile

Cleo. How much vnlike art thou Marke Anthony? Yet comming from him,
that great Med'cine hath With his Tinct gilded thee.

How goes it with my braue Marke Anthonie?   Alex. Last thing he did
(deere Queene)

He kist the last of many doubled kisses

This Orient Pearle. His speech stickes in my heart

Cleo. Mine eare must plucke it thence

Alex. Good Friend, quoth he:

Say the firme Roman to great Egypt sends

This treasure of an Oyster: at whose foote To mend the petty present, I
will peece

Her opulent Throne, with Kingdomes. All the East, (Say thou) shall call
her Mistris. So he nodded, And soberly did mount an Arme-gaunt Steede,
Who neigh'd so hye, that what I would haue spoke, Was beastly dumbe by
him

Cleo. What was he sad, or merry?

Alex. Like to the time o'th' yeare, between y extremes Of hot and
cold, he was nor sad nor merrie

Cleo. Oh well diuided 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 lookes by his. He was not merrie, Which seem'd to tell
them, his remembrance lay In Egypt with his ioy, but betweene both. Oh
heauenly mingle! Bee'st thou sad, or merrie, The violence of either
thee becomes,

So do's it no mans else. Met'st thou my Posts?   Alex. I Madam, twenty
seuerall Messengers. Why do you send so thicke?

Cleo. Who's borne that day, when I forget to send to Anthonie, shall
dye a Begger. Inke and paper Charmian. Welcome my good Alexas. Did I
Charmian, euer loue Caesar so?

Char. Oh that braue Caesar!

Cleo. Be choak'd with such another Emphasis, Say the braue Anthony

Char. The valiant Caesar

Cleo. By Isis, I will giue thee bloody teeth, If thou with Caesar
Paragon againe:

My man of men

Char. By your most gracious pardon,

I sing but after you

Cleo. My Sallad dayes,

When I was greene in iudgement, cold in blood, To say, as I saide then.
But come, away,

Get me Inke and Paper,

he shall haue euery day a seuerall greeting, or Ile vnpeople Egypt.

Exeunt.

Enter Pompey, Menecrates, and Menas, in warlike manner.

Pom. If the great Gods be iust, they shall assist The deeds of
iustest men

Mene. Know worthy Pompey, that what they do delay, they not deny

Pom. Whiles we are sutors to their Throne, decayes the thing we sue
for

Mene. We ignorant of our selues,

Begge often our owne harmes, which the wise Powres Deny vs for our
good: so finde we profit

By loosing of our Prayers

Pom. I shall do well:

The people loue me, and the Sea is mine;

My powers are Cressent, and my Auguring hope Sayes it will come to'th'
full. Marke Anthony In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make

No warres without doores. Caesar gets money where He looses hearts:
Lepidus flatters both,

Of both is flatter'd: but he neither loues, Nor either cares for him

Mene. Caesar and Lepidus are in the field, A mighty strength they
carry

Pom. Where haue you this? 'Tis false

Mene. From Siluius, Sir

Pom. He dreames: I know they are in Rome together Looking for
Anthony: but all the charmes of Loue, Salt Cleopatra soften thy wand
lip,

Let Witchcraft ioyne with Beauty, Lust with both, Tye vp the Libertine
in a field of Feasts, Keepe his Braine fuming. Epicurean Cookes,
Sharpen with cloylesse sawce his Appetite, That sleepe and feeding may
prorogue his Honour, Euen till a Lethied dulnesse-

Enter Varrius.

How now Varrius?

Var. This is most certaine, that I shall deliuer: Marke Anthony is
euery houre in Rome

Expected. Since he went from Egypt, 'tis

A space for farther Trauaile

Pom. I could haue giuen lesse matter

A better eare. Menas, I did not thinke

This amorous Surfetter would haue donn'd his Helme For such a petty
Warre: His Souldiership

Is twice the other twaine: But let vs reare The higher our Opinion,
that our stirring Can from the lap of Egypts Widdow, plucke The neere
Lust-wearied Anthony

Mene. I cannot hope,

Caesar and Anthony shall well greet together; His Wife that's dead, did
trespasses to Caesar, His Brother wan'd vpon him, although I thinke Not
mou'd by Anthony

Pom. I know not Menas,

How lesser Enmities may giue way to greater, Were't not that we stand
vp against them all: 'Twer pregnant they should square between
themselues, For they haue entertained cause enough

To draw their swords: but how the feare of vs May Ciment their
diuisions, and binde vp

The petty difference, we yet not know:

Bee't as our Gods will haue't; it onely stands Our liues vpon, to vse
our strongest hands Come Menas.

Exeunt.

Enter Enobarbus and Lepidus.

Lep. Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed, And shall become you well,
to intreat your Captaine To soft and gentle speech

Enob. I shall intreat him

To answer like himselfe: if Caesar moue him, Let Anthony looke ouer
Caesars head,

And speake as lowd as Mars. By Iupiter,

Were I the wearer of Anthonio's Beard,

I would not shaue't to day

Lep. 'Tis not a time for priuate stomacking

Eno. Euery time serues for the matter that is then borne in't

Lep. But small to greater matters must giue way

Eno. Not if the small come first

Lep. Your speech is passion: but pray you stirre No Embers vp. Heere
comes the Noble Anthony. Enter Anthony and Ventidius.

Eno. And yonder Caesar.

Enter Caesar, Mecenas, and Agrippa.

Ant. If we compose well heere, to Parthia: Hearke Ventidius

Caesar. I do not know Mecenas, aske Agrippa

Lep. Noble Friends:

That which combin'd vs was most great, and let not A leaner action rend
vs. What's amisse,

May it be gently heard. When we debate

Our triuiall difference loud, we do commit Murther in healing wounds.
Then Noble Partners, The rather for I earnestly beseech,

Touch you the sowrest points with sweetest tearmes, Nor curstnesse grow
to'th' matter

Ant. 'Tis spoken well:

Were we before our Armies, and to fight,

I should do thus.

Flourish.

Caes Welcome to Rome

Ant. Thanke you

Caes Sit

Ant. Sit sir

Caes Nay then

Ant. I learne, you take things ill, which are not so: Or being,
concerne you not

Caes I must be laught at, if or for nothing, or a little, I Should
say my selfe offended, and with you Chiefely i'th' world. More laught
at, that I should Once name you derogately: when to sound your name It
not concern'd me

Ant. My being in Egypt Caesar, what was't to you?   Caes No more
then my reciding heere 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

Ant. How intend you, practis'd?

Caes You may be pleas'd to catch at mine intent, By what did heere
befall me. Your Wife and Brother Made warres vpon me, and their
contestation Was Theame for you, you were the word of warre

Ant. You do mistake your busines, my Brother neuer Did vrge me in
his Act: I did inquire it. And haue my Learning from some true reports
That drew their swords with you, did he not rather Discredit my
authority with yours,

And make the warres alike against my stomacke, Hauing alike your cause.
Of this, my Letters Before did satisfie you. If you'l patch a quarrell,
As matter whole you haue to make it with, It must not be with this

Caes You praise your selfe, by laying defects of iudgement to me:
but you patcht vp your excuses

Anth. Not so, not so:

I know you could not lacke, I am certaine on't, Very necessity of this
thought, that I

Your Partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought, Could not with
gracefull eyes attend those Warres Which fronted mine owne peace. As
for my wife, I would you had her spirit, in such another, The third
oth' world is yours, which with a Snaffle, You may pace easie, but not
such a wife

Enobar. Would we had all such wiues, that the men might go to Warres
with the women

Anth. So much vncurbable, her Garboiles (Caesar) Made out of her
impatience: which not wanted Shrodenesse of policie to: I greeuing
grant, Did you too much disquiet, for that you must, But say I could
not helpe it

Caesar. I wrote to you, when rioting in Alexandria you Did pocket vp
my Letters: and with taunts Did gibe my Misiue out of audience

Ant. Sir, he fell vpon me, ere admitted, then: Three Kings I had
newly feasted, and did want Of what I was i'th' morning: but next day I
told him of my selfe, which was as much As to haue askt him pardon. Let
this Fellow Be nothing of our strife: if we contend

Out of our question wipe him

Caesar. You haue broken the Article of your oath, which you shall
neuer haue tongue to charge me with

Lep. Soft Caesar

Ant. No Lepidus, let him speake,

The Honour is Sacred which he talks on now, Supposing that I lackt it:
but on Caesar, The Article of my oath

Caesar. To lend me Armes, and aide when I requir'd them, the which
you both denied

Anth. Neglected rather:

And then when poysoned houres had bound me vp From mine owne knowledge,
as neerely as I may, Ile play the penitent to you. But mine honesty,
Shall not make poore my greatnesse, nor my power Worke without it.
Truth is, that Fuluia,

To haue me out of Egypt, made Warres heere, For which my selfe, the
ignorant motiue, do So farre aske pardon, as befits mine Honour To
stoope in such a case

Lep. 'Tis Noble spoken

Mece. If it might please you, to enforce no further The griefes
betweene ye: to forget them quite, Were to remember: that the present
neede, Speakes to attone you

Lep. Worthily spoken Mecenas

Enobar. Or if you borrow one anothers Loue for the instant, you may
when you heare no more words of Pompey returne it againe: you shall
haue time to wrangle in, when you haue nothing else to do

Anth. Thou art a Souldier, onely speake no more

Enob. That trueth should be silent, I had almost forgot

Anth. You wrong this presence, therefore speake no more

Enob. Go too then: your Considerate stone

Caesar. I do not much dislike the matter, but The manner of his
speech: for't cannot be, We shall remaine in friendship, our conditions
So diffring in their acts. Yet if I knew, What Hoope should hold vs
staunch from edge to edge Ath' world: I would persue it

Agri. Giue me leaue Caesar

Caesar. Speake Agrippa

Agri. Thou hast a Sister by the Mothers side, admir'd Octauia: Great
Mark Anthony is now a widdower

Caesar. Say not, say Agrippa; if Cleopater heard you, your proofe
were well deserued of rashnesse

Anth. I am not marryed Caesar: let me heere Agrippa further speake

Agri. To hold you in perpetuall amitie, To make you Brothers, and to
knit your hearts With an vn-slipping knot, take Anthony,

Octauia to his wife: whose beauty claimes No worse a husband then the
best of men: whose Vertue, and whose generall graces, speake That which
none else can vtter. By this marriage, All little Ielousies which now
seeme great, And all great feares, which now import their dangers,
Would then be nothing. Truth's would be tales, Where now halfe tales be
truth's: her loue to both, Would each to other, and all loues to both
Draw after her. Pardon what I haue spoke, For 'tis a studied not a
present thought, By duty ruminated

Anth. Will Caesar speake?

Caesar. Not till he heares how Anthony is toucht, With what is spoke
already

Anth. What power is in Agrippa,

If I would say Agrippa, be it so,

To make this good?

Caesar. The power of Caesar,

And his power, vnto Octauia

Anth. May I neuer

(To this good purpose, that so fairely shewes) Dreame of impediment:
let me haue thy hand Further this act of Grace: and from this houre,
The heart of Brothers gouerne in our Loues, And sway our great
Designes

Caesar. There's my hand:

A Sister I bequeath you, whom no Brother

Did euer loue so deerely. Let her liue

To ioyne our kingdomes, and our hearts, and neuer Flie off our Loues
againe

Lepi. Happily, Amen

Ant. I did not think to draw my Sword 'gainst Pompey, For he hath
laid strange courtesies, and great Of late vpon me. I must thanke him
onely, Least my remembrance, suffer ill report:

At heele of that, defie him

Lepi. Time cals vpon's,

Of vs must Pompey presently be sought,

Or else he seekes out vs

Anth. Where lies he?

Caesar. About the Mount-Mesena

Anth. What is his strength by land?

Caesar. Great, and encreasing:

But by Sea he is an absolute Master

Anth. So is the Fame.

Would we had spoke together. Hast we for it, Yet ere we put our selues
in Armes, dispatch we The businesse we haue talkt of

Caesar. With most gladnesse,

And do inuite you to my Sisters view,

Whether straight Ile lead you

Anth. Let vs Lepidus not lacke your companie

Lep. Noble Anthony, not sickenesse should detaine me.

Flourish. Exit omnes. Manet Enobarbus, Agrippa, Mecenas.

Mec. Welcome from aegypt Sir

Eno. Halfe the heart of Caesar, worthy Mecenas. My honourable Friend
Agrippa

Agri. Good Enobarbus

Mece. We haue cause to be glad, that matters are so well disgested:
you staid well by't in Egypt

Enob. I Sir, we did sleepe day out of countenaunce: and made the
night light with drinking

Mece. Eight Wilde-Boares rosted whole at a breakfast: and but twelue
persons there. Is this true?   Eno. This was but as a Flye by an Eagle:
we had much more monstrous matter of Feast, which worthily deserued
noting

Mecenas. She's a most triumphant Lady, if report be square to her

Enob. When she first met Marke Anthony, she purst vp his heart vpon
the Riuer of Sidnis

Agri. There she appear'd indeed: or my reporter deuis'd well for
her

Eno. I will tell you,

The Barge she sat in, like a burnisht Throne Burnt on the water: the
Poope was beaten Gold, Purple the Sailes: and so perfumed that

The Windes were Loue-sicke.

With them the Owers were Siluer,

Which to the tune of Flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they
beate, to follow faster; As amorous of their strokes. For her owne
person, It beggerd all discription, she did lye

In her Pauillion, cloth of Gold, of Tissue, O're-picturing that Venus,
where we see

The fancie out-worke Nature. On each side her, Stood pretty Dimpled
Boyes, like smiling Cupids, With diuers coulour'd Fannes whose winde
did seeme, To gloue the delicate cheekes which they did coole, And what
they vndid did

Agrip. Oh rare for Anthony

Eno. Her Gentlewoman, like the Nereides, So many Mer-maides tended
her i'th' eyes, And made their bends adornings. At the Helme, A seeming
Mer-maide steeres: The Silken Tackle, Swell with the touches of those
Flower-soft hands, That yarely frame the office. From the Barge A
strange inuisible perfume hits the sense Of the adiacent Wharfes. The
Citty cast

Her people out vpon her: and Anthony

Enthron'd i'th' Market-place, did sit alone, Whisling to'th' ayre:
which but for vacancie, Had gone to gaze on Cleopater too,

And made a gap in Nature

Agri. Rare Egiptian

Eno. Vpon her landing, Anthony sent to her, Inuited her to Supper:
she replyed,

It should be better, he became her guest: Which she entreated, our
Courteous Anthony, Whom nere the word of no woman hard speake, Being
barber'd ten times o're, goes to the Feast; And for his ordinary, paies
his heart,

For what his eyes eate onely

Agri. Royall Wench:

She made great Caesar lay his Sword to bed, He ploughed her, and she
cropt

Eno. I saw her once

Hop forty Paces through the publicke streete, And hauing lost her
breath, she spoke, and panted, That she did make defect, perfection,

And breathlesse powre breath forth

Mece. Now Anthony, must leaue her vtterly

Eno. Neuer he will not:

Age cannot wither her, nor custome stale

Her infinite variety: other women cloy

The appetites they feede, but she makes hungry, Where most she
satisfies. For vildest things Become themselues in her, that the holy
Priests Blesse her, when she is Riggish

Mece. If Beauty, Wisedome, Modesty, can settle The heart of Anthony:
Octauia is

A blessed Lottery to him

Agrip. Let vs go. Good Enobarbus, make your selfe my guest, whilst
you abide heere

Eno. Humbly Sir I thanke you.

Exeunt.

Enter Anthony, Caesar, Octauia betweene them.

Anth. The world, and my great office, will Sometimes deuide me from
your bosome

Octa. All which time, before the Gods my knee shall bowe my prayers
to them for you

Anth. Goodnight Sir. My Octauia

Read not my blemishes in the worlds report: I haue not kept my square,
but that to come Shall all be done byth' Rule: good night deere Lady:
Good night Sir

Caesar. Goodnight.

Enter.

Enter Soothsaier.

Anth. Now sirrah: you do wish your selfe in Egypt?   Sooth. Would I
had neuer come from thence, nor you thither

Ant. If you can, your reason?

Sooth. I see it in my motion: haue it not in my tongue, But yet hie
you to Egypt againe

Antho. Say to me, whose Fortunes shall rise higher Caesars or mine?

Sooth. Caesars. Therefore (oh Anthony) stay not by his side Thy
Daemon that thy spirit which keepes thee, is Noble, Couragious, high
vnmatchable,

Where Caesars is not. But neere him, thy Angell Becomes a feare: as
being o're-powr'd, therefore Make space enough betweene you

Anth. Speake this no more

Sooth. To none but thee no more but: when to thee, If thou dost play
with him at any game,

Thou art sure to loose: And of that Naturall lucke, He beats thee
'gainst the oddes. Thy Luster thickens, When he shines by: I say
againe, thy spirit Is all affraid to gouerne thee neere him: But he
alway 'tis Noble

Anth. Get thee gone:

Say to Ventigius I would speake with him. Enter.

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, Vnder his chance, if we draw lots he speeds, His
Cocks do winne the Battaile, still of mine, When it is all to naught:
and his Quailes euer Beate mine (in hoopt) at odd's. I will to Egypte:
And though I make this marriage for my peace, I'th' East my pleasure
lies. Oh come Ventigius.

Enter Ventigius.

You must to Parthia, your Commissions ready: Follow me, and reciue't.

Exeunt.

Enter Lepidus, Mecenas and Agrippa.

Lepidus. Trouble your selues no further: pray you hasten your
Generals after

Agr. Sir, Marke Anthony, will e'ne but kisse Octauia, and weele
follow

Lepi. Till I shall see you in your Souldiers dresse, Which will
become you both: Farewell

Mece. We shall: as I conceiue the iourney, be at Mount before you
Lepidus

Lepi. Your way is shorter, my purposes do draw me much about, you'le
win two dayes vpon me

Both. Sir good successe

Lepi. Farewell.

Exeunt.

Enter Cleopater, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.

Cleo. Giue me some Musicke: Musicke, moody foode of vs that trade in
Loue

Omnes. The Musicke, hoa.

Enter Mardian the Eunuch.

Cleo. Let it alone, let's to Billiards: come Charmian

Char. My arme is sore, best play with Mardian

Cleopa. As well a woman with an Eunuch plaide, as with a woman. Come
you'le play with me Sir?   Mardi. As well as I can Madam

Cleo. And when good will is shewed,

Though't come to short

The Actor may pleade pardon. Ile none now, Giue me mine Angle, weele
to'th' Riuer there My Musicke playing farre off. I will betray Tawny
fine fishes, my bended hooke shall pierce Their slimy iawes: and as I
draw them vp, Ile thinke them euery one an Anthony,

And say, ah ha; y'are caught

Char. 'Twas merry when you wager'd on your Angling, when your diuer
did hang a salt fish on his hooke which he with feruencie drew vp

Cleo. That time? Oh times:

I laught him out of patience: and that night I laught him into
patience, and next morne, Ere the ninth houre, I drunke him to his bed:
Then put my Tires and Mantles on him, whilst I wore his Sword
Phillippan. Oh from Italie, Enter a Messenger.

Ramme thou thy fruitefull tidings in mine eares, That long time haue
bin barren

Mes. Madam, Madam

Cleo. Anthonyo's dead.

If thou say so Villaine, thou kil'st thy Mistris: But well and free, if
thou so yeild him.

There is Gold, and heere

My blewest vaines to kisse: a hand that Kings Haue lipt, and trembled
kissing

Mes. First Madam, he is well

Cleo. Why there's more Gold.

But sirrah marke, we vse

To say, the dead are well: bring it to that, The Gold I giue thee, will
I melt and powr Downe thy ill vttering throate

Mes. Good Madam heare me

Cleo. Well, go too I will:

But there's no goodnesse in thy face if Anthony Be free and healthfull;
so tart a fauour

To trumpet such good tidings. If not well, Thou shouldst come like a
Furie crown'd with Snakes, Not like a formall man

Mes. Wilt please you heare me?

Cleo. I haue a mind to strike thee ere thou speak'st: Yet if thou say
Anthony liues, 'tis well, Or friends with Caesar, or not Captiue to
him, Ile set thee in a shower of Gold, and haile Rich Pearles vpon
thee

Mes. Madam, he's well

Cleo. Well said

Mes. And Friends with Caesar

Cleo. Th'art an honest man

Mes. Caesar, and he, are greater Friends then euer

Cleo. Make thee a Fortune from me

Mes. But yet Madam

Cleo. I do not like but yet, it does alay The good precedence, fie
vpon but yet,

But yet is as a Iaylor to bring foorth

Some monstrous Malefactor. Prythee Friend, Powre out the packe of
matter to mine eare, The good and bad together: he's friends with
Caesar, In state of health thou saist, and thou saist, free

Mes. Free Madam, no: I made no such report, He's bound vnto Octauia

Cleo. For what good turne?

Mes. For the best turne i'th' bed

Cleo. I am pale Charmian

Mes. Madam, he's married to Octauia

Cleo. The most infectious Pestilence vpon thee.

Strikes him downe.

Mes. Good Madam patience

Cleo. What say you?

Strikes him.

Hence horrible Villaine, or Ile spurne thine eyes Like balls before me:
Ile vnhaire thy head,

She hales him vp and downe.

Thou shalt be whipt with Wyer, and stew'd in brine, Smarting in
lingring pickle

Mes. Gratious Madam,

I that do bring the newes, made not the match

Cleo. Say 'tis not so, a Prouince I will giue thee, And make thy
Fortunes proud: the blow thou had'st Shall make thy peace, for mouing
me to rage, And I will boot thee with what guift beside Thy modestie
can begge

Mes. He's married Madam

Cleo. Rogue, thou hast liu'd too long.

Draw a knife.

Mes. Nay then Ile runne:

What meane you Madam, I haue made no fault. Enter.

Char. Good Madam keepe your selfe within your selfe, The man is
innocent

Cleo. Some Innocents scape not the thunderbolt: Melt Egypt into
Nyle: and kindly creatures Turne all to Serpents. Call the slaue
againe, Though I am mad, I will not byte him: Call?   Char. He is
afeard to come

Cleo. I will not hurt him,

These hands do lacke Nobility, that they strike A meaner then my selfe:
since I my selfe

Haue giuen my selfe the cause. Come hither Sir. Enter the Messenger
againe.

Though it be honest, it is neuer good

To bring bad newes: giue to a gratious Message An host of tongues, but
let ill tydings tell Themselues, when they be felt

Mes. I haue done my duty

Cleo. Is he married?

I cannot hate thee worser then I do,

If thou againe say yes

Mes. He's married Madam

Cleo. The Gods confound thee,

Dost thou hold there still?

Mes. Should I lye Madame?

Cleo. Oh, I would thou didst:

So halfe my Egypt were submerg'd and made A Cesterne for scal'd Snakes.
Go get thee hence, Had'st thou Narcissus in thy face to me,

Thou would'st appeere most vgly: He is married?   Mes. I craue your
Highnesse pardon

Cleo. He is married?

Mes. Take no offence, that I would not offend you, To punnish me for
what you make me do

Seemes much vnequall, he's married to Octauia

Cleo. Oh that his fault should make a knaue of thee, That art not
what th'art sure of. Get thee hence, The Marchandize which thou hast
brought from Rome Are all too deere for me:

Lye they vpon thy hand, and be vndone by em

Char. Good your Highnesse patience

Cleo. In praysing Anthony, I haue disprais'd Caesar

Char. Many times Madam

Cleo. I am paid for't now: lead me from hence, I faint, oh Iras,
Charmian: 'tis no matter. Go to the Fellow, good Alexas bid him

Report the feature of Octauia: her yeares, Her inclination, let him not
leaue out

The colour of her haire. Bring me word quickly, Let him for euer go,
let him not Charmian, Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon, The
other wayes a Mars. Bid you Alexas

Bring me word, how tall she is: pitty me Charmian, But do not speake to
me. Lead me to my Chamber.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Pompey, at one doore with Drum and Trumpet: at another

Caesar, Lepidus, Anthony, Enobarbus, Mecenas, Agrippa, Menas with
Souldiers

Marching.

Pom. Your Hostages I haue, so haue you mine: And we shall talke
before we fight

Caesar. Most meete that first we come to words, And therefore haue
we

Our written purposes before vs sent,

Which if thou hast considered, let vs know, If 'twill tye vp thy
discontented Sword,

And carry backe to Cicelie much tall youth, That else must perish
heere

Pom. To you all three,

The Senators alone of this great world,

Chiefe Factors for the Gods. I do not know, Wherefore my Father should
reuengers want, Hauing a Sonne and Friends, since Iulius Caesar, Who at
Phillippi the good Brutus ghosted, There saw you labouring for him.
What was't That mou'd pale Cassius to conspire? And what Made
all-honor'd, honest, Romaine Brutus, With the arm'd rest, Courtiers of
beautious freedome, To drench the Capitoll, but that they would Haue
one man but a man, and that his it

Hath made me rigge my Nauie. At whose burthen, The anger'd Ocean fomes,
with which I meant To scourge th' ingratitude, that despightfull Rome
Cast on my Noble Father

Caesar. Take your time

Ant. Thou can'st not feare vs Pompey with thy sailes. Weele speake
with thee at Sea. At land thou know'st How much we do o're-count thee

Pom. At Land indeed

Thou dost orecount me of my Fathers house: But since the Cuckoo buildes
not for himselfe, Remaine in't as thou maist

Lepi. Be pleas'd to tell vs,

(For this is from the present how you take) The offers we haue sent
you

Caesar. There's the point

Ant. Which do not be entreated too,

But waigh what it is worth imbrac'd

Caesar. And what may follow to try a larger Fortune

Pom. You haue made me offer

Of Cicelie, Sardinia: and I must

Rid all the Sea of Pirats. Then, to send

Measures of Wheate to Rome: this greed vpon, To part with vnhackt
edges, and beare backe Our Targes vndinted

Omnes. That's our offer

Pom. Know then I came before you heere, A man prepar'd

To take this offer. But Marke Anthony,

Put me to some impatience: though I loose The praise of it by telling.
You must know When Caesar and your Brother were at blowes, Your Mother
came to Cicelie, and did finde Her welcome Friendly

Ant. I haue heard it Pompey,

And am well studied for a liberall thanks, Which I do owe you

Pom. Let me haue your hand:

I did not thinke Sir, to haue met you heere,   Ant. The beds i'th' East
are soft, and thanks to you, That cal'd me timelier then my purpose
hither: For I haue gained by't

Caesar. Since I saw you last, ther's a change vpon you

Pom. Well, I know not,

What counts harsh Fortune cast's vpon my face, But in my bosome shall
she neuer come,

To make my heart her vassaile

Lep. Well met heere

Pom. I hope so Lepidus, thus we are agreed: I craue our composion
may be written

And seal'd betweene vs,

Caesar. That's the next to do

Pom. Weele feast each other, ere we part, and lett's Draw lots who
shall begin

Ant. That will I Pompey

Pompey. No Anthony take the lot: but first or last, your fine
Egyptian cookerie shall haue the fame, I haue heard that Iulius Caesar,
grew fat with feasting there

Anth. You haue heard much

Pom. I haue faire meaning Sir

Ant. And faire words to them

Pom. Then so much haue I heard,

And I haue heard Appolodorus carried-

Eno. No more that: he did so

Pom. What I pray you?

Eno. A certaine Queene to Caesar in a Matris

Pom. I know thee now, how far'st thou Souldier?   Eno. Well, and
well am like to do, for I perceiue Foure Feasts are toward

Pom. Let me shake thy hand,

I neuer hated thee: I haue seene thee fight, When I haue enuied thy
behauiour

Enob. Sir, I neuer lou'd you much, but I ha' prais'd ye, When you
haue well deseru'd ten times as much, As I haue said you did

Pom. Inioy thy plainnesse,

It nothing ill becomes thee:

Aboord my Gally, I inuite you all.

Will you leade Lords?

All. Shew's the way, sir

Pom. Come.

Exeunt. Manet Enob. & Menas]

Men. Thy Father Pompey would ne're haue made this Treaty. You, and I
haue knowne sir

Enob. At Sea, I thinke

Men. We haue Sir

Enob. You haue done well by water

Men. And you by Land

Enob. I will praise any man that will praise me, thogh it cannot be
denied what I haue done by Land

Men. Nor what I haue done by water

Enob. Yes some-thing you can deny for your owne safety: you haue bin
a great Theefe by Sea

Men. And you by Land

Enob. There I deny my Land seruice: but giue mee your hand Menas, if
our eyes had authority, heere they might take two Theeues kissing

Men. All mens faces are true, whatsomere their hands are

Enob. But there is neuer a fayre Woman, ha's a true Face

Men. No slander, they steale hearts

Enob. We came hither to fight with you

Men. For my part, I am sorry it is turn'd to a Drinking. Pompey doth
this day laugh away his Fortune

Enob. If he do, sure he cannot weep't backe againe

Men. Y'haue said Sir, we look'd not for Marke Anthony heere, pray
you, is he married to Cleopatra?   Enob. Caesars Sister is call'd
Octauia

Men. True Sir, she was the wife of Caius Marcellus

Enob. But she is now the wife of Marcus Anthonius

Men. Pray'ye sir

Enob. 'Tis true

Men. Then is Caesar and he, for euer knit together

Enob. If I were bound to Diuine of this vnity, I wold not Prophesie
so

Men. I thinke the policy of that purpose, made more in the Marriage,
then the loue of the parties

Enob. I thinke so too. But you shall finde the band that seemes to
tye their friendship together, will bee the very strangler of their
Amity: Octauia is of a holy, cold, and still conuersation

Men. Who would not haue his wife so?

Eno. Not he that himselfe is not so: which is Marke Anthony: he will
to his Egyptian dish againe: then shall the sighes of Octauia blow the
fire vp in Caesar, and (as I said before) that which is the strength of
their Amity, shall proue the immediate Author of their variance.
Anthony will vse his affection where it is. Hee married but his
occasion heere

Men. And thus it may be. Come Sir, will you aboord? I haue a health
for you

Enob. I shall take it sir: we haue vs'd our Throats in Egypt

Men. Come, let's away.

Exeunt.

Musicke playes. Enter two or three Seruants with a Banket.

1 Heere they'l be man: some o' their Plants are ill rooted already,
the least winde i'th' world wil blow them downe

2 Lepidus is high Coulord

1 They haue made him drinke Almes drinke

2 As they pinch one another by the disposition, hee cries out, no
more; reconciles them to his entreatie, and himselfe to'th' drinke

1 But it raises the greater warre betweene him & his discretion

2 Why this it is to haue a name in great mens Fellowship: I had as
liue haue a Reede that will doe me no seruice, as a Partizan I could
not heaue

1 To be call'd into a huge Sphere, and not to be seene to moue in't,
are the holes where eyes should bee, which pittifully disaster the
cheekes.

A Sennet sounded. Enter Caesar, Anthony, Pompey, Lepidus, Agrippa,

Mecenas, Enobarbus, Menes, with other Captaines.

Ant. Thus do they Sir: they take the flow o'th' Nyle By certaine
scales i'th' Pyramid: they know By'th' height, the lownesse, or the
meane: If dearth Or Foizon follow. The higher Nilus swels, The more it
promises: as it ebbes, the Seedsman Vpon the slime and Ooze scatters
his graine, And shortly comes to Haruest

Lep. Y'haue strange Serpents there?

Anth. I Lepidus

Lep. Your Serpent of Egypt, is bred now of your mud by the operation
of your Sun: so is your Crocodile

Ant. They are so

Pom. Sit, and some Wine: A health to Lepidus

Lep. I am not so well as I should be:

But Ile ne're out

Enob. Not till you haue slept: I feare me you'l bee in till then

Lep. Nay certainly, I haue heard the Ptolomies Pyramisis are very
goodly things: without contradiction I haue heard that

Menas. Pompey, a word

Pomp. Say in mine eare, what is't

Men. Forsake thy seate I do beseech thee Captaine, And heare me
speake a word

Pom. Forbeare me till anon.

Whispers in's Eare.

This Wine for Lepidus

Lep. What manner o' thing is your Crocodile?   Ant. It is shap'd sir
like it selfe, and it is as broad as it hath bredth; It is iust so high
as it is, and mooues with it owne organs. It liues by that which
nourisheth it, and the Elements once out of it, it Transmigrates

Lep. What colour is it of?

Ant. Of it owne colour too

Lep. 'Tis a strange Serpent

Ant. 'Tis so, and the teares of it are wet

Caes Will this description satisfie him?   Ant. With the Health that
Pompey giues him, else he is a very Epicure

Pomp. Go hang sir, hang: tell me of that? Away: Do as I bid you.
Where's this Cup I call'd for?   Men. If for the sake of Merit thou
wilt heare mee, Rise from thy stoole

Pom. I thinke th'art mad: the matter?

Men. I haue euer held my cap off to thy Fortunes

Pom. Thou hast seru'd me with much faith: what's else to say? Be
iolly Lords

Anth. These Quicke-sands Lepidus,

Keepe off, them for you sinke

Men. Wilt thou be Lord of all the world?   Pom. What saist thou?

Men. Wilt thou be Lord of the whole world? That's twice

Pom. How should that be?

Men. But entertaine it, and though thou thinke me poore, I am the man
will giue thee all the world

Pom. Hast thou drunke well

Men. No Pompey, I haue kept me from the cup, Thou art if thou dar'st
be, the earthly Ioue: What ere the Ocean pales, or skie inclippes, Is
thine, if thou wilt ha't

Pom. Shew me which way?

Men. These three World-sharers, these Competitors Are in thy vessell.
Let me cut the Cable, And when we are put off, fall to their throates:
All there is thine

Pom. Ah, this thou shouldst haue done, And not haue spoke on't. In
me 'tis villanie, In thee, 't had bin good seruice: thou must know,
'Tis not my profit that does lead mine Honour: Mine Honour it, Repent
that ere thy tongue, Hath so betraide thine acte. Being done vnknowne,
I should haue found it afterwards well done, But must condemne it now:
desist, and drinke

Men. For this, Ile neuer follow

Thy paul'd Fortunes more,

Who seekes and will not take, when once 'tis offer'd, Shall neuer finde
it more

Pom. This health to Lepidus

Ant. Beare him ashore,

Ile pledge it for him Pompey

Eno. Heere's to thee Menas

Men. Enobarbus, welcome

Pom. Fill till the cup be hid

Eno. There's a strong Fellow Menas

Men. Why?

Eno. A beares the third part of the world man: seest not?

Men. The third part, then he is drunk: would it were all, that it
might go on wheeles

Eno. Drinke thou: encrease the Reeles

Men. Come

Pom. This is not yet an Alexandrian Feast

Ant. It ripen's, towards it: strike the Vessells hoa. Heere's to
Caesar

Caesar. I could well forbear't, it's monstrous labour when I wash my
braine, and it grow fouler

Ant. Be a Child o'th' time

Caesar. Possesse it, Ile make answer: but I had rather fast from
all, foure dayes, then drinke so much in one

Enob. Ha my braue Emperour, shall we daunce now the Egyptian
Backenals, and celebrate our drinke?   Pom. Let's ha't good Souldier

Ant. Come, let's all take hands,

Till that the conquering Wine hath steep't our sense, In soft and
delicate Lethe

Eno. All take hands:

Make battery to our eares with the loud Musicke, The while, Ile place
you, then the Boy shall sing. The holding euery man shall beate as
loud, As his strong sides can volly.

Musicke Playes. Enobarbus places them hand in hand.

The Song.

Come thou Monarch of the Vine,

Plumpie Bacchus, with pinke eyne:

In thy Fattes our Cares be drown'd,

With thy Grapes our haires be Crown'd.

Cup vs till the world go round,

Cup vs till the world go round

Caesar. What would you more?

Pompey goodnight. Good Brother

Let me request you of our grauer businesse Frownes at this leuitie.
Gentle Lords let's part, You see we haue burnt our cheekes. Strong
Enobarbe Is weaker then the Wine, and mine owne tongue Spleet's what it
speakes: the wilde disguise hath almost Antickt vs all. What needs more
words? goodnight. Good Anthony your hand

Pom. Ile try you on the shore

Anth. And shall Sir, giues your hand

Pom. Oh Anthony, you haue my Father house. But what, we are
Friends?

Come downe into the Boate

Eno. Take heed you fall not Menas: Ile not on shore, No to my Cabin:
these Drummes,

These Trumpets, Flutes: what

Let Neptune heare, we bid aloud farewell

To these great Fellowes. Sound and be hang'd, sound out.

Sound a Flourish with Drummes.

Enor. Hoo saies a there's my Cap

Men. Hoa, Noble Captaine, come.

Exeunt.

Enter Ventidius as it were in triumph, the dead body of Pacorus borne

before him.

Ven. Now darting Parthya art thou stroke, and now Pleas'd Fortune
does of Marcus Crassus death Make me reuenger. Beare the Kings Sonnes
body, Before our Army, thy Pacorus Orades,

Paies this for Marcus Crassus

Romaine. Noble Ventidius,

Whil'st yet with Parthian blood thy Sword is warme, The Fugitiue
Parthians follow. Spurre through Media, Mesapotamia, and the shelters,
whether

The routed flie. So thy grand Captaine Anthony Shall set thee on
triumphant Chariots, and Put Garlands on thy head

Ven. Oh Sillius, Sillius,

I haue done enough. A lower place note well May make too great an act.
For learne this Sillius, Better to leaue vndone, then by our deed

Acquire too high a Fame, when him we serues away. Caesar and Anthony,
haue euer wonne

More in their officer, then person. Sossius One of my place in Syria,
his Lieutenant, For quicke accumulation of renowne,

Which he atchiu'd by'th' minute, lost his fauour. Who does i'th' Warres
more then his Captaine can, Becomes his Captaines Captaine: and
Ambition (The Souldiers vertue) rather makes choise of losse Then
gaine, which darkens him.

I could do more to do Anthonius good,

But 'twould offend him. And in his offence, Should my performance
perish

Rom. Thou hast Ventidius that, without the which a Souldier and his
Sword graunts scarce distinction: thou wilt write to Anthony

Ven. Ile humbly signifie what in his name, That magicall word of
Warre we haue effected, How with his Banners, and his well paid ranks,
The nere-yet beaten Horse of Parthia,

We haue iaded out o'th' Field

Rom. Where is he now?

Ven. He purposeth to Athens, whither with what hast The waight we
must conuay with's, will permit: We shall appeare before him. On there,
passe along.

Exeunt.

Enter Agrippa at one doore, Enobarbus at another.

Agri. What are the Brothers parted?

Eno. They haue dispatcht with Pompey, he is gone, The other three are
Sealing. Octauia weepes To part from Rome: Caesar is sad, and Lepidus
Since Pompey's feast, as Menas saies, is troubled With the
Greene-Sicknesse

Agri. 'Tis a Noble Lepidus

Eno. A very fine one: oh, how he loues Caesar

Agri. Nay but how deerely he adores Mark Anthony

Eno. Caesar? why he's the Iupiter of men

Ant. What's Anthony, the God of Iupiter?   Eno. Spake you of Caesar?
How, the non-pareill?   Agri. Oh Anthony, oh thou Arabian Bird!   Eno.
Would you praise Caesar, say Caesar go no further

Agr. Indeed he plied them both with excellent praises

Eno. But he loues Caesar best, yet he loues Anthony: Hoo, Hearts,
Tongues, Figure,

Scribes, Bards, Poets, cannot

Thinke speake, cast, write, sing, number: hoo, His loue to Anthony. But
as for Caesar,

Kneele downe, kneele downe, and wonder

Agri. Both he loues

Eno. They are his Shards, and he their Beetle, so: This is to horse:
Adieu, Noble Agrippa

Agri. Good Fortune worthy Souldier, and farewell. Enter Caesar,
Anthony, Lepidus, and Octauia.

Antho. No further Sir

Caesar. You take from me a great part of my selfe: Vse me well in't.
Sister, proue such a wife As my thoughts make thee, and as my farthest
Band Shall passe on thy approofe: most Noble Anthony, Let not the peece
of Vertue which is set

Betwixt vs, as the Cyment of our loue

To keepe it builded, be the Ramme to batter The Fortresse of it: for
better might we

Haue lou'd without this meane, if on both parts This be not cherisht

Ant. Make me not offended, in your distrust

Caesar. I haue said

Ant. You shall not finde,

Though you be therein curious, the lest cause For what you seeme to
feare, so the Gods keepe you, And make the hearts of Romaines serue
your ends: We will heere part

Caesar. Farewell my deerest Sister, fare thee well, The Elements be
kind to thee, and make

Thy spirits all of comfort: fare thee well

Octa. My Noble Brother

Anth. The Aprill's in her eyes, it is Loues spring, And these the
showers to bring it on: be cheerfull

Octa. Sir, looke well to my Husbands house: and-   Caesar. What
Octauia?

Octa. Ile tell you in your eare

Ant. Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can Her heart informe
her tongue.

The Swannes downe feather

That stands vpon the Swell at the full of Tide: And neither way
inclines

Eno. Will Caesar weepe?

Agr. He ha's a cloud in's face

Eno. He were the worse for that were he a Horse, so is he being a
man

Agri. Why Enobarbus:

When Anthony found Iulius Caesar dead,

He cried almost to roaring: And he wept,

When at Phillippi he found Brutus slaine

Eno. That year indeed, he was trobled with a rheume, What willingly
he did confound, he wail'd, Beleeu't till I weepe too

Caesar. No sweet Octauia,

You shall heare from me still: the time shall not Out-go my thinking on
you

Ant. Come Sir, come,

Ile wrastle with you in my strength of loue, Looke heere I haue you,
thus I let you go, And giue you to the Gods

Caesar. Adieu, be happy

Lep. Let all the number of the Starres giue light To thy faire way

Caesar. Farewell, farewell.

Kisses Octauia.

Ant. Farewell.

Trumpets sound. Exeunt.

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.

Cleo. Where is the Fellow?

Alex. Halfe afeard to come

Cleo. Go too, go too: Come hither Sir. Enter the Messenger as
before.

Alex. Good Maiestie: Herod of Iury dare not looke vpon you, but when
you are well pleas'd

Cleo. That Herods head, Ile haue: but how? When Anthony is gone,
through whom I might commaund it: Come thou neere

Mes. Most gratious Maiestie

Cleo. Did'st thou behold Octauia?

Mes. I dread Queene

Cleo. Where?

Mes. Madam in Rome, I lookt her in the face: and saw her led betweene
her Brother, and Marke Anthony

Cleo. Is she as tall as me?

Mes. She is not Madam

Cleo. Didst heare her speake?

Is she shrill tongu'd or low?

Mes. Madam, I heard her speake, she is low voic'd

Cleo. That's not so good: he cannot like her long

Char. Like her? Oh Isis: 'tis impossible

Cleo. I thinke so Charmian: dull of tongue, & dwarfish What Maiestie
is in her gate, remember

If ere thou look'st on Maiestie

Mes. She creepes: her motion, & her station are as one. She shewes a
body, rather then a life,

A Statue, then a Breather

Cleo. Is this certaine?

Mes. Or I haue no obseruance

Cha. Three in Egypt cannot make better note

Cleo. He's very knowing, I do perceiu't, There's nothing in her
yet.

The Fellow ha's good iudgement

Char. Excellent

Cleo. Guesse at her yeares, I prythee

Mess. Madam, she was a widdow

Cleo. Widdow? Charmian, hearke

Mes. And I do thinke she's thirtie

Cle. Bear'st thou her face in mind? is't long or round?   Mess.
Round, euen to faultinesse

Cleo. For the most part too, they are foolish that are so. Her haire
what colour?

Mess. Browne Madam: and her forehead

As low as she would wish it

Cleo. There's Gold for thee,

Thou must not take my former sharpenesse ill, I will employ thee backe
againe: I finde thee Most fit for businesse. Go, make thee ready, Our
Letters are prepar'd

Char. A proper man

Cleo. Indeed he is so: I repent me much That so I harried him. Why
me think's by him, This Creature's no such thing

Char. Nothing Madam

Cleo. The man hath seene some Maiesty, and should know

Char. Hath he seene Maiestie? Isis else defend: and seruing you so
long

Cleopa. I haue one thing more to aske him yet good Charmian: but
'tis no matter, thou shalt bring him to me where I will write; all may
be well enough

Char. I warrant you Madam.

Exeunt.

Enter Anthony and Octauia.

Ant. Nay, nay Octauia, not onely that,

That were excusable, that and thousands more Of semblable import, but
he hath wag'd

New Warres 'gainst Pompey. Made his will, and read it, To publicke
eare, spoke scantly of me,

When perforce he could not

But pay me tearmes of Honour: cold and sickly He vented then most
narrow measure: lent me, When the best hint was giuen him: he not
took't, Or did it from his teeth

Octaui. Oh my good Lord,

Beleeue not all, or if you must beleeue,

Stomacke not all. A more vnhappie Lady,

If this deuision chance, ne're stood betweene Praying for both parts:

The good Gods wil mocke me presently,

When I shall pray: Oh blesse my Lord, and Husband, Vndo that prayer, by
crying out as loud,

Oh blesse my Brother. Husband winne, winne Brother, Prayes, and
distroyes the prayer, no midway 'Twixt these extreames at all

Ant. Gentle Octauia,

Let your best loue draw to that point which seeks Best to preserue it:
if I loose mine Honour, I loose my selfe: better I were not yours Then
your so branchlesse. But as you requested, Your selfe shall go
between's, the meane time Lady, Ile raise the preparation of a Warre

Shall staine your Brother, make your soonest hast, So your desires are
yours

Oct. Thanks to my Lord,

The Ioue of power make me most weake, most weake, Your reconciler:
Warres 'twixt you twaine would be, As if the world should cleaue, and
that slaine men Should soalder vp the Rift

Anth. When it appeeres to you where this begins, Turne your
displeasure that way, for our faults Can neuer be so equall, that your
loue

Can equally moue with them. Prouide your going, Choose your owne
company, and command what cost Your heart he's mind too.

Exeunt.

Enter Enobarbus, and Eros.

Eno. How now Friend Eros?

Eros. Ther's strange Newes come Sir

Eno. What man?

Ero. Caesar & Lepidus haue made warres vpon Pompey

Eno. This is old, what is the successe?   Eros. Caesar hauing made
vse of him in the warres 'gainst Pompey: presently denied him riuality,
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. Vpon his
owne appeale seizes him, so the poore third is vp, till death enlarge
his Confine

Eno. Then would thou hadst a paire of chaps no more, and throw
betweene them all the food thou hast, they'le grinde the other. Where's
Anthony?

Eros. He's walking in the garden thus, and spurnes The rush that lies
before him. Cries Foole Lepidus, And threats the throate of that his
Officer, That murdred Pompey

Eno. Our great Nauies rig'd

Eros. For Italy and Caesar, more Domitius, My Lord desires you
presently: my Newes

I might haue told heareafter

Eno. 'Twillbe naught, but let it be: bring me to Anthony

Eros. Come Sir,

Exeunt.

Enter Agrippa, Mecenas, and Caesar.

Caes Contemning Rome he ha's done all this, & more In Alexandria:
heere's the manner of't:

I'th' Market-place on a Tribunall siluer'd, Cleopatra and himselfe in
Chaires of Gold Were publikely enthron'd: at the feet, sat Caesarion
whom they call my Fathers Sonne, And all the vnlawfull issue, that
their Lust Since then hath made betweene them. Vnto her, He gaue the
stablishment of Egypt, made her Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia, absolute
Queene

Mece. This in the publike eye?

Caesar. I'th' common shew place, where they exercise, His Sonnes
hither proclaimed the King of Kings, Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia

He gaue to Alexander. To Ptolomy he assign'd, Syria, Silicia, and
Phoenetia: she

In th' abiliments of the Goddesse Isis

That day appeer'd, and oft before gaue audience, As 'tis reported so

Mece. Let Rome be thus inform'd

Agri. Who queazie with his insolence already, Will their good
thoughts call from him

Caesar. The people knowes it,

And haue now receiu'd his accusations

Agri. Who does he accuse?

Caesar. Caesar, and that hauing in Cicilie Sextus Pompeius spoil'd,
we had not rated him His part o'th' Isle. Then does he say, he lent me
Some shipping vnrestor'd. Lastly, he frets That Lepidus of the
Triumpherate, should be depos'd, And being that, we detaine all his
Reuenue

Agri. Sir, this should be answer'd

Caesar. 'Tis done already, and the Messenger gone: I haue told him
Lepidus was growne too cruell, That he his high Authority abus'd,

And did deserue his change: for what I haue conquer'd, I grant him
part: but then in his Armenia, And other of his conquer'd Kingdoms, I
demand the like   Mec. Hee'l neuer yeeld to that

Caes Nor must not then be yeelded to in this. Enter Octauia with her
Traine.

Octa. Haile Caesar, and my L[ord]. haile most deere Caesar

Caesar. That euer I should call thee Cast-away

Octa. You haue not call'd me so, nor haue you cause

Caes Why haue you stoln vpon vs thus? you come not Like Caesars
Sister, The wife of Anthony

Should haue an Army for an Vsher, and

The neighes of Horse to tell of her approach, Long ere she did appeare.
The trees by'th' way Should haue borne men, and expectation fainted,
Longing for what it had not. Nay, the dust Should haue ascended to the
Roofe of Heauen, Rais'd by your populous Troopes: But you are come A
Market-maid to Rome, and haue preuented The ostentation of our loue;
which left vnshewne, Is often left vnlou'd: we should haue met you By
Sea, and Land, supplying euery Stage

With an augmented greeting

Octa. Good my Lord,

To come thus was I not constrain'd, but did it On my free-will. My Lord
Marke Anthony,

Hearing that you prepar'd for Warre, acquainted My greeued eare
withall: whereon I begg'd His pardon for returne

Caes Which soone he granted,

Being an abstract 'tweene his Lust, and him

Octa. Do not say so, my Lord

Caes I haue eyes vpon him,

And his affaires come to me on the wind: wher is he now?   Octa. My
Lord, in Athens

Caesar. No my most wronged Sister, Cleopatra Hath nodded him to her.
He hath giuen his Empire Vp to a Whore, who now are leuying

The Kings o'th' earth for Warre. He hath assembled, Bochus the King of
Lybia, Archilaus

Of Cappadocia, Philadelphos King

Of Paphlagonia: the Thracian King Adullas, King Manchus of Arabia, King
of Pont,

Herod of Iewry, Mithridates King

Of Comageat, Polemen and Amintas,

The Kings of Mede, and Licoania,

With a more larger List of Scepters

Octa. Aye me most wretched,

That haue my heart parted betwixt two Friends, That does afflict each
other

Caes Welcom hither: your Letters did with-holde our breaking forth

Till we perceiu'd both how you were wrong led, And we in negligent
danger: cheere your heart, Be you not troubled with the time, which
driues O're your content, these strong necessities, But let determin'd
things to destinie

Hold vnbewayl'd their way. Welcome to Rome, Nothing more deere to me:
You are abus'd

Beyond the marke of thought: and the high Gods To do you Iustice, makes
his Ministers

Of vs, and those that loue you. Best of comfort, And euer welcom to vs

Agrip. Welcome Lady

Mec. Welcome deere Madam,

Each heart in Rome does loue and pitty you, Onely th' adulterous
Anthony, most large

In his abhominations, turnes you off,

And giues his potent Regiment to a Trull

That noyses it against vs

Octa. Is it so sir?

Caes Most certaine: Sister welcome: pray you Be euer knowne to
patience. My deer'st Sister.

Exeunt.

Enter Cleopatra, and Enobarbus.

Cleo. I will be euen with thee, doubt it not

Eno. But why, why, why?

Cleo. Thou hast forespoke my being in these warres, And say'st it is
not fit

Eno. Well: is it, is it

Cleo. If not, denounc'd against vs, why should not we be there in
person

Enob. Well, I could reply: if wee should serue with Horse and Mares
together, the Horse were meerly lost: the Mares would beare a Soldiour
and his Horse

Cleo. What is't you say?

Enob. Your presence needs must puzle Anthony, Take from his heart,
take from his Braine, from's time, What should not then be spar'd. He
is already Traduc'd for Leuity, and 'tis said in Rome, That Photinus an
Eunuch, and your Maides

Mannage this warre

Cleo. Sinke Rome, and their tongues rot That speake against vs. A
Charge we beare i'th' Warre, And as the president of my Kingdome will

Appeare there for a man. Speake not against it, I will not stay
behinde.

Enter Anthony and Camidias.

Eno. Nay I haue done, here comes the Emperor

Ant. Is it not strange Camidius,

That from Tarientum, and Brandusium,

He could so quickly cut the Ionian Sea,

And take in Troine. You haue heard on't (Sweet?)   Cleo. Celerity is
neuer more admir'd,

Then by the negligent

Ant. A good rebuke,

Which might haue well becom'd the best of men To taunt at slacknesse.
Camidius, wee

Will fight with him by Sea

Cleo. By Sea, what else?

Cam. Why will my Lord, do so?

Ant. For that he dares vs too't

Enob. So hath my Lord, dar'd him to single fight

Cam. I, and to wage this Battell at Pharsalia, Where Caesar fought
with Pompey. But these offers Which serue not for his vantage, he
shakes off, And so should you

Enob. Your Shippes are not well mann'd, Your Marriners are Militers,
Reapers, people Ingrost by swift Impresse. In Caesars Fleete, Are
those, that often haue 'gainst Pompey fought, Their shippes are yare,
yours heauy: no disgrace Shall fall you for refusing him at Sea,

Being prepar'd for Land

Ant. By Sea, by Sea

Eno. Most worthy Sir, you therein throw away The absolute
Soldiership you haue by Land, Distract your Armie, which doth most
consist Of Warre-markt-footmen, leaue vnexecuted

Your owne renowned knowledge, quite forgoe The way which promises
assurance, and

Giue vp your selfe meerly to chance and hazard, From firme Securitie

Ant. Ile fight at Sea

Cleo. I haue sixty Sailes, Caesar none better

Ant. Our ouer-plus of shipping will we burne, And with the rest full
mann'd, from th' head of Action Beate th' approaching Caesar. But if we
faile, We then can doo't at Land.

Enter a Messenger.

Thy Businesse?

Mes. The Newes is true, my Lord, he is descried, Caesar ha's taken
Toryne

Ant. Can he be there in person? 'Tis impossible Strange, that his
power should be. Camidius, Our nineteene Legions thou shalt hold by
Land, And our twelue thousand Horse. Wee'l to our Ship, Away my
Thetis.

Enter a Soldiour.

How now worthy Souldier?

Soul. Oh Noble Emperor, do not fight by Sea, Trust not to rotten
plankes: Do you misdoubt This Sword, and these my Wounds; let th'
Egyptians And the Phoenicians go a ducking: wee

Haue vs'd to conquer standing on the earth, And fighting foot to foot

Ant. Well, well, away.

exit Ant. Cleo. & Enob

Soul. By Hercules I thinke I am i'th' right

Cam. Souldier thou art: but his whole action growes Not in the power
on't: so our Leaders leade, And we are Womens mens

Soul. You keepe by Land the Legions and the Horse whole, do you
not?

Ven. Marcus Octauius, Marcus Iusteus,

Publicola, and Celius, are for Sea:

But we keepe whole by Land. This speede of Caesars Carries beyond
beleefe

Soul. While he was yet in Rome,

His power went out in such distractions,

As beguilde all Spies

Cam. Who's his Lieutenant, heare you?

Soul. They say, one Towrus

Cam. Well, I know the man.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes. The Emperor cals Camidius

Cam. With Newes the times with Labour, And throwes forth each
minute, some.

Exeunt.

Enter Caesar with his Army, marching.

Caes Towrus?

Tow. My Lord

Caes Strike not by Land,

Keepe whole, prouoke not Battaile

Till we haue done at Sea. Do not exceede

The Prescript of this Scroule: Our fortune lyes Vpon this iumpe.

Enter.

Enter Anthony, and Enobarbus.

Ant. Set we our Squadrons on yond side o'th' Hill, In eye of Caesars
battaile, from which place We may the number of the Ships behold,

And so proceed accordingly.

Enter.

Camidius Marcheth with his Land Army one way ouer the stage, and
Towrus

the Lieutenant of Caesar the other way: After their going in, is heard
the

noise of a Sea fight. Alarum. Enter Enobarbus and Scarus.

Eno. Naught, naught, al naught, I can behold no longer: Thantoniad,
the Egyptian Admirall,

With all their sixty flye, and turne the Rudder: To see't, mine eyes
are blasted.

Enter Scarrus.

Scar. Gods, & Goddesses, all the whol synod of them!   Eno. What's
thy passion

Scar. The greater Cantle of the world, is lost With very ignorance,
we haue kist away

Kingdomes, and Prouinces

Eno. How appeares the Fight?

Scar. On our side, like the Token'd Pestilence, Where death is sure.
Yon ribaudred Nagge of Egypt, (Whom Leprosie o're-take) i'th' midst
o'th' fight, When vantage like a payre of Twinnes appear'd Both as the
same, or rather ours the elder; (The Breeze vpon her) like a Cow in
Iune, Hoists Sailes, and flyes

Eno. That I beheld:

Mine eyes did sicken at the sight, and could not Indure a further view

Scar. She once being looft,

The Noble ruine of her Magicke, Anthony,

Claps on his Sea-wing, and (like a doting Mallard) Leauing the Fight in
heighth, flyes after her: I neuer saw an Action of such shame;

Experience, Man-hood, Honor, ne're before, Did violate so it selfe

Enob. Alacke, alacke.

Enter Camidius

Cam. Our Fortune on the Sea is out of breath, And sinkes most
lamentably. Had our Generall Bin what he knew himselfe, it had gone
well: Oh his ha's giuen example for our flight, Most grossely by his
owne

Enob. I, are you thereabouts? Why then goodnight indeede

Cam. Toward Peloponnesus are they fled

Scar. 'Tis easie toot,

And there I will attend what further comes

Camid. To Caesar will I render

My Legions and my Horse, sixe Kings alreadie Shew me the way of
yeelding

Eno. Ile yet follow

The wounded chance of Anthony, though my reason Sits in the winde
against me.

Enter Anthony with Attendants.

Ant. Hearke, the Land bids me tread no more vpon't, It is asham'd to
beare me. Friends, come hither, I am so lated in the world, that I

Haue lost my way for euer. I haue a shippe, Laden with Gold, take that,
diuide it: flye, And make your peace with Caesar

Omnes. Fly? Not wee

Ant. I haue fled my selfe, and haue instructed cowards To runne, and
shew their shoulders. Friends be gone, I haue my selfe resolu'd vpon a
course,

Which has no neede of you. Be gone,

My Treasure's in the Harbour. Take it: Oh, I follow'd that I blush to
looke vpon,

My very haires do mutiny: for the white

Reproue the browne for rashnesse, and they them For feare, and doting.
Friends be gone, you shall Haue Letters from me to some Friends, that
will Sweepe your way for you. Pray you looke not sad, Nor make replyes
of loathnesse, take the hint Which my dispaire proclaimes. Let them be
left Which leaues it selfe, to the Sea-side straight way; I will
possesse you of that ship and Treasure. Leaue me, I pray a little: pray
you now,

Nay do so: for indeede I haue lost command, Therefore I pray you, Ile
see you by and by.

Sits downe

Enter Cleopatra led by Charmian and Eros.

Eros. Nay gentle Madam, to him, comfort him

Iras. Do most deere Queene

Char. Do, why, what else?

Cleo. Let me sit downe: Oh Iuno

Ant. No, no, no, no, no

Eros. See you heere, Sir?

Ant. Oh fie, fie, fie

Char. Madam

Iras. Madam, oh good Empresse

Eros. Sir, sir

Ant. Yes my Lord, yes; he at Philippi kept His sword e'ne like a
dancer, while I strooke The leane and wrinkled Cassius, and 'twas I
That the mad Brutus ended: he alone

Dealt on Lieutenantry, and no practise had In the braue squares of
Warre: yet now: no matter

Cleo. Ah stand by

Eros. The Queene my Lord, the Queene

Iras. Go to him, Madam, speake to him, Hee's vnqualitied with very
shame

Cleo. Well then, sustaine me: Oh

Eros. Most Noble Sir arise, the Queene approaches, Her head's
declin'd, and death will cease her, but Your comfort makes the rescue

Ant. I haue offended Reputation,

A most vnnoble sweruing

Eros. Sir, the Queene

Ant. Oh whether hast thou lead me Egypt, see How I conuey my shame,
out of thine eyes, By looking backe what I haue left behinde Stroy'd in
dishonor

Cleo. Oh my Lord, my Lord,

Forgiue my fearfull sayles, I little thought You would haue followed

Ant. Egypt, thou knew'st too well,

My heart was to thy Rudder tyed by'th' strings, And thou should'st towe
me after. O're my spirit The full supremacie thou knew'st, and that Thy
becke, might from the bidding of the Gods Command mee

Cleo. Oh my pardon

Ant. Now I must

To the young man send humble Treaties, dodge And palter in the shifts
of lownes, who

With halfe the bulke o'th' world plaid as I pleas'd, Making, and
marring Fortunes. You did know How much you were my Conqueror, and
that

My Sword, made weake by my affection, would Obey it on all cause

Cleo. Pardon, pardon

Ant. Fall not a teare I say, one of them rates All that is wonne and
lost: Giue me a kisse, Euen this repayes me.

We sent our Schoolemaster, is a come backe? Loue I am full of Lead:
some Wine

Within there, and our Viands: Fortune knowes, We scorne her most, when
most she offers blowes.

Exeunt.

Enter Caesar, Agrippa, and Dollabello, with others.

Caes Let him appeare that's come from Anthony. Know you him

Dolla. Caesar, 'tis his Schoolemaster, An argument that he is
pluckt, when hither He sends so poore a Pinnion of his Wing,

Which had superfluous Kings for Messengers, Not many Moones gone by.

Enter Ambassador from Anthony.

Caesar. Approach, and speake

Amb. Such as I am, I come from Anthony: I was of late as petty to
his ends,

As is the Morne-dew on the Mertle leafe

To his grand Sea

Caes Bee't so, declare thine office

Amb. Lord of his Fortunes he salutes thee, and Requires to liue in
Egypt, which not granted He Lessons his Requests, and to thee sues To
let him breath betweene the Heauens and Earth A priuate man in Athens:
this for him.

Next, Cleopatra does confesse thy Greatnesse, Submits her to thy might,
and of thee craues The Circle of the Ptolomies for her heyres, Now
hazarded to thy Grace

Caes For Anthony,

I haue no eares to his request. The Queene, Of Audience, nor Desire
shall faile, so shee From Egypt driue her all-disgraced Friend, Or take
his life there. This if shee performe, She shall not sue vnheard. So to
them both

Amb. Fortune pursue thee

Caes Bring him through the Bands:

To try thy Eloquence, now 'tis time, dispatch, From Anthony winne
Cleopatra, promise

And in our Name, what she requires, adde more From thine inuention,
offers. Women are not In their best Fortunes strong; but want will
periure The ne're touch'd Vestall. Try thy cunning Thidias, Make thine
owne Edict for thy paines, which we Will answer as a Law

Thid. Caesar. I go

Caesar. Obserue how Anthony becomes his flaw, And what thou think'st
his very action speakes In euery power that mooues

Thid. Caesar, I shall.

Exeunt.

Enter Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, & Iras.

Cleo. What shall we do, Enobarbus?

Eno. Thinke, and dye

Cleo. Is Anthony, or we in fault for this?   Eno. Anthony onely,
that would make his will Lord of his Reason. What though you fled, From
that great face of Warre, whose seuerall ranges Frighted each other?
Why should he follow? The itch of his Affection should not then Haue
nickt his Captain-ship, at such a point, When halfe to halfe the world
oppos'd, he being The meered question? 'Twas a shame no lesse Then was
his losse, to course your flying Flagges, And leaue his Nauy gazing

Cleo. Prythee peace.

Enter the Ambassador, with Anthony.

Ant. Is that his answer?

Amb. I my Lord

Ant. The Queene shall then haue courtesie, So she will yeeld vs vp

Am. He sayes so

Antho. Let her know't. To the Boy Caesar send this grizled head, and
he will fill thy wishes to the brimme, With Principalities

Cleo. That head my Lord?

Ant. To him againe, tell him he weares the Rose Of youth vpon him:
from which, the world should note Something particular: His Coine,
Ships, Legions, May be a Cowards, whose Ministers would preuaile Vnder
the seruice of a Childe, as soone

As i'th' Command of Caesar. I dare him therefore To lay his gay
Comparisons a-part,

And answer me declin'd, Sword against Sword, Our selues alone: Ile
write it: Follow me

Eno. Yes like enough: hye battel'd Caesar will Vnstate his
happinesse, and be Stag'd to'th' shew Against a Sworder. I see mens
Iudgements are A parcell of their Fortunes, and things outward Do draw
the inward quality after them

To suffer all alike, that he should dreame, Knowing all measures, the
full Caesar will Answer his emptinesse; Caesar thou hast subdu'de His
iudgement too.

Enter a Seruant.

Ser. A Messenger from Caesar

Cleo. What no more Ceremony? See my Women, Against the blowne Rose
may they stop their nose, That kneel'd vnto the Buds. Admit him sir

Eno. Mine honesty, and I, beginne to square, The Loyalty well held
to Fooles, does make Our Faith meere folly: yet he that can endure To
follow with Allegeance a falne Lord,

Does conquer him that did his Master conquer, And earnes a place i'th'
Story.

Enter Thidias.

Cleo. Caesars will

Thid. Heare it apart

Cleo. None but Friends: say boldly

Thid. So haply are they Friends to Anthony

Enob. He needs as many (Sir) as Caesar ha's, Or needs not vs. If
Caesar please, our Master Will leape to be his Friend: For vs you know,
Whose he is, we are, and that is Caesars

Thid. So. Thus then thou most renown'd, Caesar intreats, Not to
consider in what case thou stand'st Further then he is Caesars

Cleo. Go on, right Royall

Thid. He knowes that you embrace not Anthony As you did loue, but as
you feared him

Cleo. Oh

Thid. The scarre's vpon your Honor, therefore he Does pitty, as
constrained blemishes,

Not as deserued

Cleo. He is a God,

And knowes what is most right. Mine Honour Was not yeelded, but
conquer'd meerely

Eno. To be sure of that, I will aske Anthony. Sir, sir, thou art so
leakie

That we must leaue thee to thy sinking, for Thy deerest quit thee.

Exit Enob.

Thid. Shall I say to Caesar,

What you require of him: for he partly begges To be desir'd to giue. It
much would please him, That of his Fortunes you should make a staffe To
leane vpon. But it would warme his spirits To heare from me you had
left Anthony,

And put your selfe vnder his shrowd, the vniuersal Landlord

Cleo. What's your name?

Thid. My name is Thidias

Cleo. Most kinde Messenger,

Say to great Caesar this in disputation,

I kisse his conqu'ring hand: Tell him, I am prompt To lay my Crowne
at's feete, and there to kneele. Tell him, from his all-obeying breath,
I heare The doome of Egypt

Thid. 'Tis your Noblest course:

Wisedome and Fortune combatting together, If that the former dare but
what it can,

No chance may shake it. Giue me grace to lay My dutie on your hand

Cleo. Your Caesars Father oft,

(When he hath mus'd of taking kingdomes in) Bestow'd his lips on that
vnworthy place, As it rain'd kisses.

Enter Anthony and Enobarbus.

Ant. Fauours? By Ioue that thunders. What art thou Fellow?   Thid.
One that but performes

The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest To haue command obey'd

Eno. You will be whipt

Ant. Approch there: ah you Kite. Now Gods & diuels Authority melts
from me of late. When I cried hoa, Like Boyes vnto a musse, Kings would
start forth, And cry, your will. Haue you no eares?

I am Anthony yet. Take hence this Iack, and whip him. Enter a Seruant.

Eno. 'Tis better playing with a Lions whelpe, Then with an old one
dying

Ant. Moone and Starres,

Whip him: wer't twenty of the greatest Tributaries That do acknowledge
Caesar, should I finde them So sawcy with the hand of she heere, what's
her name Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him Fellowes, Till like a Boy
you see him crindge his face, And whine aloud for mercy. Take him
hence

Thid. Marke Anthony

Ant. Tugge him away: being whipt

Bring him againe, the Iacke of Caesars shall Beare vs an arrant to
him.

Exeunt. with Thidius.

You were halfe blasted ere I knew you: Ha? Haue I my pillow left
vnprest in Rome,

Forborne the getting of a lawfull Race,

And by a Iem of women, to be abus'd

By one that lookes on Feeders?

Cleo. Good my Lord

Ant. You haue beene a boggeler euer,

But when we in our viciousnesse grow hard (Oh misery on't) the wise
Gods seele our eyes In our owne filth, drop our cleare iudgements, make
vs Adore our errors, laugh at's while we strut To our confusion

Cleo. Oh, is't come to this?

Ant. I found you as a Morsell, cold vpon Dead Caesars Trencher: Nay,
you were a Fragment Of Gneius Pompeyes, besides what hotter houres
Vnregistred in vulgar Fame, you haue

Luxuriously pickt out. For I am sure,

Though you can guesse what Temperance should be, You know not what it
is

Cleo. Wherefore is this?

Ant. To let a Fellow that will take rewards, And say, God quit you,
be familiar with

My play-fellow, your hand; this Kingly Seale, And plighter of high
hearts. O that I were Vpon the hill of Basan, to out-roare

The horned Heard, for I haue sauage cause, And to proclaime it ciuilly,
were like

A halter'd necke, which do's the Hangman thanke, For being yare about
him. Is he whipt?

Enter a Seruant with Thidias.

Ser. Soundly, my Lord

Ant. Cried he? and begg'd a Pardon?

Ser. He did aske fauour

Ant. If that thy Father liue, let him repent Thou was't not made his
daughter, and be thou sorrie To follow Caesar in his Triumph, since

Thou hast bin whipt. For following him, henceforth The white hand of a
Lady Feauer thee,

Shake thou to looke on't. Get thee backe to Caesar, Tell him thy
entertainment: looke thou say He makes me angry with him. For he seemes
Proud and disdainfull, harping on what I am, Not what he knew I was. He
makes me angry, And at this time most easie 'tis to doo't: When my good
Starres, that were my former guides Haue empty left their Orbes, and
shot their Fires Into th' Abisme of hell. If he mislike,

My speech, and what is done, tell him he has Hiparchus, my enfranched
Bondman, whom

He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture, As he shall like to quit
me. Vrge it thou: Hence with thy stripes, be gone.

Exit Thid.

Cleo. Haue you done yet?

Ant. Alacke our Terrene Moone is now Eclipst, And it portends alone
the fall of Anthony

Cleo. I must stay his time?

Ant. To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes With one that tyes his
points

Cleo. Not know me yet?

Ant. Cold-hearted toward me?

Cleo. Ah (Deere) if I be so,

From my cold heart let Heauen ingender haile, And poyson it in the
sourse, and the first stone Drop in my necke: as it determines so

Dissolue my life, the next Caesarian smile, Till by degrees the memory
of my wombe,

Together with my braue Egyptians all,

By the discandering of this pelleted storme, Lye grauelesse, till the
Flies and Gnats of Nyle Haue buried them for prey

Ant. I am satisfied:

Caesar sets downe in Alexandria, where

I will oppose his Fate. Our force by Land, Hath Nobly held, our seuer'd
Nauie too

Haue knit againe, and Fleete, threatning most Sea-like. Where hast thou
bin my heart? Dost thou heare Lady? If from the Field I shall returne
once more To kisse these Lips, I will appeare in Blood, I, and my
Sword, will earne our Chronicle, There's hope in't yet

Cleo. That's my braue Lord

Ant. I will be trebble-sinewed, hearted, breath'd, And fight
maliciously: for when mine houres Were nice and lucky, men did ransome
liues Of me for iests: But now, Ile set my teeth, And send to
darkenesse all that stop me. Come, Let's haue one other gawdy night:
Call to me All my sad Captaines, fill our Bowles once more: Let's mocke
the midnight Bell

Cleo. It is my Birth-day,

I had thought t'haue held it poore. But since my Lord Is Anthony
againe, I will be Cleopatra

Ant. We will yet do well

Cleo. Call all his Noble Captaines to my Lord

Ant. Do so, wee'l speake to them,

And to night Ile force

The Wine peepe through their scarres.

Come on (my Queene)

There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight Ile make death loue me:
for I will contend Euen with his pestilent Sythe.

Exeunt.

Eno. Now hee'l out-stare the Lightning, to be furious Is to be
frighted out of feare, and in that moode The Doue will pecke the
Estridge; and I see still A diminution in our Captaines braine,

Restores his heart; when valour prayes in reason, It eates the Sword it
fights with: I will seeke Some way to leaue him.

Exeunt.

Enter Caesar, Agrippa, & Mecenas with his Army, Caesar reading a
Letter.

Caes He calles me Boy, and chides as he had power To beate me out of
Egypt. My Messenger

He hath whipt with Rods, dares me to personal Combat. Caesar to
Anthony: let the old Ruffian know, I haue many other wayes to dye:
meane time Laugh at his Challenge

Mece. Caesar must thinke,

When one so great begins to rage, hee's hunted Euen to falling. Giue
him no breath, but now Make boote of his distraction: Neuer anger Made
good guard for it selfe

Caes Let our best heads know,

That to morrow, the last of many Battailes We meane to fight. Within
our Files there are, Of those that seru'd Marke Anthony but late,
Enough to fetch him in. See it done,

And Feast the Army, we haue store to doo't, And they haue earn'd the
waste. Poore Anthony.

Exeunt.

Enter Anthony, Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, Iras, Alexas, with
others.

Ant. He will not fight with me, Domitian?   Eno. No?

Ant. Why should he not?

Eno. He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune, He is twenty
men to one

Ant. To morrow Soldier,

By Sea and Land Ile fight: or I will liue, Or bathe my dying Honor in
the blood

Shall make it liue againe. Woo't thou fight well

Eno. Ile strike, and cry, Take all

Ant. Well said, come on:

Call forth my Houshold Seruants, lets to night Enter 3 or 4 Seruitors.

Be bounteous at our Meale. Giue me thy hand, Thou hast bin rightly
honest, so hast thou, Thou, and thou, and thou: you haue seru'd me
well, And Kings haue beene your fellowes

Cleo. What meanes this?

Eno. 'Tis one of those odde tricks which sorow shoots Out of the
minde

Ant. And thou art honest too:

I wish I could be made so many men,

And all of you clapt vp together, in

An Anthony: that I might do you seruice,

So good as you haue done

Omnes. The Gods forbid

Ant. Well, my good Fellowes, 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

Cleo. What does he meane?

Eno. To make his Followers weepe

Ant. 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'l serue another Master. I looke on you, As one that takes his
leaue. Mine honest Friends, I turne you not away, but like a Master

Married to your good seruice, stay till death: Tend me to night two
houres, I aske no more, And the Gods yeeld you for't

Eno. What meane you (Sir)

To giue them this discomfort? Looke they weepe, And I an Asse, am
Onyon-ey'd; for shame,

Transforme vs not to women

Ant. 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 burne this night
with Torches: Know (my hearts) I hope well of to morrow, and will leade
you, Where rather Ile expect victorious life,

Then death, and Honor. Let's to Supper, come, And drowne
consideration.

Exeunt.

Enter a Company of Soldiours.

1.Sol. Brother, goodnight: to morrow is the day

2.Sol. It will determine one way: Fare you well. Heard you of
nothing strange about the streets

1 Nothing: what newes?

2 Belike 'tis but a Rumour, good night to you

1 Well sir, good night.

They meete other Soldiers.

2 Souldiers, haue carefull Watch

1 And you: Goodnight, goodnight.

They place themselues in euery corner of the Stage.

2 Heere we: and if to morrow

Our Nauie thriue, I haue an absolute hope Our Landmen will stand vp

1 'Tis a braue Army, and full of purpose.

Musicke of the Hoboyes is vnder the Stage.

2 Peace, what noise?

1 List, list

2 Hearke

1 Musicke i'th' Ayre

3 Vnder the earth

4 It signes well, do's it not?

3 No

1 Peace I say: What should this meane?   2 'Tis the God Hercules,
whom Anthony loued, Now leaues him

1 Walke, let's see if other Watchmen

Do heare what we do?

2 How now Maisters?

Speak together.

Omnes. How now? how now? do you heare this?   1 I, is't not strange?

3 Do you heare Masters? Do you heare?

1 Follow the noyse so farre as we haue quarter. Let's see how it will
giue off

Omnes. Content: 'Tis strange.

Exeunt.

Enter Anthony and Cleopatra, with others.

Ant. Eros, mine Armour Eros

Cleo. Sleepe a little

Ant. No my Chucke. Eros, come mine Armor Eros. Enter Eros.

Come good Fellow, put thine Iron on,

If Fortune be not ours to day, it is

Because we braue her. Come

Cleo. Nay, Ile helpe too, Anthony.

What's this for? Ah let be, let be, thou art The Armourer of my heart:
False, false: This, this, Sooth-law Ile helpe: Thus it must bee

Ant. Well, well, we shall thriue now.

Seest thou my good Fellow. Go, put on thy defences

Eros. Briefely Sir

Cleo. Is not this buckled well?

Ant. Rarely, rarely:

He that vnbuckles this, till we do please To daft for our Repose, shall
heare a storme. Thou fumblest Eros, and my Queenes a Squire More tight
at this, then thou: Dispatch. O Loue, That thou couldst see my Warres
to day, and knew'st The Royall Occupation, thou should'st see A
Workeman in't.

Enter an Armed Soldier.

Good morrow to thee, welcome,

Thou look'st like him that knowes a warlike Charge: To businesse that
we loue, we rise betime, And go too't with delight

Soul. A thousand Sir, early though't be, haue on their Riueted trim,
and at the Port expect you.

Showt. Trumpets Flourish. Enter Captaines, and Souldiers.

Alex. The Morne is faire: Good morrow Generall

All. Good morrow Generall

Ant. 'Tis well blowne Lads.

This Morning, like the spirit of a youth

That meanes to be of note, begins betimes. So, so: Come giue me that,
this way, well-sed. Fare thee well Dame, what ere becomes of me, This
is a Soldiers kisse: rebukeable,

And worthy shamefull checke it were, to stand On more Mechanicke
Complement, Ile leaue thee. Now like a man of Steele, you that will
fight, Follow me close, Ile bring you too't: Adieu.

Exeunt.

Char. Please you retyre to your Chamber?   Cleo. Lead me:

He goes forth gallantly: That he and Caesar might Determine this great
Warre in single fight; Then Anthony; but now. Well on.

Exeunt.

Trumpets sound. Enter Anthony, and Eros.

Eros. The Gods make this a happy day to Anthony

Ant. Would thou, & those thy scars had once preuaild To make me
fight at Land

Eros. Had'st thou done so,

The Kings that haue reuolted, and the Soldier That has this morning
left thee, would haue still Followed thy heeles

Ant. Whose gone this morning?

Eros. Who? one euer neere thee, call for Enobarbus, He shall not
heare thee, or from Caesars Campe, Say I am none of thine

Ant. What sayest thou?

Sold. Sir he is with Caesar

Eros. Sir, his Chests and Treasure he has not with him

Ant. Is he gone?

Sol. Most certaine

Ant. Go Eros, send his Treasure after, do it, Detaine no iot I
charge thee: write to him, (I will subscribe) gentle adieu's, and
greetings; Say, that I wish he neuer finde more cause To change a
Master. Oh my Fortunes haue

Corrupted honest men. Dispatch Enobarbus.

Exit

Flourish. Enter Agrippa, Caesar, with Enobarbus, and Dollabella.

Caes Go forth Agrippa, and begin the fight: Our will is Anthony be
tooke aliue:

Make it so knowne

Agrip. Caesar, I shall

Caesar. The time of vniuersall peace is neere: Proue this a
prosp'rous day, the three nook'd world Shall beare the Oliue freely.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Anthony is come into the Field

Caes Go charge Agrippa,

Plant those that haue reuolted in the Vant, That Anthony may seeme to
spend his Fury

Vpon himselfe.

Exeunt.

Enob. Alexas did reuolt, and went to Iewry on Affaires of Anthony,
there did disswade

Great Herod to incline himselfe to Caesar, And leaue his Master
Anthony. For this paines, Caesar hath hang'd him: Camindius and the
rest That fell away, haue entertainment, but

No honourable trust: I haue done ill,

Of which I do accuse my selfe so sorely,

That I will ioy no more.

Enter a Soldier of Caesars.

Sol. Enobarbus, Anthony

Hath after thee sent all thy Treasure, with His Bounty ouer-plus. The
Messenger

Came on my guard, and at thy Tent is now

Vnloading of his Mules

Eno. I giue it you

Sol. Mocke not Enobarbus,

I tell you true: Best you saf't the bringer Out of the hoast, I must
attend mine Office, Or would haue done't my selfe. Your Emperor
Continues still a Ioue.

Exit

Enob. I am alone the Villaine of the earth, And feele I am so most.
Oh Anthony,

Thou Mine of Bounty, how would'st thou haue payed My better seruice,
when my turpitude

Thou dost so Crowne with Gold. This blowes my hart, If swift thought
breake it not: a swifter meane Shall out-strike thought, but thought
will doo't. I feele I fight against thee: No I will go seeke

Some Ditch, wherein to dye: the foul'st best fits My latter part of
life.

Enter.

Alarum, Drummes and Trumpets. Enter Agrippa.

Agrip. Retire, we haue engag'd our selues too farre: Caesar himselfe
ha's worke, and our oppression Exceeds what we expected.

Enter.

Alarums. Enter Anthony, and Scarrus wounded.

Scar. O my braue Emperor, this is fought indeed, Had we done so at
first, we had drouen them home With clowts about their heads.

Far off.

Ant. Thou bleed'st apace

Scar. I had a wound heere that was like a T, But now 'tis made an H

Ant. They do retyre

Scar. Wee'l beat 'em into Bench-holes, I haue yet Roome for six
scotches more

Enter Eros.

Eros. They are beaten Sir, and our aduantage serues For a faire
victory

Scar. Let vs score their backes,

And snatch 'em vp, as we take Hares behinde, 'Tis sport to maul a
Runner

Ant. I will reward thee

Once for thy sprightly comfort, and ten-fold For thy good valour. Come
thee on

Scar. Ile halt after.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Anthony againe in a March. Scarrus, with others.

Ant. We haue beate him to his Campe: Runne one Before, & let the
Queen know of our guests: to morrow Before the Sun shall see's, wee'l
spill the blood That ha's to day escap'd. I thanke you all, For doughty
handed are you, and haue fought Not as you seru'd the Cause, but as't
had beene Each mans like mine: you haue shewne all Hectors. Enter the
Citty, clip your Wiues, your Friends, Tell them your feats, whil'st
they with ioyfull teares Wash the congealement from your wounds, and
kisse The Honour'd-gashes whole.

Enter Cleopatra.

Giue me thy hand,

To this great Faiery, Ile commend thy acts, Make her thankes blesse
thee. Oh thou day o'th' world, Chaine mine arm'd necke, leape thou,
Attyre and all Through proofe of Harnesse to my heart, and there Ride
on the pants triumphing

Cleo. Lord of Lords.

Oh infinite Vertue, comm'st thou smiling from The worlds great snare
vncaught

Ant. Mine Nightingale,

We haue beate them to their Beds.

What Gyrle, though gray

Do somthing mingle with our yonger brown, yet ha we A Braine that
nourishes our Nerues, and can Get gole for gole of youth. Behold this
man, Commend vnto his Lippes thy fauouring hand, Kisse it my Warriour:
He hath fought to day, As if a God in hate of Mankinde, had

Destroyed in such a shape

Cleo. Ile giue thee Friend

An Armour all of Gold: it was a Kings

Ant. He has deseru'd it, were it Carbunkled Like holy Phoebus Carre.
Giue me thy hand, Through Alexandria make a iolly March,

Beare our hackt Targets, like the men that owe them. Had our great
Pallace the capacity

To Campe this hoast, we all would sup together, And drinke Carowses to
the next dayes Fate Which promises Royall perill, Trumpetters With
brazen dinne blast you the Citties eare, Make mingle with our ratling
Tabourines,

That heauen and earth may strike their sounds together, Applauding our
approach.

Exeunt.

Enter a Centerie, and his Company, Enobarbus followes.

Cent. If we be not releeu'd within this houre, We must returne to'th'
Court of Guard: the night Is shiny, and they say, we shall embattaile
By'th' second houre i'th' Morne

1.Watch. This last day was a shrew'd one too's

Enob. Oh beare me witnesse night

2 What man is this?

1 Stand close, and list him

Enob. Be witnesse to me (O thou blessed Moone) When men reuolted
shall vpon Record

Beare hatefull memory: poore Enobarbus did Before thy face repent

Cent. Enobarbus?

2 Peace: Hearke further

Enob. Oh Soueraigne Mistris of true Melancholly, The poysonous dampe
of night dispunge vpon me, That Life, a very Rebell to my will,

May hang no longer on me. Throw my heart

Against the flint and hardnesse of my fault, Which being dried with
greefe, will breake to powder, And finish all foule thoughts. Oh
Anthony, Nobler then my reuolt is Infamous,

Forgiue me in thine owne particular,

But let the world ranke me in Register

A Master leauer, and a fugitiue:

Oh Anthony! Oh Anthony!

1 Let's speake to him

Cent. Let's heare him, for the things he speakes May concerne
Caesar

2 Let's do so; but he sleepes

Cent. Swoonds rather, for so bad a Prayer as his Was neuer yet for
sleepe

1 Go we to him

2 Awake sir, awake, speake to vs

1 Heare you sir?

Cent. The hand of death hath raught him.

Drummes afarre off.

Hearke the Drummes demurely wake the sleepers: Let vs beare him to'th'
Court of Guard: he is of note: Our houre is fully out

2 Come on then, he may recouer yet.

Exeunt.

Enter Anthony and Scarrus, with their Army.

Ant. Their preparation is to day by Sea, We please them not by Land

Scar. For both, my Lord

Ant. I would they'ld fight i'th' Fire, or i'th' Ayre, Wee'ld fight
there too. But this it is, our Foote Vpon the hilles adioyning to the
Citty

Shall stay with vs. Order for Sea is giuen, They haue put forth the
Hauen:

Where their appointment we may best discouer, And looke on their
endeuour.

Exeunt.

Enter Caesar, and his Army.

Caes But being charg'd, we will be still by Land, Which as I tak't we
shall, for his best force Is forth to Man his Gallies. To the Vales,
And hold our best aduantage.

Exeunt.

Alarum afarre off, as at a Sea-fight. Enter Anthony, and Scarrus.

Ant. Yet they are not ioyn'd:

Where yon'd Pine does stand, I shall discouer all. Ile bring thee word
straight, how 'tis like to go. Enter.

Scar. Swallowes haue built

In Cleopatra's Sailes their nests. The Auguries Say, they know not,
they cannot tell, looke grimly, And dare not speake their knowledge.
Anthony, Is valiant, and deiected, and by starts

His fretted Fortunes giue him hope and feare Of what he has, and has
not.

Enter Anthony.

Ant. All is lost:

This fowle Egyptian hath betrayed me:

My Fleete hath yeelded to the Foe, and yonder They cast their Caps vp,
and Carowse together Like Friends long lost. Triple-turn'd Whore, 'tis
thou Hast sold me to this Nouice, and my heart Makes onely Warres on
thee. Bid them all flye: For when I am reueng'd vpon my Charme,

I haue done all. Bid them all flye, be gone. Oh Sunne, thy vprise shall
I see no more, Fortune, and Anthony part heere, euen heere Do we shake
hands? All come to this? The hearts That pannelled me at heeles, to
whom I gaue Their wishes, do dis-Candie, melt their sweets On
blossoming Caesar: And this Pine is barkt, That ouer-top'd them all.
Betray'd I am.

Oh this false Soule of Egypt! this graue Charme, Whose eye beck'd forth
my Wars, & cal'd them home: Whose Bosome was my Crownet, my chiefe end,
Like a right Gypsie, hath at fast and loose Beguil'd me, to the very
heart of losse.

What Eros, Eros?

Enter Cleopatra.

Ah, thou Spell! Auaunt

Cleo. Why is my Lord enrag'd against his Loue?   Ant. Vanish, or I
shall giue thee thy deseruing, And blemish Caesars Triumph. Let him
take thee, And hoist thee vp to the shouting Plebeians, Follow his
Chariot, like the greatest spot Of all thy Sex. Most Monster-like be
shewne For poor'st Diminitiues, for Dolts, and let Patient Octauia,
plough thy visage vp

With her prepared nailes.

exit Cleopatra.

'Tis well th'art gone,

If it be well to liue. But better 'twere

Thou fell'st into my furie, for one death Might haue preuented many.
Eros, hoa!

The shirt of Nessus is vpon me, teach me

Alcides, thou mine Ancestor, thy rage.

Let me lodge Licas on the hornes o'th' Moone, And with those hands that
graspt the heauiest Club, Subdue my worthiest selfe: The Witch shall
die, To the young Roman Boy she hath sold me, and I fall Vnder this
plot: She dyes for't. Eros hoa? Enter.

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, Mardian.

Cleo. Helpe me my women: Oh hee's more mad Then Telamon for his
Shield, the Boare of Thessaly Was neuer so imbost

Char. To'th' Monument, there locke your selfe, And send him word you
are dead:

The Soule and Body riue not more in parting, Then greatnesse going off

Cleo. To'th' Monument:

Mardian, go tell him I haue slaine my selfe: Say, that the last I spoke
was Anthony,

And word it (prythee) pitteously. Hence Mardian, And bring me how he
takes my death to'th' Monument.

Exeunt.

Enter Anthony, and Eros.

Ant. Eros, thou yet behold'st me?

Eros. I Noble Lord

Ant. Sometime we see a clowd that's Dragonish, A vapour sometime,
like a Beare, or Lyon, A toward Cittadell, a pendant Rocke,

A forked Mountaine, or blew Promontorie

With Trees vpon't, that nodde vnto the world, And mocke our eyes with
Ayre.

Thou hast seene these Signes,

They are blacke Vespers Pageants

Eros. I my Lord

Ant. That which is now a Horse, euen with a thoght the Racke
dislimes, and makes it indistinct As water is in water

Eros. It does my Lord

Ant. My good Knaue Eros, now thy Captaine is Euen such a body: Heere
I am Anthony,

Yet cannot hold this visible shape (my Knaue) I made these warres for
Egypt, and the Queene, Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine:
Which whil'st it was mine, had annext vntoo't A Million moe, (now
lost:) shee Eros has

Packt Cards with Caesars, and false plaid my Glory Vnto an Enemies
triumph.

Nay, weepe not gentle Eros, there is left vs Our selues to end our
selues.

Enter Mardian.

Oh thy vilde Lady, she has rob'd me of my Sword

Mar. No Anthony,

My Mistris lou'd thee, and her Fortunes mingled with thine intirely

Ant. Hence sawcy Eunuch peace, she hath betraid me, And shall dye
the death

Mar. Death of one person, can be paide but once, And that she ha's
discharg'd. What thou would'st do Is done vnto thy hand: the last she
spake Was Anthony, most Noble Anthony.

Then in the midd'st a tearing grone did breake The name of Anthony: it
was diuided

Betweene her heart, and lips: she tendred life Thy name so buried in
her

Ant. Dead then?

Mar. Dead

Ant. Vnarme Eros, the long dayes taske is done, And we must sleepe:
That thou depart'st hence safe Does pay thy labour richly: Go.

exit Mardian.

Off, plucke off,

The seuen-fold shield of Aiax cannot keepe The battery from my heart.
Oh cleaue my sides. Heart, once be stronger then thy Continent, Cracke
thy fraile Case. Apace Eros, apace; No more a Soldier: bruised peeces
go,

You haue bin Nobly borne. From me awhile.

exit Eros

I will o're-take thee Cleopatra, and

Weepe for my pardon. So it must be, for now All length is Torture:
since the Torch is out, Lye downe and stray no farther. Now all labour
Marres what it does: yea, very force entangles It selfe with strength:
Seale then and all is done. Eros? I come my Queene. Eros? Stay for me,
Where Soules do couch on Flowers, wee'l hand in hand, And with our
sprightly Port make the Ghostes gaze: Dido, and her Aeneas shall want
Troopes,

And all the haunt be ours. Come Eros, Eros. Enter Eros.

Eros. What would my Lord?

Ant. Since Cleopatra dyed,

I haue liu'd in such dishonour, that the Gods Detest my basenesse. I,
that with my Sword, Quarter'd the World, and o're greene Neptunes backe
With Ships, made Cities; condemne my selfe, to lacke The Courage of a
Woman, lesse Noble minde Then she which by her death, our Caesar telles
I am Conqueror of my selfe. Thou art sworne Eros, That when the exigent
should come, which now Is come indeed: When I should see behinde me Th'
ineuitable prosecution of disgrace and horror, That on my command, thou
then would'st kill me. Doo't, the time is come: Thou strik'st not me,
'Tis Caesar thou defeat'st. Put colour in thy Cheeke

Eros. The Gods with-hold me,

Shall I do that which all the Parthian Darts, (Though Enemy) lost ayme,
and could not

Ant. Eros,

Would'st thou be window'd in great Rome, and see Thy Master thus with
pleacht Armes, bending downe His corrigible necke, his face subdu'de

To penetratiue shame; whil'st the wheel'd seate Of Fortunate Caesar
drawne before him, branded His Basenesse that ensued

Eros. I would not see't

Ant. Come then: for with a wound I must be cur'd. Draw that thy
honest Sword, which thou hast worne Most vsefull for thy Country

Eros. Oh sir, pardon me

Ant. When I did make thee free, swor'st y not then To do this when I
bad thee? Do it at once, Or thy precedent Seruices are all

But accidents vnpurpos'd. Draw, and come

Eros. Turne from me then that Noble countenance, Wherein the worship
of the whole world lyes

Ant. Loe thee

Eros. My sword is drawne

Ant. Then let it do at once

The thing why thou hast drawne it

Eros. My deere Master,

My Captaine, and my Emperor. Let me say

Before I strike this bloody stroke, Farwell

Ant. 'Tis said man, and farewell

Eros. Farewell great Chiefe. Shall I strike now?   Ant. Now Eros.

Killes himselfe.

Eros. Why there then:

Thus I do escape the sorrow of Anthonies death

Ant. Thrice-Nobler then my selfe,

Thou teachest me: Oh valiant Eros, what

I should, and thou could'st not, my Queene and Eros Haue by their braue
instruction got vpon me A Noblenesse in Record. But I will bee

A Bride-groome in my death, and run intoo't As to a Louers bed. Come
then, and Eros,

Thy Master dies thy Scholler; to do thus

I learnt of thee. How, not dead? Not dead? The Guard, how? Oh dispatch
me.

Enter a Guard.

1.Guard. What's the noise?

Ant. I haue done my worke ill Friends:

Oh make an end of what I haue begun

2 The Starre is falne

1 And time is at his Period

All. Alas, and woe

Ant. Let him that loues me, strike me dead

1 Not I

2 Nor I

3 Nor any one.

Exeunt.

Decretus. Thy death and fortunes bid thy folowers fly This sword but
shewne to Caesar with this tydings, Shall enter me with him.

Enter Diomedes.

Dio. Where's Anthony?

Decre. There Diomed there

Diom. Liues he: wilt thou not answer man?   Ant. Art thou there
Diomed?

Draw thy sword, and giue mee,

Suffising strokes for death

Diom. Most absolute Lord:

My Mistris Cleopatra sent me to thee

Ant. When did shee send thee?

Diom. Now my Lord

Anth. Where is she?

Diom. Lockt in her Monument: she had a Prophesying feare Of what hath
come to passe: for when she saw (Which neuer shall be found) you did
suspect She had dispos'd with Caesar, and that your rage Would not be
purg'd, she sent you word she was dead: But fearing since how it might
worke, hath sent Me to proclaime the truth, and I am come

I dread, too late

Ant. Too late good Diomed: call my Guard I prythee

Dio. What hoa: the Emperors Guard,

The Guard, what hoa? Come, your Lord calles. Enter 4. or 5. of the
Guard of Anthony.

Ant. Beare me good Friends where Cleopatra bides, 'Tis the last
seruice that I shall command you

1 Woe, woe are we sir, you may not liue to weare All your true
Followers out

All. Most heauy day

Ant. Nay good my Fellowes, do not please sharp fate To grace it with
your sorrowes. Bid that welcome Which comes to punish vs, and we punish
it Seeming to beare it lightly. Take me vp,

I haue led you oft, carry me now good Friends, And haue my thankes for
all.

Exit bearing Anthony

Enter Cleopatra, and her Maides aloft, with Charmian & Iras.

Cleo. Oh Charmian, I will neuer go from hence

Char. Be comforted deere Madam

Cleo. No, I will not:

All strange and terrible euents are welcome, But comforts we dispise;
our size of sorrow Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great As that
which makes it.

Enter Diomed.

How now? is he dead?

Diom. His death's vpon him, but not dead. Looke out o'th other side
your Monument,

His Guard haue brought him thither.

Enter Anthony, and the Guard.

Cleo. Oh Sunne,

Burne the great Sphere thou mou'st in, darkling stand The varrying
shore o'th' world. O Antony, Antony, Antony Helpe Charmian, helpe Iras
helpe: helpe Friends Below, let's draw him hither

Ant. Peace,

Not Caesars Valour hath o'rethrowne Anthony, But Anthonie's hath
Triumpht on it selfe

Cleo. So it should be,

That none but Anthony should conquer Anthony, But woe 'tis so

Ant. I am dying Egypt, dying; onely

I heere importune death a-while, vntill

Of many thousand kisses, the poore last

I lay vpon thy lippes

Cleo. I dare not Deere,

Deere my Lord pardon: I dare not,

Least I be taken: nor th' Imperious shew

Of the full-Fortun'd Caesar, euer shall

Be brooch'd with me, if Knife, Drugges, Serpents haue Edge, sting, or
operation. I am safe:

Your Wife Octauia, with her modest eyes,

And still Conclusion, shall acquire no Honour Demuring vpon me: but
come, come Anthony, Helpe me my women, we must draw thee vp:

Assist good Friends

Ant. Oh quicke, or I am gone

Cleo. Heere's sport indeede:

How heauy weighes my Lord?

Our strength is all gone into heauinesse, That makes the waight. Had I
great Iuno's power, The strong wing'd Mercury should fetch thee vp, And
set thee by Ioues side. Yet come a little, Wishers were euer Fooles. Oh
come, come, come,

They heaue Anthony aloft to Cleopatra.

And welcome, welcome. Dye when thou hast liu'd, Quicken with kissing:
had my lippes that power, Thus would I weare them out

All. A heauy sight

Ant. I am dying Egypt, dying.

Giue me some Wine, and let me speake a little

Cleo. No, let me speake, and let me rayle so hye, That the false
Huswife Fortune, breake her Wheele, Prouok'd by my offence

Ant. One word (sweet Queene)

Of Caesar seeke your Honour, with your safety. Oh

Cleo. They do not go together

Ant. Gentle heare me,

None about Caesar trust, but Proculeius

Cleo. My Resolution, and my hands, Ile trust, None about Caesar

Ant. 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 liued. The greatest Prince o'th' world, The Noblest: and do
now not basely dye,

Not Cowardly put off my Helmet to

My Countreyman. A Roman, by a Roman

Valiantly vanquish'd. Now my Spirit is going, I can no more

Cleo. Noblest of men, woo't dye?

Hast thou no care of me, shall I abide

In this dull world, which in thy absence is No better then a Stye? Oh
see my women:

The Crowne o'th' earth doth melt. My Lord? Oh wither'd is the Garland
of the Warre,

The Souldiers pole is falne: young Boyes and Gyrles Are leuell now with
men: The oddes is gone, And there is nothing left remarkeable

Beneath the visiting Moone

Char. Oh quietnesse, Lady

Iras. She's dead too, our Soueraigne

Char. Lady

Iras. Madam

Char. Oh Madam, Madam, Madam

Iras. Royall Egypt: Empresse

Char. Peace, peace, Iras

Cleo. No more but in a Woman, and commanded By such poore passion,
as the Maid that Milkes, And doe's the meanest chares. It were for me,
To throw my Scepter at the iniurious Gods, To tell them that this World
did equall theyrs, Till they had stolne our Iewell. All's but naught:
Patience is sortish, and impatience does

Become a Dogge that's mad: Then is it sinne, To rush into the secret
house of death,

Ere death dare come to vs. How do you Women? What, what good cheere?
Why how now Charmian? My Noble Gyrles? Ah Women, women! Looke

Our Lampe is spent, it's out. Good sirs, take heart, Wee'l bury him:
And then, what's braue, what's Noble, Let's doo't after the high Roman
fashion, And make death proud to take vs. Come, away, This case of that
huge Spirit now is cold. Ah Women, Women! Come, we haue no Friend

But Resolution, and the breefest end.

Exeunt., bearing of Anthonies body.

Enter Caesar, Agrippa, Dollabella, Menas, with his Counsell of Warre.

Caesar. Go to him Dollabella, bid him yeeld, Being so frustrate, tell
him,

He mockes the pawses that he makes

Dol. Caesar, I shall.

Enter Decretas with the sword of Anthony.

Caes Wherefore is that? And what art thou that dar'st Appeare thus to
vs?

Dec. I am call'd Decretas,

Marke Anthony I seru'd, who best was worthie Best to be seru'd: whil'st
he stood vp, and spoke He was my Master, and I wore my life

To spend vpon his haters. If thou please

To take me to thee, as I was to him,

Ile be to Caesar: if y pleasest not, I yeild thee vp my life

Caesar. What is't thou say'st?

Dec. I say (Oh Caesar) Anthony is dead

Caesar. The breaking of so great a thing, should make A greater
cracke. The round World

Should haue shooke Lyons into ciuill streets, And Cittizens to their
dennes. The death of Anthony Is not a single doome, in the name lay

A moity of the world

Dec. He is dead Caesar,

Not by a publike minister of Iustice,

Nor by a hyred Knife, but that selfe-hand Which writ his Honor 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

Caes Looke you sad Friends,

The Gods rebuke me, but it is Tydings

To wash the eyes of Kings

Dol. And strange it is,

That Nature must compell vs to lament

Our most persisted deeds

Mec. His taints and Honours, wag'd equal with him

Dola. A Rarer spirit neuer

Did steere humanity: but you Gods will giue vs Some faults to make vs
men. Caesar is touch'd

Mec. When such a spacious Mirror's set before him, He needes must
see him selfe

Caesar. Oh Anthony,

I haue followed thee to this, but we do launch Diseases in our Bodies.
I must perforce

Haue shewne to thee such a declining day, Or looke on thine: we could
not stall together, In the whole world. But yet let me lament With
teares as Soueraigne as the blood of hearts, That thou my Brother, my
Competitor,

In top of all designe; my Mate in Empire, Friend and Companion in the
front of Warre, The Arme of mine owne Body, and the Heart Where mine
his thoughts did kindle; that our Starres Vnreconciliable, should
diuide our equalnesse to this. Heare me good Friends,

But I will tell you at some meeter Season, The businesse of this man
lookes out of him, Wee'l heare him what he sayes.

Enter an aegyptian.

Whence are you?

aegyp. A poore Egyptian yet, the Queen my mistris Confin'd in all,
she has her Monument

Of thy intents, desires, instruction,

That she preparedly may frame her selfe

To'th' way shee's forc'd too

Caesar. Bid her haue good heart,

She soone shall know of vs, by some of ours, How honourable, and how
kindely Wee

Determine for her. For Caesar cannot leaue to be vngentle   aegypt. So
the Gods preserue thee.

Enter.

Caes Come hither Proculeius. Go and say We purpose her no shame: giue
her what comforts The quality of her passion shall require; Least in
her greatnesse, by some mortall stroke She do defeate vs. For her life
in Rome,

Would be eternall in our Triumph: Go,

And with your speediest bring vs what she sayes, And how you finde of
her

Pro. Caesar I shall.

Exit Proculeius.

Caes Gallus, go you along: where's Dolabella, to second Proculeius?

All. Dolabella

Caes Let him alone: for I remember now How hee's imployd: he shall
in time be ready. Go with me to my Tent, where you shall see How hardly
I was drawne into this Warre,

How calme and gentle I proceeded still

In all my Writings. Go with me, and see

What I can shew in this.

Exeunt.

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian.

Cleo. My desolation does begin to make

A better life: Tis paltry to be Caesar:

Not being Fortune, hee's but Fortunes knaue, A minister of her will:
and it is great

To do that thing that ends all other deeds, Which shackles accedents,
and bolts vp change; Which sleepes, and neuer pallates more the dung,
The beggers Nurse, and Caesars.

Enter Proculeius.

Pro. Caesar sends greeting to the Queene of Egypt, And bids thee
study on what faire demands Thou mean'st to haue him grant thee

Cleo. What's thy name?

Pro. My name is Proculeius

Cleo. Anthony

Did tell me of you, bad me trust you, but I do not greatly care to be
deceiu'd

That haue no vse for trusting. If your Master Would haue a Queene his
begger, you must tell him, That Maiesty to keepe decorum, must

No lesse begge then a Kingdome: If he please To giue me conquer'd Egypt
for my Sonne,

He giues me so much of mine owne, as I

Will kneele to him with thankes

Pro. Be of good cheere:

Y'are falne into a Princely hand, feare nothing, Make your full
reference freely to my Lord, Who is so full of Grace, that it flowes
ouer On all that neede. Let me report to him

Your sweet dependancie, and you shall finde A Conqueror that will pray
in ayde for kindnesse, Where he for grace is kneel'd too

Cleo. Pray you tell him,

I am his Fortunes Vassall, and I send him The Greatnesse he has got. I
hourely learne A Doctrine of Obedience, and would gladly Looke him
i'th' Face

Pro. This Ile report (deere Lady)

Haue comfort, for I know your plight is pittied Of him that caus'd it

Pro. You see how easily she may be surpriz'd: Guard her till Caesar
come

Iras. Royall Queene

Char. Oh Cleopatra, thou art taken Queene

Cleo. Quicke, quicke, good hands

Pro. Hold worthy Lady, hold:

Doe not your selfe such wrong, who are in this Releeu'd, but not
betraid

Cleo. What of death too that rids our dogs of languish   Pro.
Cleopatra, do not abuse my Masters bounty, by Th' vndoing of your
selfe: Let the World see His Noblenesse well acted, which your death
Will neuer let come forth

Cleo. Where art thou Death?

Come hither come; Come, come, and take a Queene Worth many Babes and
Beggers

Pro. Oh temperance Lady

Cleo. Sir, I will eate no meate, Ile not drinke sir, If idle talke
will once be necessary

Ile not sleepe neither. This mortall house Ile ruine, Do Caesar what he
can. Know sir, that I

Will not waite pinnion'd at your Masters Court, Nor once be chastic'd
with the sober eye

Of dull Octauia. Shall they hoyst me vp,

And shew me to the showting Varlotarie

Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt. Be gentle graue vnto me,
rather on Nylus mudde Lay me starke-nak'd, and let the water-Flies Blow
me into abhorring; rather make

My Countries high pyramides my Gibbet,

And hang me vp in Chaines

Pro. You do extend

These thoughts of horror further then you shall Finde cause in Caesar.

Enter Dolabella.

Dol. Proculeius,

What thou hast done, thy Master Caesar knowes, And he hath sent for
thee: for the Queene, Ile take her to my Guard

Pro. So Dolabella,

It shall content me best: Be gentle to her, To Caesar I will speake,
what you shall please, If you'l imploy me to him.

Exit Proculeius

Cleo. Say, I would dye

Dol. Most Noble Empresse, you haue heard of me

Cleo. I cannot tell

Dol. Assuredly you know me

Cleo. No matter sir, what I haue heard or knowne: You laugh when
Boyes or Women tell their Dreames, Is't not your tricke?

Dol. I vnderstand not, Madam

Cleo. I dreampt there was an Emperor Anthony. Oh such another
sleepe, that I might see

But such another man

Dol. If it might please ye

Cleo. His face was as the Heau'ns, and therein stucke A Sunne and
Moone, which kept their course, & lighted The little o'th' earth

Dol. Most Soueraigne Creature

Cleo. His legges bestrid the Ocean, his rear'd arme Crested the
world: His voyce was propertied As all the tuned Spheres, and that to
Friends: But when he meant to quaile, and shake the Orbe, He was as
ratling Thunder. For his Bounty, There was no winter in't. An Anthony
it was, That grew the more by reaping: His delights Were Dolphin-like,
they shew'd his backe aboue The Element they liu'd in: In his Liuery

Walk'd Crownes and Crownets: Realms & Islands were As plates dropt from
his pocket

Dol. Cleopatra

Cleo. Thinke you there was, or might be such a man As this I dreampt
of?

Dol. Gentle Madam, no

Cleo. You Lye vp to the hearing of the Gods: But if there be, not
euer were one such

It's past the size of dreaming: Nature wants stuffe To vie strange
formes with fancie, yet t' imagine An Anthony were Natures peece,
'gainst Fancie, Condemning shadowes quite

Dol. Heare me, good Madam:

Your losse is as your selfe, great; and you beare it As answering to
the waight, would I might neuer Ore-take pursu'de successe: But I do
feele By the rebound of yours, a greefe that suites My very heart at
roote

Cleo. I thanke you sir:

Know you what Caesar meanes to do with me?   Dol. I am loath to tell
you what, I would you knew

Cleo. Nay pray you sir

Dol. Though he be Honourable

Cleo. Hee'l leade me then in Triumph

Dol. Madam he will, I know't.

Flourish.

Enter Proculeius, Caesar, Gallus, Mecenas, and others of his Traine.

All. Make way there Caesar

Caes Which is the Queene of Egypt

Dol. It is the Emperor Madam.

Cleo. kneeles.

Caesar. Arise, you shall not kneele:

I pray you rise, rise Egypt

Cleo. Sir, the Gods will haue it thus, My Master and my Lord I must
obey,

Caesar. Take to you no hard thoughts,

The Record of what iniuries you did vs,

Though written in our flesh, we shall remember As things but done by
chance

Cleo. Sole Sir o'th' World,

I cannot proiect mine owne cause so well

To make it cleare, but do confesse I haue Bene laden with like
frailties, which before Haue often sham'd our Sex

Caesar. Cleopatra know,

We will extenuate rather then inforce:

If you apply your selfe to our intents,

Which towards you are most gentle, you shall finde A benefit in this
change: but if you seeke To lay on me a Cruelty, by taking

Anthonies course, you shall bereaue your selfe Of my good purposes, and
put your children To that destruction which Ile guard them from, If
thereon you relye. Ile take my leaue

Cleo. And may through all the world: tis yours, & we your
Scutcheons, and your signes of Conquest shall Hang in what place you
please. Here my good Lord

Caesar. You shall aduise me in all for Cleopatra

Cleo. This is the breefe: of Money, Plate, & Iewels I am possest of,
'tis exactly valewed,

Not petty things admitted. Where's Seleucus?   Seleu. Heere Madam

Cleo. This is my Treasurer, let him speake (my Lord) Vpon his
perill, that I haue reseru'd

To my selfe nothing. Speake the truth Seleucus

Seleu. Madam, I had rather seele my lippes, Then to my perill speake
that which is not

Cleo. What haue I kept backe

Sel. Enough to purchase what you haue made known   Caesar. Nay blush
not Cleopatra, I approue Your Wisedome in the deede

Cleo. See Caesar: Oh behold,

How pompe is followed: Mine will now be yours, And should we shift
estates, yours would be mine. The ingratitude of this Seleucus, does

Euen make me wilde. Oh Slaue, of no more trust Then loue that's hyr'd?
What goest thou backe, y shalt Go backe I warrant thee: but Ile catch
thine eyes Though they had wings. Slaue, Soule-lesse, Villain, Dog. O
rarely base!

Caesar. Good Queene, let vs intreat you

Cleo. O Caesar, what a wounding shame is this, That thou vouchsafing
heere to visit me,

Doing the Honour of thy Lordlinesse

To one so meeke, that mine owne Seruant should Parcell the summe of my
disgraces, by

Addition of his Enuy. Say (good Caesar)

That I some Lady trifles haue reseru'd,

Immoment toyes, things of such Dignitie

As we greet moderne Friends withall, and say Some Nobler token I haue
kept apart

For Liuia and Octauia, to induce

Their mediation, must I be vnfolded

With one that I haue bred: The Gods! it smites me Beneath the fall I
haue. Prythee go hence, Or I shall shew the Cynders of my spirits
Through th' Ashes of my chance: Wer't thou a man, Thou would'st haue
mercy on me

Caesar. Forbeare Seleucus

Cleo. Be it known, that we the greatest are mis-thoght For things
that others do: and when we fall, We answer others merits, in our name

Are therefore to be pittied

Caesar. Cleopatra,

Not what you haue reseru'd, nor what acknowledg'd Put we i'th' Roll of
Conquest: still bee't yours, Bestow it at your pleasure, and beleeue

Caesars no Merchant, to make prize with you Of things that Merchants
sold. Therefore be cheer'd, Make not your thoughts your prisons: No
deere Queen, For we intend so to dispose you, as

Your selfe shall giue vs counsell: Feede, and sleepe: Our care and
pitty is so much vpon you,

That we remaine your Friend, and so adieu

Cleo. My Master, and my Lord

Caesar. Not so: Adieu.

Flourish. Exeunt Caesar, and his Traine.

Cleo. He words me Gyrles, he words me,

That I should not be Noble to my selfe.

But hearke thee Charmian

Iras. Finish good Lady, the bright day is done, And we are for the
darke

Cleo. Hye thee againe,

I haue spoke already, and it is prouided, Go put it to the haste

Char. Madam, I will.

Enter Dolabella.

Dol. Where's the Queene?

Char. Behold sir

Cleo. Dolabella

Dol. Madam, as thereto sworne, by your command (Which my loue makes
Religion to obey)

I tell you this: Caesar through Syria

Intends his iourney, and within three dayes, You with your Children
will he send before, Make your best vse of this. I haue perform'd Your
pleasure, and my promise

Cleo. Dolabella, I shall remaine your debter

Dol. I your Seruant:

Adieu good Queene, I must attend on Caesar.

Exit

Cleo. Farewell, and thankes.

Now Iras, what think'st thou?

Thou, an Egyptian Puppet shall be shewne

In Rome aswell as I: Mechanicke Slaues

With greazie Aprons, Rules, and Hammers shall Vplift vs to the view. In
their thicke breathes, Ranke of grosse dyet, shall we be enclowded, And
forc'd to drinke their vapour

Iras. The Gods forbid

Cleo. Nay, 'tis most certaine Iras: sawcie Lictors Will catch at vs
like Strumpets, and scald Rimers Ballads vs out a Tune. The quicke
Comedians Extemporally will stage vs, and present

Our Alexandrian Reuels: Anthony

Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see Some squeaking
Cleopatra Boy my greatnesse I'th' posture of a Whore

Iras. O the good Gods!

Cleo. Nay that's certaine

Iras. Ile neuer see't? for I am sure mine Nailes Are stronger then
mine eyes

Cleo. Why that's the way to foole their preparation, And to conquer
their most absurd intents. Enter Charmian.

Now Charmian.

Shew me my Women like a Queene: Go fetch

My best Attyres. I am againe for Cidrus,

To meete Marke Anthony. Sirra Iras, go

(Now Noble Charmian, wee'l dispatch indeede,) And when thou hast done
this chare, Ile giue thee leaue To play till Doomesday: bring our
Crowne, and all.

A noise within.

Wherefore's this noise?

Enter a Guardsman.

Gards. Heere is a rurall Fellow,

That will not be deny'de your Highnesse presence, He brings you Figges

Cleo. Let him come in.

Exit Guardsman.

What poore an Instrument

May do a Noble deede: he brings me liberty: My Resolution's plac'd, and
I haue nothing Of woman in me: Now from head to foote

I am Marble constant: now the fleeting Moone No Planet is of mine.

Enter Guardsman, and Clowne.

Guards. This is the man

Cleo. Auoid, and leaue him.

Exit Guardsman.

Hast thou the pretty worme of Nylus there, That killes and paines not?

Clow. Truly I haue him: but I would not be the partie that should
desire you to touch him, for his byting is immortall: those that doe
dye of it, doe seldome or neuer recouer

Cleo. Remember'st thou any that haue dyed on't?   Clow. Very many,
men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer then yesterday, a
very honest woman, but something giuen to lye, as a woman should not
do, but in the way of honesty, how she dyed of the byting of it, what
paine she felt: Truely, she makes a verie good report o'th' worme: but
he that wil beleeue all that they say, shall neuer be saued by halfe
that they do: but this is most falliable, the Worme's an odde Worme

Cleo. Get thee hence, farewell

Clow. I wish you all ioy of the Worme

Cleo. Farewell

Clow. You must thinke this (looke you,) that the Worme will do his
kinde

Cleo. I, I, farewell

Clow. Looke you, the Worme is not to bee trusted, but in the keeping
of wise people: for indeede, there is no goodnesse in the Worme

Cleo. Take thou no care, it shall be heeded

Clow. Very good: giue it nothing I pray you, for it is not worth the
feeding

Cleo. Will it eate me?

Clow. You must not think I am so simple, but I know the diuell
himselfe will not eate a woman: I know, that a woman is a dish for the
Gods, if the diuell dresse her not. But truly, these same whorson
diuels doe the Gods great harme in their women: for in euery tenne that
they make, the diuels marre fiue

Cleo. Well, get thee gone, farewell

Clow. Yes forsooth: I wish you ioy o'th' worm.

Exit

Cleo. Giue me my Robe, put on my Crowne, I haue Immortall longings in
me. Now no more

The iuyce of Egypts Grape shall moyst this lip. Yare, yare, good Iras;
quicke: Me thinkes I heare Anthony call: I see him rowse himselfe

To praise my Noble Act. I heare him mock

The lucke of Caesar, which the Gods giue men To excuse their after
wrath. Husband, I come: Now to that name, my Courage proue my Title. I
am Fire, and Ayre; my other Elements

I giue to baser life. So, haue you done?

Come then, and take the last warmth of my Lippes. Farewell kinde
Charmian, Iras, long farewell. Haue I the Aspicke in my lippes? Dost
fall? If thou, and Nature can so gently part,

The stroke of death is as a Louers pinch, Which hurts, and is desir'd.
Dost thou lye still? If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world, It
is not worth leaue-taking

Char. Dissolue thicke clowd, & Raine, that I may say The Gods
themselues do weepe

Cleo. This proues me base:

If she first meete the Curled Anthony,

Hee'l make demand of her, and spend that kisse Which is my heauen to
haue. Come thou mortal wretch, With thy sharpe teeth this knot
intrinsicate, Of life at once vntye: Poore venomous Foole, Be angry,
and dispatch. Oh could'st thou speake, That I might heare thee call
great Caesar Asse, vnpolicied

Char. Oh Easterne Starre

Cleo. Peace, peace:

Dost thou not see my Baby at my breast,

That suckes the Nurse asleepe

Char. O breake! O breake!

Cleo. As sweet as Balme, as soft as Ayre, as gentle. O Anthony! Nay I
will take thee too.

What should I stay-

Dyes.

Char. In this wilde World? So fare thee well: Now boast thee Death,
in thy possession lyes A Lasse vnparalell'd. Downie Windowes cloze, And
golden Phoebus, neuer be beheld

Of eyes againe so Royall: your Crownes away, Ile mend it, and then
play-

Enter the Guard rustling in; and Dolabella.

1.Guard. Where's the Queene?

Char. Speake softly, wake her not

1 Caesar hath sent

Char. Too slow a Messenger.

Oh come apace, dispatch, I partly feele thee

1 Approach hoa,

All's not well: Caesar's beguild

2 There's Dolabella sent from Caesar: call him

1 What worke is heere Charmian?

Is this well done?

Char. It is well done, and fitting for a Princesse Descended of so
many Royall Kings.

Ah Souldier.

Charmian dyes.

Enter Dolabella.

Dol. How goes it heere?

2.Guard. All dead

Dol. Caesar, thy thoughts

Touch their effects in this: Thy selfe art comming To see perform'd the
dreaded Act which thou So sought'st to hinder.

Enter Caesar and all his Traine, marching.

All. A way there, a way for Caesar

Dol. Oh sir, you are too sure an Augurer: That you did feare, is
done

Caesar. Brauest at the last,

She leuell'd at our purposes, and being Royall Tooke her owne way: the
manner of their deaths, I do not see them bleede

Dol. Who was last with them?

1.Guard. A simple Countryman, that broght hir Figs: This was his
Basket

Caesar. Poyson'd then

1.Guard. Oh Caesar:

This Charmian liu'd but now, she stood and spake: I found her trimming
vp the Diadem;

On her dead Mistris tremblingly she stood, And on the sodaine dropt

Caesar. Oh Noble weakenesse:

If they had swallow'd poyson, 'twould appeare By externall swelling:
but she lookes like sleepe, As she would catch another Anthony

In her strong toyle of Grace

Dol. Heere on her brest,

There is a vent of Bloud, and something blowne, The like is on her
Arme

1.Guard. This is an Aspickes traile,

And these Figge-leaues haue slime vpon them, such As th' Aspicke leaues
vpon the Caues of Nyle

Caesar. Most probable

That so she dyed: for her Physitian tels mee She hath pursu'de
Conclusions infinite

Of easie wayes to dye. Take vp her bed,

And beare her Women from the Monument,

She shall be buried by her Anthony.

No Graue vpon the earth shall clip in it

A payre so famous: high euents as these

Strike those that make them: and their Story is No lesse in pitty, then
his Glory which

Brought them to be lamented. Our Army shall In solemne shew, attend
this Funerall,

And then to Rome. Come Dolabella, see

High Order, in this great Solemnity.

Exeunt. omnes

FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF Anthonie, and Cleopatra.



The Tragedie of Cymbeline

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter two Gentlemen.

1.Gent. You do not meet a man but Frownes. Our bloods no more obey
the Heauens

Then our Courtiers:

Still seeme, as do's the Kings

2 Gent. But what's the matter?

1. His daughter, and the heire of's kingdome (whom He purpos'd to his
wiues sole Sonne, a Widdow That late he married) hath referr'd her
selfe Vnto a poore, but worthy Gentleman. She's wedded, Her Husband
banish'd; she imprison'd, all Is outward sorrow, though I thinke the
King Be touch'd at very heart

2 None but the King?

1 He that hath lost her too: so is the Queene, That most desir'd the
Match. But not a Courtier, Although they weare their faces to the bent
Of the Kings lookes, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they
scowle at

2 And why so?

1 He that hath miss'd the Princesse, is a thing Too bad, for bad
report: and he that hath her, (I meane, that married her, alacke good
man, And therefore banish'd) is a Creature, such, As to seeke through
the Regions of the Earth For one, his like; there would be something
failing In him, that should compare. I do not thinke, So faire an
Outward, and such stuffe Within Endowes a man, but hee

2 You speake him farre

1 I do extend him (Sir) within himselfe, Crush him together, rather
then vnfold

His measure duly

2 What's his name, and Birth?

1 I cannot delue him to the roote: His Father Was call'd Sicillius,
who did ioyne his Honor Against the Romanes, with Cassibulan,

But had his Titles by Tenantius, whom

He seru'd with Glory, and admir'd Successe: So gain'd the Sur-addition,
Leonatus.

And had (besides this Gentleman in question) Two other Sonnes, who in
the Warres o'th' time Dy'de with their Swords in hand. For which, their
Father Then old, and fond of yssue, tooke such sorrow That he quit
Being; and his gentle Lady

Bigge of this Gentleman (our Theame) deceast As he was borne. The King
he takes the Babe To his protection, cals him Posthumus Leonatus,
Breedes him, and makes him of his Bed-chamber, Puts to him all the
Learnings that his time Could make him the receiuer of, which he tooke
As we do ayre, fast as 'twas ministred,

And in's Spring, became a Haruest: Liu'd in Court (Which rare it is to
do) most prais'd, most lou'd, A sample to the yongest: to th' more
Mature, A glasse that feated them: and to the grauer, A Childe that
guided Dotards. To his Mistris, (For whom he now is banish'd) her owne
price Proclaimes how she esteem'd him; and his Vertue By her electio[n]
may be truly read, what kind of man he is

2 I honor him, euen out of your report. But pray you tell me, is she
sole childe to'th' King?   1 His onely childe:

He had two Sonnes (if this be worth your hearing, Marke it) the eldest
of them, at three yeares old I'th' swathing cloathes, the other from
their Nursery Were stolne, and to this houre, no ghesse in knowledge
Which way they went

2 How long is this ago?

1 Some twenty yeares

2 That a Kings Children should be so conuey'd, So slackely guarded,
and the search so slow That could not trace them

1 Howsoere, 'tis strange,

Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at: Yet is it true Sir

2 I do well beleeue you

1 We must forbeare. Heere comes the Gentleman, The Queene, and
Princesse.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter the Queene, Posthumus, and Imogen.

Qu. No, be assur'd you shall not finde me (Daughter) After the
slander of most Step-Mothers,

Euill-ey'd vnto you. You're my Prisoner, but Your Gaoler shall deliuer
you the keyes

That locke vp your restraint. For you Posthumus, So soone as I can win
th' offended King,

I will be knowne your Aduocate: marry yet The fire of Rage is in him,
and 'twere good You lean'd vnto his Sentence, with what patience Your
wisedome may informe you

Post. 'Please your Highnesse,

I will from hence to day

Qu. You know the perill:

Ile fetch a turne about the Garden, pittying The pangs of barr'd
Affections, though the King Hath charg'd you should not speake
together.

Exit

Imo. O dissembling Curtesie! How fine this Tyrant Can tickle where
she wounds? My deerest Husband, I something feare my Fathers wrath, but
nothing (Alwayes reseru'd my holy duty) what

His rage can do on me. You must be gone,

And I shall heere abide the hourely shot

Of angry eyes: not comforted to liue,

But that there is this Iewell in the world, That I may see againe

Post. My Queene, my Mistris:

O Lady, weepe no more, least I giue cause To be suspected of more
tendernesse

Then doth become a man. I will remaine

The loyall'st husband, that did ere plight troth. My residence in Rome,
at one Filorio's,

Who, to my Father was a Friend, to me

Knowne but by Letter; thither write (my Queene) And with mine eyes, Ile
drinke the words you send, Though Inke be made of Gall.

Enter Queene.

Qu. Be briefe, I pray you:

If the King come, I shall incurre, I know not How much of his
displeasure: yet Ile moue him To walke this way: I neuer do him wrong,

But he do's buy my Iniuries, to be Friends: Payes deere for my
offences

Post. Should we be taking leaue

As long a terme as yet we haue to liue,

The loathnesse to depart, would grow: Adieu

Imo. Nay, stay a little:

Were you but riding forth to ayre your selfe, Such parting were too
petty. Looke heere (Loue) This Diamond was my Mothers; take it (Heart)
But keepe it till you woo another Wife,

When Imogen is dead

Post. How, how? Another?

You gentle Gods, giue me but this I haue, And seare vp my embracements
from a next, With bonds of death. Remaine, remaine thou heere, While
sense can keepe it on: And sweetest, fairest, As I (my poore selfe) did
exchange for you To your so infinite losse; so in our trifles I still
winne of you. For my sake weare this, It is a Manacle of Loue, Ile
place it

Vpon this fayrest Prisoner

Imo. O the Gods!

When shall we see againe?

Enter Cymbeline, and Lords.

Post. Alacke, the King

Cym. Thou basest thing, auoyd hence, from my sight: If after this
command thou fraught the Court With thy vnworthinesse, thou dyest.
Away, Thou'rt poyson to my blood

Post. The Gods protect you,

And blesse the good Remainders of the Court: I am gone

Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death

More sharpe then this is

Cym. O disloyall thing,

That should'st repayre my youth, thou heap'st A yeares age on mee

Imo. I beseech you Sir,

Harme not your selfe with your vexation,

I am senselesse of your Wrath; a Touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all
feares

Cym. Past Grace? Obedience?

Imo. Past hope, and in dispaire, that way past Grace

Cym. That might'st haue had

The sole Sonne of my Queene

Imo. O blessed, that I might not: I chose an Eagle, And did auoyd a
Puttocke

Cym. Thou took'st a Begger, would'st haue made my Throne, a Seate
for basenesse

Imo. No, I rather added a lustre to it

Cym. O thou vilde one!

Imo. Sir,

It is your fault that I haue lou'd Posthumus: You bred him as my
Play-fellow, and he is A man, worth any woman: Ouer-buyes mee

Almost the summe he payes

Cym. What? art thou mad?

Imo. Almost Sir: Heauen restore me: would I were A Neat-heards
Daughter, and my Leonatus

Our Neighbour-Shepheards Sonne.

Enter Queene.

Cym. Thou foolish thing;

They were againe together: you haue done

Not after our command. Away with her,

And pen her vp

Qu. Beseech your patience: Peace

Deere Lady daughter, peace. Sweet Soueraigne, Leaue vs to our selues,
and make your self some comfort Out of your best aduice

Cym. Nay, let her languish

A drop of blood a day, and being aged

Dye of this Folly.

Enter.

Enter Pisanio.

Qu. Fye, you must giue way:

Heere is your Seruant. How now Sir? What newes?   Pisa. My Lord your
Sonne, drew on my Master

Qu. Hah?

No harme I trust is done?

Pisa. There might haue beene,

But that my Master rather plaid, then fought, And had no helpe of
Anger: they were parted By Gentlemen, at hand

Qu. I am very glad on't

Imo. Your Son's my Fathers friend, he takes his part To draw vpon an
Exile. O braue Sir,

I would they were in Affricke both together, My selfe by with a Needle,
that I might pricke The goer backe. Why came you from your Master?
Pisa. On his command: he would not suffer mee To bring him to the
Hauen: left these Notes Of what commands I should be subiect too,
When't pleas'd you to employ me

Qu. This hath beene

Your faithfull Seruant: I dare lay mine Honour He will remaine so

Pisa. I humbly thanke your Highnesse

Qu. Pray walke a-while

Imo. About some halfe houre hence,

Pray you speake with me;

You shall (at least) go see my Lord aboord. For this time leaue me.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Clotten, and two Lords.

1. Sir, I would aduise you to shift a Shirt; the Violence of Action
hath made you reek as a Sacrifice: where ayre comes out, ayre comes in:
There's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent

Clot. If my Shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Haue I hurt him?

2 No faith: not so much as his patience

1 Hurt him? His bodie's a passable Carkasse if he bee not hurt. It
is a through-fare for Steele if it be not hurt

2 His Steele was in debt, it went o'th' Backe-side the Towne

Clot. The Villaine would not stand me

2 No, but he fled forward still, toward your face

1 Stand you? you haue Land enough of your owne: But he added to your
hauing, gaue you some ground

2 As many Inches, as you haue Oceans (Puppies.)

Clot. I would they had not come betweene vs

2 So would I, till you had measur'd how long a Foole you were vpon
the ground

Clot. And that shee should loue this Fellow, and refuse mee

2 If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damn'd

1 Sir, as I told you alwayes: her Beauty & her Braine go not
together. Shee's a good signe, but I haue seene small reflection of her
wit

2 She shines not vpon Fooles, least the reflection Should hurt her

Clot. Come, Ile to my Chamber: would there had beene some hurt done

2 I wish not so, vnlesse it had bin the fall of an Asse, which is no
great hurt

Clot. You'l go with vs?

1 Ile attend your Lordship

Clot. Nay come, let's go together

2 Well my Lord.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Imogen, and Pisanio.

Imo. I would thou grew'st vnto the shores o'th' Hauen, And
questioned'st euery Saile: if he should write, And I not haue it,
'twere a Paper lost

As offer'd mercy is: What was the last

That he spake to thee?

Pisa. It was his Queene, his Queene

Imo. Then wau'd his Handkerchiefe?

Pisa. And kist it, Madam

Imo. Senselesse Linnen, happier therein then I: And that was all?

Pisa. No Madam: for so long

As he could make me with his eye, or eare, Distinguish him from others,
he did keepe The Decke, with Gloue, or Hat, or Handkerchife, Still
wauing, as the fits and stirres of's mind Could best expresse how slow
his Soule sayl'd on, How swift his Ship

Imo. Thou should'st haue made him

As little as a Crow, or lesse, ere left

To after-eye him

Pisa. Madam, so I did

Imo. I would haue broke mine eye-strings; Crack'd them, but to looke
vpon him, till the diminution Of space, had pointed him sharpe as my
Needle: Nay, followed him, till he had melted from The smalnesse of a
Gnat, to ayre: and then Haue turn'd mine eye, and wept. But good
Pisanio, When shall we heare from him

Pisa. Be assur'd Madam,

With his next vantage

Imo. I did not take my leaue of him, but had Most pretty things to
say: Ere I could tell him How I would thinke on him at certaine houres,
Such thoughts, and such: Or I could make him sweare, The Shees of Italy
should not betray

Mine Interest, and his Honour: or haue charg'd him At the sixt houre of
Morne, at Noone, at Midnight, T' encounter me with Orisons, for then

I am in Heauen for him: Or ere I could,

Giue him that parting kisse, which I had set Betwixt two charming
words, comes in my Father, And like the Tyrannous breathing of the
North, Shakes all our buddes from growing.

Enter a Lady.

La. The Queene (Madam)

Desires your Highnesse Company

Imo. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd, I will attend
the Queene

Pisa. Madam, I shall.

Exeunt.



Scena Quinta.

Enter Philario, Iachimo: a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard.

Iach. Beleeue it Sir, I haue seene him in Britaine; hee was then of a
Cressent note, expected to proue so woorthy, as since he hath beene
allowed the name of. But I could then haue look'd on him, without the
help of Admiration, though the Catalogue of his endowments had bin
tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by Items

Phil. You speake of him when he was lesse furnish'd, then now hee
is, with that which makes him both without, and within

French. I haue seene him in France: wee had very many there, could
behold the Sunne, with as firme eyes as hee

Iach. This matter of marrying his Kings Daughter, wherein he must be
weighed rather by her valew, then his owne, words him (I doubt not) a
great deale from the matter

French. And then his banishment

Iach. I, and the approbation of those that weepe this lamentable
diuorce vnder her colours, are wonderfully to extend him, be it but to
fortifie her iudgement, which else an easie battery might lay flat, for
taking a Begger without lesse quality. But how comes it, he is to
soiourne with you? How creepes acquaintance?

Phil. His Father and I were Souldiers together, to whom I haue bin
often bound for no lesse then my life. Enter Posthumus.

Heere comes the Britaine. Let him be so entertained among'st you, as
suites with Gentlemen of your knowing, to a Stranger of his quality. I
beseech you all be better knowne to this Gentleman, whom I commend to
you, as a Noble Friend of mine. How Worthy he is, I will leaue to
appeare hereafter, rather then story him in his owne hearing

French. Sir, we haue knowne togither in Orleance

Post. Since when, I haue bin debtor to you for courtesies, which I
will be euer to pay, and yet pay still

French. Sir, you o're-rate my poore kindnesse, I was glad I did
attone my Countryman and you: it had beene pitty you should haue beene
put together, with so mortall a purpose, as then each bore, vpon
importance of so slight and triuiall a nature

Post. By your pardon Sir, I was then a young Traueller, rather
shun'd to go euen with what I heard, then in my euery action to be
guided by others experiences: but vpon my mended iudgement (if I offend
to say it is mended) my Quarrell was not altogether slight

French. Faith yes, to be put to the arbiterment of Swords, and by
such two, that would by all likelyhood haue confounded one the other,
or haue falne both

Iach. Can we with manners, aske what was the difference?   French.
Safely, I thinke, 'twas a contention in publicke, which may (without
contradiction) suffer the report. It was much like an argument that
fell out last night, where each of vs fell in praise of our
Country-Mistresses. This Gentleman, at that time vouching (and vpon
warrant of bloody affirmation) his to be more Faire, Vertuous, Wise,
Chaste, Constant, Qualified, and lesse attemptible then any, the rarest
of our Ladies in Fraunce

Iach. That Lady is not now liuing; or this Gentlemans opinion by
this, worne out

Post. She holds her Vertue still, and I my mind

Iach. You must not so farre preferre her, 'fore ours of Italy

Posth. Being so farre prouok'd as I was in France: I would abate her
nothing, though I professe my selfe her Adorer, not her Friend

Iach. As faire, and as good: a kind of hand in hand comparison, had
beene something too faire, and too good for any Lady in Britanie; if
she went before others. I haue seene as that Diamond of yours
out-lusters many I haue beheld, I could not beleeue she excelled many:
but I haue not seene the most pretious Diamond that is, nor you the
Lady

Post. I prais'd her, as I rated her: so do I my Stone

Iach. What do you esteeme it at?

Post. More then the world enioyes

Iach. Either your vnparagon'd Mistris is dead, or she's out-priz'd
by a trifle

Post. You are mistaken: the one may be solde or giuen, or if there
were wealth enough for the purchases, or merite for the guift. The
other is not a thing for sale, and onely the guift of the Gods

Iach. Which the Gods haue giuen you?

Post. Which by their Graces I will keepe

Iach. You may weare her in title yours: but you know strange Fowle
light vpon neighbouring Ponds. Your Ring may be stolne too, so your
brace of vnprizeable Estimations, the one is but fraile, and the other
Casuall; A cunning Thiefe, or a (that way) accomplish'd Courtier, would
hazzard the winning both of first and last

Post. Your Italy, containes none so accomplish'd a Courtier to
conuince the Honour of my Mistris: if in the holding or losse of that,
you terme her fraile, I do nothing doubt you haue store of Theeues,
notwithstanding I feare not my Ring

Phil. Let vs leaue heere, Gentlemen?

Post. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy Signior I thanke him, makes
no stranger of me, we are familiar at first

Iach. With fiue times so much conuersation, I should get ground of
your faire Mistris; make her go backe, euen to the yeilding, had I
admittance, and opportunitie to friend

Post. No, no

Iach. I dare thereupon pawne the moytie of my Estate, to your Ring,
which in my opinion o're-values it something: but I make my wager
rather against your Confidence, then her Reputation. And to barre your
offence heerein to, I durst attempt it against any Lady in the world

Post. You are a great deale abus'd in too bold a perswasion, and I
doubt not you sustaine what y'are worthy of, by your Attempt

Iach. What's that?

Posth. A Repulse though your Attempt (as you call it) deserue more; a
punishment too

Phi. Gentlemen enough of this, it came in too sodainely, let it dye
as it was borne, and I pray you be better acquainted

Iach. Would I had put my Estate, and my Neighbors on th' approbation
of what I haue spoke

Post. What Lady would you chuse to assaile?   Iach. Yours, whom in
constancie you thinke stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousands
Duckets to your Ring, that commend me to the Court where your Lady is,
with no more aduantage then the opportunitie of a second conference,
and I will bring from thence, that Honor of hers, which you imagine so
reseru'd

Posthmus. I will wage against your Gold, Gold to it: My Ring I holde
deere as my finger, 'tis part of it

Iach. You are a Friend, and there in the wiser: if you buy Ladies
flesh at a Million a Dram, you cannot preserue it from tainting; but I
see you haue some Religion in you, that you feare

Posthu. This is but a custome in your tongue: you beare a grauer
purpose I hope

Iach. I am the Master of my speeches, and would vnder-go what's
spoken, I sweare

Posthu. Will you? I shall but lend my Diamond till your returne: let
there be Couenants drawne between's. My Mistris exceedes in goodnesse,
the hugenesse of your vnworthy thinking. I dare you to this match:
heere's my Ring

Phil. I will haue it no lay

Iach. By the Gods it is one: if I bring you no sufficient testimony
that I haue enioy'd the deerest bodily part of your Mistris: my ten
thousand Duckets are yours, so is your Diamond too: if I come off, and
leaue her in such honour as you haue trust in; Shee your Iewell, this
your Iewell, and my Gold are yours: prouided, I haue your commendation,
for my more free entertainment

Post. I embrace these Conditions, let vs haue Articles betwixt vs:
onely thus farre you shall answere, if you make your voyage vpon her,
and giue me directly to vnderstand, you haue preuayl'd, I am no further
your Enemy, shee is not worth our debate. If shee remaine vnseduc'd,
you not making it appeare otherwise: for your ill opinion, and th'
assault you haue made to her chastity, you shall answer me with your
Sword

Iach. Your hand, a Couenant: wee will haue these things set downe by
lawfull Counsell, and straight away for Britaine, least the Bargaine
should catch colde, and sterue: I will fetch my Gold, and haue our two
Wagers recorded

Post. Agreed

French. Will this hold, thinke you

Phil. Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray let vs follow 'em.

Exeunt.

Scena Sexta.

Enter Queene, Ladies, and Cornelius.

Qu. Whiles yet the dewe's on ground,

Gather those Flowers,

Make haste. Who ha's the note of them?

Lady. I Madam

Queen. Dispatch.

Exit Ladies.

Now Master Doctor, haue you brought those drugges?   Cor. Pleaseth your
Highnes, I: here they are, Madam: But I beseech your Grace, without
offence (My Conscience bids me aske) wherefore you haue Commanded of me
these most poysonous Compounds, Which are the moouers of a languishing
death: But though slow, deadly

Qu. I wonder, Doctor,

Thou ask'st me such a Question: Haue I not bene Thy Pupill long? Hast
thou not learn'd me how To make Perfumes? Distill? Preserue? Yea so,
That our great King himselfe doth woo me oft For my Confections? Hauing
thus farre proceeded, (Vnlesse thou think'st me diuellish) is't not
meete That I did amplifie my iudgement in

Other Conclusions? I will try the forces

Of these thy Compounds, on such Creatures as We count not worth the
hanging (but none humane) To try the vigour of them, and apply

Allayments to their Act, and by them gather Their seuerall vertues, and
effects

Cor. Your Highnesse

Shall from this practise, but make hard your heart: Besides, the seeing
these effects will be Both noysome, and infectious

Qu. O content thee.

Enter Pisanio.

Heere comes a flattering Rascall, vpon him Will I first worke: Hee's
for his Master, And enemy to my Sonne. How now Pisanio?

Doctor, your seruice for this time is ended, Take your owne way

Cor. I do suspect you, Madam,

But you shall do no harme

Qu. Hearke thee, a word

Cor. I do not like her. She doth thinke she ha's Strange ling'ring
poysons: I do know her spirit, And will not trust one of her malice,
with A drugge of such damn'd Nature. Those she ha's, Will stupifie and
dull the Sense a-while, Which first (perchance) shee'l proue on Cats
and Dogs, Then afterward vp higher: but there is

No danger in what shew of death it makes, More then the locking vp the
Spirits a time, To be more fresh, reuiuing. She is fool'd With a most
false effect: and I, the truer, So to be false with her

Qu. No further seruice, Doctor,

Vntill I send for thee

Cor. I humbly take my leaue.

Enter.

Qu. Weepes she still (saist thou?)

Dost thou thinke in time

She will not quench, and let instructions enter Where Folly now
possesses? Do thou worke: When thou shalt bring me word she loues my
Sonne, Ile tell thee on the instant, thou art then As great as is thy
Master: Greater, for

His Fortunes all lye speechlesse, and his name Is at last gaspe.
Returne he cannot, nor

Continue where he is: To shift his being, Is to exchange one misery
with another,

And euery day that comes, comes to decay

A dayes worke in him. What shalt thou expect To be depender on a thing
that leanes?

Who cannot be new built, nor ha's no Friends So much, as but to prop
him? Thou tak'st vp Thou know'st not what: But take it for thy labour,
It is a thing I made, which hath the King Fiue times redeem'd from
death. I do not know What is more Cordiall. Nay, I prythee take it, It
is an earnest of a farther good

That I meane to thee. Tell thy Mistris how The case stands with her:
doo't, as from thy selfe; Thinke what a chance thou changest on, but
thinke Thou hast thy Mistris still, to boote, my Sonne, Who shall take
notice of thee. Ile moue the King To any shape of thy Preferment, such

As thou'lt desire: and then my selfe, I cheefely, That set thee on to
this desert, am bound To loade thy merit richly. Call my women.

Exit Pisa.

Thinke on my words. A slye, and constant knaue, Not to be shak'd: the
Agent for his Master, And the Remembrancer of her, to hold

The hand-fast to her Lord. I haue giuen him that, Which if he take,
shall quite vnpeople her Of Leidgers for her Sweete: and which, she
after Except she bend her humor, shall be assur'd To taste of too.

Enter Pisanio, and Ladies.

So, so: Well done, well done:

The Violets, Cowslippes, and the Prime-Roses Beare to my Closset: Fare
thee well, Pisanio. Thinke on my words.

Exit Qu. and Ladies

Pisa. And shall do:

But when to my good Lord, I proue vntrue, Ile choake my selfe: there's
all Ile do for you. Enter.



Scena Septima.

Enter Imogen alone.

Imo. A Father cruell, and a Stepdame false, A Foolish Suitor to a
Wedded-Lady,

That hath her Husband banish'd: O, that Husband, My supreame Crowne of
griefe, and those repeated Vexations of it. Had I bin Theefe-stolne, As
my two Brothers, happy: but most miserable Is the desires that's
glorious. Blessed be those How meane so ere, that haue their honest
wills, Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fye. Enter Pisanio, and
Iachimo.

Pisa. Madam, a Noble Gentleman of Rome, Comes from my Lord with
Letters

Iach. Change you, Madam:

The Worthy Leonatus is in safety,

And greetes your Highnesse deerely

Imo. Thanks good Sir,

You're kindly welcome

Iach. All of her, that is out of doore, most rich: If she be
furnish'd with a mind so rare

She is alone th' Arabian-Bird; and I

Haue lost the wager. Boldnesse be my Friend: Arme me Audacitie from
head to foote,

Or like the Parthian I shall flying fight, Rather directly fly

Imogen reads. He is one of the Noblest note, to whose kindnesses I
am

most infinitely

tied. Reflect vpon him accordingly, as you value your trust. Leonatus.

So farre I reade aloud.

But euen the very middle of my heart

Is warm'd by'th' rest, and take it thankefully. You are as welcome
(worthy Sir) as I

Haue words to bid you, and shall finde it so In all that I can do

Iach. Thankes fairest Lady:

What are men mad? Hath Nature giuen them eyes To see this vaulted Arch,
and the rich Crop Of Sea and Land, which can distinguish 'twixt The
firie Orbes aboue, and the twinn'd Stones Vpon the number'd Beach, and
can we not

Partition make with Spectacles so pretious Twixt faire, and foule?

Imo. What makes your admiration?

Iach. It cannot be i'th' eye: for Apes, and Monkeys 'Twixt two such
She's, would chatter this way, and Contemne with mowes the other. Nor
i'th' iudgment: For Idiots in this case of fauour, would

Be wisely definit: Nor i'th' Appetite.

Sluttery to such neate Excellence, oppos'd Should make desire vomit
emptinesse,

Not so allur'd to feed

Imo. What is the matter trow?

Iach. The Cloyed will:

That satiate yet vnsatisfi'd desire, that Tub Both fill'd and running:
Rauening first the Lambe, Longs after for the Garbage

Imo. What, deere Sir,

Thus rap's you? Are you well?

Iach. Thanks Madam well: Beseech you Sir, Desire my Man's abode,
where I did leaue him: He's strange and peeuish

Pisa. I was going Sir,

To giue him welcome.

Enter.

Imo. Continues well my Lord?

His health beseech you?

Iach. Well, Madam

Imo. Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope he is

Iach. Exceeding pleasant: none a stranger there, So merry, and so
gamesome: he is call'd

The Britaine Reueller

Imo. When he was heere

He did incline to sadnesse, and oft times Not knowing why

Iach. I neuer saw him sad.

There is a Frenchman his Companion, one

An eminent Monsieur, that it seemes much loues A Gallian-Girle at home.
He furnaces

The thicke sighes from him; whiles the iolly Britaine, (Your Lord I
meane) laughes from's free lungs: cries oh, Can my sides hold, to think
that man who knowes By History, Report, or his owne proofe

What woman is, yea what she cannot choose But must be: will's free
houres languish: For assured bondage?

Imo. Will my Lord say so?

Iach. I Madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter, It is a
Recreation to be by

And heare him mocke the Frenchman:

But Heauen's know some men are much too blame

Imo. Not he I hope

Iach. Not he:

But yet Heauen's bounty towards him, might Be vs'd more thankfully. In
himselfe 'tis much; In you, which I account his beyond all Talents.
Whil'st I am bound to wonder, I am bound

To pitty too

Imo. What do you pitty Sir?

Iach. Two Creatures heartyly

Imo. Am I one Sir?

You looke on me: what wrack discerne you in me Deserues your pitty?

Iach. Lamentable: what

To hide me from the radiant Sun, and solace I'th' Dungeon by a Snuffe

Imo. I pray you Sir,

Deliuer with more opennesse your answeres To my demands. Why do you
pitty me?

Iach. That others do,

(I was about to say) enioy your- but

It is an office of the Gods to venge it,

Not mine to speake on't

Imo. You do seeme to know

Something of me, or what concernes me; pray you Since doubting things
go ill, often hurts more Then to be sure they do. For Certainties

Either are past remedies; or timely knowing, The remedy then borne.
Discouer to me

What both you spur and stop

Iach. Had I this cheeke

To bathe my lips vpon: this hand, whose touch, (Whose euery touch)
would force the Feelers soule To'th' oath of loyalty. This obiect,
which Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, Fiering it onely
heere, should I (damn'd then) Slauuer with lippes as common as the
stayres That mount the Capitoll: Ioyne gripes, with hands Made hard
with hourely falshood (falshood as With labour:) then by peeping in an
eye

Base and illustrious as the smoakie light That's fed with stinking
Tallow: it were fit That all the plagues of Hell should at one time
Encounter such reuolt

Imo. My Lord, I feare

Has forgot Brittaine

Iach. And himselfe, not I

Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce

The Beggery of his change: but 'tis your Graces That from my mutest
Conscience, to my tongue, Charmes this report out

Imo. Let me heare no more

Iach. O deerest Soule: your Cause doth strike my hart With pitty,
that doth make me sicke. A Lady So faire, and fasten'd to an Emperie

Would make the great'st King double, to be partner'd With Tomboyes
hyr'd, with that selfe exhibition Which your owne Coffers yeeld: with
diseas'd ventures That play with all Infirmities for Gold,

Which rottennesse can lend Nature. Such boyl'd stuffe As well might
poyson Poyson. Be reueng'd, Or she that bore you, was no Queene, and
you Recoyle from your great Stocke

Imo. Reueng'd:

How should I be reueng'd? If this be true, (As I haue such a Heart,
that both mine eares Must not in haste abuse) if it be true,

How should I be reueng'd?

Iach. Should he make me

Liue like Diana's Priest, betwixt cold sheets, Whiles he is vaulting
variable Rampes

In your despight, vpon your purse: reuenge it. I dedicate my selfe to
your sweet pleasure, More Noble then that runnagate to your bed, And
will continue fast to your Affection, Still close, as sure

Imo. What hoa, Pisanio?

Iach. Let me my seruice tender on your lippes

Imo. Away, I do condemne mine eares, that haue So long attended
thee. If thou wert Honourable Thou would'st haue told this tale for
Vertue, not For such an end thou seek'st, as base, as strange: Thou
wrong'st a Gentleman, who is as farre From thy report, as thou from
Honor: and

Solicites heere a Lady, that disdaines

Thee, and the Diuell alike. What hoa, Pisanio? The King my Father shall
be made acquainted Of thy Assault: if he shall thinke it fit, A sawcy
Stranger in his Court, to Mart

As in a Romish Stew, and to expound

His beastly minde to vs; he hath a Court

He little cares for, and a Daughter, who

He not respects at all. What hoa, Pisanio?   Iach. O happy Leonatus I
may say,

The credit that thy Lady hath of thee

Deserues thy trust, and thy most perfect goodnesse Her assur'd credit.
Blessed liue you long, A Lady to the worthiest Sir, that euer

Country call'd his; and you his Mistris, onely For the most worthiest
fit. Giue me your pardon, I haue spoke this to know if your Affiance
Were deeply rooted, and shall make your Lord, That which he is, new
o're: And he is one The truest manner'd: such a holy Witch,

That he enchants Societies into him:

Halfe all men hearts are his

Imo. You make amends

Iach. He sits 'mongst men, like a defended God; He hath a kinde of
Honor sets him off,

More then a mortall seeming. Be not angrie (Most mighty Princesse) that
I haue aduentur'd To try your taking of a false report, which hath
Honour'd with confirmation your great Iudgement, In the election of a
Sir, so rare,

Which you know, cannot erre. The loue I beare him, Made me to fan you
thus, but the Gods made you (Vnlike all others) chaffelesse. Pray your
pardon

Imo. All's well Sir:

Take my powre i'th' Court for yours

Iach. My humble thankes: I had almost forgot T' intreat your Grace,
but in a small request, And yet of moment too, for it concernes:

Your Lord, my selfe, and other Noble Friends Are partners in the
businesse

Imo. Pray what is't?

Iach. Some dozen Romanes of vs, and your Lord (The best Feather of
our wing) haue mingled summes To buy a Present for the Emperor:

Which I (the Factor for the rest) haue done In France: 'tis Plate of
rare deuice, and Iewels Of rich, and exquisite forme, their valewes
great, And I am something curious, being strange To haue them in safe
stowage: May it please you To take them in protection

Imo. Willingly:

And pawne mine Honor for their safety, since My Lord hath interest in
them, I will keepe them In my Bed-chamber

Iach. They are in a Trunke

Attended by my men: I will make bold

To send them to you, onely for this night: I must aboord to morrow

Imo. O no, no

Iach. Yes I beseech: or I shall short my word By length'ning my
returne. From Gallia,

I crost the Seas on purpose, and on promise To see your Grace

Imo. I thanke you for your paines:

But not away to morrow

Iach. O I must Madam.

Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please To greet your Lord with
writing, doo't to night, I haue out-stood my time, which is materiall
To'th' tender of our Present

Imo. I will write:

Send your Trunke to me, it shall safe be kept, And truely yeelded you:
you're very welcome.

Exeunt.



Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Clotten, and the two Lords.

Clot. Was there euer man had such lucke? when I kist the Iacke vpon
an vp-cast, to be hit away? I had a hundred pound on't: and then a
whorson Iacke-an-Apes, must take me vp for swearing, as if I borrowed
mine oathes of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure

1. What got he by that? you haue broke his pate with your Bowle

2. If his wit had bin like him that broke it: it would haue run all
out

Clot. When a Gentleman is dispos'd to sweare: it is not for any
standers by to curtall his oathes. Ha?   2. No my Lord; nor crop the
eares of them

Clot. Whorson dog: I gaue him satisfaction? would he had bin one of
my Ranke

2. To haue smell'd like a Foole

Clot. I am not vext more at any thing in th' earth: a pox on't I had
rather not be so Noble as I am: they dare not fight with me, because of
the Queene my Mother: euery Iacke-Slaue hath his belly full of
Fighting, and I must go vp and downe like a Cock, that no body can
match

2. You are Cocke and Capon too, and you crow Cock, with your combe
on

Clot. Sayest thou?

2. It is not fit your Lordship should vndertake euery Companion, that
you giue offence too

Clot. No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit offence to my
inferiors

2. I, it is fit for your Lordship onely

Clot. Why so I say

1. Did you heere of a Stranger that's come to Court night?

Clot. A Stranger, and I not know on't?

2. He's a strange Fellow himselfe, and knowes it not

1. There's an Italian come, and 'tis thought one of Leonatus
Friends

Clot. Leonatus? A banisht Rascall; and he's another, whatsoeuer he
be. Who told you of this Stranger?   1. One of your Lordships Pages

Clot. Is it fit I went to looke vpon him? Is there no derogation
in't?

2. You cannot derogate my Lord

Clot. Not easily I thinke

2. You are a Foole graunted, therefore your Issues being foolish do
not derogate

Clot. Come, Ile go see this Italian: what I haue lost to day at
Bowles, Ile winne to night of him. Come: go

2. Ile attend your Lordship.

Enter.

That such a craftie Diuell as is his Mother Should yeild the world this
Asse: A woman, that Beares all downe with her Braine, and this her
Sonne, Cannot take two from twenty for his heart, And leaue eighteene.
Alas poore Princesse, Thou diuine Imogen, what thou endur'st,

Betwixt a Father by thy Step-dame gouern'd, A Mother hourely coyning
plots: A Wooer,

More hatefull then the foule expulsion is Of thy deere Husband. Then
that horrid Act Of the diuorce, heel'd make the Heauens hold firme The
walls of thy deere Honour. Keepe vnshak'd That Temple thy faire mind,
that thou maist stand T' enioy thy banish'd Lord: and this great Land.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Imogen, in her Bed, and a Lady.

Imo. Who's there? My woman: Helene?

La. Please you Madam

Imo. What houre is it?

Lady. Almost midnight, Madam

Imo. I haue read three houres then:

Mine eyes are weake,

Fold downe the leafe where I haue left: to bed. Take not away the
Taper, leaue it burning: And if thou canst awake by foure o'th' clock,
I prythee call me: Sleepe hath ceiz'd me wholly. To your protection I
commend me, Gods,

From Fayries, and the Tempters of the night, Guard me beseech yee.

Sleepes.

Iachimo from the Trunke.

Iach. The Crickets sing, and mans ore-labor'd sense Repaires it selfe
by rest: Our Tarquine thus Did softly presse the Rushes, ere he waken'd
The Chastitie he wounded. Cytherea,

How brauely thou becom'st thy Bed; fresh Lilly, And whiter then the
Sheetes: that I might touch, But kisse, one kisse. Rubies vnparagon'd,
How deerely they doo't: 'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the Chamber
thus: the Flame o'th' Taper Bowes toward her, and would vnder-peepe her
lids. To see th' inclosed Lights, now Canopied

Vnder these windowes, White and Azure lac'd With Blew of Heauens owne
tinct. But my designe. To note the Chamber, I will write all downe,
Such, and such pictures: There the window, such Th' adornement of her
Bed; the Arras, Figures, Why such, and such: and the Contents o'th'
Story. Ah, but some naturall notes about her Body, Aboue ten thousand
meaner Moueables

Would testifie, t' enrich mine Inuentorie. O sleepe, thou Ape of death,
lye dull vpon her, And be her Sense but as a Monument,

Thus in a Chappell lying. Come off, come off; As slippery as the
Gordian-knot was hard. 'Tis mine, and this will witnesse outwardly, As
strongly as the Conscience do's within: To'th' madding of her Lord. On
her left brest A mole Cinque-spotted: Like the Crimson drops I'th'
bottome of a Cowslippe. Heere's a Voucher, Stronger then euer Law could
make; this Secret Will force him thinke I haue pick'd the lock, and
t'ane The treasure of her Honour. No more: to what end? Why should I
write this downe, that's riueted, Screw'd to my memorie. She hath bin
reading late, The Tale of Tereus, heere the leaffe's turn'd downe Where
Philomele gaue vp. I haue enough,

To'th' Truncke againe, and shut the spring of it. Swift, swift, you
Dragons of the night, that dawning May beare the Rauens eye: I lodge in
feare, Though this a heauenly Angell: hell is heere.

Clocke strikes

One, two, three: time, time.

Enter.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Clotten, and Lords.

1. Your Lordship is the most patient man in losse, the most coldest
that euer turn'd vp Ace

Clot. It would make any man cold to loose

1. But not euery man patient after the noble temper of your
Lordship; You are most hot, and furious when you winne.

Winning will put any man into courage: if I could get this foolish
Imogen, I should haue Gold enough: it's almost morning, is't not?

1 Day, my Lord

Clot. I would this Musicke would come: I am aduised to giue her
Musicke a mornings, they say it will penetrate. Enter Musitians.

Come on, tune: If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so: wee'l
try with tongue too: if none will do, let her remaine: but Ile neuer
giue o're. First, a very excellent good conceyted thing; after a
wonderful sweet aire, with admirable rich words to it, and then let her
consider.

SONG.

Hearke, hearke, the Larke at Heauens gate sings, and Phoebus gins
arise,

His Steeds to water at those Springs

on chalic'd Flowres that lyes:

And winking Mary-buds begin to ope their Golden eyes With euery thing
that pretty is, my Lady sweet arise: Arise, arise.

So, get you gone: if this penetrate, I will consider your Musicke the
better: if it do not, it is a voyce in her eares which Horse-haires,
and Calues-guts, nor the voyce of vnpaued Eunuch to boot, can neuer
amend.

Enter Cymbaline, and Queene.

2 Heere comes the King

Clot. I am glad I was vp so late, for that's the reason I was vp so
earely: he cannot choose but take this Seruice I haue done, fatherly.
Good morrow to your Maiesty, and to my gracious Mother

Cym. Attend you here the doore of our stern daughter Will she not
forth?

Clot. I haue assayl'd her with Musickes, but she vouchsafes no
notice

Cym. The Exile of her Minion is too new, She hath not yet forgot
him, some more time Must weare the print of his remembrance on't, And
then she's yours

Qu. You are most bound to'th' King,

Who let's go by no vantages, that may

Preferre you to his daughter: Frame your selfe To orderly solicity, and
be friended

With aptnesse of the season: make denials Encrease your Seruices: so
seeme, as if

You were inspir'd to do those duties which You tender to her: that you
in all obey her, Saue when command to your dismission tends, And
therein you are senselesse

Clot. Senselesse? Not so

Mes. So like you (Sir) Ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius
Lucius

Cym. A worthy Fellow,

Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;

But that's no fault of his: we must receyue him According to the Honor
of his Sender,

And towards himselfe, his goodnesse fore-spent on vs We must extend our
notice: Our deere Sonne, When you haue giuen good morning to your
Mistris, Attend the Queene, and vs, we shall haue neede T' employ you
towards this Romane.

Come our Queene.

Exeunt.

Clot. If she be vp, Ile speake with her: if not Let her lye still,
and dreame: by your leaue hoa, I know her women are about her: what

If I do line one of their hands, 'tis Gold Which buyes admittance (oft
it doth) yea, and makes Diana's Rangers false themselues, yeeld vp
Their Deere to'th' stand o'th' Stealer: and 'tis Gold Which makes the
True-man kill'd, and saues the Theefe: Nay, sometime hangs both Theefe,
and True-man: what Can it not do, and vndoo? I will make

One of her women Lawyer to me, for

I yet not vnderstand the case my selfe.

By your leaue.

Knockes.

Enter a Lady.

La. Who's there that knockes?

Clot. A Gentleman

La. No more

Clot. Yes, and a Gentlewomans Sonne

La. That's more

Then some whose Taylors are as deere as yours, Can iustly boast of:
what's your Lordships pleasure?   Clot. Your Ladies person, is she
ready?   La. I, to keepe her Chamber

Clot. There is Gold for you,

Sell me your good report

La. How, my good name? or to report of you What I shall thinke is
good. The Princesse. Enter Imogen.

Clot. Good morrow fairest, Sister your sweet hand

Imo. Good morrow Sir, you lay out too much paines For purchasing but
trouble: the thankes I giue, Is telling you that I am poore of thankes,
And scarse can spare them

Clot. Still I sweare I loue you

Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deepe with me: If you sweare
still, your recompence is still That I regard it not

Clot. This is no answer

Imo. But that you shall not say, I yeeld being silent, I would not
speake. I pray you spare me, 'faith I shall vnfold equall discourtesie

To your best kindnesse: one of your great knowing Should learne (being
taught) forbearance

Clot. To leaue you in your madnesse, 'twere my sin, I will not

Imo. Fooles are not mad Folkes

Clot. Do you call me Foole?

Imo. As I am mad I do:

If you'l be patient, Ile no more be mad,

That cures vs both. I am much sorry (Sir) You put me to forget a Ladies
manners

By being so verball: and learne now, for all, That I which know my
heart, do heere pronounce By th' very truth of it, I care not for you,
And am so neere the lacke of Charitie

To accuse my selfe, I hate you: which I had rather You felt, then
make't my boast

Clot. You sinne against

Obedience, which you owe your Father, for The Contract you pretend with
that base Wretch, One, bred of Almes, and foster'd with cold dishes,
With scraps o'th' Court: It is no Contract, none; And though it be
allowed in meaner parties (Yet who then he more meane) to knit their
soules (On whom there is no more dependancie

But Brats and Beggery) in selfe-figur'd knot, Yet you are curb'd from
that enlargement, by The consequence o'th' Crowne, and must not foyle
The precious note of it; with a base Slaue, A Hilding for a Liuorie, a
Squires Cloth, A Pantler; not so eminent

Imo. Prophane Fellow:

Wert thou the Sonne of Iupiter, and no more, But what thou art besides:
thou wer't too base, To be his Groome: thou wer't dignified enough Euen
to the point of Enuie. If 'twere made Comparatiue for your Vertues, to
be stil'd The vnder Hangman of his Kingdome; and hated For being
prefer'd so well

Clot. The South-Fog rot him

Imo. He neuer can meete more mischance, then come To be but nam'd of
thee. His mean'st Garment That euer hath but clipt his body; is dearer
In my respect, then all the Heires aboue thee, Were they all made such
men: How now Pisanio? Enter Pisanio.

Clot. His Garments? Now the diuell

Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently

Clot. His Garment?

Imo. I am sprighted with a Foole,

Frighted, and angred worse: Go bid my woman Search for a Iewell, that
too casually

Hath left mine Arme: it was thy Masters. Shrew me If I would loose it
for a Reuenew,

Of any Kings in Europe. I do think,

I saw't this morning: Confident I am.

Last night 'twas on mine Arme; I kiss'd it, I hope it be not gone, to
tell my Lord

That I kisse aught but he

Pis. 'Twill not be lost

Imo. I hope so: go and search

Clot. You haue abus'd me:

His meanest Garment?

Imo. I, I said so Sir,

If you will make't an Action, call witnesse to't

Clot. I will enforme your Father

Imo. Your Mother too:

She's my good Lady; and will concieue, I hope But the worst of me. So I
leaue you Sir,

To'th' worst of discontent.

Enter.

Clot. Ile be reueng'd:

His mean'st Garment? Well.

Enter.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Posthumus, and Philario.

Post. Feare it not Sir: I would I were so sure To winne the King, as
I am bold, her Honour Will remaine her's

Phil. What meanes do you make to him?

Post. Not any: but abide the change of Time, Quake in the present
winters state, and wish That warmer dayes would come: In these fear'd
hope I barely gratifie your loue; they fayling I must die much your
debtor

Phil. Your very goodnesse, and your company, Ore-payes all I can do.
By this your King, Hath heard of Great Augustus: Caius Lucius, Will
do's Commission throughly. And I think Hee'le grant the Tribute: send
th' Arrerages, Or looke vpon our Romaines, whose remembrance Is yet
fresh in their griefe

Post. I do beleeue

(Statist though I am none, nor like to be) That this will proue a
Warre; and you shall heare The Legion now in Gallia, sooner landed

In our not-fearing-Britaine, then haue tydings Of any penny Tribute
paid. Our Countrymen Are men more order'd, then when Iulius Caesar
Smil'd at their lacke of skill, but found their courage Worthy his
frowning at. Their discipline, (Now wing-led with their courages) will
make knowne To their Approuers, they are People, such That mend vpon
the world.

Enter Iachimo.

Phi. See Iachimo

Post. The swiftest Harts, haue posted you by land; And Windes of all
the Corners kiss'd your Sailes, To make your vessell nimble

Phil. Welcome Sir

Post. I hope the briefenesse of your answere, made The speedinesse
of your returne

Iachi. Your Lady,

Is one of the fayrest that I haue look'd vpon   Post. And therewithall
the best, or let her beauty Looke thorough a Casement to allure false
hearts, And be false with them

Iachi. Heere are Letters for you

Post. Their tenure good I trust

Iach. 'Tis very like

Post. Was Caius Lucius in the Britaine Court, When you were there?

Iach. He was expected then,

But not approach'd

Post. All is well yet,

Sparkles this Stone as it was wont, or is't not Too dull for your good
wearing?

Iach. If I haue lost it,

I should haue lost the worth of it in Gold, Ile make a iourney twice as
farre, t' enioy A second night of such sweet shortnesse, which Was mine
in Britaine, for the Ring is wonne

Post. The Stones too hard to come by

Iach. Not a whit,

Your Lady being so easy

Post. Make note Sir

Your losse, your Sport: I hope you know that we Must not continue
Friends

Iach. Good Sir, we must

If you keepe Couenant: had I not brought

The knowledge of your Mistris home, I grant We were to question
farther; but I now

Professe my selfe the winner of her Honor, Together with your Ring; and
not the wronger Of her, or you hauing proceeded but

By both your willes

Post. If you can mak't apparant

That you haue tasted her in Bed; my hand, And Ring is yours. If not,
the foule opinion You had of her pure Honour; gaines, or looses, Your
Sword, or mine, or Masterlesse leaue both To who shall finde them

Iach. Sir, my Circumstances

Being so nere the Truth, as I will make them, Must first induce you to
beleeue; whose strength I will confirme with oath, which I doubt not
You'l giue me leaue to spare, when you shall finde You neede it not

Post. Proceed

Iach. First, her Bed-chamber

(Where I confesse I slept not, but professe Had that was well worth
watching) it was hang'd With Tapistry of Silke, and Siluer, the Story
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,

And Sidnus swell'd aboue the Bankes, or for The presse of Boates, or
Pride. A peece of Worke So brauely done, so rich, that it did striue In
Workemanship, and Value, which I wonder'd Could be so rarely, and
exactly wrought

Since the true life on't was-

Post. This is true:

And this you might haue heard of heere, by me, Or by some other

Iach. More particulars

Must iustifie my knowledge

Post. So they must,

Or doe your Honour iniury

Iach. The Chimney

Is South the Chamber, and the Chimney-peece Chaste Dian, bathing: neuer
saw I figures So likely to report themselues; the Cutter Was as another
Nature dumbe, out-went her, Motion, and Breath left out

Post. This is a thing

Which you might from Relation likewise reape, Being, as it is, much
spoke of

Iach. The Roofe o'th' Chamber,

With golden Cherubins is fretted. Her Andirons (I had forgot them) were
two winking Cupids Of Siluer, each on one foote standing, nicely
Depending on their Brands

Post. This is her Honor:

Let it be granted you haue seene all this (and praise Be giuen to your
remembrance) the description Of what is in her Chamber, nothing saues

The wager you haue laid

Iach. Then if you can

Be pale, I begge but leaue to ayre this Iewell: See, And now 'tis vp
againe: it must be married To that your Diamond, Ile keepe them

Post. Ioue-

Once more let me behold it: Is it that

Which I left with her?

Iach. Sir (I thanke her) that

She stript it from her Arme: I see her yet: Her pretty Action, did
out-sell her guift, And yet enrich'd it too: she gaue it me,

And said, she priz'd it once

Post. May be, she pluck'd it off

To send it me

Iach. She writes so to you? doth shee?   Post. O no, no, no, 'tis
true. Heere, take this too, It is a Basiliske vnto mine eye,

Killes me to looke on't: Let there be no Honor, Where there is Beauty:
Truth, where semblance: Loue, Where there's another man. The Vowes of
Women, Of no more bondage be, to where they are made, Then they are to
their Vertues, which is nothing: O, aboue measure false

Phil. Haue patience Sir,

And take your Ring againe, 'tis not yet wonne: It may be probable she
lost it: or

Who knowes if one her women, being corrupted Hath stolne it from her

Post. Very true,

And so I hope he came by't: backe my Ring, Render to me some corporall
signe about her More euident then this: for this was stolne

Iach. By Iupiter, I had it from her Arme

Post. Hearke you, he sweares: by Iupiter he sweares. 'Tis true, nay
keepe the Ring; 'tis true: I am sure She would not loose it: her
Attendants are All sworne, and honourable: they induc'd to steale it?
And by a Stranger? No, he hath enioy'd her, The Cognisance of her
incontinencie

Is this: she hath bought the name of Whore, thus deerly There, take thy
hyre, and all the Fiends of Hell Diuide themselues betweene you

Phil. Sir, be patient:

This is not strong enough to be beleeu'd

Of one perswaded well of

Post. Neuer talke on't:

She hath bin colted by him

Iach. If you seeke

For further satisfying, vnder her Breast

(Worthy her pressing) lyes a Mole, right proud Of that most delicate
Lodging. By my life I kist it, and it gaue me present hunger

To feede againe, though full. You do remember This staine vpon her?

Post. I, and it doth confirme

Another staine, as bigge as Hell can hold, Were there no more but it

Iach. Will you heare more?

Post. Spare your Arethmaticke,

Neuer count the Turnes: Once, and a Million

Iach. Ile be sworne

Post. No swearing:

If you will sweare you haue not done't, you lye, And I will kill thee,
if thou do'st deny

Thou'st made me Cuckold

Iach. Ile deny nothing

Post. O that I had her heere, to teare her Limb-meale: I will go
there and doo't, i'th' Court, before Her Father. Ile do something.

Enter.

Phil. Quite besides

The gouernment of Patience. You haue wonne: Let's follow him, and
peruert the present wrath He hath against himselfe

Iach. With all my heart.

Exeunt.

Enter Posthumus.

Post. Is there no way for Men to be, but Women Must be halfe-workers?
We are all Bastards, And that most venerable man, which I

Did call my Father, was, I know not where When I was stampt. Some
Coyner with his Tooles Made me a counterfeit: yet my Mother seem'd The
Dian of that time: so doth my Wife

The Non-pareill of this. Oh Vengeance, Vengeance! Me of my lawfull
pleasure she restrain'd, And pray'd me oft forbearance: did it with A
pudencie so Rosie, the sweet view on't

Might well haue warm'd olde Saturne;

That I thought her

As Chaste, as vn-Sunn'd Snow. Oh, all the Diuels! This yellow Iachimo
in an houre, was't not? Or lesse; at first? Perchance he spoke not, but
Like a full Acorn'd Boare, a Iarmen on,

Cry'de oh, and mounted; found no opposition But what he look'd for,
should oppose, and she Should from encounter guard. Could I finde out
The Womans part in me, for there's no motion That tends to vice in man,
but I affirme

It is the Womans part: be it Lying, note it, The womans: Flattering,
hers; Deceiuing, hers: Lust, and ranke thoughts, hers, hers: Reuenges
hers: Ambitions, Couetings, change of Prides, Disdaine, Nice-longing,
Slanders, Mutability;

All Faults that name, nay, that Hell knowes, Why hers, in part, or all:
but rather all. For euen to Vice They are not constant, but are
changing still; One Vice, but of a minute old, for one

Not halfe so old as that. Ile write against them, Detest them, curse
them: yet 'tis greater Skill In a true Hate, to pray they haue their
will: The very Diuels cannot plague them better. Enter.



Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter in State, Cymbeline, Queene, Clotten, and Lords at one doore, and
at

another, Caius, Lucius; and Attendants.

Cym. Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with vs?   Luc. When Iulius
Caesar (whose remembrance yet Liues in mens eyes, and will to Eares and
Tongues Be Theame, and hearing euer) was in this Britain, And Conquer'd
it, Cassibulan thine Vnkle

(Famous in Caesars prayses, no whit lesse Then in his Feats deseruing
it) for him,

And his Succession, granted Rome a Tribute, Yeerely three thousand
pounds; which (by thee) lately Is left vntender'd

Qu. And to kill the meruaile,

Shall be so euer

Clot. There be many Caesars,

Ere such another Iulius: Britaine's a world By it selfe, and we will
nothing pay

For wearing our owne Noses

Qu. That opportunity

Which then they had to take from's, to resume We haue againe. Remember
Sir, my Liege,

The Kings your Ancestors, together with

The naturall brauery of your Isle, which stands As Neptunes Parke,
ribb'd, and pal'd in

With Oakes vnskaleable, and roaring Waters, With Sands that will not
beare your Enemies Boates, But sucke them vp to'th' Top-mast. A kinde
of Conquest Caesar made heere, but made not heere his bragge Of Came,
and Saw, and Ouer-came: with shame (The first that euer touch'd him) he
was carried From off our Coast, twice beaten: and his Shipping (Poore
ignorant Baubles) on our terrible Seas Like Egge-shels mou'd vpon their
Surges, crack'd As easily 'gainst our Rockes. For ioy whereof, The
fam'd Cassibulan, who was once at point (Oh giglet Fortune) to master
Caesars Sword, Made Luds-Towne with reioycing-Fires bright, And
Britaines strut with Courage

Clot. Come, there's no more Tribute to be paid: our Kingdome is
stronger then it was at that time: and (as I said) there is no mo such
Caesars, other of them may haue crook'd Noses, but to owe such straite
Armes, none

Cym. Son, let your Mother end

Clot. We haue yet many among vs, can gripe as hard as Cassibulan, I
doe not say I am one: but I haue a hand. Why Tribute? Why should we pay
Tribute? If Caesar can hide the Sun from vs with a Blanket, or put the
Moon in his pocket, we will pay him Tribute for light: else Sir, no
more Tribute, pray you now

Cym. You must know,

Till the iniurious Romans, did extort

This Tribute from vs, we were free. Caesars Ambition, Which swell'd so
much, that it did almost stretch The sides o'th' World, against all
colour heere, Did put the yoake vpon's; which to shake off Becomes a
warlike people, whom we reckon

Our selues to be, we do. Say then to Caesar, Our Ancestor was that
Mulmutius, which

Ordain'd our Lawes, whose vse the Sword of Caesar Hath too much
mangled; whose repayre, and franchise, Shall (by the power we hold) be
our good deed, Tho Rome be therfore angry. Mulmutius made our lawes Who
was the first of Britaine, which did put His browes within a golden
Crowne, and call'd Himselfe a King

Luc. I am sorry Cymbeline,

That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar

(Caesar, that hath moe Kings his Seruants, then Thy selfe Domesticke
Officers) thine Enemy: Receyue it from me then. Warre, and Confusion In
Caesars name pronounce I 'gainst thee: Looke For fury, not to be
resisted. Thus defide, I thanke thee for my selfe

Cym. Thou art welcome Caius,

Thy Caesar Knighted me; my youth I spent

Much vnder him; of him, I gather'd Honour, Which he, to seeke of me
againe, perforce, Behooues me keepe at vtterance. I am perfect, That
the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for

Their Liberties are now in Armes: a President Which not to reade, would
shew the Britaines cold: So Caesar shall not finde them

Luc. Let proofe speake

Clot. His Maiesty biddes you welcome. Make pastime with vs, a day,
or two, or longer: if you seek vs afterwards in other tearmes, you
shall finde vs in our Saltwater-Girdle: if you beate vs out of it, it
is yours: if you fall in the aduenture, our Crowes shall fare the
better for you: and there's an end

Luc. So sir

Cym. I know your Masters pleasure, and he mine: All the Remaine, is
welcome.

Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Pisanio reading of a Letter.

Pis. How? of Adultery? Wherefore write you not What Monsters her
accuse? Leonatus:

Oh Master, what a strange infection

Is falne into thy eare? What false Italian, (As poysonous tongu'd, as
handed) hath preuail'd On thy too ready hearing? Disloyall? No.

She's punish'd for her Truth; and vndergoes More Goddesse-like, then
Wife-like; such Assaults As would take in some Vertue. Oh my Master,
Thy mind to her, is now as lowe, as were

Thy Fortunes. How? That I should murther her, Vpon the Loue, and Truth,
and Vowes; which I Haue made to thy command? I her? Her blood? If it be
so, to do good seruice, neuer

Let me be counted seruiceable. How looke I, That I should seeme to
lacke humanity,

So much as this Fact comes to? Doo't: The Letter. That I haue sent her,
by her owne command, Shall giue thee opportunitie. Oh damn'd paper,
Blacke as the Inke that's on thee: senselesse bauble, Art thou a
Foedarie for this Act; and look'st So Virgin-like without? Loe here she
comes. Enter Imogen.

I am ignorant in what I am commanded

Imo. How now Pisanio?

Pis. Madam, heere is a Letter from my Lord

Imo. Who, thy Lord? That is my Lord Leonatus? Oh, learn'd indeed
were that Astronomer

That knew the Starres, as I his Characters, Heel'd lay the Future open.
You good Gods, Let what is heere contain'd, rellish of Loue, Of my
Lords health, of his content: yet not That we two are asunder, let that
grieue him; Some griefes are medcinable, that is one of them, For it
doth physicke Loue, of his content, All but in that. Good Wax, thy
leaue: blest be You Bees that make these Lockes of counsaile. Louers,
And men in dangerous Bondes pray not alike, Though Forfeytours you cast
in prison, yet You claspe young Cupids Tables: good Newes Gods. Iustice
and your Fathers wrath (should he take me in his Dominion) could not be
so cruell to me, as you: (oh the deerest of Creatures) would euen renew
me with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria at Milford-Hauen:
what your owne Loue, will out of this aduise you, follow. So he wishes
you all happinesse, that remaines loyall to his Vow, and your
encreasing

in Loue. Leonatus Posthumus.

Oh for a Horse with wings: Hear'st thou Pisanio? He is at
Milford-Hauen: Read, and tell me How farre 'tis thither. If one of
meane affaires May plod it in a weeke, why may not I

Glide thither in a day? Then true Pisanio, Who long'st like me, to see
thy Lord; who long'st (Oh let me bate) but not like me: yet long'st But
in a fainter kinde. Oh not like me:

For mine's beyond, beyond: say, and speake thicke (Loues Counsailor
should fill the bores of hearing, To'th' smothering of the Sense) how
farre it is To this same blessed Milford. And by'th' way Tell me how
Wales was made so happy, as

T' inherite such a Hauen. But first of all, How we may steale from
hence: and for the gap That we shall make in Time, from our
hence-going, And our returne, to excuse: but first, how get hence. Why
should excuse be borne or ere begot?

Weele talke of that heereafter. Prythee speake, How many store of Miles
may we well rid

Twixt houre, and houre?

Pis. One score 'twixt Sun, and Sun,

Madam's enough for you: and too much too

Imo. Why, one that rode to's Execution Man, Could neuer go so slow:
I haue heard of Riding wagers, Where Horses haue bin nimbler then the
Sands That run i'th' Clocks behalfe. But this is Foolrie, Go, bid my
Woman faigne a Sicknesse, say

She'le home to her Father; and prouide me presently A Riding Suit: No
costlier then would fit A Franklins Huswife

Pisa. Madam, you're best consider

Imo. I see before me (Man) nor heere, nor heere; Nor what ensues but
haue a Fog in them

That I cannot looke through. Away, I prythee, Do as I bid thee: There's
no more to say: Accessible is none but Milford way.

Exeunt.



Scena Tertia.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Aruiragus.

Bel. A goodly day, not to keepe house with such, Whose Roofe's as
lowe as ours: Sleepe Boyes, this gate Instructs you how t' adore the
Heauens; and bowes you To a mornings holy office. The Gates of
Monarches Are Arch'd so high, that Giants may iet through And keepe
their impious Turbonds on, without Good morrow to the Sun. Haile thou
faire Heauen, We house i'th' Rocke, yet vse thee not so hardly As
prouder liuers do

Guid. Haile Heauen

Aruir. Haile Heauen

Bela. Now for our Mountaine sport, vp to yond hill Your legges are
yong: Ile tread these Flats. Consider, When you aboue perceiue me like
a Crow,

That it is Place, which lessen's, and sets off, And you may then
reuolue what Tales, I haue told you, Of Courts, of Princes; of the
Tricks in Warre. This Seruice, is not Seruice; so being done, But being
so allowed. To apprehend thus,

Drawes vs a profit from all things we see: And often to our comfort,
shall we finde

The sharded-Beetle, in a safer hold

Then is the full-wing'd Eagle. Oh this life, Is Nobler, then attending
for a checke:

Richer, then doing nothing for a Babe:

Prouder, then rustling in vnpayd-for Silke: Such gaine the Cap of him,
that makes him fine, Yet keepes his Booke vncros'd: no life to ours

Gui. Out of your proofe you speak: we poore vnfledg'd Haue neuer
wing'd from view o'th' nest; nor knowes not What Ayre's from home.
Hap'ly this life is best, (If quiet life be best) sweeter to you

That haue a sharper knowne. Well corresponding With your stiffe Age;
but vnto vs, it is

A Cell of Ignorance: trauailing a bed,

A Prison, or a Debtor, that not dares

To stride a limit

Arui. What should we speake of

When we are old as you? When we shall heare The Raine and winde beate
darke December? How In this our pinching Caue, shall we discourse The
freezing houres away? We haue seene nothing: We are beastly; subtle as
the Fox for prey, Like warlike as the Wolfe, for what we eate: Our
Valour is to chace what flyes: Our Cage We make a Quire, as doth the
prison'd Bird, And sing our Bondage freely

Bel. How you speake.

Did you but know the Citties Vsuries,

And felt them knowingly: the Art o'th' Court, As hard to leaue, as
keepe: whose top to climbe Is certaine falling: or so slipp'ry, that
The feare's as bad as falling. The toyle o'th' Warre, A paine that
onely seemes to seeke out danger I'th' name of Fame, and Honor, which
dyes i'th' search, And hath as oft a sland'rous Epitaph,

As Record of faire Act. Nay, many times

Doth ill deserue, by doing well: what's worse Must curt'sie at the
Censure. Oh Boyes, this Storie The World may reade in me: My bodie's
mark'd With Roman Swords; and my report, was once First, with the best
of Note. Cymbeline lou'd me, And when a Souldier was the Theame, my
name Was not farre off: then was I as a Tree

Whose boughes did bend with fruit. But in one night, A Storme, or
Robbery (call it what you will) Shooke downe my mellow hangings: nay my
Leaues, And left me bare to weather

Gui. Vncertaine fauour

Bel. My fault being nothing (as I haue told you oft) But that two
Villaines, whose false Oathes preuayl'd Before my perfect Honor, swore
to Cymbeline, I was Confederate with the Romanes: so

Followed my Banishment, and this twenty yeeres, This Rocke, and these
Demesnes, haue bene my World, Where I haue liu'd at honest freedome,
payed More pious debts to Heauen, then in all

The fore-end of my time. But, vp to'th' Mountaines, This is not Hunters
Language; he that strikes The Venison first, shall be the Lord o'th'
Feast, To him the other two shall minister,

And we will feare no poyson, which attends In place of greater State:

Ile meete you in the Valleyes.

Exeunt.

How hard it is to hide the sparkes of Nature? These Boyes know little
they are Sonnes to'th' King, Nor Cymbeline dreames that they are aliue.
They thinke they are mine,

And though train'd vp thus meanely

I'th' Caue, whereon the Bowe their thoughts do hit, The Roofes of
Palaces, and Nature prompts them In simple and lowe things, to Prince
it, much Beyond the tricke of others. This Paladour, The heyre of
Cymbeline and Britaine, who

The King his Father call'd Guiderius. Ioue, When on my three-foot
stoole I sit, and tell The warlike feats I haue done, his spirits flye
out Into my Story: say thus mine Enemy fell,

And thus I set my foote on's necke, euen then The Princely blood flowes
in his Cheeke, he sweats, Straines his yong Nerues, and puts himselfe
in posture That acts my words. The yonger Brother Cadwall, Once
Aruiragus, in as like a figure

Strikes life into my speech, and shewes much more His owne conceyuing.
Hearke, the Game is rows'd, Oh Cymbeline, Heauen and my Conscience
knowes Thou didd'st vniustly banish me: whereon

At three, and two yeeres old, I stole these Babes, Thinking to barre
thee of Succession, as

Thou refts me of my Lands. Euriphile,

Thou was't their Nurse, they took thee for their mother, And euery day
do honor to her graue:

My selfe Belarius, that am Mergan call'd

They take for Naturall Father. The Game is vp. Enter.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Pisanio and Imogen.

Imo. Thou told'st me when we came fro[m] horse, y place Was neere at
hand: Ne're long'd my Mother so To see me first, as I haue now.
Pisanio, Man: Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind

That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh From th' inward
of thee? One, but painted thus Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd

Beyond selfe-explication. Put thy selfe

Into a hauiour of lesse feare, ere wildnesse Vanquish my stayder
Senses. What's the matter? Why render'st thou that Paper to me, with A
looke vntender? If't be Summer Newes

Smile too't before: if Winterly, thou need'st But keepe that
count'nance stil. My Husbands hand? That Drug-damn'd Italy, hath
out-craftied him, And hee's at some hard point. Speake man, thy Tongue
May take off some extreamitie, which to reade Would be euen mortall to
me

Pis. Please you reade,

And you shall finde me (wretched man) a thing The most disdain'd of
Fortune

Imogen reades. Thy Mistris (Pisanio) hath plaide the Strumpet in my

Bed: the Testimonies whereof, lyes bleeding in me. I speak not out of
weake Surmises, but from proofe as strong as my greefe, and as certaine
as I expect my Reuenge. That part, thou (Pisanio) must acte for me, if
thy Faith be not tainted with the breach of hers; let thine owne hands
take away her life: I shall giue thee opportunity at Milford Hauen. She
hath my Letter for the purpose; where, if thou feare to strike, and to
make mee certaine it is done, thou art the Pander to her dishonour, and
equally to me disloyall

Pis. What shall I need to draw my Sword, the Paper Hath cut her
throat alreadie? No, 'tis Slander, Whose edge is sharper then the
Sword, whose tongue Out-venomes all the Wormes of Nyle, whose breath
Rides on the posting windes, and doth belye All corners of the World.
Kings, Queenes, and States, Maides, Matrons, nay the Secrets of the
Graue This viperous slander enters. What cheere, Madam?   Imo. False to
his Bed? What is it to be false? To lye in watch there, and to thinke
on him? To weepe 'twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge Nature, To
breake it with a fearfull dreame of him, And cry my selfe awake? That's
false to's bed? Is it?   Pisa. Alas good Lady

Imo. I false? Thy Conscience witnesse: Iachimo, Thou didd'st accuse
him of Incontinencie, Thou then look'dst like a Villaine: now, me
thinkes Thy fauours good enough. Some Iay of Italy (Whose mother was
her painting) hath betraid him: Poore I am stale, a Garment out of
fashion, And for I am richer then to hang by th' walles, I must be
ript: To peeces with me: Oh!

Mens Vowes are womens Traitors. All good seeming By thy reuolt (oh
Husband) shall be thought Put on for Villainy; not borne where't
growes, But worne a Baite for Ladies

Pisa. Good Madam, heare me

Imo. True honest men being heard, like false Aeneas, Were in his
time thought false: and Synons weeping Did scandall many a holy teare:
tooke pitty From most true wretchednesse. So thou, Posthumus Wilt lay
the Leauen on all proper men;

Goodly, and gallant, shall be false and periur'd From thy great faile:
Come Fellow, be thou honest, Do thou thy Masters bidding. When thou
seest him, A little witnesse my obedience. Looke

I draw the Sword my selfe, take it, and hit The innocent Mansion of my
Loue (my Heart:) Feare not, 'tis empty of all things, but Greefe: Thy
Master is not there, who was indeede

The riches of it. Do his bidding, strike, Thou mayst be valiant in a
better cause;

But now thou seem'st a Coward

Pis. Hence vile Instrument,

Thou shalt not damne my hand

Imo. Why, I must dye:

And if I do not by thy hand, thou art

No Seruant of thy Masters. Against Selfe-slaughter, There is a
prohibition so Diuine,

That crauens my weake hand: Come, heere's my heart: Something's a-foot:
Soft, soft, wee'l no defence, Obedient as the Scabbard. What is heere,

The Scriptures of the Loyall Leonatus,

All turn'd to Heresie? Away, away

Corrupters of my Faith, you shall no more Be Stomachers to my heart:
thus may pooru Fooles Beleeue false Teachers: Though those that are
betraid Do feele the Treason sharpely, yet the Traitor Stands in worse
case of woe. And thou Posthumus, That didd'st set vp my disobedience
'gainst the King My Father, and makes me put into contempt the suites
Of Princely Fellowes, shalt heereafter finde It is no acte of common
passage, but

A straine of Rarenesse: and I greeue my selfe, To thinke, when thou
shalt be disedg'd by her, That now thou tyrest on, how thy memory

Will then be pang'd by me. Prythee dispatch, The Lambe entreats the
Butcher. Wher's thy knife? Thou art too slow to do thy Masters bidding
When I desire it too

Pis. Oh gracious Lady:

Since I receiu'd command to do this businesse, I haue not slept one
winke

Imo. Doo't, and to bed then

Pis. Ile wake mine eye-balles first

Imo. Wherefore then

Didd'st vndertake it? Why hast thou abus'd So many Miles, with a
pretence? This place? Mine Action? and thine owne? Our Horses labour?
The Time inuiting thee? The perturb'd Court For my being absent?
whereunto I neuer

Purpose returne. Why hast thou gone so farre To be vn-bent? when thou
hast 'tane thy stand, Th' elected Deere before thee?

Pis. But to win time

To loose so bad employment, in the which

I haue consider'd of a course: good Ladie Heare me with patience

Imo. Talke thy tongue weary, speake:

I haue heard I am a Strumpet, and mine eare Therein false strooke, can
take no greater wound, Nor tent, to bottome that. But speake

Pis. Then Madam,

I thought you would not backe againe

Imo. Most like,

Bringing me heere to kill me

Pis. Not so neither:

But if I were as wise, as honest, then

My purpose would proue well: it cannot be, But that my Master is
abus'd. Some Villaine, I, and singular in his Art, hath done you both
This cursed iniurie

Imo. Some Roman Curtezan?

Pisa. No, on my life:

Ile giue but notice you are dead, and send him Some bloody signe of it.
For 'tis commanded I should do so: you shall be mist at Court, And that
will well confirme it

Imo. Why good Fellow,

What shall I do the while? Where bide? How liue? Or in my life, what
comfort, when I am

Dead to my Husband?

Pis. If you'l backe to'th' Court

Imo. No Court, no Father, nor no more adoe With that harsh, noble,
simple nothing:

That Clotten, whose Loue-suite hath bene to me As fearefull as a Siege

Pis. If not at Court,

Then not in Britaine must you bide

Imo. Where then?

Hath Britaine all the Sunne that shines? Day? Night? Are they not but
in Britaine? I'th' worlds Volume Our Britaine seemes as of it, but not
in't: In a great Poole, a Swannes-nest, prythee thinke There's liuers
out of Britaine

Pis. I am most glad

You thinke of other place: Th' Ambassador, Lucius the Romane comes to
Milford-Hauen

To morrow. Now, if you could weare a minde Darke, as your Fortune is,
and but disguise That which t' appeare it selfe, must not yet be, But
by selfe-danger, you should tread a course Pretty, and full of view:
yea, happily, neere The residence of Posthumus; so nie (at least) That
though his Actions were not visible, yut Report should render him
hourely to your eare, As truely as he mooues

Imo. Oh for such meanes,

Though perill to my modestie, not death on't I would aduenture

Pis. Well then, heere's the point:

You must forget to be a Woman: change

Command, into obedience. Feare, and Nicenesse (The Handmaides of all
Women, or more truely Woman it pretty selfe) into a waggish courage,
Ready in gybes, quicke-answer'd, sawcie, and As quarrellous as the
Weazell: Nay, you must Forget that rarest Treasure of your Cheeke,
Exposing it (but oh the harder heart,

Alacke no remedy) to the greedy touch

Of common-kissing Titan: and forget

Your laboursome and dainty Trimmes, wherein You made great Iuno angry

Imo. Nay be breefe?

I see into thy end, and am almost

A man already

Pis. First, make your selfe but like one, Fore-thinking this. I haue
already fit

('Tis in my Cloake-bagge) Doublet, Hat, Hose, all That answer to them:
Would you in their seruing, (And with what imitation you can borrow

From youth of such a season) 'fore Noble Lucius Present your selfe,
desire his seruice: tell him Wherein you're happy; which will make him
know, If that his head haue eare in Musicke, doubtlesse With ioy he
will imbrace you: for hee's Honourable, And doubling that, most holy.
Your meanes abroad: You haue me rich, and I will neuer faile

Beginning, nor supplyment

Imo. Thou art all the comfort

The Gods will diet me with. Prythee away, There's more to be
consider'd: but wee'l euen All that good time will giue vs. This
attempt, I am Souldier too, and will abide it with A Princes Courage.
Away, I prythee

Pis. Well Madam, we must take a short farewell, Least being mist, I
be suspected of

Your carriage from the Court. My Noble Mistris, Heere is a boxe, I had
it from the Queene, What's in't is precious: If you are sicke at Sea,
Or Stomacke-qualm'd at Land, a Dramme of this Will driue away
distemper. To some shade, And fit you to your Manhood: may the Gods
Direct you to the best

Imo. Amen: I thanke thee.

Exeunt.



Scena Quinta.

Enter Cymbeline, Queene, Cloten, Lucius, and Lords.

Cym. Thus farre, and so farewell

Luc. Thankes, Royall Sir:

My Emperor hath wrote, I must from hence, And am right sorry, that I
must report ye My Masters Enemy

Cym. Our Subiects (Sir)

Will not endure his yoake; and for our selfe To shew lesse Soueraignty
then they, must needs Appeare vn-Kinglike

Luc. So Sir: I desire of you

A Conduct ouer Land, to Milford-Hauen.

Madam, all ioy befall your Grace, and you

Cym. My Lords, you are appointed for that Office: The due of Honor,
in no point omit:

So farewell Noble Lucius

Luc. Your hand, my Lord

Clot. Receiue it friendly: but from this time forth I weare it as
your Enemy

Luc. Sir, the Euent

Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well

Cym. Leaue not the worthy Lucius, good my Lords Till he haue crost
the Seuern. Happines.

Exit Lucius, &c

Qu. He goes hence frowning: but it honours vs That we haue giuen him
cause

Clot. 'Tis all the better,

Your valiant Britaines haue their wishes in it

Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor How it goes heere. It
fits vs therefore ripely Our Chariots, and our Horsemen be in
readinesse: The Powres that he already hath in Gallia Will soone be
drawne to head, from whence he moues His warre for Britaine

Qu. 'Tis not sleepy businesse,

But must be look'd too speedily, and strongly

Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus Hath made vs forward. But
my gentle Queene, Where is our Daughter? She hath not appear'd Before
the Roman, nor to vs hath tender'd The duty of the day. She looke vs
like

A thing more made of malice, then of duty, We haue noted it. Call her
before vs, for We haue beene too slight in sufferance

Qu. Royall Sir,

Since the exile of Posthumus, most retyr'd Hath her life bin: the Cure
whereof, my Lord, 'Tis time must do. Beseech your Maiesty,

Forbeare sharpe speeches to her. Shee's a Lady So tender of rebukes,
that words are stroke; And strokes death to her.

Enter a Messenger.

Cym. Where is she Sir? How

Can her contempt be answer'd?

Mes. Please you Sir,

Her Chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer That will be giuen
to'th' lowd of noise, we make

Qu. My Lord, when last I went to visit her, She pray'd me to excuse
her keeping close, Whereto constrain'd by her infirmitie,

She should that dutie leaue vnpaide to you Which dayly she was bound to
proffer: this She wish'd me to make knowne: but our great Court Made me
too blame in memory

Cym. Her doores lock'd?

Not seene of late? Grant Heauens, that which I Feare, proue false.

Enter.

Qu. Sonne, I say, follow the King

Clot. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old Seruant I haue not seene
these two dayes.

Enter.

Qu. Go, looke after:

Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus, He hath a Drugge of mine:
I pray, his absence Proceed by swallowing that. For he beleeues It is a
thing most precious. But for her, Where is she gone? Haply dispaire
hath seiz'd her: Or wing'd with feruour of her loue, she's flowne To
her desir'd Posthumus: gone she is,

To death, or to dishonor, and my end

Can make good vse of either. Shee being downe, I haue the placing of
the Brittish Crowne. Enter Cloten.

How now, my Sonne?

Clot. 'Tis certaine she is fled:

Go in and cheere the King, he rages, none Dare come about him

Qu. All the better: may

This night fore-stall him of the comming day.

Exit Qu.

Clo. I loue, and hate her: for she's Faire and Royall, And that she
hath all courtly parts more exquisite Then Lady, Ladies, Woman, from
euery one

The best she hath, and she of all compounded Out-selles them all. I
loue her therefore, but Disdaining me, and throwing Fauours on

The low Posthumus, slanders so her iudgement, That what's else rare, is
choak'd: and in that point I will conclude to hate her, nay indeede, To
be reueng'd vpon her. For, when Fooles shall- Enter Pisanio.

Who is heere? What, are you packing sirrah? Come hither: Ah you
precious Pandar, Villaine, Where is thy Lady? In a word, or else

Thou art straightway with the Fiends

Pis. Oh, good my Lord

Clo. Where is thy Lady? Or, by Iupiter, I will not aske againe.
Close Villaine,

Ile haue this Secret from thy heart, or rip Thy heart to finde it. Is
she with Posthumus? From whose so many waights of basenesse, cannot A
dram of worth be drawne

Pis. Alas, nay Lord,

How can she be with him? When was she miss'd? He is in Rome

Clot. Where is she Sir? Come neerer:

No farther halting: satisfie me home,

What is become of her?

Pis. Oh, my all-worthy Lord

Clo. All-worthy Villaine,

Discouer where thy Mistris is, at once,

At the next word: no more of worthy Lord: Speake, or thy silence on the
instant, is Thy condemnation, and thy death

Pis. Then Sir:

This Paper is the historie of my knowledge Touching her flight

Clo. Let's see't: I will pursue her

Euen to Augustus Throne

Pis. Or this, or perish.

She's farre enough, and what he learnes by this, May proue his trauell,
not her danger

Clo. Humh

Pis. Ile write to my Lord she's dead: Oh Imogen, Safe mayst thou
wander, safe returne agen

Clot. Sirra, is this Letter true?

Pis. Sir, as I thinke

Clot. It is Posthumus hand, I know't. Sirrah, if thou would'st not
be a Villain, but do me true seruice: vndergo those Imployments wherin
I should haue cause to vse thee with a serious industry, that is, what
villainy soere I bid thee do to performe it, directly and truely, I
would thinke thee an honest man: thou should'st neither want my meanes
for thy releefe, nor my voyce for thy preferment

Pis. Well, my good Lord

Clot. Wilt thou serue mee? For since patiently and constantly thou
hast stucke to the bare Fortune of that Begger Posthumus, thou canst
not in the course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of mine.
Wilt thou serue mee?

Pis. Sir, I will

Clo. Giue mee thy hand, heere's my purse. Hast any of thy late
Masters Garments in thy possession?   Pisan. I haue (my Lord) at my
Lodging, the same Suite he wore, when he tooke leaue of my Ladie &
Mistresse

Clo. The first seruice thou dost mee, fetch that Suite hither, let
it be thy first seruice, go

Pis. I shall my Lord.

Enter.

Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Hauen: (I forgot to aske him one thing, Ile
remember't anon:) euen there, thou villaine Posthumus will I kill thee.
I would these Garments were come. She saide vpon a time (the
bitternesse of it, I now belch from my heart) that shee held the very
Garment of Posthumus, in more respect, then my Noble and naturall
person; together with the adornement of my Qualities. With that Suite
vpon my backe wil I rauish her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there
shall she see my valour, which wil then be a torment to hir contempt.
He on the ground, my speech of insulment ended on his dead bodie, and
when my Lust hath dined (which, as I say, to vex her, I will execute in
the Cloathes that she so prais'd:) to the Court Ile knock her backe,
foot her home againe. She hath despis'd mee reioycingly, and Ile bee
merry in my Reuenge.

Enter Pisanio.

Be those the Garments?

Pis. I, my Noble Lord

Clo. How long is't since she went to Milford-Hauen?   Pis. She can
scarse be there yet

Clo. Bring this Apparrell to my Chamber, that is the second thing
that I haue commanded thee. The third is, that thou wilt be a
voluntarie Mute to my designe. Be but dutious, and true preferment
shall tender it selfe to thee. My Reuenge is now at Milford, would I
had wings to follow it. Come, and be true.

Exit

Pis. Thou bid'st me to my losse: for true to thee, Were to proue
false, which I will neuer bee To him that is most true. To Milford go,

And finde not her, whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow You Heauenly
blessings on her: This Fooles speede Be crost with slownesse; Labour be
his meede.

Exit



Scena Sexta.

Enter Imogen alone.

Imo. I see a mans life is a tedious one, I haue tyr'd my selfe: and
for two nights together Haue made the ground my bed. I should be sicke,
But that my resolution helpes me: Milford, When from the Mountaine top,
Pisanio shew'd thee, Thou was't within a kenne. Oh Ioue, I thinke
Foundations flye the wretched: such I meane, Where they should be
releeu'd. Two Beggers told me, I could not misse my way. Will poore
Folkes lye That haue Afflictions on them, knowing 'tis A punishment, or
Triall? Yes; no wonder,

When Rich-ones scarse tell true. To lapse in Fulnesse Is sorer, then to
lye for Neede: and Falshood Is worse in Kings, then Beggers. My deere
Lord, Thou art one o'th' false Ones: Now I thinke on thee, My hunger's
gone; but euen before, I was

At point to sinke, for Food. But what is this? Heere is a path too't:
'tis some sauage hold: I were best not call; I dare not call: yet
Famine Ere cleane it o're-throw Nature, makes it valiant. Plentie, and
Peace breeds Cowards: Hardnesse euer Of Hardinesse is Mother. Hoa?
who's heere? If any thing that's ciuill, speake: if sauage, Take, or
lend. Hoa? No answer? Then Ile enter. Best draw my Sword; and if mine
Enemy

But feare the Sword like me, hee'l scarsely looke on't. Such a Foe,
good Heauens.

Enter.



Scena Septima.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Aruiragus

Bel. You Polidore haue prou'd best Woodman, and Are Master of the
Feast: Cadwall, and I

Will play the Cooke, and Seruant, 'tis our match: The sweat of industry
would dry, and dye

But for the end it workes too. Come, our stomackes Will make what's
homely, sauoury: Wearinesse Can snore vpon the Flint, when restie Sloth
Findes the Downe-pillow hard. Now peace be heere, Poore house, that
keep'st thy selfe

Gui. I am throughly weary

Arui. I am weake with toyle, yet strong in appetite

Gui. There is cold meat i'th' Caue, we'l brouz on that Whil'st what
we haue kill'd, be Cook'd

Bel. Stay, come not in:

But that it eates our victualles, I should thinke Heere were a Faiery

Gui. What's the matter, Sir?

Bel. By Iupiter an Angell: or if not

An earthly Paragon. Behold Diuinenesse

No elder then a Boy.

Enter Imogen.

Imo. Good masters harme me not:

Before I enter'd heere, I call'd, and thought To haue begg'd, or
bought, what I haue took: good troth I haue stolne nought, nor would
not, though I had found Gold strew'd i'th' Floore. Heere's money for my
Meate, I would haue left it on the Boord, so soone As I had made my
Meale; and parted

With Pray'rs for the Prouider

Gui. Money? Youth

Aru. All Gold and Siluer rather turne to durt, As 'tis no better
reckon'd, but of those

Who worship durty Gods

Imo. I see you're angry:

Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should Haue dyed, had I not made
it

Bel. Whether bound?

Imo. To Milford-Hauen

Bel. What's your name?

Imo. Fidele Sir: I haue a Kinsman, who

Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford, To whom being going, almost
spent with hunger, I am falne in this offence

Bel. Prythee (faire youth)

Thinke vs no Churles: nor measure our good mindes By this rude place we
liue in. Well encounter'd, 'Tis almost night, you shall haue better
cheere Ere you depart; and thankes to stay, and eate it: Boyes, bid him
welcome

Gui. Were you a woman, youth,

I should woo hard, but be your Groome in honesty: I bid for you, as I
do buy

Arui. Ile make't my Comfort

He is a man, Ile loue him as my Brother:

And such a welcome as I'ld giue to him

(After long absence) such is yours. Most welcome: Be sprightly, for you
fall 'mongst Friends

Imo. 'Mongst Friends?

If Brothers: would it had bin so, that they Had bin my Fathers Sonnes,
then had my prize Bin lesse, and so more equall ballasting

To thee Posthumus

Bel. He wrings at some distresse

Gui. Would I could free't

Arui. Or I, what ere it be,

What paine it cost, what danger: Gods!

Bel. Hearke Boyes

Imo. Great men

That had a Court no bigger then this Caue, That did attend themselues,
and had the vertue Which their owne Conscience seal'd them: laying by
That nothing-guift of differing Multitudes Could not out-peere these
twaine. Pardon me Gods, I'ld change my sexe to be Companion with them,
Since Leonatus false

Bel. It shall be so:

Boyes wee'l go dresse our Hunt. Faire youth come in; Discourse is
heauy, fasting: when we haue supp'd Wee'l mannerly demand thee of thy
Story,

So farre as thou wilt speake it

Gui. Pray draw neere

Arui. The Night to'th' Owle,

And Morne to th' Larke lesse welcome

Imo. Thankes Sir

Arui. I pray draw neere.

Exeunt.



Scena Octaua.

Enter two Roman Senators, and Tribunes.

1.Sen. This is the tenor of the Emperors Writ; That since the common
men are now in Action 'Gainst the Pannonians, and Dalmatians,

And that the Legions now in Gallia, are

Full weake to vndertake our Warres against The falne-off Britaines,
that we do incite The Gentry to this businesse. He creates

Lucius Pro-Consull: and to you the Tribunes For this immediate Leuy, he
commands

His absolute Commission. Long liue Caesar

Tri. Is Lucius Generall of the Forces?   2.Sen. I

Tri. Remaining now in Gallia?

1.Sen. With those Legions

Which I haue spoke of, whereunto your leuie Must be suppliant: the
words of your Commission Will tye you to the numbers, and the time Of
their dispatch

Tri. We will discharge our duty.

Exeunt.



Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Clotten alone.

Clot I am neere to'th' place where they should meet, if Pisanio haue
mapp'd it truely. How fit his Garments serue me? Why should his Mistris
who was made by him that made the Taylor, not be fit too? The rather
(sauing reuerence of the Word) for 'tis saide a Womans fitnesse comes
by fits: therein I must play the Workman, I dare speake it to my selfe,
for it is not Vainglorie for a man, and his Glasse, to confer in his
owne Chamber; I meane, the Lines of my body are as well drawne as his;
no lesse young, more strong, not beneath him in Fortunes, beyond him in
the aduantage of the time, aboue him in Birth, alike conuersant in
generall seruices, and more remarkeable in single oppositions; yet this
imperseuerant Thing loues him in my despight. What Mortalitie is?
Posthumus, thy head (which now is growing vppon thy shoulders) shall
within this houre be off, thy Mistris inforced, thy Garments cut to
peeces before thy face: and all this done, spurne her home to her
Father, who may (happily) be a little angry for my so rough vsage: but
my Mother hauing power of his testinesse, shall turne all into my
commendations. My Horse is tyed vp safe, out Sword, and to a sore
purpose: Fortune put them into my hand: This is the very description of
their meeting place and the Fellow dares not deceiue me.

Enter.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, Aruiragus, and Imogen from the Caue.

Bel. You are not well: Remaine heere in the Caue, Wee'l come to you
after Hunting

Arui. Brother, stay heere:

Are we not Brothers?

Imo. So man and man should be,

But Clay and Clay, differs in dignitie,

Whose dust is both alike. I am very sicke,   Gui. Go you to Hunting,
Ile abide with him

Imo. So sicke I am not, yet I am not well: But not so Citizen a
wanton, as

To seeme to dye, ere sicke: So please you, leaue me, Sticke to your
Iournall course: the breach of Custome, Is breach of all. I am ill, but
your being by me Cannot amend me. Society, is no comfort

To one not sociable: I am not very sicke, Since I can reason of it:
pray you trust me heere, Ile rob none but my selfe, and let me dye
Stealing so poorely

Gui. I loue thee: I haue spoke it,

How much the quantity, the waight as much, As I do loue my Father

Bel. What? How? how?

Arui. If it be sinne to say so (Sir) I yoake mee In my good Brothers
fault: I know not why I loue this youth, and I haue heard you say,
Loue's reason's, without reason. The Beere at doore, And a demand who
is't shall dye, I'ld say My Father, not this youth

Bel. Oh noble straine!

O worthinesse of Nature, breed of Greatnesse! ``Cowards father Cowards,
& Base things Syre Bace; ``Nature hath Meale, and Bran; Contempt, and
Grace. I'me not their Father, yet who this should bee, Doth myracle it
selfe, lou'd before mee.

'Tis the ninth houre o'th' Morne

Arui. Brother, farewell

Imo. I wish ye sport

Arui. You health. - So please you Sir

Imo. These are kinde Creatures.

Gods, what lyes I haue heard:

Our Courtiers say, all's sauage, but at Court; Experience, oh thou
disproou'st Report.

Th' emperious Seas breeds Monsters; for the Dish, Poore Tributary
Riuers, as sweet Fish:

I am sicke still, heart-sicke; Pisanio,

Ile now taste of thy Drugge

Gui. I could not stirre him:

He said he was gentle, but vnfortunate;

Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest

Arui. Thus did he answer me: yet said heereafter, I might know more

Bel. To'th' Field, to'th' Field:

Wee'l leaue you for this time, go in, and rest

Arui. Wee'l not be long away

Bel. Pray be not sicke,

For you must be our Huswife

Imo. Well, or ill,

I am bound to you.

Enter.

Bel. And shal't be euer.

This youth, how ere distrest, appeares he hath had Good Ancestors

Arui. How Angell-like he sings?

Gui. But his neate Cookerie?

Arui. He cut our Rootes in Charracters, And sawc'st our Brothes, as
Iuno had bin sicke, And he her Dieter

Arui. Nobly he yoakes

A smiling, with a sigh; as if the sighe

Was that it was, for not being such a Smile: The Smile, mocking the
Sigh, that it would flye From so diuine a Temple, to commix

With windes, that Saylors raile at

Gui. I do note,

That greefe and patience rooted in them both, Mingle their spurres
together

Arui. Grow patient,

And let the stinking-Elder (Greefe) vntwine His perishing roote, with
the encreasing Vine

Bel. It is great morning. Come away: Who's there? Enter Cloten.

Clo. I cannot finde those Runnagates, that Villaine Hath mock'd me. I
am faint

Bel. Those Runnagates?

Meanes he not vs? I partly know him, 'tis Cloten, the Sonne o'th'
Queene. I feare some Ambush: I saw him not these many yeares, and yet

I know 'tis he: We are held as Out-Lawes: Hence

Gui. He is but one: you, and my Brother search What Companies are
neere: pray you away,

Let me alone with him

Clot. Soft, what are you

That flye me thus? Some villaine-Mountainers? I haue heard of such.
What Slaue art thou?   Gui. A thing

More slauish did I ne're, then answering

A Slaue without a knocke

Clot. Thou art a Robber,

A Law-breaker, a Villaine: yeeld thee Theefe

Gui. To who? to thee? What art thou? Haue not I An arme as bigge as
thine? A heart, as bigge: Thy words I grant are bigger: for I weare not
My Dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art: Why I should yeeld to thee?

Clot. Thou Villaine base,

Know'st me not by my Cloathes?

Gui. No, nor thy Taylor, Rascall:

Who is thy Grandfather? He made those cloathes, Which (as it seemes)
make thee

Clo. Thou precious Varlet,

My Taylor made them not

Gui. Hence then, and thanke

The man that gaue them thee. Thou art some Foole, I am loath to beate
thee

Clot. Thou iniurious Theefe,

Heare but my name, and tremble

Gui. What's thy name?

Clo. Cloten, thou Villaine

Gui. Cloten, thou double Villaine be thy name, I cannot tremble at
it, were it Toad, or Adder, Spider, 'Twould moue me sooner

Clot. To thy further feare,

Nay, to thy meere Confusion, thou shalt know I am Sonne to'th' Queene

Gui. I am sorry for't: not seeming

So worthy as thy Birth

Clot. Art not afeard?

Gui. Those that I reuerence, those I feare: the Wise: At Fooles I
laugh: not feare them

Clot. Dye the death:

When I haue slaine thee with my proper hand, Ile follow those that euen
now fled hence: And on the Gates of Luds-Towne set your heads: Yeeld
Rusticke Mountaineer.

Fight and Exeunt.

Enter Belarius and Aruiragus.

Bel. No Companie's abroad?

Arui. None in the world: you did mistake him sure

Bel. I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him, But Time hath
nothing blurr'd those lines of Fauour Which then he wore: the snatches
in his voice, And burst of speaking were as his: I am absolute 'Twas
very Cloten

Arui. In this place we left them;

I wish my Brother make good time with him, You say he is so fell

Bel. Being scarse made vp,

I meane to man; he had not apprehension

Of roaring terrors: For defect of iudgement Is oft the cause of Feare.

Enter Guiderius.

But see thy Brother

Gui. This Cloten was a Foole, an empty purse, There was no money
in't: Not Hercules

Could haue knock'd out his Braines, for he had none: Yet I not doing
this, the Foole had borne My head, as I do his

Bel. What hast thou done?

Gui. I am perfect what: cut off one Clotens head, Sonne to the Queene
(after his owne report) Who call'd me Traitor, Mountaineer, and swore
With his owne single hand heel'd take vs in, Displace our heads, where
(thanks the Gods) they grow And set them on Luds-Towne

Bel. We are all vndone

Gui. Why, worthy Father, what haue we to loose, But that he swore to
take our Liues? the Law Protects not vs, then why should we be tender,
To let an arrogant peece of flesh threat vs? Play Iudge, and
Executioner, all himselfe? For we do feare the Law. What company

Discouer you abroad?

Bel. No single soule

Can we set eye on: but in all safe reason He must haue some Attendants.
Though his Honor Was nothing but mutation, I, and that

From one bad thing to worse: Not Frenzie, Not absolute madnesse could
so farre haue rau'd To bring him heere alone: although perhaps It may
be heard at Court, that such as wee Caue heere, hunt heere, are
Out-lawes, and in time May make some stronger head, the which he
hearing, (As it is like him) might breake out, and sweare Heel'd fetch
vs in, yet is't not probable To come alone, either he so vndertaking,

Or they so suffering: then on good ground we feare, If we do feare this
Body hath a taile

More perillous then the head

Arui. Let Ord'nance

Come as the Gods fore-say it: howsoere,

My Brother hath done well

Bel. I had no minde

To hunt this day: The Boy Fideles sickenesse Did make my way long
forth

Gui. With his owne Sword,

Which he did waue against my throat, I haue tane His head from him: Ile
throw't into the Creeke Behinde our Rocke, and let it to the Sea, And
tell the Fishes, hee's the Queenes Sonne, Cloten, That's all I reake.

Enter.

Bel. I feare 'twill be reueng'd:

Would (Polidore) thou had'st not done't: though valour Becomes thee
well enough

Arui. Would I had done't:

So the Reuenge alone pursu'de me: Polidore I loue thee brotherly, but
enuy much

Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would Reuenges That possible
strength might meet, wold seek vs through And put vs to our answer

Bel. Well, 'tis done:

Wee'l hunt no more to day, nor seeke for danger Where there's no
profit. I prythee to our Rocke, You and Fidele play the Cookes: Ile
stay

Till hasty Polidore returne, and bring him To dinner presently

Arui. Poore sicke Fidele.

Ile willingly to him, to gaine his colour, Il'd let a parish of such
Clotens blood,

And praise my selfe for charity.

Enter.

Bel. Oh thou Goddesse,

Thou diuine Nature; thou thy selfe thou blazon'st In these two Princely
Boyes: they are as gentle As Zephires blowing below the Violet,

Not wagging his sweet head; and yet, as rough (Their Royall blood
enchaf'd) as the rud'st winde, That by the top doth take the Mountaine
Pine, And make him stoope to th' Vale. 'Tis wonder That an inuisible
instinct should frame them To Royalty vnlearn'd, Honor vntaught,

Ciuility not seene from other: valour

That wildely growes in them, but yeelds a crop As if it had beene
sow'd: yet still it's strange What Clotens being heere to vs portends,

Or what his death will bring vs.

Enter Guidereus.

Gui. Where's my Brother?

I haue sent Clotens Clot-pole downe the streame, In Embassie to his
Mother; his Bodie's hostage For his returne.

Solemn Musick.

Bel. My ingenuous Instrument,

(Hearke Polidore) it sounds: but what occasion Hath Cadwal now to giue
it motion? Hearke

Gui. Is he at home?

Bel. He went hence euen now

Gui. What does he meane?

Since death of my deer'st Mother

It did not speake before. All solemne things Should answer solemne
Accidents. The matter? Triumphes for nothing, and lamenting Toyes, Is
iollity for Apes, and greefe for Boyes. Is Cadwall mad?

Enter Aruiragus, with Imogen dead, bearing her in his Armes.

Bel. Looke, heere he comes,

And brings the dire occasion in his Armes, Of what we blame him for

Arui. The Bird is dead

That we haue made so much on. I had rather Haue skipt from sixteene
yeares of Age, to sixty: To haue turn'd my leaping time into a Crutch,
Then haue seene this

Gui. Oh sweetest, fayrest Lilly:

My Brother weares thee not the one halfe so well, As when thou grew'st
thy selfe

Bel. Oh Melancholly,

Who euer yet could sound thy bottome? Finde The Ooze, to shew what
Coast thy sluggish care Might'st easilest harbour in. Thou blessed
thing, Ioue knowes what man thou might'st haue made: but I, Thou
dyed'st a most rare Boy, of Melancholly. How found you him?

Arui. Starke, as you see:

Thus smiling, as some Fly had tickled slumber, Not as deaths dart being
laugh'd at: his right Cheeke Reposing on a Cushion

Gui. Where?

Arui. O'th' floore:

His armes thus leagu'd, I thought he slept, and put My clowted Brogues
from off my feete, whose rudenesse Answer'd my steps too lowd

Gui. Why, he but sleepes:

If he be gone, hee'l make his Graue, a Bed: With female Fayries will
his Tombe be haunted, And Wormes will not come to thee

Arui. With fayrest Flowers

Whil'st Sommer lasts, and I liue heere, Fidele, Ile sweeten thy sad
graue: thou shalt not lacke The Flower that's like thy face.
Pale-Primrose, nor The azur'd Hare-Bell, like thy Veines: no, nor The
leafe of Eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweetned not thy breath:
the Raddocke would With Charitable bill (Oh bill sore shaming Those
rich-left-heyres, that let their Fathers lye Without a Monument) bring
thee all this,

Yea, and furr'd Mosse besides. When Flowres are none To winter-ground
thy Coarse-

Gui. Prythee haue done,

And do not play in Wench-like words with that Which is so serious. Let
vs bury him,

And not protract with admiration, what

Is now due debt. To'th' graue

Arui. Say, where shall's lay him?

Gui. By good Euriphile, our Mother

Arui. Bee't so:

And let vs (Polidore) though now our voyces Haue got the mannish
cracke, sing him to'th' ground As once to our Mother: vse like note,
and words, Saue that Euriphile, must be Fidele

Gui. Cadwall,

I cannot sing: Ile weepe, and word it with thee; For Notes of sorrow,
out of tune, are worse Then Priests, and Phanes that lye

Arui. Wee'l speake it then

Bel. Great greefes I see med'cine the lesse: For Cloten Is quite
forgot. He was a Queenes Sonne, Boyes, And though he came our Enemy,
remember

He was paid for that: though meane, and mighty rotting Together haue
one dust, yet Reuerence

(That Angell of the world) doth make distinction Of place 'tweene high,
and low. Our Foe was Princely, And though you tooke his life, as being
our Foe, Yet bury him, as a Prince

Gui. Pray you fetch him hither,

Thersites body is as good as Aiax,

When neyther are aliue

Arui. If you'l go fetch him,

Wee'l say our Song the whil'st: Brother begin

Gui. Nay Cadwall, we must lay his head to th' East, My Father hath a
reason for't

Arui. 'Tis true

Gui. Come on then, and remoue him

Arui. So, begin.

SONG.

Guid. Feare no more the heate o'th' Sun, Nor the furious Winters
rages,

Thou thy worldly task hast don,

Home art gon, and tane thy wages.

Golden Lads, and Girles all must,

As Chimney-Sweepers come to dust

Arui. Feare no more the frowne o'th' Great, Thou art past the
Tirants stroake,

Care no more to cloath and eate,

To thee the Reede is as the Oake:

The Scepter, Learning, Physicke must,

All follow this and come to dust

Guid. Feare no more the Lightning flash

Arui. Nor th' all-dreaded Thunderstone

Gui. Feare not Slander, Censure rash

Arui. Thou hast finish'd Ioy and mone

Both. All Louers young, all Louers must, Consigne to thee and come
to dust

Guid. No Exorcisor harme thee,

Arui. Nor no witch-craft charme thee

Guid. Ghost vnlaid forbeare thee

Arui. Nothing ill come neere thee

Both. Quiet consumation haue,

And renowned be thy graue.

Enter Belarius with the body of Cloten.

Gui. We haue done our obsequies:

Come lay him downe

Bel. Heere's a few Flowres, but 'bout midnight more: The hearbes
that haue on them cold dew o'th' night Are strewings fit'st for Graues:
vpon their Faces. You were as Flowres, now wither'd: euen so These
Herbelets shall, which we vpon you strew. Come on, away, apart vpon our
knees:

The ground that gaue them first, ha's them againe: Their pleasures here
are past, so are their paine.

Exeunt.

Imogen awakes.

Yes Sir, to Milford-Hauen, which is the way? I thanke you: by yond
bush? pray how farre thether? 'Ods pittikins: can it be sixe mile yet?

I haue gone all night: 'Faith, Ile lye downe, and sleepe. But soft; no
Bedfellow? Oh Gods, and Goddesses! These Flowres are like the pleasures
of the World; This bloody man the care on't. I hope I dreame: For so I
thought I was a Caue-keeper,

And Cooke to honest Creatures. But 'tis not so: 'Twas but a bolt of
nothing, shot of nothing, Which the Braine makes of Fumes. Our very
eyes, Are sometimes like our Iudgements, blinde. Good faith I tremble
still with feare: but if there be Yet left in Heauen, as small a drop
of pittie As a Wrens eye; fear'd Gods, a part of it. The Dreame's heere
still: euen when I wake it is Without me, as within me: not imagin'd,
felt. A headlesse man? The Garments of Posthumus? I know the shape of's
Legge: this is his Hand: His Foote Mercuriall: his martiall Thigh

The brawnes of Hercules: but his Iouiall face- Murther in heauen? How?
'tis gone. Pisanio, All Curses madded Hecuba gaue the Greekes, And mine
to boot, be darted on thee: thou Conspir'd with that Irregulous diuell
Cloten, Hath heere cut off my Lord. To write, and read, Be henceforth
treacherous. Damn'd Pisanio, Hath with his forged Letters (damn'd
Pisanio) From this most brauest vessell of the world Strooke the maine
top! Oh Posthumus, alas, Where is thy head? where's that? Aye me!
where's that? Pisanio might haue kill'd thee at the heart, And left
this head on. How should this be, Pisanio? 'Tis he, and Cloten: Malice,
and Lucre in them Haue laid this Woe heere. Oh 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
The Drugge he gaue me, which hee said was precious And Cordiall to me,
haue I not found it

Murd'rous to'th' Senses? That confirmes it home: This is Pisanio's
deede, and Cloten: Oh!

Giue colour to my pale cheeke with thy blood, That we the horrider may
seeme to those

Which chance to finde vs. Oh, my Lord! my Lord! Enter Lucius,
Captaines, and a Soothsayer.

Cap. To them, the Legions garrison'd in Gallia After your will, haue
crost the Sea, attending You heere at Milford-Hauen, with your Shippes:
They are heere in readinesse

Luc. But what from Rome?

Cap. The Senate hath stirr'd vp the Confiners, And Gentlemen of
Italy, most willing Spirits, That promise Noble Seruice: and they come
Vnder the Conduct of bold Iachimo,

Syenna's Brother

Luc. When expect you them?

Cap. With the next benefit o'th' winde

Luc. This forwardnesse

Makes our hopes faire. Command our present numbers Be muster'd: bid the
Captaines looke too't. Now Sir, What haue you dream'd of late of this
warres purpose

Sooth. Last night, the very Gods shew'd me a vision (I fast, and
pray'd for their Intelligence) thus: I saw Ioues Bird, the Roman Eagle
wing'd

From the spungy South, to this part of the West, There vanish'd in the
Sun-beames, which portends (Vnlesse my sinnes abuse my Diuination)

Successe to th' Roman hoast

Luc. Dreame often so,

And neuer false. Soft hoa, what truncke is heere? Without his top? The
ruine speakes, that sometime It was a worthy building. How? a Page?

Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead rather: For Nature doth abhorre
to make his bed

With the defunct, or sleepe vpon the dead. Let's see the Boyes face

Cap. Hee's aliue my Lord

Luc. Hee'l then instruct vs of this body: Young one, Informe vs of
thy Fortunes, for it seemes They craue to be demanded: who is this

Thou mak'st thy bloody Pillow? Or who was he That (otherwise then noble
Nature did)

Hath alter'd that good Picture? What's thy interest In this sad wracke?
How came't? Who is't? What art thou?

Imo. I am nothing; or if not,

Nothing to be were better: This was my Master, A very valiant Britaine,
and a good,

That heere by Mountaineers lyes slaine: Alas, There is no more such
Masters: I may wander From East to Occident, cry out for Seruice, Try
many, all good: serue truly: neuer

Finde such another Master

Luc. 'Lacke, good youth:

Thou mou'st no lesse with thy complaining, then Thy Maister in
bleeding: say his name, good Friend

Imo. Richard du Champ: If I do lye, and do No harme by it, though
the Gods heare, I hope They'l pardon it. Say you Sir?

Luc. Thy name?

Imo. Fidele Sir

Luc. Thou doo'st approue thy selfe the very same: Thy Name well fits
thy Faith; thy Faith, thy Name: Wilt take thy chance with me? I will
not say Thou shalt be so well master'd, but be sure No lesse belou'd.
The Romane Emperors Letters Sent by a Consull to me, should not sooner
Then thine owne worth preferre thee: Go with me

Imo. Ile follow Sir. But first, and't please the Gods, Ile hide my
Master from the Flies, as deepe As these poore Pickaxes can digge: and
when With wild wood-leaues & weeds, I ha' strew'd his graue And on it
said a Century of prayers

(Such as I can) twice o're, Ile weepe, and sighe, And leauing so his
seruice, follow you,

So please you entertaine mee

Luc. I good youth,

And rather Father thee, then Master thee: My Friends, The Boy hath
taught vs manly duties: Let vs Finde out the prettiest Dazied-Plot we
can, And make him with our Pikes and Partizans A Graue: Come, Arme him:
Boy hee's preferr'd By thee, to vs, and he shall be interr'd

As Souldiers can. Be cheerefull; wipe thine eyes, Some Falles are
meanes the happier to arise.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio.

Cym. Againe: and bring me word how 'tis with her, A Feauour with the
absence of her Sonne;

A madnesse, of which her life's in danger: Heauens, How deeply you at
once do touch me. Imogen, The great part of my comfort, gone: My Queene
Vpon a desperate bed, and in a time

When fearefull Warres point at me: Her Sonne gone, So needfull for this
present? It strikes me, past The hope of comfort. But for thee, Fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure, and Dost seeme so ignorant, wee'l
enforce it from thee By a sharpe Torture

Pis. Sir, my life is yours,

I humbly set it at your will: But for my Mistris, I nothing know where
she remaines: why gone, Nor when she purposes returne. Beseech your
Highnes, Hold me your loyall Seruant

Lord. Good my Liege,

The day that she was missing, he was heere; I dare be bound hee's true,
and shall performe All parts of his subiection loyally. For Cloten,
There wants no diligence in seeking him,

And will no doubt be found

Cym. The time is troublesome:

Wee'l slip you for a season, but our iealousie Do's yet depend

Lord. So please your Maiesty,

The Romaine Legions, all from Gallia drawne, Are landed on your Coast,
with a supply

Of Romaine Gentlemen, by the Senate sent

Cym. Now for the Counsaile of my Son and Queen, I am amaz'd with
matter

Lord. Good my Liege,

Your preparation can affront no lesse

Then what you heare of. Come more, for more you're ready: The want is,
but to put those Powres in motion, That long to moue

Cym. I thanke you: let's withdraw

And meete the Time, as it seekes vs. We feare not What can from Italy
annoy vs, but

We greeue at chances heere. Away.

Exeunt.

Pisa. I heard no Letter from my Master, since I wrote him Imogen was
slaine. 'Tis strange: Nor heare I from my Mistris, who did promise To
yeeld me often tydings. Neither know I What is betide to Cloten, but
remaine

Perplext in all. The Heauens still must worke: Wherein I am false, I am
honest: not true, to be true. These present warres shall finde I loue
my Country, Euen to the note o'th' King, or Ile fall in them: All other
doubts, by time let them be cleer'd, Fortune brings in some Boats, that
are not steer'd. Enter.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, & Aruiragus.

Gui. The noyse is round about vs

Bel. Let vs from it

Arui. What pleasure Sir, we finde in life, to locke it From Action,
and Aduenture

Gui. Nay, what hope

Haue we in hiding vs? This way the Romaines Must, or for Britaines slay
vs, or receiue vs For barbarous and vnnaturall Reuolts

During their vse, and slay vs after

Bel. Sonnes,

Wee'l higher to the Mountaines, there secure vs. To the Kings party
there's no going: newnesse Of Clotens death (we being not knowne, nor
muster'd Among the Bands) may driue vs to a render Where we haue liu'd;
and so extort from's that Which we haue done, whose answer would be
death Drawne on with Torture

Gui. This is (Sir) a doubt

In such a time, nothing becomming you,

Nor satisfying vs

Arui. It is not likely,

That when they heare their Roman horses neigh, Behold their quarter'd
Fires; haue both their eyes And eares so cloyd importantly as now,

That they will waste their time vpon our note, To know from whence we
are

Bel. Oh, I am knowne

Of many in the Army: Many yeeres

(Though Cloten then but young) you see, not wore him From my
remembrance. And besides, the King Hath not deseru'd my Seruice, nor
your Loues, Who finde in my Exile, the want of Breeding; The certainty
of this heard life, aye hopelesse To haue the courtesie your Cradle
promis'd, But to be still hot Summers Tanlings, and The shrinking
Slaues of Winter

Gui. Then be so,

Better to cease to be. Pray Sir, to'th' Army: I, and my Brother are not
knowne; your selfe So out of thought, and thereto so ore-growne, Cannot
be question'd

Arui. By this Sunne that shines

Ile thither: What thing is't, that I neuer Did see man dye, scarse euer
look'd on blood, But that of Coward Hares, hot Goats, and Venison?
Neuer bestrid a Horse saue one, that had

A Rider like my selfe, who ne're wore Rowell, Nor Iron on his heele? I
am asham'd

To looke vpon the holy Sunne, to haue

The benefit of his blest Beames, remaining So long a poore vnknowne

Gui. By heauens Ile go,

If you will blesse me Sir, and giue me leaue, Ile take the better care:
but if you will not, The hazard therefore due fall on me, by

The hands of Romaines

Arui. So say I, Amen

Bel. No reason I (since of your liues you set So slight a
valewation) should reserue

My crack'd one to more care. Haue with you Boyes: If in your Country
warres you chance to dye, That is my Bed too (Lads) and there Ile lye.
Lead, lead; the time seems long, their blood thinks scorn Till it flye
out, and shew them Princes borne.

Exeunt.



Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Posthumus alone.

Post. Yea bloody cloth, Ile keep thee: for I am wisht Thou should'st
be colour'd thus. You married ones, If each of you should take this
course, how many Must murther Wiues much better then themselues For
wrying but a little? Oh Pisanio,

Euery good Seruant do's not all Commands: No Bond, but to do iust ones.
Gods, if you Should haue 'tane vengeance on my faults, I neuer Had
liu'd to put on this: so had you saued The noble Imogen, to repent, and
strooke

Me (wretch) more worth your Vengeance. But alacke, You snatch some
hence for little faults; that's loue To haue them fall no more: you
some permit To second illes with illes, each elder worse, And make them
dread it, to the dooers thrift. But Imogen is your owne, do your best
willes, And make me blest to obey. I am brought hither Among th'
Italian Gentry, and to fight

Against my Ladies Kingdome: 'Tis enough

That (Britaine) I haue kill'd thy Mistris: Peace, Ile giue no wound to
thee: therefore good Heauens, Heare patiently my purpose. Ile disrobe
me Of these Italian weedes, and suite my selfe As do's a Britaine
Pezant: so Ile fight

Against the part I come with: so Ile dye

For thee (O Imogen) euen for whom my life Is euery breath, a death: and
thus, vnknowne, Pittied, nor hated, to the face of perill My selfe Ile
dedicate. Let me make men know More valour in me, then my habits show.

Gods, put the strength o'th'Leonati in me: To shame the guize o'th'
world, I will begin, The fashion lesse without, and more within.
Enter.



Scena Secunda.

Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and the Romane Army at one doore: and the
Britaine

Army at another: Leonatus Posthumus following like a poore Souldier.
They

march ouer, and goe out. Then enter againe in Skirmish Iachimo and

Posthumus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth Iachimo, and then leaues him.

Iac. The heauinesse and guilt within my bosome, Takes off my manhood:
I haue belyed a Lady, The Princesse of this Country; and the ayre on't
Reuengingly enfeebles me, or could this Carle, A very drudge of
Natures, haue subdu'de me In my profession? Knighthoods, and Honors
borne As I weare mine) are titles but of scorne. If that thy Gentry
(Britaine) go before

This Lowt, as he exceeds our Lords, the oddes Is, that we scarse are
men, and you are Goddes. Enter.

The Battaile continues, the Britaines fly, Cymbeline is taken: Then
enter

to his rescue, Bellarius, Guiderius, and Aruiragus.

Bel. Stand, stand, we haue th' aduantage of the ground, The Lane is
guarded: Nothing rowts vs, but The villany of our feares

Gui. Arui. Stand, stand, and fight.

Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britaines. They Rescue Cymbeline, and

Exeunt.

Then enter Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen.

Luc. Away boy from the Troopes, and saue thy selfe: For friends kil
friends, and the disorder's such As warre were hood-wink'd

Iac. 'Tis their fresh supplies

Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes Let's re-inforce, or
fly.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Posthumus, and a Britaine Lord.

Lor. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand?   Post. I did,

Though you it seemes come from the Fliers?   Lo. I did

Post. No blame be to you Sir, for all was lost, But that the Heauens
fought: the King himselfe Of his wings destitute, the Army broken,

And but the backes of Britaines seene; all flying Through a strait
Lane, the Enemy full-heart'd, Lolling the Tongue with slaught'ring:
hauing worke More plentifull, then Tooles to doo't: strooke downe Some
mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling Meerely through feare,
that the strait passe was damm'd With deadmen, hurt behinde, and
Cowards liuing To dye with length'ned shame

Lo. Where was this Lane?

Post. Close by the battell, ditch'd, & wall'd with turph, Which gaue
aduantage to an ancient Soldiour (An honest one I warrant) who
deseru'd

So long a breeding, as his white beard came to, In doing this for's
Country. Athwart the Lane, He, with two striplings (Lads more like to
run The Country base, then to commit such slaughter, With faces fit for
Maskes, or rather fayrer Then those for preseruation cas'd, or shame)
Made good the passage, cryed to those that fled. Our Britaines hearts
dye flying, not our men, To darknesse fleete soules that flye
backwards; stand, Or we are Romanes, and will giue you that Like
beasts, which you shun beastly, and may saue But to looke backe in
frowne: Stand, stand. These three, Three thousand confident, in acte as
many: For three performers are the File, when all The rest do nothing.
With this word stand, stand, Accomodated by the Place; more Charming

With their owne Noblenesse, which could haue turn'd A Distaffe, to a
Lance, guilded pale lookes; Part shame, part spirit renew'd, that some
turn'd coward But by example (Oh a sinne in Warre,

Damn'd in the first beginners) gan to looke The way that they did, and
to grin like Lyons Vpon the Pikes o'th' Hunters. Then beganne A stop
i'th' Chaser; a Retyre: Anon

A Rowt, confusion thicke: forthwith they flye Chickens, the way which
they stopt Eagles: Slaues The strides the Victors made: and now our
Cowards Like Fragments in hard Voyages became

The life o'th' need: hauing found the backe doore open Of the vnguarded
hearts: heauens, how they wound, Some slaine before some dying; some
their Friends Ore-borne i'th' former waue, ten chac'd by one, Are now
each one the slaughter-man of twenty: Those that would dye, or ere
resist, are growne The mortall bugs o'th' Field

Lord. This was strange chance:

A narrow Lane, an old man, and two Boyes

Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made Rather to wonder at the
things you heare, Then to worke any. Will you Rime vpon't,

And vent it for a Mock'rie? Heere is one: ``Two Boyes, an Oldman (twice
a Boy) a Lane, ``Preseru'd the Britaines, was the Romanes bane

Lord. Nay, be not angry Sir

Post. Lacke, to what end?

Who dares not stand his Foe, Ile be his Friend: For if hee'l do, as he
is made to doo,

I know hee'l quickly flye my friendship too. You haue put me into Rime

Lord. Farewell, you're angry.

Enter.

Post. Still going? This is a Lord: Oh Noble misery To be i'th' Field,
and aske what newes of me: To day, how many would haue giuen their
Honours To haue sau'd their Carkasses? Tooke heele to doo't, And yet
dyed too. I, in mine owne woe charm'd Could not finde death, where I
did heare him groane, Nor feele him where he strooke. Being an vgly
Monster, 'Tis strange he hides him in fresh Cups, soft Beds, Sweet
words; or hath moe ministers then we That draw his kniues i'th' War.
Well I will finde him: For being now a Fauourer to the Britaine, No
more a Britaine, I haue resum'd againe The part I came in. Fight I will
no more, But yeeld me to the veriest Hinde, that shall Once touch my
shoulder. Great the slaughter is Heere made by'th' Romane; great the
Answer be Britaines must take. For me, my Ransome's death, On eyther
side I come to spend my breath; Which neyther heere Ile keepe, nor
beare agen, But end it by some meanes for Imogen.

Enter two Captaines, and Soldiers.

1 Great Iupiter be prais'd, Lucius is taken, 'Tis thought the old
man, and his sonnes, were Angels

2 There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, That gaue th' Affront
with them

1 So 'tis reported:

But none of 'em can be found. Stand, who's there?   Post. A Roman,

Who had not now beene drooping heere, if Seconds Had answer'd him

2 Lay hands on him: a Dogge,

A legge of Rome shall not returne to tell What Crows haue peckt them
here: he brags his seruice As if he were of note: bring him to'th'
King. Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Aruiragus, Pisanio, and
Romane

Captiues. The Captaines present Posthumus to Cymbeline, who deliuers
him

ouer to a Gaoler.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Posthumus, and Gaoler.

Gao. You shall not now be stolne,

You haue lockes vpon you:

So graze, as you finde Pasture

2.Gao. I, or a stomacke

Post. Most welcome bondage; for thou art a way (I thinke) to
liberty: yet am I better

Then one that's sicke o'th' Gowt, since he had rather Groane so in
perpetuity, then be cur'd

By'th' sure Physitian, Death; who is the key T' vnbarre these Lockes.
My Conscience, thou art fetter'd More then my shanks, & wrists: you
good Gods giue me The penitent Instrument to picke that Bolt, Then free
for euer. Is't enough I am sorry? So Children temporall Fathers do
appease; Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent, I cannot do it
better then in Gyues,

Desir'd, more then constrain'd, to satisfie If of my Freedome 'tis the
maine part, take No stricter render of me, then my All.

I know you are more clement then vilde men, Who of their broken Debtors
take a third, A sixt, a tenth, letting them thriue againe On their
abatement; that's not my desire. For Imogens deere life, take mine, and
though 'Tis not so deere, yet 'tis a life; you coyn'd it, 'Tweene man,
and man, they waigh not euery stampe: Though light, take Peeces for the
figures sake, (You rather) mine being yours: and so great Powres, If
you will take this Audit, take this life, And cancell these cold Bonds.
Oh Imogen,

Ile speake to thee in silence.

Solemne Musicke. Enter (as in an Apparation) Sicillius Leonatus,
Father

to Posthumus, an old man, attyred like a warriour, leading in his hand
an

ancient Matron (his wife, & Mother to Posthumus) with Musicke before
them.

Then after other Musicke, followes the two young Leonati (Brothers to

Posthumus) with wounds as they died in the warrs. They circle
Posthumus

round as he lies sleeping.

Sicil. No more thou Thunder-Master

shew thy spight, on Mortall Flies:

With Mars fall out with Iuno chide, that thy Adulteries Rates, and
Reuenges.

Hath my poore Boy done ought but well,

whose face I neuer saw:

I dy'de whil'st in the Wombe he staide,

attending Natures Law.

Whose Father then (as men report,

thou Orphanes Father art)

Thou should'st haue bin, and sheelded him, from this earth-vexing
smart

Moth. Lucina lent not me her ayde,

but tooke me in my Throwes,

That from me was Posthumus ript,

came crying 'mong'st his Foes.

A thing of pitty

Sicil. Great Nature like his Ancestrie, moulded the stuffe so
faire:

That he deseru'd the praise o'th' World,

as great Sicilius heyre

1.Bro. When once he was mature for man, in Britaine where was hee

That could stand vp his paralell?

Or fruitfull obiect bee?

In eye of Imogen, that best could deeme

his dignitie

Mo. With Marriage wherefore was he mockt to be exil'd, and throwne

From Leonati Seate, and cast from her,

his deerest one:

Sweete Imogen?

Sic. Why did you suffer Iachimo, slight thing of Italy, To taint his
Nobler hart & braine, with needlesse ielousy, And to become the geeke
and scorne o'th' others vilany?   2 Bro. For this, from stiller Seats
we came, our Parents, and vs twaine,

That striking in our Countries cause,

fell brauely, and were slaine,

Our Fealty, & Tenantius right, with Honor to maintaine

1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath

to Cymbeline perform'd:

Then Iupiter, y King of Gods, why hast y thus adiourn'd The Graces for
his Merits due, being all to dolors turn'd?

Sicil. Thy Christall window ope; looke, looke out, no longer
exercise

Vpon a valiant Race, thy harsh, and potent iniuries:

Moth. Since (Iupiter) our Son is good,

take off his miseries

Sicil. Peepe through thy Marble Mansion, helpe, or we poore Ghosts
will cry

To'th' shining Synod of the rest, against thy Deity

Brothers. Helpe (Iupiter) or we appeale, and from thy iustice flye.

Iupiter descends in Thunder and Lightning, sitting vppon an Eagle: hee

throwes a Thunder-bolt. The Ghostes fall on their knees.

Iupiter. No more you petty Spirits of Region low Offend our hearing:
hush. How dare you Ghostes Accuse the Thunderer, whose Bolt (you know)
Sky-planted, batters all rebelling Coasts. Poore shadowes of Elizium,
hence, and rest Vpon your neuer-withering bankes of Flowres. Be not
with mortall accidents opprest,

No care of yours it is, you know 'tis ours. Whom best I loue, I crosse;
to make my guift The more delay'd, delighted. Be content,

Your low-laide Sonne, our Godhead will vplift: His Comforts thriue, his
Trials well are spent: Our Iouiall Starre reign'd at his Birth, and in
Our Temple was he married: Rise, and fade, He shall be Lord of Lady
Imogen,

And happier much by his Affliction made

This Tablet lay vpon his Brest, wherein

Our pleasure, his full Fortune, doth confine, And so away: no farther
with your dinne

Expresse Impatience, least you stirre vp mine: Mount Eagle, to my
Palace Christalline.

Ascends

Sicil. He came in Thunder, his Celestiall breath Was sulphurous to
smell: the holy Eagle

Stoop'd, as to foote vs: his Ascension is More sweet then our blest
Fields: his Royall Bird Prunes the immortall wing, and cloyes his
Beake, As when his God is pleas'd

All. Thankes Iupiter

Sic. The Marble Pauement clozes, he is enter'd His radiant Roofe:
Away, and to be blest

Let vs with care performe his great behest.

Vanish

Post. Sleepe, thou hast bin a Grandsire, and begot A Father to me:
and thou hast created

A Mother, and two Brothers. But (oh scorne) Gone, they went hence so
soone as they were borne: And so I am awake. Poore Wretches, that
depend On Greatnesse, Fauour; Dreame as I haue done, Wake, and finde
nothing. But (alas) I swerue: Many Dreame not to finde, neither
deserue, And yet are steep'd in Fauours; so am I

That haue this Golden chance, and know not why: What Fayeries haunt
this ground? A Book? Oh rare one, Be not, as is our fangled world, a
Garment Nobler then that it couers. Let thy effects So follow, to be
most vnlike our Courtiers, As good, as promise.

Reades.

When as a Lyons whelpe, shall to himselfe vnknown, without seeking
finde, and bee embrac'd by a peece of tender Ayre: And when from a
stately Cedar shall be lopt branches, which being dead many yeares,
shall after reuiue, bee ioynted to the old Stocke, and freshly grow,
then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britaine be fortunate, and
flourish in Peace and Plentie. 'Tis still a Dreame: or else such stuffe
as Madmen Tongue, and braine not: either both, or nothing Or senselesse
speaking, or a speaking such As sense cannot vntye. Be what it is,

The Action of my life is like it, which Ile keepe If but for simpathy.

Enter Gaoler.

Gao. Come Sir, are you ready for death?   Post. Ouer-roasted rather:
ready long ago

Gao. Hanging is the word, Sir, if you bee readie for that, you are
well Cook'd

Post. So if I proue a good repast to the Spectators, the dish payes
the shot

Gao. A heauy reckoning for you Sir: But the comfort is you shall be
called to no more payments, fear no more Tauerne Bils, which are often
the sadnesse of parting, as the procuring of mirth: you come in faint
for want of meate, depart reeling with too much drinke: sorrie that you
haue payed too much, and sorry that you are payed too much: Purse and
Braine, both empty: the Brain the heauier, for being too light; the
Purse too light, being drawne of heauinesse. Oh, of this contradiction
you shall now be quit: Oh the charity of a penny Cord, it summes vp
thousands in a trice: you haue no true Debitor, and Creditor but it: of
what's past, is, and to come, the discharge: your necke (Sir) is Pen,
Booke, and Counters; so the Acquittance followes

Post. I am merrier to dye, then thou art to liue

Gao. Indeed Sir, he that sleepes, feeles not the Tooth-Ache: but a
man that were to sleepe your sleepe, and a Hangman to helpe him to bed,
I think he would change places with his Officer: for, look you Sir, you
know not which way you shall go

Post. Yes indeed do I, fellow

Gao. Your death has eyes in's head then: I haue not seene him so
pictur'd: you must either bee directed by some that take vpon them to
know, or to take vpon your selfe that which I am sure you do not know:
or iump the after-enquiry on your owne perill: and how you shall speed
in your iournies end, I thinke you'l neuer returne to tell one

Post. I tell thee, Fellow, there are none want eyes, to direct them
the way I am going, but such as winke, and will not vse them

Gao. What an infinite mocke is this, that a man shold haue the best
vse of eyes, to see the way of blindnesse: I am sure hanging's the way
of winking.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Knocke off his Manacles, bring your Prisoner to the King

Post. Thou bring'st good newes, I am call'd to bee made free

Gao. Ile be hang'd then

Post. Thou shalt be then freer then a Gaoler; no bolts for the dead

Gao. Vnlesse a man would marry a Gallowes, & beget yong Gibbets, I
neuer saw one so prone: yet on my Conscience, there are verier Knaues
desire to liue, for all he be a Roman; and there be some of them too
that dye against their willes; so should I, if I were one. I would we
were all of one minde, and one minde good: O there were desolation of
Gaolers and Galowses: I speake against my present profit, but my wish
hath a preferment in't.

Exeunt.



Scena Quinta.

Enter Cymbeline, Bellarius, Guiderius, Aruiragus, Pisanio, and Lords.

Cym. Stand by my side you, whom the Gods haue made Preseruers of my
Throne: woe is my heart, That the poore Souldier that so richly fought,
Whose ragges, sham'd gilded Armes, whose naked brest Stept before
Targes of proofe, cannot be found: He shall be happy that can finde
him, if

Our Grace can make him so

Bel. I neuer saw

Such Noble fury in so poore a Thing;

Such precious deeds, in one that promist nought But beggery, and poore
lookes

Cym. No tydings of him?

Pisa. He hath bin search'd among the dead, & liuing; But no trace of
him

Cym. To my greefe, I am

The heyre of his Reward, which I will adde To you (the Liuer, Heart,
and Braine of Britaine) By whom (I grant) she liues. 'Tis now the time
To aske of whence you are. Report it

Bel. Sir,

In Cambria are we borne, and Gentlemen:

Further to boast, were neyther true, nor modest, Vnlesse I adde, we are
honest

Cym. Bow your knees:

Arise my Knights o'th' Battell, I create you Companions to our person,
and will fit you With Dignities becomming your estates.

Enter Cornelius and Ladies.

There's businesse in these faces: why so sadly Greet you our Victory?
you looke like Romaines, And not o'th' Court of Britaine

Corn. Hayle great King,

To sowre your happinesse, I must report

The Queene is dead

Cym. Who worse then a Physitian

Would this report become? But I consider, By Med'cine life may be
prolong'd, yet death Will seize the Doctor too. How ended she?   Cor.
With horror, madly dying, like her life, Which (being cruell to the
world) concluded Most cruell to her selfe. What she confest, I will
report, so please you. These her Women Can trip me, if I erre, who with
wet cheekes Were present when she finish'd

Cym. Prythee say

Cor. First, she confest she neuer lou'd you: onely Affected
Greatnesse got by you: not you:

Married your Royalty, was wife to your place: Abhorr'd your person

Cym. She alone knew this:

And but she spoke it dying, I would not

Beleeue her lips in opening it. Proceed

Corn. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to loue With such
integrity, she did confesse

Was as a Scorpion to her sight, whose life (But that her flight
preuented it) she had Tane off by poyson

Cym. O most delicate Fiend!

Who is't can reade a Woman? Is there more?   Corn. More Sir, and worse.
She did confesse she had For you a mortall Minerall, which being tooke,
Should by the minute feede on life, and ling'ring, By inches waste you.
In which time, she purpos'd By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
Orecome you with her shew; and in time

(When she had fitted you with her craft, to worke Her Sonne into th'
adoption of the Crowne: But fayling of her end by his strange absence,
Grew shamelesse desperate, open'd (in despight Of Heauen, and Men) her
purposes: repented The euils she hatch'd, were not effected: so
Dispayring, dyed

Cym. Heard you all this, her Women?

La. We did, so please your Highnesse

Cym. Mine eyes

Were not in fault, for she was beautifull: Mine eares that heare her
flattery, nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming. It had beene
vicious To haue mistrusted her: yet (Oh my Daughter) That it was folly
in me, thou mayst say,

And proue it in thy feeling. Heauen mend all. Enter Lucius, Iachimo,
and other Roman prisoners, Leonatus behind, and

Imogen.

Thou comm'st not Caius now for Tribute, that The Britaines haue rac'd
out, though with the losse Of many a bold one: whose Kinsmen haue made
suite That their good soules may be appeas'd, with slaughter Of you
their Captiues, which our selfe haue granted, So thinke of your estate

Luc. Consider Sir, the chance of Warre, the day Was yours by
accident: had it gone with vs, We should not when the blood was cool,
haue threatend Our Prisoners with the Sword. But since the Gods Will
haue it thus, that nothing but our liues May be call'd ransome, let it
come: Sufficeth, A Roman, with a Romans heart can suffer:

Augustus liues to thinke on't: and so much For my peculiar care. This
one thing onely I will entreate, my Boy (a Britaine borne) Let him be
ransom'd: Neuer Master had

A Page so kinde, so duteous, diligent,

So tender ouer his occasions, true,

So feate, so Nurse-like: let his vertue ioyne With my request, which
Ile make bold your Highnesse Cannot deny: he hath done no Britaine
harme, Though he haue seru'd a Roman. Saue him (Sir) And spare no blood
beside

Cym. I haue surely seene him:

His fauour is familiar to me: Boy,

Thou hast look'd thy selfe into my grace, And art mine owne. I know not
why, wherefore, To say, liue boy: ne're thanke thy Master, liue; And
aske of Cymbeline what Boone thou wilt, Fitting my bounty, and thy
state, Ile giue it: Yea, though thou do demand a Prisoner

The Noblest tane

Imo. I humbly thanke your Highnesse

Luc. I do not bid thee begge my life, good Lad, And yet I know thou
wilt

Imo. No, no, alacke,

There's other worke in hand: I see a thing Bitter to me, as death: your
life, good Master, Must shuffle for it selfe

Luc. The Boy disdaines me,

He leaues me, scornes me: briefely dye their ioyes, That place them on
the truth of Gyrles, and Boyes. Why stands he so perplext?

Cym. What would'st thou Boy?

I loue thee more, and more: thinke more and more What's best to aske.
Know'st him thou look'st on? speak Wilt haue him liue? Is he thy Kin?
thy Friend?   Imo. He is a Romane, no more kin to me, Then I to your
Highnesse, who being born your vassaile Am something neerer

Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so?

Imo. Ile tell you (Sir) in priuate, if you please To giue me hearing

Cym. I, with all my heart,

And lend my best attention. What's thy name?   Imo. Fidele Sir

Cym. Thou'rt my good youth: my Page

Ile be thy Master: walke with me: speake freely

Bel. Is not this Boy reuiu'd from death?   Arui. One Sand another

Not more resembles that sweet Rosie Lad:

Who dyed, and was Fidele: what thinke you?   Gui. The same dead thing
aliue

Bel. Peace, peace, see further: he eyes vs not, forbeare Creatures
may be alike: were't he, I am sure He would haue spoke to vs

Gui. But we see him dead

Bel. Be silent: let's see further

Pisa. It is my Mistris:

Since she is liuing, let the time run on, To good, or bad

Cym. Come, stand thou by our side,

Make thy demand alowd. Sir, step you forth, Giue answer to this Boy,
and do it freely, Or by our Greatnesse, and the grace of it (Which is
our Honor) bitter torture shall Winnow the truth from falshood. One
speake to him

Imo. My boone is, that this Gentleman may render Of whom he had this
Ring

Post. What's that to him?

Cym. That Diamond vpon your Finger, say How came it yours?

Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leaue vnspoken, that Which to be spoke,
wou'd torture thee

Cym. How? me?

Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to vtter that Which torments me to
conceale. By Villany I got this Ring: 'twas Leonatus Iewell,

Whom thou did'st banish: and which more may greeue thee, As it doth me:
a Nobler Sir, ne're liu'd

'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou heare more my Lord?   Cym. All that
belongs to this

Iach. That Paragon, thy daughter,

For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quaile to remember.
Giue me leaue, I faint

Cym. My Daughter? what of hir? Renew thy strength I had rather thou
should'st liue, while Nature will, Then dye ere I heare more: striue
man, and speake

Iach. Vpon a time, vnhappy was the clocke That strooke the houre: it
was in Rome, accurst The Mansion where: 'twas at a Feast, oh would Our
Viands had bin poyson'd (or at least

Those which I heau'd to head:) the good Posthumus, (What should I say?
he was too good to be Where ill men were, and was the best of all
Among'st the rar'st of good ones) sitting sadly, Hearing vs praise our
Loues of Italy

For Beauty, that made barren the swell'd boast Of him that best could
speake: for Feature, laming The Shrine of Venus, or straight-pight
Minerua, Postures, beyond breefe Nature. For Condition, A shop of all
the qualities, that man

Loues woman for, besides that hooke of Wiuing, Fairenesse, which
strikes the eye

Cym. I stand on fire. Come to the matter

Iach. All too soone I shall,

Vnlesse thou would'st greeue quickly. This Posthumus, Most like a Noble
Lord, in loue, and one

That had a Royall Louer, tooke his hint,

And (not dispraising whom we prais'd, therein He was as calme as
vertue) he began

His Mistris picture, which, by his tongue, being made, And then a minde
put in't, either our bragges Were crak'd of Kitchin-Trulles, or his
description Prou'd vs vnspeaking sottes

Cym. Nay, nay, to'th' purpose

Iach. Your daughters Chastity, (there it beginnes) He spake of her,
as Dian had hot dreames, And she alone, were cold: Whereat, I wretch
Made scruple of his praise, and wager'd with him Peeces of Gold,
'gainst this, which then he wore Vpon his honour'd finger) to attaine

In suite the place of's bed, and winne this Ring By hers, and mine
Adultery: he (true Knight) No lesser of her Honour confident

Then I did truly finde her, stakes this Ring, And would so, had it
beene a Carbuncle

Of Phoebus Wheele; and might so safely, had it Bin all the worth of's
Carre. Away to Britaine Poste I in this designe: Well may you (Sir)
Remember me at Court, where I was taught

Of your chaste Daughter, the wide difference 'Twixt Amorous, and
Villanous. Being thus quench'd Of hope, not longing; mine Italian
braine, Gan in your duller Britaine operate

Most vildely: for my vantage excellent.

And to be breefe, my practise so preuayl'd That I return'd with simular
proofe enough, To make the Noble Leonatus mad,

By wounding his beleefe in her Renowne,

With Tokens thus, and thus: auerring notes Of Chamber-hanging,
Pictures, this her Bracelet (Oh cunning how I got) nay some markes

Of secret on her person, that he could not But thinke her bond of
Chastity quite crack'd, I hauing 'tane the forfeyt. Whereupon,

Me thinkes I see him now

Post. I so thou do'st,

Italian Fiend. Aye me, most credulous Foole, Egregious murtherer,
Theefe, any thing

That's due to all the Villaines past, in being To come. Oh giue me
Cord, or knife, or poyson, Some vpright Iusticer. Thou King, send out
For Torturors ingenious: it is I

That all th' abhorred things o'th' earth amend By being worse then
they. I am Posthumus, That kill'd thy Daughter: Villain-like, I lye,
That caus'd a lesser villaine then my selfe, A sacrilegious Theefe to
doo't. The Temple Of Vertue was she; yea, and she her selfe. Spit, and
throw stones, cast myre vpon me, set The dogges o'th' street to bay me:
euery villaine Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus, and

Be villany lesse then 'twas. Oh Imogen!

My Queene, my life, my wife: oh Imogen,

Imogen, Imogen

Imo. Peace my Lord, heare, heare

Post. Shall's haue a play of this?

Thou scornfull Page, there lye thy part

Pis. Oh Gentlemen, helpe,

Mine and your Mistris: Oh my Lord Posthumus, You ne're kill'd Imogen
till now: helpe, helpe, Mine honour'd Lady

Cym. Does the world go round?

Posth. How comes these staggers on mee?   Pisa. Wake my Mistris

Cym. If this be so, the Gods do meane to strike me To death, with
mortall ioy

Pisa. How fares my Mistris?

Imo. Oh get thee from my sight,

Thou gau'st me poyson: dangerous Fellow hence, Breath not where Princes
are

Cym. The tune of Imogen

Pisa. Lady, the Gods throw stones of sulpher on me, if That box I
gaue you, was not thought by mee A precious thing, I had it from the
Queene

Cym. New matter still

Imo. It poyson'd me

Corn. Oh Gods!

I left out one thing which the Queene confest, Which must approue thee
honest. If Pasanio Haue (said she) giuen his Mistris that Confection
Which I gaue him for Cordiall, she is seru'd, As I would serue a Rat

Cym. What's this, Cornelius?

Corn. The Queene (Sir) very oft importun'd me To temper poysons for
her, still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge, onely

In killing Creatures vilde, as Cats and Dogges Of no esteeme. I
dreading, that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her

A certaine stuffe, which being tane, would cease The present powre of
life, but in short time, All Offices of Nature, should againe

Do their due Functions. Haue you tane of it?   Imo. Most like I did,
for I was dead

Bel. My Boyes, there was our error

Gui. This is sure Fidele

Imo. Why did you throw your wedded Lady fro[m] you? Thinke that you
are vpon a Rocke, and now Throw me againe

Post. Hang there like fruite, my soule, Till the Tree dye

Cym. How now, my Flesh? my Childe?

What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this Act? Wilt thou not speake to
me?

Imo. Your blessing, Sir

Bel. Though you did loue this youth, I blame ye not, You had a
motiue for't

Cym. My teares that fall

Proue holy-water on thee; Imogen,

Thy Mothers dead

Imo. I am sorry for't, my Lord

Cym. Oh, she was naught; and long of her it was That we meet heere
so strangely: but her Sonne Is gone, we know not how, nor where

Pisa. My Lord,

Now feare is from me, Ile speake troth. Lord Cloten Vpon my Ladies
missing, came to me

With his Sword drawne, foam'd at the mouth, and swore If I discouer'd
not which way she was gone, It was my instant death. By accident,

I had a feigned Letter of my Masters

Then in my pocket, which directed him

To seeke her on the Mountaines neere to Milford, Where in a frenzie, in
my Masters Garments (Which he inforc'd from me) away he postes With
vnchaste purpose, and with oath to violate My Ladies honor, what became
of him,

I further know not

Gui. Let me end the Story: I slew him there

Cym. Marry, the Gods forefend.

I would not thy good deeds, should from my lips Plucke a hard sentence:
Prythee valiant youth Deny't againe

Gui. I haue spoke it, and I did it

Cym. He was a Prince

Gui. A most inciuill one. The wrongs he did mee Were nothing
Prince-like; for he did prouoke me With Language that would make me
spurne the Sea, If it could so roare to me. I cut off's head, And am
right glad he is not standing heere To tell this tale of mine

Cym. I am sorrow for thee:

By thine owne tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Endure our Law:
Thou'rt dead

Imo. That headlesse man I thought had bin my Lord   Cym. Binde the
Offender,

And take him from our presence

Bel. Stay, Sir King.

This man is better then the man he slew,

As well descended as thy selfe, and hath

More of thee merited, then a Band of Clotens Had euer scarre for. Let
his Armes alone, They were not borne for bondage

Cym. Why old Soldier:

Wilt thou vndoo the worth thou art vnpayd for By tasting of our wrath?
How of descent

As good as we?

Arui. In that he spake too farre

Cym. And thou shalt dye for't

Bel. We will dye all three,

But I will proue that two one's are as good As I haue giuen out him. My
Sonnes, I must For mine owne part, vnfold a dangerous speech, Though
haply well for you

Arui. Your danger's ours

Guid. And our good his

Bel. Haue at it then, by leaue

Thou hadd'st (great King) a Subiect, who

Was call'd Belarius

Cym. What of him? He is a banish'd Traitor

Bel. He it is, that hath

Assum'd this age: indeed a banish'd man,

I know not how, a Traitor

Cym. Take him hence,

The whole world shall not saue him

Bel. Not too hot;

First pay me for the Nursing of thy Sonnes, And let it be confiscate
all, so soone

As I haue receyu'd it

Cym. Nursing of my Sonnes?

Bel. I am too blunt, and sawcy: heere's my knee: Ere I arise, I will
preferre my Sonnes,

Then spare not the old Father. Mighty Sir, These two young Gentlemen
that call me Father, And thinke they are my Sonnes, are none of mine,
They are the yssue of your Loynes, my Liege, And blood of your
begetting

Cym. How? my Issue

Bel. So sure as you, your Fathers: I (old Morgan) Am that Belarius,
whom you sometime banish'd: Your pleasure was my neere offence, my
punishment It selfe, and all my Treason that I suffer'd, Was all the
harme I did. These gentle Princes (For such, and so they are) these
twenty yeares Haue I train'd vp; those Arts they haue, as I Could put
into them. My breeding was (Sir) As your Highnesse knowes: Their Nurse
Euriphile (Whom for the Theft I wedded) stole these Children Vpon my
Banishment: I moou'd her too't,

Hauing receyu'd the punishment before

For that which I did then. Beaten for Loyaltie, Excited me to Treason.
Their deere losse, The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd Vnto
my end of stealing them. But gracious Sir, Heere are your Sonnes
againe, and I must loose Two of the sweet'st Companions in the World.
The benediction of these couering Heauens Fall on their heads like dew,
for they are worthie To in-lay Heauen with Starres

Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st:

The Seruice that you three haue done, is more Vnlike, then this thou
tell'st. I lost my Children, If these be they, I know not how to wish

A payre of worthier Sonnes

Bel. Be pleas'd awhile;

This Gentleman, whom I call Polidore,

Most worthy Prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: This Gentleman, my
Cadwall, Aruiragus.

Your yonger Princely Son, he Sir, was lapt In a most curious Mantle,
wrought by th' hand Of his Queene Mother, which for more probation I
can with ease produce

Cym. Guiderius had

Vpon his necke a Mole, a sanguine Starre, It was a marke of wonder

Bel. This is he,

Who hath vpon him still that naturall stampe: It was wise Natures end,
in the donation

To be his euidence now

Cym. Oh, what am I

A Mother to the byrth of three? Nere Mother Reioyc'd deliuerance more:
Blest, pray you be, That after this strange starting from your Orbes,
You may reigne in them now: Oh Imogen,

Thou hast lost by this a Kingdome

Imo. No, my Lord:

I haue got two Worlds by't. Oh my gentle Brothers, Haue we thus met? Oh
neuer say heereafter But I am truest speaker. You call'd me Brother
When I was but your Sister: I you Brothers, When we were so indeed

Cym. Did you ere meete?

Arui. I my good Lord

Gui. And at first meeting lou'd,

Continew'd so, vntill we thought he dyed

Corn. By the Queenes Dramme she swallow'd

Cym. O rare instinct!

When shall I heare all through? This fierce abridgment, Hath to it
Circumstantiall branches, which Distinction should be rich in. Where?
how liu'd you? And when came you to serue our Romane Captiue? How
parted with your Brother? How first met them? Why fled you from the
Court? And whether these? And your three motiues to the Battaile? with
I know not how much more should be demanded, And all the other
by-dependances

From chance to chance? But nor the Time, nor Place Will serue our long
Interrogatories. See, Posthumus Anchors vpon Imogen;

And she (like harmlesse Lightning) throwes her eye On him: her
Brothers, Me: her Master hitting Each obiect with a Ioy: the
Counter-change Is seuerally in all. Let's quit this ground, And smoake
the Temple with our Sacrifices. Thou art my Brother, so wee'l hold thee
euer

Imo. You are my Father too, and did releeue me: To see this gracious
season

Cym. All ore-ioy'd

Saue these in bonds, let them be ioyfull too, For they shall taste our
Comfort

Imo. My good Master, I will yet do you seruice

Luc. Happy be you

Cym. The forlorne Souldier, that so Nobly fought He would haue well
becom'd this place, and grac'd The thankings of a King

Post. I am Sir

The Souldier that did company these three In poore beseeming: 'twas a
fitment for

The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he, Speake Iachimo, I had you
downe, and might Haue made you finish

Iach. I am downe againe:

But now my heauie Conscience sinkes my knee, As then your force did.
Take that life, beseech you Which I so often owe: but your Ring first,
And heere the Bracelet of the truest Princesse That euer swore the
Faith

Post. Kneele not to me:

The powre that I haue on you, is to spare you: The malice towards you,
to forgiue you. Liue And deale with others better

Cym. Nobly doom'd:

Wee'l learne our Freenesse of a Sonne-in-Law: Pardon's the word to all

Arui. You holpe vs Sir,

As you did meane indeed to be our Brother, Ioy'd are we, that you are

Post. Your Seruant Princes. Good my Lord of Rome Call forth your
Sooth-sayer: As I slept, me thought Great Iupiter vpon his Eagle
back'd

Appear'd to me, with other sprightly shewes Of mine owne Kindred. When
I wak'd, I found This Labell on my bosome; whose containing Is so from
sense in hardnesse, that I can Make no Collection of it. Let him shew

His skill in the construction

Luc. Philarmonus

Sooth. Heere, my good Lord

Luc. Read, and declare the meaning.

Reades.

When as a Lyons whelpe, shall to himselfe vnknown, without seeking
finde, and bee embrac'd by a peece of tender Ayre: And when from a
stately Cedar shall be lopt branches, which being dead many yeares,
shall after reuiue, bee ioynted to the old Stocke, and freshly grow,
then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britaine be fortunate, and
flourish in Peace and Plentie. Thou Leonatus art the Lyons Whelpe,

The fit and apt Construction of thy name

Being Leonatus, doth import so much:

The peece of tender Ayre, thy vertuous Daughter, Which we call Mollis
Aer, and Mollis Aer

We terme it Mulier; which Mulier I diuine Is this most constant Wife,
who euen now

Answering the Letter of the Oracle,

Vnknowne to you vnsought, were clipt about With this most tender Aire

Cym. This hath some seeming

Sooth. The lofty Cedar, Royall Cymbeline Personates thee: And thy
lopt Branches, point Thy two Sonnes forth: who by Belarius stolne For
many yeares thought dead, are now reuiu'd To the Maiesticke Cedar
ioyn'd; whose Issue Promises Britaine, Peace and Plenty

Cym. Well,

My Peace we will begin: And Caius Lucius, Although the Victor, we
submit to Caesar, And to the Romane Empire; promising

To pay our wonted Tribute, from the which We were disswaded by our
wicked Queene,

Whom heauens in Iustice both on her, and hers, Haue laid most heauy
hand

Sooth. The fingers of the Powres aboue, do tune The harmony of this
Peace: the Vision

Which I made knowne to Lucius ere the stroke Of yet this
scarse-cold-Battaile, at this instant Is full accomplish'd. For the
Romaine Eagle From South to West, on wing soaring aloft Lessen'd her
selfe, and in the Beames o'th' Sun So vanish'd; which fore-shew'd our
Princely Eagle Th' Imperiall Caesar, should againe vnite His Fauour,
with the Radiant Cymbeline,

Which shines heere in the West

Cym. Laud we the Gods,

And let our crooked Smoakes climbe to their Nostrils From our blest
Altars. Publish we this Peace To all our Subiects. Set we forward: Let

A Roman, and a Brittish Ensigne waue

Friendly together: so through Luds-Towne march, And in the Temple of
great Iupiter

Our Peace wee'l ratifie: Seale it with Feasts. Set on there: Neuer was
a Warre did cease (Ere bloodie hands were wash'd) with such a Peace.

Exeunt.



FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF CYMBELINE.









