1: William Shakespeare. Pericles Prince Of Tyre
1: DRAMATIS PERSONAE
1: ANTIOCHUS, king of Antioch.
1: PERICLES, prince of Tyre.
1: HELICANUS, ESCANES,  two lords of Tyre.
1: SIMONIDES, kIng of Pentapolis.
1: CLEON, governor of Tarsus.
1: LYSIMACHUS, governor of Mytilene.
1: CERIMON, a lord of Ephesus.
1: THALIARD, a lord of Antioch.
1: PFIILEMON, servant to Cerimon.
1: LEONINE, servant to Dionyza.
1: Marshal.
1: A Pandar.
1: BOULT, his servant.
1: The Daughter of Antiochus.
1: DIONYZA, wife to Cleon.
1: THAISA, daughter to Simonides.
1: MARINA, daughter to Pericles and Thaisa.
1: LYCHORIDA, nurse to Marina.
1: A Bawd.
1: Lords, Knights, Gentlemen, Sailors, Pirates, Fishermen, and
1: Messengers.
1: DIANA.
1: GOWER, as Chorus.
1: SCENE:  Dispersedly in various countries.
1: ACT I.
1: [Enter GOWER.]
1: [Before the palace of Antioch.]
1: To sing a song that old was sung,
1: From ashes ancient Gower is come;
1: Assuming man's infirmities,
1: To glad your ear, and please your eyes.
1: It hath been sung at festivals,
1: On ember-eves and holy-ales;
1: And lords and ladies in their lives
1: Have read it for restoratives:
1: The purchase is to make men glorious;
1: Et bonum quo antiquius, eo melius.
1: If you, born in these latter times,
1: When wit's more ripe, accept my rhymes,
1: And that to hear an old man sing
1: May to your wishes pleasure bring,
1: I life would wish, and that I might
1: Waste it for you, like taper-light.
1: This Antioch, then, Antiochus the Great
1: Built up, this city, for his chiefest seat;
1: The fairest in all Syria,
1: I tell you what mine authors say:
1: This king unto him took a fere,
1: Who died and left a female heir,
1: So buxom, so blithe, and full of face,
1: As heaven had lent her all his grace;
1: With whom the father liking took,
1: And her to incest did provoke:
1: Bad child; worse father! to entice his own
1: To evil should be done by none:
1: But custom what they did begin
1: Was with long use account no sin.
1: The beauty of this sinful dame
1: Made many princes thither frame,
1: To seek her as a bed-fellow,
1: In marriage-pleasures play-fellow:
1: Which to prevent he made a law,
1: To keep her still, and men in awe,
1: That whoso ask'd her for his wife,
1: His riddle told not, lost his life:
1: So for her many a wight did die,
1: As yon grim looks do testify.
1: What now ensues, to the judgement your eye
1: I give, my cause who lest can justify.
1: [Exit.]
1: SCENE I. Antioch.  A room in the palace.
1: [Enter ANTIOCHUS, PRINCE PERICLES, and followers.]
1: ANTIOCHUS.
1: Young prince of Tyre, you have at large received
1: The danger of the task you undertake.
1: PERICLES.
1: I have, Antiochus, and, with a soul
1: Embolden'd with the glory of her praise,
1: Think death no hazard in this enterprise.
1: ANTIOCHUS.
1: Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride,
1: For the embracements even of Jove himself;
1: At whose conception, till Lucina reign'd,
1: Nature this dowry gave, to glad her presence,
1: The senate-house of planets all did sit,
1: To knit in her their best perfections.
1: [Music. Enter the Daughter of Antiochus.]
1: PERICLES
1: See where she comes, apparell'd like the spring,
1: Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king
1: Of every virtue gives renown to men!
1: Her face the book of praises, where is read
1: Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence
1: Sorrow were ever razed, and testy wrath
1: Could never be her mild companion.
1: You gods that made me man, and sway in love,
1: That have inflamed desire in my breast
1: To taste the fruit of yon celestal tree,
1: Or die in the adventure, be my helps,
1: As I am son and servant to your will,
1: To compass such a boundless happiness!
1: ANTIOCHUS.
1: Prince Pericles, --
1: PERICLES.
1: That would be son to great Antiochus.
1: ANTIOCHUS.
1: Before thee stands this fair Hesperides,
1: With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd;
1: For death-like dragons here affright thee hard:
1: Her face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view
1: Her countless glory, which desert must gain;
1: And which, without desert, because thine eye
1: Presumes to reach, all thy whole heap must die.
1: Yon sometimes famous princes, like thyself,
1: Drawn by report, adventurous by desire,
1: Tell thee, with speechless tongues and semblance pale,
1: That without covering, save yon field of stars,
1: Here they stand Martyrs, slain in Cupid's wars;
1: And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist
1: For going on death's net, whom none resist.
1: PERICLES.
1: Antiochus, I thank thee, who hath taught
1: My frail mortality to know itself,
1: And by those fearful objects to prepare
1: This body, like to them, to what I must;
1: For death remember'd should be like a mirror,
1: Who tells us life 's but breath, to trust it error.
1: I'll make my will then, and, as sick men do
1: Who know the world, see heaven, but, feeling woe,
1: Gripe not at earthly joys as erst they did;
1: So I bequeath a happy peace to you
1: And all good men, as every prince should do;
1: My riches to the earth from whence they came;
1: But my unspotted fire of love to you.
1: [To the daughter of Antiochus.]
1: Thus ready for the way of life or death,
1: I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus.
1: ANTIOCHUS.
1: Scorning advice, read the conclusion, then:
1: Which read and not expounded, 'tis decreed,
1: As these before thee thou thyself shalt bleed.
1: DAUGHTER.
1: Of all say'd yet, mayst thou prove prosperous!
1: Of all say'd yet, I wish thee happiness!
1: PERICLES
1: Like a bold champion, I assume THe lists,
1: Nor ask advice of any other thought
1: But faithfulness and courage.
1: [He reads the riddle.]
1: I am no viper, yet I feed
1: On mother's flesh which did me breed.
1: I sought a husband, in which labour
1: I found that kindness in a father:
1: He's father, son, and husband mild;
1: I mother, wife, and yet his child.
1: How they may be, and yet in two,
1: As you will live, resolve it you.
1: Sharp physic is the last: but, O you powers
1: That give heaven countless eyes to view men's acts,
1: Why cloud they not their sights perpetually,
1: If this be true, which makes me pale to read it?
1: Fair glass of light, I loved you, and could still,
1: [Takes hold of the hand of the Princess.]
1: Were not this glorious casket stored with ill:
1: But I must tell you, now my thoughts revolt;
1: For he's no man on whom perfections wait
1: That, knowing sin within, will touch the gate,
1: You are a fair viol, and your sense the strings;
1: Who, finger'd to make man his lawful music,
1: Would draw heaven down, and all the gods to hearken;
1: But being play'd upon before your time,
1: Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime.
1: Good sooth, I care not for you.
1: ANTIOCHUS.
1: Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy life,
1: For that's an article within our law,
1: As dangerous as the rest.  Tour time's expired:
1: Either expound now, or receive your sentence.
1: PERICLES.
1: Great king,
1: Few love to hear the sins they love to act;
1: 'Twould braid yourself too near for me to tell it.
1: Who has a book of all that monarchs do,
1: He's more secure to keep it shut than shown:
1: For vice repeated is like the wandering wind,
1: Blows dust in others' eyes, to spread itself;
1: And yet the end of all is bought thus dear,
1: The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear
1: To stop the air would hurt them. The blind mole casts
1: Copp'd hills towards heaven, to tell the earth is throng'd
1: By man's oppression; and the poor worm doth die for't.
1: Kind are earth's gods; in vice their law's their will;
1: And if Jove stray, who dares say Jove doth ill?
1: It is enough you know; and it is fit,
1: What being more known grows worse, to smother it.
1: All love the womb that their first bred,
1: Then give my tongue like leave to love my head.
1: ANTIOCHUS.[Aside]
1: Heaven, that I had thy head!  he has found the meaning:
1: But I will gloze with him. -- Young prince of Tyre.
1: Though by the tenour of our strict edict,
1: Your exposition misinterpreting,
1: We might proceed to cancel of your days;
1: Yet hope, succeeding from so fair a tree
1: As your fair self, doth tune us otherwise:
1: Forty days longer we do respite you;
1: If by which time our secret be undone,
1: This mercy shows we'll joy in such a son:
1: And until then your entertain shall be
1: As doth befit our honour and your worth.
1: [Exeunt all but Pericles.]
1: PERACLES.
1: How courtesy would seem to cover sin,
1: When what is done is like an hypocrite,
1: The which is good in nothing but in sight!
1: If it be true that I interpret false,
1: Then were it certain you were not so bad
1: As with foul incest to abuse your soul;
1: Where now you're both a father and a son,
1: By your untimely claspings with your child,
1: Which pleasure fits an husband, not a father;
1: And she an eater of her mother's flesh,
1: By the defiling of her parent's bed;
1: And both like serpents are, who though they feed
1: On sweetest flowers, yet they poison breed.
1: Antioch, farewell! for wisdom sees, those men
1: Blush not in actions blacker than the night,
1: Will shun no course to keep them from the light.
1: One sin, I know, another doth provoke;
1: Murder's as near to lust as flame to smoke:
1: Poison and treason are the hands of sin,
1: Ay, and the targets, to put off the shame:
1: Then, lest my life be cropp'd to keep you clear,
1: By flight I 'II shun the danger which I fear.
1: [Exit.]
1: [Re-enter Antiochus.]
1: ANTIOCHUS.
1: He gath found the meaning, for which we mean
1: To have his head.
1: He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy,
1: Nor tell the world Antiochus doth sin
1: In such a loathed manner;
1: And therefore instantly this prince must die;
1: For by his fall my honour must keep high.
1: Who attends us there?
1: [Enter Thaliard.]
1: THALIARD.
1: Doth your highness call?
1: ANTIOCHUS.
1: Thaliard,
1: You are of our chamber, and our mind partakes
1: Her private actions to your secrecy;
1: And for your faithfulness we will advance you.
1: Thaliard, behold, here's poison, and here's gold;
1: We hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must kill him:
1: It fits thee not to ask the reason why,
1: Because we Bid it.  Say, is it done?
1: THALIARD.
1: My lord,
1: Tis done.
1: ANTIOCHUS.
1: Enough.
1: [Enter a Messenger.]
1: Let your breath cool yourself, telling your haste.
1: MESSENGER.
1: My lord, prlnce Pericles is fled.
1: [Exit.]
1: ANTIOCHUS.
1: As thou
1: Wilt live, fly after: and like an arrow shot
1: From a well-experienced archer hits the mark
1: His eye doth level at, so thou ne'er return
1: Unless thou say 'Prince Pericles is dead.'
1: THALIARD.
1: My lord,
1: If I can get him within my pistol's length,
1: I'll make him sure enough: so, farewell to your highness.
1: ANTIOCHUS.
1: Thaliard! adieu!
1: [Exit Thaliard.]
1: Till
1: Pericles be dead,
1: My heart can lend no succour to my head.
1: [Exit.]
1: SCENE II.  Tyre. A room in the palace.
1: [Enter Pericles.]
1: PERICLES. [To Lords without.]
1: Let none disturb us. -- Why should this change of thoughts,
1: The sad companion, dull-eyed melancholy,
1: Be my so used a guest as not an hour,
1: In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night,
1: The tomb where grief should sleep, can breed me quiet?
1: Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine eyes shun them,
1: And danger, which I fear'd, is at Antioch,
1: Whose arm seems far too short to hit me here:
1: Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits,
1: Nor yet the other's distance comfort me.
1: Then it is thus: the passions of the mind,
1: That have their first conception by mis-dread
1: Have after-nourishment and life by care;
1: And what was first but fear what might he done,
1: Grows elder now and cares it be not done.
1: And so with me: the great Antiochus,
1: 'Gainst whom I am too little to contend,
1: Since he 's so great can make his will his act,
1: Will think me speaking, though I swear to silence;
1: Nor boots it me to say I honour him.
1: If he suspect I may dishonour him:
1: And what may make him blush in being known,
1: He'll stop the course by which it might be known;
1: With hostile forces he'11 o'erspread the land,
1: And with the ostent of war will look so huge,
1: Amazement shall drive courage from the state;
1: Our men be vanquish'd ere they do resist,
1: And subjects punish'd that ne'er thought offence:
1: Which care of them, not pity of myself,
1: Who am no more but as the tops of trees,
1: Which fence the roots they grow by and defend them,
1: Makes both my body pine and soul to languish,
1: And punish that before that he would punish.
1: [Enter Helicanus, with other Lords.]
1: FIRST LORD.
1: Joy and all comfort in your sacred breast!
1: SECOND LORD.
1: And keep your mind, till you return to us,
1: Peaceful and comfortable!
1: HELICANUS.
1: Peace, peace, and give experience tongue.
1: They do abuse the king that flatter him:
1: For flattery is the bellows blows up sin;
1: The thing the which is flatter'd, but a spark,
1: To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing:
1: Whereas reproof, obedient and in order,
1: Fits kings, as they are men, for they may err.
1: When Signior Sooth here does proclaim a peace,
1: He flatters you, makes war upon your life.
1: Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if you please;
1: I cannot be much lower than my knees.
1: PERICLES.
1: All leave us else; but let your cares o'erlook
1: What shipping and what lading is in our haven,
1: And then return to us.
1: [Exeunt Lords.]
1: Helicanus, thou
1: Hast moved us: what seest thou in our looks?
1: HELICANUS.
1: An angry brow, dread lord.
1: PERICLES.
1: If there be such a dart in princes' frowns,
1: How durst thy tongue move anger to our face?
1: HELICANUS.
1: How dare the plants look up to heaven, from whence
1: They have their nourishment?
1: PERICLES.
1: Thou know'st I have power
1: To take thy life from thee.
1: HELICANUS. [Kneeling.]
1: I have ground the axe myself;
1: Do you but strike the blow.
1: PERICLES.
1: Rise, prithee, rise.
1: Sit down: thou art no flatterer:
1: I thank thee for it; and heaven forbid
1: That kings should let their ears hear their faults hid!
1: Fit counsellor and servant for a prince,
1: Who by thy wisdom makest a prince thy servant,
1: What wouldst thou have me do?
1: HELICANUS.
1: To bear with patience
1: Such griefs as you yourself do lay upon yourself.
1: PERICLES.
1: Thou speak'st like a physician, Helicanus,
1: That minister'st a potion unto me
1: That thou wouldst tremble to receive thyself.
1: Attend me, then: I went to Antioch,
1: And there as thou know'st, against the face of death,
1: I sought the purchase of a glorious beauty,
1: From whence an issue I might propagate,
1: Are arms to princes, and bring joys to subjects.
1: Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder;
1: The rest -- hark in thine ear -- as black as incest:
1: Which by my knowledge found, the sinful father
1: Seem'd not to strike, but smooth: but thou know'st this,
1: 'Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss.
1: Which fear so grew in me, I hither fled,
1: Under the covering of a careful night,
1: Who seem'd my good protector; and, being here,
1: Bethought me what was past, what might succeed.
1: I knew him tyrannous; and tyrants' fears
1: Decrease not, but grow faster than the years:
1: And should he doubt it, as no doubt he doth,
1: That I should open to the listening air
1: How many worthy princes' bloods were shed,
1: To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope,
1: To lop that doubt, he'll fill this land with arms,
1: And make pretence of wrong that I have done him;
1: When all, for mine, if I may call offence,
1: Must feel war's blow, who spares not innocence:
1: Which love to all, of which thyself art one,
1: Who now reprovest me for it, --
1: HELICANUS.
1: Alas, sir!
1: PERICLES.
1: Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood from my cheeks,
1: Musings into my mind, with thousand doubts
1: How I might stop this tempest ere it came;
1: And finding little comfort to relieve them,
1: I thought it princely charity to grieve them.
1: HELICANUS.
1: Well, my lord, since you have given me leave to speak,
1: Freely will I speak. Antiochus you fear,
1: And justly too, I think, you fear the tyrant,
1: Who either by public war or private treason
1: Will take away your life.
1: Therefore, my lord, go travel for a while,
1: Till that his rage and anger be forgot,
1: Or till the Destinies do cut his thread of life.
1: Your rule direct to any; if to me,
1: Day serves not light more faithful than I'll be.
1: PERICLES.
1: I do not doubt thy faith;
1: But should he wrong my liberties in my absence?
1: HELCANUS.
1: We'll mingle our bloods together in the earth,
1: From whence we had our being and our birth.
1: PERICLES.
1: Tyre, I now look from thee then, and to Tarsus
1: Intend my travel, where I'll hear from thee;
1: And by whose letters I'll dispose myself.
1: The care I had and have of subjects' good
1: On thee I lay, whose wisdom's strength can bear it.
1: I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath:
1: Who shuns not to break one will sure crack both:
1: But in our orbs we'll live so round and safe,
1: That time of both this truth shall ne'er convince,
1: Thou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: SCENE III.  Tyre.  An ante-chamber in the Palace.
1: [Enter Thaliard.]
1: THALIARD.
1: So, this is Tyre, and this the court. Here must I Kill King
1: Pericles; and if I do it not, I am sure to be hanged at home:
1: 'tis dangerous.  Well, I perceive he was a wise fellow, and
1: had good discretion, that, being bid to ask what he would of
1: the king, desired he might know none of his secrets: now do I
1: see he had some reason for 't; for if a king bid a man be a
1: villain, he's bound by the indenture of his oath to be one.
1: Hush! here come the lords of Tyre.
1: [Enter Helicanus and Escanes, with other Lords of Tyre.]
1: HELICANUS.
1: You shall not need, my fellow peers of Tyre,
1: Further to question me of your king's departure:
1: His seal'd commission, left in trust with me,
1: Doth speak sufficiently he 's gone to travel.
1: THALIARD. [Aside.]
1: How! the king gone!
1: HELICANUS.
1: If further yet you will be satisfied,
1: Why, as it were unlicensed of your loves,
1: He would depart, I 'II give some light unto you.
1: Being at Antioch --
1: THALIARD. [Aside.]
1: What from Antioch?
1: HELICANUS.
1: Royal Antiochus -- on what cause I know not
1: Took some displeasure at him; at least he judged so:
1: And doubting lest that he had err'd or sinn'd,
1: To show his sorrow, he 'ld correct himself;
1: So puts himself unto the shipman's toil,
1: With whom each minute threatens life or death.
1: THALIARD. [Aside.]
1: Well, I perceive
1: I shall not be hang'd now, although I would;
1: But since he 's gone, the king's seas must please
1: He  'scaped the land, to perish at the sea.
1: I 'll present myself.  Peace to the lords of Tyre!
1: HELICANUS.
1: Lord Thaliard from Antiochus is welcome.
1: THALIARD.
1: From him I come
1: With message unto princely Pericles;
1: But since my landing I have understood
1: Your lord has betook himself to unknown travels,
1: My message must return from whence it came.
1: HELICANUS.
1: We have no reason to desire it,
1: Commended to our master, not to us:
1: Yet, ere you shall depart, this we desire,
1: As friends to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: SCENE IV. Tarsus. A room in the Governor's house.
1: [Enter Cleon, the governor of Tarsus, with Dionyza, and others.]
1: CLEON.
1: My Dionyza, shall we rest us here,
1: And by relating tales of others' griefs,
1: See if 'twill teach us to forqet our own?
1: DIONYZA.
1: That were to blow at fire in hope to quench it;
1: For who digs hills because they do aspire
1: Throws down one mountain to cast up a higher.
1: O my distressed lord, even such our griefs are;
1: Here they're but felt, and seen with mischief's eyes,
1: But like to groves, being topp'd, they higher rise.
1: CLEON.
1: O Dionyza,
1: Who wanteth food, and will not say he wants it,
1: Or can conceal his hunger till he famish?
1: Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep
1: Our woes into the air; our eyes do weep,
1: Till tongues fetch breath that may proclaim them louder;
1: That, if heaven slumber while their creatures want,
1: They may awake their helps to comfort them.
1: I'll then discourse our woes, felt several years,
1: And wanting breath to speak help me with tears.
1: DIONYZA.
1: I'll do my best, sir.
1: CLEON.
1: This Tarsus, o'er which I have the government,
1: A city on whom plenty held full hand,
1: For riches strew'd herself even in the streets;
1: Whose towers bore heads so high they kiss'd the clouds,
1: And strangers ne'er beheld but wonder'd at;
1: Whose men and dames so jetted and adorn'd,
1: Like one another's glass to trim them by:
1: Their tables were stored full, to glad the sight,
1: And not so much to feed on as delight;
1: All poverty was scorn'd, and pride so great,
1: The name of help grew odious to repeat.
1: DIONYZA.
1: O, 'tis too true.
1: CLEON.
1: But see what heaven can do!  By this our change,
1: These mouths, who but of late, earth, sea, and air,
1: Were all too little to content and please,
1: Although they gave their creatures in abundance,
1: As houses are defiled for want of use,
1: They are now starved for want of exercise:
1: Those palates who, not yet two sumMers younger,
1: Must have inventions to delight the taste,
1: Would now be glad of bread, and beg for it:
1: Those mothers who, to nousle up their babes,
1: Thought nought too curious, are ready now
1: To eat those little darlings whom they loved.
1: So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife
1: Draw lots who first shall die to lengthen life:
1: Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping;
1: Here many sink, yet those which see them fall
1: Have scarce strength left to give them burial.
1: Is not this true?
1: DIONYZA.
1: Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it.
1: CLEON.
1: O, let those cities that of plenty's cup
1: And her prosperities so largely taste,
1: With their superflous riots, hear these tears!
1: The misery of Tarsus may be theirs.
1: [Enter a Lord.]
1: LORD.
1: Where's the lord governor?
1: CLEON.
1: Here.
1: Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring'st in haste,
1: For comfort is too far for us to expect.
1: LORD.
1: We have descried, upon our neighbouring shore,
1: A portly sail of ships make hitherward.
1: CLEON.
1: I thought as much.
1: One sorrow never comes but brings an heir,
1: That may succeed as his inheritor;
1: And so in ours: some neighbouring nation,
1: Taking advantage of our misery,
1: Math stuff'd these hollow vessels with their power,
1: To beat us down, the which are down already;
1: And make a conquest of unhappy me,
1: Whereas no glory's got to overcome.
1: LORD.
1: That's the least fear; for, by the semblance
1: Of their white flags display'd, they bring us peace,
1: And come to us as favourers, not as foes.
1: CLEON.
1: Thou speak'st like him's untutor'd to repeat:
1: Who makes the fairest show means most deceit.
1: But bring they what they will and what they can,
1: What need we fear?
1: The ground's the lowest, and we are half way there.
1: Go tell their general we attend him here,
1: To know for what he comes, and whence he comes,
1: And what he craves.
1: LORD.
1: I go, my lord.
1: [Exit.]
1: CLEON.
1: Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist;
1: If wars, we are unable to resist.
1: [Enter Pericles with Attendants.]
1: PERICLES.
1: Lord governor, for so we hear you are,
1: Let not our ships and number of our men
1: Be like a beacon fired to amaze your eyes.
1: We have heard your miseries as far as Tyre,
1: And seen the desolation of your streets:
1: Nor come we to add sorrow to your tears,
1: But to relieve them of their heavy load;
1: And these our ships, you happily may think
1: Are like the Trojan horse was stuff'd within
1: With bloody veins, expecting overthrow,
1: Are stored with corn to make your needy bread,
1: And give them life whom hunger starved half dead.
1: ALL.
1: The gods of Greece protect you!
1: And we'll pray for you.
1: PERICLES.
1: Arise, I pray you, rise:
1: We do not look for reverence, but for love,
1: And harbourage for ourself, our ships, and men.
1: CLEON.
1: The which when any shall not gratify,
1: Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought,
1: Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves,
1: The curse of heaven and men succeed their evils!
1: Till when, -- the which I hope shall ne'er be seen, --
1: Your grace is welcome to our town and us.
1: PERICLES.
1: Which welcome we'll accept; feast here awhile,
1: Until our stars that frown lend us a smile.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: ACT II.
1: [Enter Gower.]
1: GOWER.
1: Mere have you seen a mighty king
1: His child, I wis, to incest bring;
1: A better prince and benign lord,
1: That will prove awful both in deed word.
1: Be quiet then as men should be,
1: Till he hath pass'd necessity.
1: I'll show you those in troubles reign,
1: Losing a mite, a mountain gain.
1: The good in conversation,
1: To whom I give my benison,
1: Is still at Tarsus, where each man
1: Thinks all is writ he speken can;
1: And, to remember what he does,
1: Build his statue to make him glorious:
1: But tidings to the contrary
1: Are brought your eyes; what need speak I?
1: DUMB SHOW.
1: [Enter at one door Pericles talking with Cleon talking with
1: CLEON; all the train with them. Enter at another door a
1: Gentleman, with a letter to Pericles; Pericles shows the
1: letter to Cleon; gives the Messenger a reward, and knights
1: him.  Exit Pericles at one door, and Cleon at another.]
1: Good Helicane, that stay'd at home.
1: Not to eat honey like a drone
1: From others' labours; for though he strive
1: To killen bad, keep good alive;
1: And to fulfil his prince' desire,
1: Sends word of all that haps in Tyre:
1: How Thaliard came full bent with sin
1: And had intent to murder him;
1: And that in Tarsus was not best
1: Longer for him to make his rest.
1: He, doing so, put forth to seas,
1: Where when men been, there's seldom ease;
1: For now the wind begins to blow;
1: Thunder above and deeps below
1: Make such unquiet, that the ship
1: Should house him safe is wreck'd and split;
1: And he, good prince, having all lost,
1: By waves from coast to coast is tost:
1: All perishen of man, of pelf,
1: Ne aught escapen but himself;
1: Till fortune, tired with doing bad,
1: Threw him ashore, to give him glad:
1: And here he comes. What shall be next,
1: Pardon old Gower, -- this longs the text.
1: [Exit.]
1: SCENE I. Pentapolis. An open place by the sea-side.
1: [Enter Pericles, wet.]
1: PERICLES.
1: Yet cease your ire, you angry stars of heaven!
1: Wind, rain, and thunder, remember, earthly man
1: Is but a substance that must yield to you;
1: And I, as fits my nature, do obey you:
1: Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rocks,
1: Wash'd me from shore to shore, and left me breath
1: Nothing to think on but ensuing death:
1: Let it suffice the greatness of your powers
1: To have bereft a prince of all his fortunes;
1: And having thrown him  from your watery grave,
1: Here to have death in peace is all he'll crave.
1: [Enter three Fishermen.]
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: What, ho, Pilch!
1: SECOND FISHERMAN.
1: Ha, come and bring away the nets!
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: What, Patch-breech, I say!
1: THIRD FISHERMAN.
1: What say you, master?
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: Look how thou stirrest now! come away, or I'll fetch thee with a
1: wanion.
1: THIRD FISHERMAN.
1: 'Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor men that were cast away
1: before us even now.
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: Alas, poor souls, it grieved my heart to hear what pitiful cries
1: they made to us to help them, when, well-a-day, we could scarce
1: help ourselves.
1: THIRD FISHERMAN.
1: Nay, master, said not I as much when I saw the porpus how he
1: bounced and tumbled? they say they're half fish, half flesh:
1: a plague on them, they ne'er come but I look to be washed.
1: Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea.
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: Why, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones: I
1: can compare our rich misers to nothing so fitly as to a whale;
1: a' plays and tumbles, driving the poor fry before him, and at
1: last devours them all at a mouthful. such whales have I heard
1: on o' the land, who never leave gaping till they they've
1: swallowed the whole parish, church, steeple, bells, and all.
1: PERICLES. [Aside.]
1: A pretty moral.
1: THIRD FISHERMAN.
1: But, master, if I had been the sexton, I would have been that day
1: in the belfry.
1: SECOND FISHERMAN.
1: Why, man?
1: THIRD FISHERMAN.
1: Because he should have swallowed me too; and when I had been in
1: his belly, I would have kept such a jangling of the bells, that
1: he should never have left, till he cast bells, steeple, church,
1: and parish, up again.  But if the good King Simonides were of
1: my mind, --
1: PERICLES. [Aside.]
1: Simonides!
1: THIRD FISHERMAN.
1: We would purge the land of these drones, that rob the bee of her
1: honey.
1: PERICLES. [Aside.]
1: How from the finny subjec of the sea
1: These fishers tell the infirmities of men;
1: And from their watery empire recollect
1: All that may men approve or men detect!
1: Peace be at your labour, honest fishermen.
1: SECOND FISHERMAN.
1: Honest! good fellow, what's that; If it be a day fits you, search
1: out of the calendar, and nobody look after it.
1: PERICLES.
1: May see the sea hath cast upon your coast.
1: SECOND FISHERMAN.
1: What a drunken knave was the sea to cast thee in our way!
1: PERICLES.
1: A man whom both the waters and the wind,
1: In that vast tennis-court, have made the ball
1: For them to play upon, entreats you pity him;
1: He asks of you, that never used to beg.
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: No, friend, cannot you beg? Here's them in our country of Greece
1: gets more with begging than we can do with working.
1: SECOND FISHERMAN.
1: Canst thou catch any fishes, then?
1: PERICLES.
1: I never practised it.
1: SECOND FISHERMAN.
1: Nay, then thou wilt starve, sure; for here's nothing to be got
1: now-a-days, unless thou canst fish for 't.
1: PERICLES.
1: What I have been I have forgot to know;
1: But what I am, want teaches me to think on:
1: A man throng'd up with cold: my veins are chill,
1: And have no more of life than may suffice
1: To give my tongue that heat to ask your help;
1: Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead,
1: For that I am a man, pray see me buried.
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: Die quoth-a?  Now gods forbid!  I have a gown here; come, put it
1: on; keep thee warm. Now, afore me, a handsome fellow!  Come,
1: thou shalt go home, and we'll have flesh for holidays, fish for
1: fasting-days, and moreo'er puddings and flap-jacks, and thou
1: shalt be welcome.
1: PERICLES.
1: I thank you, sir.
1: SECOND FISHERMAN.
1: Hark you, my friend; you said you could not beg.
1: PERICLES.
1: I did but crave.
1: SECOND FISHERMAN.
1: But crave!  Then I'll turn craver too, and so I shall 'scape
1: whipping.
1: PERICLES.
1: Why, are your beggars whipped, then?
1: SECOND FISHERMAN.
1: O, not all, my friend, not all; for if all your beggars were
1: whipped, I would wish no better office than to be beadle.
1: But, master, I'll go draw up the net.
1: [Exit with Third Fisherman.]
1: PERICLES. [Aside.]
1: How well this honest mirth becomes their 1abour!
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: Hark you, sir, do you know where ye are?
1: PERICLES.
1: Not well.
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: Why, I'll tell you: this is called Pentapolis, and our king the
1: good Simonides.
1: PERICLES.
1: The good King Simonides, do you call him?
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: Ay, sir; and he deserves so to be called for his peaceable reign
1: and good government.
1: PERICLES.
1: He is a happy king, since he gains from his subjects the name of
1: good government.  How far is his court distant from this shore?
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: Marry sir, half a day's journey: and I'll tell you, he hath a
1: fair daughter, and to-morrow is her birth-day; and there are
1: princes and knights come from all parts of the world to just and
1: tourney for her love.
1: PERICLES.
1: Were my fortunes equal to my desires, I could wish to make one
1: there.
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: O, sir, things must be as they may; and what a man cannot get, he
1: may lawfully deal for -- his wife' soul.
1: [Re-enter Second and Third Fishermen, drawing up a net.]
1: SECOND FISHERMAN.
1: Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net, like a poor
1: man's right in the law; 'twill hardly come out.  Ha! bots on't,
1: 'tis come at last, and 'tis turned to a rusty armour.
1: PERICLES.
1: An armour, friends! I pray you, let me see it.
1: Thanks, fortune, yet, that, after all my crosses,
1: Thou givest me somewhat to repair myself,
1: And though it was mine own, part of my heritage,
1: Which my dead father did bequeath to me,
1: With this strict charge, even as he left his life.
1: 'Keep it, my Pericles; it hath been a shield
1: 'Twixt me and death;' -- and pointed to this brace; --
1: For that it saved me, keep it; in like necessity --
1: The which the gods protect thee from! -- may defend thee.'
1: It kept where I kept, I so dearly loved it;
1: Till the rough seas, that spare not any man,
1: Took it in rage, though calm'd have given't again:
1: I thank thee for 't: my shipwreck now's no ill,
1: Since I have here my father's gift in's will.
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: What mean you' sir?
1: PERICLES.
1: To beg of you, kind friends, this coat of worth,
1: For it was sometime target to a king;
1: I know it by this mark. He loved me dearly,
1: And for his sake I wish the having of it;
1: And that you'ld guide me to your sovereign court,
1: Where with it I may appear a gentleman;
1: And if that ever my fortune's better,
1: I'll pay your bounties; till then rest your debtor.
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: Why, wilt thou tourney for the lady?
1: PERICLES.
1: I'll show the virtue I have borne in arms.
1: FIRST FISHERMAN.
1: Why, do'e take it, and the gods give thee good on 't!
1: SECOND FISHERMAN.
1: Ay, but hark you, my friend; 'twas we that made up this garment
1: through the rough seams of the waters: there are certain
1: condolements, certain vails.  I hope, sir, if you thrive, you'll
1: remember from whence you had it.
1: PERICLES.
1: Believe't I will.
1: By your furtherance I am clothed in steel;
1: And, spite of all the rapture of the sea,
1: This jewel holds his building on my arm:
1: Unto thy value I will mount myself
1: Upon a courser, whose delightful steps
1: Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread.
1: Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided
1: Of a pair of bases.
1: SECOND FISHERMAN.
1: We'll sure provide: thou shalt have my best gown to make thee a
1: pair; and I'll bring thee to the court myself.
1: PERICLES.
1: Then honour be but a goal to my will,
1: This day I'll rise, or else add ill to ill.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: SCENE II. The same. A public way, or platform leading to the
1: lists.  A pavilion by the side of it for the reception of the
1: King, Princess, Lords, etc.
1: [Enter Simonides, Lords and Attendants.]
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Are the knights ready to begin the triumph?
1: FIRST LORD.
1: They are, my liege;
1: And stay your coming to present themselves.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Return them, we are ready; and our daughter,
1: In honour of whose birth these triumphs are,
1: Sits here, like beauty's child, whom nature gat
1: For men to see, and seeing wonder at.
1: [Exit a Lord.]
1: THALIARD.
1: It pleaseth you1 my royal father, to express
1: My commendations great, whose merit's less.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: It's fit it should be so; for princes are
1: A model, which heaven makes like to itself:
1: As jewels lose their glory if neglected,
1: So princes their renowns if not respected.
1: 'Tis now your honour, daughter, to explain
1: The labour of each knight in his device.
1: THALIARD.
1: Which, to preserve mine honour, I'll perform.
1: [Enter a Knight; he passes over, and his Squire presents his
1: shield to the Princess.]
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Who is the first that doth prefer himself?
1: THALIARD.
1: A knight of Sparta, my renowned father;
1: And the device he bears upon his shield
1: Is a black Ethiope reaching at the sun:
1: The word, 'Lux tua vita mihi.'
1: SIMONIDES.
1: He loves you well that holds his life of you.
1: [The Second Knight passes over.]
1: Who is the second that presents himself?
1: THALIARD.
1: A prince of Macedon, my royal father;
1: And the device he bears upon his shield
1: Is an arm'd knight that's conquer'd by a lady;
1: The motto thus, in Spanish, 'Piu por dulzura que por fuerza.'
1: [The Third Knight passes over.]
1: SIMONIDES.
1: And what's the third?
1: THALIARD.
1: The third of Antioch;
1: And his device, a wreath of chivalry;
1: The word, 'Me pompae provexit apex.'
1: [The Fourth Knight passes over.]
1: SIMONIDES.
1: What is the fourth?
1: THALIARD.
1: A burning torch that's turned upside down;
1: The word, 'Quod me alit, me extinguit.'
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Which shows that beauty hath his power and will,
1: Which can as well inflame as it can kill.
1: [The Fifth Knight passes over.]
1: THALIARD.
1: The fifth, an hand environed with clouds,
1: Holding out gold that's by the touchstone tried;
1: The motto thus, 'Sic spectanda fides.'
1: [The Sixith Knight, Pericles, passes over.]
1: SIMONIDES.
1: And what's
1: The sixth and last, the which the knight himself
1: With such a graceful courtesy deliver'd?
1: THALIARD.
1: He seems to be a stranger; but his present is
1: A wither'd branch, that's only green at top;
1: The motto, 'In hac spe vivo.'
1: SIMONIDES.
1: A pretty moral;
1: From the dejected state wherein he is,
1: He hopes by you his fortunes yet may flourish.
1: FIRST LORD.
1: He had need mean better than his outward show
1: Can any way speak in his just commend;
1: For by his rusty outside he appears
1: To have practised more the whipstock than the lance.
1: SECOND LORD.
1: He well may be a stranger, for he comes
1: To an honour'd triumph strangely furnished.
1: THIRD LORD.
1: And on set purpose let his armour rust
1: Until this day, to scour it in the dust.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan
1: The outward habit by the inward man.
1: But stay, the knights are coming: we will withdraw
1: Into the gallery.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: [Great shouts within, and all cry 'The mean knight!']
1: SCENE III.  The same. A hall of state: a banquet prepared.
1: [Enter Simonides, Thaisa, Lords, Attendants, and Knights, from
1: tilting.]
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Knights,
1: To say you're welcome were superfluous.
1: To place upon the volume of your deeds,
1: As in a title-page, your worth in arms,
1: Were more than you expect, or more than's fit,
1: Since every worth in show commends itself.
1: Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast:
1: You are princes and my guests.
1: THAISA.
1: But you, my knight and guest;
1: To whom this wreath of victory I give,
1: And crown you king of this day's happiness.
1: PERICLES.
1: 'Tis more by fortune, lady, than by merit.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Call it by what you will, the day is yours;
1: And here, I hope, is none that envies it.
1: In framing an artist, art hath thus decreed,
1: To make some good, but others to exceed;
1: And you are her labour'd scholar. Come queen of the feast, --
1: For, daughter, so you are, -- here take your place:
1: Marshal the rest, as they deserve their grace.
1: KNIGHTS.
1: We are honour'd much by good Simonides.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Your presence glads our days; honour we love;
1: For who hates honour hates the gods above.
1: MARSHALL.
1: Sir, yonder is your place.
1: PERICLES.
1: Some other is more fit.
1: FIRST KNIGHT.
1: Contend not, sir; for we are gentlemen
1: That neither in our hearts nor outward eyes
1: Envy the great nor do the low despise.
1: PERICLES.
1: You are right courteous knights.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Sit, sir, sit.
1: PERICLES.
1: By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts,
1: These cates resist me, she but thought upon.
1: THAISA.
1: By Juno, that is queen of marriage,
1: All viands that I eat do seem unsavoury,
1: Wishing him my meat. Sure, he's a gallant gentleman.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: He's but a country gentleman;
1: Has done no more than other knights have done;
1: Has broken a staff or so; so let it pass.
1: THAISA.
1: To me he seems like diamond to glass.
1: PERICLES.
1: Yon king's to me like to my father's picture,
1: Which tells me in that glory once he was;
1: Had princes sit, like stars, about his throne,
1: And he the sun, for them to reverence;
1: None that beheld him, but, like lesser lights,
1: Did vail their crowns to his supremacy:
1: Where now his son's like a glow-worm in the night,
1: The which hath fire in darkness, none in light:
1: Whereby I see that Time's the king of men,
1: He's both their parent, and he is their grave,
1: And gives them what he will, not what they crave.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: What, are you merry, knights?
1: KNIGHTS.
1: Who can be other in this royal presence?
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Here, with a cup that's stored unto the brim, --
1: As you do love, fill to your mistress' lips, --
1: We drink this health to you.
1: KNIGHTS.
1: We thank your grace.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Yet pause awhile:
1: Yon knight doth sit too melancholy,
1: As if the entertainment in our court
1: Had not a show might countervail his worth.
1: Note it not you, Thaisa?
1: THAISA.
1: What is it
1: To me, my father?
1: SIMONIDES.
1: O attend, my daughter:
1: Princes in this should live like god's above,
1: Who freely give to every one that comes
1: To honour them:
1: And princes not doing so are like to gnats,
1: Which make a sound, but kill'd are wonder'd at.
1: Therefore to make his entrance more sweet,
1: Here, say we drink this standing-bowl of wine to him.
1: THAISA.
1: Alas, my father, it befits not me
1: Unto a stranger knight to be so bold:
1: He may my proffer take for an offence,
1: Since men take women's gifts for impudence.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: How!
1: Do as I bid you, or you'll move me else.
1: THAISA. [Aside]
1: Now, by the gods, he could not please me better.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: And furthermore tell him, we desire to know of him,
1: Of whence he is, his name and parentage.
1: THAISA.
1: The king my father, sir, has drunk to you.
1: PERICLES.
1: I thank him.
1: THAISA.
1: Wishing it so much blood unto your life.
1: PERICLES.
1: I thank both him and you, and pledge him freely.
1: THAISA.
1: And further he desires to know of you,
1: Of whence you are, your name and parentage.
1: PERICLES.
1: A gentleman of Tyre; my name, Pericles;
1: My education been in arts and arms;
1: Who, looking for adventures in the world,
1: Was by the rough seas reft of ships and men,
1: And after shipwreck driven upon this shore.
1: THAISA.
1: He thanks your grace; names himself Pericles,
1: A gentleman of Tyre,
1: Who only by misfortune of the seas
1: Bereft of ships and men, cast on this shore.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Now, by the gods, I pity his misfortune,
1: And will awake him from his melancholy.
1: Come, gentlemen, we sit too long on trifles,
1: And waste the time, which looks for other revels.
1: Even in your armours, as you are address'd,
1: Will very well become a soldier's dance.
1: I will not have excuse, with saying this,
1: Loud music is too harsh for ladies' heads
1: Since they love men in arms as well as beds.
1: [The Knights dance.]
1: So, this was well ask'd, 'twas so well perform'd.
1: Come, sir;
1: Here is a lady which wants breathing too:
1: And I have heard you nights of Tyre
1: Are excellent in making ladies trip;
1: And that their measures are as exceltent.
1: PERICLES.
1: In those that practise them they are, my lord.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: O, that's as much as you would be denied
1: Of your fair courtesy.
1: [The Knights and Ladies dance.]
1: Unclasp, unclasp:
1: Thanks gentlemen, to all; all have done well.
1: [To Pericles.]
1: But you the you the best. Pages and lights to conduct
1: These knights unto their several lodging.
1: [To Pericles.]
1: Yours, sir,
1: We have given order to be next our own.
1: PERICLES.
1: I am at your grace's pleasure.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Princes, it is too late to talk of love;
1: And that's the mark I know you level at:
1: Therefore each one betake him to his rest;
1: To-morrow all for speeding do their best.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: SCENE IV.  Tyre.  A room in the Govenor's house.
1: [Enter Helicanus and Escanes.]
1: HELICANUS.
1: No, Escanes, know this of me,
1: Antiochus from incest lived not free:
1: For which, the most high gods not minding longer
1: To withhold the vengeance that they had in store
1: Due to this heinous capital offence,
1: Even in the height and pride of all his glory,
1: When he was seated in a chariot
1: Of an inestimable value, and his daughter with him,
1: A fire from heavn came and shrivell'd up
1: Their bodies, even to loathing; for they so stunk,
1: That all those eyes adored them ere their fall
1: Scorn now their hand should give them burial.
1: ESCANES.
1: 'Twas very strange
1: HELICANUS.
1: And yet but justice; for though
1: This king were great; his greatness was no guard.
1: To bar heaven's shaft, but sin had his reward.
1: ESCANES.
1: 'Tis very true.
1: [Enter two or three Lords.]
1: FIRST LORD.
1: See, not a man in private conference
1: Or council has respect with him but he.
1: SECOND LORD.
1: It shall no longer grieve with out reproof.
1: THIRD LORD.
1: And cursed be he that will not second it.
1: FIRST LORD.
1: Follow me, then.  Lord Helicane, a word.
1: HELICANE.
1: With me? and welcome: happy day, my lords.
1: FIRST LORD.
1: Know that our griefs are risen to the top,
1: And now at length they overflow their banks.
1: HELICANE.
1: Your griefs! for what? wrong not your prince your love.
1: FIRST LORD.
1: Wrong not yourself, then, noble Helicane;
1: But if the prince do live, let us salute him.
1: Or know what ground's made happy by his breath.
1: If in the world he live, we'll seek him there;
1: And be resolved he lives to govern us,
1: Or dead, give's cause to mourn his funeral,
1: And leave us to our free election.
1: SECOND LORD.
1: Whose death indeed 's the strongest in our censure:
1: And knowing this kingdom is without a head, --
1: Like goodly buildings left without a roof
1: Soon fall to ruin, -- your noble self,
1: That best know how to rulle and how to reign,
1: We thus submit unto, -- our sovereign.
1: ALL.
1: Live, noble Helicane!
1: HELICANUS.
1: For honour's cause, forbear your suffrages:
1: If that you love Prince Pericles, forbear.
1: Take I your wish, I leap into the seas,
1: Where's hourly trouble for a minute's ease.
1: A twelve month longer, let me entreat you to
1: Forbear the absence of your king;
1: If in which time expired, he not return,
1: I shall with aged patience bear your yoke.
1: But if I cannot win you to this love,
1: Go search like nobles, like noble subjects,
1: And in your search spend your adventurous worth;
1: Whom if you find, and win unto return,
1: You shall like diamonds sit about his crown.
1: FIRST LORD.
1: To wisdom he's a fool that will not yield;
1: And since Lord Helicane enjoineth us,
1: We with our travels will endeavour us.
1: HELICANUS.
1: Then you love us, we you, and we'll clasp hands:
1: When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: SCENE V. Pentapolis. A room in the palace.
1: Enter Simonides, reading a letter at one door: the Knights meet
1: him.]
1: FIRST KNIGHT.]
1: Good morrow to the good Simonides.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Knights, from my daughter this I let you know,
1: That for this twelvemonth she'll not undertake
1: A married life.
1: Her reason to herself is only known,
1: Which yet from her by no means can I get.
1: SECOND KNIGHT.
1: May we not get access to her, my lord?
1: SIMONIDES.
1: 'Faith, by no means; she hath so strictly tied
1: Her to her chamber, that 'tis impossible.
1: One twelve moons more she'll wear Diana's livery;
1: This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd,
1: And on her virgin honour will not break it.
1: THIRD KNIGHT.
1: Loath to bid farewell, we take our leaves.
1: [Exeunt Knights.]
1: SIMONIDES.
1: So,
1: They are well dispatch'd; now to my daughter's letter:
1: She tells me here, she'll wed the stranger knight.
1: Or never more to view nor day nor light.
1: 'Tis well, mistress; your choice agrees with mine;
1: I like that well: nay, how absolute she's in it,
1: Not minding whether I dislike or no!
1: Well, I do commend her choice;
1: And will no longer have it delay'd.
1: Soft! here he comes: I must dissemble it.
1: [Enter Pericles.]
1: PERICLES.
1: All fortune to the good Simonides!
1: SIMONIDES.
1: To you as much, sir!  I am beholding to you
1: For your sweet music this last night: I do
1: Protest my ears were never better fed
1: With such delightful pleasing harmony.
1: PERICLES.
1: It is your grace's pleasure to commend;
1: Not my desert.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Sir, you are music's master.
1: PERICLES.
1: The worst of all her scholars, my good lord.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Let me ask you one thing:
1: What do you think of my daughter, sir?
1: PERICLES.
1: A most virtuous princess.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: And she is fair too, is she not?
1: PERICLES.
1: As a fair day in summer, wondrous fair.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Sir, my daughter thinks very well of you;
1: Ay, so well, that you must be her master,
1: And she will be your scholar: therefore look to it.
1: PERICLES.
1: I am unworthy for her schoolmaster.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: She thinks not so; peruse this writing else.
1: PERICLES. [Aside.]
1: A letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre!
1: 'Tis the king's subtilty to have my life.
1: O, seek not to entrap me, gracious lord,
1: A stranger and distressed gentleman,
1: That never aim'd so high to love your daughter,
1: But bent all offices to honour her.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter, and thou art
1: A villain.
1: PERICLES.
1: By the gods, I have not:
1: Never did thought of mine levy offence;
1: Nor never did my actions yet commence
1: A deed might gain her love or your displeasure.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Traitor, thou liest.
1: PERICLES.
1: Traitor!
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Ay, traitor;
1: PERICLES.
1: Even in his throat -- unless it be the king --
1: That calls me traitor, I return the lie.
1: SIMONIDES. [Aside.]
1: Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage.
1: PERICLES.
1: My actions are  as noble as my thoughts,
1: That never relish'd of a base descent.
1: I came unto your court for honour's cause,
1: And not to be a rebel to her state;
1: And he that otherwise accounts of me,
1: This sword shall prove he's honour's enemy.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: No?
1: Here comes my daughter, she can witness it.
1: [Enter Thaisa.]
1: PERICLES.
1: Then, as you are as virtuous as fair,
1: Resolve your angry father, if my tongue
1: Did e'er solicit, or my hand subscribe
1: To any syllable that made love to you.
1: THAISA.
1: Why, sir, say if you had,
1: Who takes offence at that would make me glad?
1: SIMONIDES.
1: Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory?
1: [Aside.]
1: I am glad on't with all my heart. --
1: I'll tame you; I'll bring you in subjection.
1: Will you, not having my consent,
1: Bestow your love and your affections
1: Upon a stranger?
1: [Aside.]
1: who, for aught I know,
1: May be, nor can I think the contrary,
1: As great in blood as I myself. --
1: Therefore hear you, mistress; either frame
1: Your will to mine, -- and you, sir, hear you,
1: Either be ruled by me, or I will make you --
1: Man and wife:
1: Nay, come, your hands and lips must seal it too:
1: And being join'd, I'll thus your hopes destroy;
1: And for a further grief, -- God give you joy! --
1: What, are you both pleased?
1: THAISA.
1: Yes, if you love me, sir.
1: PERICLES.
1: Even as my life my blood that fosters it.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: What, are you both agreed?
1: BOTH.
1: Yes, if it please your majesty.
1: SIMONIDES.
1: It pleaseth me so well, that I will see you wed;
1: And then with what haste you can get you to bed.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: ACT III.
1: [Enter Gower.]
1: GOWER.
1: Now sleep yslaked hath the rout;
1: No din but snores the house about,
1: Made louder by the o'er-fed breast
1: Of this most pompous marriage-feast.
1: The cat, with eyne of burning coal,
1: Now couches fore the mouse's hole;
1: And crickets sing at the oven's mouth,
1: E'er the blither for their drouth.
1: Hymen hath brought the bride to bed,
1: Where, by the loss of maidenhead,
1: A babe is moulded.  Be attent,
1: And time that is so briefly spent
1: With your fine fancies quaintly eche:
1: What's dumb in show I'll plain with speech.
1: [Dumb Show.]
1: [Enter, Pericles and Simonides, at one door, with Attendants; a
1: Messenger meets them, kneels, and gives Pericles a letter:
1: Pericles shows it Simonides; the Lords kneel to him.  Then enter
1: Thaisa with child, with Lychorida a nurse.  The King shows her
1: the letter; she rejoices:  she and Pericles take leave of her
1: father, and depart, with Lychorida and their Attendants.
1: Then exeunt Simonides and the rest.]
1: By many a dern and painful perch
1: Of Pericles the careful search,
1: By the four opposing coigns
1: Which the world together joins,
1: Is made with all due diligence
1: That horse and sail and high expense
1: Can stead the quest.  At last from Tyre,
1: Fame answering the most strange inquire,
1: To the court of King Simonides
1: Are letters brought, the tenour these:
1: Antiochus and his daughter dead;
1: The men of Tyrus on the head
1: Of Helicanus would set on
1: The crown of Tyre, but he will none:
1: The mutiny he there hastes t' oppress;
1: Says to 'em, if King Pericles
1: Come not home in twice six moons,
1: He, obedient to their dooms,
1: Will take the crown.  The sum of this,
1: Brought hither to Pentapolis
1: Y-ravished the regions round,
1: And every one with claps can sound,
1: 'Our heir-apparent is a king!
1: Who dream'd, who thought of such a thing?'
1: Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre:
1: His queen with child makes her desire --
1: Which who shall cross? -- along to go:
1: Omit we all their dole and woe:
1: Lychorida, her nurse, she takes,
1: And so to sea.  Their vessel shakes
1: On Neptune's billow; half the flood
1: Hath their keel cut: but fortune's mood
1: Varies again; the grisled north
1: Disgorges such a tempest forth,
1: That, as a duck for life that dives,
1: So up and down the poor ship drives:
1: The lady shrieks, and well-a-near
1: Does fall in travail with her fear:
1: And what ensues in this fell storm
1: Shall for itself itself perform.
1: I nill relate, action may
1: Conveniently the rest convey;
1: Which might not what by me is told.
1: In your imagination hold
1: This stage the ship, upon whose deck
1: The sea-tost Pericles appears to speak.
1: [Exit.]
1: SCENE I.
1: [Enter Pericles, on shipboard.]
1: PERICLES.
1: Thou god of this great vast, rebuke these surges,
1: Which wash forth both heaven and hell; and thou that hast
1: Upon the winds command, bind them in brass,
1: Having call'd them from the deep! O, still
1: Thy deafening, dreadful thunders; gently quench
1: Thy nimble, sulphurous flashes! O, how, Lychorida,
1: How does my queen? Thou stormest venomously;
1: Wilt thou spit all thyself?  The seaman's whistle
1: Is as a whisper in the ears of death,
1: Unheard.  Lychorida! - Lucina, O
1: Divinest patroness, and midwife gentle
1: To those that cry by night, convey thy deity
1: Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs
1: Of my queen's travails!
1: [Enter Lychorida, with an Infant.]
1: Now, Lychorida!
1: LYCHORIDA.
1: Here is a thing too young for such a place,
1: Who, if it had conceit, would die, as I
1: Am like to do: take in your aims this piece
1: Of your dead queen.
1: PERICLES.
1: How, how, Lychorida!
1: LYCHORIDA.
1: Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm.
1: Here's all that is left living of your queen,
1: A little daughter: for the sake of it,
1: Be manly, and take comfort.
1: PERICLES.
1: O you gods!
1: Why do you make us love your goodly gifts,
1: And snatch them straight away? We here below
1: Recall not what we give, and therein may
1: Use honour with you.
1: LYCHORIDA.
1: Patience, good sir.
1: Even for this charge.
1: PERICLES.
1: Now, mild may be thy life!
1: For a more blustrous birth had never babe:
1: Quiet and gentle thy conditions! for
1: Thou art the rudliest welcome to this world
1: That ever was prince's child.  Happy what follows!
1: Thiou hast as chiding a nativity
1: As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make,
1: To herald thee from the womb: even at the first
1: Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit,
1: With all thou canst find here,  Now, the good gods
1: Throw their best eyes upon't!
1: {Enter two Sailors.]
1: FIRST SAILOR.
1: What courage, sir?  God save you!
1: PERICLES.
1: Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw;
1: It hath done to me the worst.  Yet, for the love
1: Of ths poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer,
1: I would it would be quiet.
1: FIRST SAILOR.
1: Slack the bolins there!  Thou wilt not, wilt thou?  Blow, and
1: split thyself.
1: SECOND SAILOR.
1: But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I
1: care not.
1: FIRST SAILOR.
1: Sir, your queen must overboard: the sea works high, the wind is
1: loud and will not lie till the ship be cleared of the dead.
1: PERICLES.
1: That's your superstition.
1: FIRST SAILOR.
1: Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it has been still observed; and we
1: are strong in custom.  Therefore briefly yield her; for she must
1: overboard straight.
1: PERICLES.
1: As you think meet.  Most wretched queen!
1: LYCHORIDA.
1: Here she lies, sir.
1: PERICLES.
1: A terrible childben hast thou had, my dear;
1: No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements
1: Forgot thee utterly; nor have I time
1: To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight
1: Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze;
1: Where, for a monument upon thy bones,
1: And e'er-remaining lamps, the belching whale
1: And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse,
1: Lying with simple shells.  O Lychorida.
1: Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper,
1: My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander
1: Bring me the satin coffer: lay the babe
1: Upon the pillow: hie thee, whiles I say
1: A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.
1: [Exit Lychorida.]
1: SECOND SAILOR.
1: Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked and bitumed
1: ready.
1: PERICLES.
1: I thank thee.  Mariner, say what coast is this?
1: SECOND SAILOR.
1: We are near Tarsus.
1: PERICLES.
1: Thither, gentle mariner,
1: Alter thy course for Tyre.  When, canst thou reach it?
1: SECOND SAILOR.
1: By break of day, if the wind cease.
1: PERICLES.
1: O, make for Tarsus!
1: There will I visit Cleon, for the babe
1: Cannot hold out to Tyrus there I'll leave it
1: At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner:
1: I'll bring the body presently.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: SCENE II.  Ephesus. A room in Cerimon's house.
1: [Enter Cerimon, with a Servant, and some Persons who have been
1: shipwrecked.]
1: CERIMON.
1: Philemon, ho!
1: [Enter Philemon.]
1: PHILEMON.
1: Doth my lord call?
1: CERIMON.
1: Get fire and meat for these poor men:
1: 'T has been a turbulent and stormy night.
1: SERVANT.
1: I have been in many; but such a night as this,
1: Till now, I ne'er endured.
1: CERIMON.
1: Your master will be dead ere you return;
1: There's nothing can be minister'd to nature
1: That can recover him.
1: [To Philemon.]
1: Give this to the 'pothecary,
1: And tell me how it works.
1: [Exeunt all but Cerimon.]
1: [Enter two Gentlemen.]
1: FIRST GENTLEMAN.
1: Good morrow.
1: SECOND GENTLEMAN.
1: Good morrow to your lordship.
1: CERIMON.
1: Gentlemen,
1: Why do you stir so early?
1: FIRST GENTLEMAN.
1: Sir,
1: Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea,
1: Shook as the earth did quake;
1: The very principals did seem to rend,
1: And all-to topple: pure surprise and fear
1: Made me to quit the house.
1: SECOND GENTLEMAN.
1: That is the cause we trouble you so early;
1: 'Tis not our husbandry.
1: CERIMON.
1: O, you say well.
1: FIRST GENTLEMAN.
1: But I much marvel that your lordship, having
1: Rich tire about you, should at these early hours
1: Shake off the golden slumber of repose.
1: 'Tis most strange,
1: Nature should be so conversant with pain.
1: Being thereto not compell'd.
1: CERIMON.
1: I hold it ever,
1: Virtue and cunning were endowments greater
1: Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs
1: May the two latter darken and expend;
1: But immortality attends the former,
1: Making a man a god. 'Tis known, I ever
1: Have studied physic, through which secret art,
1: By turning o'er authorities, I have,
1: Together with my practice, made familiar
1: To me and to my aid the blest infusions
1: That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;
1: And I can speak of the disturbances
1: That nature works, and of her cures; which doth give me
1: A more content in course of true delight
1: Than to be thirsty after tottering honour,
1: Or tie my treasure up in silken bags,
1: To please the fool and death.
1: SECOND GENTLEMAN.
1: Your  honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth
1: Your charity, and hundreds call themselves
1: Your creatures, who by you have been restored:
1: And not your knowledge, your personal pain, but even
1: Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon
1: Such strong renown as time shall ne'er decay.
1: [Enter two or three Servants with a chest.]
1: FIRST SERVANT.
1: So; lift there.
1: CERIMON.
1: What is that?
1: FIRST SERVANT.
1: Sir, even now
1: Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest:
1: 'Tis of some wreck.
1: CERIMON.
1: Set 't down, let's look upon 't.
1: SECOND GENTLEMAN.
1: 'Tis like a coffin, sir.
1: CERIMON.
1: Whate'er it be,
1: 'Tis  wondrous  heavy.  Wrench it open straight:
1: If the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold,
1: 'Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us.
1: SECOND GENTLEMAN.
1: 'Tis so, my lord.
1: CERIMON.
1: How close 'tis caulk'd and bitumed!
1: Did the sea cast it up?
1: FIRST SERVANT.
1: I never saw so huge a billow, sir,
1: As toss'd it upon shore.
1: CERIMON.
1: Wrench it open;
1: Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense.
1: SECOND GENTLEMAN.
1: A delicate odour.
1: CERIMON.
1: As ever hit my nostril. So up with it.
1: O you most potent gods! what's here? a corse!
1: FIRST GENTLEMAN.
1: Most strange!
1: CERIMON.
1: Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd and entreasured
1: With full bags of spices! A passport too!
1: Apollo, perfect me in the characters!
1: [Reads from a scroll.]
1: 'Here I give to understand,
1: If e'er this coffin drive a-land,
1: I, King Pericles, have lost
1: This queen, worth all our mundane cost.
1: Who her, give her burying;
1: She was the daughter of a king:
1: Besides this treasure for a fee,
1: The gods requite his charity!'
1: If thou livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart
1: That even cracks for woe!  This chanced tonight.
1: SECOND GENTLEMAN.
1: Most likely, sir.
1: CERIMON.
1: Nay, certainly to-night;
1: For look how fresh she looks!  They were too rough
1: That threw her in the sea.  Make a fire within
1: Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet.
1: [Exit a Servant.]
1: Death may usurp on nature many hours,
1: And yet the fire of life kindle again
1: The o'erpress'd spirits. I heard of an Egyptian
1: That had nine hours lien dead,
1: Who was by good appliance recovered.
1: [Re-enter  a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire.
1: Well said, well said; the fire and cloths.
1: The rough and woeful music that we have,
1: Cause it to sound, beseech you
1: The viol once more: how thou stirr'st, thou block!
1: The music there! -- I pray you, give her air.
1: Gentlemen,
1: This queen will live:  nature awakes; a warmth
1: Breathes out of her: she hath not been entranced
1: Above five hours: see how she gins to blow
1: Into life's flower again!
1: FIRST GENTLEMAN.
1: The heavens,
1: Through you, increase our wonder and set up
1: Your fame for ever.
1: CERIMON.
1: She is alive; behold,
1: Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels
1: Which Pericles hath lost,
1: Begin to part their fringes of bright gold;
1: The diamonds of a most praised water
1: Do appear, to make the world twice rich.
1: Live,
1: And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature,
1: Rare as you seem to be.
1: [She moves.]
1: THAISA.
1: O dear Diana,
1: Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is this?
1: SECOND GENTLEMAN.
1: Is not this strange?
1: FIRST GENTLEMAN.
1: Most rare.
1: CERIMON.
1: Hush, my gentle neighbours!
1: Lend me your hands; to the next chamber bear her.
1: Get linen: now this matter must be look'd to,
1: For her, relapse is mortal.  Come, come;
1: And AEsculapius guide us!
1: [Exeunt, carrying her away.]
1: SCENE III.  Tarsus. A room in Cleon's house.
1: [Enter Pericles, Cleon, Dionyza, and Lychorida with Marina in her
1: arms.]
1: PERICLES.
1: Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone;
1: My twelve months are expired, and Tyrus stands
1: In a litigious peace.  You, and your lady,
1: Take from my heart all thankfulness!  The gods
1: Make up the rest upon you!
1: CLEON.
1: Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally,
1: Yet glance full wanderingly on us.
1: DIONYZA.
1: O, your sweet queen!
1: That the strict fates had pleased you had brought her hither,
1: To have bless'd mine eyes with her!
1: PERICLES.
1: We cannot but obey
1: The powers above us. Could I rage and roar
1: As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end
1: Must be as 'tis.  My gentle babe Marina, whom,
1: For she was born at sea, I have named so, here
1: I charge your charity withal, leaving her
1: The infant of your care; beseeching you
1: To give her princely training, that she may be
1: Manner'd as she is born.
1: CLEON.
1: Fear not, my lord, but think
1: Your grace, that fed my country with your corn,
1: For which the people's prayers still fall upon you,
1: Must in your child be thought on.  If neglection
1: Should therein make me vile, the common body,
1: By you relieved, would force me to my duty:
1: But if to that my nature need a spur,
1: The gods revenge it upon me and mine,
1: To the end of generation!
1: PERICLES.
1: I believe you;
1: Your honour and your goodness teach me to 't,
1: Without your vows. Till she be married, madam,
1: By bright Diana, whom we honour, all
1: Unscissar'd shall this hair of mine remain,
1: Though I show ill in 't.  So I take my leave
1: Good madam, make me blessed in your care
1: In bringing up my child.
1: DIONYZA.
1: I have one myself,
1: Who shall not be mere dear to my respect
1: Than yours, my lord.
1: PERICLES.
1: Madam, my thanks and prayers.
1: CLEON.
1: We'll bring your grace e'en to the edge o' the shore,
1: Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune and
1: The gentlest winds of heaven.
1: PERICLES.
1: I will embrace
1: Your offer.  Come, dearest madam.  O, no tears,
1: Lychorida, no tears:
1: Look to your little mistress, on whose grace
1: You may depend hereafter. Come, my lord.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: SCENE IV.  Ephesus.  A room in Cerimon's house.
1: [Enter Cerimon and Thaisa.]
1: CERIMON.
1: Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels,
1: Lay with you in your coffer: which are now
1: At your command.  Know you the character?
1: THAISA.
1: It is my lord's.
1: That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember,
1: Even on my eaning time; but whether there
1: Deliver'd, by the holy gods,
1: I cannot rightly say.  But since King Pericles,
1: My wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again,
1: A vestal livery will I take me to,
1: And never more have joy.
1: CERIMON.
1: Madam, if this you purpose as ye speak,
1: Diana's temple is not distant far,
1: Where you may abide till your date expire.
1: Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine
1: Shall there attend you.
1: THAISA.
1: My recompense is thanks, that's all;
1: Yet my good will is great, though the gift small.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: ACT IV.
1: [Enter Gower.]
1: GOWER.
1: Imagine Pericles arrived at Tyre,
1: Welcomed and settled to his own desire.
1: His woeful queen we leave at Ephesus,
1: Unto Diana there a votaress.
1: Now to Marina bend your mind,
1: Whom our fast-growing scene must find
1: At Tarsus, and by Cleon train'd
1: In music, letters; who hath gain'd
1: Of education all the grace,
1: Which makes her both the heart and place
1: Of general wonder. But, alack,
1: That monster envy, oft the wrack
1: Of earned praise, Marina's life
1: Seeks to take off by treason's knife.
1: And in this kind hath our Cleon
1: One daughter, and a wench full grown,
1: Even ripe for marriage-rite; this maid
1: Hight Philoten: and it is said
1: For certain in our story, she
1: Would ever with Marina be:
1: Be't when she weaved the sleided silk
1: With fingers long, small, white as milk;
1: Or when she would with sharp needle wound,
1: The cambric, which she made more sound
1: By hurting it; or when to the lute
1: She sung, and made the night-bird mute
1: That still records with moan; or when
1: She would with rich and constant pen
1: Vail to her mistress Dian; still
1: This Philoten contends in skill
1: With absolute Marina: so
1: With the dove of Paphos might the crow
1: Vie feathers white.  Marina gets
1: All praises, which are paid as debts,
1: And not as given. This so darks
1: In Philoten all graceful marks,
1: That Cleon's wife, with envy rare,
1: A present murderer does prepare
1: For good Marina, that her daughter
1: Might stand peerless by this slaughter.
1: The sooner her vile thoughts to stead,
1: Lychorida, our nurse, is dead:
1: And cursed Dionyza hath
1: The pregnant instrument of wrath
1: Prest for this blow. The unborn event
1: I do commend to your content:
1: Only I carry winged time
1: Post on the lame feet of my rhyme;
1: Which never could I so convey,
1: Unless your thoughts went on my way.
1: Dionyza does appear,
1: With Leonine, a murderer.
1: [Exit.]
1: Scene I.  Tarsus. An open place near the sea-shore.
1: [Enter Dionyza and Leonine.]
1: DIONYZA.
1: Thy  oath  remember;  thou hast sworn to do 't:
1: 'Tis but a blow, which never shall be known.
1: Thou canst not do a thing in the world so soon,
1: To yield thee so much profit.  Let not conscience,
1: Which is but cold, inflaming love i' thy bosom,
1: Inflame too nicely; nor let pity, which
1: Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be
1: A soldier to thy purpose.
1: LEONINE.
1: I will do't; but yet she is a goodly creature.
1: DIONYZA.
1: The fitter, then, the gods should have her. Here she comes
1: weeping for her only mistress' death.  Thou art resolved?
1: LEONINE.
1: I am resolved.
1: [Enter Marina, with a basket of flowers.]
1: MARINA.
1: No, I will rob Tellus of her weed
1: To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues,
1: The purple violets, and marigolds,
1: Shall as a carpet hang upon thy grave,
1: While summer-days do last.  Ay me! poor maid,
1: Born in a tempest, when my mother died,
1: This world to me is like a lasting storm,
1: Whirring me from my friends.
1: DIONYZA.
1: How now, Marina! why do you keep alone?
1: How chance my daughter is not with you? Do not
1: Consume your blood with sorrowing: you have
1: A nurse of me.  Lord, how your favour's changed
1: With this unprofitable woe!
1: Come, give me your flowers, ere the sea mar it.
1: Walk with Leonine; the air is quick there,
1: And it pierces and sharpens the stomach.
1: Come,
1: Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her.
1: MARINA.
1: No, I pray you;
1: I'll not bereave you of your servant.
1: DIONYZA.
1: Come, come;
1: I love the king your father, and yourself,
1: With more than foreign heart. We every day
1: Expect him here: when he shall come and find
1: Our paragon to all reports thus blasted,
1: He will repent the breadth of his great voyage;
1: Blame both my lord and me, that we have taken
1: No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you,
1: Walk, and be cheerful once again; reserve
1: That excellent complexion, which did steal
1: The eyes of young and old. Care not for me;
1: I can go home alone.
1: MARINA.
1: Well, I will go;
1: But yet I have no desire to it.
1: DIONYZA.
1: Come, come, I know 'tis good for you.
1: Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least:
1: Remember what I have said.
1: LEONINE.
1: I warrant you, madam.
1: DIONYZA.
1: I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while:
1: Pray, walk softly, do not heat your blood:
1: What! I must have a care of you.
1: MARINA.
1: My thanks, sweet madam.
1: [Exit Dionyza.]
1: Is this wind westerly that blows?
1: LEONINE.
1: South-west.
1: MARINA.
1: When I was born, the wind was north.
1: LEONINE.
1: Was 't so?
1: MARINA.
1: My father, as nurse said, did never fear,
1: But cried 'Good seamen!' to the sailors, galling
1: His kingly hands, haling ropes;
1: And, clasping to the mast, endured a sea
1: That almost burst the deck.
1: LEONINE.
1: When was this?
1: MARINA.
1: When I was born:
1: Never was waves nor wind more violent;
1: And from the ladder-tackle washes off
1: A canvas-climber. 'Ha!' says one, wilt out?'
1: And with a dropping industry they skip
1: From stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, and
1: The master calls, and trebles their confusion.
1: LEONINE.
1: Come, say your prayers.
1: MARINA.
1: What mean you?
1: LEONINE.
1: If you require a little space for prayer,
1: I grant it: pray; but be not tedious,
1: For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn
1: To do my work with haste.
1: MARINA.
1: Why will you kill rne?
1: LEONINE.
1: To satisfy my lady.
1: MARINA.
1: Why would she have me kill'd?
1: Now, as I can remember, by my troth,
1: I never did her hurt in all my life:
1: I never spoke bad word, nor did ill turn
1: To any living creature: believe me, la,
1: I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly:
1: I trod upon a worm against my will,
1: But I wept for it.  How have I offended,
1: Wherein my death might yield her any profit,
1: Or my life imply her any danger?
1: LEONINE.
1: My commission
1: Is not to reason of the deed, but do it.
1: MARINA.
1: You will not do 't for all the world, I hope.
1: You are well favour'd, and your looks foreshow
1: You have a gentle heart.  I saw you lately,
1: When you caught hurt in parting two that fought:
1: Good sooth, it show'd well in you: do so now:
1: Your lady seeks my life; come you between,
1: And save poor me, the weaker.
1: LEONINE.
1: I am sworn,
1: And will dispatch.
1: [He seizes her.]
1: [Enter Pirates.]
1: FIRST PIRATE.
1: Hold, villain!
1: [Leonine runs away.]
1: SECOND PIRATE.
1: A prize! a prize!
1: THIRD PIRATE.
1: Half-part, mates, half-part,
1: Comes, let's have her aboard suddenly.
1: [Exeunt Pirates with Marina.]
1: [Re-enter Leonine.]
1: LEONINE.
1: These roguing thieves serve the great pirate Valdes;
1: And they hav seized Marina. Let her go:
1: Thre's no hope she will return. I'll swear she's dead
1: And thrown into the sea. But I'll see further:
1: Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her,
1: Not carry her aboard.  If she remain,
1: Whom they have ravish'd must by me be slain.
1: [Exit.]
1: Scene II. Mytilene.  A room in a brothel.
1: [Enter Pandar, Bawd, and Boult.]
1: PANDAR.
1: Boult!
1: BOULT.
1: Sir?
1: PANDAR.
1: Search the market narrowly; Mytilene is full of gallants. We lost
1: too much money this mart by being too wenchless.
1: BAWD.
1: We were never so much out of creatures. We have but poor three,
1: and they can do no more than they can do; and they with continual
1: action are even as good as rotten.
1: PANDAR.
1: Therefore let's have fresh ones, whate'r we pay for them.  If
1: there be not a conscience to be used in every trade, we shall
1: never prosper.
1: BAWD.
1: Thou sayest true: 'tis not our bringing up of poor bastards, --
1: as, I think, I have bought up some eleven --
1: BOULT.
1: Ay, to eleven; and brought them down again. But shall I search
1: the market?
1: BAWD.
1: What else, man?  The stuff we have, a strong wind will blo it to
1: pieces, they are so pitifully sodden.
1: PANDAR.
1: Thou sayest true; they're too unwholesome, o' conscience. The
1: poor Transylvanian is dead, that lay with the little baggage.
1: BOULT.
1: Ay, she quickly pooped him; she made him roast-meat for worms.
1: But I'll go search the market.
1: [Exit.]
1: PANDAR.
1: Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a proportion to
1: live quietly, and so give over.
1: BAWD.
1: Wgy to give over, I pray you? is it a shame to get when we are
1: old?
1: PANDAR.
1: O, our credit comes not in like the commodity , nor the commodity
1: wages not with the danger: therfore, if in our youths we could
1: pick up some pretty estate, 'twere not amiss to keep our door
1: hatched.  Besides, the sore terms we stand upon with the gods will
1: be strong with us for giving over.
1: BAWD.
1: Come, others sorts offend as well as we.
1: PANDAR.
1: As well as we! ay, and better too; we offend worse. Neither is
1: our profession any trade; it's no calling.  But here comes Boult.
1: [Re-enter Boult, with the Pirates and Marina.]
1: BOULT
1: [To Marina.]
1: Come your ways. My masters, you say she's a virgin?
1: FIRST PIRATE.
1: O, sir, we doubt it not.
1: BOULT.
1: Master, I have gone through for this piece, you see: if you like
1: her, so; if not, I have lost my earnest.
1: BAWD.
1: Boult, has she any qualities?
1: BOULT.
1: She has a good face, speaks well, and has excellent clothes:
1: ther's no further necessity of qualities can make her be refused.
1: BAWD.
1: What is her price, Boult?
1: BOULT.
1: I cannot be baited one doit of a thousand pieces.
1: PANDAR.
1: Well, follow me, my masters, you shall have your money presently.
1: Wife, take her in; instruct her what she has to do, that she may
1: not be raw in her entertainment.
1: [Exeunt Pandar and Pirates.]
1: BAWD.
1: Boult, take you the marks of her, the colour of her hair,
1: complexion, height, age, with warrant of her virginity; and cry
1: 'He that will give most shall have her first.' Such a maidenhead
1: were no cheap thing, if men were as they have been. Get this
1: done as I command you.
1: BOULT.
1: Performance shall follow.
1: [Exit.
1: MARINA.
1: Alack that Leonine was so slack, so slow!
1: He should have struck, not spoke; or that these pirates,
1: Not enough barbarous, had not o'erboard thrown me
1: For to seek my mother!
1: BARD.
1: Why lament you, pretty one?
1: MARINA.
1: That I am pretty.
1: BAWD.
1: Come, the gods have done their part in you.
1: MARINA.
1: I accuse them not.
1: BAWD.
1: You are light into my hands, where you are like to live.
1: MARINA.
1: The more my fault
1: To scape his hands where I was like to die.
1: BAWD.
1: Ay, and you shall live in pleasure.
1: MARINA.
1: No.
1: BAWD.
1: Yes, indeed shall you, and taste gentlemen of all fashions: you
1: shall fare well; you shall have the difference of all complexions.
1: What! do you stop your ears?
1: MARINA.
1: Are you a woman?
1: BAWD.
1: What would you have me be, an I be not a woman?
1: MARINA.
1: An honest woman, or not a woman.
1: BAWD.
1: Marry, whip the, gosling: I think I shall have something to do
1: with you. Come, you're a young foolish sapling, and must be bowed
1: as I would have you.
1: MARINA.
1: The gods defend me!
1: BAWD.
1: If it please the gods to defend you by men, then men must comfort
1: you, men must feed you, men must stir you up.  Boult's returned.
1: [Re-enter Boult.]
1: Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the market?
1: BOULT.
1: I have cried her almost to the number of her hairs; I have drawn
1: her picture with my voice.
1: BAWD.
1: And I prithee tell me, how dost thou find the inclination of the
1: people, especially of the younger sort?
1: BOULT.
1: 'Faith, they listened to me as they would have hearkened to their
1: father's testament.  There was a Spaniard's mouth so watered,
1: that he went to bed to her very description.
1: BAWD.
1: We shall have him here to-morrow: with his best ruff on.
1: BOULT.
1: To-night, to-night. But, mistress, do you know the French knight
1: that cowers i' the hams?
1: BAWD.
1: Who, Monsieur Veroles?
1: BOULT.
1: Ay, he: he offered to cut a caper at the proclamation; but he
1: made a groan at it, and swore he would see her to-morrow.
1: BAWD.
1: Well. well; as for him, he brought his disease hither: here he
1: does but repair it. I know he will come in our shadow, to
1: scatter his crowns in the sun.
1: BOULT.
1: Well, if we had of every nation a traveller, we should lodge them
1: with this sign.
1: [To Marina.]
1: Pray you, come hither awhile. You have fortunes coming upon you.
1: Mark me: you must seem to do that fearfully which you commit
1: willingly, despise profit where you have most gain. To weep that
1: you live as ye do makes pity in your lovers: seldom but that
1: pity begets you a good opinion, and that opinion a mere profit.
1: MARINA.
1: I understand you not.
1: BOULT.
1: O, take her home, mistress, take her home: these blushes of hers
1: must be quenched with some present practice.
1: BAWD.
1: Thou sayest true, i' faith so they must; for your bride goes to
1: that with shame which is her way to go with warrant.
1: BOULT.
1: 'Faith, some do and some do not. But, mistress, if I have
1: bargained for the joint, --
1: BAWD.
1: Thou mayst cut a morsel off the spit.
1: BOULT.
1: I may so.
1: BAWD.
1: Who should deny it? Come young one, I like the manner of your
1: garments well.
1: BOULT.
1: Ay, by my faith, they shall not be changed yet.
1: BAWD.
1: Boult, spend thou that in the town: report what a sojourner we
1: have; you'll lose nothing by custom. When nature framed this
1: piece, she meant thee a good turn; therefore say what a paragon
1: she is, and thou hast the harvest out of thine own report.
1: BOULT.
1: I warrant you, mistress, thunder shall not so awake the beds of
1: eels as my giving out her Beauty stir up the lewdly-inclined.
1: I'll bring home some to-night.
1: BAWD.
1: Come your ways; follow me.
1: MARINA.
1: If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep,
1: Untied I still my virgin knot will keep.
1: Diana, aid my purpose!
1: BAWD.
1: What have we to do with Diana? Pray you, will you go with us?
1: [Exeunt.]
1: SCENE III.  Tarsus. A room in Cleon's house.
1: [Enter Cleon and Dionyza.]
1: DIONYZA.
1: Why, are you foolish?  Can it be undone?
1: CLEON.
1: O, Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter
1: The sun and moon ne'er look'd upon!
1: DIONYZA.
1: I think
1: You'll turn a child agan.
1: CLEON.
1: Were I chief lord of all this spacious world,
1: I'ld give it to undo the deed.  0 lady,
1: Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess
1: To equal any single crown o' the earth
1: I' the justice of compare!  O villain Leonine!
1: Whom thou hast poison'd too:
1: If thou hadst drunk to him, 't had been a kindness
1: Becoming well thy fact: what canst thou say
1: When noble Pericles shall demand his child?
1: DIONYZA.
1: That she is dead.  Nurses are not the fates,
1: To foster it, nor ever to preserve.
1: She died at night; I'11 say so. Who can cross it?
1: Unless you play the pious innocent,
1: And for an honest attribute cry out
1: 'She died by foul play.'
1: CLEON.
1: O, go to.  Well, well,
1: Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods
1: Do like this worst.
1: DIONYZA.
1: Be one of those that think.
1: The petty wrens of Tarsus will fly hence,
1: And open this to Pericles. I do shame
1: To think of what a noble strain you are,
1: And of how coward a spirit.
1: CLEON.
1: To such proceeding
1: Whoever but his approbation added,
1: Though not his prime consent, he did not flow
1: From honourable sources,
1: DIONYZA.
1: Be it so, then:
1: Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead,
1: Nor none can know, Leonine being gone.
1: She did distain my child, and stood between
1: Her and her fortunes: none would look on her,
1: But cast their gazes on Marina's face;
1: Whilst ours was blurted at and held a malkin
1: Not worth the time of day.  It pierced me through;
1: And though you call my course unnatural,
1: You not your child well loving, yet I find
1: It greets me as an enterprise of kindness
1: Perform'd to your sole daughter.
1: CLEON.
1: Heavens forgive it!
1: DIONYZA.
1: And as for Pericles,
1: What should he say? We wept after her hearse,
1: And yet we mourn: her monument
1: Is almost finish'd, and her epitaphs
1: In glittering golden characters express
1: A general praise to her, and care in us
1: At whose expense 'tis done.
1: CLEON.
1: Thou art like the harpy,
1: Which, to betray, dost, with thine angel's face,
1: Seize with thine eagle's talons.
1: DIONYZA.
1: You are like one that superstitiously
1: Doth swear to the gods that winter kills the flies:
1: But yet I know you'll do as I advise.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: SCENE IV.
1: [Enter Gower, before the monument of Marina at Tarsus.]
1: GOWER.
1: Thus time we waste, and longest leagues make short;
1: Sail seas in cockles, have an wish but for 't;
1: Making, to take your imagination,
1: From bourn to bourn, region to region.
1: By you  being pardon'd, we commit no crime
1: To use one language in each several clime
1: Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you
1: To learn of me, who stand i' the gaps to teach you,
1: The stages of our story.  Pericles
1: Is now again thwarting the wayward seas
1: Attended on by many a lord and knight,
1: To see his daughter, all his life's deight.
1: Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late
1: Advanced in time to great and high estate.
1: Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind,
1: Old Helicanus goes along behind
1: Well-sailing ships and bounteous winds have brought
1: This king to Tarsus, -- think his pilot thought;
1: So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on, --
1: To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone.
1: Like motes and shadows see them move awhile;
1: Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile.
1: [Dumb Show.]
1: [Enter Pericles, at one door, with all his train; Cleon and
1: Dionyza, at the other. Cleon shows Pericles the tomb; whereat
1: Pericles makes lamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a
1: mighty passion departs. Then exeunt Cleon and Dionyza.]
1: See how belief may suffer by foul show;
1: This borrow'd passion stands for true old woe;
1: And Pericles, in sorrow all devour'd,
1: With sighs shot through; and biggest tears o'ershower'd,
1: Leaves Tarsus and again embarks. He swears
1: Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs:
1: He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears
1: A tempest, which his mortal vessel tears,
1: And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit
1: The epitaph is for Marina writ
1: By wicked Dionyza.
1: [Reads the inscription on Marina's monument.]
1: 'The fairest, sweet'st, and best lies here,
1: Who wither'd in her spring of year.
1: She was of Tyrus the king's daughter,
1: On whom foul death hath made this slaughter;
1: Marina was she call'd; and at her birth,
1: Thetis, being proud, swallow'd some part o' the earth:
1: Therefore the earth, fearing to be o'erflow'd,
1: Hath Thetis' birth-child on the heavens bestow'd:
1: Wherefore she does, and swears she'll never stint,
1: Make raging battery upon shores of flint.'
1: No visor does become black villany
1: So well as soft and tender flattery.
1: Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead,
1: And bear his courses to be ordered
1: By Lady Fortune; while our scene must play
1: His daughter's woe and heavy well-a-day
1: In her unholy service. Patience, then,
1: And think you now are all in Mytilene.
1: [Exit.]
1: SCENE V.  Mytilene.  A street before the brothel.
1: [Enter, from the brothel, two Gentlemen.]
1: FIRST GENTLEMAN.
1: Did you ever hear the like?
1: SECOND GENTLEMAN.
1: No, nor never shall do in such a place as this, she being once
1: gone.
1: FIRST GENTLEMAN.
1: But to have divinity preached there! did you ever dream of such a
1: thing?
1: SECOND GENTLEMAN.
1: No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy-houses: shall's go hear the
1: vestals sing?
1: FIRST GENTLEMAN.
1: I'll do any thing now that is virtuous; but I am out of the road
1: of rutting for ever.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: SCENE VI. The same. A room in the brothel.
1: [Enter Pandar, Bawd, and Boult.]
1: PANDAR.
1: Well, I had rather than twice the worth of her she had ne'er come
1: here.
1: BAWD.
1: Fie, fie upon her! she's able to freeze the god Priapus, and undo
1: a whole generation. We must either get her ravished, or be rid of
1: her. When she should do for clients her fitment, and do me the
1: kindness of our profession, she has me her quirks, her reasons,
1: her master reasons, her prayers, her knees; that she would make
1: a puritan of the devil, if he should cheapen a kiss of her.
1: BOULT.
1: 'Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll disfurnish us of all our
1: cavaliers, and make our swearers priests.
1: PANDAR.
1: Now, the pox upon her green-sickness for me!
1: BAWD.
1: 'Faith, there's no way to be rid on't but by the way to the pox.
1: Here comes the Lord Lysimachus disguised.
1: BOULT.
1: We should have both lord and lown, if the peevish baggage would
1: but give way to customers.
1: [Enter Lysimachus.]
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: How now!  How a dozen of virginities?
1: BAWD.
1: Now, the gods to bless your honour!
1: BOULT.
1: I am glad to see your honour in good health.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: You may so; 'tis the better for you that your resorters stand
1: upon sound legs. How now! wholesome iniquity have you that a
1: man may deal withal, and defy the surgeon?
1: BAWD.
1: We have here one, sir, if she would -- but there never came her
1: like in Mytilene.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: If she'ld do the deed of darkness, thou wouldst say.
1: BAWD.
1: Your honour knows what 'tis to say well enough.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Well, call forth, call forth.
1: BOULT.
1: For flesh and blood, sir, white and red, you shall see a rose;
1: and she were a rose indeed, if she had but --
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: What, prithee?
1: BOULT.
1: O, sir, I can be modest.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: That dignifies the renown of a bawd, no less than it gives a good
1: report to a number to be chaste.
1: [Exit Boult.]
1: BAWD.
1: Here comes that which grows to the stalk; never plucked yet, I
1: can assure you.
1: [Re-enter Boult with Marina.]
1: Is she not a fair creature?
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: 'Faith, she would serve after a long voyage at sea. Well, there's
1: for you:  leave us.
1: BAWD.
1: I beseech your honour, give me leave: a word, and I'll have done
1: presently.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: I beseech you, do.
1: BAWD.
1: [To Marina.]
1: First, I would have you note, this is an honourable man.
1: MARINA.
1: I desire to find him so, that I may worthily note him.
1: BAWD.
1: Next, he's the governor of this country, and a man whom I am
1: bound to.
1: MARINA.
1: If he govern the country, you are bound to him indeed; but how
1: honourable he is in that, I know not.
1: BAWD.
1: Pray you, without any more virginal fencing, will you use him
1: kindly? He will line your apron with gold.
1: MARINA.
1: What he will do graciously, I will thankfully receive.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Ha' you done?
1: BAWD.
1: My lord, she's not paced yet: you must take some pains to work
1: her to your manage. Come, we will leave his honour and her
1: together.  Go thy ways.
1: [Exeunt Bawd, Pandar, and Boult.]
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Now, pretty one, how long have you been at this trade?
1: MARINA.
1: What trade, sir?
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Why, I cannot name't but I shall offend.
1: MARINA.
1: I cannot be offended with my trade. Please you to name it.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: How long have you been of this profession?
1: MARINA.
1: E'er since I can remember?
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Did you go to't so young? Were you a gamester at five or at
1: seven?
1: MARINA.
1: Earlier, too, sir, if now I be one.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Why, the house you dwell in proclaims you to be a creature of
1: sale.
1: MARINA.
1: Do you know this house to be a place of such resort, and will
1: come into 't? I hear say you are of honourable parts, and are
1: the governor of this place.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Why, hath your principal made known unto you who I am?
1: MARINA.
1: Who is my principal?
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Why, your herb-woman;  she that sets seeds and roots of shame and
1: iniquity. O, you have heard something of my power, and so stand
1: aloof for more serious wooing. But I protest to thee, pretty one,
1: my authority shall not see thee, or else look friendly upon thee.
1: Come, bring me to some private place: come, come.
1: MARINA.
1: If you were born to honour, show it now;
1: If put upon you, make the judgement good
1: That thought you worthy of it.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: How 's  this?  how 's this? Some more; be sage.
1: MARINA.
1: For me,
1: That am a maid, though most ungentle fortune
1: Have placed me in this sty, where, since I came,
1: Diseases have been sold dearer than physic,
1: O, that the gods
1: Would set me free from this unhallow'd place,
1: Though they did change me to the meanest bird
1: That flies i' the purer air!
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: I did not think
1: Thou couldst have spoke so well; ne'er dream'd thou couldst.
1: Had I brought hither a corrupted mind,
1: Thy speech had alter'd it. Hold, here 's gold for thee:
1: Persever in that clear way thou goest,
1: And the gods strengthen thee!
1: MARINA.
1: The good gods preserve you!
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: For me, be you thoughten
1: That I came with no ill intent; for to me
1: The very doors and windows savour vilely.
1: Fare thee well. Thou art a piece of virtue, and
1: I doubt not but thy training hath been noble.
1: Hold, here's more gold for thee.
1: A curse upon him, die he like a thief,
1: That robs thee of thy goodness! If thou dost
1: Hear from me, it shall be for thy good.
1: [Re-enter Boult.]
1: BOULT.
1: I beseech your honour, one piece for me.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Avaunt, thou damned door-keeper!
1: Your house but for this virgin that doth prop it,
1: Would sink and overwhelm you. Away!
1: [Exit.]
1: BOULT.
1: How's this? We must take another course with you. If your peevish
1: chastity, which is not worth a breakfast in the cheapest country
1: under the cope, shall undo a whole household, let me be gelded
1: like a spaniel. Come your ways.
1: MARINA.
1: Whither would you have me?
1: BOULT.
1: I must have your maidenhead taken off, or the common hangman
1: shall execute it.  Come your ways.  We'll have no more
1: gentlemen driven away. Come your ways, I say.
1: [Re-enter Bawd.]
1: BAWD.
1: How now! what's the matter?
1: BOULT.
1: Worse and worse, mistress; she has here spoken holy words to the
1: Lord Lysimachus.
1: BAWD.
1: O Abominable!
1: BOULT.
1: She makes our profession as it were to stink afore the face of
1: the gods.
1: BAWD.
1: Marry, hang her up for ever!
1: BOULT.
1: The nobleman would have dealt with her like a nobleman, and she
1: sent him away as cold as a snowball; saying his prayers too.
1: BAWD.
1: Boult, take her away; use her at thy pleasure: crack the glass of
1: her virginity, and make the rest malleable.
1: BOULT.
1: An if she were a thornier piece of ground than she is, she shall
1: be ploughed.
1: MARINA.
1: Hark, hark, you gods!
1: BAWD.
1: She conjures: away with her! Would she had never come within my
1: doors! Marry, hang you! She's born to undo us. Will you not go
1: the way of women-kind? Marry, come up, my dish of chastity with
1: rosemary and bays!
1: [Exit.]
1: BOULT.
1: Come, mistress; come your ways with me.
1: MARINA.
1: Whither wilt thou have me?
1: BOULT.
1: To take from you the jewel you hold so dear.
1: MARINA.
1: Prithee, tell me one thing first.
1: BOULT.
1: Come now, your one thing.
1: MARINA.
1: What canst thou wish thine enemy to be?
1: BOULT.
1: Why, I could wish him to he my master, or rather, my mistress.
1: MARINA.
1: Neither of these are so had as thou art,
1: Since they do better thee in their command.
1: Thou hold'st a place, for which the pained'st fiend
1: Of hell would not in reputation change:
1: Thou art the damned doorkeeper to every
1: Coistrel that comes inquiring for his Tib;
1: To the choleric fisting of every rogue
1: Thy ear is liable, thy food is such
1: As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs.
1: BOULT.
1: What would you have me do? go to the wars, would you? where a man
1: may serve seven years for the loss of a leg, and have not money
1: enough in the end to buy him a wooden one?
1: MARINA.
1: Do any thing but this thou doest. Empty
1: Old receptacles, or common shores, of filth;
1: Serve by indenture to the common hangman:
1: Any of these ways are yet better than this;
1: For what thou professest, a baboon, could he speak,
1: Would own a name too dear. O, that the gods
1: Would safely deliver me from this place!
1: Here, here's gold for thee.
1: If that thy master would gain by me,
1: Proclaim that I can sing, weave, sew, and dance,
1: With other virtues, which I'll keep from boast;
1: And I will undertake all these to teach.
1: I doubt not but this populous city will
1: Yield many scholars.
1: BOULT.
1: But can you teach all this you speak of?
1: MARINA.
1: Prove that I cannot, take me home again,
1: And prostitute me to the basest groom
1: That doth frequent your house.
1: BOULT.
1: Well, I will see what I can do for thee: if I can place thee, I
1: will.
1: MARINA.
1: But amongst honest women.
1: BOULT.
1: 'Faith, my acquaintance lies little amongst them. But since my
1: master and mistress have bought you, there's no going but by
1: their consent:  therefore I will make them acquainted with your
1: purpose, and I doubt not but I shall find them tractable enough.
1: ome, I'll do for thee what I can; come your ways.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: ACT V.
1: [Enter Gower.]
1: GOWER.
1: Marina thus the brothel 'scapes, and chances
1: Into an honest house, our story says.
1: She sings like one immortal, and she dances
1: As goddess-like to her admired lays;
1: Deep clerks she dumbs; and with her neeld composes
1: Nature's own shape, of bud, bird, branch, or berry,
1: That even her art sistrs the natural roses;
1: Her inkle, silk, twin with the rubied cherry:
1: That pupils lacks she none of noble race,
1: Who pour their bounty on her; and her gain
1: She gives the cursed bawd. Here we her place;
1: And to her father turn our thoughts again,
1: Where we left him, on the sea. We there him lost;
1: Whence, driven before the winds, he is arrived
1: Here where his daughter dwells; and on this coast
1: Suppose him now at anchor. The city strived
1: God Neptune's annual feast to keep: from whence
1: Lysimachus our Tyrian ship espies,
1: His banners sable, trimm'd with rich expense;
1: And to him in his barge with fervour hies.
1: In your supposing once more put your sight
1: Of heavy Pericles; think this his bark:
1: Where what is done in action, more, if might,
1: Shall be discover'd; please you, sit and hark.
1: [Exit.]
1: SCENE I. On board Pericles' ship, off Mytilene. A close pavilion
1: on deck, with a curtain before it; Pericles within it, reclined
1: on a couch.  A barge lying beside the Tyrian vessel.
1: [Enter two Sailors, one belonging to the Tyrian vessel, the other
1: to the barge; to them Helicanus.]
1: TYRIAN SAILOR.
1: [To the Sailor of Mytilene.]
1: Where is lord Helicanus? he can resolve you.
1: O, here he is.
1: Sir, there's a barge put off from Mytilene,
1: And in it is Lysimachus the governor,
1: Who craves to come aboard. What is your will?
1: HELICANUS.
1: That he have his. Call up some gentlemen.
1: TYRIAN SAILOR.
1: Ho, gentlemen! my lord calls.
1: [Enter two or three Gentlemen.]
1: FIRST GENTLEMAN.
1: Doth your lordship call?
1: HELICANUS.
1: Gentlemen, there s some of worth would come aboard;
1: I pray ye, greet them fairly.
1: [The Gentlemen and the two Sailors descend, and go on board the
1: barge.
1: Enter, from thence, Lysimachus and Lords; with the Gentlemen and
1: the two sailors.
1: TYRIAN SAILOR.
1: Sir,
1: This is the man that can, in aught you would,
1: Resolve you.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Hail, reverend sir! the gods preserve you!
1: HELICANUS.
1: And you, sir, to outlive the age I am,
1: And die as I would do.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: You wish me well.
1: Being on shore, honouring of Neptune's triumphs,
1: Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us,
1: I made to it, to know of whence you are.
1: HELICANUS.
1: First, what is your place?
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: I am the governor of this place you lie before.
1: HELICANUS.
1: Sir,
1: Our vessel is of Tyre, in it the king;
1: A man who for this three months hath not spoken
1: To any one, nor taken sustenance
1: But to prorogue his grief.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Upon what ground is his distemperature?
1: HELICANUS.
1: 'Twould be too tedious to repeat;
1: But the main grief springs from the loss
1: Of a beloved daughter and a wife.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: May we not see him?
1: HELICANUS.
1: You may;
1: But bootless is your sight: he will not speak
1: To any.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Yet let me obtain my wish.
1: HELICANUS.
1: Behold him.
1: [Pericles discovered.]
1: This was a goodly person.
1: Till the disaster that, one mortal night,
1: Drove him to this.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Sir king, all hail! the gods preserve you!
1: Hail, royal sir!
1: HELICANUS.
1: It is in vain; he will not speak to you.
1: FIRST LORD.
1: Sir,
1: We have a maid in Mytilene, I durst wager,
1: Would win some words of him.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: 'Tis well bethought.
1: She questionless with her sweet harmony
1: And other chosen attractions, would allure,
1: And make a battery through his deafen'd parts,
1: Which now are midway stopp'd:
1: She is all happy as the fairest of all,
1: And, with her fellow maids, is now upon
1: The leafy shelter that abuts against
1: The island's side.
1: [Whispers a Lord, who goes off in the barge of Lysimachus.]
1: HELICANUS.
1: Sure, all's effectless; yet nothing we'll omit
1: That bears recovery's name. But, since your kindness
1: We have stretch'd thus far, let us beseech you
1: That for our gold we may provision have,
1: Wherein we are not destitute for want,
1: But weary for the staleness.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: O, sir, a courtesy
1: Which if we should deny, the most just gods
1: For every graff would send a catepillar,
1: And so afflict our province. Yet once more
1: Let me entreat to know at large the cause
1: Of your king's sorrow.
1: HELICANUS.
1: Sit, sir, I will recount it to you:
1: But, see, I am prevented.
1: [Re-enter, from the barge, Lord, with Marina, and a young Lady.]
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: O, here is
1: The lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one!
1: Is't not a goodly presence?
1: HELICANUS.
1: She's a gallant lady.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: She's such a one, that, were I well assured
1: Came of a gentle kind and noble stock,
1: I'ld wish no better choice, and think me rarely wed.
1: Fair one, all goodness that consists in bounty
1: Expect even here, where is a kingly patient:
1: If that thy prosperous and artificial feat
1: Can draw him but to answer thee in aught,
1: Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay
1: As thy desires can wish.
1: MARINA.
1: Sir, I will use
1: My utmost skill in his recovery,
1: Provided
1: That none but I and my companion maid
1: Be suffer'd to come near him.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Come, let us leave her,
1: And the gods make her prosperous!
1: [Marina sings.]
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Mark'd he your music?
1: MARINA.
1: No, nor look'd on us,
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: See, she will speak to him.
1: MARINA.
1: Hail, sir! my lord, lend ear.
1: PERICLES.
1: Hum, ha!
1: MARINA.
1: I am a maid,
1: My lord, that ne'er before invited eyes,
1: But have been gazed on like a cornet: she speaks,
1: My lord, that, may be, hath endured a grief
1: Might equal yours, if both were justly weigh'd.
1: Though wayward fortune did malign my state,
1: My derivation was from ancestors
1: Who stood equivalent with mighty kings:
1: But time hath rooted out my parentage,
1: And to the world and awkward casualties
1: Bound me in servitude.
1: [Aside.]
1: I will desist;
1: But there is something glows upon my cheek,
1: And whispers in mine ear 'Go not till he speak.'
1: PERICLES.
1: My fortunes -- parentage -- good parentage --
1: To equal mine! -- was it not thus? what say you?
1: MARINA.
1: I said, my lord, if you did know my parentage.
1: You would not do me violence.
1: PERICLES.
1: I do think so. Pray you, turn your eyes upon me.
1: You are like something that -- What country-woman?
1: Here of these shores?
1: MARINA.
1: No, nor of any shores:
1: Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am
1: No other than I appear.
1: PERICLES.
1: I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping.
1: My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one
1: My daughter might have been: my queen's square brows;
1: Her stature to an inch; as wand-like straight;
1: As silver-voiced; her eyes as jewel-like
1: And cased as richly; in pace another Juno;
1: Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hungry,
1: The more she gives them speech. Where do you live?
1: MARINA.
1: Where I am but a stranger: from the deck
1: You may discern the place.
1: PERICLES.
1: Where were you bred?
1: And how achieved you these endowments, which
1: You make more rich to owe?
1: MARINA.
1: If I should tell my history, it would seem
1: Like lies disdain'd in the reporting.
1: PERICLES.
1: Prithee, speak:
1: Falseness cannot come from thee; for thou look'st
1: Modest as Justice, and thou seem'st a palace
1: For the crown'd Truth to dwell in: I will believe thee,
1: And make my senses credit thy relation
1: To points that seem impossible;  for thou look'st
1: Like one I loved indeed. What were thy friends?
1: Didst thou not say, when I did push thee back --
1: Which was when I perceived thee -- that thou earnest
1: From good descending?
1: MARINA.
1: So indeed I did.
1: PERICLES.
1: Report thy parentage.  I think thou said'st
1: Thou hadst been toss'd from wrong to injury,
1: And that thou thought'st thy griefs might equal mine,
1: If both were open'd.
1: MARINA.
1: Some such thing,
1: I said, and said no more but what my thoughts
1: Did warrant me was likely.
1: PERICLES.
1: Tell thy story;
1: If thine consider'd prove the thousandth part
1: Of my endurance, thou art a man, and I
1: Have suffer'd like a girl: yet thou dost look
1: Like Patience gazing on kings' graves, and smiling
1: Extremity out of act. What were thy friends?
1: How lost thou them? Thy name, my most kind virgin?
1: Recount, I do beseech thee: come, sit by me.
1: MARINA.
1: My name is Marina.
1: PERICLES.
1: O, I am mock'd,
1: And thou by some incensed god sent hither
1: To make the world to laugh at me.
1: MARINA.
1: Patience, good sir,
1: Or here I'll cease.
1: PERICLES.
1: Nay, I'll be patient.
1: Thou little know'st how thou dost startle me,
1: To call thyself Marina.
1: MARINA.
1: The name
1: Was given me by one that had some power,
1: My father, and a king.
1: PERICLES.
1: How! a king's daughter?
1: And call'd Marina?
1: MARINA.
1: You said you would believe me;
1: But, not to be a troubler of your peace,
1: I will end here.
1: PERICLES.
1: But are you flesh and blood?
1: Have you a working pulse? and are no fairy?
1: Motion! Well; speak on. Where were you born?
1: And wherefore call'd Marina?
1: MARINA.
1: Call'd Marina
1: For I was born at sea.
1: PERICLES.
1: At sea! what mother?
1: MARINA.
1: My mother was the daughter of a king;
1: Who died the minute I was born,
1: As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft
1: Deliver'd weeping.
1: PERICLES.
1: O, stop there a little!
1: [Aside.]
1: This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep
1: Did mock sad fools withal: this cannot be:
1: My daughter's buried. Well: where were: you bred?
1: I'll hear you more, to the bottom of your story,
1: And never interrupt you.
1: MARINA.
1: You scorn: believe me, 'twere best I did give o'er.
1: -
1: PERICLES.
1: I will believe you by the syllable
1: Of what you shall deliver. Yet, give me leave:
1: How came you in these parts? where were you bred?
1: MARINA.
1: The king my father did in Tarsus leave me;
1: Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife,
1: Did seek to murder me: and having woo'd
1: A villain to attempt it, who having drawn to do 't,
1: A crew of pirates came and rescued me;
1: Brought me to Mytilene.  But, good sir.
1: Whither will you have me?  Why do you weep? It may be,
1: You think me an impostor: no, good faith;
1: I am the daughter to King Pericles,
1: If good King Pericles be.
1: PERICLES.
1: Ho, Helicanus!
1: HELICANUS.
1: Calls my lord?
1: PERICLES.
1: Thou art a grave and noble counsellor,
1: Most wise in general: tell me, if thou canst,
1: What this maid is, or what is like to be,
1: That thus hath made me weep?
1: HELICANUS.
1: I know not; but
1: Here is the regent, sir, of Mytilene
1: Speaks nobly of her.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: She would never tell
1: Her parentage; being demanded that,
1: She would sit still and weep.
1: PERICLES.
1: O Helicanus, strike me, honour'd sir;
1: Give me a gash, put me to present pain;
1: Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me
1: O'erbear the shores of my mortality,
1: And drown me with their sweetness. O, come hither,
1: Thou that beget'st him that did thee beget;
1: Thou that wast born at sea, buried at Tarsus,
1: And found at sea again! O Helicanus,
1: Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods as loud
1: As thunder threatens us: this is Marina.
1: What was thy mother's name? tell me but that,
1: For truth can never be confirm'd enough,
1: Though doubts did ever sleep
1: MARINA.
1: First, sir, I pray,
1: What is your title?
1: PERICLES.
1: I am Pericles of Tyre: but tell me now
1: My drown'd queen's name, as in the rest you said
1: Thou hast been godlike perfect,
1: The heir of kingdoms and another like
1: To Pericles thy father.
1: MARINA.
1: Is it no more to be your daughter than
1: To say my mother's name was Thaisa?
1: Thaisa was my mother, who did end
1: The minute I began.
1: PERICLES.
1: Now, blessing on thee! rise; thou art my child.
1: Give me fresh garments. Mine own, Helicanus;
1: She is not dead at Tarsus, as she should have been,
1: By savage Cleon: she shall tell thee all;
1: When thou shalt kneel, and justify in knowledge
1: She is thy very princess. Who is this?
1: HELICANUS.
1: Sir, 'tis the governor of Mytilene,
1: Who, hearing of your melancholy state,
1: Did come to see you.
1: PERICLES.
1: I embrace you.
1: Give me my robes. I am wild in my beholding.
1: O heavens bless my girl! But, hark, what music?
1: Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him
1: O'er, point by point, for yet he seems to doubt,
1: How sure you are my daughter. But, what music?
1: HELICANUS.
1: My lord, I hear none.
1: PERICLES.
1: None!
1: The music of the spheres! List, my Marina.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: It is not good to cross him; give him way
1: PERICLES.
1: Rarest sounds! Do ye not hear?
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: My lord, I hear.
1: [Music.]
1: PERICLES.
1: Most heavenly music!
1: It nips me unto listening, and thick slumber
1: Hangs upon mine eyes: let me rest.
1: [Sleeps.]
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: A pillow for his head:
1: So, leave him all. Well, my companion friends,
1: If this but answer to my just belief,
1: I'll well remember you.
1: [Exeunt all but Pericles.]
1: [Diana appears to Pericles as in a vision.]
1: DIANA.
1: My temple stands in Ephesus: hie thee thither,
1: And do upon mine altar sacrifice.
1: There, when my maiden priests are met together,
1: Before the people all,
1: Reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife:
1: To mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter's, call
1: And give them repetition to the life.
1: Or perform my bidding, or thou livest in woe:
1: Do it, and happy; by my silver bow!
1: Awake, and tell thy dream.
1: [Disappears.]
1: PERICLES.
1: Celestial Dian, goddess argentine,
1: I will obey thee.  Helicanus!
1: [Re-enter Helicanus, Lysimachus, and Marina.]
1: HELICANUS.
1: Sir?
1: PERICLES.
1: My purpose was for Tarsus, there to strike
1: The inhospitable Cleon; but I am
1: For other service first: toward Ephesus
1: Turn our blown sails; eftsoons I'll tell thee why
1: [To Lysimachus.]
1: Shall we refresh us, sir, upon your shore,
1: And give you gold for such provision
1: As our intents will need?
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Sir,
1: With all my heart; and when you come ashore,
1: I have another suit.
1: PERICLES.
1: You shall prevail,
1: Were you to woo my daughter; for it seems
1: You have been noble towards her.
1: LYSIMACHUS.
1: Sir, lend me your arm.
1: PERICLES.
1: Come, my Marina.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: SCENE II. Enter Gower, before the temple of Diana at Ephesus.
1: GOWER.
1: Now our sands are almost run;
1: More a little, and then dumb.
1: This, my last boon, give me,
1: For such kindness must relieve me,
1: That you aptly will suppose
1: What pageantry, what feats, what shows,
1: What minstrelsy, and pretty din,
1: The regent made in Mytilene
1: To greet the king. So he thrived,
1: That he is promised to be wived
1: To fair Marina; but in no wise
1: Till he had done his sacrifice,
1: As Dian bade: whereto being bound,
1: The interim, pray you, all confound.
1: In feather'd briefness sails are fill'd,
1: And wishes fall out as they're will'd.
1: At Ephesus, the temple see,
1: Cur king and all his company.
1: That he can hither come so soon,
1: Is by your fancy's thankful doom.
1: [Exit.]
1: SCENE III. The temple of Diana at Ephesus; Thaisa standing near
1: the altar, as high priestess; a number of Virgins on each side;
1: Cerimon and other inhabitants of Ephesus attending.
1: [Enter Pericles, with his train; Lysimachus, Helicanus, Marina,
1: and a Lady.]
1: PERICLES.
1: Hail, Dian! to perform thy just command,
1: I here confess myself the king of Tyre;
1: Who, frighted from my country, did wed
1: At Pentapolis the fair Thaisa.
1: At sea in childbed died she, but brought forth
1: A maid-child call'd Marina; who, O goddess,
1: Wears yet thy silver livery. She at Tarsus
1: Was nursed with Cleon; who at fourteen years
1: He sought to murder: but her better stars
1: Brought her to Mytilene; 'gainst whose shore
1: Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us,
1: Where by her own most clear remembrance, she
1: Made known herself my daughter.
1: THAISA.
1: Voice and favour!
1: You are, you are -- O royal Pericles!
1: [Faints.]
1: PERICLES.
1: What means the nun? she dies! help, gentlemen!
1: CERIMON.
1: Noble sir,
1: If you have told Diana's altar true,
1: This is your wife.
1: PERICLES.
1: Reverend appearer, no;
1: I threw her overboard with these very arms.
1: CERIMON.
1: Upon this coast, I warrant you.
1: PERICLES.
1: 'Tis most certain.
1: CERIMON.
1: Look to the lady; O, she's but o'er-joy'd.
1: Early in blustering morn this lady was
1: Thrown upon this shore. I oped the coffin,
1: Found there rich jewels; recover'd her, and placed her
1: Here in Diana's temple.
1: PERICLES.
1: May we see them?
1: CERIMON.
1: Great sir, they shall be brought you to my house,
1: Whither I invite you. Look, Thaisa is
1: Recovered.
1: THAISA.
1: O, let me look!
1: If he be none of mine, my sanctity
1: Will to my sense bend no licentious ear,
1: But curb it, spite of seeing. O, my lord,
1: Are you not Pericles? Like him you spake,
1: Like him you are: did you not name a tempest,
1: A birth, and death?
1: PERICLES.
1: The voice of dead Thaisa!
1: THAISA.
1: That Thaisa am I, supposed dead
1: And drown'd.
1: PERICLES.
1: Immortal Dian!
1: THAISA.
1: Now I know you better,
1: When we with tears parted Pentapolis,
1: The king my father gave you such a ring.
1: [Shows a ring.]
1: PERICLES.
1: This, this: no more, you gods! your present kindness
1: Makes my past miseries sports: you shall do well,
1: That on the touching of her lips I may
1: Melt and no more be seen. O, come, be buried
1: A second time within these arms.
1: MARINA.
1: My heart
1: Leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom.
1: [Kneels to Thaisa.]
1: PERICLES.
1: Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa;
1: Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina
1: For she was yielded there.
1: THAISA.
1: Blest, and mine own!
1: HELICANUS.
1: Hail, madam, and my queen!
1: THAISA.
1: I know you not.
1: PERICLES.
1: You have heard me say, when did fly from Tyre,
1: I left behind an ancient substitute:
1: Can you remember what I call'd the man
1: I have named him oft.
1: THAISA.
1: 'Twas Helicanus then.
1: PERICLES.
1: Still confirmation:
1: Embrace him, dear Thaisa; this is he.
1: Now do I long to hear how you were found:
1: How possibly preserved; and who to thank,
1: Besides the gods, for this great miracle.
1: THAISA.
1: Lord Cerimon, my lord; this man,
1: Through whom the gods have shown their power; that can
1: From first to last resolve you.
1: PERICLES.
1: Reverend sir,
1: The gods can have no mortal officer
1: More like a god than you. Will you deliver
1: How this dead queen re-lives?
1: CERIMON.
1: I will, my lord
1: Beseech you, first go with me to my house,
1: Where shall be shown you all was found with her;
1: How she came placed here in the temple;
1: No needful thing omitted.
1: PERICLES.
1: Pure Dian, bless thee for thy vision! I
1: Will offer night-oblations to thee.  Thaisa,
1: This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter,
1: Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now,
1: This ornament
1: Makes me look dismal will I clip to form;
1: And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd
1: To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify.
1: THAISA.
1: Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit, sir,
1: My father's dead.
1: PERICLES.
1: Heavens make a star of him! Yet there, my queen,
1: We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves
1: Will in that kingdom spend our following days:
1: Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign.
1: Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay
1: To hear the rest untold: sir, lead's the way.
1: [Exeunt.]
1: [Enter Gower.]
1: GOWER.
1: In Antiochus and his daughter you have heard
1: Of monstrous lust the due and just reward:
1: In Pericles, his queen and daughter, seen,
1: Although assail'd with fortune fierce and keen,
1: Virtue preserved from fell destruction's blast,
1: Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last:
1: In Helicanus may you well descry
1: A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty:
1: In reverend Cerimon there well appears
1: The worth that learned charity aye wears:
1: For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame
1: Had spread their cursed deed, and honour'd name
1: Of Pericles, to rage the city turn,
1: That him and his they in his palace burn;
1: The gods for murder seemed so content
1: To punish them although not done but meant.
1: So, on your patence evermore attending,
1: New joy wait on you! Here our play has ending.
1: [Exit.]
2: ????????????????????
2: William Shakespeare. A Midsummer Night's Dream
2: 1596
2: DRAMATIS PERSONAE
2: THESEUS, Duke of Athens
2: EGEUS, father to Hermia
2: LYSANDER, in love with Hermia
2: DEMETRIUS, in love with Hermia
2: PHILOSTRATE, Master of the Revels to Theseus
2: QUINCE, a carpenter
2: SNUG, a joiner
2: BOTTOM, a weaver
2: FLUTE, a bellows-mender
2: SNOUT, a tinker
2: STARVELING, a tailor
2: HIPPOLYTA, Queen of the Amazons, bethrothed to Theseus
2: HERMIA, daughter to Egeus, in love with Lysander
2: HELENA, in love with Demetrius
2: OBERON, King of the Fairies
2: TITANIA, Queen of the Fairies
2: PUCK, or ROBIN GOODFELLOW
2: PEASEBLOSSOM, fairy
2: COBWEB, fairy
2: MOTH, fairy
2: MUSTARDSEED, fairy
2: PROLOGUE, PYRAMUS, THISBY, WALL, MOONSHINE, LION are presented by:
2: QUINCE, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, STARVELING, AND SNUG
2: Other Fairies attending their King and Queen
2: Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta
2: SCENE:
2: Athens and a wood near it
2: ACT I. SCENE I.
2: Athens. The palace of THESEUS
2: Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and ATTENDANTS
2: THESEUS. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
2: Draws on apace; four happy days bring in
2: Another moon; but, O, methinks, how slow
2: This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires,
2: Like to a step-dame or a dowager,
2: Long withering out a young man's revenue.
2: HIPPOLYTA. Four days will quickly steep themselves in night;
2: Four nights will quickly dream away the time;
2: And then the moon, like to a silver bow
2: New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night
2: Of our solemnities.
2: THESEUS. Go, Philostrate,
2: Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments;
2: Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;
2: Turn melancholy forth to funerals;
2: The pale companion is not for our pomp.     Exit PHILOSTRATE
2: Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword,
2: And won thy love doing thee injuries;
2: But I will wed thee in another key,
2: With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling.
2: Enter EGEUS, and his daughter HERMIA, LYSANDER,
2: and DEMETRIUS
2: EGEUS. Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke!
2: THESEUS. Thanks, good Egeus; what's the news with thee?
2: EGEUS. Full of vexation come I, with complaint
2: Against my child, my daughter Hermia.
2: Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord,
2: This man hath my consent to marry her.
2: Stand forth, Lysander. And, my gracious Duke,
2: This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child.
2: Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes,
2: And interchang'd love-tokens with my child;
2: Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,
2: With feigning voice, verses of feigning love,
2: And stol'n the impression of her fantasy
2: With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,
2: Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats- messengers
2: Of strong prevailment in unhardened youth;
2: With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart;
2: Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me,
2: To stubborn harshness. And, my gracious Duke,
2: Be it so she will not here before your Grace
2: Consent to marry with Demetrius,
2: I beg the ancient privilege of Athens:
2: As she is mine I may dispose of her;
2: Which shall be either to this gentleman
2: Or to her death, according to our law
2: Immediately provided in that case.
2: THESEUS. What say you, Hermia? Be advis'd, fair maid.
2: To you your father should be as a god;
2: One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one
2: To whom you are but as a form in wax,
2: By him imprinted, and within his power
2: To leave the figure, or disfigure it.
2: Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.
2: HERMIA. So is Lysander.
2: THESEUS. In himself he is;
2: But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice,
2: The other must be held the worthier.
2: HERMIA. I would my father look'd but with my eyes.
2: THESEUS. Rather your eyes must with his judgment look.
2: HERMIA. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me.
2: I know not by what power I am made bold,
2: Nor how it may concern my modesty
2: In such a presence here to plead my thoughts;
2: But I beseech your Grace that I may know
2: The worst that may befall me in this case,
2: If I refuse to wed Demetrius.
2: THESEUS. Either to die the death, or to abjure
2: For ever the society of men.
2: Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires,
2: Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
2: Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice,
2: You can endure the livery of a nun,
2: For aye to be shady cloister mew'd,
2: To live a barren sister all your life,
2: Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.
2: Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood
2: To undergo such maiden pilgrimage;
2: But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd
2: Than that which withering on the virgin thorn
2: Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness.
2: HERMIA. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,
2: Ere I will yield my virgin patent up
2: Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke
2: My soul consents not to give sovereignty.
2: THESEUS. Take time to pause; and by the next new moon-
2: The sealing-day betwixt my love and me
2: For everlasting bond of fellowship-
2: Upon that day either prepare to die
2: For disobedience to your father's will,
2: Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would,
2: Or on Diana's altar to protest
2: For aye austerity and single life.
2: DEMETRIUS. Relent, sweet Hermia; and, Lysander, yield
2: Thy crazed title to my certain right.
2: LYSANDER. You have her father's love, Demetrius;
2: Let me have Hermia's; do you marry him.
2: EGEUS. Scornful Lysander, true, he hath my love;
2: And what is mine my love shall render him;
2: And she is mine; and all my right of her
2: I do estate unto Demetrius.
2: LYSANDER. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he,
2: As well possess'd; my love is more than his;
2: My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd,
2: If not with vantage, as Demetrius';
2: And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
2: I am belov'd of beauteous Hermia.
2: Why should not I then prosecute my right?
2: Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head,
2: Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena,
2: And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,
2: Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,
2: Upon this spotted and inconstant man.
2: THESEUS. I must confess that I have heard so much,
2: And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof;
2: But, being over-full of self-affairs,
2: My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come;
2: And come, Egeus; you shall go with me;
2: I have some private schooling for you both.
2: For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself
2: To fit your fancies to your father's will,
2: Or else the law of Athens yields you up-
2: Which by no means we may extenuate-
2: To death, or to a vow of single life.
2: Come, my Hippolyta; what cheer, my love?
2: Demetrius, and Egeus, go along;
2: I must employ you in some business
2: Against our nuptial, and confer with you
2: Of something nearly that concerns yourselves.
2: EGEUS. With duty and desire we follow you.
2: Exeunt all but LYSANDER and HERMIA
2: LYSANDER. How now, my love! Why is your cheek so pale?
2: How chance the roses there do fade so fast?
2: HERMIA. Belike for want of rain, which I could well
2: Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.
2: LYSANDER. Ay me! for aught that I could ever read,
2: Could ever hear by tale or history,
2: The course of true love never did run smooth;
2: But either it was different in blood-
2: HERMIA. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low.
2: LYSANDER. Or else misgraffed in respect of years-
2: HERMIA. O spite! too old to be engag'd to young.
2: LYSANDER. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends-
2: HERMIA. O hell! to choose love by another's eyes.
2: LYSANDER. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
2: War, death, or sickness, did lay siege to it,
2: Making it momentary as a sound,
2: Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
2: Brief as the lightning in the collied night
2: That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
2: And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!'
2: The jaws of darkness do devour it up;
2: So quick bright things come to confusion.
2: HERMIA. If then true lovers have ever cross'd,
2: It stands as an edict in destiny.
2: Then let us teach our trial patience,
2: Because it is a customary cross,
2: As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs,
2: Wishes and tears, poor Fancy's followers.
2: LYSANDER. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, Hermia.
2: I have a widow aunt, a dowager
2: Of great revenue, and she hath no child-
2: From Athens is her house remote seven leagues-
2: And she respects me as her only son.
2: There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;
2: And to that place the sharp Athenian law
2: Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me then,
2: Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night;
2: And in the wood, a league without the town,
2: Where I did meet thee once with Helena
2: To do observance to a morn of May,
2: There will I stay for thee.
2: HERMIA. My good Lysander!
2: I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow,
2: By his best arrow, with the golden head,
2: By the simplicity of Venus' doves,
2: By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves,
2: And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queen,
2: When the false Troyan under sail was seen,
2: By all the vows that ever men have broke,
2: In number more than ever women spoke,
2: In that same place thou hast appointed me,
2: To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.
2: LYSANDER. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena.
2: Enter HELENA
2: HERMIA. God speed fair Helena! Whither away?
2: HELENA. Call you me fair? That fair again unsay.
2: Demetrius loves your fair. O happy fair!
2: Your eyes are lode-stars and your tongue's sweet air
2: More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear,
2: When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.
2: Sickness is catching; O, were favour so,
2: Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go!
2: My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,
2: My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody.
2: Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,
2: The rest I'd give to be to you translated.
2: O, teach me how you look, and with what art
2: You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart!
2: HERMIA. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
2: HELENA. O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!
2: HERMIA. I give him curses, yet he gives me love.
2: HELENA. O that my prayers could such affection move!
2: HERMIA. The more I hate, the more he follows me.
2: HELENA. The more I love, the more he hateth me.
2: HERMIA. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.
2: HELENA. None, but your beauty; would that fault were mine!
2: HERMIA. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face;
2: Lysander and myself will fly this place.
2: Before the time I did Lysander see,
2: Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me.
2: O, then, what graces in my love do dwell,
2: That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell!
2: LYSANDER. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:
2: To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
2: Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass,
2: Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,
2: A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,
2: Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal.
2: HERMIA. And in the wood where often you and I
2: Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie,
2: Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet,
2: There my Lysander and myself shall meet;
2: And thence from Athens turn away our eyes,
2: To seek new friends and stranger companies.
2: Farewell, sweet playfellow; pray thou for us,
2: And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!
2: Keep word, Lysander; we must starve our sight
2: From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight.
2: LYSANDER. I will, my Hermia. [Exit HERMIA] Helena, adieu;
2: As you on him, Demetrius dote on you.                   Exit
2: HELENA. How happy some o'er other some can be!
2: Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
2: But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;
2: He will not know what all but he do know.
2: And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,
2: So I, admiring of his qualities.
2: Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
2: Love can transpose to form and dignity.
2: Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
2: And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind.
2: Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste;
2: Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste;
2: And therefore is Love said to be a child,
2: Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd.
2: As waggish boys in game themselves forswear,
2: So the boy Love is perjur'd everywhere;
2: For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne,
2: He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine;
2: And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,
2: So he dissolv'd, and show'rs of oaths did melt.
2: I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight;
2: Then to the wood will he to-morrow night
2: Pursue her; and for this intelligence
2: If I have thanks, it is a dear expense.
2: But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
2: To have his sight thither and back again.               Exit
2: SCENE II.
2: Athens. QUINCE'S house
2: Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING
2: QUINCE. Is all our company here?
2: BOTTOM. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according
2: to the scrip.
2: QUINCE. Here is the scroll of every man's name which is thought
2: fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the Duke
2: and the Duchess on his wedding-day at night.
2: BOTTOM. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then
2: read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point.
2: QUINCE. Marry, our play is 'The most Lamentable Comedy and most
2: Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisby.'
2: BOTTOM. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now,
2: good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll. Masters,
2: spread yourselves.
2: QUINCE. Answer, as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver.
2: BOTTOM. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.
2: QUINCE. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.
2: BOTTOM. What is Pyramus? A lover, or a tyrant?
2: QUINCE. A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love.
2: BOTTOM. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it. If I
2: do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms; I
2: will condole in some measure. To the rest- yet my chief humour is
2: for a tyrant. I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat
2: in, to make all split.
2: 'The raging rocks
2: And shivering shocks
2: Shall break the locks
2: Of prison gates;
2: And Phibbus' car
2: Shall shine from far,
2: And make and mar
2: The foolish Fates.'
2: This was lofty. Now name the rest of the players. This is
2: Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein: a lover is more condoling.
2: QUINCE. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.
2: FLUTE. Here, Peter Quince.
2: QUINCE. Flute, you must take Thisby on you.
2: FLUTE. What is Thisby? A wand'ring knight?
2: QUINCE. It is the lady that Pyramus must love.
2: FLUTE. Nay, faith, let not me play a woman; I have a beard coming.
2: QUINCE. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may
2: speak as small as you will.
2: BOTTOM. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too.
2: I'll speak in a monstrous little voice: 'Thisne, Thisne!'
2: [Then speaking small] 'Ah Pyramus, my lover dear! Thy
2: Thisby dear, and lady dear!'
2: QUINCE. No, no, you must play Pyramus; and, Flute, you Thisby.
2: BOTTOM. Well, proceed.
2: QUINCE. Robin Starveling, the tailor.
2: STARVELING. Here, Peter Quince.
2: QUINCE. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother.
2: Tom Snout, the tinker.
2: SNOUT. Here, Peter Quince.
2: QUINCE. You, Pyramus' father; myself, Thisby's father; Snug, the
2: joiner, you, the lion's part. And, I hope, here is a play fitted.
2: SNUG. Have you the lion's part written? Pray you, if it be, give it
2: me, for I am slow of study.
2: QUINCE. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.
2: BOTTOM. Let me play the lion too. I will roar that I will do any
2: man's heart good to hear me; I will roar that I will make the
2: Duke say 'Let him roar again, let him roar again.'
2: QUINCE. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the
2: Duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were
2: enough to hang us all.
2: ALL. That would hang us, every mother's son.
2: BOTTOM. I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out
2: of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us;
2: but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently
2: as any sucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale.
2: QUINCE. You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a
2: sweet-fac'd man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's
2: day; a most lovely gentleman-like man; therefore you must needs
2: play Pyramus.
2: BOTTOM. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play
2: it in?
2: QUINCE. Why, what you will.
2: BOTTOM. I will discharge it in either your straw-colour beard, your
2: orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your
2: French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow.
2: QUINCE. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then
2: you will play bare-fac'd. But, masters, here are your parts; and
2: I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by
2: to-morrow night; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without
2: the town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse; for if we meet in
2: the city, we shall be dogg'd with company, and our devices known.
2: In the meantime I will draw a bill of properties, such as our
2: play wants. I pray you, fail me not.
2: BOTTOM. We will meet; and there we may rehearse most obscenely and
2: courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu.
2: QUINCE. At the Duke's oak we meet.
2: BOTTOM. Enough; hold, or cut bow-strings.               Exeunt
2: ACT II. SCENE I.
2: A wood near Athens
2: Enter a FAIRY at One door, and PUCK at another
2: PUCK. How now, spirit! whither wander you?
2: FAIRY.      Over hill, over dale,
2: Thorough bush, thorough brier,
2: Over park, over pale,
2: Thorough flood, thorough fire,
2: I do wander every where,
2: Swifter than the moon's sphere;
2: And I serve the Fairy Queen,
2: To dew her orbs upon the green.
2: The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
2: In their gold coats spots you see;
2: Those be rubies, fairy favours,
2: In those freckles live their savours.
2: I must go seek some dewdrops here,
2: And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
2: Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone.
2: Our Queen and all her elves come here anon.
2: PUCK. The King doth keep his revels here to-night;
2: Take heed the Queen come not within his sight;
2: For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
2: Because that she as her attendant hath
2: A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king.
2: She never had so sweet a changeling;
2: And jealous Oberon would have the child
2: Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;
2: But she perforce withholds the loved boy,
2: Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy.
2: And now they never meet in grove or green,
2: By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen,
2: But they do square, that all their elves for fear
2: Creep into acorn cups and hide them there.
2: FAIRY. Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
2: Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
2: Call'd Robin Goodfellow. Are not you he
2: That frights the maidens of the villagery,
2: Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern,
2: And bootless make the breathless housewife churn,
2: And sometime make the drink to bear no barm,
2: Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?
2: Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck,
2: You do their work, and they shall have good luck.
2: Are not you he?
2: PUCK. Thou speakest aright:
2: I am that merry wanderer of the night.
2: I jest to Oberon, and make him smile
2: When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
2: Neighing in likeness of a filly foal;
2: And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl
2: In very likeness of a roasted crab,
2: And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob,
2: And on her withered dewlap pour the ale.
2: The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,
2: Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;
2: Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,
2: And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough;
2: And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh,
2: And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear
2: A merrier hour was never wasted there.
2: But room, fairy, here comes Oberon.
2: FAIRY. And here my mistress. Would that he were gone!
2: Enter OBERON at one door, with his TRAIN, and TITANIA,
2: at another, with hers
2: OBERON. Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.
2: TITANIA. What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence;
2: I have forsworn his bed and company.
2: OBERON. Tarry, rash wanton; am not I thy lord?
2: TITANIA. Then I must be thy lady; but I know
2: When thou hast stolen away from fairy land,
2: And in the shape of Corin sat all day,
2: Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love
2: To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here,
2: Come from the farthest steep of India,
2: But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon,
2: Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love,
2: To Theseus must be wedded, and you come
2: To give their bed joy and prosperity?
2: OBERON. How canst thou thus, for shame, Titania,
2: Glance at my credit with Hippolyta,
2: Knowing I know thy love to Theseus?
2: Didst not thou lead him through the glimmering night
2: From Perigouna, whom he ravished?
2: And make him with fair Aegles break his faith,
2: With Ariadne and Antiopa?
2: TITANIA. These are the forgeries of jealousy;
2: And never, since the middle summer's spring,
2: Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
2: By paved fountain, or by rushy brook,
2: Or in the beached margent of the sea,
2: To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
2: But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.
2: Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
2: As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea
2: Contagious fogs; which, falling in the land,
2: Hath every pelting river made so proud
2: That they have overborne their continents.
2: The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain,
2: The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn
2: Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard;
2: The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
2: And crows are fatted with the murrion flock;
2: The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud,
2: And the quaint mazes in the wanton green,
2: For lack of tread, are undistinguishable.
2: The human mortals want their winter here;
2: No night is now with hymn or carol blest;
2: Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,
2: Pale in her anger, washes all the air,
2: That rheumatic diseases do abound.
2: And thorough this distemperature we see
2: The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
2: Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose;
2: And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown
2: An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
2: Is, as in mockery, set. The spring, the summer,
2: The childing autumn, angry winter, change
2: Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world,
2: By their increase, now knows not which is which.
2: And this same progeny of evils comes
2: From our debate, from our dissension;
2: We are their parents and original.
2: OBERON. Do you amend it, then; it lies in you.
2: Why should Titania cross her Oberon?
2: I do but beg a little changeling boy
2: To be my henchman.
2: TITANIA. Set your heart at rest;
2: The fairy land buys not the child of me.
2: His mother was a vot'ress of my order;
2: And, in the spiced Indian air, by night,
2: Full often hath she gossip'd by my side;
2: And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands,
2: Marking th' embarked traders on the flood;
2: When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive,
2: And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind;
2: Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait
2: Following- her womb then rich with my young squire-
2: Would imitate, and sail upon the land,
2: To fetch me trifles, and return again,
2: As from a voyage, rich with merchandise.
2: But she, being mortal, of that boy did die;
2: And for her sake do I rear up her boy;
2: And for her sake I will not part with him.
2: OBERON. How long within this wood intend you stay?
2: TITANIA. Perchance till after Theseus' wedding-day.
2: If you will patiently dance in our round,
2: And see our moonlight revels, go with us;
2: If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts.
2: OBERON. Give me that boy and I will go with thee.
2: TITANIA. Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away.
2: We shall chide downright if I longer stay.
2: Exit TITANIA with her train
2: OBERON. Well, go thy way; thou shalt not from this grove
2: Till I torment thee for this injury.
2: My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememb'rest
2: Since once I sat upon a promontory,
2: And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back
2: Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath
2: That the rude sea grew civil at her song,
2: And certain stars shot madly from their spheres
2: To hear the sea-maid's music.
2: PUCK. I remember.
2: OBERON. That very time I saw, but thou couldst not,
2: Flying between the cold moon and the earth
2: Cupid, all arm'd; a certain aim he took
2: At a fair vestal, throned by the west,
2: And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow,
2: As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts;
2: But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft
2: Quench'd in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon;
2: And the imperial vot'ress passed on,
2: In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
2: Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell.
2: It fell upon a little western flower,
2: Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,
2: And maidens call it Love-in-idleness.
2: Fetch me that flow'r, the herb I showed thee once.
2: The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid
2: Will make or man or woman madly dote
2: Upon the next live creature that it sees.
2: Fetch me this herb, and be thou here again
2: Ere the leviathan can swim a league.
2: PUCK. I'll put a girdle round about the earth
2: In forty minutes.                                  Exit PUCK
2: OBERON. Having once this juice,
2: I'll watch Titania when she is asleep,
2: And drop the liquor of it in her eyes;
2: The next thing then she waking looks upon,
2: Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull,
2: On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,
2: She shall pursue it with the soul of love.
2: And ere I take this charm from off her sight,
2: As I can take it with another herb,
2: I'll make her render up her page to me.
2: But who comes here? I am invisible;
2: And I will overhear their conference.
2: Enter DEMETRIUS, HELENA following him
2: DEMETRIUS. I love thee not, therefore pursue me not.
2: Where is Lysander and fair Hermia?
2: The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me.
2: Thou told'st me they were stol'n unto this wood,
2: And here am I, and wood within this wood,
2: Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
2: Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.
2: HELENA. You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant;
2: But yet you draw not iron, for my heart
2: Is true as steel. Leave you your power to draw,
2: And I shall have no power to follow you.
2: DEMETRIUS. Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair?
2: Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth
2: Tell you I do not nor I cannot love you?
2: HELENA. And even for that do I love you the more.
2: I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius,
2: The more you beat me, I will fawn on you.
2: Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me,
2: Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave,
2: Unworthy as I am, to follow you.
2: What worser place can I beg in your love,
2: And yet a place of high respect with me,
2: Than to be used as you use your dog?
2: DEMETRIUS. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit;
2: For I am sick when I do look on thee.
2: HELENA. And I am sick when I look not on you.
2: DEMETRIUS. You do impeach your modesty too much
2: To leave the city and commit yourself
2: Into the hands of one that loves you not;
2: To trust the opportunity of night,
2: And the ill counsel of a desert place,
2: With the rich worth of your virginity.
2: HELENA. Your virtue is my privilege for that:
2: It is not night when I do see your face,
2: Therefore I think I am not in the night;
2: Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company,
2: For you, in my respect, are all the world.
2: Then how can it be said I am alone
2: When all the world is here to look on me?
2: DEMETRIUS. I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes,
2: And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.
2: HELENA. The wildest hath not such a heart as you.
2: Run when you will; the story shall be chang'd:
2: Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase;
2: The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind
2: Makes speed to catch the tiger- bootless speed,
2: When cowardice pursues and valour flies.
2: DEMETRIUS. I will not stay thy questions; let me go;
2: Or, if thou follow me, do not believe
2: But I shall do thee mischief in the wood.
2: HELENA. Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field,
2: You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius!
2: Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex.
2: We cannot fight for love as men may do;
2: We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo.
2: Exit DEMETRIUS
2: I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell,
2: To die upon the hand I love so well.             Exit HELENA
2: OBERON. Fare thee well, nymph; ere he do leave this grove,
2: Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love.
2: Re-enter PUCK
2: Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.
2: PUCK. Ay, there it is.
2: OBERON. I pray thee give it me.
2: I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
2: Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
2: Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
2: With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine;
2: There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
2: Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight;
2: And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin,
2: Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in;
2: And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes,
2: And make her full of hateful fantasies.
2: Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove:
2: A sweet Athenian lady is in love
2: With a disdainful youth; anoint his eyes;
2: But do it when the next thing he espies
2: May be the lady. Thou shalt know the man
2: By the Athenian garments he hath on.
2: Effect it with some care, that he may prove
2: More fond on her than she upon her love.
2: And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow.
2: PUCK. Fear not, my lord; your servant shall do so.      Exeunt
2: SCENE II.
2: Another part of the wood
2: Enter TITANIA, with her train
2: TITANIA. Come now, a roundel and a fairy song;
2: Then, for the third part of a minute, hence:
2: Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds;
2: Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings,
2: To make my small elves coats; and some keep back
2: The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders
2: At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep;
2: Then to your offices, and let me rest.
2: The FAIRIES Sing
2: FIRST FAIRY. You spotted snakes with double tongue,
2: Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
2: Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong,
2: Come not near our fairy Queen.
2: CHORUS.      Philomel with melody
2: Sing in our sweet lullaby.
2: Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby.
2: Never harm
2: Nor spell nor charm
2: Come our lovely lady nigh.
2: So good night, with lullaby.
2: SECOND FAIRY.  Weaving spiders, come not here;
2: Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence.
2: Beetles black, approach not near;
2: Worm nor snail do no offence.
2: CHORUS.      Philomel with melody, etc.       [TITANIA Sleeps]
2: FIRST FAIRY. Hence away; now all is well.
2: One aloof stand sentinel.          Exeunt FAIRIES
2: Enter OBERON and squeezes the flower on TITANIA'S eyelids
2: OBERON. What thou seest when thou dost wake,
2: Do it for thy true-love take;
2: Love and languish for his sake.
2: Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,
2: Pard, or boar with bristled hair,
2: In thy eye that shall appear
2: When thou wak'st, it is thy dear.
2: Wake when some vile thing is near.                      Exit
2: Enter LYSANDER and HERMIA
2: LYSANDER. Fair love, you faint with wand'ring in the wood;
2: And, to speak troth, I have forgot our way;
2: We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,
2: And tarry for the comfort of the day.
2: HERMIA. Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed,
2: For I upon this bank will rest my head.
2: LYSANDER. One turf shall serve as pillow for us both;
2: One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.
2: HERMIA. Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear,
2: Lie further off yet; do not lie so near.
2: LYSANDER. O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence!
2: Love takes the meaning in love's conference.
2: I mean that my heart unto yours is knit,
2: So that but one heart we can make of it;
2: Two bosoms interchained with an oath,
2: So then two bosoms and a single troth.
2: Then by your side no bed-room me deny,
2: For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.
2: HERMIA. Lysander riddles very prettily.
2: Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
2: If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied!
2: But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
2: Lie further off, in human modesty;
2: Such separation as may well be said
2: Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,
2: So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend.
2: Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end!
2: LYSANDER. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer say I;
2: And then end life when I end loyalty!
2: Here is my bed; sleep give thee all his rest!
2: HERMIA. With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd!
2: [They sleep]
2: Enter PUCK
2: PUCK.      Through the forest have I gone,
2: But Athenian found I none
2: On whose eyes I might approve
2: This flower's force in stirring love.
2: Night and silence- Who is here?
2: Weeds of Athens he doth wear:
2: This is he, my master said,
2: Despised the Athenian maid;
2: And here the maiden, sleeping sound,
2: On the dank and dirty ground.
2: Pretty soul! she durst not lie
2: Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.
2: Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
2: All the power this charm doth owe:
2: When thou wak'st let love forbid
2: Sleep his seat on thy eyelid.
2: So awake when I am gone;
2: For I must now to Oberon.                      Exit
2: Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running
2: HELENA. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.
2: DEMETRIUS. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
2: HELENA. O, wilt thou darkling leave me? Do not so.
2: DEMETRIUS. Stay on thy peril; I alone will go.            Exit
2: HELENA. O, I am out of breath in this fond chase!
2: The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.
2: Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies,
2: For she hath blessed and attractive eyes.
2: How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears;
2: If so, my eyes are oft'ner wash'd than hers.
2: No, no, I am as ugly as a bear,
2: For beasts that meet me run away for fear;
2: Therefore no marvel though Demetrius
2: Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus.
2: What wicked and dissembling glass of mine
2: Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne?
2: But who is here? Lysander! on the ground!
2: Dead, or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.
2: Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake.
2: LYSANDER. [Waking] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.
2: Transparent Helena! Nature shows art,
2: That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
2: Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word
2: Is that vile name to perish on my sword!
2: HELENA. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so.
2: What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though?
2: Yet Hermia still loves you; then be content.
2: LYSANDER. Content with Hermia! No: I do repent
2: The tedious minutes I with her have spent.
2: Not Hermia but Helena I love:
2: Who will not change a raven for a dove?
2: The will of man is by his reason sway'd,
2: And reason says you are the worthier maid.
2: Things growing are not ripe until their season;
2: So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason;
2: And touching now the point of human skill,
2: Reason becomes the marshal to my will,
2: And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook
2: Love's stories, written in Love's richest book.
2: HELENA. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?
2: When at your hands did I deserve this scorn?
2: Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man,
2: That I did never, no, nor never can,
2: Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye,
2: But you must flout my insufficiency?
2: Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do,
2: In such disdainful manner me to woo.
2: But fare you well; perforce I must confess
2: I thought you lord of more true gentleness.
2: O, that a lady of one man refus'd
2: Should of another therefore be abus'd!                  Exit
2: LYSANDER. She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there;
2: And never mayst thou come Lysander near!
2: For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things
2: The deepest loathing to the stomach brings,
2: Or as the heresies that men do leave
2: Are hated most of those they did deceive,
2: So thou, my surfeit and my heresy,
2: Of all be hated, but the most of me!
2: And, all my powers, address your love and might
2: To honour Helen, and to be her knight!                  Exit
2: HERMIA. [Starting] Help me, Lysander, help me; do thy best
2: To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast.
2: Ay me, for pity! What a dream was here!
2: Lysander, look how I do quake with fear.
2: Methought a serpent eat my heart away,
2: And you sat smiling at his cruel prey.
2: Lysander! What, remov'd? Lysander! lord!
2: What, out of hearing gone? No sound, no word?
2: Alack, where are you? Speak, an if you hear;
2: Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear.
2: No? Then I well perceive you are not nigh.
2: Either death or you I'll find immediately.              Exit
2: ACT III. SCENE I.
2: The wood. TITANIA lying asleep
2: Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING
2: BOTTOM. Are we all met?
2: QUINCE. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our
2: rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn
2: brake our tiring-house; and we will do it in action, as we will
2: do it before the Duke.
2: BOTTOM. Peter Quince!
2: QUINCE. What sayest thou, bully Bottom?
2: BOTTOM. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that
2: will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill
2: himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?
2: SNOUT. By'r lakin, a parlous fear.
2: STARVELING. I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is
2: done.
2: BOTTOM. Not a whit; I have a device to make all well. Write me a
2: prologue; and let the prologue seem to say we will do no harm
2: with our swords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeed; and for
2: the more better assurance, tell them that I Pyramus am not
2: Pyramus but Bottom the weaver. This will put them out of fear.
2: QUINCE. Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written
2: in eight and six.
2: BOTTOM. No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.
2: SNOUT. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion?
2: STARVELING. I fear it, I promise you.
2: BOTTOM. Masters, you ought to consider with yourself to bring in-
2: God shield us!- a lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing; for
2: there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living; and
2: we ought to look to't.
2: SNOUT. Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion.
2: BOTTOM. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen
2: through the lion's neck; and he himself must speak through,
2: saying thus, or to the same defect: 'Ladies,' or 'Fair ladies, I
2: would wish you' or 'I would request you' or 'I would entreat you
2: not to fear, not to tremble. My life for yours! If you think I
2: come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life. No, I am no such
2: thing; I am a man as other men are.' And there, indeed, let him
2: name his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner.
2: QUINCE. Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things- that
2: is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus
2: and Thisby meet by moonlight.
2: SNOUT. Doth the moon shine that night we play our play?
2: BOTTOM. A calendar, a calendar! Look in the almanack; find out
2: moonshine, find out moonshine.
2: QUINCE. Yes, it doth shine that night.
2: BOTTOM. Why, then may you leave a casement of the great chamber
2: window, where we play, open; and the moon may shine in at the
2: casement.
2: QUINCE. Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a
2: lantern, and say he comes to disfigure or to present the person
2: of Moonshine. Then there is another thing: we must have a wall in
2: the great chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did
2: talk through the chink of a wall.
2: SNOUT. You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom?
2: BOTTOM. Some man or other must present Wall; and let him have some
2: plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about him, to signify
2: wall; and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny
2: shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper.
2: QUINCE. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every
2: mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin; when
2: you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake; and so every
2: one according to his cue.
2: Enter PUCK behind
2: PUCK. What hempen homespuns have we swagg'ring here,
2: So near the cradle of the Fairy Queen?
2: What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor;
2: An actor too perhaps, if I see cause.
2: QUINCE. Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth.
2: BOTTOM. Thisby, the flowers of odious savours sweet-
2: QUINCE. 'Odious'- odorous!
2: BOTTOM. -odours savours sweet;
2: So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear.
2: But hark, a voice! Stay thou but here awhile,
2: And by and by I will to thee appear.                    Exit
2: PUCK. A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here!           Exit
2: FLUTE. Must I speak now?
2: QUINCE. Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes but to
2: see a noise that he heard, and is to come again.
2: FLUTE. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue,
2: Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier,
2: Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew,
2: As true as truest horse, that would never tire,
2: I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb.
2: QUINCE. 'Ninus' tomb,' man! Why, you must not speak that yet; that
2: you answer to Pyramus. You speak all your part at once, cues, and
2: all. Pyramus enter: your cue is past; it is 'never tire.'
2: FLUTE. O- As true as truest horse, that y et would never tire.
2: Re-enter PUCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head
2: BOTTOM. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine.
2: QUINCE. O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted. Pray, masters! fly,
2: masters! Help!
2: Exeunt all but BOTTOM and PUCK
2: PUCK. I'll follow you; I'll lead you about a round,
2: Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier;
2: Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound,
2: A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;
2: And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,
2: Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.
2: Exit
2: BOTTOM. Why do they run away? This is a knavery of them to make me
2: afeard.
2: Re-enter SNOUT
2: SNOUT. O Bottom, thou art chang'd! What do I see on thee?
2: BOTTOM. What do you see? You see an ass-head of your own, do you?
2: Exit SNOUT
2: Re-enter QUINCE
2: QUINCE. Bless thee, Bottom, bless thee! Thou art translated.
2: Exit
2: BOTTOM. I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; to
2: fright me, if they could. But I will not stir from this place, do
2: what they can; I will walk up and down here, and will sing, that
2: they shall hear I am not afraid.                     [Sings]
2: The ousel cock, so black of hue,
2: With orange-tawny bill,
2: The throstle with his note so true,
2: The wren with little quill.
2: TITANIA. What angel wakes me from my flow'ry bed?
2: BOTTOM. [Sings]
2: The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
2: The plain-song cuckoo grey,
2: Whose note full many a man doth mark,
2: And dares not answer nay-
2: for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird?
2: Who would give a bird the he, though he cry 'cuckoo' never so?
2: TITANIA. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again.
2: Mine ear is much enamoured of thy note;
2: So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape;
2: And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me,
2: On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee.
2: BOTTOM. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that.
2: And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company
2: together now-a-days. The more the pity that some honest
2: neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon
2: occasion.
2: TITANIA. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
2: BOTTOM. Not so, neither; but if I had wit enough to get out of this
2: wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.
2: TITANIA. Out of this wood do not desire to go;
2: Thou shalt remain here whether thou wilt or no.
2: I am a spirit of no common rate;
2: The summer still doth tend upon my state;
2: And I do love thee; therefore, go with me.
2: I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee;
2: And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,
2: And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep;
2: And I will purge thy mortal grossness so
2: That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.
2: Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!
2: Enter PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, and MUSTARDSEED
2: PEASEBLOSSOM. Ready.
2: COBWEB. And I.
2: MOTH. And I.
2: MUSTARDSEED. And I.
2: ALL. Where shall we go?
2: TITANIA. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman;
2: Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes;
2: Feed him with apricocks and dewberries,
2: With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries;
2: The honey bags steal from the humble-bees,
2: And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs,
2: And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes,
2: To have my love to bed and to arise;
2: And pluck the wings from painted butterflies,
2: To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.
2: Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.
2: PEASEBLOSSOM. Hail, mortal!
2: COBWEB. Hail!
2: MOTH. Hail!
2: MUSTARDSEED. Hail!
2: BOTTOM. I cry your worships mercy, heartily; I beseech your
2: worship's name.
2: COBWEB. Cobweb.
2: BOTTOM. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master
2: Cobweb. If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your
2: name, honest gentleman?
2: PEASEBLOSSOM. Peaseblossom.
2: BOTTOM. I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and
2: to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall
2: desire you of more acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you,
2: sir?
2: MUSTARDSEED. Mustardseed.
2: BOTTOM. Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well. That
2: same cowardly giant-like ox-beef hath devour'd many a gentleman
2: of your house. I promise you your kindred hath made my eyes water
2: ere now. I desire you of more acquaintance, good Master
2: Mustardseed.
2: TITANIA. Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower.
2: The moon, methinks, looks with a wat'ry eye;
2: And when she weeps, weeps every little flower;
2: Lamenting some enforced chastity.
2: Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently.          Exeunt
2: SCENE II.
2: Another part of the wood
2: Enter OBERON
2: OBERON. I wonder if Titania be awak'd;
2: Then, what it was that next came in her eye,
2: Which she must dote on in extremity.
2: Enter PUCK
2: Here comes my messenger. How now, mad spirit!
2: What night-rule now about this haunted grove?
2: PUCK. My mistress with a monster is in love.
2: Near to her close and consecrated bower,
2: While she was in her dull and sleeping hour,
2: A crew of patches, rude mechanicals,
2: That work for bread upon Athenian stalls,
2: Were met together to rehearse a play
2: Intended for great Theseus' nuptial day.
2: The shallowest thickskin of that barren sort,
2: Who Pyramus presented, in their sport
2: Forsook his scene and ent'red in a brake;
2: When I did him at this advantage take,
2: An ass's nole I fixed on his head.
2: Anon his Thisby must be answered,
2: And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy,
2: As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
2: Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort,
2: Rising and cawing at the gun's report,
2: Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky,
2: So at his sight away his fellows fly;
2: And at our stamp here, o'er and o'er one falls;
2: He murder cries, and help from Athens calls.
2: Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong,
2: Made senseless things begin to do them wrong,
2: For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch;
2: Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch.
2: I led them on in this distracted fear,
2: And left sweet Pyramus translated there;
2: When in that moment, so it came to pass,
2: Titania wak'd, and straightway lov'd an ass.
2: OBERON. This falls out better than I could devise.
2: But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes
2: With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do?
2: PUCK. I took him sleeping- that is finish'd too-
2: And the Athenian woman by his side;
2: That, when he wak'd, of force she must be ey'd.
2: Enter DEMETRIUS and HERMIA
2: OBERON. Stand close; this is the same Athenian.
2: PUCK. This is the woman, but not this the man.
2: DEMETRIUS. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so?
2: Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
2: HERMIA. Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse,
2: For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse.
2: If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep,
2: Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep,
2: And kill me too.
2: The sun was not so true unto the day
2: As he to me. Would he have stolen away
2: From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon
2: This whole earth may be bor'd, and that the moon
2: May through the centre creep and so displease
2: Her brother's noontide with th' Antipodes.
2: It cannot be but thou hast murd'red him;
2: So should a murderer look- so dead, so grim.
2: DEMETRIUS. So should the murdered look; and so should I,
2: Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelty;
2: Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear,
2: As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.
2: HERMIA. What's this to my Lysander? Where is he?
2: Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
2: DEMETRIUS. I had rather give his carcass to my hounds.
2: HERMIA. Out, dog! out, cur! Thou driv'st me past the bounds
2: Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then?
2: Henceforth be never numb'red among men!
2: O, once tell true; tell true, even for my sake!
2: Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake,
2: And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch!
2: Could not a worm, an adder, do so much?
2: An adder did it; for with doubler tongue
2: Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.
2: DEMETRIUS. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood:
2: I am not guilty of Lysander's blood;
2: Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.
2: HERMIA. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.
2: DEMETRIUS. An if I could, what should I get therefore?
2: HERMIA. A privilege never to see me more.
2: And from thy hated presence part I so;
2: See me no more whether he be dead or no.                Exit
2: DEMETRIUS. There is no following her in this fierce vein;
2: Here, therefore, for a while I will remain.
2: So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow
2: For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe;
2: Which now in some slight measure it will pay,
2: If for his tender here I make some stay.         [Lies down]
2: OBERON. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite,
2: And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight.
2: Of thy misprision must perforce ensue
2: Some true love turn'd, and not a false turn'd true.
2: PUCK. Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth,
2: A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
2: OBERON. About the wood go swifter than the wind,
2: And Helena of Athens look thou find;
2: All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer,
2: With sighs of love that costs the fresh blood dear.
2: By some illusion see thou bring her here;
2: I'll charm his eyes against she do appear.
2: PUCK. I go, I go; look how I go,
2: Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.               Exit
2: OBERON.       Flower of this purple dye,
2: Hit with Cupid's archery,
2: Sink in apple of his eye.
2: When his love he doth espy,
2: Let her shine as gloriously
2: As the Venus of the sky.
2: When thou wak'st, if she be by,
2: Beg of her for remedy.
2: Re-enter PUCK
2: PUCK.         Captain of our fairy band,
2: Helena is here at hand,
2: And the youth mistook by me
2: Pleading for a lover's fee;
2: Shall we their fond pageant see?
2: Lord, what fools these mortals be!
2: OBERON.       Stand aside. The noise they make
2: Will cause Demetrius to awake.
2: PUCK.         Then will two at once woo one.
2: That must needs be sport alone;
2: And those things do best please me
2: That befall prepost'rously.
2: Enter LYSANDER and HELENA
2: LYSANDER. Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?
2: Scorn and derision never come in tears.
2: Look when I vow, I weep; and vows so born,
2: In their nativity all truth appears.
2: How can these things in me seem scorn to you,
2: Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
2: HELENA. You do advance your cunning more and more.
2: When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray!
2: These vows are Hermia's. Will you give her o'er?
2: Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh:
2: Your vows to her and me, put in two scales,
2: Will even weigh; and both as light as tales.
2: LYSANDER. I hod no judgment when to her I swore.
2: HELENA. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er.
2: LYSANDER. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.
2: DEMETRIUS. [Awaking] O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
2: To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?
2: Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show
2: Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
2: That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow,
2: Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow
2: When thou hold'st up thy hand. O, let me kiss
2: This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!
2: HELENA. O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent
2: To set against me for your merriment.
2: If you were civil and knew courtesy,
2: You would not do me thus much injury.
2: Can you not hate me, as I know you do,
2: But you must join in souls to mock me too?
2: If you were men, as men you are in show,
2: You would not use a gentle lady so:
2: To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts,
2: When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
2: You both are rivals, and love Hermia;
2: And now both rivals, to mock Helena.
2: A trim exploit, a manly enterprise,
2: To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes
2: With your derision! None of noble sort
2: Would so offend a virgin, and extort
2: A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport.
2: LYSANDER. You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so;
2: For you love Hermia. This you know I know;
2: And here, with all good will, with all my heart,
2: In Hermia's love I yield you up my part;
2: And yours of Helena to me bequeath,
2: Whom I do love and will do till my death.
2: HELENA. Never did mockers waste more idle breath.
2: DEMETRIUS. Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none.
2: If e'er I lov'd her, all that love is gone.
2: My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd,
2: And now to Helen is it home return'd,
2: There to remain.
2: LYSANDER. Helen, it is not so.
2: DEMETRIUS. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
2: Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear.
2: Look where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear.
2: Enter HERMIA
2: HERMIA. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,
2: The ear more quick of apprehension makes;
2: Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense,
2: It pays the hearing double recompense.
2: Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found;
2: Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound.
2: But why unkindly didst thou leave me so?
2: LYSANDER. Why should he stay whom love doth press to go?
2: HERMIA. What love could press Lysander from my side?
2: LYSANDER. Lysander's love, that would not let him bide-
2: Fair Helena, who more engilds the night
2: Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light.
2: Why seek'st thou me? Could not this make thee know
2: The hate I bare thee made me leave thee so?
2: HERMIA. You speak not as you think; it cannot be.
2: HELENA. Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
2: Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three
2: To fashion this false sport in spite of me.
2: Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!
2: Have you conspir'd, have you with these contriv'd,
2: To bait me with this foul derision?
2: Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd,
2: The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent,
2: When we have chid the hasty-footed time
2: For parting us- O, is all forgot?
2: All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence?
2: We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,
2: Have with our needles created both one flower,
2: Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
2: Both warbling of one song, both in one key;
2: As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds,
2: Had been incorporate. So we grew together,
2: Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
2: But yet an union in partition,
2: Two lovely berries moulded on one stern;
2: So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;
2: Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
2: Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.
2: And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
2: To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
2: It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly;
2: Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,
2: Though I alone do feel the injury.
2: HERMIA. I am amazed at your passionate words;
2: I scorn you not; it seems that you scorn me.
2: HELENA. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,
2: To follow me and praise my eyes and face?
2: And made your other love, Demetrius,
2: Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,
2: To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare,
2: Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this
2: To her he hates? And wherefore doth Lysander
2: Deny your love, so rich within his soul,
2: And tender me, forsooth, affection,
2: But by your setting on, by your consent?
2: What though I be not so in grace as you,
2: So hung upon with love, so fortunate,
2: But miserable most, to love unlov'd?
2: This you should pity rather than despise.
2: HERMIA. I understand not what you mean by this.
2: HELENA. Ay, do- persever, counterfeit sad looks,
2: Make mouths upon me when I turn my back,
2: Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up;
2: This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.
2: If you have any pity, grace, or manners,
2: You would not make me such an argument.
2: But fare ye well; 'tis partly my own fault,
2: Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy.
2: LYSANDER. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse;
2: My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena!
2: HELENA. O excellent!
2: HERMIA. Sweet, do not scorn her so.
2: DEMETRIUS. If she cannot entreat, I can compel.
2: LYSANDER. Thou canst compel no more than she entreat;
2: Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers
2: Helen, I love thee, by my life I do;
2: I swear by that which I will lose for thee
2: To prove him false that says I love thee not.
2: DEMETRIUS. I say I love thee more than he can do.
2: LYSANDER. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.
2: DEMETRIUS. Quick, come.
2: HERMIA. Lysander, whereto tends all this?
2: LYSANDER. Away, you Ethiope!
2: DEMETRIUS. No, no, he will
2: Seem to break loose- take on as you would follow,
2: But yet come not. You are a tame man; go!
2: LYSANDER. Hang off, thou cat, thou burr; vile thing, let loose,
2: Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent.
2: HERMIA. Why are you grown so rude? What change is this,
2: Sweet love?
2: LYSANDER. Thy love! Out, tawny Tartar, out!
2: Out, loathed med'cine! O hated potion, hence!
2: HERMIA. Do you not jest?
2: HELENA. Yes, sooth; and so do you.
2: LYSANDER. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee.
2: DEMETRIUS. I would I had your bond; for I perceive
2: A weak bond holds you; I'll not trust your word.
2: LYSANDER. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?
2: Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so.
2: HERMIA. What! Can you do me greater harm than hate?
2: Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love?
2: Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander?
2: I am as fair now as I was erewhile.
2: Since night you lov'd me; yet since night you left me.
2: Why then, you left me- O, the gods forbid!-
2: In earnest, shall I say?
2: LYSANDER. Ay, by my life!
2: And never did desire to see thee more.
2: Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt;
2: Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest
2: That I do hate thee and love Helena.
2: HERMIA. O me! you juggler! you cankerblossom!
2: You thief of love! What! Have you come by night,
2: And stol'n my love's heart from him?
2: HELENA. Fine, i' faith!
2: Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,
2: No touch of bashfulness? What! Will you tear
2: Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?
2: Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet you!
2: HERMIA. 'Puppet!' why so? Ay, that way goes the game.
2: Now I perceive that she hath made compare
2: Between our statures; she hath urg'd her height;
2: And with her personage, her tall personage,
2: Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.
2: And are you grown so high in his esteem
2: Because I am so dwarfish and so low?
2: How low am I, thou painted maypole? Speak.
2: How low am I? I am not yet so low
2: But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.
2: HELENA. I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen,
2: Let her not hurt me. I was never curst;
2: I have no gift at all in shrewishness;
2: I am a right maid for my cowardice;
2: Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think,
2: Because she is something lower than myself,
2: That I can match her.
2: HERMIA. 'Lower' hark, again.
2: HELENA. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me.
2: I evermore did love you, Hermia,
2: Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you;
2: Save that, in love unto Demetrius,
2: I told him of your stealth unto this wood.
2: He followed you; for love I followed him;
2: But he hath chid me hence, and threat'ned me
2: To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too;
2: And now, so you will let me quiet go,
2: To Athens will I bear my folly back,
2: And follow you no further. Let me go.
2: You see how simple and how fond I am.
2: HERMIA. Why, get you gone! Who is't that hinders you?
2: HELENA. A foolish heart that I leave here behind.
2: HERMIA. What! with Lysander?
2: HELENA. With Demetrius.
2: LYSANDER. Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena.
2: DEMETRIUS. No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part.
2: HELENA. O, when she is angry, she is keen and shrewd;
2: She was a vixen when she went to school;
2: And, though she be but little, she is fierce.
2: HERMIA. 'Little' again! Nothing but 'low' and 'little'!
2: Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
2: Let me come to her.
2: LYSANDER. Get you gone, you dwarf;
2: You minimus, of hind'ring knot-grass made;
2: You bead, you acorn.
2: DEMETRIUS. You are too officious
2: In her behalf that scorns your services.
2: Let her alone; speak not of Helena;
2: Take not her part; for if thou dost intend
2: Never so little show of love to her,
2: Thou shalt aby it.
2: LYSANDER. Now she holds me not.
2: Now follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose right,
2: Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.
2: DEMETRIUS. Follow! Nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jowl.
2: Exeunt LYSANDER and DEMETRIUS
2: HERMIA. You, mistress, all this coil is long of you.
2: Nay, go not back.
2: HELENA. I will not trust you, I;
2: Nor longer stay in your curst company.
2: Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray;
2: My legs are longer though, to run away.                 Exit
2: HERMIA. I am amaz'd, and know not what to say.            Exit
2: OBERON. This is thy negligence. Still thou mistak'st,
2: Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully.
2: PUCK. Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.
2: Did not you tell me I should know the man
2: By the Athenian garments he had on?
2: And so far blameless proves my enterprise
2: That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes;
2: And so far am I glad it so did sort,
2: As this their jangling I esteem a sport.
2: OBERON. Thou seest these lovers seek a place to fight.
2: Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night;
2: The starry welkin cover thou anon
2: With drooping fog as black as Acheron,
2: And lead these testy rivals so astray
2: As one come not within another's way.
2: Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue,
2: Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong;
2: And sometime rail thou like Demetrius;
2: And from each other look thou lead them thus,
2: Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep
2: With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep.
2: Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye;
2: Whose liquor hath this virtuous property,
2: To take from thence all error with his might
2: And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight.
2: When they next wake, all this derision
2: Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision;
2: And back to Athens shall the lovers wend
2: With league whose date till death shall never end.
2: Whiles I in this affair do thee employ,
2: I'll to my queen, and beg her Indian boy;
2: And then I will her charmed eye release
2: From monster's view, and all things shall be peace.
2: PUCK. My fairy lord, this must be done with haste,
2: For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast;
2: And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger,
2: At whose approach ghosts, wand'ring here and there,
2: Troop home to churchyards. Damned spirits all
2: That in cross-ways and floods have burial,
2: Already to their wormy beds are gone,
2: For fear lest day should look their shames upon;
2: They wilfully themselves exil'd from light,
2: And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.
2: OBERON. But we are spirits of another sort:
2: I with the Morning's love have oft made sport;
2: And, like a forester, the groves may tread
2: Even till the eastern gate, all fiery red,
2: Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams,
2: Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams.
2: But, notwithstanding, haste, make no delay;
2: We may effect this business yet ere day.         Exit OBERON
2: PUCK.      Up and down, up and down,
2: I will lead them up and down.
2: I am fear'd in field and town.
2: Goblin, lead them up and down.
2: Here comes one.
2: Enter LYSANDER
2: LYSANDER. Where art thou, proud Demetrius? Speak thou now.
2: PUCK. Here, villain, drawn and ready. Where art thou?
2: LYSANDER. I will be with thee straight.
2: PUCK. Follow me, then,
2: To plainer ground.      Exit LYSANDER as following the voice
2: Enter DEMETRIUS
2: DEMETRIUS. Lysander, speak again.
2: Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?
2: Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head?
2: PUCK. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
2: Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,
2: And wilt not come? Come, recreant, come, thou child;
2: I'll whip thee with a rod. He is defil'd
2: That draws a sword on thee.
2: DEMETRIUS. Yea, art thou there?
2: PUCK. Follow my voice; we'll try no manhood here.       Exeunt
2: Re-enter LYSANDER
2: LYSANDER. He goes before me, and still dares me on;
2: When I come where he calls, then he is gone.
2: The villain is much lighter heel'd than I.
2: I followed fast, but faster he did fly,
2: That fallen am I in dark uneven way,
2: And here will rest me. [Lies down] Come, thou gentle day.
2: For if but once thou show me thy grey light,
2: I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite.        [Sleeps]
2: Re-enter PUCK and DEMETRIUS
2: PUCK. Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why com'st thou not?
2: DEMETRIUS. Abide me, if thou dar'st; for well I wot
2: Thou run'st before me, shifting every place,
2: And dar'st not stand, nor look me in the face.
2: Where art thou now?
2: PUCK. Come hither; I am here.
2: DEMETRIUS. Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear,
2: If ever I thy face by daylight see;
2: Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me
2: To measure out my length on this cold bed.
2: By day's approach look to be visited.
2: [Lies down and sleeps]
2: Enter HELENA
2: HELENA. O weary night, O long and tedious night,
2: Abate thy hours! Shine comforts from the east,
2: That I may back to Athens by daylight,
2: From these that my poor company detest.
2: And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye,
2: Steal me awhile from mine own company.              [Sleeps]
2: PUCK.       Yet but three? Come one more;
2: Two of both kinds makes up four.
2: Here she comes, curst and sad.
2: Cupid is a knavish lad,
2: Thus to make poor females mad.
2: Enter HERMIA
2: HERMIA. Never so weary, never so in woe,
2: Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers,
2: I can no further crawl, no further go;
2: My legs can keep no pace with my desires.
2: Here will I rest me till the break of day.
2: Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!
2: [Lies down and sleeps]
2: PUCK.          On the ground
2: Sleep sound;
2: I'll apply
2: To your eye,
2: Gentle lover, remedy.
2: [Squeezing the juice on LYSANDER'S eyes]
2: When thou wak'st,
2: Thou tak'st
2: True delight
2: In the sight
2: Of thy former lady's eye;
2: And the country proverb known,
2: That every man should take his own,
2: In your waking shall be shown:
2: Jack shall have Jill;
2: Nought shall go ill;
2: The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well.
2: Exit
2: ACT IV. SCENE I.
2: The wood. LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HELENA, and HERMIA, lying asleep
2: Enter TITANIA and Bottom; PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, MUSTARDSEED,
2: and other FAIRIES attending;
2: OBERON behind, unseen
2: TITANIA. Come, sit thee down upon this flow'ry bed,
2: While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,
2: And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,
2: And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.
2: BOTTOM. Where's Peaseblossom?
2: PEASEBLOSSOM. Ready.
2: BOTTOM. Scratch my head, Peaseblossom.
2: Where's Mounsieur Cobweb?
2: COBWEB. Ready.
2: BOTTOM. Mounsieur Cobweb; good mounsieur, get you your weapons in
2: your hand and kill me a red-hipp'd humble-bee on the top of a
2: thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret
2: yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, good mounsieur,
2: have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you
2: overflown with a honey-bag, signior. Where's Mounsieur
2: Mustardseed?
2: MUSTARDSEED. Ready.
2: BOTTOM. Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave
2: your curtsy, good mounsieur.
2: MUSTARDSEED. What's your will?
2: BOTTOM. Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to
2: scratch. I must to the barber's, mounsieur; for methinks I am
2: marvellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if
2: my hair do but tickle me I must scratch.
2: TITANIA. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?
2: BOTTOM. I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's have the tongs
2: and the bones.
2: TITANIA. Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat.
2: BOTTOM. Truly, a peck of provender; I could munch your good dry
2: oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay. Good
2: hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
2: TITANIA. I have a venturous fairy that shall seek
2: The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts.
2: BOTTOM. I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I
2: pray you, let none of your people stir me; I have an exposition
2: of sleep come upon me.
2: TITANIA. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.
2: Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away.       Exeunt FAIRIES
2: So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle
2: Gently entwist; the female ivy so
2: Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.
2: O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee!         [They sleep]
2: Enter PUCK
2: OBERON. [Advancing] Welcome, good Robin. Seest thou this sweet
2: sight?
2: Her dotage now I do begin to pity;
2: For, meeting her of late behind the wood,
2: Seeking sweet favours for this hateful fool,
2: I did upbraid her and fall out with her.
2: For she his hairy temples then had rounded
2: With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
2: And that same dew which sometime on the buds
2: Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls
2: Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes,
2: Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.
2: When I had at my pleasure taunted her,
2: And she in mild terms begg'd my patience,
2: I then did ask of her her changeling child;
2: Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent
2: To bear him to my bower in fairy land.
2: And now I have the boy, I will undo
2: This hateful imperfection of her eyes.
2: And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp
2: From off the head of this Athenian swain,
2: That he awaking when the other do
2: May all to Athens back again repair,
2: And think no more of this night's accidents
2: But as the fierce vexation of a dream.
2: But first I will release the Fairy Queen.
2: [Touching her eyes]
2: Be as thou wast wont to be;
2: See as thou was wont to see.
2: Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower
2: Hath such force and blessed power.
2: Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.
2: TITANIA. My Oberon! What visions have I seen!
2: Methought I was enamour'd of an ass.
2: OBERON. There lies your love.
2: TITANIA. How came these things to pass?
2: O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now!
2: OBERON. Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head.
2: Titania, music call; and strike more dead
2: Than common sleep of all these five the sense.
2: TITANIA. Music, ho, music, such as charmeth sleep!
2: PUCK. Now when thou wak'st with thine own fool's eyes peep.
2: OBERON. Sound, music. Come, my Queen, take hands with me,
2: [Music]
2: And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
2: Now thou and I are new in amity,
2: And will to-morrow midnight solemnly
2: Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly,
2: And bless it to all fair prosperity.
2: There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
2: Wedded, with Theseus, an in jollity.
2: PUCK.       Fairy King, attend and mark;
2: I do hear the morning lark.
2: OBERON.     Then, my Queen, in silence sad,
2: Trip we after night's shade.
2: We the globe can compass soon,
2: Swifter than the wand'ring moon.
2: TITANIA.    Come, my lord; and in our flight,
2: Tell me how it came this night
2: That I sleeping here was found
2: With these mortals on the ground.           Exeunt
2: To the winding of horns, enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA,
2: EGEUS, and train
2: THESEUS. Go, one of you, find out the forester;
2: For now our observation is perform'd,
2: And since we have the vaward of the day,
2: My love shall hear the music of my hounds.
2: Uncouple in the western valley; let them go.
2: Dispatch, I say, and find the forester.    Exit an ATTENDANT
2: We will, fair Queen, up to the mountain's top,
2: And mark the musical confusion
2: Of hounds and echo in conjunction.
2: HIPPOLYTA. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once
2: When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear
2: With hounds of Sparta; never did I hear
2: Such gallant chiding, for, besides the groves,
2: The skies, the fountains, every region near
2: Seem'd all one mutual cry. I never heard
2: So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.
2: THESEUS. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
2: So flew'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung
2: With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
2: Crook-knee'd and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls;
2: Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,
2: Each under each. A cry more tuneable
2: Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,
2: In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly.
2: Judge when you hear. But, soft, what nymphs are these?
2: EGEUS. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep,
2: And this Lysander, this Demetrius is,
2: This Helena, old Nedar's Helena.
2: I wonder of their being here together.
2: THESEUS. No doubt they rose up early to observe
2: The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
2: Came here in grace of our solemnity.
2: But speak, Egeus; is not this the day
2: That Hermia should give answer of her choice?
2: EGEUS. It is, my lord.
2: THESEUS. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.
2: [Horns and shout within. The sleepers
2: awake and kneel to THESEUS]
2: Good-morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past;
2: Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?
2: LYSANDER. Pardon, my lord.
2: THESEUS. I pray you all, stand up.
2: I know you two are rival enemies;
2: How comes this gentle concord in the world
2: That hatred is so far from jealousy
2: To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity?
2: LYSANDER. My lord, I shall reply amazedly,
2: Half sleep, half waking; but as yet, I swear,
2: I cannot truly say how I came here,
2: But, as I think- for truly would I speak,
2: And now I do bethink me, so it is-
2: I came with Hermia hither. Our intent
2: Was to be gone from Athens, where we might,
2: Without the peril of the Athenian law-
2: EGEUS. Enough, enough, my Lord; you have enough;
2: I beg the law, the law upon his head.
2: They would have stol'n away, they would, Demetrius,
2: Thereby to have defeated you and me:
2: You of your wife, and me of my consent,
2: Of my consent that she should be your wife.
2: DEMETRIUS. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,
2: Of this their purpose hither to this wood;
2: And I in fury hither followed them,
2: Fair Helena in fancy following me.
2: But, my good lord, I wot not by what power-
2: But by some power it is- my love to Hermia,
2: Melted as the snow, seems to me now
2: As the remembrance of an idle gaud
2: Which in my childhood I did dote upon;
2: And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,
2: The object and the pleasure of mine eye,
2: Is only Helena. To her, my lord,
2: Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia.
2: But, like a sickness, did I loathe this food;
2: But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
2: Now I do wish it, love it, long for it,
2: And will for evermore be true to it.
2: THESEUS. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met;
2: Of this discourse we more will hear anon.
2: Egeus, I will overbear your will;
2: For in the temple, by and by, with us
2: These couples shall eternally be knit.
2: And, for the morning now is something worn,
2: Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.
2: Away with us to Athens, three and three;
2: We'll hold a feast in great solemnity.
2: Come, Hippolyta.
2: Exeunt THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train
2: DEMETRIUS. These things seem small and undistinguishable,
2: Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.
2: HERMIA. Methinks I see these things with parted eye,
2: When every thing seems double.
2: HELENA. So methinks;
2: And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,
2: Mine own, and not mine own.
2: DEMETRIUS. Are you sure
2: That we are awake? It seems to me
2: That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think
2: The Duke was here, and bid us follow him?
2: HERMIA. Yea, and my father.
2: HELENA. And Hippolyta.
2: LYSANDER. And he did bid us follow to the temple.
2: DEMETRIUS. Why, then, we are awake; let's follow him;
2: And by the way let us recount our dreams.             Exeunt
2: BOTTOM. [Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer. My
2: next is 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the
2: bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life,
2: stol'n hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision.
2: I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.
2: Man is but an ass if he go about to expound this dream. Methought
2: I was- there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and
2: methought I had, but man is but a patch'd fool, if he will offer
2: to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the
2: ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his
2: tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I
2: will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream. It shall
2: be call'd 'Bottom's Dream,' because it hath no bottom; and I will
2: sing it in the latter end of a play, before the Duke.
2: Peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at
2: her death.                                              Exit
2: SCENE II.
2: Athens. QUINCE'S house
2: Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING
2: QUINCE. Have you sent to Bottom's house? Is he come home yet?
2: STARVELING. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is transported.
2: FLUTE. If he come not, then the play is marr'd; it goes not
2: forward, doth it?
2: QUINCE. It is not possible. You have not a man in all Athens able
2: to discharge Pyramus but he.
2: FLUTE. No; he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft man in
2: Athens.
2: QUINCE. Yea, and the best person too; and he is a very paramour for
2: a sweet voice.
2: FLUTE. You must say 'paragon.' A paramour is- God bless us!- A
2: thing of naught.
2: Enter SNUG
2: SNUG. Masters, the Duke is coming from the temple; and there is two
2: or three lords and ladies more married. If our sport had gone
2: forward, we had all been made men.
2: FLUTE. O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence a day
2: during his life; he could not have scaped sixpence a day. An the
2: Duke had not given him sixpence a day for playing Pyramus, I'll
2: be hanged. He would have deserved it: sixpence a day in Pyramus,
2: or nothing.
2: Enter BOTTOM
2: BOTTOM. Where are these lads? Where are these hearts?
2: QUINCE. Bottom! O most courageous day! O most happy hour!
2: BOTTOM. Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask me not what;
2: for if I tell you, I am not true Athenian. I will tell you
2: everything, right as it fell out.
2: QUINCE. Let us hear, sweet Bottom.
2: BOTTOM. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that the
2: Duke hath dined. Get your apparel together; good strings to your
2: beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the palace;
2: every man look o'er his part; for the short and the long is, our
2: play is preferr'd. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and
2: let not him that plays the lion pare his nails, for they shall
2: hang out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no
2: onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not
2: doubt but to hear them say it is a sweet comedy. No more words.
2: Away, go, away!                                       Exeunt
2: ACT V. SCENE I.
2: Athens. The palace of THESEUS
2: Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, LORDS, and ATTENDANTS
2: HIPPOLYTA. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.
2: THESEUS. More strange than true. I never may believe
2: These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
2: Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
2: Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
2: More than cool reason ever comprehends.
2: The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,
2: Are of imagination all compact.
2: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;
2: That is the madman. The lover, all as frantic,
2: Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.
2: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
2: Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
2: And as imagination bodies forth
2: The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
2: Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
2: A local habitation and a name.
2: Such tricks hath strong imagination
2: That, if it would but apprehend some joy,
2: It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
2: Or in the night, imagining some fear,
2: How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear?
2: HIPPOLYTA. But all the story of the night told over,
2: And all their minds transfigur'd so together,
2: More witnesseth than fancy's images,
2: And grows to something of great constancy,
2: But howsoever strange and admirable.
2: Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA
2: THESEUS. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.
2: Joy, gentle friends, joy and fresh days of love
2: Accompany your hearts!
2: LYSANDER. More than to us
2: Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed!
2: THESEUS. Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have,
2: To wear away this long age of three hours
2: Between our after-supper and bed-time?
2: Where is our usual manager of mirth?
2: What revels are in hand? Is there no play
2: To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
2: Call Philostrate.
2: PHILOSTRATE. Here, mighty Theseus.
2: THESEUS. Say, what abridgment have you for this evening?
2: What masque? what music? How shall we beguile
2: The lazy time, if not with some delight?
2: PHILOSTRATE. There is a brief how many sports are ripe;
2: Make choice of which your Highness will see first.
2: [Giving a paper]
2: THESEUS. 'The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung
2: By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.'
2: We'll none of that: that have I told my love,
2: In glory of my kinsman Hercules.
2: 'The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
2: Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.'
2: That is an old device, and it was play'd
2: When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
2: 'The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
2: Of Learning, late deceas'd in beggary.'
2: That is some satire, keen and critical,
2: Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
2: 'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus
2: And his love Thisby; very tragical mirth.'
2: Merry and tragical! tedious and brief!
2: That is hot ice and wondrous strange snow.
2: How shall we find the concord of this discord?
2: PHILOSTRATE. A play there is, my lord, some ten words long,
2: Which is as brief as I have known a play;
2: But by ten words, my lord, it is too long,
2: Which makes it tedious; for in all the play
2: There is not one word apt, one player fitted.
2: And tragical, my noble lord, it is;
2: For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
2: Which when I saw rehears'd, I must confess,
2: Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
2: The passion of loud laughter never shed.
2: THESEUS. What are they that do play it?
2: PHILOSTRATE. Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,
2: Which never labour'd in their minds till now;
2: And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories
2: With this same play against your nuptial.
2: THESEUS. And we will hear it.
2: PHILOSTRATE. No, my noble lord,
2: It is not for you. I have heard it over,
2: And it is nothing, nothing in the world;
2: Unless you can find sport in their intents,
2: Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain,
2: To do you service.
2: THESEUS. I will hear that play;
2: For never anything can be amiss
2: When simpleness and duty tender it.
2: Go, bring them in; and take your places, ladies.
2: Exit PHILOSTRATE
2: HIPPOLYTA. I love not to see wretchedness o'er-charged,
2: And duty in his service perishing.
2: THESEUS. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
2: HIPPOLYTA. He says they can do nothing in this kind.
2: THESEUS. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.
2: Our sport shall be to take what they mistake;
2: And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect
2: Takes it in might, not merit.
2: Where I have come, great clerks have purposed
2: To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
2: Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
2: Make periods in the midst of sentences,
2: Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears,
2: And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off,
2: Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
2: Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome;
2: And in the modesty of fearful duty
2: I read as much as from the rattling tongue
2: Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
2: Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
2: In least speak most to my capacity.
2: Re-enter PHILOSTRATE
2: PHILOSTRATE. SO please your Grace, the Prologue is address'd.
2: THESEUS. Let him approach.              [Flourish of trumpets]
2: Enter QUINCE as the PROLOGUE
2: PROLOGUE. If we offend, it is with our good will.
2: That you should think, we come not to offend,
2: But with good will. To show our simple skill,
2: That is the true beginning of our end.
2: Consider then, we come but in despite.
2: We do not come, as minding to content you,
2: Our true intent is. All for your delight
2: We are not here. That you should here repent you,
2: The actors are at band; and, by their show,
2: You shall know all, that you are like to know,
2: THESEUS. This fellow doth not stand upon points.
2: LYSANDER. He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows not
2: the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not enough to speak, but
2: to speak true.
2: HIPPOLYTA. Indeed he hath play'd on this prologue like a child on a
2: recorder- a sound, but not in government.
2: THESEUS. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing im paired,
2: but all disordered. Who is next?
2: Enter, with a trumpet before them, as in dumb show,
2: PYRAMUS and THISBY, WALL, MOONSHINE, and LION
2: PROLOGUE. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;
2: But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.
2: This man is Pyramus, if you would know;
2: This beauteous lady Thisby is certain.
2: This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present
2: Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder;
2: And through Walls chink, poor souls, they are content
2: To whisper. At the which let no man wonder.
2: This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn,
2: Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know,
2: By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
2: To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
2: This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name,
2: The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,
2: Did scare away, or rather did affright;
2: And as she fled, her mantle she did fall;
2: Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.
2: Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall,
2: And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain;
2: Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
2: He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast;
2: And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,
2: His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
2: Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain,
2: At large discourse while here they do remain.
2: Exeunt PROLOGUE, PYRAMUS, THISBY,
2: LION, and MOONSHINE
2: THESEUS. I wonder if the lion be to speak.
2: DEMETRIUS. No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do.
2: WALL. In this same interlude it doth befall
2: That I, one Snout by name, present a wall;
2: And such a wall as I would have you think
2: That had in it a crannied hole or chink,
2: Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,
2: Did whisper often very secretly.
2: This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show
2: That I am that same wall; the truth is so;
2: And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
2: Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.
2: THESEUS. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?
2: DEMETRIUS. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard
2: discourse, my lord.
2: Enter PYRAMUS
2: THESEUS. Pyramus draws near the wall; silence.
2: PYRAMUS. O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black!
2: O night, which ever art when day is not!
2: O night, O night, alack, alack, alack,
2: I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot!
2: And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,
2: That stand'st between her father's ground and mine;
2: Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall,
2: Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne.
2: [WALL holds up his fingers]
2: Thanks, courteous wall. Jove shield thee well for this!
2: But what see what see I? No Thisby do I see.
2: O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss,
2: Curs'd he thy stones for thus deceiving me!
2: THESEUS. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.
2: PYRAMUS. No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving me is Thisby's
2: cue. She is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall.
2: You shall see it will fall pat as I told you; yonder she comes.
2: Enter THISBY
2: THISBY. O wall, full often hast thou beard my moans,
2: For parting my fair Pyramus and me!
2: My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones,
2: Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.
2: PYRAMUS. I see a voice; now will I to the chink,
2: To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face.
2: Thisby!
2: THISBY. My love! thou art my love, I think.
2: PYRAMUS. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace;
2: And like Limander am I trusty still.
2: THISBY. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill.
2: PYRAMUS. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.
2: THISBY. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.
2: PYRAMUS. O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall.
2: THISBY. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.
2: PYRAMUS. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?
2: THISBY. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.
2: Exeunt PYRAMUS and THISBY
2: WALL. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;
2: And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.           Exit WALL
2: THESEUS. Now is the moon used between the two neighbours.
2: DEMETRIUS. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear
2: without warning.
2: HIPPOLYTA. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.
2: THESEUS. The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are
2: no worse, if imagination amend them.
2: HIPPOLYTA. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.
2: THESEUS. If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves,
2: they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a
2: man and a lion.
2: Enter LION and MOONSHINE
2: LION. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
2: The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
2: May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here,
2: When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
2: Then know that I as Snug the joiner am
2: A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam;
2: For, if I should as lion come in strife
2: Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.
2: THESEUS. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.
2: DEMETRIUS. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.
2: LYSANDER. This lion is a very fox for his valour.
2: THESEUS. True; and a goose for his discretion.
2: DEMETRIUS. Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his
2: discretion, and the fox carries the goose.
2: THESEUS. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for
2: the goose carries not the fox. It is well. Leave it to his
2: discretion, and let us listen to the Moon.
2: MOONSHINE. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present-
2: DEMETRIUS. He should have worn the horns on his head.
2: THESEUS. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the
2: circumference.
2: MOONSHINE. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;
2: Myself the Man i' th' Moon do seem to be.
2: THESEUS. This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man should
2: be put into the lantern. How is it else the man i' th' moon?
2: DEMETRIUS. He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it
2: is already in snuff.
2: HIPPOLYTA. I am aweary of this moon. Would he would change!
2: THESEUS. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is
2: in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay
2: the time.
2: LYSANDER. Proceed, Moon.
2: MOON. All that I have to say is to tell you that the lanthorn is
2: the moon; I, the Man i' th' Moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush;
2: and this dog, my dog.
2: DEMETRIUS. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for all these
2: are in the moon. But silence; here comes Thisby.
2: Re-enter THISBY
2: THISBY. This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love?
2: LION. [Roaring] O-                           [THISBY runs off]
2: DEMETRIUS. Well roar'd, Lion.
2: THESEUS. Well run, Thisby.
2: HIPPOLYTA. Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a good
2: grace.            [The LION tears THISBY'S Mantle, and exit]
2: THESEUS. Well mous'd, Lion.
2: Re-enter PYRAMUS
2: DEMETRIUS. And then came Pyramus.
2: LYSANDER. And so the lion vanish'd.
2: PYRAMUS. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
2: I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright;
2: For, by thy gracious golden, glittering gleams,
2: I trust to take of truest Thisby sight.
2: But stay, O spite!
2: But mark, poor knight,
2: What dreadful dole is here!
2: Eyes, do you see?
2: How can it he?
2: O dainty duck! O dear!
2: Thy mantle good,
2: What! stain'd with blood?
2: Approach, ye Furies fell.
2: O Fates! come, come;
2: Cut thread and thrum;
2: Quail, crush, conclude, and quell.
2: THESEUS. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go
2: near to make a man look sad.
2: HIPPOLYTA. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.
2: PYRAMUS. O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame?
2: Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear;
2: Which is- no, no- which was the fairest dame
2: That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer.
2: Come, tears, confound;
2: Out, sword, and wound
2: The pap of Pyramus;
2: Ay, that left pap,
2: Where heart doth hop.               [Stabs himself]
2: Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
2: Now am I dead,
2: Now am I fled;
2: My soul is in the sky.
2: Tongue, lose thy light;
2: Moon, take thy flight.             [Exit MOONSHINE]
2: Now die, die, die, die, die.                   [Dies]
2: DEMETRIUS. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one.
2: LYSANDER. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing.
2: THESEUS. With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover and yet
2: prove an ass.
2: HIPPOLYTA. How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisby comes back
2: and finds her lover?
2: Re-enter THISBY
2: THESEUS. She will find him by starlight. Here she comes; and her
2: passion ends the play.
2: HIPPOLYTA. Methinks she should not use a long one for such a
2: Pyramus; I hope she will be brief.
2: DEMETRIUS. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which
2: Thisby, is the better- he for a man, God warrant us: She for a
2: woman, God bless us!
2: LYSANDER. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.
2: DEMETRIUS. And thus she moans, videlicet:-
2: THISBY.      Asleep, my love?
2: What, dead, my dove?
2: O Pyramus, arise,
2: Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
2: Dead, dead? A tomb
2: Must cover thy sweet eyes.
2: These lily lips,
2: This cherry nose,
2: These yellow cowslip cheeks,
2: Are gone, are gone;
2: Lovers, make moan;
2: His eyes were green as leeks.
2: O Sisters Three,
2: Come, come to me,
2: With hands as pale as milk;
2: Lay them in gore,
2: Since you have shore
2: With shears his thread of silk.
2: Tongue, not a word.
2: Come, trusty sword;
2: Come, blade, my breast imbrue.      [Stabs herself]
2: And farewell, friends;
2: Thus Thisby ends;
2: Adieu, adieu, adieu.                         [Dies]
2: THESEUS. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.
2: DEMETRIUS. Ay, and Wall too.
2: BOTTOM. [Starting up] No, I assure you; the wall is down that
2: parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or
2: to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company?
2: THESEUS. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse.
2: Never excuse; for when the players are all dead there need none
2: to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus, and
2: hang'd himself in Thisby's garter, it would have been a fine
2: tragedy. And so it is, truly; and very notably discharg'd. But
2: come, your Bergomask; let your epilogue alone.     [A dance]
2: The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.
2: Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.
2: I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn,
2: As much as we this night have overwatch'd.
2: This palpable-gross play hath well beguil'd
2: The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed.
2: A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
2: In nightly revels and new jollity.                    Exeunt
2: Enter PUCK with a broom
2: PUCK.      Now the hungry lion roars,
2: And the wolf behowls the moon;
2: Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
2: All with weary task fordone.
2: Now the wasted brands do glow,
2: Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
2: Puts the wretch that lies in woe
2: In remembrance of a shroud.
2: Now it is the time of night
2: That the graves, all gaping wide,
2: Every one lets forth his sprite,
2: In the church-way paths to glide.
2: And we fairies, that do run
2: By the triple Hecate's team
2: From the presence of the sun,
2: Following darkness like a dream,
2: Now are frolic. Not a mouse
2: Shall disturb this hallowed house.
2: I am sent with broom before,
2: To sweep the dust behind the door.
2: Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with all their train
2: OBERON.    Through the house give glimmering light,
2: By the dead and drowsy fire;
2: Every elf and fairy sprite
2: Hop as light as bird from brier;
2: And this ditty, after me,
2: Sing and dance it trippingly.
2: TITANIA.      First, rehearse your song by rote,
2: To each word a warbling note;
2: Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
2: Will we sing, and bless this place.
2: [OBERON leading, the FAIRIES sing and dance]
2: OBERON.    Now, until the break of day,
2: Through this house each fairy stray.
2: To the best bride-bed will we,
2: Which by us shall blessed be;
2: And the issue there create
2: Ever shall be fortunate.
2: So shall all the couples three
2: Ever true in loving be;
2: And the blots of Nature's hand
2: Shall not in their issue stand;
2: Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
2: Nor mark prodigious, such as are
2: Despised in nativity,
2: Shall upon their children be.
2: With this field-dew consecrate,
2: Every fairy take his gait,
2: And each several chamber bless,
2: Through this palace, with sweet peace;
2: And the owner of it blest
2: Ever shall in safety rest.
2: Trip away; make no stay;
2: Meet me all by break of day.    Exeunt all but PUCK
2: PUCK.      If we shadows have offended,
2: Think but this, and all is mended,
2: That you have but slumb'red here
2: While these visions did appear.
2: And this weak and idle theme,
2: No more yielding but a dream,
2: Gentles, do not reprehend.
2: If you pardon, we will mend.
2: And, as I am an honest Puck,
2: If we have unearned luck
2: Now to scape the serpent's tongue,
2: We will make amends ere long;
2: Else the Puck a liar call.
2: So, good night unto you all.
2: Give me your hands, if we be friends,
2: And Robin shall restore amends.                Exit
2: THE END
3: ????????????????????
3: William Shakespeare. Much Ado About Nothing
3: 1599
3: Dramatis Personae
3: Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon.
3: Don John, his bastard brother.
3: Claudio, a young lord of Florence.
3: Benedick, a Young lord of Padua.
3: Leonato, Governor of Messina.
3: Antonio, an old man, his brother.
3: Balthasar, attendant on Don Pedro.
3: Borachio, follower of Don John.
3: Conrade, follower of Don John.
3: Friar Francis.
3: Dogberry, a Constable.
3: Verges, a Headborough.
3: A Sexton.
3: A Boy.
3: Hero, daughter to Leonato.
3: Beatrice, niece to Leonato.
3: Margaret, waiting gentlewoman attending on Hero.
3: Ursula, waiting gentlewoman attending on Hero.
3: Messengers, Watch, Attendants, etc.
3: SCENE.--Messina.
3: ACT I. Scene I.
3: An orchard before Leonato's house.
3: Enter Leonato (Governor of Messina), Hero (his Daughter),
3: and Beatrice (his Niece), with a Messenger.
3: Leon. I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this
3: night to Messina.
3: Mess. He is very near by this. He was not three leagues off when I
3: left him.
3: Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action?
3: Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name.
3: Leon. A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full
3: numbers. I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on
3: a young Florentine called Claudio.
3: Mess. Much deserv'd on his part, and equally rememb'red by Don
3: Pedro. He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing
3: in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion. He hath indeed
3: better bett'red expectation than you must expect of me to tell
3: you how.
3: Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it.
3: Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much
3: joy in him; even so much that joy could not show itself modest
3: enough without a badge of bitterness.
3: Leon. Did he break out into tears?
3: Mess. In great measure.
3: Leon. A kind overflow of kindness. There are no faces truer than
3: those that are so wash'd. How much better is it to weep at joy
3: than to joy at weeping!
3: Beat. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from the wars or no?
3: Mess. I know none of that name, lady. There was none such in the
3: army of any sort.
3: Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece?
3: Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua.
3: Mess. O, he's return'd, and as pleasant as ever he was.
3: Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina and challeng'd Cupid at
3: the flight, and my uncle's fool, reading the challenge,
3: subscrib'd for Cupid and challeng'd him at the burbolt. I pray
3: you, how many hath he kill'd and eaten in these wars? But how
3: many hath he kill'd? For indeed I promised to eat all of his
3: killing.
3: Leon. Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll
3: be meet with you, I doubt it not.
3: Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars.
3: Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it. He is a
3: very valiant trencherman; he hath an excellent stomach.
3: Mess. And a good soldier too, lady.
3: Beat. And a good soldier to a lady; but what is he to a lord?
3: Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuff'd with all honourable
3: virtues.
3: Beat. It is so indeed. He is no less than a stuff'd man; but for
3: the stuffing--well, we are all mortal.
3: Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of merry
3: war betwixt Signior Benedick and her. They never meet but there's
3: a skirmish of wit between them.
3: Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that! In our last conflict four of
3: his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man govern'd
3: with one; so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let
3: him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for
3: it is all the wealth that he hath left to be known a reasonable
3: creature. Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new
3: sworn brother.
3: Mess. Is't possible?
3: Beat. Very easily possible. He wears his faith but as the fashion
3: of his hat; it ever changes with the next block.
3: Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books.
3: Beat. No. An he were, I would burn my study. But I pray you, who is
3: his companion? Is there no young squarer now that will make a
3: voyage with him to the devil?
3: Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio.
3: Beat. O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease! He is sooner
3: caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God
3: help the noble Claudio! If he have caught the Benedick, it will
3: cost him a thousand pound ere 'a be cured.
3: Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady.
3: Beat. Do, good friend.
3: Leon. You will never run mad, niece.
3: Beat. No, not till a hot January.
3: Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd.
3: Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthasar, and John the Bastard.
3: Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, are you come to meet your trouble? The
3: fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.
3: Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace;
3: for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart
3: from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.
3: Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly. I think this is your
3: daughter.
3: Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so.
3: Bene. Were you in doubt, sir, that you ask'd her?
3: Leon. Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child.
3: Pedro. You have it full, Benedick. We may guess by this what you
3: are, being a man. Truly the lady fathers herself. Be happy, lady;
3: for you are like an honourable father.
3: Bene. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head
3: on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is.
3: Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick.
3: Nobody marks you.
3: Bene. What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living?
3: Beat. Is it possible Disdain should die while she hath such meet
3: food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert
3: to disdain if you come in her presence.
3: Bene. Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of
3: all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my
3: heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none.
3: Beat. A dear happiness to women! They would else have been troubled
3: with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of
3: your humour for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow
3: than a man swear he loves me.
3: Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind! So some gentleman
3: or other shall scape a predestinate scratch'd face.
3: Beat. Scratching could not make it worse an 'twere such a face as
3: yours were.
3: Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.
3: Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.
3: Bene. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a
3: continuer. But keep your way, a God's name! I have done.
3: Beat. You always end with a jade's trick. I know you of old.
3: Pedro. That is the sum of all, Leonato. Signior Claudio and Signior
3: Benedick, my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him
3: we shall stay here at the least a month, and he heartly prays
3: some occasion may detain us longer. I dare swear he is no
3: hypocrite, but prays from his heart.
3: Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. [To Don
3: John] Let me bid you welcome, my lord. Being reconciled to the
3: Prince your brother, I owe you all duty.
3: John. I thank you. I am not of many words, but I thank you.
3: Leon. Please it your Grace lead on?
3: Pedro. Your hand, Leonato. We will go together.
3: Exeunt. Manent Benedick and Claudio.
3: Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato?
3: Bene. I noted her not, but I look'd on her.
3: Claud. Is she not a modest young lady?
3: Bene. Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple
3: true judgment? or would you have me speak after my custom, as
3: being a professed tyrant to their sex?
3: Claud. No. I pray thee speak in sober judgment.
3: Bene. Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise,
3: too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise.
3: Only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other
3: than she is, she were unhandsome, and being no other but as she
3: is, I do not like her.
3: Claud. Thou thinkest I am in sport. I pray thee tell me truly how
3: thou lik'st her.
3: Bene. Would you buy her, that you enquire after her?
3: Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel?
3: Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with a sad
3: brow? or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a
3: good hare-finder and Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, in what key
3: shall a man take you to go in the song?
3: Claud. In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I look'd on.
3: Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter.
3: There's her cousin, an she were not possess'd with a fury,exceeds
3: her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of
3: December. But I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have
3: you?
3: Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the
3: contrary, if Hero would be my wife.
3: Bene. Is't come to this? In faith, hath not the world one man but
3: he will wear his cap with suspicion? Shall I never see a
3: bachelor of threescore again? Go to, i' faith! An thou wilt needs
3: thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it and sigh away
3: Sundays.
3: Enter Don Pedro.
3: Look! Don Pedro is returned to seek you.
3: Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that you followed not to
3: Leonato's?
3: Bene. I would your Grace would constrain me to tell.
3: Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance.
3: Bene. You hear, Count Claudio. I can be secret as a dumb man, I
3: would have you think so; but, on my allegiance--mark you this-on
3: my allegiance! he is in love. With who? Now that is your Grace's
3: part. Mark how short his answer is: With Hero, Leonato's short
3: daughter.
3: Claud. If this were so, so were it utt'red.
3: Bene. Like the old tale, my lord: 'It is not so, nor 'twas not so;
3: but indeed, God forbid it should be so!'
3: Claud. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be
3: otherwise.
3: Pedro. Amen, if you love her; for the lady is very well worthy.
3: Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my lord.
3: Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought.
3: Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine.
3: Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine.
3: Claud. That I love her, I feel.
3: Pedro. That she is worthy, I know.
3: Bene. That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she
3: should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me.
3: I will die in it at the stake.
3: Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of
3: beauty.
3: Claud. And never could maintain his part but in the force of his
3: will.
3: Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me
3: up, I likewise give her most humble thanks; but that I will have
3: a rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible
3: baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do them
3: the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust
3: none; and the fine is (for the which I may go the finer), I will
3: live a bachelor.
3: Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love.
3: Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord; not with
3: love. Prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get
3: again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen
3: and hang me up at the door of a brothel house for the sign of
3: blind Cupid.
3: Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt
3: prove a notable argument.
3: Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat and shoot at me; and
3: he that hits me, let him be clapp'd on the shoulder and call'd
3: Adam.
3: Pedro. Well, as time shall try.
3: 'In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.'
3: Bene. The savage bull may; but if ever the sensible Benedick bear
3: it, pluck off the bull's horns and set them in my forehead, and
3: let me be vilely painted, and in such great letters as they write
3: 'Here is good horse to hire,' let them signify under my sign
3: 'Here you may see Benedick the married man.'
3: Claud. If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad.
3: Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou
3: wilt quake for this shortly.
3: Bene. I look for an earthquake too then.
3: Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the meantime,
3: good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's, commend me to him and
3: tell him I will not fail him at supper; for indeed he hath made
3: great preparation.
3: Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage; and
3: so I commit you--
3: Claud. To the tuition of God. From my house--if I had it--
3: Pedro. The sixth of July. Your loving friend, Benedick.
3: Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your discourse is
3: sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly
3: basted on neither. Ere you flout old ends any further, examine
3: your conscience. And so I leave you.                   Exit.
3: Claud. My liege, your Highness now may do me good.
3: Pedro. My love is thine to teach. Teach it but how,
3: And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn
3: Any hard lesson that may do thee good.
3: Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord?
3: Pedro. No child but Hero; she's his only heir.
3: Dost thou affect her, Claudio?
3: Claud.O my lord,
3: When you went onward on this ended action,
3: I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye,
3: That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand
3: Than to drive liking to the name of love;
3: But now I am return'd and that war-thoughts
3: Have left their places vacant, in their rooms
3: Come thronging soft and delicate desires,
3: All prompting me how fair young Hero is,
3: Saying I lik'd her ere I went to wars.
3: Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently
3: And tire the hearer with a book of words.
3: If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it,
3: And I will break with her and with her father,
3: And thou shalt have her. Wast not to this end
3: That thou began'st to twist so fine a story?
3: Claud. How sweetly you do minister to love,
3: That know love's grief by his complexion!
3: But lest my liking might too sudden seem,
3: I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise.
3: Pedro. What need the bridge much broader than the flood?
3: The fairest grant is the necessity.
3: Look, what will serve is fit. 'Tis once, thou lovest,
3: And I will fit thee with the remedy.
3: I know we shall have revelling to-night.
3: I will assume thy part in some disguise
3: And tell fair Hero I am Claudio,
3: And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart
3: And take her hearing prisoner with the force
3: And strong encounter of my amorous tale.
3: Then after to her father will I break,
3: And the conclusion is, she shall be thine.
3: In practice let us put it presently.                 Exeunt.
3: Scene II.
3: A room in Leonato's house.
3: Enter [at one door] Leonato and [at another door, Antonio] an old man,
3: brother to Leonato.
3: Leon. How now, brother? Where is my cousin your son? Hath he
3: provided this music?
3: Ant. He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell you strange
3: news that you yet dreamt not of.
3: Leon. Are they good?
3: Ant. As the event stamps them; but they have a good cover, they
3: show well outward. The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a
3: thick-pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus much overheard by
3: a man of mine: the Prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my
3: niece your daughter and meant to acknowledge it this night in a
3: dance, and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the
3: present time by the top and instantly break with you of it.
3: Leon. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?
3: Ant. A good sharp fellow. I will send for him, and question him
3: yourself.
3: Leon. No, no. We will hold it as a dream till it appear itself; but
3: I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better
3: prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you and
3: tell her of it.                              [Exit Antonio.]
3: [Enter Antonio's Son with a Musician, and others.]
3: [To the Son] Cousin, you know what you have to do.
3: --[To the Musician] O, I cry you mercy, friend. Go you with me,
3: and I will use your skill.--Good cousin, have a care this busy
3: time.                                                Exeunt.
3: Scene III.
3: Another room in Leonato's house.]
3: Enter Sir John the Bastard and Conrade, his companion.
3: Con. What the goodyear, my lord! Why are you thus out of measure
3: sad?
3: John. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds; therefore
3: the sadness is without limit.
3: Con. You should hear reason.
3: John. And when I have heard it, what blessings brings it?
3: Con. If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance.
3: John. I wonder that thou (being, as thou say'st thou art, born
3: under Saturn) goest about to apply a moral medicine to a
3: mortifying mischief. I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when
3: I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have
3: stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsy,
3: and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no
3: man in his humour.
3: Con. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this till you may
3: do it without controlment. You have of late stood out against
3: your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where
3: it is impossible you should take true root but by the fair
3: weather that you make yourself. It is needful that you frame the
3: season for your own harvest.
3: John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace,
3: and it better fits my blood to be disdain'd of all than to
3: fashion a carriage to rob love from any. In this, though I cannot
3: be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but
3: I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle and
3: enfranchis'd with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to sing in
3: my cage. If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I
3: would do my liking. In the meantime let me be that I am, and seek
3: not to alter me.
3: Con. Can you make no use of your discontent?
3: John. I make all use of it, for I use it only.
3: Enter Borachio.
3: Who comes here? What news, Borachio?
3: Bora. I came yonder from a great supper. The Prince your brother is
3: royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence
3: of an intended marriage.
3: John. Will it serve for any model to build mischief on?
3: What is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquietness?
3: Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand.
3: John. Who? the most exquisite Claudio?
3: Bora. Even he.
3: John. A proper squire! And who? and who? which way looks he?
3: Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato.
3: John. A very forward March-chick! How came you to this?
3: Bora. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoking a musty
3: room, comes me the Prince and Claudio, hand in hand in sad
3: conference. I whipt me behind the arras and there heard it agreed
3: upon that the Prince should woo Hero for himself, and having
3: obtain'd her, give her to Count Claudio.
3: John. Come, come, let us thither. This may prove food to my
3: displeasure. That young start-up hath all the glory of my
3: overthrow. If I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way.
3: You are both sure, and will assist me?
3: Con. To the death, my lord.
3: John. Let us to the great supper. Their cheer is the greater that
3: I am subdued. Would the cook were o' my mind! Shall we go prove
3: what's to be done?
3: Bora. We'll wait upon your lordship.
3: Exeunt.
3: ACT II. Scene I.
3: A hall in Leonato's house.
3: Enter Leonato, [Antonio] his Brother, Hero his Daughter,
3: and Beatrice his Niece, and a Kinsman; [also Margaret and Ursula].
3: Leon. Was not Count John here at supper?
3: Ant. I saw him not.
3: Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him but I am
3: heart-burn'd an hour after.
3: Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition.
3: Beat. He were an excellent man that were made just in the midway
3: between him and Benedick. The one is too like an image and says
3: nothing, and the other too like my lady's eldest son, evermore
3: tattling.
3: Leon. Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth,
3: and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face--
3: Beat. With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in
3: his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world--if 'a
3: could get her good will.
3: Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband if
3: thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.
3: Ant. In faith, she's too curst.
3: Beat. Too curst is more than curst. I shall lessen God's sending
3: that way, for it is said, 'God sends a curst cow short horns,'
3: but to a cow too curst he sends none.
3: Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns.
3: Beat. Just, if he send me no husband; for the which blessing I am
3: at him upon my knees every morning and evening. Lord, I could not
3: endure a husband with a beard on his face. I had rather lie in
3: the woollen!
3: Leon. You may light on a husband that hath no beard.
3: Beat. What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel and make
3: him my waiting gentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more than a
3: youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that
3: is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a
3: man, I am not for him. Therefore I will even take sixpence in
3: earnest of the berrord and lead his apes into hell.
3: Leon. Well then, go you into hell?
3: Beat. No; but to the gate, and there will the devil meet me like an
3: old cuckold with horns on his head, and say 'Get you to heaven,
3: Beatrice, get you to heaven. Here's no place for you maids.' So
3: deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter--for the heavens.
3: He shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry
3: as the day is long.
3: Ant. [to Hero] Well, niece, I trust you will be rul'd by your
3: father.
3: Beat. Yes faith. It is my cousin's duty to make cursy and say,
3: 'Father, as it please you.' But yet for all that, cousin, let him
3: be a handsome fellow, or else make another cursy, and say,
3: 'Father, as it please me.'
3: Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.
3: Beat. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would
3: it not grieve a woman to be overmaster'd with a piece of valiant
3: dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl?
3: No, uncle, I'll none. Adam's sons are my brethren, and truly I
3: hold it a sin to match in my kinred.
3: Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you. If the Prince do solicit
3: you in that kind, you know your answer.
3: Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed
3: in good time. If the Prince be too important, tell him there is
3: measure in everything, and so dance out the answer. For, hear me,
3: Hero: wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a
3: measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty like
3: a Scotch jig--and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly
3: modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes
3: Repentance and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace
3: faster and faster, till he sink into his grave.
3: Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.
3: Beat. I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight.
3: Leon. The revellers are ent'ring, brother. Make good room.
3: [Exit Antonio.]
3: Enter, [masked,] Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Balthasar.
3: [With them enter Antonio, also masked. After them enter]
3: Don John [and Borachio (without masks), who stand aside
3: and look on during the dance].
3: Pedro. Lady, will you walk a bout with your friend?
3: Hero. So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing,
3: I am yours for the walk; and especially when I walk away.
3: Pedro. With me in your company?
3: Hero. I may say so when I please.
3: Pedro. And when please you to say so?
3: Hero. When I like your favour, for God defend the lute should be
3: like the case!
3: Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove.
3: Hero. Why then, your visor should be thatch'd.
3: Pedro. Speak low if you speak love.         [Takes her aside.]
3: Balth. Well, I would you did like me.
3: Marg. So would not I for your own sake, for I have many ill
3: qualities.
3: Balth. Which is one?
3: Marg. I say my prayers aloud.
3: Balth. I love you the better. The hearers may cry Amen.
3: Marg. God match me with a good dancer!
3: Balth. Amen.
3: Marg. And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done!
3: Answer, clerk.
3: Balth. No more words. The clerk is answered.
3: [Takes her aside.]
3: Urs. I know you well enough. You are Signior Antonio.
3: Ant. At a word, I am not.
3: Urs. I know you by the waggling of your head.
3: Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.
3: Urs. You could never do him so ill-well unless you were the very
3: man. Here's his dry hand up and down. You are he, you are he!
3: Ant. At a word, I am not.
3: Urs. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent
3: wit? Can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum you are he. Graces will
3: appear, and there's an end.              [ They step aside.]
3: Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so?
3: Bene. No, you shall pardon me.
3: Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are?
3: Bene. Not now.
3: Beat. That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of the
3: 'Hundred Merry Tales.' Well, this was Signior Benedick that said
3: so.
3: Bene. What's he?
3: Beat. I am sure you know him well enough.
3: Bene. Not I, believe me.
3: Beat. Did he never make you laugh?
3: Bene. I pray you, what is he?
3: Beat. Why, he is the Prince's jester, a very dull fool. Only his
3: gift is in devising impossible slanders. None but libertines
3: delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in
3: his villany; for he both pleases men and angers them, and then
3: they laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in the fleet.
3: I would he had boarded me.
3: Bene. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say.
3: Beat. Do, do. He'll but break a comparison or two on me; which
3: peradventure, not marked or not laugh'd at, strikes him into
3: melancholy; and then there's a partridge wing saved, for the fool
3: will eat no supper that night.
3: [Music.]
3: We must follow the leaders.
3: Bene. In every good thing.
3: Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next
3: turning.
3: Dance. Exeunt (all but Don John, Borachio, and Claudio].
3: John. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero and hath withdrawn her
3: father to break with him about it. The ladies follow her and but
3: one visor remains.
3: Bora. And that is Claudio. I know him by his bearing.
3: John. Are you not Signior Benedick?
3: Claud. You know me well. I am he.
3: John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love. He is
3: enamour'd on Hero. I pray you dissuade him from her; she is no
3: equal for his birth. You may do the part of an honest man in it.
3: Claud. How know you he loves her?
3: John. I heard him swear his affection.
3: Bora. So did I too, and he swore he would marry her tonight.
3: John. Come, let us to the banquet.
3: Exeunt. Manet Claudio.
3: Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick
3: But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.
3: [Unmasks.]
3: 'Tis certain so. The Prince wooes for himself.
3: Friendship is constant in all other things
3: Save in the office and affairs of love.
3: Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues;
3: Let every eye negotiate for itself
3: And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch
3: Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.
3: This is an accident of hourly proof,
3: Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore Hero!
3: Enter Benedick [unmasked].
3: Bene. Count Claudio?
3: Claud. Yea, the same.
3: Bene. Come, will you go with me?
3: Claud. Whither?
3: Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, County. What
3: fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an
3: usurer's chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You
3: must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero.
3: Claud. I wish him joy of her.
3: Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest drovier. So they sell
3: bullocks. But did you think the Prince would have served you
3: thus?
3: Claud. I pray you leave me.
3: Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man! 'Twas the boy that
3: stole your meat, and you'll beat the post.
3: Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you.                Exit.
3: Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into sedges. But,
3: that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! The
3: Prince's fool! Ha! it may be I go under that title because I am
3: merry. Yea, but so I am apt to do myself wrong. I am not so
3: reputed. It is the base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice
3: that puts the world into her person and so gives me out. Well,
3: I'll be revenged as I may.
3: Enter Don Pedro.
3: Pedro. Now, signior, where's the Count? Did you see him?
3: Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame, I found
3: him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren. I told him, and I
3: think I told him true, that your Grace had got the good will of
3: this young lady, and I off'red him my company to a willow tree,
3: either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him
3: up a rod, as being worthy to be whipt.
3: Pedro. To be whipt? What's his fault?
3: Bene. The flat transgression of a schoolboy who, being overjoyed
3: with finding a bird's nest, shows it his companion, and he steals
3: it.
3: Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The transgression is
3: in the stealer.
3: Bene. Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the
3: garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the
3: rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stol'n
3: his bird's nest.
3: Pedro. I will but teach them to sing and restore them to the owner.
3: Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith you say
3: honestly.
3: Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you. The gentleman that
3: danc'd with her told her she is much wrong'd by you.
3: Bene. O, she misus'd me past the endurance of a block! An oak but
3: with one green leaf on it would have answered her; my very visor
3: began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not
3: thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jester, that
3: I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest with such
3: impossible conveyance upon me that I stood like a man at a mark,
3: with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every
3: word stabs. If her breath were as terrible as her terminations,
3: there were no living near her; she would infect to the North
3: Star. I would not marry her though she were endowed with all that
3: Adam had left him before he transgress'd. She would have made
3: Hercules have turn'd spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make
3: the fire too. Come, talk not of her. You shall find her the
3: infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God some scholar would
3: conjure her, for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as
3: quiet in hell as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose,
3: because they would go thither; so indeed all disquiet, horror,
3: and perturbation follows her.
3: Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero.
3: Pedro. Look, here she comes.
3: Bene. Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end? I
3: will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can
3: devise to send me on; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the
3: furthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's
3: foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any
3: embassage to the Pygmies--rather than hold three words'
3: conference with this harpy. You have no employment for me?
3: Pedro. None, but to desire your good company.
3: Bene. O God, sir, here's a dish I love not! I cannot endure my Lady
3: Tongue.                                              [Exit.]
3: Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior
3: Benedick.
3: Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile, and I gave him use for
3: it--a double heart for his single one. Marry, once before he won
3: it of me with false dice; therefore your Grace may well say I
3: have lost it.
3: Pedro. You have put him down, lady; you have put him down.
3: Beat. So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove
3: the mother of fools. I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent
3: me to seek.
3: Pedro. Why, how now, Count? Wherefore are you sad?
3: Claud. Not sad, my lord.
3: Pedro. How then? sick?
3: Claud. Neither, my lord.
3: Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well; but
3: civil count--civil as an orange, and something of that jealous
3: complexion.
3: Pedro. I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; though I'll
3: be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I
3: have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won. I have broke with
3: her father, and his good will obtained. Name the day of marriage,
3: and God give thee joy!
3: Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes. His
3: Grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it!
3: Beat. Speak, Count, 'tis your cue.
3: Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but little
3: happy if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours.
3: I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange.
3: Beat. Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss
3: and let not him speak neither.
3: Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.
3: Beat. Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy
3: side of care. My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her
3: heart.
3: Claud. And so she doth, cousin.
3: Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the world but
3: I, and I am sunburnt. I may sit in a corner and cry 'Heigh-ho for
3: a husband!'
3: Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
3: Beat. I would rather have one of your father's getting. Hath your
3: Grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent
3: husbands, if a maid could come by them.
3: Pedro. Will you have me, lady?
3: Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another for working days:
3: your Grace is too costly to wear every day. But I beseech your
3: Grace pardon me. I was born to speak all mirth and no matter.
3: Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes
3: you, for out o' question you were born in a merry hour.
3: Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star
3: danc'd, and under that was I born. Cousins, God give you joy!
3: Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told you of?
3: Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle, By your Grace's pardon.    Exit.
3: Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.
3: Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord. She
3: is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for I
3: have heard my daughter say she hath often dreamt of unhappiness
3: and wak'd herself with laughing.
3: Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.
3: Leon. O, by no means! She mocks all her wooers out of suit.
3: Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.
3: Leon. O Lord, my lord! if they were but a week married, they would
3: talk themselves mad.
3: Pedro. County Claudio, when mean you to go to church?
3: Claud. To-morrow, my lord. Time goes on crutches till love have all
3: his rites.
3: Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just
3: sevennight; and a time too brief too, to have all things answer
3: my mind.
3: Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing;
3: but I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us.
3: I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules' labours, which
3: is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a
3: mountain of affection th' one with th' other. I would fain have
3: it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it if you three will
3: but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction.
3: Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights'
3: watchings.
3: Claud. And I, my lord.
3: Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero?
3: Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a
3: good husband.
3: Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know.
3: Thus far can I praise him: he is of a noble strain, of approved
3: valour, and confirm'd honesty. I will teach you how to humour
3: your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and I,
3: [to Leonato and Claudio] with your two helps, will so practise on
3: Benedick that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy
3: stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this,
3: Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are
3: the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift.
3: Exeunt.
3: Scene II.
3: A hall in Leonato's house.
3: Enter [Don] John and Borachio.
3: John. It is so. The Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of
3: Leonato.
3: Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it.
3: John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be med'cinable to me.
3: I am sick in displeasure to him, and whatsoever comes athwart his
3: affection ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this
3: marriage?
3: Bora. Not honestly, my lord, but so covertly that no dishonesty
3: shall appear in me.
3: John. Show me briefly how.
3: Bora. I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in
3: the favour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero.
3: John. I remember.
3: Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her
3: to look out at her lady's chamber window.
3: John. What life is in that to be the death of this marriage?
3: Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the
3: Prince your brother; spare not to tell him that he hath wronged
3: his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do
3: you mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one as
3: Hero.
3: John. What proof shall I make of that?
3: Bora. Proof enough to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo
3: Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue?
3: John. Only to despite them I will endeavour anything.
3: Bora. Go then; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the Count
3: Claudio alone; tell them that you know that Hero loves me; intend
3: a kind of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, as--in love of
3: your brother's honour, who hath made this match, and his friend's
3: reputation, who is thus like to be cozen'd with the semblance of
3: a maid--that you have discover'd thus. They will scarcely believe
3: this without trial. Offer them instances; which shall bear no
3: less likelihood than to see me at her chamber window, hear me
3: call Margaret Hero, hear Margaret term me Claudio; and bring them
3: to see this the very night before the intended wedding (for in
3: the meantime I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be
3: absent) and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's
3: disloyalty that jealousy shall be call'd assurance and all the
3: preparation overthrown.
3: John. Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in
3: practice. Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a
3: thousand ducats.
3: Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not
3: shame me.
3: John. I will presently go learn their day of marriage.
3: Exeunt.
3: Scene III.
3: Leonato's orchard.
3: Enter Benedick alone.
3: Bene. Boy!
3: [Enter Boy.]
3: Boy. Signior?
3: Bene. In my chamber window lies a book. Bring it hither to me in
3: the orchard.
3: Boy. I am here already, sir.
3: Bene. I know that, but I would have thee hence and here again.
3: (Exit Boy.) I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much
3: another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love,
3: will, after he hath laugh'd at such shallow follies in others,
3: become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love; and such
3: a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with him
3: but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor
3: and the pipe. I have known when he would have walk'd ten mile
3: afoot to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake
3: carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain
3: and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is
3: he turn'd orthography; his words are a very fantastical banquet--
3: just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted and see with
3: these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not. I will not be sworn but
3: love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it,
3: till he have made an oyster of me he shall never make me such a
3: fool. One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am
3: well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all graces be in
3: one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall
3: be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never
3: cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not
3: near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an
3: excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it
3: please God. Ha, the Prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me in
3: the arbour.                                         [Hides.]
3: Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio.
3: Music [within].
3: Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music?
3: Claud. Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is,
3: As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony!
3: Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself?
3: Claud. O, very well, my lord. The music ended,
3: We'll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth.
3: Enter Balthasar with Music.
3: Pedro. Come, Balthasar, we'll hear that song again.
3: Balth. O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice
3: To slander music any more than once.
3: Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency
3: To put a strange face on his own perfection.
3: I pray thee sing, and let me woo no more.
3: Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing,
3: Since many a wooer doth commence his suit
3: To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes,
3: Yet will he swear he loves.
3: Pedro. Nay, pray thee come;
3: Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
3: Do it in notes.
3: Balth. Note this before my notes:
3: There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.
3: Pedro. Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks!
3: Note notes, forsooth, and nothing!                  [Music.]
3: Bene. [aside] Now divine air! Now is his soul ravish'd! Is it not
3: strange that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies?
3: Well, a horn for my money, when all's done.
3: [Balthasar sings.]
3: The Song.
3: Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more!
3: Men were deceivers ever,
3: One foot in sea, and one on shore;
3: To one thing constant never.
3: Then sigh not so,
3: But let them go,
3: And be you blithe and bonny,
3: Converting all your sounds of woe
3: Into Hey nonny, nonny.
3: Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
3: Of dumps so dull and heavy!
3: The fraud of men was ever so,
3: Since summer first was leavy.
3: Then sigh not so, &c.
3: Pedro. By my troth, a good song.
3: Balth. And an ill singer, my lord.
3: Pedro. Ha, no, no, faith! Thou sing'st well enough for a shift.
3: Bene. [aside] An he had been a dog that should have howl'd thus,
3: they would have hang'd him; and I pray God his bad voice bode no
3: mischief. I had as live have heard the night raven, come what
3: plague could have come after it.
3: Pedro. Yea, marry. Dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray thee get us
3: some excellent music; for to-morrow night we would have it at the
3: Lady Hero's chamber window.
3: Balth. The best I can, my lord.
3: Pedro. Do so. Farewell.
3: Exit Balthasar [with Musicians].
3: Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of to-day? that
3: your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick?
3: Claud. O, ay!-[Aside to Pedro] Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits.
3: --I did never think that lady would have loved any man.
3: Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she should so dote
3: on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours
3: seem'd ever to abhor.
3: Bene. [aside] Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner?
3: Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, but
3: that she loves him with an enraged affection. It is past the
3: infinite of thought.
3: Pedro. May be she doth but counterfeit.
3: Claud. Faith, like enough.
3: Leon. O God, counterfeit? There was never counterfeit of passion
3: came so near the life of passion as she discovers it.
3: Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she?
3: Claud. [aside] Bait the hook well! This fish will bite.
3: Leon. What effects, my lord? She will sit you--you heard my
3: daughter tell you how.
3: Claud. She did indeed.
3: Pedro. How, how, I pray you? You amaze me. I would have thought her
3: spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection.
3: Leon. I would have sworn it had, my lord--especially against
3: Benedick.
3: Bene. [aside] I should think this a gull but that the white-bearded
3: fellow speaks it. Knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such
3: reverence.
3: Claud. [aside] He hath ta'en th' infection. Hold it up.
3: Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick?
3: Leon. No, and swears she never will. That's her torment.
3: Claud. 'Tis true indeed. So your daughter says. 'Shall I,' says
3: she, 'that have so oft encount'red him with scorn, write to him
3: that I love him?'"
3: Leon. This says she now when she is beginning to write to him; for
3: she'll be up twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her
3: smock till she have writ a sheet of paper. My daughter tells us
3: all.
3: Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest
3: your daughter told us of.
3: Leon. O, when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found
3: 'Benedick' and 'Beatrice' between the sheet?
3: Claud. That.
3: Leon. O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence, rail'd at
3: herself that she should be so immodest to write to one that she
3: knew would flout her. 'I measure him,' says she, 'by my own
3: spirit; for I should flout him if he writ to me. Yea, though I
3: love him, I should.'
3: Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her
3: heart, tears her hair, prays, curses--'O sweet Benedick! God give
3: me patience!'
3: Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says so. And the ecstasy hath so
3: much overborne her that my daughter is sometime afeard she will
3: do a desperate outrage to herself. It is very true.
3: Pedro. It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she
3: will not discover it.
3: Claud. To what end? He would make but a sport of it and torment the
3: poor lady worse.
3: Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to hang him! She's an
3: excellent sweet lady, and (out of all suspicion) she is virtuous.
3: Claud. And she is exceeding wise.
3: Pedro. In everything but in loving Benedick.
3: Leon. O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body,
3: we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am sorry
3: for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.
3: Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotage on me. I would have
3: daff'd all other respects and made her half myself. I pray you
3: tell Benedick of it and hear what 'a will say.
3: Leon. Were it good, think you?
3: Claud. Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she will die
3: if he love her not, and she will die ere she make her love known,
3: and she will die, if he woo her, rather than she will bate one
3: breath of her accustomed crossness.
3: Pedro. She doth well. If she should make tender of her love, 'tis
3: very possible he'll scorn it; for the man (as you know all) hath
3: a contemptible spirit.
3: Claud. He is a very proper man.
3: Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward happiness.
3: Claud. Before God! and in my mind, very wise.
3: Pedro. He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit.
3: Claud. And I take him to be valiant.
3: Pedro. As Hector, I assure you; and in the managing of quarrels you
3: may say he is wise, for either he avoids them with great
3: discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christianlike fear.
3: Leon. If he do fear God, 'a must necessarily keep peace. If he
3: break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and
3: trembling.
3: Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it
3: seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am
3: sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick and tell him of
3: her love?
3: Claud. Never tell him, my lord. Let her wear it out with good
3: counsel.
3: Leon. Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her heart out first.
3: Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter. Let it
3: cool the while. I love Benedick well, and I could wish he would
3: modestly examine himself to see how much he is unworthy so good a
3: lady.
3: Leon. My lord, will you .walk? Dinner is ready.
3: [They walk away.]
3: Claud. If he dote on her upon this, I will never trust my
3: expectation.
3: Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her, and that must your
3: daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The sport will be, when they
3: hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter.
3: That's the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb
3: show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner.
3: Exeunt [Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato].
3: [Benedick advances from the arbour.]
3: Bene. This can be no trick. The conference was sadly borne; they
3: have the truth of this from Hero; they seem to pity the lady.
3: It seems her affections have their full bent. Love me? Why, it
3: must be requited. I hear how I am censur'd. They say I will bear
3: myself proudly if I perceive the love come from her. They say too
3: that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did
3: never think to marry. I must not seem proud. Happy are they that
3: hear their detractions and can put them to mending. They say the
3: lady is fair--'tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous
3: --'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me--by
3: my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of
3: her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance
3: have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me because I
3: have railed so long against marriage. But doth not the appetite
3: alters? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure
3: in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of
3: the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No, the world
3: must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not
3: think I should live till I were married.
3: Enter Beatrice.
3: Here comes Beatrice. By this day, she's a fair lady! I do spy
3: some marks of love in her.
3: Beat. Against my will I am sent to bid You come in to dinner.
3: Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.
3: Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to
3: thank me. If it had been painful, I would not have come.
3: Bene. You take pleasure then in the message?
3: Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knives point, and
3: choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior. Fare you well.
3: Exit.
3: Bene. Ha! 'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.'
3: There's a double meaning in that. 'I took no more pains for those
3: thanks than you took pains to thank me.' That's as much as to
3: say, 'Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks.' If I
3: do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I
3: am a Jew. I will go get her picture.                   Exit.
3: ACT III. Scene I.
3: Leonato's orchard.
3: Enter Hero and two Gentlewomen, Margaret and Ursula.
3: Hero. Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour.
3: There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
3: Proposing with the Prince and Claudio.
3: Whisper her ear and tell her, I and Ursley
3: Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
3: Is all of her. Say that thou overheard'st us;
3: And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
3: Where honeysuckles, ripened by the sun,
3: Forbid the sun to enter--like favourites,
3: Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
3: Against that power that bred it. There will she hide her
3: To listen our propose. This is thy office.
3: Bear thee well in it and leave us alone.
3: Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently.    [Exit.]
3: Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
3: As we do trace this alley up and down,
3: Our talk must only be of Benedick.
3: When I do name him, let it be thy part
3: To praise him more than ever man did merit.
3: My talk to thee must be how Benedick
3: Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter
3: Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,
3: That only wounds by hearsay.
3: [Enter Beatrice.]
3: Now begin;
3: For look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs
3: Close by the ground, to hear our conference.
3: [Beatrice hides in the arbour].
3: Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
3: Cut with her golden oars the silver stream
3: And greedily devour the treacherous bait.
3: So angle we for Beatrice, who even now
3: Is couched in the woodbine coverture.
3: Fear you not my part of the dialogue.
3: Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing
3: Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.
3: [They approach the arbour.]
3: No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful.
3: I know her spirits are as coy and wild
3: As haggards of the rock.
3: Urs. But are you sure
3: That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?
3: Hero. So says the Prince, and my new-trothed lord.
3: Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?
3: Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it;
3: But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick,
3: To wish him wrestle with affection
3: And never to let Beatrice know of it.
3: Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman
3: Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed
3: As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?
3: Hero. O god of love! I know he doth deserve
3: As much as may be yielded to a man:
3: But Nature never fram'd a woman's heart
3: Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice.
3: Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
3: Misprizing what they look on; and her wit
3: Values itself so highly that to her
3: All matter else seems weak. She cannot love,
3: Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
3: She is so self-endeared.
3: Urs. Sure I think so;
3: And therefore certainly it were not good
3: She knew his love, lest she'll make sport at it.
3: Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man,
3: How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
3: But she would spell him backward. If fair-fac'd,
3: She would swear the gentleman should be her sister;
3: If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antic,
3: Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;
3: If low, an agate very vilely cut;
3: If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
3: If silent, why, a block moved with none.
3: So turns she every man the wrong side out
3: And never gives to truth and virtue that
3: Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.
3: Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.
3: Hero. No, not to be so odd, and from all fashions,
3: As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable.
3: But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
3: She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
3: Out of myself, press me to death with wit!
3: Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
3: Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly.
3: It were a better death than die with mocks,
3: Which is as bad as die with tickling.
3: Urs. Yet tell her of it. Hear what she will say.
3: Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick
3: And counsel him to fight against his passion.
3: And truly, I'll devise some honest slanders
3: To stain my cousin with. One doth not know
3: How much an ill word may empoison liking.
3: Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong!
3: She cannot be so much without true judgment
3: (Having so swift and excellent a wit
3: As she is priz'd to have) as to refuse
3: So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.
3: Hero. He is the only man of Italy,
3: Always excepted my dear Claudio.
3: Urs. I pray you be not angry with me, madam,
3: Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick,
3: For shape, for bearing, argument, and valour,
3: Goes foremost in report through Italy.
3: Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name.
3: Urs. His excellence did earn it ere he had it.
3: When are you married, madam?
3: Hero. Why, every day to-morrow! Come, go in.
3: I'll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel
3: Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.
3: [They walk away.]
3: Urs. She's lim'd, I warrant you! We have caught her, madam.
3: Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps;
3: Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
3: Exeunt [Hero and Ursula].
3: [Beatrice advances from the arbour.]
3: Beat. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?
3: Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much?
3: Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu!
3: No glory lives behind the back of such.
3: And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,
3: Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.
3: If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee
3: To bind our loves up in a holy band;
3: For others say thou dost deserve, and I
3: Believe it better than reportingly.                    Exit.
3: Scene II.
3: A room in Leonato's house.
3: Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato.
3: Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go
3: I toward Arragon.
3: Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me.
3: Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your
3: marriage as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear
3: it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from
3: the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth.
3: He hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring, and the little
3: hangman dare not shoot at him. He hath a heart as sound as a
3: bell; and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks,
3: his tongue speaks.
3: Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been.
3: Leon. So say I. Methinks you are sadder.
3: Claud. I hope he be in love.
3: Pedro. Hang him, truant! There's no true drop of blood in him to be
3: truly touch'd with love. If he be sad, he wants money.
3: Bene. I have the toothache.
3: Pedro. Draw it.
3: Bene. Hang it!
3: Claud. You must hang it first and draw it afterwards.
3: Pedro. What? sigh for the toothache?
3: Leon. Where is but a humour or a worm.
3: Bene. Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it.
3: Claud. Yet say I he is in love.
3: Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy
3: that he hath to strange disguises; as to be a Dutchman to-day, a
3: Frenchman to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, as
3: a German from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from
3: the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this
3: foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you
3: would have it appear he is.
3: Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing
3: old signs. 'A brushes his hat o' mornings. What should that bode?
3: Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's?
3: Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him, and the
3: old ornament of his cheek hath already stuff'd tennis balls.
3: Leon. Indeed he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard.
3: Pedro. Nay, 'a rubs himself with civet. Can you smell him out by
3: that?
3: Claud. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love.
3: Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy.
3: Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face?
3: Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which I hear what they say
3: of him.
3: Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is new-crept into a
3: lutestring, and now govern'd by stops.
3: Pedro. Indeed that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, conclude,
3: he is in love.
3: Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him.
3: Pedro. That would I know too. I warrant, one that knows him not.
3: Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions; and in despite of all, dies for
3: him.
3: Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards.
3: Bene. Yet is this no charm for the toothache. Old signior, walk
3: aside with me. I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak
3: to you, which these hobby-horses must not hear.
3: [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato.]
3: Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice!
3: Claud. 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this played their
3: parts with Beatrice, and then the two bears will not bite one
3: another when they meet.
3: Enter John the Bastard.
3: John. My lord and brother, God save you.
3: Pedro. Good den, brother.
3: John. If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with you.
3: Pedro. In private?
3: John. If it please you. Yet Count Claudio may hear, for what I
3: would speak of concerns him.
3: Pedro. What's the matter?
3: John. [to Claudio] Means your lordship to be married tomorrow?
3: Pedro. You know he does.
3: John. I know not that, when he knows what I know.
3: Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it.
3: John. You may think I love you not. Let that appear hereafter, and
3: aim better at me by that I now will manifest. For my brother, I
3: think he holds you well and in dearness of heart hath holp to
3: effect your ensuing marriage--surely suit ill spent and labour
3: ill bestowed!
3: Pedro. Why, what's the matter?
3: John. I came hither to tell you, and, circumstances short'ned (for
3: she has been too long a-talking of), the lady is disloyal.
3: Claud. Who? Hero?
3: John. Even she--Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero.
3: Claud. Disloyal?
3: John. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness. I could say
3: she were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to
3: it. Wonder not till further warrant. Go but with me to-night, you
3: shall see her chamber window ent'red, even the night before her
3: wedding day. If you love her then, to-morrow wed her. But it
3: would better fit your honour to change your mind.
3: Claud. May this be so?
3: Pedro. I will not think it.
3: John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you
3: know. If you will follow me, I will show you enough; and when you
3: have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly.
3: Claud. If I see anything to-night why I should not marry her
3: to-morrow, in the congregation where I should wed, there will I
3: shame her.
3: Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with
3: thee to disgrace her.
3: John. I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses.
3: Bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself.
3: Pedro. O day untowardly turned!
3: Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting!
3: John. O plague right well prevented!
3: So will you say when you have seen the Sequel.
3: Exeunt.
3: Scene III.
3: A street.
3: Enter Dogberry and his compartner [Verges], with the Watch.
3: Dog. Are you good men and true?
3: Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation,
3: body and soul.
3: Dog. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them if they should
3: have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's watch.
3: Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry.
3: Dog. First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable?
3: 1. Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal; for they can write
3: and read.
3: Dog. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. God hath bless'd you with a
3: good name. To be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune, but
3: to write and read comes by nature.
3: 2. Watch. Both which, Master Constable--
3: Dog. You have. I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your
3: favour, sir, why, give God thanks and make no boast of it; and
3: for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no
3: need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most
3: senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch. Therefore
3: bear you the lanthorn. This is your charge: you shall comprehend
3: all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in the Prince's
3: name.
3: 2. Watch. How if 'a will not stand?
3: Dog. Why then, take no note of him, but let him go, and presently
3: call the rest of the watch together and thank God you are rid of
3: a knave.
3: Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the
3: Prince's subjects.
3: Dog. True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's
3: subjects. You shall also make no noise in the streets; for for
3: the watch to babble and to talk is most tolerable, and not to be
3: endured.
3: 2. Watch. We will rather sleep than talk. We know what belongs to
3: a watch.
3: Dog. Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I
3: cannot see how sleeping should offend. Only have a care that your
3: bills be not stol'n. Well, you are to call at all the alehouses
3: and bid those that are drunk get them to bed.
3: 2. Watch. How if they will not?
3: Dog. Why then, let them alone till they are sober. If they make you
3: not then the better answer, You may say they are not the men you
3: took them for.
3: 2. Watch. Well, sir.
3: Dog. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your
3: office, to be no true man; and for such kind of men, the less you
3: meddle or make with them, why, the more your honesty.
3: 2. Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on
3: him?
3: Dog. Truly, by your office you may; but I think they that touch
3: pitch will be defil'd. The most peaceable way for you, if you do
3: take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is, and steal
3: out of your company.
3: Verg. You have been always called a merciful man, partner.
3: Dog. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who
3: hath any honesty in him.
3: Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the
3: nurse and bid her still it.
3: 2. Watch. How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us?
3: Dog. Why then, depart in peace and let the child wake her with
3: crying; for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes will
3: never answer a calf when he bleats.
3: Verg. 'Tis very true.
3: Dog. This is the end of the charge: you, constable, are to present
3: the Prince's own person. If you meet the Prince in the night,
3: you may stay him.
3: Verg. Nay, by'r lady, that I think 'a cannot.
3: Dog. Five shillings to one on't with any man that knows the
3: statutes, he may stay him! Marry, not without the Prince be
3: willing; for indeed the watch ought to offend no man, and it is
3: an offence to stay a man against his will.
3: Verg. By'r lady, I think it be so.
3: Dog. Ha, ah, ha! Well, masters, good night. An there be any matter
3: of weight chances, call up me. Keep your fellows' counsels and
3: your own, and good night. Come, neighbour.
3: 2. Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge. Let us go sit here
3: upon the church bench till two, and then all to bed.
3: Dog. One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you watch about
3: Signior Leonato's door; for the wedding being there tomorrow,
3: there is a great coil to-night. Adieu. Be vigitant, I beseech
3: you.                           Exeunt [Dogberry and Verges].
3: Enter Borachio and Conrade.
3: Bora. What, Conrade!
3: 2. Watch. [aside] Peace! stir not!
3: Bora. Conrade, I say!
3: Con. Here, man. I am at thy elbow.
3: Bora. Mass, and my elbow itch'd! I thought there would a scab
3: follow.
3: Con. I will owe thee an answer for that; and now forward with thy
3: tale.
3: Bora. Stand thee close then under this penthouse, for it drizzles
3: rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee.
3: 2. Watch. [aside] Some treason, masters. Yet stand close.
3: Bora. Therefore know I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats.
3: Con. Is it possible that any villany should be so dear?
3: Bora. Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villany
3: should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones,
3: poor ones may make what price they will.
3: Con. I wonder at it.
3: Bora. That shows thou art unconfirm'd. Thou knowest that the
3: fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man.
3: Con. Yes, it is apparel.
3: Bora. I mean the fashion.
3: Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion.
3: Bora. Tush! I may as well say the fool's the fool. But seest thou
3: not what a deformed thief this fashion is?
3: 2. Watch. [aside] I know that Deformed. 'A bas been a vile thief
3: this seven year; 'a goes up and down like a gentleman. I remember
3: his name.
3: Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody?
3: Con. No; 'twas the vane on the house.
3: Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is?
3: how giddily 'a turns about all the hot-bloods between fourteen
3: and five-and-thirty? sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoh's
3: soldiers in the reechy painting, sometime like god Bel's priests
3: in the old church window, sometime like the shaven Hercules in
3: the smirch'd worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as
3: massy as his club?
3: Con. All this I see; and I see that the fashion wears out more
3: apparel than the man. But art not thou thyself giddy with the
3: fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling
3: me of the fashion?
3: Bora. Not so neither. But know that I have to-night wooed Margaret,
3: the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero. She leans me
3: out at her mistress' chamber window, bids me a thousand times
3: good night--I tell this tale vilely; I should first tell thee how
3: the Prince, Claudio and my master, planted and placed and
3: possessed by my master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this
3: amiable encounter.
3: Con. And thought they Margaret was Hero?
3: Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio; but the devil my
3: master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which
3: first possess'd them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive
3: them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any slander
3: that Don John had made, away went Claudio enrag'd; swore he would
3: meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and
3: there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw
3: o'ernight and send her home again without a husband.
3: 2. Watch. We charge you in the Prince's name stand!
3: 1. Watch. Call up the right Master Constable. We have here
3: recover'd the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known
3: in the commonwealth.
3: 2. Watch. And one Deformed is one of them. I know him; 'a wears a
3: lock.
3: Con. Masters, masters--
3: 1. Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you.
3: Con. Masters--
3: 2. Watch. Never speak, we charge you. Let us obey you to go with
3: us.
3: Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of
3: these men's bills.
3: Con. A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we'll obey you.
3: Exeunt.
3: Scene IV.
3: A Room in Leonato's house.
3: Enter Hero, and Margaret and Ursula.
3: Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice and desire her to rise.
3: Urs. I will, lady.
3: Hero. And bid her come hither.
3: Urs. Well.                                             [Exit.]
3: Marg. Troth, I think your other rebato were better.
3: Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this.
3: Marg. By my troth, 's not so good, and I warrant your cousin will
3: say so.
3: Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art another. I'll wear none but
3: this.
3: Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a
3: thought browner; and your gown's a most rare fashion, i' faith.
3: I saw the Duchess of Milan's gown that they praise so.
3: Hero. O, that exceeds, they say.
3: Marg. By my troth, 's but a nightgown in respect of yours--
3: cloth-o'-gold and cuts, and lac'd with silver, set with pearls
3: down sleeves, side-sleeves, and skirts, round underborne with
3: a blush tinsel. But for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent
3: fashion, yours is worth ten on't.
3: Hero. God give me joy to wear it! for my heart is exceeding heavy.
3: Marg. 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man.
3: Hero. Fie upon thee! art not ashamed?
3: Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not marriage
3: honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without
3: marriage? I think you would have me say, 'saving your reverence,
3: a husband.' An bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll
3: offend nobody. Is there any harm in 'the heavier for a husband'?
3: None, I think, an it be the right husband and the right wife.
3: Otherwise 'tis light, and not heavy. Ask my Lady Beatrice else.
3: Here she comes.
3: Enter Beatrice.
3: Hero. Good morrow, coz.
3: Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero.
3: Hero. Why, how now? Do you speak in the sick tune?
3: Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks.
3: Marg. Clap's into 'Light o' love.' That goes without a burden. Do
3: you sing it, and I'll dance it.
3: Beat. Yea, 'Light o' love' with your heels! then, if your husband
3: have stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no barnes.
3: Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.
3: Beat. 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready.
3: By my troth, I am exceeding ill. Hey-ho!
3: Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?
3: Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H.
3: Marg. Well, an you be not turn'd Turk, there's no more sailing by
3: the star.
3: Beat. What means the fool, trow?
3: Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire!
3: Hero. These gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent
3: perfume.
3: Beat. I am stuff'd, cousin; I cannot smell.
3: Marg. A maid, and stuff'd! There's goodly catching of cold.
3: Beat. O, God help me! God help me! How long have you profess'd
3: apprehension?
3: Marg. Ever since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely?
3: Beat. It is not seen enough. You should wear it in your cap. By my
3: troth, I am sick.
3: Marg. Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus and lay it
3: to your heart. It is the only thing for a qualm.
3: Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle.
3: Beat. Benedictus? why benedictus? You have some moral in this
3: 'benedictus.'
3: Marg. Moral? No, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant
3: plain holy thistle. You may think perchance that I think you are
3: in love. Nay, by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I
3: list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor indeed I cannot
3: think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in
3: love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love.
3: Yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man. He
3: swore he would never marry; and yet now in despite of his heart
3: he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be converted I
3: know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do.
3: Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?
3: Marg. Not a false gallop.
3: Enter Ursula.
3: Urs. Madam, withdraw. The Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don
3: John, and all the gallants of the town are come to fetch you to
3: church.
3: Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula.
3: [Exeunt.]
3: Scene V.
3: The hall in Leonato's house.
3: Enter Leonato and the Constable [Dogberry] and the Headborough [verges].
3: Leon. What would you with me, honest neighbour?
3: Dog. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns
3: you nearly.
3: Leon. Brief, I pray you; for you see it is a busy time with me.
3: Dog. Marry, this it is, sir.
3: Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir.
3: Leon. What is it, my good friends?
3: Dog. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter--an old
3: man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt as, God help, I would
3: desire they were; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his
3: brows.
3: Verg. Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an
3: old man and no honester than I.
3: Dog. Comparisons are odorous. Palabras, neighbour Verges.
3: Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious.
3: Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor Duke's
3: officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a
3: king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship.
3: Leon. All thy tediousness on me, ah?
3: Dog. Yea, in 'twere a thousand pound more than 'tis; for I hear as
3: good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city; and
3: though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it.
3: Verg. And so am I.
3: Leon. I would fain know what you have to say.
3: Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship's
3: presence, ha' ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in
3: Messina.
3: Dog. A good old man, sir; he will be talking. As they say, 'When
3: the age is in, the wit is out.' God help us! it is a world to
3: see! Well said, i' faith, neighbour Verges. Well, God's a good
3: man. An two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind. An honest
3: soul, i' faith, sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke bread; but
3: God is to be worshipp'd; all men are not alike, alas, good
3: neighbour!
3: Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.
3: Dog. Gifts that God gives.
3: Leon. I must leave you.
3: Dog. One word, sir. Our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended two
3: aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined
3: before your worship.
3: Leon. Take their examination yourself and bring it me. I am now in
3: great haste, as it may appear unto you.
3: Dog. It shall be suffigance.
3: Leon. Drink some wine ere you go. Fare you well.
3: [Enter a Messenger.]
3: Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her
3: husband.
3: Leon. I'll wait upon them. I am ready.
3: [Exeunt Leonato and Messenger.]
3: Dog. Go, good partner, go get you to Francis Seacoal; bid him bring
3: his pen and inkhorn to the jail. We are now to examination these
3: men.
3: Verg. And we must do it wisely.
3: Dog. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you. Here's that shall
3: drive some of them to a non-come. Only get the learned writer to
3: set down our excommunication, and meet me at the jail.
3: [Exeunt.]
3: ACT IV. Scene I.
3: A church.
3: Enter Don Pedro, [John the] Bastard, Leonato, Friar [Francis], Claudio,
3: Benedick, Hero, Beatrice, [and Attendants].
3: Leon. Come, Friar Francis, be brief. Only to the plain form of
3: marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties
3: afterwards.
3: Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady?
3: Claud. No.
3: Leon. To be married to her. Friar, you come to marry her.
3: Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married to this count?
3: Hero. I do.
3: Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should
3: not be conjoined, I charge you on your souls to utter it.
3: Claud. Know you any, Hero?
3: Hero. None, my lord.
3: Friar. Know you any, Count?
3: Leon. I dare make his answer--none.
3: Claud. O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not
3: knowing what they do!
3: Bene. How now? interjections? Why then, some be of laughing, as,
3: ah, ha, he!
3: Claud. Stand thee by, friar. Father, by your leave:
3: Will you with free and unconstrained soul
3: Give me this maid your daughter?
3: Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me.
3: Claud. And what have I to give you back whose worth
3: May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?
3: Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again.
3: Claud. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulness.
3: There, Leonato, take her back again.
3: Give not this rotten orange to your friend.
3: She's but the sign and semblance of her honour.
3: Behold how like a maid she blushes here!
3: O, what authority and show of truth
3: Can cunning sin cover itself withal!
3: Comes not that blood as modest evidence
3: To witness simple virtue, Would you not swear,
3: All you that see her, that she were a maid
3: By these exterior shows? But she is none:
3: She knows the heat of a luxurious bed;
3: Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.
3: Leon. What do you mean, my lord?
3: Claud. Not to be married,
3: Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton.
3: Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof,
3: Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth
3: And made defeat of her virginity--
3: Claud. I know what you would say. If I have known her,
3: You will say she did embrace me as a husband,
3: And so extenuate the forehand sin.
3: No, Leonato,
3: I never tempted her with word too large,
3: But, as a brother to his sister, show'd
3: Bashful sincerity and comely love.
3: Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you?
3: Claud. Out on the seeming! I will write against it.
3: You seem to me as Dian in her orb,
3: As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown;
3: But you are more intemperate in your blood
3: Than Venus, or those pamp'red animals
3: That rage in savage sensuality.
3: Hero. Is my lord well that he doth speak so wide?
3: Leon. Sweet Prince, why speak not you?
3: Pedro. What should I speak?
3: I stand dishonour'd that have gone about
3: To link my dear friend to a common stale.
3: Leon. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?
3: John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.
3: Bene. This looks not like a nuptial.
3: Hero. 'True!' O God!
3: Claud. Leonato, stand I here?
3: Is this the Prince, Is this the Prince's brother?
3: Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own?
3: Leon. All this is so; but what of this, my lord?
3: Claud. Let me but move one question to your daughter,
3: And by that fatherly and kindly power
3: That you have in her, bid her answer truly.
3: Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child.
3: Hero. O, God defend me! How am I beset!
3: What kind of catechising call you this?
3: Claud. To make you answer truly to your name.
3: Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name
3: With any just reproach?
3: Claud. Marry, that can Hero!
3: Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue.
3: What man was he talk'd with you yesternight,
3: Out at your window betwixt twelve and one?
3: Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.
3: Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord.
3: Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato,
3: I am sorry you must hear. Upon my honour,
3: Myself, my brother, and this grieved Count
3: Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night
3: Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window,
3: Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain,
3: Confess'd the vile encounters they have had
3: A thousand times in secret.
3: John. Fie, fie! they are not to be nam'd, my lord--
3: Not to be spoke of;
3: There is not chastity, enough in language
3: Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady,
3: I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.
3: Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been
3: If half thy outward graces had been plac'd
3: About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart!
3: But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! Farewell,
3: Thou pure impiety and impious purity!
3: For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love,
3: And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang,
3: To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
3: And never shall it more be gracious.
3: Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me?
3: [Hero swoons.]
3: Beat. Why, how now, cousin? Wherefore sink you down?
3: John. Come let us go. These things, come thus to light,
3: Smother her spirits up.
3: [Exeunt Don Pedro, Don Juan, and Claudio.]
3: Bene. How doth the lady?
3: Beat. Dead, I think. Help, uncle!
3: Hero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar!
3: Leon. O Fate, take not away thy heavy hand!
3: Death is the fairest cover for her shame
3: That may be wish'd for.
3: Beat. How now, cousin Hero?
3: Friar. Have comfort, lady.
3: Leon. Dost thou look up?
3: Friar. Yea, wherefore should she not?
3: Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing
3: Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
3: The story that is printed in her blood?
3: Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes;
3: For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,
3: Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,
3: Myself would on the rearward of reproaches
3: Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one?
3: Child I for that at frugal nature's frame?
3: O, one too much by thee! Why had I one?
3: Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?
3: Why had I not with charitable hand
3: Took up a beggar's issue at my gates,
3: Who smirched thus and mir'd with infamy,
3: I might have said, 'No part of it is mine;
3: This shame derives itself from unknown loins'?
3: But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd,
3: And mine that I was proud on--mine so much
3: That I myself was to myself not mine,
3: Valuing of her--why, she, O, she is fall'n
3: Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea
3: Hath drops too few to wash her clean again,
3: And salt too little which may season give
3: To her foul tainted flesh!
3: Bene. Sir, sir, be patient.
3: For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder,
3: I know not what to say.
3: Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied!
3: Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?
3: Beat. No, truly, not; although, until last night,
3: I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow
3: Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger made
3: Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron!
3: Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie,
3: Who lov'd her so that, speaking of her foulness,
3: Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her! let her die.
3: Friar. Hear me a little;
3: For I have only been silent so long,
3: And given way unto this course of fortune,
3: By noting of the lady. I have mark'd
3: A thousand blushing apparitions
3: To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames
3: In angel whiteness beat away those blushes,
3: And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire
3: To burn the errors that these princes hold
3: Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool;
3: Trust not my reading nor my observation,
3: Which with experimental seal doth warrant
3: The tenure of my book; trust not my age,
3: My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
3: If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
3: Under some biting error.
3: Leon. Friar, it cannot be.
3: Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left
3: Is that she will not add to her damnation
3: A sin of perjury: she not denies it.
3: Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse
3: That which appears in proper nakedness?
3: Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of?
3: Hero. They know that do accuse me; I know none.
3: If I know more of any man alive
3: Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
3: Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father,
3: Prove you that any man with me convers'd
3: At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight
3: Maintain'd the change of words with any creature,
3: Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death!
3: Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes.
3: Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour;
3: And if their wisdoms be misled in this,
3: The practice of it lives in John the bastard,
3: Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies.
3: Leon. I know not. If they speak but truth of her,
3: These hands shall tear her. If they wrong her honour,
3: The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
3: Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
3: Nor age so eat up my invention,
3: Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
3: Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
3: But they shall find awak'd in such a kind
3: Both strength of limb and policy of mind,
3: Ability in means, and choice of friends,
3: To quit me of them throughly.
3: Friar. Pause awhile
3: And let my counsel sway you in this case.
3: Your daughter here the princes left for dead,
3: Let her awhile be secretly kept in,
3: And publish it that she is dead indeed;
3: Maintain a mourning ostentation,
3: And on your family's old monument
3: Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites
3: That appertain unto a burial.
3: Leon. What shall become of this? What will this do?
3: Friar. Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf
3: Change slander to remorse. That is some good.
3: But not for that dream I on this strange course,
3: But on this travail look for greater birth.
3: She dying, as it must be so maintain'd,
3: Upon the instant that she was accus'd,
3: Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus'd
3: Of every hearer; for it so falls out
3: That what we have we prize not to the worth
3: Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost,
3: Why, then we rack the value, then we find
3: The virtue that possession would not show us
3: Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio.
3: When he shall hear she died upon his words,
3: Th' idea of her life shall sweetly creep
3: Into his study of imagination,
3: And every lovely organ of her life
3: Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit,
3: More moving, delicate, and full of life,
3: Into the eye and prospect of his soul
3: Than when she liv'd indeed. Then shall he mourn
3: (If ever love had interest in his liver)
3: And wish he had not so accused her--
3: No, though be thought his accusation true.
3: Let this be so, and doubt not but success
3: Will fashion the event in better shape
3: Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
3: But if all aim but this be levell'd false,
3: The supposition of the lady's death
3: Will quench the wonder of her infamy.
3: And if it sort not well, you may conceal her,
3: As best befits her wounded reputation,
3: In some reclusive and religious life,
3: Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.
3: Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you;
3: And though you know my inwardness and love
3: Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio,
3: Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this
3: As secretly and justly as your soul
3: Should with your body.
3: Leon. Being that I flow in grief,
3: The smallest twine may lead me.
3: Friar. 'Tis well consented. Presently away;
3: For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure.
3: Come, lady, die to live. This wedding day
3: Perhaps is but prolong'd. Have patience and endure.
3: Exeunt [all but Benedick and Beatrice].
3: Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?
3: Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer.
3: Bene. I will not desire that.
3: Beat. You have no reason. I do it freely.
3: Bene. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.
3: Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right
3: her!
3: Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship?
3: Beat. A very even way, but no such friend.
3: Bene. May a man do it?
3: Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours.
3: Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that
3: strange?
3: Beat. As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for
3: me to say I loved nothing so well as you. But believe me not; and
3: yet I lie not. I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry
3: for my cousin.
3: Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.
3: Beat. Do not swear, and eat it.
3: Bene. I will swear by it that you love me, and I will make him eat
3: it that says I love not you.
3: Beat. Will you not eat your word?
3: Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love
3: thee.
3: Beat. Why then, God forgive me!
3: Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice?
3: Beat. You have stayed me in a happy hour. I was about to protest I
3: loved you.
3: Bene. And do it with all thy heart.
3: Beat. I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to
3: protest.
3: Bene. Come, bid me do anything for thee.
3: Beat. Kill Claudio.
3: Bene. Ha! not for the wide world!
3: Beat. You kill me to deny it. Farewell.
3: Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice.
3: Beat. I am gone, though I am here. There is no love in you. Nay, I
3: pray you let me go.
3: Bene. Beatrice--
3: Beat. In faith, I will go.
3: Bene. We'll be friends first.
3: Beat. You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine
3: enemy.
3: Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy?
3: Beat. Is 'a not approved in the height a villain, that hath
3: slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a
3: man! What? bear her in hand until they come to take hands, and
3: then with public accusation, uncover'd slander, unmitigated
3: rancour--O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the
3: market place.
3: Bene. Hear me, Beatrice!
3: Beat. Talk with a man out at a window!-a proper saying!
3: Bene. Nay but Beatrice--
3: Beat. Sweet Hero! she is wrong'd, she is sland'red, she is undone.
3: Bene. Beat--
3: Beat. Princes and Counties! Surely a princely testimony, a goodly
3: count, Count Comfect, a sweet gallant surely! O that I were a man
3: for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my
3: sake! But manhood is melted into cursies, valour into compliment,
3: and men are only turn'd into tongue, and trim ones too. He is now
3: as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie,and swears it. I
3: cannot be a man with wishing; therefore I will die a woman with
3: grieving.
3: Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee.
3: Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.
3: Bene. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero?
3: Beat. Yea, as sure is I have a thought or a soul.
3: Bene. Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him. I will kiss your
3: hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a
3: dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go comfort your
3: cousin. I must say she is dead-and so farewell.
3: [Exeunt.]
3: Scene II.
3: A prison.
3: Enter the Constables [Dogberry and Verges] and the Sexton, in gowns,
3: [and the Watch, with Conrade and] Borachio.
3: Dog. Is our whole dissembly appear'd?
3: Verg. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton.
3: Sex. Which be the malefactors?
3: Dog. Marry, that am I and my partner.
3: Verg. Nay, that's certain. We have the exhibition to examine.
3: Sex. But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let them
3: come before Master Constable.
3: Dog. Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your name,
3: friend?
3: Bor. Borachio.
3: Dog. Pray write down Borachio. Yours, sirrah?
3: Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.
3: Dog. Write down Master Gentleman Conrade. Masters, do you serve
3: God?
3: Both. Yea, sir, we hope.
3: Dog. Write down that they hope they serve God; and write God first,
3: for God defend but God should go before such villains! Masters,
3: it is proved already that you are little better than false
3: knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer
3: you for yourselves?
3: Con. Marry, sir, we say we are none.
3: Dog. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; but I will go about
3: with him. Come you hither, sirrah. A word in your ear. Sir, I say
3: to you, it is thought you are false knaves.
3: Bora. Sir, I say to you we are none.
3: Dog. Well, stand aside. Fore God, they are both in a tale.
3: Have you writ down that they are none?
3: Sex. Master Constable, you go not the way to examine. You must call
3: forth the watch that are their accusers.
3: Dog. Yea, marry, that's the eftest way. Let the watch come forth.
3: Masters, I charge you in the Prince's name accuse these men.
3: 1. Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John the Prince's brother
3: was a villain.
3: Dog. Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat perjury,
3: to call a prince's brother villain.
3: Bora. Master Constable--
3: Dog. Pray thee, fellow, peace. I do not like thy look, I promise
3: thee.
3: Sex. What heard you him say else?
3: 2. Watch. Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John
3: for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.
3: Dog. Flat burglary as ever was committed.
3: Verg. Yea, by th' mass, that it is.
3: Sex. What else, fellow?
3: 1. Watch. And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to
3: disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her.
3: Dog. O villain! thou wilt be condemn'd into everlasting redemption
3: for this.
3: Sex. What else?
3: Watchmen. This is all.
3: Sex. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is
3: this morning secretly stol'n away. Hero was in this manner
3: accus'd, in this manner refus'd, and upon the grief of this
3: suddenly died. Master Constable, let these men be bound and
3: brought to Leonato's. I will go before and show him their
3: examination.                                         [Exit.]
3: Dog. Come, let them be opinion'd.
3: Verg. Let them be in the hands--
3: Con. Off, coxcomb!
3: Dog. God's my life, where's the sexton? Let him write down the
3: Prince's officer coxcomb. Come, bind them.--Thou naughty varlet!
3: Con. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass.
3: Dog. Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not suspect my
3: years? O that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters,
3: remember that I am an ass. Though it be not written down, yet
3: forget not that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of
3: piety, as shall be prov'd upon thee by good witness. I am a wise
3: fellow; and which is more, an officer; and which is more, a
3: householder; and which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any
3: is in Messina, and one that knows the law, go to! and a rich
3: fellow enough, go to! and a fellow that hath had losses; and one
3: that hath two gowns and everything handsome about him. Bring him
3: away. O that I had been writ down an ass!
3: Exeunt.
3: ACT V. Scene I.
3: The street, near Leonato's house.
3: Enter Leonato and his brother [ Antonio].
3: Ant. If you go on thus, you will kill yourself,
3: And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief
3: Against yourself.
3: Leon. I pray thee cease thy counsel,
3: Which falls into mine ears as profitless
3: As water in a sieve. Give not me counsel,
3: Nor let no comforter delight mine ear
3: But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.
3: Bring me a father that so lov'd his child,
3: Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine,
3: And bid him speak to me of patience.
3: Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine,
3: And let it answer every strain for strain,
3: As thus for thus, and such a grief for such,
3: In every lineament, branch, shape, and form.
3: If such a one will smile and stroke his beard,
3: Bid sorrow wag, cry 'hem' when he should groan,
3: Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk
3: With candle-wasters--bring him yet to me,
3: And I of him will gather patience.
3: But there is no such man; for, brother, men
3: Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief
3: Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,
3: Their counsel turns to passion, which before
3: Would give preceptial medicine to rage,
3: Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,
3: Charm ache with air and agony with words.
3: No, no! 'Tis all men's office to speak patience
3: To those that wring under the load of sorrow,
3: But no man's virtue nor sufficiency
3: To be so moral when he shall endure
3: The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel.
3: My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
3: Ant. Therein do men from children nothing differ.
3: Leon. I pray thee peace. I will be flesh and blood;
3: For there was never yet philosopher
3: That could endure the toothache patiently,
3: However they have writ the style of gods
3: And made a push at chance and sufferance.
3: Ant. Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself.
3: Make those that do offend you suffer too.
3: Leon. There thou speak'st reason. Nay, I will do so.
3: My soul doth tell me Hero is belied;
3: And that shall Claudio know; so shall the Prince,
3: And all of them that thus dishonour her.
3: Enter Don Pedro and Claudio.
3: Ant. Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily.
3: Pedro. Good den, Good den.
3: Claud. Good day to both of you.
3: Leon. Hear you, my lords!
3: Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato.
3: Leon. Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord.
3: Are you so hasty now? Well, all is one.
3: Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man.
3: Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling,
3: Some of us would lie low.
3: Claud. Who wrongs him?
3: Leon. Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou!
3: Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword;
3: I fear thee not.
3: Claud. Mary, beshrew my hand
3: If it should give your age such cause of fear.
3: In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.
3: Leon. Tush, tush, man! never fleer and jest at me
3: I speak not like a dotard nor a fool,
3: As under privilege of age to brag
3: What I have done being young, or what would do,
3: Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head,
3: Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me
3: That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by
3: And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days,
3: Do challenge thee to trial of a man.
3: I say thou hast belied mine innocent child;
3: Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,
3: And she lied buried with her ancestors-
3: O, in a tomb where never scandal slept,
3: Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villany!
3: Claud. My villany?
3: Leon. Thine, Claudio; thine I say.
3: Pedro. You say not right, old man
3: Leon. My lord, my lord,
3: I'll prove it on his body if he dare,
3: Despite his nice fence and his active practice,
3: His May of youth and bloom of lustihood.
3: Claud. Away! I will not have to do with you.
3: Leon. Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast kill'd my child.
3: If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.
3: And. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed
3: But that's no matter; let him kill one first.
3: Win me and wear me! Let him answer me.
3: Come, follow me, boy,. Come, sir boy, come follow me.
3: Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence!
3: Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.
3: Leon. Brother--
3: Ant. Content yourself. God knows I lov'd my niece,
3: And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains,
3: That dare as well answer a man indeed
3: As I dare take a serpent by the tongue.
3: Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops!
3: Leon. Brother Anthony--
3: Ant. Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea,
3: And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple,
3: Scambling, outfacing, fashion-monging boys,
3: That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander,
3: Go anticly, show outward hideousness,
3: And speak off half a dozen dang'rous words,
3: How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst;
3: And this is all.
3: Leon. But, brother Anthony--
3: Ant. Come, 'tis no matter.
3: Do not you meddle; let me deal in this.
3: Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience.
3: My heart is sorry for your daughter's death;
3: But, on my honour, she was charg'd with nothing
3: But what was true, and very full of proof.
3: Leon. My lord, my lord--
3: Pedro. I will not hear you.
3: Leon. No? Come, brother, away!--I will be heard.
3: Ant. And shall, or some of us will smart for it.
3: Exeunt ambo.
3: Enter Benedick.
3: Pedro. See, see! Here comes the man we went to seek.
3: Claud. Now, signior, what news?
3: Bene. Good day, my lord.
3: Pedro. Welcome, signior. You are almost come to part almost a fray.
3: Claud. We had lik'd to have had our two noses snapp'd off with two
3: old men without teeth.
3: Pedro. Leonato and his brother. What think'st thou? Had we fought,
3: I doubt we should have been too young for them.
3: Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came to seek
3: you both.
3: Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof
3: melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy
3: wit?
3: Bene. It is in my scabbard. Shall I draw it?
3: Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?
3: Claud. Never any did so, though very many have been beside their
3: wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrel--draw to
3: pleasure us.
3: Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou sick or
3: angry?
3: Claud. What, courage, man! What though care kill'd a cat, thou hast
3: mettle enough in thee to kill care.
3: Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career an you charge it
3: against me. I pray you choose another subject.
3: Claud. Nay then, give him another staff; this last was broke cross.
3: Pedro. By this light, he changes more and more. I think he be angry
3: indeed.
3: Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.
3: Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear?
3: Claud. God bless me from a challenge!
3: Bene. [aside to Claudio] You are a villain. I jest not; I will make
3: it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do
3: me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have kill'd a
3: sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear
3: from you.
3: Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.
3: Pedro. What, a feast, a feast?
3: Claud. I' faith, I thank him, he hath bid me to a calve's head and
3: a capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my
3: knife's naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too?
3: Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily.
3: Pedro. I'll tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other day. I
3: said thou hadst a fine wit: 'True,' said she, 'a fine little
3: one.' 'No,' said I, 'a great wit.' 'Right,' says she, 'a great
3: gross one.' 'Nay,' said I, 'a good wit.' 'Just,' said she, 'it
3: hurts nobody.' 'Nay,' said I, 'the gentleman is wise.' 'Certain,'
3: said she, a wise gentleman.' 'Nay,' said I, 'he hath the
3: tongues.' 'That I believe' said she, 'for he swore a thing to me
3: on Monday night which he forswore on Tuesday morning. There's a
3: double tongue; there's two tongues.' Thus did she an hour
3: together transshape thy particular virtues. Yet at last she
3: concluded with a sigh, thou wast the proper'st man in Italy.
3: Claud. For the which she wept heartily and said she cared not.
3: Pedro. Yea, that she did; but yet, for all that, an if she did not
3: hate him deadly, she would love him dearly. The old man's
3: daughter told us all.
3: Claud. All, all! and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the
3: garden.
3: Pedro. But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on the
3: sensible Benedick's head?
3: Claud. Yea, and text underneath, 'Here dwells Benedick, the married
3: man'?
3: Bene. Fare you well, boy; you know my mind. I will leave you now to
3: your gossiplike humour. You break jests as braggards do their
3: blades, which God be thanked hurt not. My lord, for your many
3: courtesies I thank you. I must discontinue your company. Your
3: brother the bastard is fled from Messina. You have among you
3: kill'd a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he
3: and I shall meet; and till then peace be with him.
3: [Exit.]
3: Pedro. He is in earnest.
3: Claud. In most profound earnest; and, I'll warrant you, for the
3: love of Beatrice.
3: Pedro. And hath challeng'd thee.
3: Claud. Most sincerely.
3: Pedro. What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and
3: hose and leaves off his wit!
3: Enter Constables [Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch, leading]
3: Conrade and Borachio.
3: Claud. He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a doctor to
3: such a man.
3: Pedro. But, soft you, let me be! Pluck up, my heart, and be sad!
3: Did he not say my brother was fled?
3: Dog. Come you, sir. If justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er
3: weigh more reasons in her balance. Nay, an you be a cursing
3: hypocrite once, you must be look'd to.
3: Pedro. How now? two of my brother's men bound? Borachio one.
3: Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord.
3: Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men done?
3: Dog. Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they
3: have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and
3: lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified
3: unjust things; and to conclude, they are lying knaves.
3: Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee
3: what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed;
3: and to conclude, what you lay to their charge.
3: Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and by my troth
3: there's one meaning well suited.
3: Pedro. Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to
3: your answer? This learned constable is too cunning to be
3: understood. What's your offence?
3: Bora. Sweet Prince, let me go no farther to mine answer. Do you
3: hear me, and let this Count kill me. I have deceived even your
3: very eyes. What your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow
3: fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard me
3: confessing to this man, how Don John your brother incensed me to
3: slander the Lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard and
3: saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments; how you disgrac'd her
3: when you should marry her. My villany they have upon record,
3: which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my
3: shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master's false
3: accusation; and briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a
3: villain.
3: Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?
3: Claud. I have drunk poison whiles he utter'd it.
3: Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this?
3: Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it.
3: Pedro. He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery,
3: And fled he is upon this villany.
3: Claud. Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appear
3: In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first.
3: Dog. Come, bring away the plaintiffs. By this time our sexton hath
3: reformed Signior Leonato of the matter. And, masters, do not
3: forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an
3: ass.
3: Verg. Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too.
3: Enter Leonato, his brother [Antonio], and the Sexton.
3: Leon. Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes,
3: That, when I note another man like him,
3: I may avoid him. Which of these is he?
3: Bora. If you would know your wronger, look on me.
3: Leon. Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill'd
3: Mine innocent child?
3: Bora. Yea, even I alone.
3: Leon. No, not so, villain! thou beliest thyself.
3: Here stand a pair of honourable men--
3: A third is fled--that had a hand in it.
3: I thank you princes for my daughter's death.
3: Record it with your high and worthy deeds.
3: 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.
3: Claud. I know not how to pray your patience;
3: Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself;
3: Impose me to what penance your invention
3: Can lay upon my sin. Yet sinn'd I not
3: But in mistaking.
3: Pedro. By my soul, nor I!
3: And yet, to satisfy this good old man,
3: I would bend under any heavy weight
3: That he'll enjoin me to.
3: Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live-
3: That were impossible; but I pray you both,
3: Possess the people in Messina here
3: How innocent she died; and if your love
3: Can labour aught in sad invention,
3: Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,
3: And sing it to her bones--sing it to-night.
3: To-morrow morning come you to my house,
3: And since you could not be my son-in-law,
3: Be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter,
3: Almost the copy of my child that's dead,
3: And she alone is heir to both of us.
3: Give her the right you should have giv'n her cousin,
3: And so dies my revenge.
3: Claud. O noble sir!
3: Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me.
3: I do embrace your offer; and dispose
3: For henceforth of poor Claudio.
3: Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your coming;
3: To-night I take my leave. This naughty man
3: Shall fact to face be brought to Margaret,
3: Who I believe was pack'd in all this wrong,
3: Hir'd to it by your brother.
3: Bora. No, by my soul, she was not;
3: Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me;
3: But always hath been just and virtuous
3: In anything that I do know by her.
3: Dog. Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this
3: plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass. I beseech you let
3: it be rememb'red in his punishment. And also the watch heard them
3: talk of one Deformed. They say he wears a key in his ear, and a
3: lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God's name, the which he
3: hath us'd so long and never paid that now men grow hard-hearted
3: and will lend nothing for God's sake. Pray you examine him upon
3: that point.
3: Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.
3: Dog. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverent youth,
3: and I praise God for you.
3: Leon. There's for thy pains. [Gives money.]
3: Dog. God save the foundation!
3: Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee.
3: Dog. I leave an arrant knave with your worship, which I beseech
3: your worship to correct yourself, for the example of others.
3: God keep your worship! I wish your worship well. God restore you
3: to health! I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry
3: meeting may be wish'd, God prohibit it! Come, neighbour.
3: Exeunt [Dogberry and Verges].
3: Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell.
3: Ant. Farewell, my lords. We look for you to-morrow.
3: Pedro. We will not fall.
3: Claud. To-night I'll mourn with Hero.
3: [Exeunt Don Pedro and Claudio.]
3: Leon. [to the Watch] Bring you these fellows on.--We'll talk with
3: Margaret,
3: How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.
3: Exeunt.
3: Scene II.
3: Leonato's orchard.
3: Enter Benedick and Margaret [meeting].
3: Bene. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands
3: by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.
3: Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty?
3: Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come
3: over it; for in most comely truth thou deservest it.
3: Marg. To have no man come over me? Why, shall I always keep below
3: stairs?
3: Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth--it catches.
3: Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit but hurt
3: not.
3: Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret: it will not hurt a woman.
3: And so I pray thee call Beatrice. I give thee the bucklers.
3: Marg. Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own.
3: Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a
3: vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids.
3: Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs.
3: Bene. And therefore will come.
3: Exit Margaret.
3: [Sings] The god of love,
3: That sits above
3: And knows me, and knows me,
3: How pitiful I deserve--
3: I mean in singing; but in loving Leander the good swimmer,
3: Troilus the first employer of panders, and a whole book full of
3: these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the
3: even road of a blank verse--why, they were never so truly turn'd
3: over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I cannot show it in
3: rhyme. I have tried. I can find out no rhyme to 'lady' but 'baby'
3: --an innocent rhyme; for 'scorn,' 'horn'--a hard rhyme; for
3: 'school', 'fool'--a babbling rhyme: very ominous endings! No, I
3: was not born under a rhyming planet, nor cannot woo in festival
3: terms.
3: Enter Beatrice.
3: Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I call'd thee?
3: Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me.
3: Bene. O, stay but till then!
3: Beat. 'Then' is spoken. Fare you well now. And yet, ere I go, let
3: me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath
3: pass'd between you and Claudio.
3: Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee.
3: Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul
3: breath, and foul breath is noisome. Therefore I will depart
3: unkiss'd.
3: Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so
3: forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee plainly, Claudio
3: undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him
3: or I will subscribe him a coward. And I pray thee now tell me,
3: for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
3: Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd so politic a state of
3: evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with
3: them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love
3: for me?
3: Bene. Suffer love!--a good epithet. I do suffer love indeed, for I
3: love thee against my will.
3: Beat. In spite of your heart, I think. Alas, poor heart! If you
3: spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours, for I will never
3: love that which my friend hates.
3: Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.
3: Beat. It appears not in this confession. There's not one wise man
3: among twenty, that will praise himself.
3: Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that liv'd in the time of
3: good neighbours. If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb
3: ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell
3: rings and the widow weeps.
3: Beat. And how long is that, think you?
3: Bene. Question: why, an hour in clamour and a quarter in rheum.
3: Therefore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm (his
3: conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet
3: of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for praising
3: myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy. And now
3: tell me, how doth your cousin?
3: Beat. Very ill.
3: Bene. And how do you?
3: Beat. Very ill too.
3: Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I leave you too, for
3: here comes one in haste.
3: Enter Ursula.
3: Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder's old coil at home.
3: It is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accus'd, the Prince
3: and Claudio mightily abus'd, and Don John is the author of all,
3: who is fled and gone. Will you come presently?
3: Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior?
3: Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried thy
3: eyes; and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle's.
3: Exeunt.
3: Scene III.
3: A churchyard.
3: Enter Claudio, Don Pedro, and three or four with tapers,
3: [followed by Musicians].
3: Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato?
3: Lord. It is, my lord.
3: Claud. [reads from a scroll]
3: Epitaph.
3: Done to death by slanderous tongues
3: Was the Hero that here lies.
3: Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,
3: Gives her fame which never dies.
3: So the life that died with shame
3: Lives in death with glorious fame.
3: Hang thou there upon the tomb,
3: [Hangs up the scroll.]
3: Praising her when I am dumb.
3: Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.
3: Song.
3: Pardon, goddess of the night,
3: Those that slew thy virgin knight;
3: For the which, with songs of woe,
3: Round about her tomb they go.
3: Midnight, assist our moan,
3: Help us to sigh and groan
3: Heavily, heavily,
3: Graves, yawn and yield your dead,
3: Till death be uttered
3: Heavily, heavily.
3: Claud. Now unto thy bones good night!
3: Yearly will I do this rite.
3: Pedro. Good morrow, masters. Put your torches out.
3: The wolves have prey'd, and look, the gentle day,
3: Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about
3: Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey.
3: Thanks to you all, and leave us. Fare you well.
3: Claud. Good morrow, masters. Each his several way.
3: Pedro. Come, let us hence and put on other weeds,
3: And then to Leonato's we will go.
3: Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds
3: Than this for whom we rend'red up this woe.          Exeunt.
3: Scene IV
3: The hall in Leonato's house.
3: Enter Leonato, Benedick, [Beatrice,] Margaret, Ursula, Antonio,
3: Friar [Francis], Hero.
3: Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent?
3: Leon. So are the Prince and Claudio, who accus'd her
3: Upon the error that you heard debated.
3: But Margaret was in some fault for this,
3: Although against her will, as it appears
3: In the true course of all the question.
3: Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.
3: Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
3: To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.
3: Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
3: Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves,
3: And when I send for you, come hither mask'd.
3: Exeunt Ladies.
3: The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour
3: To visit me. You know your office, brother:
3: You must be father to your brother's daughter,
3: And give her to young Claudio.
3: Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance.
3: Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.
3: Friar. To do what, signior?
3: Bene. To bind me, or undo me--one of them.
3: Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior,
3: Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.
3: Leon. That eye my daughter lent her. 'Tis most true.
3: Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her.
3: Leon. The sight whereof I think you had from me,
3: From Claudio, and the Prince; but what's your will?
3: Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical;
3: But, for my will, my will is, your good will
3: May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
3: In the state of honourable marriage;
3: In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.
3: Leon. My heart is with your liking.
3: Friar. And my help.
3: Enter Don Pedro and Claudio and two or three other.
3: Here comes the Prince and Claudio.
3: Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly.
3: Leon. Good morrow, Prince; good morrow, Claudio.
3: We here attend you. Are you yet determin'd
3: To-day to marry with my brother's daughter?
3: Claud. I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.
3: Leon. Call her forth, brother. Here's the friar ready.
3: [Exit Antonio.]
3: Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what's the matter
3: That you have such a February face,
3: So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness?
3: Claud. I think he thinks upon the savage bull.
3: Tush, fear not, man! We'll tip thy horns with gold,
3: And all Europa shall rejoice at thee,
3: As once Europa did at lusty Jove
3: When he would play the noble beast in love.
3: Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low,
3: And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow
3: And got a calf in that same noble feat
3: Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.
3: Enter [Leonato's] brother [Antonio], Hero, Beatrice,
3: Margaret, Ursula, [the ladies wearing masks].
3: Claud. For this I owe you. Here comes other reckonings.
3: Which is the lady I must seize upon?
3: Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her.
3: Claud. Why then, she's mine. Sweet, let me see your face.
3: Leon. No, that you shall not till you take her hand
3: Before this friar and swear to marry her.
3: Claud. Give me your hand before this holy friar.
3: I am your husband if you like of me.
3: Hero. And when I liv'd I was your other wife;       [Unmasks.]
3: And when you lov'd you were my other husband.
3: Claud. Another Hero!
3: Hero. Nothing certainer.
3: One Hero died defil'd; but I do live,
3: And surely as I live, I am a maid.
3: Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead!
3: Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd.
3: Friar. All this amazement can I qualify,
3: When, after that the holy rites are ended,
3: I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death.
3: Meantime let wonder seem familiar,
3: And to the chapel let us presently.
3: Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?
3: Beat. [unmasks] I answer to that name. What is your will?
3: Bene. Do not you love me?
3: Beat. Why, no; no more than reason.
3: Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio
3: Have been deceived; for they swore you did.
3: Beat. Do not you love me?
3: Bene. Troth, no; no more than reason.
3: Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula
3: Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did.
3: Bene. They swore that you were almost sick for me.
3: Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me.
3: Bene. 'Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me?
3: Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense.
3: Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.
3: Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her;
3: For here's a paper written in his hand,
3: A halting sonnet of his own pure brain,
3: Fashion'd to Beatrice.
3: Hero. And here's another,
3: Writ in my cousin's hand, stol'n from her pocket,
3: Containing her affection unto Benedick.
3: Bene. A miracle! Here's our own hands against our hearts.
3: Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.
3: Beat. I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon
3: great persuasion, and partly to save your life, for I was told
3: you were in a consumption.
3: Bene. Peace! I will stop your mouth.             [Kisses her.]
3: Beat. I'll tell thee what, Prince: a college of wit-crackers cannot
3: flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or
3: an epigram? No. If a man will be beaten with brains, 'a shall
3: wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to
3: marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say
3: against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said
3: against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.
3: For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in
3: that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my
3: cousin.
3: Claud. I had well hop'd thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I
3: might have cudgell'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a
3: double-dealer, which out of question thou wilt be if my cousin do
3: not look exceeding narrowly to thee.
3: Bene. Come, come, we are friends. Let's have a dance ere we are
3: married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels.
3: Leon. We'll have dancing afterward.
3: Bene. First, of my word! Therefore play, music. Prince, thou art
3: sad. Get thee a wife, get thee a wife! There is no staff more
3: reverent than one tipp'd with horn.
3: Enter Messenger.
3: Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,
3: And brought with armed men back to Messina.
3: Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow. I'll devise thee brave
3: punishments for him. Strike up, pipers!
3: Dance. [Exeunt.]
3: THE END