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Title: Shakespeare's First Folio
Author: Shakespeare, William
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Shakespeare's First Folio" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.



Executive Director's Notes:

In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:

  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
your selfe

   Bar. Long liue the King

***

As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .

The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.

You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.

So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .

So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,

Executive Director


***


Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This is a copy of
Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can come in
ASCII to the printed text.

The play Pericles, Prince of Tyre is missing from this edition
of the First Folio because it wasn't printed in the First Folio.
The Sonnets and other poems of Shakespeare are also missing
because they also were not printed in the First Folio.

The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.

Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.

If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.

David Reed



Doctrine Publishing Corporation's Etext of Shakespeare's First Folio/35 Plays



To the Reader.

This Figure, that thou here feest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut:
Wherein the Grauer had a strife
with Naure, to out-doo the life:
O, could he but haue dravvne his vvit
As vvell in frasse, as he hath hit
Hisface; the Print vvould then surpasse
All, that vvas euer in frasse.
But, since he cannot, Reader, looke
Not on his picture, but his Booke.

B.I.

MR. William
SHAKESPEARES
Comedies,
Histories &
Tragedies,
Published according to the True Original Copies
London
Printed by Ifaac Iaggard, and Ed, Bount. 1623

                    TO   THE   MOST   NOBLE
                               AND
                       INCOMPARABLE  PAIRE
                           OF  BRETHREN

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

                              A N D

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

Right Honourable,

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

Your Lordshippes most bounden,

JOHN  HEMINGE.
HENRY  CONDELL.

                 To the great Variety of Readers.

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

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

John Heminge.
Henrie Condell.

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

                            COMEDIES.

The Tempest.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona.
The Merry Wives of Windsor.
Measure for Measure.
The Comedy of Errours.
Much adoo about Nothing
Loves Labour lost.
Midsommer Nights Dreame.
The Merchant of Venice.
As you Like it.
The Taming of the Shrew.
All is well, that Ends well.
Twelfe-Night, or what you will.
The Winters Tale.

                            HISTORIES.

The Life and Death of King John.
The Life & death of Richard the second.
The First part of King Henry the fourth.
The Second part of K. Henry the fourth.
The Life of King Henry the Fift.
The First part of King Henry the Sixt.
The Second part of King Hen. the Sixt.
The Third part of King Henry the Sixt.
The Life and Death of Richard the Third
The Life of King Henry the Eight.

                            TRAGEDIES.

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.
Titus Andronicus.
Romeo and Juliet.
Timon of Athens.
The Life and death of Julius Caesar.
The Tragedy of Macbeth.
The Tragedy of Hamlet.
King Lear.
Othello, the Moore of Venice.
Anthony and Cleopater.
Cymbeline King of Britaine.

                   To the memory of my beloved,
                            The Author
           MR. W I L L I A   M S H A K E S P E A R E :
                              A N D
                      what he hath left us.

To draw no envy (Shakespeare) on thy name,
Am I thus ample to thy Booke, and Fame;
While I confesse thy writings to be such,
As neither Man, nor Muse, can praise too much.
'Tis true, and all men's suffrage.  But these wayes
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;
For seeliest Ignorance on these may light,
Which, when it sounds at best, but eccho's right;
Or blinde Affection, which doth ne're advance
The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;
Or crafty Malice, might pretend this praise,
And thine to ruine, where it seem'd to raise.
These are, as some infamous Baud, or Whore,
Should praise a Matron.  What could hurt her more?
But thou art proofe against them, and indeed
Above th' ill fortune of them, or the need.
I, therefore will begin.  Soule of the Age !
The applause ! delight ! the wonder of our Stage !
My Shakespeare, rise; I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lye
A little further, to make thee a roome :
Thou art a Moniment, without a tombe,
And art alive still, while thy Booke doth live,
And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
That I not mixe thee so, my braine excuses ;
I meane with great, but disproportion'd Muses :
For, if I thought my judgement were of yeeres,
I should commit thee surely with thy peeres,
And tell, how farre thou dist our Lily out-shine,
Or sporting Kid or Marlowes mighty line.
And though thou hadst small Latine, and lesse Greeke,
From thence to honour thee, I would not seeke
For names; but call forth thund'ring  ’schilus,
Euripides, and Sophocles to vs,
Paccuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead,
To life againe, to heare thy Buskin tread,
And shake a stage : Or, when thy sockes were on,
Leave thee alone, for the comparison
Of all, that insolent Greece, or haughtie Rome
Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.
Triumph, my Britaine, thou hast one to showe,
To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.
He was not of an age, but for all time !
And all the Muses still were in their prime,
When like Apollo he came forth to warme
Our eares, or like a Mercury to charme !
Nature her selfe was proud of his designes,
And joy'd to weare the dressing of his lines !
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
As, since, she will vouchsafe no other Wit.
The merry Greeke, tart Aristophanes,
Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not
please;But antiquated, and deserted lye
As they were not of Natures family.
Yet must I not give Nature all: Thy Art,
My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part;
For though the Poets matter, Nature be,
His Art doth give the fashion.  And, that he,
Who casts to write a living line, must sweat,
(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
Upon the Muses anvile : turne the same,
(And himselfe with it) that he thinkes to frame;
Or for the lawrell, he may gaine a scorne,
For a good Poet's made, as well as borne.
And such wert thou.  Looke how the fathers face
Lives in his issue, even so, the race
Of Shakespeares minde, and manners brightly shines
In his well toned, and true-filed lines :
In each of which, he seemes to shake a Lance,
As brandish't at the eyes of Ignorance.
Sweet swan of Avon!  what a fight it were
To see thee in our waters yet appeare,
And make those flights upon the bankes of Thames,
That so did take Eliza, and our James !
But stay, I see thee in the Hemisphere
Advanc'd, and made a Constellation there !
Shine forth, thou Starre of Poets, and with rage,
Or influence, chide, or cheere the drooping Stage;
Which, since thy flight fro' hence, hath mourn'd like night,
And despaires day, but for thy Volumes light.

 B E N:  J O N S O N.


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

Those hands, which you so clapt, go now, and wring
You Britaines brave; for done are Shakespeares dayes :
His dayes are done, that made the dainty Playes,
Which made the Globe of heav'n and earth to ring.
Dry'de is that veine, dry'd is the Thespian Spring,
Turn'd all to teares, and Phoebus clouds his rayes :
That corp's, that coffin now besticke those bayes,
Which crown'd him Poet first, then Poets King.
If Tragedies might any Prologue have,
All those he made, would scarse make a one to this :
Where Fame, now that he gone is to the grave
(Deaths publique tyring-house) the Nuncius is,
For though his line of life went soone about,
The life yet of his lines shall never out.

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

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

Shake-speare, at length thy pious fellowes give
The world thy Workes : thy Workes, by which, out-live
Thy Tombe, thy name must when that stone is rent,
And Time dissolves thy Stratford Moniment,
Here we alive shall view thee still.  This Booke,
When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke
Fresh to all Ages: when Posteritie
Shall loath what's new, thinke all is prodegie
That is not Shake-speares; ev'ry Line, each Verse
Here shall revive, redeeme thee from thy Herse.
Nor Fire, nor cankring Age, as Naso said,
Of his, thy wit-fraught Booke shall once invade.
Nor shall I e're beleeve, or thinke thee dead.
(Though mist) untill our bankrout Stage be sped
(Imposible) with some new straine t'out-do
Passions of Juliet, and her Romeo ;
Or till I heare a Scene more nobly take,
Then when thy half-Sword parlying Romans spake.
Till these, till any of thy Volumes rest
Shall with more fire, more feeling be exprest,
Be sure, our Shake-speare, thou canst never dye,
But crown'd with Lawrell, live eternally.

 L.   Digges.

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

WEE wondred (Shake-speare) that thou went'st so soone
From the Worlds-Stage, to the Graves-Tyring-roome.
Wee thought thee dead, but this thy printed worth,
Tels thy Spectators, that thou went'st but forth
To enter with applause.  An Actors Art,
Can dye, and live, to acte a second part.
That's but an Exit of Mortalitie;
This, a Re-entrance to a Plaudite.

 J.   M.

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

     The Names of the Principall Actorsin all these Playes.

William Shakespeare.
Richard Burbadge.
John Hemmings.
Augustine Phillips.
William Kempt.
Thomas Poope.
George Bryan.
Henry Condell.
William Slye.
Richard Cowly.
John Lowine.
Samuell Crosse.
Alexander Cooke.
Samuel Gilburne.
Robert Armin.
William Ostler.
Nathan Field.
John Underwood.
Nicholas Tooley.
William Ecclestone.
Joseph Taylor.
Robert Benfield.
Robert Goughe.
Richard Robinson.
John Shancke.
John Rice.

The Tempest

Actus primus, Scena prima.

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

  Master. Bote-swaine.

  Botes. Heere Master: What cheere?

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

Enter.

Enter Mariners.

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

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

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

  Botes. I pray now keepe below.

  Anth. Where is the Master, Boson?

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

  Gonz. Nay, good be patient.

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

  Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboord.

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

Enter.

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

Enter.

Enter Boteswaine

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

A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio & Gonzalo.

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

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

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

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

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

Enter Mariners wet.

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

  Botes. What must our mouths be cold?

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

   Sebas. I'am out of patience

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

   Gonz. Hee'l be hang'd yet,
Though euery drop of water sweare against it,
And gape at widst to glut him.

A confused noyse within.

Mercy on vs.
We split, we split, Farewell my wife, and children,
Farewell brother: we split, we split, we split

   Anth. Let's all sinke with' King

  Seb. Let's take leaue of him.

Enter.

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

Enter.


Scena Secunda.


Enter Prospero and Miranda.

  Mira. If by your Art (my deerest father) you haue
Put the wild waters in this Rore; alay them:
The skye it seemes would powre down stinking pitch,
But that the Sea, mounting to th' welkins cheeke,
Dashes the fire out. Oh! I haue suffered
With those that I saw suffer: A braue vessell
(Who had no doubt some noble creature in her)
Dash'd all to peeces: O the cry did knocke
Against my very heart: poore soules, they perish'd.
Had I byn any God of power, I would
Haue suncke the Sea within the Earth, or ere
It should the good Ship so haue swallow'd, and
The fraughting Soules within her

   Pros. Be collected,
No more amazement: Tell your pitteous heart
there's no harme done

   Mira. O woe, the day

   Pros. No harme:
I haue done nothing, but in care of thee
(Of thee my deere one; thee my daughter) who
Art ignorant of what thou art. naught knowing
Of whence I am: nor that I am more better
Then Prospero, Master of a full poore cell,
And thy no greater Father

   Mira. More to know
Did neuer medle with my thoughts

   Pros. 'Tis time
I should informe thee farther: Lend thy hand
And plucke my Magick garment from me: So,
Lye there my Art: wipe thou thine eyes, haue comfort,
The direfull spectacle of the wracke which touch'd
The very vertue of compassion in thee:
I haue with such prouision in mine Art
So safely ordered, that there is no soule
No not so much perdition as an hayre
Betid to any creature in the vessell
Which thou heardst cry, which thou saw'st sinke: Sit downe,
For thou must now know farther

   Mira. You haue often
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt
And left me to a bootelesse Inquisition,
Concluding, stay: not yet

   Pros. The howr's now come
The very minute byds thee ope thine eare,
Obey, and be attentiue. Canst thou remember
A time before we came vnto this Cell?
I doe not thinke thou canst, for then thou was't not
Out three yeeres old

   Mira. Certainely Sir, I can

   Pros. By what? by any other house, or person?
Of any thing the Image, tell me, that
Hath kept with thy remembrance

   Mira. 'Tis farre off:
And rather like a dreame, then an assurance
That my remembrance warrants: Had I not
Fowre, or fiue women once, that tended me?

  Pros. Thou hadst; and more Miranda: But how is it
That this liues in thy minde? What seest thou els
In the dark-backward and Abisme of Time?
Yf thou remembrest ought ere thou cam'st here,
How thou cam'st here thou maist

   Mira. But that I doe not

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

  Mira. Sir, are not you my Father?

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

   Mira. O the heauens,
What fowle play had we, that we came from thence?
Or blessed was't we did?

  Pros. Both, both my Girle.
By fowle-play (as thou saist) were we heau'd thence,
But blessedly holpe hither

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

  Pros. My brother and thy vncle, call'd Anthonio:
I pray thee marke me, that a brother should
Be so perfidious: he, whom next thy selfe
Of all the world I lou'd, and to him put
The mannage of my state, as at that time
Through all the signories it was the first,
And Prospero, the prime Duke, being so reputed
In dignity; and for the liberall Artes,
Without a paralell; those being all my studie,
The Gouernment I cast vpon my brother,
And to my State grew stranger, being transported
And rapt in secret studies, thy false vncle
(Do'st thou attend me?)

  Mira. Sir, most heedefully

   Pros. Being once perfected how to graunt suites,
how to deny them: who t' aduance, and who
To trash for ouer-topping; new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em,
Or els new form'd 'em; hauing both the key,
Of Officer, and office, set all hearts i'th state
To what tune pleas'd his eare, that now he was
The Iuy which had hid my princely Trunck,
And suckt my verdure out on't: Thou attend'st not?

  Mira. O good Sir, I doe

Pros. I pray thee marke me:
I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
To closenes, and the bettering of my mind
with that, which but by being so retir'd
Ore-priz'd all popular rate: in my false brother
Awak'd an euill nature, and my trust
Like a good parent, did beget of him
A falsehood in it's contrarie, as great
As my trust was, which had indeede no limit,
A confidence sans bound. He being thus Lorded,
Not onely with what my reuenew yeelded,
But what my power might els exact. Like one
Who hauing into truth, by telling of it,
Made such a synner of his memorie
To credite his owne lie, he did beleeue
He was indeed the Duke, out o'th' Substitution
And executing th' outward face of Roialtie
With all prerogatiue: hence his Ambition growing:
Do'st thou heare ?

  Mira. Your tale, Sir, would cure deafenesse

   Pros. To haue no Schreene between this part he plaid,
And him he plaid it for, he needes will be
Absolute Millaine, Me (poore man) my Librarie
Was Dukedome large enough: of temporall roalties
He thinks me now incapable. Confederates
(so drie he was for Sway) with King of Naples
To giue him Annuall tribute, doe him homage
Subiect his Coronet, to his Crowne and bend
The Dukedom yet vnbow'd (alas poore Millaine)
To most ignoble stooping

   Mira. Oh the heauens:

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

   Mira. I should sinne
To thinke but Noblie of my Grand-mother,
Good wombes haue borne bad sonnes

   Pro. Now the Condition.
This King of Naples being an Enemy
To me inueterate, hearkens my Brothers suit,
Which was, That he in lieu o'th' premises,
Of homage, and I know not how much Tribute,
Should presently extirpate me and mine
Out of the Dukedome, and confer faire Millaine
With all the Honors, on my brother: Whereon
A treacherous Armie leuied, one mid-night
Fated to th' purpose, did Anthonio open
The gates of Millaine, and ith' dead of darkenesse
The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence
Me, and thy crying selfe

   Mir. Alack, for pitty:
I not remembring how I cride out then
Will cry it ore againe: it is a hint
That wrings mine eyes too't

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

   Mir. Wherefore did they not
That howre destroy vs?

  Pro. Well demanded, wench:
My Tale prouokes that question: Deare, they durst not,
So deare the loue my people bore me: nor set
A marke so bloudy on the businesse; but
With colours fairer, painted their foule ends.
In few, they hurried vs aboord a Barke,
Bore vs some Leagues to Sea, where they prepared
A rotten carkasse of a Butt, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sayle, nor mast, the very rats
Instinctiuely haue quit it: There they hoyst vs
To cry to th' Sea, that roard to vs; to sigh
To th' windes, whose pitty sighing backe againe
Did vs but louing wrong

   Mir. Alack, what trouble
Was I then to you?

   Pro. O, a Cherubin
Thou was't that did preserue me; Thou didst smile,
Infused with a fortitude from heauen,
When I haue deck'd the sea with drops full salt,
Vnder my burthen groan'd, which rais'd in me
An vndergoing stomacke, to beare vp
Against what should ensue

   Mir. How came we a shore?

   Pro. By prouidence diuine,
Some food, we had, and some fresh water, that
A noble Neopolitan Gonzalo
Out of his Charity, (who being then appointed
Master of this designe) did giue vs, with
Rich garments, linnens, stuffs, and necessaries
Which since haue steeded much, so of his gentlenesse
Knowing I lou'd my bookes, he furnishd me
From mine owne Library, with volumes, that
I prize aboue my Dukedome

   Mir. Would I might
But euer see that man

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

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

   Pro. Know thus far forth,
By accident most strange, bountifull Fortune
(Now my deere Lady) hath mine enemies
Brought to this shore: And by my prescience
I finde my Zenith doth depend vpon
A most auspitious starre, whose influence
If now I court not, but omit; my fortunes
Will euer after droope: Heare cease more questions,
Thou art inclinde to sleepe: 'tis a good dulnesse,
And giue it way: I know thou canst not chuse:
Come away, Seruant, come; I am ready now,
Approach my Ariel. Come.

Enter Ariel.

  Ari. All haile, great Master, graue Sir, haile: I come
To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,
To swim, to diue into the fire: to ride
On the curld clowds: to thy strong bidding, taske
Ariel, and all his Qualitie

   Pro. Hast thou, Spirit,
Performd to point, the Tempest that I bad thee

   Ar. To euery Article.
I boorded the Kings ship: now on the Beake,
Now in the Waste, the Decke, in euery Cabyn,
I flam'd amazement, sometime I'ld diuide
And burne in many places; on the Top-mast,
The Yards and Bore-spritt, would I flame distinctly,
Then meete, and ioyne. Ioues Lightning, the precursers
O'th dreadfull Thunder-claps more momentarie
And sight out-running were not; the fire, and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seeme to besiege, and make his bold waues tremble,
Yea, his dread Trident shake

   Pro. My braue Spirit,
Who was so firme, so constant, that this coyle
Would not infect his reason?

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

   Pro. Why that's my spirit:
But was not this nye shore?

   Ar. Close by, my Master

   Pro. But are they (Ariell) safe?

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

   Pro. Of the Kings ship,
The Marriners, say how thou hast disposd,
And all the rest o'th' Fleete?

  Ar. Safely in harbour
Is the Kings shippe, in the deepe Nooke, where once
Thou calldst me vp at midnight to fetch dewe
From the still-vext Bermoothes, there she's hid;
The Marriners all vnder hatches stowed,
Who, with a Charme ioynd to their suffred labour
I haue left asleep: and for the rest o'th' Fleet
(Which I dispers'd) they all haue met againe,
And are vpon the Mediterranian Flote
Bound sadly home for Naples,
Supposing that they saw the Kings ship wrackt,
And his great person perish

    Pro. Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more worke:
What is the time o'th' day?

    Ar. Past the mid season

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

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

    Pro. How now? moodie?
What is't thou canst demand?

   Ar. My Libertie

   Pro. Before the time be out? no more:

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

   Pro. Do'st thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?

   Ar. No

   Pro. Thou do'st: & thinkst it much to tread y Ooze
Of the salt deepe;
To run vpon the sharpe winde of the North,
To doe me businesse in the veines o'th' earth
When it is bak'd with frost

   Ar. I doe not Sir

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

   Ar. No Sir

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

   Ar. Sir, in Argier

   Pro. Oh, was she so: I must
Once in a moneth recount what thou hast bin,
Which thou forgetst. This damn'd Witch Sycorax
For mischiefes manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter humane hearing, from Argier
Thou know'st was banish'd: for one thing she did
They wold not take her life: Is not this true?

   Ar. I, Sir

   Pro. This blew ey'd hag, was hither brought with child,
And here was left by th' Saylors; thou my slaue,
As thou reportst thy selfe, was then her seruant,
And for thou wast a Spirit too delicate
To act her earthy, and abhord commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee
By helpe of her more potent Ministers,
And in her most vnmittigable rage,
Into a clouen Pyne, within which rift
Imprison'd, thou didst painefully remaine
A dozen yeeres: within which space she di'd,
And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groanes
As fast as Mill-wheeles strike: Then was this Island
(Saue for the Son, that he did littour heere,
A frekelld whelpe, hag-borne) not honour'd with
A humane shape

   Ar. Yes: Caliban her sonne

   Pro. Dull thing, I say so: he, that Caliban
Whom now I keepe in seruice, thou best know'st
What torment I did finde thee in; thy grones
Did make wolues howle, and penetrate the breasts
Of euer-angry Beares; it was a torment
To lay vpon the damn'd, which Sycorax
Could not againe vndoe: it was mine Art,
When I arriu'd, and heard thee, that made gape
The Pyne, and let thee out

   Ar. I thanke thee Master

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

   Ar. Pardon, Master,
I will be correspondent to command
And doe my spryting, gently

   Pro. Doe so: and after two daies
I will discharge thee

   Ar. That's my noble Master:
What shall I doe? say what? what shall I doe?

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

Enter.

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

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

   Pro. Shake it off: Come on,
Wee'll visit Caliban, my slaue, who neuer
Yeelds vs kinde answere

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

   Pro. But as 'tis
We cannot misse him: he do's make our fire,
Fetch in our wood, and serues in Offices
That profit vs: What hoa: slaue: Caliban:
Thou Earth, thou: speake

   Cal. within. There's wood enough within

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

Enter Ariel like a water Nymph.

Fine apparision: my queint Ariel,
Hearke in thine eare

   Ar. My Lord, it shall be done.

Enter.

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


Enter Caliban.

  Cal. As wicked dewe, as ere my mother brush'd
With Rauens feather from vnwholesome Fen
Drop on you both: A Southwest blow on yee,
And blister you all ore

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

   Cal. I must eat my dinner:
This Island's mine by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou tak'st from me: when thou cam'st first
Thou stroakst me, & made much of me: wouldst giue me
Water with berries in't: and teach me how
To name the bigger Light, and how the lesse
That burne by day, and night: and then I lou'd thee
And shew'd thee all the qualities o'th' Isle,
The fresh Springs, Brine-pits; barren place and fertill,
Curs'd be I that did so: All the Charmes
Of Sycorax: Toades, Beetles, Batts light on you:
For I am all the Subiects that you haue,
Which first was min owne King: and here you sty-me
In this hard Rocke, whiles you doe keepe from me
The rest o'th' Island

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

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

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

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

   Pros. Hag-seed, hence:
Fetch vs in Fewell, and be quicke thou'rt best
To answer other businesse: shrug'st thou (Malice)
If thou neglectst, or dost vnwillingly
What I command, Ile racke thee with old Crampes,
Fill all thy bones with Aches, make thee rore,
That beasts shall tremble at thy dyn

   Cal. No, 'pray thee.
I must obey, his Art is of such pow'r,
It would controll my Dams god Setebos,
And make a vassaile of him

   Pro. So slaue, hence.

Exit Cal.

Enter Ferdinand & Ariel, inuisible playing & singing.

  Ariel Song. Come vnto these yellow sands, and then
take hands:
Curtsied when you haue, and kist the wilde waues whist:
Foote it featly heere, and there, and sweete Sprights beare
the burthen.

Burthen dispersedly.

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

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

   Fer. Where shold this Musick be? I'th aire, or th' earth?
It sounds no more: and sure it waytes vpon
Some God o'th' Iland, sitting on a banke,
Weeping againe the King my Fathers wracke.
This Musicke crept by me vpon the waters,
Allaying both their fury, and my passion
With it's sweet ayre: thence I haue follow'd it
(Or it hath drawne me rather) but 'tis gone.
No, it begins againe

   Ariell Song. Full fadom fiue thy Father lies,
Of his bones are Corrall made:
Those are pearles that were his eies,
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a Sea-change
Into something rich, & strange:
Sea-Nimphs hourly ring his knell.

Burthen: ding dong.
Harke now I heare them, ding-dong bell

   Fer. The Ditty do's remember my drown'd father,
This is no mortall busines, nor no sound
That the earth owes: I heare it now aboue me

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

   Mira. What is't a Spirit?
Lord, how it lookes about: Beleeue me sir,
It carries a braue forme. But 'tis a spirit

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

   Mir. I might call him
A thing diuine, for nothing naturall
I euer saw so Noble

   Pro. It goes on I see
As my soule prompts it: Spirit, fine spirit, Ile free thee
Within two dayes for this

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

  Mir. No wonder Sir,
But certainly a Mayd

   Fer. My Language? Heauens:
I am the best of them that speake this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken

   Pro. How? the best?
What wer't thou if the King of Naples heard thee?

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

   Mir. Alacke, for mercy

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

   Pro. The Duke of Millaine
And his more brauer daughter, could controll thee
If now 'twere fit to do't: At the first sight
They haue chang'd eyes: Delicate Ariel,
Ile set thee free for this. A word good Sir,
I feare you haue done your selfe some wrong: A word

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

   Fer. O, if a Virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, Ile make you
The Queene of Naples

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

   Fer. No, as I am a man

   Mir. Ther's nothing ill, can dwell in such a Temple,
If the ill-spirit haue so fayre a house,
Good things will striue to dwell with't

   Pro. Follow me

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

   Fer. No,
I will resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy ha's more pow'r.

He drawes, and is charmed from mouing.

  Mira. O deere Father,
Make not too rash a triall of him, for
Hee's gentle, and not fearfull

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

   Mira. Beseech you Father

   Pros. Hence: hang not on my garments

   Mira. Sir haue pity,
Ile be his surety

   Pros. Silence: One word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: What,
An aduocate for an Impostor? Hush:
Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,
(Hauing seene but him and Caliban:) Foolish wench,
To th' most of men, this is a Caliban,
And they to him are Angels

   Mira. My affections
Are then most humble: I haue no ambition
To see a goodlier man

   Pros. Come on, obey:
Thy Nerues are in their infancy againe.
And haue no vigour in them

   Fer. So they are:
My spirits, as in a dreame, are all bound vp:
My Fathers losse, the weaknesse which I feele,
The wracke of all my friends, nor this mans threats,
To whom I am subdude, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this Mayd: all corners else o'th' Earth
Let liberty make vse of: space enough
Haue I in such a prison

   Pros. It workes: Come on.
Thou hast done well, fine Ariell: follow me,
Harke what thou else shalt do mee

   Mira. Be of comfort,
My Fathers of a better nature (Sir)
Then he appeares by speech: this is vnwonted
Which now came from him

   Pros. Thou shalt be as free
As mountaine windes; but then exactly do
All points of my command

   Ariell. To th' syllable

   Pros. Come follow: speake not for him.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

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

  Gonz. Beseech you Sir, be merry; you haue cause,
(So haue we all) of ioy; for our escape
Is much beyond our losse; our hint of woe
Is common, euery day, some Saylors wife,
The Masters of some Merchant, and the Merchant
Haue iust our Theame of woe: But for the miracle,
(I meane our preseruation) few in millions
Can speake like vs: then wisely (good Sir) weigh
Our sorrow, with our comfort

   Alons. Prethee peace

   Seb. He receiues comfort like cold porredge

   Ant. The Visitor will not giue him ore so

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

   Gon. Sir

   Seb. One: Tell

   Gon. When euery greefe is entertaind,
That's offer'd comes to th' entertainer

   Seb. A dollor

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

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

   Gon. Therefore my Lord

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

   Alon. I pre-thee spare

   Gon. Well, I haue done: But yet

   Seb. He will be talking

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

 Seb. The old Cocke

   Ant. The Cockrell

   Seb. Done: The wager?

   Ant. A Laughter

   Seb. A match

   Adr. Though this Island seeme to be desert

   Seb. Ha, ha, ha

   Ant. So: you'r paid

   Adr. Vninhabitable, and almost inaccessible

   Seb. Yet

  Adr. Yet

  Ant. He could not misse't

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

   Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench

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

   Adr. The ayre breathes vpon vs here most sweetly

   Seb. As if it had Lungs, and rotten ones

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

   Gon. Heere is euery thing aduantageous to life

   Ant. True, saue meanes to liue

   Seb. Of that there's none, or little

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

  Ant. The ground indeed is tawny

   Seb. With an eye of greene in't

   Ant. He misses not much

   Seb. No: he doth but mistake the truth totally

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

   Seb. As many voucht rarieties are

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

   Ant. If but one of his pockets could speake, would
it not say he lyes?
  Seb. I, or very falsely pocket vp his report

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

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

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

   Gon. Not since widdow Dido's time

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

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

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

   Gon. This Tunis Sir was Carthage

   Adri. Carthage?

   Gon. I assure you Carthage

   Ant. His word is more then the miraculous Harpe

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

   Ant. What impossible matter wil he make easy next?

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

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

   Gon. I

   Ant. Why in good time

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

   Ant. And the rarest that ere came there

   Seb. Bate (I beseech you) widdow Dido

   Ant. O Widdow Dido? I, Widdow Dido

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

   Ant. That sort was well fish'd for

   Gon. When I wore it at your daughters marriage

   Alon. You cram these words into mine eares, against
the stomacke of my sense: would I had neuer
Married my daughter there: For comming thence
My sonne is lost, and (in my rate) she too,
Who is so farre from Italy remoued,
I ne're againe shall see her: O thou mine heire
Of Naples and of Millaine, what strange fish
Hath made his meale on thee?

  Fran. Sir he may liue,
I saw him beate the surges vnder him,
And ride vpon their backes; he trod the water
Whose enmity he flung aside: and brested
The surge most swolne that met him: his bold head
'Boue the contentious waues he kept, and oared
Himselfe with his good armes in lusty stroke
To th' shore; that ore his waue-worne basis bowed
As stooping to releeue him: I not doubt
He came aliue to Land

   Alon. No, no, hee's gone

   Seb. Sir you may thank your selfe for this great losse,
That would not blesse our Europe with your daughter,
But rather loose her to an Affrican,
Where she at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the greefe on't

   Alon. Pre-thee peace

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

   Alon. So is the deer'st oth' losse

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

   Seb. Very well

   Ant. And most Chirurgeonly

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

   Seb. Fowle weather?

  Ant. Very foule

   Gon. Had I plantation of this Isle my Lord

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

   Seb. Or dockes, or Mallowes

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

  Seb. Scape being drunke, for want of Wine

   Gon. I'th' Commonwealth I would (by contraries)
Execute all things: For no kinde of Trafficke
Would I admit: No name of Magistrate:
Letters should not be knowne: Riches, pouerty,
And vse of seruice, none: Contract, Succession,
Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none:
No vse of Mettall, Corne, or Wine, or Oyle:
No occupation, all men idle, all:
And Women too, but innocent and pure:
No Soueraignty

   Seb. Yet he would be King on't

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

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

   Seb. No marrying 'mong his subiects?

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

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

   Seb. 'Saue his Maiesty

   Ant. Long liue Gonzalo

   Gon. And do you marke me, Sir?

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

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

   Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at

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

   Ant. What a blow was there giuen?

  Seb. And it had not falne flat-long

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

Enter Ariell playing solemne Musicke.

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

   Ant. Nay good my Lord, be not angry

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

   Ant. Go sleepe, and heare vs

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

   Seb. Please you Sir,
Do not omit the heauy offer of it:
It sildome visits sorrow, when it doth, it is a Comforter

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

   Alon. Thanke you: Wondrous heauy

   Seb. What a strange drowsines possesses them?

  Ant. It is the quality o'th' Clymate

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

   Ant. Nor I, my spirits are nimble:
They fell together all, as by consent
They dropt, as by a Thunder-stroke: what might
Worthy Sebastian? O, what might? no more:
And yet, me thinkes I see it in thy face,
What thou should'st be: th' occasion speaks thee, and
My strong imagination see's a Crowne
Dropping vpon thy head

   Seb. What? art thou waking?

  Ant. Do you not heare me speake?

  Seb. I do, and surely
It is a sleepy Language; and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleepe: What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleepe
With eyes wide open: standing, speaking, mouing:
And yet so fast asleepe

   Ant. Noble Sebastian,
Thou let'st thy fortune sleepe: die rather: wink'st
Whiles thou art waking

   Seb. Thou do'st snore distinctly,
There's meaning in thy snores

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

   Seb. Well: I am standing water

   Ant. Ile teach you how to flow

   Seb. Do so: to ebbe
Hereditary Sloth instructs me

   Ant. O!
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish
Whiles thus you mocke it: how in stripping it
You more inuest it: ebbing men, indeed
(Most often) do so neere the bottome run
By their owne feare, or sloth

   Seb. 'Pre-thee say on,
The setting of thine eye, and cheeke proclaime
A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,
Which throwes thee much to yeeld

   Ant. Thus Sir:
Although this Lord of weake remembrance; this
Who shall be of as little memory
When he is earth'd, hath here almost perswaded
(For hee's a Spirit of perswasion, onely
Professes to perswade) the King his sonne's aliue,
'Tis as impossible that hee's vndrown'd,
As he that sleepes heere, swims

   Seb. I haue no hope
That hee's vndrown'd

   Ant. O, out of that no hope,
What great hope haue you? No hope that way, Is
Another way so high a hope, that euen
Ambition cannot pierce a winke beyond
But doubt discouery there. Will you grant with me
That Ferdinand is drown'd

   Seb. He's gone

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

   Seb. Claribell

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

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

   Ant. A space, whose eu'ry cubit
Seemes to cry out, how shall that Claribell
Measure vs backe to Naples? keepe in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake. Say, this were death
That now hath seiz'd them, why they were no worse
Then now they are: There be that can rule Naples
As well as he that sleepes: Lords, that can prate
As amply, and vnnecessarily
As this Gonzallo: I my selfe could make
A Chough of as deepe chat: O, that you bore
The minde that I do; what a sleepe were this
For your aduancement? Do you vnderstand me?

   Seb. Me thinkes I do

   Ant. And how do's your content
Tender your owne good fortune?

  Seb. I remember
You did supplant your Brother Prospero

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

   Seb. But for your conscience

   Ant. I Sir: where lies that? If 'twere a kybe
'Twould put me to my slipper: But I feele not
This Deity in my bosome: 'Twentie consciences
That stand 'twixt me, and Millaine, candied be they,
And melt ere they mollest: Heere lies your Brother,
No better then the earth he lies vpon,
If he were that which now hee's like (that's dead)
Whom I with this obedient steele (three inches of it)
Can lay to bed for euer: whiles you doing thus,
To the perpetuall winke for aye might put
This ancient morsell: this Sir Prudence, who
Should not vpbraid our course: for all the rest
They'l take suggestion, as a Cat laps milke,
They'l tell the clocke, to any businesse that
We say befits the houre

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

   Ant. Draw together:
And when I reare my hand, do you the like
To fall it on Gonzalo

   Seb. O, but one word.

Enter Ariell with Musicke and Song.

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

Sings in Gonzaloes eare.

While you here do snoaring lie,
Open-ey'd Conspiracie
His time doth take:
If of Life you keepe a care,
Shake off slumber and beware.
Awake, awake

   Ant. Then let vs both be sodaine

   Gon. Now, good Angels preserue the King

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

  Gon. What's the matter?

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

   Alo. I heard nothing

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

   Alo. Heard you this Gonzalo?

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

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

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

   Alo. Lead away

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

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

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

  Cal. All the infections that the Sunne suckes vp
From Bogs, Fens, Flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
By ynch-meale a disease: his Spirits heare me,
And yet I needes must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with Vrchyn-shewes, pitch me i'th mire,
Nor lead me like a fire-brand, in the darke
Out of my way, vnlesse he bid 'em; but
For euery trifle, are they set vpon me,
Sometime like Apes, that moe and chatter at me,
And after bite me: then like Hedg-hogs, which
Lye tumbling in my bare-foote way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I
All wound with Adders, who with clouen tongues
Doe hisse me into madnesse: Lo, now Lo,

Enter  Trinculo.

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

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

Enter Stephano singing..

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

Drinkes.

Sings.

The Master, the Swabber, the Boate-swaine & I;
The Gunner, and his Mate
Lou'd Mall, Meg, and Marrian, and Margerie,
But none of vs car'd for Kate.
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a Sailor goe hang:
She lou'd not the sauour of Tar nor of Pitch,
Yet a Tailor might scratch her where ere she did itch.
Then to Sea Boyes, and let her goe hang.
This is a scuruy tune too:
But here's my comfort.

Drinks.

  Cal. Doe not torment me: oh

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

   Cal. The Spirit torments me: oh

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

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

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

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

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

   Tri. I should know that voyce:
It should be,
But hee is dround; and these are diuels; O defend
me

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

   Tri. Stephano

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   St. Heere: sweare then how thou escap'dst

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

   Ste. Here, kisse the Booke.
Though thou canst swim like a Ducke, thou art made
like a Goose

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

  Ste. The whole But (man) my Cellar is in a rocke
by th' sea-side, where my Wine is hid:
How now Moone-Calfe, how do's thine Ague?

  Cal. Ha'st thou not dropt from heauen?

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

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

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

   Tri. By this good light, this is a very shallow Monster:
I afeard of him? a very weake Monster:
The Man ith' Moone?
A most poore creadulous Monster:
Well drawne Monster, in good sooth

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

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

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

   Ste. Come on then: downe and sweare

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

   Ste. Come, kisse

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

   Cal. I'le shew thee the best Springs: I'le plucke thee
Berries: I'le fish for thee; and get thee wood enough.
A plague vpon the Tyrant that I serue;
I'le beare him no more Stickes, but follow thee, thou
wondrous man

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

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

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

Caliban Sings drunkenly.

Farewell Master; farewell, farewell

   Tri. A howling Monster: a drunken Monster

   Cal. No more dams I'le make for fish,
Nor fetch in firing, at requiring,
Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish,
Ban' ban' Cacalyban
Has a new Master, get a new Man.
Freedome, high-day, high-day freedome, freedome highday,
freedome

   Ste. O braue Monster; lead the way.

Exeunt.


Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.

Enter Ferdinand (bearing a Log.)

  Fer. There be some Sports are painfull; & their labor
Delight in them set off: Some kindes of basenesse
Are nobly vndergon; and most poore matters
Point to rich ends: this my meane Taske
Would be as heauy to me, as odious, but
The Mistris which I serue, quickens what's dead,
And makes my labours, pleasures: O She is
Ten times more gentle, then her Father's crabbed;
And he's compos'd of harshnesse. I must remoue
Some thousands of these Logs, and pile them vp,
Vpon a sore iniunction; my sweet Mistris
Weepes when she sees me worke, & saies, such basenes
Had neuer like Executor: I forget:
But these sweet thoughts, doe euen refresh my labours,
Most busie lest, when I doe it.

Enter Miranda | and Prospero.

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

   Fer. O most deere Mistris
The Sun will set before I shall discharge
What I must striue to do

   Mir. If you'l sit downe
Ile beare your Logges the while: pray giue me that,
Ile carry it to the pile

   Fer. No precious Creature,
I had rather cracke my sinewes, breake my backe,
Then you should such dishonor vndergoe,
While I sit lazy by

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

   Pro. Poore worme thou art infected,
This visitation shewes it

   Mir. You looke wearily

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

  Mir. Miranda, O my Father,
I haue broke your hest to say so

   Fer. Admir'd Miranda,
Indeede the top of Admiration, worth
What's deerest to the world: full many a Lady
I haue ey'd with best regard, and many a time
Th' harmony of their tongues, hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent eare: for seuerall vertues
Haue I lik'd seuerall women, neuer any
With so full soule, but some defect in her
Did quarrell with the noblest grace she ow'd,
And put it to the foile. But you, O you,
So perfect, and so peerlesse, are created
Of euerie Creatures best

   Mir. I do not know
One of my sexe; no womans face remember,
Saue from my glasse, mine owne: Nor haue I seene
More that I may call men, then you good friend,
And my deere Father: how features are abroad
I am skillesse of; but by my modestie
(The iewell in my dower) I would not wish
Any Companion in the world but you:
Nor can imagination forme a shape
Besides your selfe, to like of: but I prattle
Something too wildely, and my Fathers precepts
I therein do forget

   Fer. I am, in my condition
A Prince (Miranda) I do thinke a King
(I would not so) and would no more endure
This wodden slauerie, then to suffer
The flesh-flie blow my mouth: heare my soule speake.
The verie instant that I saw you, did
My heart flie to your seruice, there resides
To make me slaue to it, and for your sake
Am I this patient Logge-man

   Mir. Do you loue me?

  Fer. O heauen; O earth, beare witnes to this sound,
And crowne what I professe with kinde euent
If I speake true: if hollowly, inuert
What best is boaded me, to mischiefe: I,
Beyond all limit of what else i'th world
Do loue, prize, honor you

   Mir. I am a foole
To weepe at what I am glad of

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

   Fer. Wherefore weepe you?

  Mir. At mine vnworthinesse, that dare not offer
What I desire to giue; and much lesse take
What I shall die to want: But this is trifling,
And all the more it seekes to hide it selfe,
The bigger bulke it shewes. Hence bashfull cunning,
And prompt me plaine and holy innocence.
I am your wife, if you will marrie me;
If not, Ile die your maid: to be your fellow
You may denie me, but Ile be your seruant
Whether you will or no

   Fer. My Mistris (deerest)
And I thus humble euer

   Mir. My husband then?

  Fer. I, with a heart as willing
As bondage ere of freedome: heere's my hand

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

   Fer. A thousand, thousand.

Exeunt.

  Pro. So glad of this as they I cannot be,
Who are surpriz'd with all; but my reioycing
At nothing can be more: Ile to my booke,
For yet ere supper time, must I performe
Much businesse appertaining.

Enter.


Scoena Secunda.

Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Ste. Weel not run Monsieur Monster

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enter Ariell inuisible.

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

   Ariell. Thou lyest

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

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

   Trin. Why, I said nothing

   Ste. Mum then, and no more: proceed

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

   Ste. That's most certaine

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

   Ste. How now shall this be compast?
Canst thou bring me to the party?

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

   Ariell. Thou liest, thou canst not

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

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

   Trin. Why, what did I? I did nothing:
Ile go farther off

   Ste. Didst thou not say he lyed?
  Ariell. Thou liest

   Ste. Do I so? Take thou that,
As you like this, giue me the lye another time

   Trin. I did not giue the lie: Out o'your wittes, and
hearing too?
A pox o'your bottle, this can Sacke and drinking doo:
A murren on your Monster, and the diuell take your
fingers

   Cal. Ha, ha, ha

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

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

   Ste. Stand farther: Come proceede

   Cal. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custome with him
I'th afternoone to sleepe: there thou maist braine him,
Hauing first seiz'd his bookes: Or with a logge
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember
First to possesse his Bookes; for without them
Hee's but a Sot, as I am; nor hath not
One Spirit to command: they all do hate him
As rootedly as I. Burne but his Bookes,
He ha's braue Vtensils (for so he calles them)
Which when he ha's a house, hee'l decke withall.
And that most deeply to consider, is
The beautie of his daughter: he himselfe
Cals her a non-pareill: I neuer saw a woman
But onely Sycorax my Dam, and she;
But she as farre surpasseth Sycorax,
As great'st do's least

   Ste. Is it so braue a Lasse?

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

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

  Trin. Excellent

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

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

  Ste. I on mine honour

   Ariell. This will I tell my Master

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

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

Sings.

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

   Cal. That's not the tune.

Ariell plaies the tune on a Tabor and Pipe.

  Ste. What is this same?

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

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

   Trin. O forgiue me my sinnes

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

   Cal. Art thou affeard?

  Ste. No Monster, not I

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

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

   Cal. When Prospero is destroy'd

   Ste. That shall be by and by:
I remember the storie

   Trin. The sound is going away,
Lets follow it, and after do our worke

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

   Trin. Wilt come?
Ile follow Stephano.

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

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

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

   Al. Old Lord, I cannot blame thee,
Who, am my selfe attach'd with wearinesse
To th' dulling of my spirits: Sit downe, and rest:
Euen here I will put off my hope, and keepe it
No longer for my Flatterer: he is droun'd
Whom thus we stray to finde, and the Sea mocks
Our frustrate search on land: well, let him goe

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

   Seb. The next aduantage will we take throughly

   Ant. Let it be to night,
For now they are oppress'd with trauaile, they
Will not, nor cannot vse such vigilance
As when they are fresh.

Solemne and strange Musicke: and Prosper on the top (inuisible:)
Enter seuerall strange shapes, bringing in a Banket; and dance
about it with
gentle actions of salutations, and inuiting the King, &c. to eate,
they
depart.

  Seb. I say to night: no more

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

   Gon. Maruellous sweet Musicke

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

  Seb. A liuing Drolerie: now I will beleeue
That there are Vnicornes: that in Arabia
There is one Tree, the Phoenix throne, one Phoenix
At this houre reigning there

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

   Gon. If in Naples
I should report this now, would they beleeue me?
If I should say I saw such Islands;
(For certes, these are people of the Island)
Who though they are of monstrous shape, yet note
Their manners are more gentle, kinde, then of
Our humaine generation you shall finde
Many, nay almost any

   Pro. Honest Lord,
Thou hast said well: for some of you there present;
Are worse then diuels

   Al. I cannot too much muse
Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound expressing
(Although they want the vse of tongue) a kinde
Of excellent dumbe discourse

   Pro. Praise in departing

   Fr. They vanish'd strangely

   Seb. No matter, since
They haue left their Viands behinde; for wee haue stomacks.
Wilt please you taste of what is here?

  Alo. Not I

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

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

Thunder and Lightning. Enter Ariell (like a Harpey) claps his
wings vpon
the Table, and with a quient deuice the Banquet vanishes.

  Ar. You are three men of sinne, whom destiny
That hath to instrument this lower world,
And what is in't: the neuer surfeited Sea,
Hath caus'd to belch vp you: and on this Island,
Where man doth not inhabit, you 'mongst men,
Being most vnfit to liue: I haue made you mad;
And euen with such like valour, men hang, and drowne
Their proper selues: you fooles, I and my fellowes
Are ministers of Fate, the Elements
Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well
Wound the loud windes, or with bemockt-at-Stabs
Kill the still closing waters, as diminish
One dowle that's in my plumbe: My fellow ministers
Are like-invulnerable: if you could hurt,
Your swords are now too massie for your strengths,
And will not be vplifted: But remember
(For that's my businesse to you) that you three
From Millaine did supplant good Prospero,
Expos'd vnto the Sea (which hath requit it)
Him, and his innocent childe: for which foule deed,
The Powres, delaying (not forgetting) haue
Incens'd the Seas, and Shores; yea, all the Creatures
Against your peace: Thee of thy Sonne, Alonso
They haue bereft; and doe pronounce by me
Lingring perdition (worse then any death
Can be at once) shall step, by step attend
You, and your wayes, whose wraths to guard you from,
Which here, in this most desolate Isle, else fals
Vpon your heads, is nothing but hearts-sorrow,
And a cleere life ensuing.

He vanishes in Thunder: then (to soft Musicke.) Enter the shapes
againe,
and daunce (with mockes and mowes) and carrying out the Table.

  Pro. Brauely the figure of this Harpie, hast thou
Perform'd (my Ariell) a grace it had deuouring:
Of my Instruction, hast thou nothing bated
In what thou had'st to say: so with good life,
And obseruation strange, my meaner ministers
Their seuerall kindes haue done: my high charmes work,
And these (mine enemies) are all knit vp
In their distractions: they now are in my powre;
And in these fits, I leaue them, while I visit
Yong Ferdinand (whom they suppose is droun'd)
And his, and mine lou'd darling

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

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

Enter.

  Seb. But one feend at a time,
Ile fight their Legions ore

   Ant. Ile be thy Second.

Exeunt.

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

   Ad. Follow, I pray you.

Exeunt. omnes.


Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda.

  Pro. If I haue too austerely punish'd you,
Your compensation makes amends, for I
Haue giuen you here, a third of mine owne life,
Or that for which I liue: who, once againe
I tender to thy hand: All thy vexations
Were but my trials of thy loue, and thou
Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore heauen
I ratifie this my rich guift: O Ferdinand,
Doe not smile at me, that I boast her of,
For thou shalt finde she will out-strip all praise
And make it halt, behinde her

   Fer. I doe beleeue it
Against an Oracle

   Pro. Then, as my guest, and thine owne acquisition
Worthily purchas'd, take my daughter: But
If thou do'st breake her Virgin-knot, before
All sanctimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy right, be ministred,
No sweet aspersion shall the heauens let fall
To make this contract grow; but barraine hate,
Sower-ey'd disdaine, and discord shall bestrew
The vnion of your bed, with weedes so loathly
That you shall hate it both: Therefore take heede,
As Hymens Lamps shall light you

   Fer. As I hope
For quiet dayes, faire Issue, and long life,
With such loue, as 'tis now the murkiest den,
The most opportune place, the strongst suggestion,
Our worser Genius can, shall neuer melt
Mine honor into lust, to take away
The edge of that dayes celebration,
When I shall thinke, or Phoebus Steeds are founderd,
Or Night kept chain'd below

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

Enter Ariell.

  Ar. What would my potent master? here I am

   Pro. Thou, and thy meaner fellowes, your last seruice
Did worthily performe: and I must vse you
In such another tricke: goe bring the rabble
(Ore whom I giue thee powre) here, to this place:
Incite them to quicke motion, for I must
Bestow vpon the eyes of this yong couple
Some vanity of mine Art: it is my promise,
And they expect it from me

   Ar. Presently?

  Pro. I: with a twincke

   Ar. Before you can say come, and goe,
And breathe twice; and cry, so, so:
Each one tripping on his Toe,
Will be here with mop, and mowe.
Doe you loue me Master? no?

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

   Ar. Well: I conceiue.

Enter.

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

   Fer. I warrant you, Sir,
The white cold virgin Snow, vpon my heart
Abates the ardour of my Liuer

   Pro. Well.
Now come my Ariell, bring a Corolary,
Rather then want a Spirit; appear, & pertly.

Soft musick.

No tongue: all eyes: be silent.

Enter Iris.

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

Iuno  descends.

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

Enter Ceres.

  Cer. Haile, many-coloured Messenger, that nere
Do'st disobey the wife of Iupiter:
Who, with thy saffron wings, vpon my flowres
Diffusest hony drops, refreshing showres,
And with each end of thy blew bowe do'st crowne
My boskie acres, and my vnshrubd downe,
Rich scarph to my proud earth: why hath thy Queene
Summond me hither, to this short gras'd Greene?

  Ir. A contract of true Loue, to celebrate,
And some donation freely to estate
On the bles'd Louers

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

   Ir. Of her societie
Be not afraid: I met her deitie
Cutting the clouds towards Paphos: and her Son
Doue-drawn with her: here thought they to haue done
Some wanton charme, vpon this Man and Maide,
Whose vowes are, that no bed-right shall be paid
Till Hymens Torch be lighted: but in vaine,
Marses hot Minion is returnd againe,
Her waspish headed sonne, has broke his arrowes,
Swears he will shoote no more, but play with Sparrows,
And be a Boy right out

   Cer. Highest Queene of State,
Great Iuno comes, I know her by her gate

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

They sing.

  Iu. Honor, riches, marriage, blessing,
Long continuance, and encreasing,
Hourely ioyes, be still vpon you,
Iuno sings her blessings on you.
Earths increase, foyzon plentie,
Barnes, and Garners, neuer empty.
Vines, with clustring bunches growing,
Plants, with goodly burthen bowing:
Spring come to you at the farthest,
In the very end of Haruest.
Scarcity and want shall shun you,
Ceres blessing so is on you

   Fer. This is a most maiesticke vision, and
Harmonious charmingly: may I be bold
To thinke these spirits?

  Pro. Spirits, which by mine Art
I haue from their confines call'd to enact
My present fancies

   Fer. Let me liue here euer,
So rare a wondred Father, and a wise
Makes this place Paradise

   Pro. Sweet now, silence:
Iuno and Ceres whisper seriously,
There's something else to doe: hush, and be mute
Or else our spell is mar'd.

Iuno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment.

  Iris. You Nimphs cald Nayades of y windring brooks,
With your sedg'd crownes, and euer-harmelesse lookes,
Leaue your crispe channels, and on this green-Land
Answere your summons, Iuno do's command.
Come temperate Nimphes, and helpe to celebrate
A Contract of true Loue: be not too late.

Enter Certaine Nimphes.

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

Enter certaine Reapers (properly habited:) they ioyne with the
Nimphes,
in a gracefull dance, towards the end whereof, Prospero starts
sodainly
and speakes, after which to a strange hollow and confused noyse,
they
heauily vanish.

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

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

   Mir. Neuer till this day
Saw I him touch'd with anger, so distemper'd

   Pro. You doe looke (my son) in a mou'd sort,
As if you were dismaid: be cheerefull Sir,
Our Reuels now are ended: These our actors,
(As I foretold you) were all Spirits, and
Are melted into Ayre, into thin Ayre,
And like the baselesse fabricke of this vision
The Clowd-capt Towres, the gorgeous Pallaces,
The solemne Temples, the great Globe it selfe,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolue,
And like this insubstantiall Pageant faded
Leaue not a racke behinde: we are such stuffe
As dreames are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleepe: Sir, I am vext,
Beare with my weakenesse, my old braine is troubled:
Be not disturb'd with my infirmitie,
If you be pleas'd, retire into my Cell,
And there repose, a turne or two, Ile walke
To still my beating minde

   Fer. Mir. We wish your peace.

Enter.

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

Enter Ariell.

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

  Pro. Spirit: We must prepare to meet with Caliban

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

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

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

   Pro. This was well done (my bird)
Thy shape inuisible retaine thou still:
The trumpery in my house, goe bring it hither
For stale to catch these theeues

   Ar. I go, I goe.

Enter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Trin. Thou wert but a lost Monster

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

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

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

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

   Ste. I will fetch off my bottle,
Though I be o're eares for my labour

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

   Ste. Giue me thy hand,
I do begin to haue bloody thoughts

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

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

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

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

   Tri. Thy grace shall haue it

   Cal. The dropsie drowne this foole, what doe you meane
To doate thus on such luggage? let's alone
And doe the murther first: if he awake,
From toe to crowne hee'l fill our skins with pinches,
Make vs strange stuffe

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Tri. And this

   Ste. I, and this.

A noyse of Hunters heard. Enter diuers Spirits in shape of Dogs
and
Hounds, hunting them about: Prospero and Ariel setting them on.

  Pro. Hey Mountaine, hey

   Ari. Siluer: there it goes, Siluer

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

   Ari. Harke, they rore

   Pro. Let them be hunted soundly: At this houre
Lies at my mercy all mine enemies:
Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou
Shalt haue the ayre at freedome: for a little
Follow, and doe me seruice.

Exeunt.


Actus quintus: Scoena Prima.

Enter Prospero (in his Magicke robes) and Ariel.

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

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

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

  Ar. Confin'd together
In the same fashion, as you gaue in charge,
Iust as you left them; all prisoners Sir
In the Line-groue which weather-fends your Cell,
They cannot boudge till your release: The King,
His Brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,
And the remainder mourning ouer them,
Brim full of sorrow, and dismay: but chiefly
Him that you term'd Sir, the good old Lord Gonzallo,
His teares runs downe his beard like winters drops
From eaues of reeds: your charm so strongly works 'em
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender

   Pro. Dost thou thinke so, Spirit?

  Ar. Mine would, Sir, were I humane

   Pro. And mine shall.
Hast thou (which art but aire) a touch, a feeling
Of their afflictions, and shall not my selfe,
One of their kinde, that rellish all as sharpely,
Passion as they, be kindlier mou'd then thou art?
Thogh with their high wrongs I am strook to th' quick,
Yet, with my nobler reason, gainst my furie
Doe I take part: the rarer Action is
In vertue, then in vengeance: they, being penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frowne further: Goe, release them Ariell,
My Charmes Ile breake, their sences Ile restore,
And they shall be themselues

   Ar. Ile fetch them, Sir.

Enter.

  Pro. Ye Elues of hils, brooks, sta[n]ding lakes & groues,
And ye, that on the sands with printlesse foote
Doe chase the ebbingNeptune, and doe flie him
When he comes backe: you demy-Puppets, that
By Moone-shine doe the greene sowre Ringlets make,
Whereof the Ewe not bites: and you, whose pastime
Is to make midnight-Mushrumps, that reioyce
To heare the solemne Curfewe, by whose ayde
(Weake Masters though ye be) I haue bedymn'd
The Noone-tide Sun, call'd forth the mutenous windes,
And twixt the greene Sea, and the azur'd vault
Set roaring warre: To the dread ratling Thunder
Haue I giuen fire, and rifted Ioues stowt Oke
With his owne Bolt: The strong bass'd promontorie
Haue I made shake, and by the spurs pluckt vp
The Pyne, and Cedar. Graues at my command
Haue wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let 'em forth
By my so potent Art. But this rough Magicke
I heere abiure: and when I haue requir'd
Some heauenly Musicke (which euen now I do)
To worke mine end vpon their Sences, that
This Ayrie-charme is for, I'le breake my staffe,
Bury it certaine fadomes in the earth,
And deeper then did euer Plummet sound
Ile drowne my booke.

Solemne musicke.

Heere enters Ariel before: Then Alonso with a franticke gesture,
attended
by Gonzalo. Sebastian and Anthonio in like manner attended by
Adrian and
Francisco: They all enter the circle which Prospero had made, and
there
stand charm'd: which Prospero obseruing, speakes.

A solemne Ayre, and the best comforter,
To an vnsetled fancie, Cure thy braines
(Now vselesse) boile within thy skull: there stand
For you are Spell-stopt.
Holy Gonzallo, Honourable man,
Mine eyes ev'n sociable to the shew of thine
Fall fellowly drops: The charme dissolues apace,
And as the morning steales vpon the night
(Melting the darkenesse) so their rising sences
Begin to chace the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their cleerer reason. O good Gonzallo
My true preseruer, and a loyall Sir,
To him thou follow'st; I will pay thy graces
Home both in word, and deede: Most cruelly
Did thou Alonso, vse me, and my daughter:
Thy brother was a furtherer in the Act,
Thou art pinch'd for't now Sebastian. Flesh, and bloud,
You, brother mine, that entertaine ambition,
Expelld remorse, and nature, whom, with Sebastian
(Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong)
Would heere haue kill'd your King: I do forgiue thee,
Vnnaturall though thou art: Their vnderstanding
Begins to swell, and the approching tide
Will shortly fill the reasonable shore
That now ly foule, and muddy: not one of them
That yet lookes on me, or would know me: Ariell,
Fetch me the Hat, and Rapier in my Cell,
I will discase me, and my selfe present
As I was sometime Millaine: quickly Spirit,
Thou shalt ere long be free.

Ariell sings, and helps to attire him.

Where the Bee sucks, there suck I,
In a Cowslips bell, I lie,
There I cowch when Owles doe crie,
On the Batts backe I doe flie
after Sommer merrily.
Merrily, merrily, shall I liue now,
Vnder the blossom that hangs on the Bow

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

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

Enter.

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

   Pro. Behold Sir King
The wronged Duke of Millaine, Prospero:
For more assurance that a liuing Prince
Do's now speake to thee, I embrace thy body,
And to thee, and thy Company, I bid
A hearty welcome

   Alo. Where thou bee'st he or no,
Or some inchanted triflle to abuse me,
(As late I haue beene) I not know: thy Pulse
Beats as of flesh, and blood: and since I saw thee,
Th' affliction of my minde amends, with which
I feare a madnesse held me: this must craue
(And if this be at all) a most strange story.
Thy Dukedome I resigne, and doe entreat
Thou pardon me my wrongs: But how shold Prospero
Be liuing, and be heere?

  Pro. First, noble Frend,
Let me embrace thine age, whose honor cannot
Be measur'd, or confin'd

   Gonz. Whether this be,
Or be not, I'le not sweare

   Pro. You doe yet taste
Some subtleties o'th' Isle, that will nor let you
Beleeue things certaine: Wellcome, my friends all,
But you, my brace of Lords, were I so minded
I heere could plucke his Highnesse frowne vpon you
And iustifie you Traitors: at this time
I will tell no tales

   Seb. The Diuell speakes in him:

  Pro. No:
For you (most wicked Sir) whom to call brother
Would euen infect my mouth, I do forgiue
Thy rankest fault; all of them: and require
My Dukedome of thee, which, perforce I know
Thou must restore

   Alo. If thou beest Prospero
Giue vs particulars of thy preseruation,
How thou hast met vs heere, whom three howres since
Were wrackt vpon this shore? where I haue lost
(How sharp the point of this remembrance is)
My deere sonne Ferdinand

   Pro. I am woe for't, Sir

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

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

   Alo. You the like losse?

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

   Alo. A daughter?
Oh heauens, that they were liuing both in Naples
The King and Queene there, that they were, I wish
My selfe were mudded in that oozie bed
Where my sonne lies: when did you lose your daughter?

  Pro. In this last Tempest. I perceiue these Lords
At this encounter doe so much admire,
That they deuoure their reason, and scarce thinke
Their eies doe offices of Truth: Their words
Are naturall breath: but howsoeu'r you haue
Beene iustled from your sences, know for certain
That I am Prospero, and that very Duke
Which was thrust forth of Millaine, who most strangely
Vpon this shore (where you were wrackt) was landed
To be the Lord on't: No more yet of this,
For 'tis a Chronicle of day by day,
Not a relation for a break-fast, nor
Befitting this first meeting: Welcome, Sir;
This Cell's my Court: heere haue I few attendants,
And Subiects none abroad: pray you looke in:
My Dukedome since you haue giuen me againe,
I will requite you with as good a thing,
At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye
As much, as me my Dukedome.

Here Prospero discouers Ferdinand and Miranda, playing at
Chesse.

  Mir. Sweet Lord, you play me false

   Fer. No my dearest loue,
I would not for the world

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

   Alo. If this proue
A vision of the Island, one deere Sonne
Shall I twice loose

   Seb. A most high miracle

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

   Alo. Now all the blessings
Of a glad father, compasse thee about:
Arise, and say how thou cam'st heere

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

   Pro. 'Tis new to thee

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

  Fer. Sir, she is mortall;
But by immortall prouidence, she's mine;
I chose her when I could not aske my Father
For his aduise: nor thought I had one: She
Is daughter to this famous Duke of Millaine,
Of whom, so often I haue heard renowne,
But neuer saw before: of whom I haue
Receiu'd a second life; and second Father
This Lady makes him to me

   Alo. I am hers.
But O, how odly will it sound, that I
Must aske my childe forgiuenesse?

  Pro. There Sir stop,
Let vs not burthen our remembrances, with
A heauinesse that's gon

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

   Alo. I say Amen, Gonzallo

   Gon. Was Millaine thrust from Millaine, that his Issue
Should become Kings of Naples? O reioyce
Beyond a common ioy, and set it downe
With gold on lasting Pillers: In one voyage
Did Claribell her husband finde at Tunis,
And Ferdinand her brother, found a wife,
Where he himselfe was lost: Prospero, his Dukedome
In a poore Isle: and all of vs, our selues,
When no man was his owne

   Alo. Giue me your hands:
Let griefe and sorrow still embrace his heart,
That doth not wish you ioy

   Gon. Be it so, Amen.

Enter Ariell, with the Master and Boatswaine amazedly following.

O looke Sir, looke Sir, here is more of vs:
I prophesi'd, if a Gallowes were on Land
This fellow could not drowne: Now blasphemy,
That swear'st Grace ore-boord, not an oath on shore,
Hast thou no mouth by land?
What is the newes?

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

   Ar. Sir, all this seruice
Haue I done since I went

   Pro. My tricksey Spirit

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

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

   Ar. Was't well done?

   Pro. Brauely (my diligence) thou shalt be free

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

   Pro. Sir, my Leige,
Doe not infest your minde, with beating on
The strangenesse of this businesse, at pickt leisure
(Which shall be shortly single) I'le resolue you,
(Which to you shall seeme probable) of euery
These happend accidents: till when, be cheerefull
And thinke of each thing well: Come hither Spirit,
Set Caliban, and his companions free:
Vntye the Spell: How fares my gracious Sir?
There are yet missing of your Companie
Some few odde Lads, that you remember not.

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

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

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

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

   Seb. Ha, ha:
What things are these, my Lord Anthonio?
Will money buy em?

  Ant. Very like: one of them
Is a plaine Fish, and no doubt marketable

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

   Cal. I shall be pincht to death

   Alo. Is not this Stephano, my drunken Butler?

  Seb. He is drunke now;
Where had he wine?

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

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

   Seb. Why how now Stephano?

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

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

  Ste. I should haue bin a sore one then

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

   Pro. He is as disproportion'd in his Manners
As in his shape: Goe Sirha, to my Cell,
Take with you your Companions: as you looke
To haue my pardon, trim it handsomely

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

  Pro. Goe to, away

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

   Seb. Or stole it rather

   Pro. Sir, I inuite your Highnesse, and your traine
To my poore Cell: where you shall take your rest
For this one night, which part of it, Ile waste
With such discourse, as I not doubt, shall make it
Goe quicke away: The story of my life,
And the particular accidents, gon by
Since I came to this Isle: And in the morne
I'le bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,
Where I haue hope to see the nuptiall
Of these our deere-belou'd, solemnized,
And thence retire me to my Millaine, where
Euery third thought shall be my graue

   Alo. I long
To heare the story of your life; which must
Take the eare strangely

   Pro. I'le deliuer all,
And promise you calme Seas, auspicious gales,
And saile, so expeditious, that shall catch
Your Royall fleete farre off: My Ariel; chicke
That is thy charge: Then to the Elements
Be free, and fare thou well: please you draw neere.

Exeunt. omnes.


EPILOGVE, spoken by Prospero.

Now my Charmes are all ore-throwne,
And what strength I haue's mine owne.
Which is most faint: now 'tis true
I must be heere confinde by you,
Or sent to Naples, Let me not
Since I haue my Dukedome got,
And pardon'd the deceiuer, dwell
In this bare Island, by your Spell,
But release me from my bands
With the helpe of your good hands:
Gentle breath of yours, my Sailes
Must fill, or else my proiect failes,
Which was to please: Now I want
Spirits to enforce: Art to inchant,
And my ending is despaire,
Vnlesse I be relieu'd by praier
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy it selfe, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your Indulgence set me free.

Enter.


The-, an vn-inhabited Island

Names of the Actors.

Alonso, K[ing]. of Naples:
Sebastian his Brother.
Prospero, the right Duke of Millaine.
Anthonio his brother, the vsurping Duke of Millaine.
Ferdinand, Son to the King of Naples.
Gonzalo, an honest old Councellor.
Adrian, & Francisco, Lords.
Caliban, a saluage and deformed slaue.
Trinculo, a Iester.
Stephano, a drunken Butler.
Master of a Ship.
Boate-Swaine.
Marriners.
Miranda, daughter to Prospero.
Ariell, an ayrie spirit.
Iris
Ceres
 Iuno
 Nymphes
 Reapers
 Spirits.

FINIS. THE TEMPEST.


The Two Gentlemen of Verona

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Valentine: Protheus, and Speed.

  Valentine. Cease to perswade, my louing Protheus;
Home-keeping youth, haue euer homely wits,
Wer't not affection chaines thy tender dayes
To the sweet glaunces of thy honour'd Loue,
I rather would entreat thy company,
To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Then (liuing dully sluggardiz'd at home)
Weare out thy youth with shapelesse idlenesse.
But since thou lou'st; loue still, and thriue therein,
Euen as I would, when I to loue begin

   Pro. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine adew,
Thinke on thy Protheus, when thou (hap'ly) seest
Some rare note-worthy obiect in thy trauaile.
Wish me partaker in thy happinesse,
When thou do'st meet good hap; and in thy danger,
(If euer danger doe enuiron thee)
Commend thy grieuance to my holy prayers,
For I will be thy beades-man, Valentine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Pro. What?

  Val. To be in loue; where scorne is bought with grones:
Coy looks, with hart-sore sighes: one fading moments mirth,
With twenty watchfull, weary, tedious nights;
If hap'ly won, perhaps a haplesse gaine;
If lost, why then a grieuous labour won;
How euer: but a folly bought with wit,
Or else a wit, by folly vanquished

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

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

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

   Val. Loue is your master, for he masters you;
And he that is so yoked by a foole,
Me thinkes should not be chronicled for wise

   Pro. Yet Writers say; as in the sweetest Bud,
The eating Canker dwels; so eating Loue
Inhabits in the finest wits of all

   Val. And Writers say; as the most forward Bud
Is eaten by the Canker ere it blow,
Euen so by Loue, the yong, and tender wit
Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the Bud,
Loosing his verdure, euen in the prime,
And all the faire effects of future hopes.
But wherefore waste I time to counsaile thee
That art a votary to fond desire?
Once more adieu: my Father at the Road
Expects my comming, there to see me ship'd

   Pro. And thither will I bring thee Valentine

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

   Pro. All happinesse bechance to thee in Millaine

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

Enter

   Pro. He after Honour hunts, I after Loue;
He leaues his friends, to dignifie them more;
I loue my selfe, my friends, and all for loue:
Thou Iulia, thou hast metamorphis'd me:
Made me neglect my Studies, loose my time;
Warre with good counsaile; set the world at nought;
Made Wit with musing, weake; hart sick with thought

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

  Pro. But now he parted hence to embarque for Millain

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

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

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

  Pro. I doe

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

   Pro. A silly answere, and fitting well a Sheepe

   Sp. This proues me still a Sheepe

   Pro. True: and thy Master a Shepheard

   Sp. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance

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

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

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

   Sp. Such another proofe will make me cry baa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Pro. But what said she?

  Sp. I

   Pro. Nod-I, why that's noddy

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

   Pro. And that set together is noddy

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

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

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

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

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

   Pro. Beshrew me, but you haue a quicke wit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Pro. What said she, nothing?

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

   Pro. Go, go, be gone, to saue your Ship from wrack,
Which cannot perish hauing thee aboarde,
Being destin'd to a drier death on shore:
I must goe send some better Messenger,
I feare my Iulia would not daigne my lines,
Receiuing them from such a worthlesse post.

Enter.


Scoena Secunda.

Enter Iulia and Lucetta.

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

  Luc. I Madam, so you stumble not vnheedfully

   Iul. Of all the faire resort of Gentlemen,
That euery day with par'le encounter me,
In thy opinion which is worthiest loue?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Iul. His little speaking, shewes his loue but small

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

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

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

   Iul. I would I knew his minde

   Lu. Peruse this paper Madam

   Iul. To Iulia: say, from whom?
  Lu. That the Contents will shew

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

   Iul. Now (by my modesty) a goodly Broker:
Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?
To whisper, and conspire against my youth?
Now trust me, 'tis an office of great worth,
And you an officer fit for the place:
There: take the paper: see it be return'd,
Or else returne no more into my sight

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

   Iul. Will ye be gon?
  Lu. That you may ruminate.

Enter.

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

   Lu. What would your Ladiship?
  Iul. Is't neere dinner time?
  Lu. I would it were,
That you might kill your stomacke on your meat,
And not vpon your Maid

   Iu. What is't that you
Tooke vp so gingerly?
  Lu. Nothing

   Iu. Why didst thou stoope then?
  Lu. To take a paper vp, that I let fall

   Iul. And is that paper nothing?
  Lu. Nothing concerning me

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

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

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

   Lu. That I might sing it (Madam) to a tune:
Giue me a Note, your Ladiship can set
  Iul. As little by such toyes, as may be possible:
Best sing it to the tune of Light O, Loue

   Lu. It is too heauy for so light a tune

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

   Iu. Let's see your Song:
How now Minion?
  Lu. Keepe tune there still; so you will sing it out:
And yet me thinkes I do not like this tune

   Iu. You doe not?
  Lu. No (Madam) tis too sharpe

   Iu. You (Minion) are too saucie

   Lu. Nay, now you are too flat;
And marre the concord, with too harsh a descant:
There wanteth but a Meane to fill your Song

   Iu. The meane is dround with you vnruly base

   Lu. Indeede I bid the base for Protheus

   Iu. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me;
Here is a coile with protestation:
Goe, get you gone: and let the papers lye:
You would be fingring them, to anger me

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

   Iu. Nay, would I were so angred with the same:
Oh hatefull hands, to teare such louing words;
Iniurious Waspes, to feede on such sweet hony,
And kill the Bees that yeelde it, with your stings;
Ile kisse each seuerall paper, for amends:
Looke, here is writ, kinde Iulia: vnkinde Iulia,
As in reuenge of thy ingratitude,
I throw thy name against the bruzing-stones,
Trampling contemptuously on thy disdaine.
And here is writ, Loue wounded Protheus.
Poore wounded name: my bosome, as a bed,
Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly heal'd;
And thus I search it with a soueraigne kisse.
But twice, or thrice, was Protheus written downe:
Be calme (good winde) blow not a word away,
Till I haue found each letter, in the Letter,
Except mine own name: That, some whirle-winde beare
Vnto a ragged, fearefull, hanging Rocke,
And throw it thence into the raging Sea.
Loe, here in one line is his name twice writ:
Poore forlorne Protheus, passionate Protheus:
To the sweet Iulia: that ile teare away:
And yet I will not, sith so prettily
He couples it, to his complaining Names;
Thus will I fold them, one vpon another;
Now kisse, embrace, contend, doe what you will

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

   Iu. Well, let vs goe

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

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

   Iu. I see you haue a months minde to them

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

   Iu. Come, come, wilt please you goe.

Exeunt.


Scoena Tertia.


Enter Antonio and Panthino. Protheus.

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

   Ant. Why? what of him?
  Pan. He wondred that your Lordship
Would suffer him, to spend his youth at home,
While other men, of slender reputation
Put forth their Sonnes, to seeke preferment out.
Some to the warres, to try their fortune there;
Some, to discouer Islands farre away:
Some, to the studious Vniuersities;
For any, or for all these exercises,
He said, that Protheus, your sonne, was meet;
And did request me, to importune you
To let him spend his time no more at home;
Which would be great impeachment to his age,
In hauing knowne no trauaile in his youth

   Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me to that
Whereon, this month I haue bin hamering.
I haue consider'd well, his losse of time,
And how he cannot be a perfect man,
Not being tryed, and tutord in the world:
Experience is by industry atchieu'd,
And perfected by the swift course of time:
Then tell me, whether were I best to send him?
  Pan. I thinke your Lordship is not ignorant
How his companion, youthfull Valentine,
Attends the Emperour in his royall Court

   Ant. I know it well

   Pan. 'Twere good, I thinke, your Lordship sent him
(thither,
There shall he practise Tilts, and Turnaments;
Heare sweet discourse, conuerse with Noble-men,
And be in eye of euery Exercise
Worthy his youth, and noblenesse of birth

   Ant. I like thy counsaile: well hast thou aduis'd:
And that thou maist perceiue how well I like it,
The execution of it shall make knowne;
Euen with the speediest expedition,
I will dispatch him to the Emperors Court

   Pan. To morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso,
With other Gentlemen of good esteeme
Are iournying, to salute the Emperor,
And to commend their seruice to his will

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

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

   Pro. Oh heauenly Iulia

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

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

   Pro. There is no newes (my Lord) but that he writes
How happily he liues, how well-belou'd,
And daily graced by the Emperor;
Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune

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

   Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish:
Muse not that I thus sodainly proceed;
For what I will, I will, and there an end:
I am resolu'd, that thou shalt spend some time
With Valentinus, in the Emperors Court:
What maintenance he from his friends receiues,
Like exhibition thou shalt haue from me,
To morrow be in readinesse, to goe,
Excuse it not: for I am peremptory

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

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

   Pro. Thus haue I shund the fire, for feare of burning,
And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd.
I fear'd to shew my Father Iulias Letter,
Least he should take exceptions to my loue,
And with the vantage of mine owne excuse
Hath he excepted most against my loue.
Oh, how this spring of loue resembleth
The vncertaine glory of an Aprill day,
Which now shewes all the beauty of the Sun,
And by and by a clowd takes all away

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

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

Exeunt. Finis.


Actus secundus: Scoena Prima.

Enter Valentine, Speed, Siluia

   Speed. Sir, your Gloue

   Valen. Not mine: my Gloues are on

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

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

   Speed. Madam Siluia: Madam Siluia

   Val. How now Sirha?
  Speed. Shee is not within hearing Sir

   Val. Why sir, who bad you call her?
  Speed. Your worship sir, or else I mistooke

   Val. Well: you'll still be too forward

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

   Val. Goe to, sir, tell me: do you know Madam Siluia?
  Speed. Shee that your worship loues?
  Val. Why, how know you that I am in loue?
  Speed. Marry by these speciall markes: first, you haue
learn'd (like Sir Protheus) to wreath your Armes like a
Male-content: to rellish a Loue-song, like a Robin-redbreast:
to walke alone like one that had the pestilence:
to sigh, like a Schoole-boy that had lost his A.B.C. to
weep like a yong wench that had buried her Grandam:
to fast, like one that takes diet: to watch, like one that
feares robbing: to speake puling, like a beggar at Hallow-Masse:
You were wont, when you laughed, to crow
like a cocke; when you walk'd, to walke like one of the
Lions: when you fasted, it was presently after dinner:
when you look'd sadly, it was for want of money: And
now you are Metamorphis'd with a Mistris, that when I
looke on you, I can hardly thinke you my Master

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

   Val. Without me? they cannot

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

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

   Speed. Why sir, I know her not

   Val. Do'st thou know her by my gazing on her, and
yet know'st her not?
  Speed. Is she not hard-fauour'd, sir?
  Val. Not so faire (boy) as well fauour'd

   Speed. Sir, I know that well enough

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Speed. If you loue her, you cannot see her

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

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

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

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

   Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her

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

   Val. Last night she enioyn'd me,
To write some lines to one she loues

   Speed. And haue you?
  Val. I haue

   Speed. Are they not lamely writt?
  Val. No (Boy) but as well as I can do them:
Peace, here she comes

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

   Val. Madam & Mistres, a thousand good-morrows

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

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

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

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

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

   Val. Now trust me (Madam) it came hardly-off:
For being ignorant to whom it goes,
I writ at randome, very doubtfully

   Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains?
  Val. No (Madam) so it steed you, I will write
(Please you command) a thousand times as much:
And yet -
  Sil. A pretty period: well: I ghesse the sequell;
And yet I will not name it: and yet I care not.
And yet, take this againe: and yet I thanke you:
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more

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

   Val. What meanes your Ladiship?
Doe you not like it?
  Sil. Yes, yes: the lines are very queintly writ,
But (since vnwillingly) take them againe.
Nay, take them

   Val. Madam, they are for you

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

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

Exit. Sil.

  Speed. Oh Iest vnseene: inscrutible: inuisible,
As a nose on a mans face, or a Wethercocke on a steeple:
My Master sues to her: and she hath taught her Sutor,
He being her Pupill, to become her Tutor.
Oh excellent deuise, was there euer heard a better?
That my master being scribe,
To himselfe should write the Letter?
  Val. How now Sir?
What are you reasoning with your selfe?
  Speed. Nay: I was riming: 'tis you y haue the reason

   Val. To doe what?
  Speed. To be a Spokes-man from Madam Siluia

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

   Val. What figure?
  Speed. By a Letter, I should say

   Val. Why she hath not writ to me?
  Speed. What need she,
When shee hath made you write to your selfe?
Why, doe you not perceiue the iest?
  Val. No, beleeue me

   Speed. No beleeuing you indeed sir:
But did you perceiue her earnest?
  Val. She gaue me none, except an angry word

   Speed. Why she hath giuen you a Letter

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

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

   Val. I would it were no worse

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

   Val. I haue dyn'd

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

Exeunt.


Scoena secunda.

Enter Protheus, Iulia, Panthion.

  Pro. Haue patience, gentle Iulia:
  Iul. I must where is no remedy

   Pro. When possibly I can, I will returne

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

   Pro. Why then wee'll make exchange;
Here, take you this

   Iul. And seale the bargaine with a holy kisse

   Pro. Here is my hand, for my true constancie:
And when that howre ore-slips me in the day,
Wherein I sigh not (Iulia) for thy sake,
The next ensuing howre, some foule mischance
Torment me for my Loues forgetfulnesse:
My father staies my comming: answere not:
The tide is now; nay, not thy tide of teares,
That tide will stay me longer then I should,
Iulia, farewell: what, gon without a word?
I, so true loue should doe: it cannot speake,
For truth hath better deeds, then words to grace it

   Panth. Sir Protheus: you are staid for

   Pro. Goe: I come, I come:
Alas, this parting strikes poore Louers dumbe.

Exeunt.


Scoena Tertia.

Enter Launce, Panthion.

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

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

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

   Panth. What's the vnkindest tide?
  Lau. Why, he that's tide here, Crab my dog

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

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

   Panth. In thy Taile

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

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

   Lau. Sir: call me what thou dar'st

   Pant. Wilt thou goe?
  Laun. Well, I will goe.

Exeunt.


Scena Quarta.

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

  Sil. Seruant

   Val. Mistris

   Spee. Master, Sir Thurio frownes on you

   Val. I Boy, it's for loue

   Spee. Not of you

   Val. Of my Mistresse then

   Spee. 'Twere good you knockt him

   Sil. Seruant, you are sad

   Val. Indeed, Madam, I seeme so

   Thu. Seeme you that you are not?
  Val. Hap'ly I doe

   Thu. So doe Counterfeyts

   Val. So doe you

   Thu. What seeme I that I am not?
  Val. Wise

   Thu. What instance of the contrary?
  Val. Your folly

   Thu. And how quoat you my folly?
  Val. I quoat it in your Ierkin

   Thu. My Ierkin is a doublet

   Val. Well then, Ile double your folly

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

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

   Val. You haue said Sir

   Thu. I Sir, and done too for this time

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

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

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

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

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

   Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more:
Here comes my father

   Duk. Now, daughter Siluia, you are hard beset.
Sir Valentine, your father is in good health,
What say you to a Letter from your friends
Of much good newes?
  Val. My Lord, I will be thankfull,
To any happy messenger from thence

   Duk. Know ye Don Antonio, your Countriman?
  Val. I, my good Lord, I know the Gentleman
To be of worth, and worthy estimation,
And not without desert so well reputed

   Duk. Hath he not a Sonne?
  Val. I, my good Lord, a Son, that well deserues
The honor, and regard of such a father

   Duk. You know him well?
  Val. I knew him as my selfe: for from our Infancie
We haue conuerst, and spent our howres together,
And though my selfe haue beene an idle Trewant,
Omitting the sweet benefit of time
To cloath mine age with Angel-like perfection:
Yet hath Sir Protheus (for that's his name)
Made vse, and faire aduantage of his daies:
His yeares but yong, but his experience old:
His head vn-mellowed, but his Iudgement ripe;
And in a word (for far behinde his worth
Comes all the praises that I now bestow.)
He is compleat in feature, and in minde,
With all good grace, to grace a Gentleman

   Duk. Beshrew me sir, but if he make this good
He is as worthy for an Empresse loue,
As meet to be an Emperors Councellor:
Well, Sir: this Gentleman is come to me
With Commendation from great Potentates,
And heere he meanes to spend his time a while,
I thinke 'tis no vn-welcome newes to you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Sil. Too low a Mistres for so high a seruant

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

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

   Pro. My dutie will I boast of, nothing else

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

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

   Sil. That you are welcome?
  Pro. That you are worthlesse

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

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

   Pro. Wee'll both attend vpon your Ladiship

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

   Val. And how doe yours?
  Pro. I left them all in health

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

   Val. I Protheus, but that life is alter'd now,
I haue done pennance for contemning Loue,
Whose high emperious thoughts haue punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitentiall grones,
With nightly teares, and daily hart-sore sighes,
For in reuenge of my contempt of loue,
Loue hath chas'd sleepe from my enthralled eyes,
And made them watchers of mine owne hearts sorrow.
O gentle Protheus, Loue's a mighty Lord,
And hath so humbled me, as I confesse
There is no woe to his correction,
Nor to his Seruice, no such ioy on earth:
Now, no discourse, except it be of loue:
Now can I breake my fast, dine, sup, and sleepe,
Vpon the very naked name of Loue

   Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye:
Was this the Idoll, that you worship so?
  Val. Euen She; and is she not a heauenly Saint?
  Pro. No; But she is an earthly Paragon

   Val. Call her diuine

   Pro. I will not flatter her

   Val. O flatter me: for Loue delights in praises

   Pro. When I was sick, you gaue me bitter pils,
And I must minister the like to you

   Val. Then speake the truth by her; if not diuine,
Yet let her be a principalitie,
Soueraigne to all the Creatures on the earth

   Pro. Except my Mistresse

   Val. Sweet: except not any,
Except thou wilt except against my Loue

   Pro. Haue I not reason to prefer mine owne?
  Val. And I will help thee to prefer her to:
Shee shall be dignified with this high honour,
To beare my Ladies traine, lest the base earth
Should from her vesture chance to steale a kisse,
And of so great a fauor growing proud,
Disdaine to roote the Sommer-swelling flowre,
And make rough winter euerlastingly

   Pro. Why Valentine, what Bragadisme is this?
  Val. Pardon me (Protheus) all I can is nothing,
To her, whose worth, make other worthies nothing;
Shee is alone

   Pro. Then let her alone

   Val. Not for the world: why man, she is mine owne,
And I as rich in hauing such a Iewell
As twenty Seas, if all their sand were pearle,
The water, Nectar, and the Rocks pure gold.
Forgiue me, that I doe not dreame on thee,
Because thou seest me doate vpon my loue:
My foolish Riuall that her Father likes
(Onely for his possessions are so huge)
Is gone with her along, and I must after,
For Loue (thou know'st is full of iealousie.)
  Pro. But she loues you?
  Val. I, and we are betroathd: nay more, our mariage howre,
With all the cunning manner of our flight
Determin'd of: how I must climbe her window,
The Ladder made of Cords, and all the means
Plotted, and 'greed on for my happinesse.
Good Protheus goe with me to my chamber,
In these affaires to aid me with thy counsaile

   Pro. Goe on before: I shall enquire you forth:
I must vnto the Road, to dis-embarque
Some necessaries, that I needs must vse,
And then Ile presently attend you

   Val. Will you make haste?

Enter.

  Pro. I will.
Euen as one heate, another heate expels,
Or as one naile, by strength driues out another.
So the remembrance of my former Loue
Is by a newer obiect quite forgotten,
It is mine, or Valentines praise?
Her true perfection, or my false transgression?
That makes me reasonlesse, to reason thus?
Shee is faire: and so is Iulia that I loue,
(That I did loue, for now my loue is thaw'd,
Which like a waxen Image 'gainst a fire
Beares no impression of the thing it was.)
Me thinkes my zeale to Valentine is cold,
And that I loue him not as I was wont:
O, but I loue his Lady too-too much,
And that's the reason I loue him so little.
How shall I doate on her with more aduice,
That thus without aduice begin to loue her?
'Tis but her picture I haue yet beheld,
And that hath dazel'd my reasons light:
But when I looke on her perfections,
There is no reason, but I shall be blinde.
If I can checke my erring loue, I will,
If not, to compasse her Ile vse my skill.

Exeunt.


Scena Quinta.

Enter Speed and Launce.

  Speed. Launce, by mine honesty welcome to Padua

   Laun. Forsweare not thy selfe, sweet youth, for I am
not welcome. I reckon this alwaies, that a man is neuer
vndon till hee be hang'd, nor neuer welcome to a place,
till some certaine shot be paid, and the Hostesse say welcome

   Speed. Come-on you mad-cap: Ile to the Ale-house
with you presently; where, for one shot of fiue pence,
thou shalt haue fiue thousand welcomes: But sirha, how
did thy Master part with Madam Iulia?
  Lau. Marry after they cloas'd in earnest, they parted
very fairely in iest

   Spee. But shall she marry him?
  Lau. No

   Spee. How then? shall he marry her?
  Lau. No, neither

   Spee. What, are they broken?
  Lau. No; they are both as whole as a fish

   Spee. Why then, how stands the matter with them?
  Lau. Marry thus, when it stands well with him, it
stands well with her

   Spee. What an asse art thou, I vnderstand thee not

   Lau. What a blocke art thou, that thou canst not?
My staffe vnderstands me?
  Spee. What thou saist?
  Lau. I, and what I do too: looke thee, Ile but leane,
and my staffe vnderstands me

   Spee. It stands vnder thee indeed

   Lau. Why, stand-vnder: and vnder-stand is all one

   Spee. But tell me true, wil't be a match?
  Lau. Aske my dogge, if he say I, it will: if hee say
no, it will: if hee shake his taile, and say nothing, it
will

   Spee. The conclusion is then, that it will

   Lau. Thou shalt neuer get such a secret from me, but
by a parable

   Spee. 'Tis well that I get it so: but Launce, how saist
thou that that my master is become a notable Louer?
  Lau. I neuer knew him otherwise

   Spee. Then how?
  Lau. A notable Lubber: as thou reportest him to
bee

   Spee. Why, thou whorson Asse, thou mistak'st me,
  Lau. Why Foole, I meant not thee, I meant thy
Master

   Spee. I tell thee, my Master is become a hot Louer

   Lau. Why, I tell thee, I care not, though hee burne
himselfe in Loue. If thou wilt goe with me to the Alehouse:
if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Iew, and not worth
the name of a Christian

   Spee. Why?
  Lau. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as
to goe to the Ale with a Christian: Wilt thou goe?
  Spee. At thy seruice.

Exeunt.


Scoena Sexta.

Enter Protheus solus.

  Pro. To leaue my Iulia; shall I be forsworne?
To loue faire Siluia; shall I be forsworne?
To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworne.
And ev'n that Powre which gaue me first my oath
Prouokes me to this three-fold periurie.
Loue bad mee sweare, and Loue bids me for-sweare;
O sweet-suggesting Loue, if thou hast sin'd,
Teach me (thy tempted subiect) to excuse it.
At first I did adore a twinkling Starre,
But now I worship a celestiall Sunne:
Vn-heedfull vowes may heedfully be broken,
And he wants wit, that wants resolued will,
To learne his wit, t' exchange the bad for better;
Fie, fie, vnreuerend tongue, to call her bad,
Whose soueraignty so oft thou hast preferd,
With twenty thousand soule-confirming oathes.
I cannot leaue to loue; and yet I doe:
But there I leaue to loue, where I should loue.
Iulia I loose, and Valentine I loose,
If I keepe them, I needs must loose my selfe:
If I loose them, thus finde I by their losse,
For Valentine, my selfe: for Iulia, Siluia.
I to my selfe am deerer then a friend,
For Loue is still most precious in it selfe,
And Siluia (witnesse heauen that made her faire)
Shewes Iulia but a swarthy Ethiope.
I will forget that Iulia is aliue,
Remembring that my Loue to her is dead.
And Valentine Ile hold an Enemie,
Ayming at Siluia as a sweeter friend.
I cannot now proue constant to my selfe,
Without some treachery vs'd to Valentine.
This night he meaneth with a Corded-ladder
To climbe celestiall Siluia's chamber window,
My selfe in counsaile his competitor.
Now presently Ile giue her father notice
Of their disguising and pretended flight:
Who (all inrag'd) will banish Valentine:
For Thurio he intends shall wed his daughter,
But Valentine being gon, Ile quickely crosse
By some slie tricke, blunt Thurio's dull proceeding.
Loue lend me wings, to make my purpose swift
As thou hast lent me wit, to plot this drift.

Enter.


Scoena septima.

Enter Iulia and Lucetta.

  Iul. Counsaile, Lucetta, gentle girle assist me,
And eu'n in kinde loue, I doe coniure thee,
Who art the Table wherein all my thoughts
Are visibly Character'd, and engrau'd,
To lesson me, and tell me some good meane
How with my honour I may vndertake
A iourney to my louing Protheus

   Luc. Alas, the way is wearisome and long

   Iul. A true-deuoted Pilgrime is not weary
To measure Kingdomes with his feeble steps,
Much lesse shall she that hath Loues wings to flie,
And when the flight is made to one so deere,
Of such diuine perfection as Sir Protheus

   Luc. Better forbeare, till Protheus make returne

   Iul. Oh, know'st y not, his looks are my soules food?
Pitty the dearth that I haue pined in,
By longing for that food so long a time.
Didst thou but know the inly touch of Loue,
Thou wouldst as soone goe kindle fire with snow
As seeke to quench the fire of Loue with words

   Luc. I doe not seeke to quench your Loues hot fire,
But qualifie the fires extreame rage,
Lest it should burne aboue the bounds of reason

   Iul. The more thou dam'st it vp, the more it burnes:
The Current that with gentle murmure glides
(Thou know'st) being stop'd, impatiently doth rage:
But when his faire course is not hindered,
He makes sweet musicke with th' enameld stones,
Giuing a gentle kisse to euery sedge
He ouer-taketh in his pilgrimage.
And so by many winding nookes he straies
With willing sport to the wilde Ocean.
Then let me goe, and hinder not my course:
Ile be as patient as a gentle streame,
And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step haue brought me to my Loue,
And there Ile rest, as after much turmoile
A blessed soule doth in Elizium

   Luc. But in what habit will you goe along?
  Iul. Not like a woman, for I would preuent
The loose encounters of lasciuious men:
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weedes
As may beseeme some well reputed Page

   Luc. Why then your Ladiship must cut your haire

   Iul. No girle, Ile knit it vp in silken strings,
With twentie od-conceited true-loue knots:
To be fantastique, may become a youth
Of greater time then I shall shew to be

   Luc. What fashion (Madam) shall I make your breeches?
  Iul. That fits as well, as tell me (good my Lord)
What compasse will you weare your Farthingale?
Why eu'n what fashion thou best likes (Lucetta.)
  Luc. You must needs haue the[m] with a cod-peece Ma[dam]
  Iul. Out, out, (Lucetta) that wilbe illfauourd

   Luc. A round hose (Madam) now's not worth a pin
Vnlesse you haue a cod-peece to stick pins on

   Iul. Lucetta, as thou lou'st me let me haue
What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly.
But tell me (wench) how will the world repute me
For vndertaking so vnstaid a iourney?
I feare me it will make me scandaliz'd

   Luc. If you thinke so, then stay at home, and go not

   Iul. Nay, that I will not

   Luc. Then neuer dreame on Infamy, but go:
If Protheus like your iourney, when you come,
No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone:
I feare me he will scarce be pleas'd with all

   Iul. That is the least (Lucetta) of my feare:
A thousand oathes, an Ocean of his teares,
And instances of infinite of Loue,
Warrant me welcome to my Protheus

   Luc. All these are seruants to deceitfull men

   Iul. Base men, that vse them to so base effect;
But truer starres did gouerne Protheus birth,
His words are bonds, his oathes are oracles,
His loue sincere, his thoughts immaculate,
His teares, pure messengers, sent from his heart,
His heart, as far from fraud, as heauen from earth

   Luc. Pray heau'n he proue so when you come to him

   Iul. Now, as thou lou'st me, do him not that wrong,
To beare a hard opinion of his truth:
Onely deserue my loue, by louing him,
And presently goe with me to my chamber
To take a note of what I stand in need of,
To furnish me vpon my longing iourney:
All that is mine I leaue at thy dispose,
My goods, my Lands, my reputation,
Onely, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence:
Come; answere not: but to it presently,
I am impatient of my tarriance.

Exeunt.


Actus Tertius, Scena Prima.

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

  Duke. Sir Thurio, giue vs leaue (I pray) a while,
We haue some secrets to confer about.
Now tell me Protheus, what's your will with me?
  Pro. My gracious Lord, that which I wold discouer,
The Law of friendship bids me to conceale,
But when I call to minde your gracious fauours
Done to me (vndeseruing as I am)
My dutie pricks me on to vtter that
Which else, no worldly good should draw from me:
Know (worthy Prince) Sir Valentine my friend
This night intends to steale away your daughter:
My selfe am one made priuy to the plot.
I know you haue determin'd to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates,
And should she thus be stolne away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus (for my duties sake) I rather chose
To crosse my friend in his intended drift,
Then (by concealing it) heap on your head
A pack of sorrowes, which would presse you downe
(Being vnpreuented) to your timelesse graue

   Duke. Protheus, I thank thee for thine honest care,
Which to requite, command me while I liue.
This loue of theirs, my selfe haue often seene,
Haply when they haue iudg'd me fast asleepe,
And oftentimes haue purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her companie, and my Court.
But fearing lest my iealous ayme might erre,
And so (vnworthily) disgrace the man
(A rashnesse that I euer yet haue shun'd)
I gaue him gentle lookes, thereby to finde
That which thy selfe hast now disclos'd to me.
And that thou maist perceiue my feare of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soone suggested,
I nightly lodge her in an vpper Towre,
The key whereof, my selfe haue euer kept:
And thence she cannot be conuay'd away

   Pro. Know (noble Lord) they haue deuis'd a meane
How he her chamber-window will ascend,
And with a Corded-ladder fetch her downe:
For which, the youthfull Louer now is gone,
And this way comes he with it presently.
Where (if it please you) you may intercept him.
But (good my Lord) doe it so cunningly
That my discouery be not aimed at:
For, loue of you, not hate vnto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretence

   Duke. Vpon mine Honor, he shall neuer know
That I had any light from thee of this

   Pro. Adiew, my Lord, Sir Valentine is comming

   Duk. Sir Valentine, whether away so fast?
  Val. Please it your Grace, there is a Messenger
That stayes to beare my Letters to my friends,
And I am going to deliuer them

   Duk. Be they of much import?
  Val. The tenure of them doth but signifie
My health, and happy being at your Court

   Duk. Nay then no matter: stay with me a while,
I am to breake with thee of some affaires
That touch me neere: wherein thou must be secret.
'Tis not vnknown to thee, that I haue sought
To match my friend Sir Thurio, to my daughter

   Val. I know it well (my Lord) and sure the Match
Were rich and honourable: besides, the gentleman
Is full of Vertue, Bounty, Worth, and Qualities
Beseeming such a Wife, as your faire daughter:
Cannot your Grace win her to fancie him?
  Duk. No, trust me, She is peeuish, sullen, froward,
Prowd, disobedient, stubborne, lacking duty,
Neither regarding that she is my childe,
Nor fearing me, as if I were her father:
And may I say to thee, this pride of hers
(Vpon aduice) hath drawne my loue from her,
And where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should haue beene cherish'd by her child-like dutie,
I now am full resolu'd to take a wife,
And turne her out, to who will take her in:
Then let her beauty be her wedding dowre:
For me, and my possessions she esteemes not

   Val. What would your Grace haue me to do in this?
  Duk. There is a Lady in Verona heere
Whom I affect: but she is nice, and coy,
And naught esteemes my aged eloquence.
Now therefore would I haue thee to my Tutor
(For long agone I haue forgot to court,
Besides the fashion of the time is chang'd)
How, and which way I may bestow my selfe
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye

   Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words,
Dumbe Iewels often in their silent kinde
More then quicke words, doe moue a womans minde

   Duk. But she did scorne a present that I sent her,
  Val. A woman somtime scorns what best co[n]tents her.
Send her another: neuer giue her ore,
For scorne at first, makes after-loue the more.
If she doe frowne, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more loue in you.
If she doe chide, 'tis not to haue you gone,
For why, the fooles are mad, if left alone.
Take no repulse, what euer she doth say,
For, get you gon, she doth not meane away.
Flatter, and praise, commend, extoll their graces:
Though nere so blacke, say they haue Angells faces,
That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman

   Duk. But she I meane, is promis'd by her friends
Vnto a youthfull Gentleman of worth,
And kept seuerely from resort of men,
That no man hath accesse by day to her

   Val. Why then I would resort to her by night

   Duk. I, but the doores be lockt, and keyes kept safe,
That no man hath recourse to her by night

   Val. What letts but one may enter at her window?
  Duk. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground,
And built so sheluing, that one cannot climbe it
Without apparant hazard of his life

   Val. Why then a Ladder quaintly made of Cords
To cast vp, with a paire of anchoring hookes,
Would serue to scale another Hero's towre,
So bold Leander would aduenture it

   Duk. Now as thou art a Gentleman of blood
Aduise me, where I may haue such a Ladder

   Val. When would you vse it? pray sir, tell me that

   Duk. This very night; for Loue is like a childe
That longs for euery thing that he can come by

   Val. By seauen a clock, ile get you such a Ladder

   Duk But harke thee: I will goe to her alone,
How shall I best conuey the Ladder thither?
  Val. It will be light (my Lord) that you may beare it
Vnder a cloake, that is of any length

   Duk. A cloake as long as thine will serue the turne?
  Val. I my good Lord

   Duk. Then let me see thy cloake,
Ile get me one of such another length

   Val. Why any cloake will serue the turn (my Lord)
  Duk. How shall I fashion me to weare a cloake?
I pray thee let me feele thy cloake vpon me.
What Letter is this same? what's here? to Siluia?
And heere an Engine fit for my proceeding,
Ile be so bold to breake the seale for once.
My thoughts do harbour with my Siluia nightly,
And slaues they are to me, that send them flying.
Oh, could their Master come, and goe as lightly,
Himselfe would lodge where (senceles) they are lying.
My Herald Thoughts, in thy pure bosome rest-them,
While I (their King) that thither them importune
Doe curse the grace, that with such grace hath blest them,
Because my selfe doe want my seruants fortune.
I curse my selfe, for they are sent by me,
That they should harbour where their Lord should be.
What's here? Siluia, this night I will enfranchise thee.
'Tis so: and heere's the Ladder for the purpose.
Why Phaeton (for thou art Merops sonne)
Wilt thou aspire to guide the heauenly Car?
And with thy daring folly burne the world?
Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee?
Goe base Intruder, ouer-weening Slaue,
Bestow thy fawning smiles on equall mates,
And thinke my patience, (more then thy desert)
Is priuiledge for thy departure hence.
Thanke me for this, more then for all the fauors
Which (all too-much) I haue bestowed on thee.
But if thou linger in my Territories
Longer then swiftest expedition
Will giue thee time to leaue our royall Court,
By heauen, my wrath shall farre exceed the loue
I euer bore my daughter, or thy selfe.
Be gone, I will not heare thy vaine excuse,
But as thou lou'st thy life, make speed from hence

   Val. And why not death, rather then liuing torment?
To die, is to be banisht from my selfe,
And Siluia is my selfe: banish'd from her
Is selfe from selfe. A deadly banishment:
What light, is light, if Siluia be not seene?
What ioy is ioy, if Siluia be not by?
Vnlesse it be to thinke that she is by
And feed vpon the shadow of perfection.
Except I be by Siluia in the night,
There is no musicke in the Nightingale.
Vnlesse I looke on Siluia in the day,
There is no day for me to looke vpon.
Shee is my essence, and I leaue to be;
If I be not by her faire influence
Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept aliue.
I flie not death, to flie his deadly doome,
Tarry I heere, I but attend on death,
But flie I hence, I flie away from life

   Pro. Run (boy) run, run, and seeke him out

   Lau. So-hough, Soa hough-
  Pro. What seest thou?
  Lau. Him we goe to finde,
There's not a haire on's head, but 'tis a Valentine

   Pro. Valentine?
  Val. No

   Pro. Who then? his Spirit?
  Val. Neither,
  Pro. What then?
  Val. Nothing

   Lau. Can nothing speake? Master, shall I strike?
  Pro. Who wouldst thou strike?
  Lau. Nothing

   Pro. Villaine, forbeare

   Lau. Why Sir, Ile strike nothing: I pray you

   Pro. Sirha, I say forbeare: friend Valentine, a word

   Val. My eares are stopt, & cannot hear good newes,
So much of bad already hath possest them

   Pro. Then in dumbe silence will I bury mine,
For they are harsh, vn-tuneable, and bad

   Val. Is Siluia dead?
  Pro. No, Valentine

   Val. No Valentine indeed, for sacred Siluia,
Hath she forsworne me?
  Pro. No, Valentine

   Val. No Valentine, if Siluia haue forsworne me.
What is your newes?
  Lau. Sir, there is a proclamation, y you are vanished

   Pro. That thou art banish'd: oh that's the newes,
From hence, from Siluia, and from me thy friend

   Val. Oh, I haue fed vpon this woe already,
And now excesse of it will make me surfet.
Doth Siluia know that I am banish'd?
  Pro. I, I: and she hath offered to the doome
(Which vn-reuerst stands in effectuall force)
A Sea of melting pearle, which some call teares;
Those at her fathers churlish feete she tenderd,
With them vpon her knees, her humble selfe,
Wringing her hands, whose whitenes so became them,
As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
But neither bended knees, pure hands held vp,
Sad sighes, deepe grones, nor siluer-shedding teares
Could penetrate her vncompassionate Sire;
But Valentine, if he be tane, must die.
Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so,
When she for thy repeale was suppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of biding there

   Val. No more: vnles the next word that thou speak'st
Haue some malignant power vpon my life:
If so: I pray thee breath it in mine eare,
As ending Antheme of my endlesse dolor

   Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not helpe,
And study helpe for that which thou lament'st,
Time is the Nurse, and breeder of all good;
Here, if thou stay, thou canst not see thy loue:
Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life:
Hope is a louers staffe, walke hence with that
And manage it, against despairing thoughts:
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence,
Which, being writ to me, shall be deliuer'd
Euen in the milke-white bosome of thy Loue.
The time now serues not to expostulate,
Come, Ile conuey thee through the City-gate.
And ere I part with thee, confer at large
Of all that may concerne thy Loue-affaires:
As thou lou'st Siluia (though not for thy selfe)
Regard thy danger, and along with me

   Val. I pray thee Launce, and if thou seest my Boy
Bid him make haste, and meet me at the North-gate

   Pro. Goe sirha, finde him out: Come Valentine

   Val. Oh my deere Siluia; haplesse Valentine

   Launce. I am but a foole, looke you, and yet I haue
the wit to thinke my Master is a kinde of a knaue: but
that's all one, if he be but one knaue: He liues not now
that knowes me to be in loue, yet I am in loue, but a
Teeme of horse shall not plucke that from me: nor who
'tis I loue: and yet 'tis a woman; but what woman, I
will not tell my selfe: and yet 'tis a Milke-maid: yet 'tis
not a maid: for shee hath had Gossips: yet 'tis a maid,
for she is her Masters maid, and serues for wages. Shee
hath more qualities then a Water-Spaniell, which is
much in a bare Christian: Heere is the Catelog of her
Condition. Inprimis. Shee can fetch and carry: why
a horse can doe no more; nay, a horse cannot fetch, but
onely carry, therefore is shee better then a Iade. Item.
She can milke, looke you, a sweet vertue in a maid with
cleane hands

   Speed. How now Signior Launce? what newes with
your Mastership?
  La. With my Mastership? why, it is at Sea:
  Sp. Well, your old vice still: mistake the word: what
newes then in your paper?
  La. The black'st newes that euer thou heard'st

   Sp. Why man? how blacke?
  La. Why, as blacke as Inke

   Sp. Let me read them?
  La. Fie on thee Iolt-head, thou canst not read

   Sp. Thou lyest: I can

   La. I will try thee: tell me this: who begot thee?
  Sp. Marry, the son of my Grand-father

   La. Oh illiterate loyterer; it was the sonne of thy
Grand-mother: this proues that thou canst not read

   Sp. Come foole, come: try me in thy paper

   La. There: and S[aint]. Nicholas be thy speed

   Sp. Inprimis she can milke

   La. I that she can

   Sp. Item, she brewes good Ale

   La. And thereof comes the prouerbe: (Blessing of
your heart, you brew good Ale.)
  Sp. Item, she can sowe

   La. That's as much as to say (Can she so?)
  Sp. Item she can knit

   La. What neede a man care for a stock with a wench,
When she can knit him a stocke?
  Sp. Item, she can wash and scoure

   La. A speciall vertue: for then shee neede not be
wash'd, and scowr'd

   Sp. Item, she can spin

   La. Then may I set the world on wheeles, when she
can spin for her liuing

   Sp. Item, she hath many namelesse vertues

   La. That's as much as to say Bastard-vertues: that
indeede know not their fathers; and therefore haue no
names

   Sp. Here follow her vices

   La. Close at the heeles of her vertues

   Sp. Item, shee is not to be fasting in respect of her
breath

   La. Well: that fault may be mended with a breakfast:
read on

   Sp. Item, she hath a sweet mouth

   La. That makes amends for her soure breath

   Sp. Item, she doth talke in her sleepe

   La. It's no matter for that; so shee sleepe not in her
talke

   Sp. Item, she is slow in words

   La. Oh villaine, that set this downe among her vices;
To be slow in words, is a womans onely vertue:
I pray thee out with't, and place it for her chiefe vertue

   Sp. Item, she is proud

   La. Out with that too:
It was Eues legacie, and cannot be t'ane from her

   Sp. Item, she hath no teeth

   La. I care not for that neither: because I loue crusts

   Sp. Item, she is curst

   La. Well: the best is, she hath no teeth to bite

   Sp. Item, she will often praise her liquor

   La. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not,
I will; for good things should be praised

   Sp. Item, she is too liberall

   La. Of her tongue she cannot; for that's writ downe
she is slow of: of her purse, shee shall not, for that ile
keepe shut: Now, of another thing shee may, and that
cannot I helpe. Well, proceede

   Sp. Item, shee hath more haire then wit, and more
faults then haires, and more wealth then faults

   La. Stop there: Ile haue her: she was mine, and not
mine, twice or thrice in that last Article: rehearse that
once more

   Sp. Item, she hath more haire then wit

   La. More haire then wit: it may be ile proue it: The
couer of the salt, hides the salt, and therefore it is more
then the salt; the haire that couers the wit, is more
then the wit; for the greater hides the lesse: What's
next?
  Sp. And more faults then haires

   La. That's monstrous: oh that that were out

   Sp. And more wealth then faults

   La. Why that word makes the faults gracious:
Well, ile haue her: and if it be a match, as nothing is
impossible

   Sp. What then?
  La. Why then, will I tell thee, that thy Master staies
for thee at the North gate

   Sp. For me?
  La. For thee? I, who art thou? he hath staid for a better
man then thee

   Sp. And must I goe to him?
  La. Thou must run to him; for thou hast staid so long,
that going will scarce serue the turne

   Sp. Why didst not tell me sooner? 'pox of your loue
Letters

   La. Now will he be swing'd for reading my Letter;
An vnmannerly slaue, that will thrust himselfe into secrets:
Ile after, to reioyce in the boyes correctio[n].

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus.

  Du. Sir Thurio, feare not, but that she will loue you
Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight

   Th. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most,
Forsworne my company, and rail'd at me,
That I am desperate of obtaining her

   Du. This weake impresse of Loue, is as a figure
Trenched in ice, which with an houres heate
Dissolues to water, and doth loose his forme.
A little time will melt her frozen thoughts,
And worthlesse Valentine shall be forgot.
How now sir Protheus, is your countriman
(According to our Proclamation) gon?
  Pro. Gon, my good Lord

   Du. My daughter takes his going grieuously?
  Pro. A little time (my Lord) will kill that griefe

   Du. So I beleeue: but Thurio thinkes not so:
Protheus, the good conceit I hold of thee,
(For thou hast showne some signe of good desert)
Makes me the better to confer with thee

   Pro. Longer then I proue loyall to your Grace,
Let me not liue, to looke vpon your Grace

   Du. Thou know'st how willingly, I would effect
The match betweene sir Thurio, and my daughter?
  Pro. I doe my Lord

   Du. And also, I thinke, thou art not ignorant
How she opposes her against my will?
  Pro. She did my Lord, when Valentine was here

   Du. I, and peruersly, she perseuers so:
What might we doe to make the girle forget
The loue of Valentine, and loue sir Thurio?
  Pro. The best way is, to slander Valentine,
With falsehood, cowardize, and poore discent:
Three things, that women highly hold in hate

   Du. I, but she'll thinke, that it is spoke in hate

   Pro. I, if his enemy deliuer it.
Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken
By one, whom she esteemeth as his friend

   Du. Then you must vndertake to slander him

   Pro. And that (my Lord) I shall be loath to doe:
'Tis an ill office for a Gentleman,
Especially against his very friend

   Du. Where your good word cannot aduantage him,
Your slander neuer can endamage him;
Therefore the office is indifferent,
Being intreated to it by your friend

   Pro. You haue preuail'd (my Lord) if I can doe it
By ought that I can speake in his dispraise,
She shall not long continue loue to him:
But say this weede her loue from Valentine,
It followes not that she will loue sir Thurio

   Th. Therefore, as you vnwinde her loue from him;
Least it should rauell, and be good to none,
You must prouide to bottome it on me:
Which must be done, by praising me as much
As you, in worth dispraise, sir Valentine

   Du. And Protheus, we dare trust you in this kinde,
Because we know (on Valentines report)
You are already loues firme votary,
And cannot soone reuolt, and change your minde.
Vpon this warrant, shall you haue accesse,
Where you, with Siluia, may conferre at large.
For she is lumpish, heauy, mellancholly,
And (for your friends sake) will be glad of you;
Where you may temper her, by your perswasion,
To hate yong Valentine, and loue my friend

   Pro. As much as I can doe, I will effect:
But you sir Thurio, are not sharpe enough:
You must lay Lime, to tangle her desires
By walefull Sonnets, whose composed Rimes
Should be full fraught with seruiceable vowes

   Du. I, much is the force of heauen-bred Poesie

   Pro. Say that vpon the altar of her beauty
You sacrifice your teares, your sighes, your heart:
Write till your inke be dry: and with your teares
Moist it againe: and frame some feeling line,
That may discouer such integrity:
For Orpheus Lute, was strung with Poets sinewes,
Whose golden touch could soften steele and stones;
Make Tygers tame, and huge Leuiathans
Forsake vnsounded deepes, to dance on Sands.
After your dire-lamenting Elegies,
Visit by night your Ladies chamber-window
With some sweet Consort; To their Instruments
Tune a deploring dumpe: the nights dead silence
Will well become such sweet complaining grieuance:
This, or else nothing, will inherit her

   Du. This discipline, showes thou hast bin in loue

   Th. And thy aduice, this night, ile put in practise:
Therefore, sweet Protheus, my direction-giuer,
Let vs into the City presently
To sort some Gentlemen, well skil'd in Musicke.
I haue a Sonnet, that will serue the turne
To giue the on-set to thy good aduise

   Du. About it Gentlemen

   Pro. We'll wait vpon your Grace, till after Supper,
And afterward determine our proceedings

   Du. Euen now about it, I will pardon you.

Exeunt.


Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Valentine, Speed, and certaine Out-lawes.

  1.Outl. Fellowes, stand fast: I see a passenger

   2.Out. If there be ten, shrinke not, but down with 'em

   3.Out. Stand sir, and throw vs that you haue about 'ye.
If not: we'll make you sit, and rifle you

   Sp. Sir we are vndone; these are the Villaines
That all the Trauailers doe feare so much

   Val. My friends

   1.Out. That's not so, sir: we are your enemies

   2.Out. Peace: we'll heare him

   3.Out. I by my beard will we: for he is a proper man

   Val. Then know that I haue little wealth to loose;
A man I am, cross'd with aduersitie:
My riches, are these poore habiliments,
Of which, if you should here disfurnish me,
You take the sum and substance that I haue

   2.Out. Whether trauell you?
  Val. To Verona

   1.Out. Whence came you?
  Val. From Millaine

   3.Out. Haue you long soiourn'd there?
  Val. Some sixteene moneths, and longer might haue staid,
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me

   1.Out. What, were you banish'd thence?
  Val. I was

   2.Out. For what offence?
  Val. For that which now torments me to rehearse;
I kil'd a man, whose death I much repent,
But yet I slew him manfully, in fight,
Without false vantage, or base treachery

   1.Out. Why nere repent it, if it were done so;
But were you banisht for so small a fault?
  Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doome

   2.Out. Haue you the Tongues?
  Val. My youthfull trauaile, therein made me happy,
Or else I often had beene often miserable

   3.Out. By the bare scalpe of Robin Hoods fat Fryer,
This fellow were a King, for our wilde faction

   1.Out. We'll haue him: Sirs, a word

   Sp. Master, be one of them:
It's an honourable kinde of theeuery

   Val. Peace villaine

   2.Out. Tell vs this: haue you any thing to take to?
  Val. Nothing but my fortune

   3.Out. Know then, that some of vs are Gentlemen,
Such as the fury of vngouern'd youth
Thrust from the company of awfull men.
My selfe was from Verona banished,
For practising to steale away a Lady,
And heire and Neece, alide vnto the Duke

   2.Out. And I from Mantua, for a Gentleman,
Who, in my moode, I stab'd vnto the heart

   1.Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as these.
But to the purpose: for we cite our faults,
That they may hold excus'd our lawlesse liues;
And partly seeing you are beautifide
With goodly shape; and by your owne report,
A Linguist, and a man of such perfection,
As we doe in our quality much want

   2.Out. Indeede because you are a banish'd man,
Therefore, aboue the rest, we parley to you:
Are you content to be our Generall?
To make a vertue of necessity,
And liue as we doe in this wildernesse?
  3.Out. What saist thou? wilt thou be of our consort?
Say I, and be the captaine of vs all:
We'll doe thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,
Loue thee, as our Commander, and our King

   1.Out. But if thou scorne our curtesie, thou dyest

   2.Out. Thou shalt not liue, to brag what we haue offer'd

   Val. I take your offer, and will liue with you,
Prouided that you do no outrages
On silly women, or poore passengers

   3.Out. No, we detest such vile base practises.
Come, goe with vs, we'll bring thee to our Crewes,
And show thee all the Treasure we haue got;
Which, with our selues, all rest at thy dispose.

Exeunt.


Scoena Secunda.

Enter Protheus, Thurio, Iulia, Host, Musitian, Siluia.

  Pro. Already haue I bin false to Valentine,
And now I must be as vniust to Thurio,
Vnder the colour of commending him,
I haue accesse my owne loue to prefer.
But Siluia is too faire, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthlesse guifts;
When I protest true loyalty to her,
She twits me with my falsehood to my friend;
When to her beauty I commend my vowes,
She bids me thinke how I haue bin forsworne
In breaking faith with Iulia, whom I lou'd;
And notwithstanding all her sodaine quips,
The least whereof would quell a louers hope:
Yet (Spaniel-like) the more she spurnes my loue,
The more it growes, and fawneth on her still;
But here comes Thurio; now must we to her window,
And giue some euening Musique to her eare

   Th. How now, sir Protheus, are you crept before vs?
  Pro. I gentle Thurio, for you know that loue
Will creepe in seruice, where it cannot goe

   Th. I, but I hope, Sir, that you loue not here

   Pro. Sir, but I doe: or else I would be hence

   Th. Who, Siluia?
  Pro. I, Siluia, for your sake

   Th. I thanke you for your owne: Now Gentlemen
Let's tune: and too it lustily a while

   Ho. Now, my yong guest; me thinks your' allycholly;
I pray you why is it?
  Iu. Marry (mine Host) because I cannot be merry

   Ho. Come, we'll haue you merry: ile bring you where
you shall heare Musique, and see the Gentleman that
you ask'd for

   Iu. But shall I heare him speake

   Ho. I that you shall

   Iu. That will be Musique

   Ho. Harke, harke

   Iu. Is he among these?
  Ho. I: but peace, let's heare'm

   Song. Who is Siluia? what is she?
That all our Swaines commend her?
Holy, faire, and wise is she,
The heauen such grace did lend her,
that she might admired be.
Is she kinde as she is faire?
For beauty liues with kindnesse:
Loue doth to her eyes repaire,
To helpe him of his blindnesse:
And being help'd, inhabits there.
Then to Siluia, let vs sing,
That Siluia is excelling;
She excels each mortall thing
Vpon the dull earth dwelling.
To her let vs Garlands bring

   Ho. How now? are you sadder then you were before;
How doe you, man? the Musicke likes you not

   Iu. You mistake: the Musitian likes me not

   Ho. Why, my pretty youth?
  Iu. He plaies false (father.)
  Ho. How, out of tune on the strings

   Iu. Not so: but yet
So false that he grieues my very heart-strings

   Ho. You haue a quicke eare

   Iu. I, I would I were deafe: it makes me haue a slow heart

   Ho. I perceiue you delight not in Musique

   Iu. Not a whit, when it iars so

   Ho. Harke, what fine change is in the Musique

   Iu. I: that change is the spight

   Ho. You would haue them alwaies play but one thing

   Iu. I would alwaies haue one play but one thing.
But Host, doth this Sir Protheus, that we talke on,
Often resort vnto this Gentlewoman?
  Ho. I tell you what Launce his man told me,
He lou'd her out of all nicke

   Iu. Where is Launce?
  Ho. Gone to seeke his dog, which to morrow, by his
Masters command, hee must carry for a present to his
Lady

   Iu. Peace, stand aside, the company parts

   Pro. Sir Thurio, feare not you, I will so pleade,
That you shall say, my cunning drift excels

   Th. Where meete we?
  Pro. At Saint Gregories well

   Th. Farewell

   Pro. Madam: good eu'n to your Ladiship

   Sil. I thanke you for your Musique (Gentlemen)
Who is that that spake?
  Pro. One (Lady) if you knew his pure hearts truth,
You would quickly learne to know him by his voice

   Sil. Sir Protheus, as I take it

   Pro. Sir Protheus (gentle Lady) and your Seruant

   Sil. What's your will?
  Pro. That I may compasse yours

   Sil. You haue your wish: my will is euen this,
That presently you hie you home to bed:
Thou subtile, periur'd, false, disloyall man:
Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitlesse,
To be seduced by thy flattery,
That has't deceiu'd so many with thy vowes?
Returne, returne, and make thy loue amends:
For me (by this pale queene of night I sweare)
I am so farre from granting thy request,
That I despise thee, for thy wrongfull suite;
And by and by intend to chide my selfe,
Euen for this time I spend in talking to thee

   Pro. I grant (sweet loue) that I did loue a Lady,
But she is dead

   Iu. 'Twere false, if I should speake it;
For I am sure she is not buried

   Sil. Say that she be: yet Valentine thy friend
Suruiues; to whom (thy selfe art witnesse)
I am betroth'd; and art thou not asham'd
To wrong him, with thy importunacy?
  Pro. I likewise heare that Valentine is dead

   Sil. And so suppose am I; for in her graue
Assure thy selfe, my loue is buried

   Pro. Sweet Lady, let me rake it from the earth

   Sil. Goe to thy Ladies graue and call hers thence,
Or at the least, in hers, sepulcher thine

   Iul. He heard not that

   Pro. Madam: if your heart be so obdurate:
Vouchsafe me yet your Picture for my loue,
The Picture that is hanging in your chamber:
To that ile speake, to that ile sigh and weepe:
For since the substance of your perfect selfe
Is else deuoted, I am but a shadow;
And to your shadow, will I make true loue

   Iul. If 'twere a substance you would sure deceiue it,
And make it but a shadow, as I am

   Sil. I am very loath to be your Idoll Sir;
But, since your falsehood shall become you well
To worship shadowes, and adore false shapes,
Send to me in the morning, and ile send it:
And so, good rest

   Pro. As wretches haue ore-night
That wait for execution in the morne

   Iul. Host, will you goe?
  Ho. By my hallidome, I was fast asleepe

   Iul. Pray you, where lies Sir Protheus?
  Ho. Marry, at my house:
Trust me, I thinke 'tis almost day

   Iul. Not so: but it hath bin the longest night
That ere I watch'd, and the most heauiest.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Eglamore, Siluia.

  Eg. This is the houre that Madam Siluia
Entreated me to call, and know her minde:
Ther's some great matter she'ld employ me in.
Madam, Madam

   Sil. Who cals?
  Eg. Your seruant, and your friend;
One that attends your Ladiships command

   Sil. Sir Eglamore, a thousand times good morrow

   Eg. As many (worthy Lady) to your selfe:
According to your Ladiships impose,
I am thus early come, to know what seruice
It is your pleasure to command me in

   Sil. Oh Eglamoure, thou art a Gentleman:
Thinke not I flatter (for I sweare I doe not)
Valiant, wise, remorse-full, well accomplish'd.
Thou art not ignorant what deere good will
I beare vnto the banish'd Valentine:
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vaine Thurio (whom my very soule abhor'd.)
Thy selfe hast lou'd, and I haue heard thee say
No griefe did euer come so neere thy heart,
As when thy Lady, and thy true-loue dide,
Vpon whose Graue thou vow'dst pure chastitie:
Sir Eglamoure: I would to Valentine
To Mantua, where I heare, he makes aboad;
And for the waies are dangerous to passe,
I doe desire thy worthy company,
Vpon whose faith and honor, I repose.
Vrge not my fathers anger (Eglamoure)
But thinke vpon my griefe (a Ladies griefe)
And on the iustice of my flying hence,
To keepe me from a most vnholy match,
Which heauen and fortune still rewards with plagues.
I doe desire thee, euen from a heart
As full of sorrowes, as the Sea of sands,
To beare me company, and goe with me:
If not, to hide what I haue said to thee,
That I may venture to depart alone

   Egl. Madam, I pitty much your grieuances,
Which, since I know they vertuously are plac'd,
I giue consent to goe along with you,
Wreaking as little what betideth me,
As much, I wish all good befortune you.
When will you goe?
  Sil. This euening comming

   Eg. Where shall I meete you?
  Sil. At Frier Patrickes Cell,
Where I intend holy Confession

   Eg. I will not faile your Ladiship:
Good morrow (gentle Lady.)
  Sil. Good morrow, kinde Sir Eglamoure.

Exeunt.


Scena Quarta.

Enter Launce, Protheus, Iulia, Siluia.

  Lau. When a mans seruant shall play the Curre with
him (looke you) it goes hard: one that I brought vp of
a puppy: one that I sau'd from drowning, when three or
foure of his blinde brothers and sisters went to it: I haue
taught him (euen as one would say precisely, thus I
would teach a dog) I was sent to deliuer him, as a present
to Mistris Siluia, from my Master; and I came no
sooner into the dyning-chamber, but he steps me to her
Trencher, and steales her Capons-leg: O, 'tis a foule
thing, when a Cur cannot keepe himselfe in all companies:
I would haue (as one should say) one that takes vpon
him to be a dog indeede, to be, as it were, a dog at all
things. If I had not had more wit then he, to take a fault
vpon me that he did, I thinke verily hee had bin hang'd
for't: sure as I liue he had suffer'd for't: you shall iudge:
Hee thrusts me himselfe into the company of three or
foure gentleman-like-dogs, vnder the Dukes table: hee
had not bin there (blesse the marke) a pissing while, but
all the chamber smelt him: out with the dog (saies one)
what cur is that (saies another) whip him out (saies the
third) hang him vp (saies the Duke.) I hauing bin acquainted
with the smell before, knew it was Crab; and
goes me to the fellow that whips the dogges: friend
(quoth I) you meane to whip the dog: I marry doe I
(quoth he) you doe him the more wrong (quoth I) 'twas
I did the thing you wot of: he makes me no more adoe,
but whips me out of the chamber: how many Masters
would doe this for his Seruant? nay, ile be sworne I haue
sat in the stockes, for puddings he hath stolne, otherwise
he had bin executed: I haue stood on the Pillorie for
Geese he hath kil'd, otherwise he had sufferd for't: thou
think'st not of this now: nay, I remember the tricke you
seru'd me, when I tooke my leaue of Madam Siluia: did
not I bid thee still marke me, and doe as I do; when did'st
thou see me heaue vp my leg, and make water against a
Gentlewomans farthingale? did'st thou euer see me doe
such a tricke?
  Pro. Sebastian is thy name: I like thee well,
And will imploy thee in some seruice presently

   Iu. In what you please, ile doe what I can

   Pro. I hope thou wilt.
How now you whorson pezant,
Where haue you bin these two dayes loytering?
  La. Marry Sir, I carried Mistris Siluia the dogge you
bad me

   Pro. And what saies she to my little Iewell?
  La. Marry she saies your dog was a cur, and tels you
currish thanks is good enough for such a present

   Pro. But she receiu'd my dog?
  La. No indeede did she not:
Here haue I brought him backe againe

   Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me?
  La. I Sir, the other Squirrill was stolne from me
By the Hangmans boyes in the market place,
And then I offer'd her mine owne, who is a dog
As big as ten of yours, & therefore the guift the greater

   Pro. Goe, get thee hence, and finde my dog againe,
Or nere returne againe into my sight.
Away, I say: stayest thou to vexe me here;
A Slaue, that still an end, turnes me to shame:
Sebastian, I haue entertained thee,
Partly that I haue neede of such a youth,
That can with some discretion doe my businesse:
For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish Lowt;
But chiefely, for thy face, and thy behauiour,
Which (if my Augury deceiue me not)
Witnesse good bringing vp, fortune, and truth:
Therefore know thee, for this I entertaine thee.
Go presently, and take this Ring with thee,
Deliuer it to Madam Siluia;
She lou'd me well, deliuer'd it to me

   Iul. It seemes you lou'd not her, not leaue her token:
She is dead belike?
  Pro. Not so: I thinke she liues

   Iul. Alas

   Pro. Why do'st thou cry alas?
  Iul. I cannot choose but pitty her

   Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pitty her?
  Iul. Because, me thinkes that she lou'd you as well
As you doe loue your Lady Siluia:
She dreames on him, that has forgot her loue,
You doate on her, that cares not for your loue.
'Tis pitty Loue, should be so contrary:
And thinking on it, makes me cry alas

   Pro. Well: giue her that Ring, and therewithall
This Letter: that's her chamber: Tell my Lady,
I claime the promise for her heauenly Picture:
Your message done, hye home vnto my chamber,
Where thou shalt finde me sad, and solitarie

   Iul. How many women would doe such a message?
Alas poore Protheus, thou hast entertain'd
A Foxe, to be the Shepheard of thy Lambs;
Alas, poore foole, why doe I pitty him
That with his very heart despiseth me?
Because he loues her, he despiseth me,
Because I loue him, I must pitty him.
This Ring I gaue him, when he parted from me,
To binde him to remember my good will:
And now am I (vnhappy Messenger)
To plead for that, which I would not obtaine;
To carry that, which I would haue refus'd;
To praise his faith, which I would haue disprais'd.
I am my Masters true confirmed Loue,
But cannot be true seruant to my Master,
Vnlesse I proue false traitor to my selfe.
Yet will I woe for him, but yet so coldly,
As (heauen it knowes) I would not haue him speed.
Gentlewoman, good day: I pray you be my meane
To bring me where to speake with Madam Siluia

   Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she?
  Iul. If you be she, I doe intreat your patience
To heare me speake the message I am sent on

   Sil. From whom?
  Iul. From my Master, Sir Protheus, Madam

   Sil. Oh: he sends you for a Picture?
  Iul. I, Madam

   Sil. Vrsula, bring my Picture there,
Goe, giue your Master this: tell him from me,
One Iulia, that his changing thoughts forget
Would better fit his Chamber, then this Shadow

   Iul. Madam, please you peruse this Letter;
Pardon me (Madam) I haue vnaduis'd
Deliuer'd you a paper that I should not;
This is the Letter to your Ladiship

   Sil. I pray thee let me looke on that againe

   Iul. It may not be: good Madam pardon me

   Sil. There, hold:
I will not looke vpon your Masters lines:
I know they are stuft with protestations,
And full of new-found oathes, which he will breake
As easily, as I doe teare his paper

   Iul. Madam, he sends your Ladiship this Ring

   Sil. The more shame for him, that he sends it me;
For I haue heard him say a thousand times,
His Iulia gaue it him, at his departure:
Though his false finger haue prophan'd the Ring,
Mine shall not doe his Iulia so much wrong

   Iul. She thankes you

   Sil. What sai'st thou?
  Iul. I thanke you Madam, that you tender her:
Poore Gentlewoman, my Master wrongs her much

   Sil. Do'st thou know her?
  Iul. Almost as well as I doe know my selfe.
To thinke vpon her woes, I doe protest
That I haue wept a hundred seuerall times

   Sil. Belike she thinks that Protheus hath forsook her?
  Iul. I thinke she doth: and that's her cause of sorrow

   Sil. Is she not passing faire?
  Iul. She hath bin fairer (Madam) then she is,
When she did thinke my Master lou'd her well;
She, in my iudgement, was as faire as you.
But since she did neglect her looking-glasse,
And threw her Sun-expelling Masque away,
The ayre hath staru'd the roses in her cheekes,
And pinch'd the lilly-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as blacke as I

   Sil. How tall was she?
  Iul. About my stature: for at Pentecost,
When all our Pageants of delight were plaid,
Our youth got me to play the womans part,
And I was trim'd in Madam Iulias gowne,
Which serued me as fit, by all mens iudgements,
As if the garment had bin made for me:
Therefore I know she is about my height,
And at that time I made her weepe a good,
For I did play a lamentable part.
(Madam) 'twas Ariadne, passioning
For Thesus periury, and vniust flight;
Which I so liuely acted with my teares:
That my poore Mistris moued therewithall,
Wept bitterly: and would I might be dead,
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow

   Sil. She is beholding to thee (gentle youth)
Alas (poore Lady) desolate, and left;
I weepe my selfe to thinke vpon thy words:
Here youth: there is my purse; I giue thee this
For thy sweet Mistris sake, because thou lou'st her. Farewell

   Iul. And she shall thanke you for't, if ere you know her.
A vertuous gentlewoman, milde, and beautifull.
I hope my Masters suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my Mistris loue so much.
Alas, how loue can trifle with it selfe:
Here is her Picture: let me see, I thinke
If I had such a Tyre, this face of mine
Were full as louely, as is this of hers;
And yet the Painter flatter'd her a little,
Vnlesse I flatter with my selfe too much.
Her haire is Aburne, mine is perfect Yellow;
If that be all the difference in his loue,
Ile get me such a coulour'd Perrywig:
Her eyes are grey as glasse, and so are mine.
I, but her fore-head's low, and mine's as high:
What should it be that he respects in her,
But I can make respectiue in my selfe?
If this fond Loue, were not a blinded god.
Come shadow, come, and take this shadow vp,
For 'tis thy riuall: O thou sencelesse forme,
Thou shalt be worship'd, kiss'd, lou'd, and ador'd;
And were there sence in his Idolatry,
My substance should be statue in thy stead.
Ile vse thee kindly, for thy Mistris sake
That vs'd me so: or else by Ioue, I vow,
I should haue scratch'd out your vnseeing eyes,
To make my Master out of loue with thee.

Exeunt.


Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Eglamoure, Siluia.

  Egl. The Sun begins to guild the westerne skie,
And now it is about the very houre
That Siluia, at Fryer Patricks Cell should meet me,
She will not faile; for Louers breake not houres,
Vnlesse it be to come before their time,
So much they spur their expedition.
See where she comes: Lady a happy euening

   Sil. Amen, Amen: goe on (good Eglamoure)
Out at the Posterne by the Abbey wall;
I feare I am attended by some Spies

   Egl. Feare not: the Forrest is not three leagues off,
If we recouer that, we are sure enough.

Exeunt.


Scoena Secunda.

Enter Thurio, Protheus, Iulia, Duke.

  Th. Sir Protheus, what saies Siluia to my suit?
  Pro. Oh Sir, I finde her milder then she was,
And yet she takes exceptions at your person

   Thu. What? that my leg is too long?
  Pro. No, that it is too little

   Thu. Ile weare a Boote, to make it somewhat rounder

   Pro. But loue will not be spurd to what it loathes

   Thu. What saies she to my face?
  Pro. She saies it is a faire one

   Thu. Nay then the wanton lyes: my face is blacke

   Pro. But Pearles are faire; and the old saying is,
Blacke men are Pearles, in beauteous Ladies eyes

   Thu. 'Tis true, such Pearles as put out Ladies eyes,
For I had rather winke, then looke on them

   Thu. How likes she my discourse?
  Pro. Ill, when you talke of war

   Thu. But well, when I discourse of loue and peace

   Iul. But better indeede, when you hold you peace

   Thu. What sayes she to my valour?
  Pro. Oh Sir, she makes no doubt of that

   Iul. She needes not, when she knowes it cowardize

   Thu. What saies she to my birth?
  Pro. That you are well deriu'd

   Iul. True: from a Gentleman, to a foole

   Thu. Considers she my Possessions?
  Pro. Oh, I: and pitties them

   Thu. Wherefore?
  Iul. That such an Asse should owe them

   Pro. That they are out by Lease

   Iul. Here comes the Duke

   Du. How now sir Protheus; how now Thurio?
Which of you saw Eglamoure of late?
  Thu. Not I

   Pro. Nor I

   Du. Saw you my daughter?
  Pro. Neither

   Du. Why then
She's fled vnto that pezant, Valentine;
And Eglamoure is in her Company:
'Tis true: for Frier Laurence met them both
As he, in pennance wander'd through the Forrest:
Him he knew well: and guesd that it was she,
But being mask'd, he was not sure of it.
Besides she did intend Confession
At Patricks Cell this euen, and there she was not.
These likelihoods confirme her flight from hence;
Therefore I pray you stand, not to discourse,
But mount you presently, and meete with me
Vpon the rising of the Mountaine foote
That leads toward Mantua, whether they are fled:
Dispatch (sweet Gentlemen) and follow me

   Thu. Why this it is, to be a peeuish Girle,
That flies her fortune when it followes her:
Ile after; more to be reueng'd on Eglamoure,
Then for the loue of reck-lesse Siluia

   Pro. And I will follow, more for Siluias loue
Then hate of Eglamoure that goes with her

   Iul. And I will follow, more to crosse that loue
Then hate for Siluia, that is gone for loue.

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.


Siluia, Outlawes.

  1.Out. Come, come be patient:
We must bring you to our Captaine

   Sil. A thousand more mischances then this one
Haue learn'd me how to brooke this patiently

   2 Out. Come, bring her away

   1 Out. Where is the Gentleman that was with her?
  3 Out. Being nimble footed, he hath out-run vs.
But Moyses and Valerius follow him:
Goe thou with her to the West end of the wood,
There is our Captaine: Wee'll follow him that's fled,
The Thicket is beset, he cannot scape

   1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our Captains caue.
Feare not: he beares an honourable minde,
And will not vse a woman lawlesly

   Sil. O Valentine: this I endure for thee.

Exeunt.


Scoena Quarta.

Enter Valentine, Protheus, Siluia, Iulia, Duke, Thurio, Outlawes.

  Val. How vse doth breed a habit in a man?
This shadowy desart, vnfrequented woods
I better brooke then flourishing peopled Townes:
Here can I sit alone, vn-seene of any,
And to the Nightingales complaining Notes
Tune my distresses, and record my woes.
O thou that dost inhabit in my brest,
Leaue not the Mansion so long Tenant-lesse,
Lest growing ruinous, the building fall,
And leaue no memory of what it was,
Repaire me, with thy presence, Siluia:
Thou gentle Nimph, cherish thy forlorne swaine.
What hallowing, and what stir is this to day?
These are my mates, that make their wills their Law,
Haue some vnhappy passenger in chace;
They loue me well: yet I haue much to doe
To keepe them from vnciuill outrages.
Withdraw thee Valentine: who's this comes heere?
  Pro. Madam, this seruice I haue done for you
(Though you respect not aught your seruant doth)
To hazard life, and reskew you from him,
That would haue forc'd your honour, and your loue,
Vouchsafe me for my meed, but one faire looke:
(A smaller boone then this I cannot beg,
And lesse then this, I am sure you cannot giue.)
  Val. How like a dreame is this? I see, and heare:
Loue, lend me patience to forbeare a while

   Sil. O miserable, vnhappy that I am

   Pro. Vnhappy were you (Madam) ere I came:
But by my comming, I haue made you happy

   Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me most vnhappy

   Iul. And me, when he approcheth to your presence

   Sil. Had I beene ceazed by a hungry Lion,
I would haue beene a breakfast to the Beast,
Rather then haue false Protheus reskue me:
Oh heauen be iudge how I loue Valentine,
Whose life's as tender to me as my soule,
And full as much (for more there cannot be)
I doe detest false periur'd Protheus:
Therefore be gone, sollicit me no more

   Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death
Would I not vndergoe, for one calme looke:
Oh 'tis the curse in Loue, and still approu'd
When women cannot loue, where they're belou'd

   Sil. When Protheus cannot loue, where he's belou'd:
Read ouer Iulia's heart, (thy first best Loue)
For whose deare sake, thou didst then rend thy faith
Into a thousand oathes; and all those oathes,
Descended into periury, to loue me,
Thou hast no faith left now, vnlesse thou'dst two,
And that's farre worse then none: better haue none
Then plurall faith, which is too much by one:
Thou Counterfeyt, to thy true friend

   Pro. In Loue,
Who respects friend?
  Sil. All men but Protheus

   Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of mouing words
Can no way change you to a milder forme;
Ile wooe you like a Souldier, at armes end,
And loue you 'gainst the nature of Loue: force ye

   Sil. Oh heauen

   Pro. Ile force thee yeeld to my desire

   Val. Ruffian: let goe that rude vnciuill touch,
Thou friend of an ill fashion

   Pro. Valentine

   Val. Thou co[m]mon friend, that's without faith or loue,
For such is a friend now: treacherous man,
Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye
Could haue perswaded me: now I dare not say
I haue one friend aliue; thou wouldst disproue me:
Who should be trusted, when ones right hand
Is periured to the bosome? Protheus
I am sorry I must neuer trust thee more,
But count the world a stranger for thy sake:
The priuate wound is deepest: oh time, most accurst.
'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst?
  Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me:
Forgiue me Valentine: if hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient Ransome for offence,
I tender't heere: I doe as truely suffer,
As ere I did commit

   Val. Then I am paid:
And once againe, I doe receiue thee honest;
Who by Repentance is not satisfied,
Is nor of heauen, nor earth; for these are pleas'd:
By Penitence th' Eternalls wrath's appeas'd:
And that my loue may appeare plaine and free,
All that was mine, in Siluia, I giue thee

   Iul. Oh me vnhappy

   Pro. Looke to the Boy

   Val. Why, Boy?
Why wag: how now? what's the matter? look vp: speak

   Iul. O good sir, my master charg'd me to deliuer a ring
to Madam Siluia: w (out of my neglect) was neuer done

   Pro. Where is that ring? boy?
  Iul. Heere 'tis: this is it

   Pro. How? let me see.
Why this is the ring I gaue to Iulia

   Iul. Oh, cry you mercy sir, I haue mistooke:
This is the ring you sent to Siluia

   Pro. But how cam'st thou by this ring? at my depart
I gaue this vnto Iulia

   Iul. And Iulia her selfe did giue it me,
And Iulia her selfe hath brought it hither

   Pro. How? Iulia?
  Iul. Behold her, that gaue ayme to all thy oathes,
And entertain'd 'em deepely in her heart.
How oft hast thou with periury cleft the roote?
Oh Protheus, let this habit make thee blush.
Be thou asham'd that I haue tooke vpon me,
Such an immodest rayment; if shame liue
In a disguise of loue?
It is the lesser blot modesty findes,
Women to change their shapes, then men their minds

   Pro. Then men their minds? tis true: oh heuen, were man
But Constant, he were perfect; that one error
Fils him with faults: makes him run through all th' sins;
Inconstancy falls-off, ere it begins:
What is in Siluia's face, but I may spie
More fresh in Iulia's, with a constant eye?
  Val. Come, come: a hand from either:
Let me be blest to make this happy close:
'Twere pitty two such friends should be long foes

   Pro. Beare witnes (heauen) I haue my wish for euer

   Iul. And I mine

   Outl. A prize: a prize: a prize

   Val. Forbeare, forbeare I say: It is my Lord the Duke.
Your Grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd,
Banished Valentine

   Duke. Sir Valentine?
  Thu. Yonder is Siluia: and Siluia's mine

   Val. Thurio giue backe; or else embrace thy death:
Come not within the measure of my wrath:
Doe not name Siluia thine: if once againe,
Verona shall not hold thee: heere she stands,
Take but possession of her, with a Touch:
I dare thee, but to breath vpon my Loue

   Thur. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I:
I hold him but a foole that will endanger
His Body, for a Girle that loues him not:
I claime her not, and therefore she is thine

   Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou
To make such meanes for her, as thou hast done,
And leaue her on such slight conditions.
Now, by the honor of my Ancestry,
I doe applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
And thinke thee worthy of an Empresse loue:
Know then, I heere forget all former greefes,
Cancell all grudge, repeale thee home againe,
Plead a new state in thy vn-riual'd merit,
To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine,
Thou art a Gentleman, and well deriu'd,
Take thou thy Siluia, for thou hast deseru'd her

   Val. I thank your Grace, y gift hath made me happy:
I now beseech you (for your daughters sake)
To grant one Boone that I shall aske of you

   Duke. I grant it (for thine owne) what ere it be

   Val. These banish'd men, that I haue kept withall,
Are men endu'd with worthy qualities:
Forgiue them what they haue committed here,
And let them be recall'd from their Exile:
They are reformed, ciuill, full of good,
And fit for great employment (worthy Lord.)
  Duke. Thou hast preuaild, I pardon them and thee:
Dispose of them, as thou knowst their deserts.
Come, let vs goe, we will include all iarres,
With Triumphes, Mirth, and rare solemnity

   Val. And as we walke along, I dare be bold
With our discourse, to make your Grace to smile.
What thinke you of this Page (my Lord?)
  Duke. I think the Boy hath grace in him, he blushes

   Val. I warrant you (my Lord) more grace, then Boy

   Duke. What meane you by that saying?
  Val. Please you, Ile tell you, as we passe along,
That you will wonder what hath fortuned:
Come Protheus, 'tis your pennance, but to heare
The story of your Loues discouered.
That done, our day of marriage shall be yours,
One Feast, one house, one mutuall happinesse.

Exeunt.


The names of all the Actors.

 Duke: Father to Siluia.
 Valentine.
 Protheus. the two Gentlemen.
 Anthonio: father to Protheus.
 Thurio: a foolish riuall to Valentine.
 Eglamoure: Agent for Siluia in her escape.
 Host: where Iulia lodges.
 Outlawes with Valentine.
 Speed: a clownish seruant to Valentine.
 Launce: the like to Protheus.
 Panthion: seruant to Antonio.
 Iulia: beloued of Protheus.
 Siluia: beloued of Valentine.
 Lucetta: waighting-woman to Iulia.

FINIS. THE Two Gentlemen of Verona.

The Merry Wiues of Windsor

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Enter Iustice Shallow, Slender, Sir Hugh Euans, Master Page,
Falstoffe,
Bardolph, Nym, Pistoll, Anne Page, Mistresse Ford, Mistresse
Page, Simple.


  Shallow. Sir Hugh, perswade me not: I will make a StarChamber
matter of it, if hee were twenty Sir
Iohn Falstoffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow
Esquire

   Slen. In the County of Glocester, Iustice of Peace and Coram

   Shal. I (Cosen Slender) and Custalorum

   Slen. I, and Ratolorum too; and a Gentleman borne
(Master Parson) who writes himselfe Armigero, in any
Bill, Warrant, Quittance, or Obligation, Armigero

   Shal. I that I doe, and haue done any time these three
hundred yeeres

   Slen. All his successors (gone before him) hath don't:
and all his Ancestors (that come after him) may: they
may giue the dozen white Luces in their Coate

   Shal. It is an olde Coate

   Euans. The dozen white Lowses doe become an old
Coat well: it agrees well passant: It is a familiar beast to
man, and signifies Loue

   Shal. The Luse is the fresh-fish, the salt-fish, is an old
Coate

   Slen. I may quarter (Coz)

   Shal. You may, by marrying

   Euans. It is marring indeed, if he quarter it

   Shal. Not a whit

   Euan. Yes per-lady: if he ha's a quarter of your coat,
there is but three Skirts for your selfe, in my simple coniectures;
but that is all one: if Sir Iohn Falstaffe haue
committed disparagements vnto you, I am of the Church
and will be glad to do my beneuolence, to make attonements
and compremises betweene you

   Shal. The Councell shall heare it, it is a Riot

   Euan. It is not meet the Councell heare a Riot: there
is no feare of Got in a Riot: The Councell (looke you)
shall desire to heare the feare of Got, and not to heare a
Riot: take your vizaments in that

   Shal. Ha; o'my life, if I were yong againe, the sword
should end it

   Euans. It is petter that friends is the sword, and end
it: and there is also another deuice in my praine, which
peraduenture prings goot discretions with it. There is
Anne Page, which is daughter to Master Thomas Page,
which is pretty virginity

   Slen. Mistris Anne Page? she has browne haire, and
speakes small like a woman

   Euans. It is that ferry person for all the orld, as iust as
you will desire, and seuen hundred pounds of Moneyes,
and Gold, and Siluer, is her Grand-sire vpon his deathsbed,
(Got deliuer to a ioyfull resurrections) giue, when
she is able to ouertake seuenteene yeeres old. It were a
goot motion, if we leaue our pribbles and prabbles, and
desire a marriage betweene Master Abraham, and Mistris
Anne Page

   Slen. Did her Grand-sire leaue her seauen hundred
pound?
  Euan. I, and her father is make her a petter penny

   Slen. I know the young Gentlewoman, she has good
gifts

   Euan. Seuen hundred pounds, and possibilities, is
goot gifts

   Shal. Wel, let vs see honest Mr Page: is Falstaffe there?
  Euan. Shall I tell you a lye? I doe despise a lyer, as I
doe despise one that is false, or as I despise one that is not
true: the Knight Sir Iohn is there, and I beseech you be
ruled by your well-willers: I will peat the doore for Mr.
Page. What hoa? Got-plesse your house heere

   Mr.Page. Who's there?
  Euan. Here is go't's plessing and your friend, and Iustice
Shallow, and heere yong Master Slender: that peraduentures
shall tell you another tale, if matters grow to
your likings

   Mr.Page. I am glad to see your Worships well: I
thanke you for my Venison Master Shallow

   Shal. Master Page, I am glad to see you: much good
doe it your good heart: I wish'd your Venison better, it
was ill killd: how doth good Mistresse Page? and I thank
you alwaies with my heart, la: with my heart

   M.Page. Sir, I thanke you

   Shal. Sir, I thanke you: by yea, and no I doe

   M.Pa. I am glad to see you, good Master Slender

   Slen. How do's your fallow Greyhound, Sir, I heard
say he was out-run on Cotsall

   M.Pa. It could not be iudg'd, Sir

   Slen. You'll not confesse: you'll not confesse

   Shal. That he will not, 'tis your fault, 'tis your fault:
'tis a good dogge

   M.Pa. A Cur, Sir

   Shal. Sir: hee's a good dog, and a faire dog, can there
be more said? he is good, and faire. Is Sir Iohn Falstaffe
heere?
  M.Pa. Sir, hee is within: and I would I could doe a
good office betweene you

   Euan. It is spoke as a Christians ought to speake

   Shal. He hath wrong'd me (Master Page.)
  M.Pa. Sir, he doth in some sort confesse it

   Shal. If it be confessed, it is not redressed; is not that
so (M[aster]. Page?) he hath wrong'd me, indeed he hath, at a
word he hath: beleeue me, Robert Shallow Esquire, saith
he is wronged

   Ma.Pa. Here comes Sir Iohn

   Fal. Now, Master Shallow, you'll complaine of me to
the King?
  Shal. Knight, you haue beaten my men, kill'd my
deere, and broke open my Lodge

   Fal. But not kiss'd your Keepers daughter?
  Shal. Tut, a pin: this shall be answer'd

   Fal. I will answere it strait, I haue done all this:
That is now answer'd

   Shal. The Councell shall know this

   Fal. 'Twere better for you if it were known in councell:
you'll be laugh'd at

   Eu. Pauca verba; (Sir Iohn) good worts

   Fal. Good worts? good Cabidge; Slender, I broke
your head: what matter haue you against me?
  Slen. Marry sir, I haue matter in my head against you,
and against your cony-catching Rascalls, Bardolf, Nym,
and Pistoll

   Bar. You Banbery Cheese

   Slen. I, it is no matter

   Pist. How now, Mephostophilus?
  Slen. I, it is no matter

   Nym. Slice, I say; pauca, pauca: Slice, that's my humor

   Slen. Where's Simple my man? can you tell, Cosen?
  Eua. Peace, I pray you: now let vs vnderstand: there
is three Vmpires in this matter, as I vnderstand; that is,
Master Page (fidelicet Master Page,) & there is my selfe,
(fidelicet my selfe) and the three party is (lastly, and finally)
mine Host of the Garter

   Ma.Pa. We three to hear it, & end it between them

   Euan. Ferry goo't, I will make a priefe of it in my
note-booke, and we wil afterwards orke vpon the cause,
with as great discreetly as we can

   Fal. Pistoll

   Pist. He heares with eares

   Euan. The Teuill and his Tam: what phrase is this?
he heares with eare? why, it is affectations

   Fal. Pistoll, did you picke M[aster]. Slenders purse?
  Slen. I, by these gloues did hee, or I would I might
neuer come in mine owne great chamber againe else, of
seauen groates in mill-sixpences, and two Edward Shouelboords,
that cost me two shilling and two pence a
peece of Yead Miller: by these gloues

   Fal. Is this true, Pistoll?
  Euan. No, it is false, if it is a picke-purse

   Pist. Ha, thou mountaine Forreyner: Sir Iohn, and
Master mine, I combat challenge of this Latine Bilboe:
word of deniall in thy labras here; word of denial; froth,
and scum thou liest

   Slen. By these gloues, then 'twas he

   Nym. Be auis'd sir, and passe good humours: I will
say marry trap with you, if you runne the nut-hooks humor
on me, that is the very note of it

   Slen. By this hat, then he in the red face had it: for
though I cannot remember what I did when you made
me drunke, yet I am not altogether an asse

   Fal. What say you Scarlet, and Iohn?
  Bar. Why sir, (for my part) I say the Gentleman had
drunke himselfe out of his fiue sentences

   Eu. It is his fiue sences: fie, what the ignorance is

   Bar. And being fap, sir, was (as they say) casheerd: and
so conclusions past the Careires

   Slen. I, you spake in Latten then to: but 'tis no matter;
Ile nere be drunk whilst I liue againe, but in honest,
ciuill, godly company for this tricke: if I be drunke, Ile
be drunke with those that haue the feare of God, and not
with drunken knaues

   Euan. So got-udge me, that is a vertuous minde

   Fal. You heare all these matters deni'd, Gentlemen;
you heare it

   Mr.Page. Nay daughter, carry the wine in, wee'll
drinke within

   Slen. Oh heauen: This is Mistresse Anne Page

   Mr.Page. How now Mistris Ford?
  Fal. Mistris Ford, by my troth you are very wel met:
by your leaue good Mistris

   Mr.Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome: come,
we haue a hot Venison pasty to dinner; Come gentlemen,
I hope we shall drinke downe all vnkindnesse

   Slen. I had rather then forty shillings I had my booke
of Songs and Sonnets heere: How now Simple, where
haue you beene? I must wait on my selfe, must I? you
haue not the booke of Riddles about you, haue you?
  Sim. Booke of Riddles? why did you not lend it to
Alice Short-cake vpon Alhallowmas last, a fortnight afore
Michaelmas

   Shal. Come Coz, come Coz, we stay for you: a word
with you Coz: marry this, Coz: there is as 'twere a tender,
a kinde of tender, made a farre-off by Sir Hugh here:
doe you vnderstand me?
  Slen. I Sir, you shall finde me reasonable; if it be so,
I shall doe that that is reason

   Shal. Nay, but vnderstand me

   Slen. So I doe Sir

   Euan. Giue eare to his motions; (Mr. Slender) I will
description the matter to you, if you be capacity of it

   Slen. Nay, I will doe as my Cozen Shallow saies: I
pray you pardon me, he's a Iustice of Peace in his Countrie,
simple though I stand here

   Euan. But that is not the question: the question is
concerning your marriage

   Shal. I, there's the point Sir

   Eu. Marry is it: the very point of it, to Mi[stris]. An Page

   Slen. Why if it be so; I will marry her vpon any reasonable
demands

   Eu. But can you affection the 'oman, let vs command
to know that of your mouth, or of your lips: for diuers
Philosophers hold, that the lips is parcell of the mouth:
therfore precisely, ca[n] you carry your good wil to y maid?
  Sh. Cosen Abraham Slender, can you loue her?
  Slen. I hope sir, I will do as it shall become one that
would doe reason

   Eu. Nay, got's Lords, and his Ladies, you must speake
possitable, if you can carry-her your desires towards her

   Shal. That you must:
Will you, (vpon good dowry) marry her?
  Slen. I will doe a greater thing then that, vpon your
request (Cosen) in any reason

   Shal. Nay conceiue me, conceiue mee, (sweet Coz):
What I doe is to pleasure you (Coz:) can you loue the
maid?
  Slen. I will marry her (Sir) at your request; but if
there bee no great loue in the beginning, yet Heauen
may decrease it vpon better acquaintance, when wee
are married, and haue more occasion to know one another:
I hope vpon familiarity will grow more content:
but if you say mary-her, I will mary-her, that I am freely
dissolued, and dissolutely

   Eu. It is a fery discretion-answere; saue the fall is in
the 'ord, dissolutely: the ort is (according to our meaning)
resolutely: his meaning is good

   Sh. I: I thinke my Cosen meant well

   Sl. I, or else I would I might be hang'd (la.)
  Sh. Here comes faire Mistris Anne; would I were
yong for your sake, Mistris Anne

   An. The dinner is on the Table, my Father desires
your worships company

   Sh. I will wait on him, (faire Mistris Anne.)
  Eu. Od's plessed-wil: I wil not be abse[n]ce at the grace

   An. Wil't please your worship to come in, Sir?
  Sl. No, I thank you forsooth, hartely; I am very well

   An. The dinner attends you, Sir

   Sl. I am not a-hungry, I thanke you, forsooth: goe,
Sirha, for all you are my man, goe wait vpon my Cosen
Shallow: a Iustice of peace sometime may be beholding
to his friend, for a Man; I keepe but three Men, and a
Boy yet, till my Mother be dead: but what though, yet
I liue like a poore Gentleman borne

   An. I may not goe in without your worship: they
will not sit till you come

   Sl. I' faith, ile eate nothing: I thanke you as much as
though I did

   An. I pray you Sir walke in

   Sl. I had rather walke here (I thanke you) I bruiz'd
my shin th' other day, with playing at Sword and Dagger
with a Master of Fence (three veneys for a dish of
stew'd Prunes) and by my troth, I cannot abide the smell
of hot meate since. Why doe your dogs barke so? be
there Beares ith' Towne?
  An. I thinke there are, Sir, I heard them talk'd of

   Sl. I loue the sport well, but I shall as soone quarrell
at it, as any man in England: you are afraid if you see the
Beare loose, are you not?
  An. I indeede Sir

   Sl. That's meate and drinke to me now: I haue seene
Saskerson loose, twenty times, and haue taken him by the
Chaine: but (I warrant you) the women haue so cride
and shrekt at it, that it past: But women indeede, cannot
abide 'em, they are very ill-fauour'd rough things

   Ma.Pa. Come, gentle M[aster]. Slender, come; we stay for you

   Sl. Ile eate nothing, I thanke you Sir

   Ma.Pa. By cocke and pie, you shall not choose, Sir:
come, come

   Sl. Nay, pray you lead the way

   Ma.Pa. Come on, Sir

   Sl. Mistris Anne: your selfe shall goe first

   An. Not I Sir, pray you keepe on

   Sl. Truely I will not goe first: truely-la: I will not
doe you that wrong

   An. I pray you Sir

   Sl. Ile rather be vnmannerly, then troublesome: you
doe your selfe wrong indeede-la.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Euans, and Simple.

  Eu. Go your waies, and aske of Doctor Caius house,
which is the way; and there dwels one Mistris Quickly;
which is in the manner of his Nurse; or his dry-Nurse; or
his Cooke; or his Laundry; his Washer, and his Ringer

   Si. Well Sir

   Eu. Nay, it is petter yet: giue her this letter; for it is
a 'oman that altogeathers acquainta[n]ce with Mistris Anne
Page; and the Letter is to desire, and require her to solicite
your Masters desires, to Mistris Anne Page: I pray
you be gon: I will make an end of my dinner; ther's Pippins
and Cheese to come.

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

Enter Falstaffe, Host, Bardolfe, Nym, Pistoll, Page.

  Fal. Mine Host of the Garter?
  Ho. What saies my Bully Rooke? speake schollerly,
and wisely

   Fal. Truely mine Host; I must turne away some of my
followers

   Ho. Discard, (bully Hercules) casheere; let them wag;
trot, trot

   Fal. I sit at ten pounds a weeke

   Ho. Thou'rt an Emperor (Cesar, Keiser and Pheazar)
I will entertaine Bardolfe: he shall draw; he shall tap; said
I well (bully Hector?)
  Fa. Doe so (good mine Host.)
  Ho. I haue spoke; let him follow; let me see thee froth,
and liue: I am at a word: follow

   Fal. Bardolfe, follow him: a Tapster is a good trade:
an old Cloake, makes a new Ierkin: a wither'd Seruingman,
a fresh Tapster: goe, adew

   Ba. It is a life that I haue desir'd: I will thriue

   Pist. O base hungarian wight: wilt y the spigot wield

   Ni. He was gotten in drink: is not the humor co[n]ceited?
  Fal. I am glad I am so acquit of this Tinderbox: his
Thefts were too open: his filching was like an vnskilfull
Singer, he kept not time

   Ni. The good humor is to steale at a minutes rest

   Pist. Conuay: the wise it call: Steale? foh: a fico for
the phrase

   Fal. Well sirs, I am almost out at heeles

   Pist. Why then let Kibes ensue

   Fal. There is no remedy: I must conicatch, I must shift

   Pist. Yong Rauens must haue foode

   Fal. Which of you know Ford of this Towne?
  Pist. I ken the wight: he is of substance good

   Fal. My honest Lads, I will tell you what I am about

   Pist. Two yards, and more

   Fal. No quips now Pistoll: (Indeede I am in the waste
two yards about: but I am now about no waste: I am about
thrift) briefely: I doe meane to make loue to Fords
wife: I spie entertainment in her: shee discourses: shee
carues: she giues the leere of inuitation: I can construe
the action of her familier stile, & the hardest voice of her
behauior (to be english'd rightly) is, I am Sir Iohn Falstafs

   Pist. He hath studied her will; and translated her will:
out of honesty, into English

   Ni. The Anchor is deepe: will that humor passe?
  Fal. Now, the report goes, she has all the rule of her
husbands Purse: he hath a legend of Angels

   Pist. As many diuels entertaine: and to her Boy say I

   Ni. The humor rises: it is good: humor me the angels

   Fal. I haue writ me here a letter to her: & here another
to Pages wife, who euen now gaue mee good eyes
too; examind my parts with most iudicious illiads: sometimes
the beame of her view, guilded my foote: sometimes
my portly belly

   Pist. Then did the Sun on dung-hill shine

   Ni. I thanke thee for that humour

   Fal. O she did so course o're my exteriors with such
a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye, did seeme
to scorch me vp like a burning-glasse: here's another
letter to her: She beares the Purse too: She is a Region
in Guiana: all gold, and bountie: I will be Cheaters to
them both, and they shall be Exchequers to mee: they
shall be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to
them both: Goe, beare thou this Letter to Mistris Page;
and thou this to Mistris Ford: we will thriue (Lads) we
will thriue

   Pist. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become,
And by my side weare Steele? then Lucifer take all

   Ni. I will run no base humor: here take the humor-Letter;
I will keepe the hauior of reputation

   Fal. Hold Sirha, beare you these Letters tightly,
Saile like my Pinnasse to these golden shores.
Rogues, hence, auaunt, vanish like haile-stones; goe,
Trudge; plod away ith' hoofe: seeke shelter, packe:
Falstaffe will learne the honor of the age,
French-thrift, you Rogues, my selfe, and skirted Page

   Pist. Let Vultures gripe thy guts: for gourd, and
Fullam holds: & high and low beguiles the rich & poore,
Tester ile haue in pouch when thou shalt lacke,
Base Phrygian Turke

   Ni. I haue opperations,
Which be humors of reuenge

   Pist. Wilt thou reuenge?
  Ni. By Welkin, and her Star

   Pist. With wit, or Steele?
  Ni. With both the humors, I:
I will discusse the humour of this Loue to Ford

   Pist. And I to Page shall eke vnfold
How Falstaffe (varlet vile)
His Doue will proue; his gold will hold,
And his soft couch defile

   Ni. My humour shall not coole: I will incense Ford
to deale with poyson: I will possesse him with yallownesse,
for the reuolt of mine is dangerous: that is my
true humour

   Pist. Thou art the Mars of Malecontents: I second
thee: troope on.

Exeunt.


Scoena Quarta.

Enter Mistris Quickly, Simple, Iohn Rugby, Doctor, Caius, Fenton.

  Qu. What, Iohn Rugby, I pray thee goe to the Casement,
and see if you can see my Master, Master Docter
Caius comming: if he doe (I' faith) and finde any body
in the house; here will be an old abusing of Gods patience,
and the Kings English

   Ru. Ile goe watch

   Qu. Goe, and we'll haue a posset for't soone at night,
(in faith) at the latter end of a Sea-cole-fire: An honest,
willing, kinde fellow, as euer seruant shall come in house
withall: and I warrant you, no tel-tale, nor no breedebate:
his worst fault is, that he is giuen to prayer; hee is
something peeuish that way: but no body but has his
fault: but let that passe. Peter Simple, you say your
name is?
  Si. I: for fault of a better

   Qu. And Master Slender's your Master?
  Si. I forsooth

   Qu. Do's he not weare a great round Beard, like a
Glouers pairing-knife?
  Si. No forsooth: he hath but a little wee-face; with
a little yellow Beard: a Caine colourd Beard

   Qu. A softly-sprighted man, is he not?
  Si. I forsooth: but he is as tall a man of his hands, as
any is betweene this and his head: he hath fought with
a Warrener

   Qu. How say you: oh, I should remember him: do's
he not hold vp his head (as it were?) and strut in his gate?
  Si. Yes indeede do's he

   Qu. Well, heauen send Anne Page, no worse fortune:
Tell Master Parson Euans, I will doe what I can for your
Master: Anne is a good girle, and I wish -
  Ru. Out alas: here comes my Master

   Qu. We shall all be shent: Run in here, good young
man: goe into this Closset: he will not stay long: what
Iohn Rugby? Iohn: what Iohn I say? goe Iohn, goe enquire
for my Master, I doubt he be not well, that hee
comes not home: (and downe, downe, adowne'a. &c

   Ca. Vat is you sing? I doe not like des-toyes: pray
you goe and vetch me in my Closset, vnboyteere verd;
a Box, a greene-a-Box: do intend vat I speake? a greene-a-Box

   Qu. I forsooth ile fetch it you:
I am glad hee went not in himselfe: if he had found the
yong man he would haue bin horne-mad

   Ca. Fe, fe, fe, fe, mai foy, il fait for ehando, Ie man voi a le
Court la grand affaires

   Qu. Is it this Sir?
  Ca. Ouy mette le au mon pocket, depeech quickly:
Vere is dat knaue Rugby?
  Qu. What Iohn Rugby, Iohn?
  Ru. Here Sir

   Ca. You are Iohn Rugby, and you are Iacke Rugby:
Come, take-a-your Rapier, and come after my heele to
the Court

   Ru. 'Tis ready Sir, here in the Porch

   Ca. By my trot: I tarry too long: od's-me: que ay ie
oublie: dere is some Simples in my Closset, dat I vill not
for the varld I shall leaue behinde

   Qu. Ay-me, he'll finde the yong man there, & be mad

   Ca. O Diable, Diable: vat is in my Closset?
Villanie, Laroone: Rugby, my Rapier

   Qu. Good Master be content

   Ca. Wherefore shall I be content-a?
  Qu. The yong man is an honest man

   Ca. What shall de honest man do in my Closset: dere
is no honest man dat shall come in my Closset

   Qu. I beseech you be not so flegmaticke: heare the
truth of it. He came of an errand to mee, from Parson
Hugh

   Ca. Vell

   Si. I forsooth: to desire her to -
  Qu. Peace, I pray you

   Ca. Peace-a-your tongue: speake-a-your Tale

   Si. To desire this honest Gentlewoman (your Maid)
to speake a good word to Mistris Anne Page, for my Master
in the way of Marriage

   Qu. This is all indeede-la: but ile nere put my finger
in the fire, and neede not

   Ca. Sir Hugh send-a you? Rugby, ballow mee some
paper: tarry you a littell-a-while

   Qui. I am glad he is so quiet: if he had bin throughly
moued, you should haue heard him so loud, and so melancholly:
but notwithstanding man, Ile doe yoe your
Master what good I can: and the very yea, & the no is, y
French Doctor my Master, (I may call him my Master,
looke you, for I keepe his house; and I wash, ring, brew,
bake, scowre, dresse meat and drinke, make the beds, and
doe all my selfe.)
  Simp. 'Tis a great charge to come vnder one bodies
hand

   Qui. Are you auis'd o'that? you shall finde it a great
charge: and to be vp early, and down late: but notwithstanding,
(to tell you in your eare, I wold haue no words
of it) my Master himselfe is in loue with Mistris Anne
Page: but notwithstanding that I know Ans mind, that's
neither heere nor there

   Caius. You, Iack'Nape: giue-'a this Letter to Sir
Hugh, by gar it is a shallenge: I will cut his troat in de
Parke, and I will teach a scuruy Iackanape Priest to
meddle, or make:- you may be gon: it is not good
you tarry here: by gar I will cut all his two stones: by
gar, he shall not haue a stone to throw at his dogge

   Qui. Alas: he speakes but for his friend

   Caius. It is no matter 'a ver dat: do not you tell-a-me
dat I shall haue Anne Page for my selfe? by gar, I vill
kill de Iack-Priest: and I haue appointed mine Host of
de Iarteer to measure our weapon: by gar, I wil my selfe
haue Anne Page

   Qui. Sir, the maid loues you, and all shall bee well:
We must giue folkes leaue to prate: what the goodier

   Caius. Rugby, come to the Court with me: by gar, if
I haue not Anne Page, I shall turne your head out of my
dore: follow my heeles, Rugby

   Qui. You shall haue An-fooles head of your owne:
No, I know Ans mind for that: neuer a woman in Windsor
knowes more of Ans minde then I doe, nor can doe
more then I doe with her, I thanke heauen

   Fenton. Who's with in there, hoa?
  Qui. Who's there, I troa? Come neere the house I
pray you

   Fen. How now (good woman) how dost thou?
  Qui. The better that it pleases your good Worship
to aske?
  Fen. What newes? how do's pretty Mistris Anne?
  Qui. In truth Sir, and shee is pretty, and honest, and
gentle, and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by
the way, I praise heauen for it

   Fen. Shall I doe any good thinkst thou? shall I not
loose my suit?
  Qui. Troth Sir, all is in his hands aboue: but notwithstanding
(Master Fenton) Ile be sworne on a booke
shee loues you: haue not your Worship a wart aboue
your eye?
  Fen. Yes marry haue I, what of that?
  Qui. Wel, thereby hangs a tale: good faith, it is such
another Nan; (but (I detest) an honest maid as euer
broke bread: wee had an howres talke of that wart; I
shall neuer laugh but in that maids company: but (indeed)
shee is giuen too much to Allicholy and musing:
but for you - well - goe too -
  Fen. Well: I shall see her to day: hold, there's money
for thee: Let mee haue thy voice in my behalfe: if
thou seest her before me, commend me. -
  Qui. Will I? I faith that wee will: And I will tell
your Worship more of the Wart, the next time we haue
confidence, and of other wooers

   Fen. Well, fare-well, I am in great haste now

   Qui. Fare-well to your Worship: truely an honest
Gentleman: but Anne loues him not: for I know Ans
minde as well as another do's: out vpon't: what haue I
forgot.

Enter.


Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, Master Page, Master Ford,
Pistoll, Nim,
Quickly, Host, Shallow.

  Mist.Page. What, haue scap'd Loue-letters in the
holly-day-time of my beauty, and am I now a subiect
for them? let me see?
Aske me no reason why I loue you, for though Loue vse Reason
for his precisian, hee admits him not for his Counsailour:
you are not yong, no more am I: goe to then, there's simpathie:
you are merry, so am I: ha, ha, then there's more simpathie:
you loue sacke, and so do I: would you desire better simpathie?
Let it suffice thee (Mistris Page) at the least if the Loue of
Souldier can suffice, that I loue thee: I will not say pitty mee,
'tis not a Souldier-like phrase; but I say, loue me:
By me, thine owne true Knight, by day or night:
Or any kinde of light, with all his might,
For thee to fight. Iohn Falstaffe.
What a Herod of Iurie is this? O wicked, wicked world:
One that is well-nye worne to peeces with age
To show himselfe a yong Gallant? What an vnwaied
Behauiour hath this Flemish drunkard pickt (with
The Deuills name) out of my conuersation, that he dares
In this manner assay me? why, hee hath not beene thrice
In my Company: what should I say to him? I was then
Frugall of my mirth: (heauen forgiue mee:) why Ile
Exhibit a Bill in the Parliament for the putting downe
of men: how shall I be reueng'd on him? for reueng'd I
will be? as sure as his guts are made of puddings

   Mis.Ford. Mistris Page, trust me, I was going to your
house

   Mis.Page. And trust me, I was comming to you: you
looke very ill

   Mis.Ford. Nay Ile nere beleeue that; I haue to shew
to the contrary

   Mis.Page. 'Faith but you doe in my minde

   Mis.Ford. Well: I doe then: yet I say, I could shew
you to the contrary: O Mistris Page, giue mee some
counsaile

   Mis.Page. What's the matter, woman?
  Mi.Ford. O woman: if it were not for one trifling respect,
I could come to such honour

   Mi.Page. Hang the trifle (woman) take the honour:
what is it? dispence with trifles: what is it?
  Mi.Ford. If I would but goe to hell, for an eternall
moment, or so: I could be knighted

   Mi.Page. What thou liest? Sir Alice Ford? these
Knights will hacke, and so thou shouldst not alter the article
of thy Gentry

   Mi.Ford. Wee burne day-light: heere, read, read:
perceiue how I might bee knighted, I shall thinke the
worse of fat men, as long as I haue an eye to make difference
of mens liking: and yet hee would not sweare:
praise womens modesty: and gaue such orderly and welbehaued
reproofe to al vncomelinesse, that I would haue
sworne his disposition would haue gone to the truth of
his words: but they doe no more adhere and keep place
together, then the hundred Psalms to the tune of Greensleeues:
What tempest (I troa) threw this Whale, (with
so many Tuns of oyle in his belly) a'shoare at Windsor?
How shall I bee reuenged on him? I thinke the best way
were, to entertaine him with hope, till the wicked fire
of lust haue melted him in his owne greace: Did you euer
heare the like?
  Mis.Page. Letter for letter; but that the name of
Page and Ford differs: to thy great comfort in this mystery
of ill opinions, heere's the twyn-brother of thy Letter:
but let thine inherit first, for I protest mine neuer
shall: I warrant he hath a thousand of these Letters, writ
with blancke-space for different names (sure more): and
these are of the second edition: hee will print them out
of doubt: for he cares not what hee puts into the presse,
when he would put vs two: I had rather be a Giantesse,
and lye vnder Mount Pelion: Well; I will find you twentie
lasciuious Turtles ere one chaste man

   Mis.Ford. Why this is the very same: the very hand:
the very words: what doth he thinke of vs?
  Mis.Page. Nay I know not: it makes me almost readie
to wrangle with mine owne honesty: Ile entertaine
my selfe like one that I am not acquainted withall: for
sure vnlesse hee know some straine in mee, that I know
not my selfe, hee would neuer haue boorded me in this
furie

   Mi.Ford. Boording, call you it? Ile bee sure to keepe
him aboue decke

   Mi.Page. So will I: if hee come vnder my hatches,
Ile neuer to Sea againe: Let's bee reueng'd on him: let's
appoint him a meeting: giue him a show of comfort in
his Suit, and lead him on with a fine baited delay, till hee
hath pawn'd his horses to mine Host of the Garter

   Mi.Ford. Nay, I wil consent to act any villany against
him, that may not sully the charinesse of our honesty: oh
that my husband saw this Letter: it would giue eternall
food to his iealousie

   Mis.Page. Why look where he comes; and my good
man too: hee's as farre from iealousie, as I am from giuing
him cause, and that (I hope) is an vnmeasurable distance

   Mis.Ford. You are the happier woman

   Mis.Page. Let's consult together against this greasie
Knight: Come hither

   Ford. Well: I hope, it be not so

   Pist. Hope is a curtall-dog in some affaires:
Sir Iohn affects thy wife

   Ford. Why sir, my wife is not young

   Pist. He wooes both high and low, both rich & poor,
both yong and old, one with another (Ford) he loues the
Gally-mawfry (Ford) perpend

   Ford. Loue my wife?
  Pist. With liuer, burning hot: preuent:
Or goe thou like Sir Acteon he, with
Ring-wood at thy heeles: O, odious is the name

   Ford. What name Sir?
  Pist. The horne I say: Farewell:
Take heed, haue open eye, for theeues doe foot by night.
Take heed, ere sommer comes, or Cuckoo-birds do sing.
Away sir Corporall Nim:
Beleeue it (Page) he speakes sence

   Ford. I will be patient: I will find out this

   Nim. And this is true: I like not the humor of lying:
hee hath wronged mee in some humors: I should haue
borne the humour'd Letter to her: but I haue a sword:
and it shall bite vpon my necessitie: he loues your wife;
There's the short and the long: My name is Corporall
Nim: I speak, and I auouch; 'tis true: my name is Nim:
and Falstaffe loues your wife: adieu, I loue not the humour
of bread and cheese: adieu

   Page. The humour of it (quoth 'a?) heere's a fellow
frights English out of his wits

   Ford. I will seeke out Falstaffe

   Page. I neuer heard such a drawling-affecting rogue

   Ford. If I doe finde it: well

   Page. I will not beleeue such a Cataian, though the
Priest o' th' Towne commended him for a true man

   Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow: well

   Page. How now Meg?
  Mist.Page. Whether goe you (George?) harke you

   Mis.Ford. How now (sweet Frank) why art thou melancholy?
  Ford. I melancholy? I am not melancholy:
Get you home: goe

   Mis.Ford. Faith, thou hast some crochets in thy head,
Now: will you goe, Mistris Page?
  Mis.Page. Haue with you: you'll come to dinner
George? Looke who comes yonder: shee shall bee our
Messenger to this paltrie Knight

   Mis.Ford. Trust me, I thought on her: shee'll fit it

   Mis.Page. You are come to see my daughter Anne?
  Qui. I forsooth: and I pray how do's good Mistresse
Anne?
  Mis.Page. Go in with vs and see: we haue an houres
talke with you

   Page. How now Master Ford?
  For. You heard what this knaue told me, did you not?
  Page. Yes, and you heard what the other told me?
  Ford. Doe you thinke there is truth in them?
  Pag. Hang 'em slaues: I doe not thinke the Knight
would offer it: But these that accuse him in his intent
towards our wiues, are a yoake of his discarded men: very
rogues, now they be out of seruice

   Ford. Were they his men?
  Page. Marry were they

   Ford. I like it neuer the beter for that,
Do's he lye at the Garter?
  Page. I marry do's he: if hee should intend this voyage
toward my wife, I would turne her loose to him;
and what hee gets more of her, then sharpe words, let it
lye on my head

   Ford. I doe not misdoubt my wife: but I would bee
loath to turne them together: a man may be too confident:
I would haue nothing lye on my head: I cannot
be thus satisfied

   Page. Looke where my ranting-Host of the Garter
comes: there is eyther liquor in his pate, or mony in his
purse, when hee lookes so merrily: How now mine
Host?
  Host. How now Bully-Rooke: thou'rt a Gentleman
Caueleiro Iustice, I say

   Shal. I follow, (mine Host) I follow: Good-euen,
and twenty (good Master Page.) Master Page, wil you go
with vs? we haue sport in hand

   Host. Tell him Caueleiro-Iustice: tell him Bully-Rooke

   Shall. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, betweene Sir
Hugh the Welch Priest, and Caius the French Doctor

   Ford. Good mine Host o'th' Garter: a word with you

   Host. What saist thou, my Bully-Rooke?
  Shal. Will you goe with vs to behold it? My merry
Host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and (I
thinke) hath appointed them contrary places: for (beleeue
mee) I heare the Parson is no Iester: harke, I will
tell you what our sport shall be

   Host. Hast thou no suit against my Knight? my guest-Caualeire?
  Shal. None, I protest: but Ile giue you a pottle of
burn'd sacke, to giue me recourse to him, and tell him
my name is Broome: onely for a iest

   Host. My hand, (Bully:) thou shalt haue egresse and
regresse, (said I well?) and thy name shall be Broome. It
is a merry Knight: will you goe An-heires?
  Shal. Haue with you mine Host

   Page. I haue heard the French-man hath good skill
in his Rapier

   Shal. Tut sir: I could haue told you more: In these
times you stand on distance: your Passes, Stoccado's, and
I know not what: 'tis the heart (Master Page) 'tis heere,
'tis heere: I haue seene the time, with my long-sword, I
would haue made you fowre tall fellowes skippe like
Rattes

   Host. Heere boyes, heere, heere: shall we wag?
  Page. Haue with you: I had rather heare them scold,
then fight

   Ford. Though Page be a secure foole, and stands so
firmely on his wiues frailty; yet, I cannot put-off my opinion
so easily: she was in his company at Pages house:
and what they made there, I know not. Well, I wil looke
further into't, and I haue a disguise, to sound Falstaffe; if
I finde her honest, I loose not my labor: if she be otherwise,
'tis labour well bestowed.

Exeunt.


Scoena Secunda.


Enter Falstaffe, Pistoll, Robin, Quickly, Bardolffe, Ford.

  Fal. I will not lend thee a penny

   Pist. Why then the world's mine Oyster, which I,
with sword will open

   Fal. Not a penny: I haue beene content (Sir,) you
should lay my countenance to pawne: I haue grated vpon
my good friends for three Repreeues for you, and
your Coach-fellow Nim; or else you had look'd through
the grate, like a Geminy of Baboones: I am damn'd in
hell, for swearing to Gentlemen my friends, you were
good Souldiers, and tall-fellowes. And when Mistresse
Briget lost the handle of her Fan, I took't vpon mine honour
thou hadst it not

   Pist. Didst not thou share? hadst thou not fifteene
pence?
  Fal. Reason, you roague, reason: thinkst thou Ile endanger
my soule, gratis? at a word, hang no more about
mee, I am no gibbet for you: goe, a short knife, and a
throng, to your Mannor of Pickt-hatch: goe, you'll not
beare a Letter for mee you roague? you stand vpon your
honor: why, (thou vnconfinable basenesse) it is as much
as I can doe to keepe the termes of my honor precise:
I, I, I my selfe sometimes, leauing the feare of heauen on
the left hand, and hiding mine honor in my necessity, am
faine to shufflle: to hedge, and to lurch, and yet, you
Rogue, will en-sconce your raggs; your Cat-a-Mountaine-lookes,
your red-lattice phrases, and your boldbeating-oathes,
vnder the shelter of your honor? you
will not doe it? you?

  Pist. I doe relent: what would thou more of man?

  Robin. Sir, here's a woman would speake with you

   Fal. Let her approach

   Qui. Giue your worship good morrow

   Fal. Good-morrow, good-wife

   Qui. Not so, and't please your worship

   Fal. Good maid then

   Qui. Ile be sworne,
As my mother was the first houre I was borne

   Fal. I doe beleeue the swearer; what with me?

  Qui. Shall I vouch-safe your worship a word, or
two?

  Fal. Two thousand (faire woman) and ile vouchsafe
thee the hearing

   Qui. There is one Mistresse Ford, (Sir) I pray come a
little neerer this waies: I my selfe dwell with M[aster]. Doctor
Caius:
  Fal. Well, on; Mistresse Ford, you say

   Qui. Your worship saies very true: I pray your worship
come a little neerer this waies

   Fal. I warrant thee, no-bodie heares: mine owne
people, mine owne people

   Qui. Are they so? heauen-blesse them, and make
them his Seruants

   Fal. Well; Mistresse Ford, what of her?

  Qui. Why, Sir; shee's a good-creature; Lord, Lord,
your Worship's a wanton: well: heauen forgiue you,
and all of vs, I pray -

   Fal. Mistresse Ford: come, Mistresse Ford

   Qui. Marry this is the short, and the long of it: you
haue brought her into such a Canaries, as 'tis wonderfull:
the best Courtier of them all (when the Court lay
at Windsor) could neuer haue brought her to such a Canarie:
yet there has beene Knights, and Lords, and Gentlemen,
with their Coaches; I warrant you Coach after
Coach, letter after letter, gift after gift, smelling so sweetly;
all Muske, and so rushling, I warrant you, in silke
and golde, and in such alligant termes, and in such wine
and suger of the best, and the fairest, that would haue
wonne any womans heart: and I warrant you, they could
neuer get an eye-winke of her: I had my selfe twentie
Angels giuen me this morning, but I defie all Angels (in
any such sort, as they say) but in the way of honesty: and
I warrant you, they could neuer get her so much as sippe
on a cup with the prowdest of them all, and yet there has
beene Earles: nay, (which is more) Pentioners, but I
warrant you all is one with her

   Fal. But what saies shee to mee? be briefe my good
sheeMercurie

   Qui. Marry, she hath receiu'd your Letter: for the
which she thankes you a thousand times; and she giues
you to notifie, that her husband will be absence from his
house, betweene ten and eleuen

   Fal. Ten, and eleuen

   Qui. I, forsooth: and then you may come and see the
picture (she sayes) that you wot of: Master Ford her husband
will be from home: alas, the sweet woman leades
an ill life with him: hee's a very iealousie-man; she leads
a very frampold life with him, (good hart.)

   Fal. Ten, and eleuen.
Woman, commend me to her, I will not faile her

   Qui. Why, you say well: But I haue another messenger
to your worship: Mistresse Page hath her heartie
commendations to you to: and let mee tell you in your
eare, shee's as fartuous a ciuill modest wife, and one (I
tell you) that will not misse you morning nor euening
prayer, as any is in Windsor, who ere bee the other: and
shee bade me tell your worship, that her husband is seldome
from home, but she hopes there will come a time.
I neuer knew a woman so doate vpon a man; surely I
thinke you haue charmes, la: yes in truth

   Fal. Not I, I assure thee; setting the attraction of my
good parts aside, I haue no other charmes

   Qui. Blessing on your heart for't

   Fal. But I pray thee tell me this: has Fords wife, and
Pages wife acquainted each other, how they loue me?

  Qui. That were a iest indeed: they haue not so little
grace I hope, that were a tricke indeed: But Mistris Page
would desire you to send her your little Page of al loues:
her husband has a maruellous infectio[n] to the little Page:
and truely Master Page is an honest man: neuer a wife in
Windsor leades a better life then she do's: doe what shee
will, say what she will, take all, pay all, goe to bed when
she list, rise when she list, all is as she will: and truly she
deserues it; for if there be a kinde woman in Windsor, she
is one: you must send her your Page, no remedie

   Fal. Why, I will

   Qu. Nay, but doe so then, and looke you, hee may
come and goe betweene you both: and in any case haue
a nay-word, that you may know one anothers minde,
and the Boy neuer neede to vnderstand any thing; for
'tis not good that children should know any wickednes:
olde folkes you know, haue discretion, as they say, and
know the world

   Fal. Farethee-well, commend mee to them both:
there's my purse, I am yet thy debter: Boy, goe along
with this woman, this newes distracts me

   Pist. This Puncke is one of Cupids Carriers,
Clap on more sailes, pursue: vp with your sights:
Giue fire: she is my prize, or Ocean whelme them all

   Fal. Saist thou so (old Iacke) go thy waies: Ile make
more of thy olde body then I haue done: will they yet
looke after thee? wilt thou after the expence of so much
money, be now a gainer? good Body, I thanke thee: let
them say 'tis grossely done, so it bee fairely done, no
matter

   Bar. Sir Iohn, there's one Master Broome below would
faine speake with you, and be acquainted with you; and
hath sent your worship a mornings draught of Sacke

   Fal. Broome is his name?

   Bar. I Sir

   Fal. Call him in: such Broomes are welcome to mee,
that ore'flowes such liquor: ah ha, Mistresse Ford and Mistresse
Page, haue I encompass'd you? goe to, via

   Ford. 'Blesse you sir

   Fal. And you sir: would you speake with me?

   Ford. I make bold, to presse, with so little preparation
vpon you

   Fal. You'r welcome, what's your will? giue vs leaue
Drawer

   Ford. Sir, I am a Gentleman that haue spent much,
my name is Broome

   Fal. Good Master Broome, I desire more acquaintance
of you

   Ford. Good Sir Iohn, I sue for yours: not to charge
you, for I must let you vnderstand, I thinke my selfe in
better plight for a Lender, then you are: the which hath
something emboldned me to this vnseason'd intrusion:
for they say, if money goe before, all waies doe lye
open

   Fal. Money is a good Souldier (Sir) and will on

   Ford. Troth, and I haue a bag of money heere troubles
me: if you will helpe to beare it (Sir Iohn) take all,
or halfe, for easing me of the carriage

   Fal. Sir, I know not how I may deserue to bee your
Porter

   Ford. I will tell you sir, if you will giue mee the hearing

   Fal. Speake (good Master Broome) I shall be glad to
be your Seruant

   Ford. Sir, I heare you are a Scholler: (I will be briefe
with you) and you haue been a man long knowne to me,
though I had neuer so good means as desire, to make my
selfe acquainted with you. I shall discouer a thing to
you, wherein I must very much lay open mine owne imperfection:
but (good Sir Iohn) as you haue one eye vpon
my follies, as you heare them vnfolded, turne another
into the Register of your owne, that I may passe with a
reproofe the easier, sith you your selfe know how easie it
is to be such an offender

   Fal. Very well Sir, proceed

   Ford. There is a Gentlewoman in this Towne, her
husbands name is Ford

   Fal. Well Sir

   Ford. I haue long lou'd her, and I protest to you, bestowed
much on her: followed her with a doating obseruance:
Ingross'd opportunities to meete her: fee'd euery
slight occasion that could but nigardly giue mee
sight of her: not only bought many presents to giue her,
but haue giuen largely to many, to know what shee
would haue giuen: briefly, I haue pursu'd her, as Loue
hath pursued mee, which hath beene on the wing of all
occasions: but whatsoeuer I haue merited, either in my
minde, or in my meanes, meede I am sure I haue receiued
none, vnlesse Experience be a Iewell, that I haue purchased
at an infinite rate, and that hath taught mee to say
this,
``Loue like a shadow flies, when substance Loue pursues,
``Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues

   Fal. Haue you receiu'd no promise of satisfaction at
her hands?
  Ford. Neuer

   Fal. Haue you importun'd her to such a purpose?
  Ford. Neuer

   Fal. Of what qualitie was your loue then?
  Ford. Like a fair house, built on another mans ground,
so that I haue lost my edifice, by mistaking the place,
where I erected it

   Fal. To what purpose haue you vnfolded this to me?
  For. When I haue told you that, I haue told you all:
Some say, that though she appeare honest to mee, yet in
other places shee enlargeth her mirth so farre, that there
is shrewd construction made of her. Now (Sir Iohn) here
is the heart of my purpose: you are a gentleman of excellent
breeding, admirable discourse, of great admittance,
authenticke in your place and person, generally
allow'd for your many war-like, court-like, and learned
preparations

   Fal. O Sir

   Ford. Beleeue it, for you know it: there is money,
spend it, spend it, spend more; spend all I haue, onely
giue me so much of your time in enchange of it, as to lay
an amiable siege to the honesty of this Fords wife: vse
your Art of wooing; win her to consent to you: if any
man may, you may as soone as any

   Fal. Would it apply well to the vehemency of your
affection that I should win what you would enioy? Methinkes
you prescribe to your selfe very preposterously

   Ford. O, vnderstand my drift: she dwells so securely
on the excellency of her honor, that the folly of my soule
dares not present it selfe: shee is too bright to be look'd
against. Now, could I come to her with any detection
in my hand; my desires had instance and argument to
commend themselues, I could driue her then from the
ward of her purity, her reputation, her marriage-vow,
and a thousand other her defences, which now are tootoo
strongly embattaild against me: what say you too't,
Sir Iohn?
  Fal. Master Broome, I will first make bold with your
money: next, giue mee your hand: and last, as I am a
gentleman, you shall, if you will, enioy Fords wife

   Ford. O good Sir

   Fal. I say you shall

   Ford. Want no money (Sir Iohn) you shall want none

   Fal. Want no Mistresse Ford (Master Broome) you shall
want none: I shall be with her (I may tell you) by her
owne appointment, euen as you came in to me, her assistant,
or goe-betweene, parted from me: I say I shall be
with her betweene ten and eleuen: for at that time the
iealious-rascally-knaue her husband will be forth: come
you to me at night, you shall know how I speed

   Ford. I am blest in your acquaintance: do you know
Ford Sir?
  Fal. Hang him (poore Cuckoldly knaue) I know
him not: yet I wrong him to call him poore: They say
the iealous wittolly-knaue hath masses of money, for
the which his wife seemes to me well-fauourd: I will vse
her as the key of the Cuckoldly-rogues Coffer, & ther's
my haruest-home

   Ford. I would you knew Ford, sir, that you might auoid
him, if you saw him

   Fal. Hang him, mechanicall-salt-butter rogue; I wil
stare him out of his wits: I will awe-him with my cudgell:
it shall hang like a Meteor ore the Cuckolds horns:
Master Broome, thou shalt know, I will predominate ouer
the pezant, and thou shalt lye with his wife. Come
to me soone at night: Ford's a knaue, and I will aggrauate
his stile: thou (Master Broome) shalt know him for
knaue, and Cuckold. Come to me soone at night

   Ford. What a damn'd Epicurian-Rascall is this? my
heart is ready to cracke with impatience: who saies this
is improuident iealousie? my wife hath sent to him, the
howre is fixt, the match is made: would any man haue
thought this? see the hell of hauing a false woman: my
bed shall be abus'd, my Coffers ransack'd, my reputation
gnawne at, and I shall not onely receiue this villanous
wrong, but stand vnder the adoption of abhominable
termes, and by him that does mee this wrong: Termes,
names: Amaimon sounds well: Lucifer, well: Barbason,
well: yet they are Diuels additions, the names of fiends:
But Cuckold, Wittoll, Cuckold? the Diuell himselfe
hath not such a name. Page is an Asse, a secure Asse; hee
will trust his wife, hee will not be iealous: I will rather
trust a Fleming with my butter, Parson Hugh the Welshman
with my Cheese, an Irish-man with my Aqua-vitae-bottle,
or a Theefe to walke my ambling gelding, then
my wife with her selfe. Then she plots, then shee ruminates,
then shee deuises: and what they thinke in their
hearts they may effect; they will breake their hearts but
they will effect. Heauen bee prais'd for my iealousie:
eleuen o' clocke the howre, I will preuent this, detect
my wife, bee reueng'd on Falstaffe, and laugh at Page. I
will about it, better three houres too soone, then a mynute
too late: fie, fie, fie: Cuckold, Cuckold, Cuckold.

Enter.


Scena Tertia.

Enter Caius, Rugby, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host.

  Caius. Iacke Rugby

   Rug. Sir

   Caius. Vat is the clocke, Iack

   Rug. 'Tis past the howre (Sir) that Sir Hugh promis'd
to meet

   Cai. By gar, he has saue his soule, dat he is no-come:
hee has pray his Pible well, dat he is no-come: by gar
(Iack Rugby) he is dead already, if he be come

   Rug. Hee is wise Sir: hee knew your worship would
kill him if he came

   Cai. By gar, de herring is no dead, so as I vill kill
him: take your Rapier, (Iacke) I vill tell you how I vill
kill him

   Rug. Alas sir, I cannot fence

   Cai. Villaine, take your Rapier

   Rug. Forbeare: heer's company

   Host. 'Blesse thee, bully-Doctor

   Shal. 'Saue you Mr. Doctor Caius

   Page. Now good Mr. Doctor

   Slen. 'Giue you good-morrow, sir

   Caius. Vat be all you one, two, tree, fowre, come for?
  Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foigne, to see thee
trauerse, to see thee heere, to see thee there, to see thee
passe thy puncto, thy stock, thy reuerse, thy distance, thy
montant: Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Francisco?
ha Bully? what saies my Esculapius? my Galien? my
heart of Elder? ha? is he dead bully-Stale? is he dead?
  Cai. By gar, he is de Coward-Iack-Priest of de vorld:
he is not show his face

   Host. Thou art a Castalion-king-Vrinall: Hector of
Greece (my Boy)
  Cai. I pray you beare witnesse, that me haue stay,
sixe or seuen, two tree howres for him, and hee is nocome

   Shal. He is the wiser man (M[aster]. Doctor) he is a curer of
soules, and you a curer of bodies: if you should fight, you
goe against the haire of your professions: is it not true,
Master Page?
  Page. Master Shallow; you haue your selfe beene a
great fighter, though now a man of peace

   Shal. Body-kins M[aster]. Page, though I now be old, and
of the peace; if I see a sword out, my finger itches to
make one: though wee are Iustices, and Doctors, and
Church-men (M[aster]. Page) wee haue some salt of our youth
in vs, we are the sons of women (M[aster]. Page.)
  Page. 'Tis true, Mr. Shallow

   Shal. It wil be found so, (M[aster]. Page:) M[aster]. Doctor
Caius,
I am come to fetch you home: I am sworn of the peace:
you haue show'd your selfe a wise Physician, and Sir
Hugh hath showne himselfe a wise and patient Churchman:
you must goe with me, M[aster]. Doctor

   Host. Pardon, Guest-Iustice; a Mounseur Mocke-water

   Cai. Mock-vater? vat is dat?
  Host. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is Valour
(Bully.)
  Cai. By gar, then I haue as much Mock-vater as de
Englishman: scuruy-Iack-dog-Priest: by gar, mee vill
cut his eares

   Host. He will Clapper-claw thee tightly (Bully.)
  Cai. Clapper-de-claw? vat is dat?
  Host. That is, he will make thee amends

   Cai. By-gar, me doe looke hee shall clapper-de-claw
me, for by-gar, me vill haue it

   Host. And I will prouoke him to't, or let him wag

   Cai. Me tanck you for dat

   Host. And moreouer, (Bully) but first, Mr. Ghuest,
and M[aster]. Page, & eeke Caualeiro Slender, goe you through
the Towne to Frogmore

   Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he?
  Host. He is there, see what humor he is in: and I will
bring the Doctor about by the Fields: will it doe well?
  Shal. We will doe it

   All. Adieu, good M[aster]. Doctor

   Cai. By-gar, me vill kill de Priest, for he speake for a
Iack-an-Ape to Anne Page

   Host. Let him die: sheath thy impatience: throw cold
water on thy Choller: goe about the fields with mee
through Frogmore, I will bring thee where Mistris Anne
Page is, at a Farm-house a Feasting: and thou shalt wooe
her: Cride-game, said I well?
  Cai. By-gar, mee dancke you vor dat: by gar I loue
you: and I shall procure 'a you de good Guest: de Earle,
de Knight, de Lords, de Gentlemen, my patients

   Host. For the which, I will be thy aduersary toward
Anne Page: said I well?
  Cai. By-gar, 'tis good: vell said

   Host. Let vs wag then

   Cai. Come at my heeles, Iack Rugby.

Exeunt.


Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.

Enter Euans, Simple, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Caius, Rugby.

  Euans. I pray you now, good Master Slenders seruingman,
and friend Simple by your name; which way haue
you look'd for Master Caius, that calls himselfe Doctor
of Phisicke

   Sim. Marry Sir, the pittie-ward, the Parke-ward:
euery way: olde Windsor way, and euery way but the
Towne-way

   Euan. I most fehemently desire you, you will also
looke that way

   Sim. I will sir

   Euan. 'Plesse my soule: how full of Chollors I am, and
trempling of minde: I shall be glad if he haue deceiued
me: how melancholies I am? I will knog his Vrinalls about
his knaues costard, when I haue good oportunities
for the orke: 'Plesse my soule: To shallow Riuers to whose
falls: melodious Birds sings Madrigalls: There will we make
our Peds of Roses: and a thousand fragrant posies. To shallow:
'Mercie on mee, I haue a great dispositions to cry.
Melodious birds sing Madrigalls: - When as I sat in Pabilon:
and a thousand vagram Posies. To shallow, &c

   Sim. Yonder he is comming, this way, Sir Hugh

   Euan. Hee's welcome: To shallow Riuers, to whose fals:
Heauen prosper the right: what weapons is he?
  Sim. No weapons, Sir: there comes my Master, Mr.
Shallow, and another Gentleman; from Frogmore, ouer
the stile, this way

   Euan. Pray you giue mee my gowne, or else keepe it
in your armes

   Shal. How now Master Parson? good morrow good
Sir Hugh: keepe a Gamester from the dice, and a good
Studient from his booke, and it is wonderfull

   Slen. Ah sweet Anne Page

   Page. 'Saue you, good Sir Hugh

   Euan. 'Plesse you from his mercy-sake, all of you

   Shal. What? the Sword, and the Word?
Doe you study them both, Mr. Parson?
  Page. And youthfull still, in your doublet and hose,
this raw-rumaticke day?
  Euan. There is reasons, and causes for it

   Page. We are come to you, to doe a good office, Mr.
Parson

   Euan. Fery-well: what is it?
  Page. Yonder is a most reuerend Gentleman; who
(be-like) hauing receiued wrong by some person, is at
most odds with his owne grauity and patience, that euer
you saw

   Shal. I haue liued foure-score yeeres, and vpward: I
neuer heard a man of his place, grauity, and learning, so
wide of his owne respect

   Euan. What is he?
  Page. I thinke you know him: Mr. Doctor Caius the
renowned French Physician

   Euan. Got's-will, and his passion of my heart: I had
as lief you would tell me of a messe of porredge

   Page. Why?
  Euan. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and
  Galen , and hee is a knaue besides: a cowardly knaue, as
you would desires to be acquainted withall

   Page. I warrant you, hee's the man should fight with
him

   Slen. O sweet Anne Page

   Shal. It appeares so by his weapons: keepe them asunder:
here comes Doctor Caius

   Page. Nay good Mr. Parson, keepe in your weapon

   Shal. So doe you, good Mr. Doctor

   Host. Disarme them, and let them question: let them
keepe their limbs whole, and hack our English

   Cai. I pray you let-a-mee speake a word with your
eare; vherefore vill you not meet-a me?
  Euan. Pray you vse your patience in good time

   Cai. By-gar, you are de Coward: de Iack dog: Iohn
Ape

   Euan. Pray you let vs not be laughing-stocks to other
mens humors: I desire you in friendship, and I will one
way or other make you amends: I will knog your Vrinal
about your knaues Cogs-combe

   Cai. Diable: Iack Rugby: mine Host de Iarteer: haue I
not stay for him, to kill him? haue I not at de place I did
appoint?
  Euan. As I am a Christians-soule, now looke you:
this is the place appointed, Ile bee iudgement by mine
Host of the Garter

   Host. Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaule, French & Welch,
Soule-Curer, and Body-Curer

   Cai. I, dat is very good, excellant

   Host. Peace, I say: heare mine Host of the Garter,
Am I politicke? Am I subtle? Am I a Machiuell?
Shall I loose my Doctor? No, hee giues me the Potions
and the Motions. Shall I loose my Parson? my Priest?
my Sir Hugh? No, he giues me the Prouerbes, and the
No-verbes. Giue me thy hand (Celestiall) so: Boyes of
Art, I haue deceiu'd you both: I haue directed you to
wrong places: your hearts are mighty, your skinnes are
whole, and let burn'd Sacke be the issue: Come, lay their
swords to pawne: Follow me, Lad of peace, follow, follow,
follow

   Shal. Trust me, a mad Host: follow Gentlemen, follow

   Slen. O sweet Anne Page

   Cai. Ha' do I perceiue dat? Haue you make-a-de-sot
of vs, ha, ha?
  Eua. This is well, he has made vs his vlowting-stog:
I desire you that we may be friends: and let vs knog our
praines together to be reuenge on this same scall
scuruy-cogging-companion
the Host of the Garter

   Cai. By gar, with all my heart: he promise to bring
me where is Anne Page: by gar he deceiue me too

   Euan. Well, I will smite his noddles: pray you follow.

Scena Secunda.

Mist.Page, Robin, Ford, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Euans,
Caius.

  Mist.Page. Nay keepe your way (little Gallant) you
were wont to be a follower, but now you are a Leader:
whether had you rather lead mine eyes, or eye your masters
heeles?
  Rob. I had rather (forsooth) go before you like a man,
then follow him like a dwarfe

   M.Pa. O you are a flattering boy, now I see you'l be a
(Courtier

   Ford. Well met mistris Page, whether go you

   M.Pa. Truly Sir, to see your wife, is she at home?
  Ford. I, and as idle as she may hang together for want
of company: I thinke if your husbands were dead, you
two would marry

   M.Pa. Be sure of that, two other husbands

   Ford. Where had you this pretty weather-cocke?
  M.Pa. I cannot tell what (the dickens) his name is my
husband had him of, what do you cal your Knights name sirrah?
  Rob. Sir Iohn Falstaffe

   Ford. Sir Iohn Falstaffe

   M.Pa. He, he, I can neuer hit on's name; there is such a
league betweene my goodman, and he: is your Wife at home
indeed?
  Ford. Indeed she is

   M.Pa. By your leaue sir, I am sicke till I see her

   Ford. Has Page any braines? Hath he any eies? Hath he
any thinking? Sure they sleepe, he hath no vse of them:
why this boy will carrie a letter twentie mile as easie, as
a Canon will shoot point-blanke twelue score: hee peeces
out his wiues inclination: he giues her folly motion
and aduantage: and now she's going to my wife, & Falstaffes
boy with her: A man may heare this showre sing
in the winde; and Falstaffes boy with her: good plots,
they are laide, and our reuolted wiues share damnation
together. Well, I will take him, then torture my wife,
plucke the borrowed vaile of modestie from the so-seeming
Mist[ris]. Page, divulge Page himselfe for a secure and
wilfull Acteon, and to these violent proceedings all my
neighbors shall cry aime. The clocke giues me my Qu,
and my assurance bids me search, there I shall finde Falstaffe:
I shall be rather praisd for this, then mock'd, for
it is as possitiue, as the earth is firme, that Falstaffe is
there: I will go

   Shal. Page, &c. Well met Mr Ford

   Ford. Trust me, a good knotte; I haue good cheere at
home, and I pray you all go with me

   Shal. I must excuse my selfe Mr Ford

   Slen. And so must I Sir,
We haue appointed to dine with Mistris Anne,
And I would not breake with her for more mony
Then Ile speake of

   Shal. We haue linger'd about a match betweene An
Page, and my cozen Slender, and this day wee shall haue
our answer

   Slen. I hope I haue your good will Father Page

   Pag. You haue Mr Slender, I stand wholly for you,
But my wife (Mr Doctor) is for you altogether

   Cai. I be-gar, and de Maid is loue-a-me: my nursh-a-Quickly
tell me so mush

   Host. What say you to yong Mr Fenton? He capers,
he dances, he has eies of youth: he writes verses, hee
speakes holliday, he smels April and May, he wil carry't,
he will carry't, 'tis in his buttons, he will carry't

   Page. Not by my consent I promise you. The Gentleman
is of no hauing, hee kept companie with the wilde
Prince, and Pointz: he is of too high a Region, he knows
too much: no, hee shall not knit a knot in his fortunes,
with the finger of my substance: if he take her, let him
take her simply: the wealth I haue waits on my consent,
and my consent goes not that way

   Ford. I beseech you heartily, some of you goe home
with me to dinner: besides your cheere you shall haue
sport, I will shew you a monster: Mr Doctor, you shal
go, so shall you Mr Page, and you Sir Hugh

   Shal. Well, fare you well:
We shall haue the freer woing at Mr Pages

   Cai. Go home Iohn Rugby, I come anon

   Host. Farewell my hearts, I will to my honest Knight
Falstaffe, and drinke Canarie with him

   Ford. I thinke I shall drinke in Pipe-wine first with
him, Ile make him dance. Will you go Gentles?
  All. Haue with you, to see this Monster.



Scena Tertia.

Enter M.Ford, M.Page, Seruants, Robin, Falstaffe, Ford, Page,
Caius,
Euans.

  Mist.Ford. What Iohn, what Robert

   M.Page. Quickly, quickly: Is the Buck-basket -
  Mis.Ford. I warrant. What Robin I say

   Mis.Page. Come, come, come

   Mist.Ford. Heere, set it downe

   M.Pag. Giue your men the charge, we must be briefe

   M.Ford. Marrie, as I told you before (Iohn & Robert)
be ready here hard-by in the Brew-house, & when I sodainly
call you, come forth, and (without any pause, or
staggering) take this basket on your shoulders: y done,
trudge with it in all hast, and carry it among the Whitsters
in Dotchet Mead, and there empty it in the muddie
ditch, close by the Thames side

   M.Page. You will do it?
  M.Ford. I ha told them ouer and ouer, they lacke no direction.
Be gone, and come when you are call'd

   M.Page. Here comes little Robin

   Mist.Ford. How now my Eyas-Musket, what newes with you?
  Rob. My M[aster]. Sir Iohn is come in at your backe doore
(Mist[ris]. Ford, and requests your company

   M.Page. You litle Iack-a-lent, haue you bin true to vs
  Rob. I, Ile be sworne: my Master knowes not of your
being heere: and hath threatned to put me into euerlasting
liberty, if I tell you of it: for he sweares he'll turne
me away

   Mist.Pag. Thou'rt a good boy: this secrecy of thine
shall be a Tailor to thee, and shal make thee a new doublet
and hose. Ile go hide me

   Mi.Ford. Do so: go tell thy Master, I am alone: Mistris
Page, remember you your Qu

   Mist.Pag. I warrant thee, if I do not act it, hisse me

   Mist.Ford. Go-too then: we'l vse this vnwholsome
humidity, this grosse-watry Pumpion; we'll teach him
to know Turtles from Iayes

   Fal. Haue I caught thee, my heauenly Iewell? Why
now let me die, for I haue liu'd long enough: This is the
period of my ambition: O this blessed houre

   Mist.Ford. O sweet Sir Iohn

   Fal. Mistris Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate (Mist[ris].
Ford) now shall I sin in my wish; I would thy Husband
were dead, Ile speake it before the best Lord, I would
make thee my Lady

   Mist.Ford. I your Lady Sir Iohn? Alas, I should bee a
pittifull Lady

   Fal. Let the Court of France shew me such another:
I see how thine eye would emulate the Diamond: Thou
hast the right arched-beauty of the brow, that becomes
the Ship-tyre, the Tyre-valiant, or any Tire of Venetian
admittance

   Mist.Ford. A plaine Kerchiefe, Sir Iohn:
My browes become nothing else, nor that well neither

   Fal. Thou art a tyrant to say so: thou wouldst make
an absolute Courtier, and the firme fixture of thy foote,
would giue an excellent motion to thy gate, in a semicircled
Farthingale. I see what thou wert if Fortune thy
foe, were not Nature thy friend: Come, thou canst not
hide it

   Mist.Ford. Beleeue me, ther's no such thing in me

   Fal. What made me loue thee? Let that perswade
thee. Ther's something extraordinary in thee: Come, I
cannot cog, and say thou art this and that, like a-manie
of these lisping-hauthorne buds, that come like women
in mens apparrell, and smell like Bucklers-berry in simple
time: I cannot, but I loue thee, none but thee; and
thou deseru'st it

   M.Ford. Do not betray me sir, I fear you loue M[istris]. Page

   Fal. Thou mightst as well say, I loue to walke by the
Counter-gate, which is as hatefull to me, as the reeke of
a Lime-kill

   Mis.Ford. Well, heauen knowes how I loue you,
And you shall one day finde it

   Fal. Keepe in that minde, Ile deserue it

   Mist.Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you doe;
Or else I could not be in that minde

   Rob. Mistris Ford, Mistris Ford: heere's Mistris Page at
the doore, sweating, and blowing, and looking wildely,
and would needs speake with you presently

   Fal. She shall not see me, I will ensconce mee behinde
the Arras

   M.Ford. Pray you do so, she's a very tatling woman.
Whats the matter? How now?
  Mist.Page. O mistris Ford what haue you done?
You'r sham'd, y'are ouerthrowne, y'are vndone for euer

   M.Ford. What's the matter, good mistris Page?
  M.Page. O weladay, mist[ris]. Ford, hauing an honest man
to your husband, to giue him such cause of suspition

   M.Ford. What cause of suspition?
  M.Page. What cause of suspition? Out vpon you:
How am I mistooke in you?
  M.Ford. Why (alas) what's the matter?
  M.Page. Your husband's comming hether (Woman)
with all the Officers in Windsor, to search for a Gentleman,
that he sayes is heere now in the house; by your
consent to take an ill aduantage of his absence: you are
vndone

   M.Ford. 'Tis not so, I hope

   M.Page. Pray heauen it be not so, that you haue such
a man heere: but 'tis most certaine your husband's comming,
with halfe Windsor at his heeles, to serch for such
a one, I come before to tell you: If you know your selfe
cleere, why I am glad of it: but if you haue a friend here,
conuey, conuey him out. Be not amaz'd, call all your
senses to you, defend your reputation, or bid farwell to
your good life for euer

   M.Ford. What shall I do? There is a Gentleman my
deere friend: and I feare not mine owne shame so much,
as his perill. I had rather then a thousand pound he were
out of the house

   M.Page. For shame, neuer stand (you had rather, and
you had rather:) your husband's heere at hand, bethinke
you of some conueyance: in the house you cannot hide
him. Oh, how haue you deceiu'd me? Looke, heere is a
basket, if he be of any reasonable stature, he may creepe
in heere, and throw fowle linnen vpon him, as if it were
going to bucking: Or it is whiting time, send him by
your two men to Datchet-Meade

   M.Ford. He's too big to go in there: what shall I do?
  Fal. Let me see't, let me see't, O let me see't:
Ile in, Ile in: Follow your friends counsell, Ile in

   M.Page. What Sir Iohn Falstaffe? Are these your Letters,
Knight?
  Fal. I loue thee, helpe mee away: let me creepe in
heere: ile neuer -
  M.Page. Helpe to couer your master (Boy:) Call
your men (Mist[ris]. Ford.) You dissembling Knight

   M.Ford. What Iohn, Robert, Iohn; Go, take vp these
cloathes heere, quickly: Wher's the Cowle-staffe? Look
how you drumble? Carry them to the Landresse in Datchet
mead: quickly, come

   Ford. 'Pray you come nere: if I suspect without cause,
Why then make sport at me, then let me be your iest,
I deserue it: How now? Whether beare you this?
  Ser. To the Landresse forsooth?
  M.Ford. Why, what haue you to doe whether they
beare it? You were best meddle with buck-washing

   Ford. Buck? I would I could wash my selfe of y Buck:
Bucke, bucke, bucke, I bucke: I warrant you Bucke,
And of the season too; it shall appeare.
Gentlemen, I haue dream'd to night, Ile tell you my
dreame: heere, heere, heere bee my keyes, ascend my
Chambers, search, seeke, finde out: Ile warrant wee'le
vnkennell the Fox. Let me stop this way first: so, now
vncape

   Page. Good master Ford, be contented:
You wrong your selfe too much

   Ford. True (master Page) vp Gentlemen,
You shall see sport anon:
Follow me Gentlemen

   Euans. This is fery fantasticall humors and iealousies

   Caius. By gar, 'tis no-the fashion of France:
It is not iealous in France

   Page. Nay follow him (Gentlemen) see the yssue of
his search

   Mist.Page. Is there not a double excellency in this?
  Mist.Ford. I know not which pleases me better,
That my husband is deceiued, or Sir Iohn

   Mist.Page. What a taking was hee in, when your
husband askt who was in the basket?
  Mist.Ford. I am halfe affraid he will haue neede of
washing: so throwing him into the water, will doe him
a benefit

   Mist.Page. Hang him dishonest rascall: I would all
of the same straine, were in the same distresse

   Mist.Ford. I thinke my husband hath some speciall
suspition of Falstaffs being heere: for I neuer saw him so
grosse in his iealousie till now

   Mist.Page. I will lay a plot to try that, and wee will
yet haue more trickes with Falstaffe: his dissolute disease
will scarse obey this medicine

   Mis.Ford. Shall we send that foolishion Carion, Mist[ris].
Quickly to him, and excuse his throwing into the water,
and giue him another hope, to betray him to another
punishment?
  Mist.Page. We will do it: let him be sent for to morrow
eight a clocke to haue amends

   Ford. I cannot finde him: may be the knaue bragg'd
of that he could not compasse

   Mis.Page. Heard you that?
  Mis.Ford. You vse me well, M[aster]. Ford? Do you?
  Ford. I, I do so

   M.Ford. Heauen make you better then your thoghts
  Ford. Amen

   Mi.Page. You do your selfe mighty wrong (M[aster]. Ford)
  Ford. I, I: I must beare it

   Eu. If there be any pody in the house, & in the chambers,
and in the coffers, and in the presses: heauen forgiue
my sins at the day of iudgement

   Caius. Be gar, nor I too: there is no-bodies

   Page. Fy, fy, M[aster]. Ford, are you not asham'd? What spirit,
what diuell suggests this imagination? I wold not ha
your distemper in this kind, for y welth of Windsor castle

   Ford. 'Tis my fault (M[aster]. Page) I suffer for it

   Euans. You suffer for a pad conscience: your wife is
as honest a o'mans, as I will desires among fiue thousand,
and fiue hundred too

   Cai. By gar, I see 'tis an honest woman

   Ford. Well, I promisd you a dinner: come, come, walk
in the Parke, I pray you pardon me: I wil hereafter make
knowne to you why I haue done this. Come wife, come
Mi[stris]. Page, I pray you pardon me. Pray hartly pardon me

   Page. Let's go in Gentlemen, but (trust me) we'l mock
him: I doe inuite you to morrow morning to my house
to breakfast: after we'll a Birding together, I haue a fine
Hawke for the bush. Shall it be so:
  Ford. Any thing

   Eu. If there is one, I shall make two in the Companie
  Ca. If there be one, or two, I shall make-a-theturd

   Ford. Pray you go, M[aster]. Page

   Eua. I pray you now remembrance to morrow on the
lowsie knaue, mine Host

   Cai. Dat is good by gar, withall my heart

   Eua. A lowsie knaue, to haue his gibes, and his mockeries.

Exeunt.


Scoena Quarta.

Enter Fenton, Anne, Page, Shallow, Slender, Quickly, Page,
Mist.Page.

  Fen. I see I cannot get thy Fathers loue,
Therefore no more turne me to him (sweet Nan.)
  Anne. Alas, how then?
  Fen. Why thou must be thy selfe.
He doth obiect, I am too great of birth,
And that my state being gall'd with my expence,
I seeke to heale it onely by his wealth.
Besides these, other barres he layes before me,
My Riots past, my wilde Societies,
And tels me 'tis a thing impossible
I should loue thee, but as a property

   An. May be he tels you true.
No, heauen so speed me in my time to come,
Albeit I will confesse, thy Fathers wealth
Was the first motiue that I woo'd thee (Anne:)
Yet wooing thee, I found thee of more valew
Then stampes in Gold, or summes in sealed bagges:
And 'tis the very riches of thy selfe,
That now I ayme at

   An. Gentle M[aster]. Fenton,
Yet seeke my Fathers loue, still seeke it sir,
If opportunity and humblest suite
Cannot attaine it, why then harke you hither

   Shal. Breake their talke Mistris Quickly.
My Kinsman shall speake for himselfe

   Slen. Ile make a shaft or a bolt on't, slid, tis but venturing

   Shal. Be not dismaid

   Slen. No, she shall not dismay me:
I care not for that, but that I am affeard

   Qui. Hark ye, M[aster]. Slender would speak a word with you
  An. I come to him. This is my Fathers choice:
O what a world of vilde ill-fauour'd faults
Lookes handsome in three hundred pounds a yeere?
  Qui. And how do's good Master Fenton?
Pray you a word with you

   Shal. Shee's comming; to her Coz:
O boy, thou hadst a father

   Slen. I had a father (M[istris]. An) my vncle can tel you good
iests of him: pray you Vncle, tel Mist[ris]. Anne the iest how
my Father stole two Geese out of a Pen, good Vnckle

   Shal. Mistris Anne, my Cozen loues you

   Slen. I that I do, as well as I loue any woman in Glocestershire

   Shal. He will maintaine you like a Gentlewoman

   Slen. I that I will, come cut and long-taile, vnder the
degree of a Squire

   Shal. He will make you a hundred and fiftie pounds
ioynture

   Anne. Good Maister Shallow let him woo for himselfe

   Shal. Marrie I thanke you for it: I thanke you for
that good comfort: she cals you (Coz) Ile leaue you

   Anne. Now Master Slender

   Slen. Now good Mistris Anne

   Anne. What is your will?
  Slen. My will? Odd's-hartlings, that's a prettie
iest indeede: I ne're made my Will yet (I thanke Heauen:)
I am not such a sickely creature, I giue Heauen
praise

   Anne. I meane (M[aster]. Slender) what wold you with me?
  Slen. Truely, for mine owne part, I would little or
nothing with you: your father and my vncle hath made
motions: if it be my lucke, so; if not, happy man bee his
dole, they can tell you how things go, better then I can:
you may aske your father, heere he comes

   Page. Now Mr Slender; Loue him daughter Anne.
Why how now? What does Mr Fenten here?
You wrong me Sir, thus still to haunt my house.
I told you Sir, my daughter is disposd of

   Fen. Nay Mr Page, be not impatient

   Mist.Page. Good M[aster]. Fenton, come not to my child

   Page. She is no match for you

   Fen. Sir, will you heare me?
  Page. No, good M[aster]. Fenton.
Come M[aster]. Shallow: Come sonne Slender, in;
Knowing my minde, you wrong me (M[aster]. Fenton.)
  Qui. Speake to Mistris Page

   Fen. Good Mist[ris]. Page, for that I loue your daughter
In such a righteous fashion as I do,
Perforce, against all checkes, rebukes, and manners,
I must aduance the colours of my loue,
And not retire. Let me haue your good will

   An. Good mother, do not marry me to yond foole

   Mist.Page. I meane it not, I seeke you a better husband

   Qui. That's my master, M[aster]. Doctor

   An. Alas I had rather be set quick i'th earth,
And bowl'd to death with Turnips

   Mist.Page. Come, trouble not your selfe good M[aster].
Fenton, I will not be your friend, nor enemy:
My daughter will I question how she loues you,
And as I finde her, so am I affected:
Till then, farewell Sir, she must needs go in,
Her father will be angry

   Fen. Farewell gentle Mistris: farewell Nan

   Qui. This is my doing now: Nay, saide I, will you
cast away your childe on a Foole, and a Physitian:
Looke on M[aster]. Fenton, this is my doing

   Fen. I thanke thee: and I pray thee once to night,
Giue my sweet Nan this Ring: there's for thy paines

   Qui. Now heauen send thee good fortune, a kinde
heart he hath: a woman would run through fire & water
for such a kinde heart. But yet, I would my Maister
had Mistris Anne, or I would M[aster]. Slender had her: or (in
sooth) I would M[aster]. Fenton had her; I will do what I can
for them all three, for so I haue promisd, and Ile bee as
good as my word, but speciously for M[aster]. Fenton. Well, I
must of another errand to Sir Iohn Falstaffe from my two
Mistresses: what a beast am I to slacke it.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Falstaffe, Bardolfe, Quickly, Ford.

  Fal. Bardolfe I say

   Bar. Heere Sir

   Fal. Go, fetch me a quart of Sacke, put a tost in't.
Haue I liu'd to be carried in a Basket like a barrow of
butchers Offall? and to be throwne in the Thames? Wel,
if I be seru'd such another tricke, Ile haue my braines
'tane out and butter'd, and giue them to a dogge for a
New-yeares gift. The rogues slighted me into the riuer
with as little remorse, as they would haue drown'de a
blinde bitches Puppies, fifteene i'th litter: and you may
know by my size, that I haue a kinde of alacrity in sinking:
if the bottome were as deepe as hell, I shold down.
I had beene drown'd, but that the shore was sheluy and
shallow: a death that I abhorre: for the water swelles a
man; and what a thing should I haue beene, when I
had beene swel'd? I should haue beene a Mountaine of
Mummie

   Bar. Here's M[istris]. Quickly Sir to speake with you

   Fal. Come, let me poure in some Sack to the Thames
water: for my bellies as cold as if I had swallow'd snowbals,
for pilles to coole the reines. Call her in

   Bar. Come in woman

   Qui. By your leaue: I cry you mercy?
Giue your worship good morrow

   Fal. Take away these Challices:
Go, brew me a pottle of Sacke finely

   Bard. With Egges, Sir?
  Fal. Simple of it selfe: Ile no Pullet-Spersme in my
brewage. How now?
  Qui. Marry Sir, I come to your worship from M[istris]. Ford

   Fal. Mist[ris]. Ford? I haue had Ford enough: I was thrown
into the Ford; I haue my belly full of Ford

   Qui. Alas the day, (good-heart) that was not her
fault: she do's so take on with her men; they mistooke
their erection

   Fal. So did I mine, to build vpon a foolish Womans promise

   Qui. Well, she laments Sir for it, that it would yern
your heart to see it: her husband goes this morning a
birding; she desires you once more to come to her, betweene
eight and nine: I must carry her word quickely,
she'll make you amends I warrant you

   Fal. Well, I will visit her, tell her so: and bidde her
thinke what a man is: Let her consider his frailety, and
then iudge of my merit

   Qui. I will tell her

   Fal. Do so. Betweene nine and ten saist thou?
  Qui. Eight and nine Sir

   Fal. Well, be gone: I will not misse her

   Qui. Peace be with you Sir

   Fal. I meruaile I heare not of Mr Broome: he sent me
word to stay within: I like his money well.
Oh, heere he comes

   Ford. Blesse you Sir

   Fal. Now M[aster]. Broome, you come to know
What hath past betweene me, and Fords wife

   Ford. That indeed (Sir Iohn) is my businesse

   Fal. M[aster]. Broome I will not lye to you,
I was at her house the houre she appointed me

   Ford. And sped you Sir?
  Fal. Very ill-fauouredly M[aster]. Broome

   Ford. How so sir, did she change her determination?
  Fal. No (M[aster]. Broome) but the peaking Curnuto her husband
(M[aster]. Broome) dwelling in a continual larum of ielousie,
coms me in the instant of our encounter, after we had
embrast, kist, protested, & (as it were) spoke the prologue
of our Comedy: and at his heeles, a rabble of his companions,
thither prouoked and instigated by his distemper,
and (forsooth) to serch his house for his wiues Loue

   Ford. What? While you were there?
  Fal. While I was there

   For. And did he search for you, & could not find you?
  Fal. You shall heare. As good lucke would haue it,
comes in one Mist[ris]. Page, giues intelligence of Fords approch:
and in her inuention, and Fords wiues distraction,
they conuey'd me into a bucke-basket

   Ford. A Buck-basket?
  Fal. Yes: a Buck-basket: ram'd mee in with foule
Shirts and Smockes, Socks, foule Stockings, greasie
Napkins, that (Master Broome) there was the rankest
compound of villanous smell, that euer offended nostrill

   Ford. And how long lay you there?
  Fal. Nay, you shall heare (Master Broome) what I
haue sufferd, to bring this woman to euill, for your
good: Being thus cram'd in the Basket, a couple of
Fords knaues, his Hindes, were cald forth by their Mistris,
to carry mee in the name of foule Cloathes to
Datchet-lane: they tooke me on their shoulders: met
the iealous knaue their Master in the doore; who
ask'd them once or twice what they had in their Basket?
I quak'd for feare least the Lunatique Knaue
would haue search'd it: but Fate (ordaining he should
be a Cuckold) held his hand: well, on went hee, for
a search, and away went I for foule Cloathes: But
marke the sequell (Master Broome) I suffered the pangs
of three seuerall deaths: First, an intollerable fright,
to be detected with a iealious rotten Bell-weather:
Next to be compass'd like a good Bilbo in the circumference
of a Pecke, hilt to point, heele to head. And
then to be stopt in like a strong distillation with stinking
Cloathes, that fretted in their owne grease:
thinke of that, a man of my Kidney; thinke of that,
that am as subiect to heate as butter; a man of continuall
dissolution, and thaw: it was a miracle to scape
suffocation. And in the height of this Bath (when I
was more then halfe stew'd in grease (like a Dutch-dish)
to be throwne into the Thames, and
coold, glowing-hot, in that serge like a Horse-shoo;
thinke of that; hissing hot: thinke of that (Master
Broome.)
  Ford. In good sadnesse Sir, I am sorry, that for my sake
you haue sufferd all this.
My suite then is desperate: You'll vndertake her no
more?
  Fal. Master Broome: I will be throwne into Etna,
as I haue beene into Thames, ere I will leaue her thus;
her Husband is this morning gone a Birding: I
haue receiued from her another ambassie of meeting:
'twixt eight and nine is the houre (Master
Broome.)
  Ford. 'Tis past eight already Sir

   Fal. Is it? I will then addresse mee to my appointment:
Come to mee at your conuenient leisure, and
you shall know how I speede: and the conclusion
shall be crowned with your enioying her: adiew: you
shall haue her (Master Broome) Master Broome, you shall
cuckold Ford

   Ford. Hum: ha? Is this a vision? Is this a dreame?
doe I sleepe? Master Ford awake, awake Master Ford:
ther's a hole made in your best coate (Master Ford:) this
'tis to be married; this 'tis to haue Lynnen, and Buckbaskets:
Well, I will proclaime my selfe what I am:
I will now take the Leacher: hee is at my house: hee
cannot scape me: 'tis impossible hee should: hee cannot
creepe into a halfe-penny purse, nor into a PepperBoxe:
But least the Diuell that guides him, should
aide him, I will search impossible places: though
what I am, I cannot auoide; yet to be what I would
not, shall not make me tame: If I haue hornes, to make
one mad, let the prouerbe goe with me, Ile be hornemad.

Exeunt.


Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Mistris Page, Quickly, William, Euans.

  Mist.Pag. Is he at M[aster]. Fords already think'st thou?
  Qui. Sure he is by this; or will be presently; but
truely he is very couragious mad, about his throwing
into the water. Mistris Ford desires you to come sodainely

   Mist.Pag. Ile be with her by and by: Ile but bring
my yong-man here to Schoole: looke where his Master
comes; 'tis a playing day I see: how now Sir Hugh, no
Schoole to day?
  Eua. No: Master Slender is let the Boyes leaue to play

   Qui 'Blessing of his heart

   Mist.Pag. Sir Hugh, my husband saies my sonne profits
nothing in the world at his Booke: I pray you aske
him some questions in his Accidence

   Eu. Come hither William; hold vp your head; come

   Mist.Pag. Come-on Sirha; hold vp your head; answere
your Master, be not afraid

   Eua. William, how many Numbers is in Nownes?
  Will. Two

   Qui. Truely, I thought there had bin one Number
more, because they say od's-Nownes

   Eua. Peace, your tatlings. What is (Faire) William?
  Will. Pulcher

   Qu. Powlcats? there are fairer things then Powlcats,
sure

   Eua. You are a very simplicity o'man: I pray you
peace. What is (Lapis) William?
  Will. A Stone

   Eua. And what is a Stone (William?)
  Will. A Peeble

   Eua. No; it is Lapis: I pray you remember in your
praine

   Will. Lapis

   Eua. That is a good William: what is he (William) that
do's lend Articles

   Will. Articles are borrowed of the Pronoune; and be
thus declined. Singulariter nominatiuo hic, haec, hoc

   Eua. Nominatiuo hig, hag, hog: pray you marke: genitiuo
huius: Well: what is your Accusatiue-case?
  Will. Accusatiuo hinc

   Eua. I pray you haue your remembrance (childe) Accusatiuo
hing, hang, hog

   Qu. Hang-hog, is latten for Bacon, I warrant you

   Eua. Leaue your prables (o'man) What is the Focatiue
case (William?)
  Will. O, Vocatiuo, O

   Eua. Remember William, Focatiue, is caret

   Qu. And that's a good roote

   Eua. O'man, forbeare

   Mist.Pag. Peace

   Eua. What is your Genitiue case plurall (William?)
  Will. Genitiue case?
  Eua. I

   Will. Genitiue horum, harum, horum

   Qu. 'Vengeance of Ginyes case; fie on her; neuer
name her (childe) if she be a whore

   Eua. For shame o'man

   Qu. You doe ill to teach the childe such words: hee
teaches him to hic, and to hac; which they'll doe fast
enough of themselues, and to call horum; fie vpon you

   Euans. O'man, art thou Lunatics? Hast thou no vnderstandings
for thy Cases, & the numbers of the Genders?
Thou art as foolish Christian creatures, as I would
desires

   Mi.Page. Pre'thee hold thy peace

   Eu. Shew me now (William) some declensions of your
Pronounes

   Will. Forsooth, I haue forgot

   Eu. It is Qui, que, quod; if you forget your Quies,
your Ques, and your Quods, you must be preeches: Goe
your waies and play, go

   M.Pag. He is a better scholler then I thought he was

   Eu. He is a good sprag-memory: Farewel Mis[tris]. Page

   Mis.Page. Adieu good Sir Hugh:
Get you home boy, Come we stay too long.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Falstoffe, Mist.Ford, Mist.Page, Seruants, Ford, Page, Caius,
Euans,
Shallow.

  Fal. Mi[stris]. Ford, Your sorrow hath eaten vp my sufferance;
I see you are obsequious in your loue, and I professe
requitall to a haires bredth, not onely Mist[ris]. Ford,
in the simple office of loue, but in all the accustrement,
complement, and ceremony of it: But are you sure of
your husband now?
  Mis.Ford. Hee's a birding (sweet Sir Iohn.)
  Mis.Page. What hoa, gossip Ford: what hoa

   Mis.Ford. Step into th' chamber, Sir Iohn

   Mis.Page. How now (sweete heart) whose at home
besides your selfe?
  Mis.Ford. Why none but mine owne people

   Mis.Page. Indeed?
  Mis.Ford. No certainly: Speake louder

   Mist.Pag. Truly, I am so glad you haue no body here

   Mist.Ford. Why?
  Mis.Page. Why woman, your husband is in his olde
lines againe: he so takes on yonder with my husband, so
railes against all married mankinde; so curses all Eues
daughters, of what complexion soeuer; and so buffettes
himselfe on the for-head: crying peere-out, peere-out,
that any madnesse I euer yet beheld, seem'd but tamenesse,
ciuility, and patience to this his distemper he is in
now: I am glad the fat Knight is not heere

   Mist.Ford. Why, do's he talke of him?
  Mist.Page. Of none but him, and sweares he was caried
out the last time hee search'd for him, in a Basket:
Protests to my husband he is now heere, & hath drawne
him and the rest of their company from their sport, to
make another experiment of his suspition: But I am glad
the Knight is not heere; now he shall see his owne foolerie

   Mist.Ford. How neere is he Mistris Page?
  Mist.Pag. Hard by, at street end; he wil be here anon

   Mist.Ford. I am vndone, the Knight is heere

   Mist.Page. Why then you are vtterly sham'd, & hee's
but a dead man. What a woman are you? Away with
him, away with him: Better shame, then murther

   Mist.Ford. Which way should he go? How should I
bestow him? Shall I put him into the basket againe?
  Fal. No, Ile come no more i'th Basket:
May I not go out ere he come?
  Mist.Page. Alas: three of Mr. Fords brothers watch
the doore with Pistols, that none shall issue out: otherwise
you might slip away ere hee came: But what make
you heere?
  Fal. What shall I do? Ile creepe vp into the chimney

   Mist.Ford. There they alwaies vse to discharge their
Birding-peeces: creepe into the Kill-hole

   Fal. Where is it?
  Mist.Ford. He will seeke there on my word: Neyther
Presse, Coffer, Chest, Trunke, Well, Vault, but he hath
an abstract for the remembrance of such places, and goes
to them by his Note: There is no hiding you in the
house

   Fal. Ile go out then

   Mist.Ford. If you goe out in your owne semblance,
you die Sir Iohn, vnlesse you go out disguis'd

   Mist.Ford. How might we disguise him?
  Mist.Page. Alas the day I know not, there is no womans
gowne bigge enough for him: otherwise he might
put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchiefe, and so escape

   Fal. Good hearts, deuise something: any extremitie,
rather then a mischiefe

   Mist.Ford. My Maids Aunt the fat woman of Brainford,
has a gowne aboue

   Mist.Page. On my word it will serue him: shee's as
big as he is: and there's her thrum'd hat, and her muffler
too: run vp Sir Iohn

   Mist.Ford. Go, go, sweet Sir Iohn: Mistris Page and
I will looke some linnen for your head

   Mist.Page. Quicke, quicke, wee'le come dresse you
straight: put on the gowne the while

   Mist.Ford. I would my husband would meete him
in this shape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford;
he sweares she's a witch, forbad her my house, and
hath threatned to beate her

   Mist.Page. Heauen guide him to thy husbands cudgell:
and the diuell guide his cudgell afterwards

   Mist.Ford. But is my husband comming?
  Mist.Page. I in good sadnesse is he, and talkes of the
basket too, howsoeuer he hath had intelligence

   Mist.Ford. Wee'l try that: for Ile appoint my men to
carry the basket againe, to meete him at the doore with
it, as they did last time

   Mist.Page. Nay, but hee'l be heere presently: let's go
dresse him like the witch of Brainford

   Mist.Ford. Ile first direct my men, what they
shall doe with the basket: Goe vp, Ile bring linnen for
him straight

   Mist.Page. Hang him dishonest Varlet,
We cannot misuse enough:
We'll leaue a proofe by that which we will doo,
Wiues may be merry, and yet honest too:
We do not acte that often, iest, and laugh,
'Tis old, but true, Still Swine eats all the draugh

   Mist.Ford. Go Sirs, take the basket againe on your
shoulders: your Master is hard at doore: if hee bid you
set it downe, obey him: quickly, dispatch

   1 Ser. Come, come, take it vp

   2 Ser. Pray heauen it be not full of Knight againe

   1 Ser. I hope not, I had liefe as beare so much lead

   Ford. I, but if it proue true (Mr. Page) haue you any
way then to vnfoole me againe. Set downe the basket
villaine: some body call my wife: Youth in a basket:
Oh you Panderly Rascals, there's a knot: a gin, a packe,
a conspiracie against me: Now shall the diuel be sham'd.
What wife I say: Come, come forth: behold what honest
cloathes you send forth to bleaching

   Page. Why, this passes M[aster]. Ford: you are not to goe
loose any longer, you must be pinnion'd

   Euans. Why, this is Lunaticks: this is madde, as a
mad dogge

   Shall. Indeed M[aster]. Ford, this is not well indeed

   Ford. So say I too Sir, come hither Mistris Ford, Mistris
Ford, the honest woman, the modest wife, the vertuous
creature, that hath the iealious foole to her husband:
I suspect without cause (Mistris) do I?
  Mist.Ford. Heauen be my witnesse you doe, if you
suspect me in any dishonesty

   Ford. Well said Brazon-face, hold it out: Come forth
sirrah

   Page. This passes

   Mist.Ford. Are you not asham'd, let the cloths alone

   Ford. I shall finde you anon

   Eua. 'Tis vnreasonable; will you take vp your wiues
cloathes? Come, away

   Ford. Empty the basket I say

   M.Ford. Why man, why?
  Ford. Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conuay'd
out of my house yesterday in this basket: why
may not he be there againe, in my house I am sure he is:
my Intelligence is true, my iealousie is reasonable, pluck
me out all the linnen

   Mist.Ford. If you find a man there, he shall dye a Fleas
death

   Page. Heer's no man

   Shal. By my fidelity this is not well Mr. Ford: This
wrongs you

   Euans. Mr Ford, you must pray, and not follow the
imaginations of your owne heart: this is iealousies

   Ford. Well, hee's not heere I seeke for

   Page. No, nor no where else but in your braine

   Ford. Helpe to search my house this one time: if I find
not what I seeke, shew no colour for my extremity: Let
me for euer be your Table-sport: Let them say of me, as
iealous as Ford, that search'd a hollow Wall-nut for his
wiues Lemman. Satisfie me once more, once more serch
with me

   M.Ford. What hoa (Mistris Page,) come you and
the old woman downe: my husband will come into the
Chamber

   Ford. Old woman? what old womans that?
  M.Ford. Why it is my maids Aunt of Brainford

   Ford. A witch, a Queane, an olde couzening queane:
Haue I not forbid her my house. She comes of errands
do's she? We are simple men, wee doe not know what's
brought to passe vnder the profession of Fortune-telling.
She workes by Charmes, by Spels, by th' Figure, & such
dawbry as this is, beyond our Element: wee know nothing.
Come downe you Witch, you Hagge you, come
downe I say

   Mist.Ford. Nay, good sweet husband, good Gentlemen,
let him strike the old woman

   Mist.Page. Come mother Prat, Come giue me your
hand

   Ford. Ile Prat-her: Out of my doore, you Witch,
you Ragge, you Baggage, you Poulcat, you Runnion,
out, out: Ile coniure you, Ile fortune-tell you

   Mist.Page. Are you not asham'd?
I thinke you haue kill'd the poore woman

   Mist.Ford. Nay he will do it, 'tis a goodly credite
for you

   Ford. Hang her witch

   Eua. By yea, and no, I thinke the o'man is a witch indeede:
I like not when a o'man has a great peard; I spie
a great peard vnder his muffler

   Ford. Will you follow Gentlemen, I beseech you follow:
see but the issue of my iealousie: If I cry out thus
vpon no traile, neuer trust me when I open againe

   Page. Let's obey his humour a little further:
Come Gentlemen

   Mist.Page. Trust me he beate him most pittifully

   Mist.Ford. Nay by th' Masse that he did not: he beate
him most vnpittifully, me thought

   Mist.Page. Ile haue the cudgell hallow'd, and hung
ore the Altar, it hath done meritorious seruice

   Mist.Ford. What thinke you? May we with the warrant
of woman-hood, and the witnesse of a good conscience,
pursue him with any further reuenge?
  M.Page. The spirit of wantonnesse is sure scar'd out
of him, if the diuell haue him not in fee-simple, with
fine and recouery, he will neuer (I thinke) in the way of
waste, attempt vs againe

   Mist.Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how wee haue
seru'd him?
  Mist.Page. Yes, by all meanes: if it be but to scrape
the figures out of your husbands braines: if they can find
in their hearts, the poore vnuertuous fat Knight shall be
any further afflicted, wee two will still bee the ministers

   Mist.Ford. Ile warrant, they'l haue him publiquely
sham'd, and me thinkes there would be no period to the
iest, should he not be publikely sham'd

   Mist.Page. Come, to the Forge with it, then shape it:
I would not haue things coole.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Host and Bardolfe.

  Bar. Sir, the Germane desires to haue three of your
horses: the Duke himselfe will be to morrow at Court,
and they are going to meet him

   Host. What Duke should that be comes so secretly?
I heare not of him in the Court: let mee speake with the
Gentlemen, they speake English?
  Bar. I Sir? Ile call him to you

   Host. They shall haue my horses, but Ile make them
pay: Ile sauce them, they haue had my houses a week at
commaund: I haue turn'd away my other guests, they
must come off, Ile sawce them, come.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Page, Ford, Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, and Euans.

  Eua. 'Tis one of the best discretions of a o'man as euer
I did looke vpon

   Page. And did he send you both these Letters at an
instant?
  Mist.Page. Within a quarter of an houre

   Ford. Pardon me (wife) henceforth do what y wilt:
I rather will suspect the Sunne with gold,
Then thee with wantonnes: Now doth thy honor stand
(In him that was of late an Heretike)
As firme as faith

   Page. 'Tis well, 'tis well, no more:
Be not as extreme in submission, as in offence,
But let our plot go forward: Let our wiues
Yet once againe (to make vs publike sport)
Appoint a meeting with this old fat-fellow,
Where we may take him, and disgrace him for it

   Ford. There is no better way then that they spoke of

   Page. How? to send him word they'll meete him in
the Parke at midnight? Fie, fie, he'll neuer come

   Eu. You say he has bin throwne in the Riuers: and
has bin greeuously peaten, as an old o'man: me-thinkes
there should be terrors in him, that he should not come:
Me-thinkes his flesh is punish'd, hee shall haue no desires

   Page. So thinke I too

   M.Ford. Deuise but how you'l vse him whe[n] he comes,
And let vs two deuise to bring him thether

   Mis.Page. There is an old tale goes, that Herne the
Hunter (sometime a keeper heere in Windsor Forrest)
Doth all the winter time, at still midnight
Walke round about an Oake, with great rag'd-hornes,
And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle,
And make milch-kine yeeld blood, and shakes a chaine
In a most hideous and dreadfull manner.
You haue heard of such a Spirit, and well you know
The superstitious idle-headed-Eld
Receiu'd, and did deliuer to our age
This tale of Herne the Hunter, for a truth

   Page. Why yet there want not many that do feare
In deepe of night to walke by this Hernes Oake:
But what of this?
  Mist.Ford. Marry this is our deuise,
That Falstaffe at that Oake shall meete with vs

   Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come,
And in this shape, when you haue brought him thether,
What shall be done with him? What is your plot?
  Mist.Pa. That likewise haue we thoght vpon: & thus:
Nan Page (my daughter) and my little sonne,
And three or foure more of their growth, wee'l dresse
Like Vrchins, Ouphes, and Fairies, greene and white,
With rounds of waxen Tapers on their heads,
And rattles in their hands; vpon a sodaine,
As Falstaffe, she, and I, are newly met,
Let them from forth a saw-pit rush at once
With some diffused song: Vpon their sight
We two, in great amazednesse will flye:
Then let them all encircle him about,
And Fairy-like to pinch the vncleane Knight;
And aske him why that houre of Fairy Reuell,
In their so sacred pathes, he dares to tread
In shape prophane

   Ford. And till he tell the truth,
Let the supposed Fairies pinch him, sound,
And burne him with their Tapers

   Mist.Page. The truth being knowne,
We'll all present our selues; dis-horne the spirit,
And mocke him home to Windsor

   Ford. The children must
Be practis'd well to this, or they'll neu'r doo't

   Eua. I will teach the children their behauiours: and I
will be like a Iacke-an-Apes also, to burne the Knight
with my Taber

   Ford. That will be excellent,
Ile go buy them vizards

   Mist.Page. My Nan shall be the Queene of all the
Fairies, finely attired in a robe of white

   Page. That silke will I go buy, and in that time
Shall M[aster]. Slender steale my Nan away,
And marry her at Eaton: go, send to Falstaffe straight

   Ford. Nay, Ile to him againe in name of Broome,
Hee'l tell me all his purpose: sure hee'l come

   Mist.Page. Feare not you that: Go get vs properties
And tricking for our Fayries

   Euans. Let vs about it,
It is admirable pleasures, and ferry honest knaueries

   Mis.Page. Go Mist[ris]. Ford,
Send quickly to Sir Iohn, to know his minde:
Ile to the Doctor, he hath my good will,
And none but he to marry with Nan Page:
That Slender (though well landed) is an Ideot:
And he, my husband best of all affects:
The Doctor is well monied, and his friends
Potent at Court: he, none but he shall haue her,
Though twenty thousand worthier come to craue her.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Host, Simple, Falstaffe, Bardolfe, Euans, Caius, Quickly.

  Host. What wouldst thou haue? (Boore) what? (thick
skin) speake, breathe, discusse: breefe, short, quicke,
snap

   Simp. Marry Sir, I come to speake with Sir Iohn Falstaffe
from M[aster]. Slender

   Host. There's his Chamber, his House, his Castle,
his standing-bed and truckle-bed: 'tis painted about
with the story of the Prodigall, fresh and new: go, knock
and call: hee'l speake like an Anthropophaginian vnto
thee: Knocke I say

   Simp. There's an olde woman, a fat woman gone vp
into his chamber: Ile be so bold as stay Sir till she come
downe: I come to speake with her indeed

   Host. Ha? A fat woman? The Knight may be robb'd:
Ile call. Bully-Knight, Bully Sir Iohn: speake from thy
Lungs Military: Art thou there? It is thine Host, thine
Ephesian cals

   Fal. How now, mine Host?
  Host. Here's a Bohemian-Tartar taries the comming
downe of thy fat-woman: Let her descend (Bully) let
her descend: my Chambers are honourable: Fie, priuacy?
Fie

   Fal. There was (mine Host) an old-fat-woman euen
now with me, but she's gone

   Simp. Pray you Sir, was't not the Wise-woman of
Brainford?
  Fal. I marry was it (Mussel-shell) what would you
with her?
  Simp. My Master (Sir) my master Slender, sent to her
seeing her go thorough the streets, to know (Sir) whether
one Nim (Sir) that beguil'd him of a chaine, had the
chaine, or no

   Fal. I spake with the old woman about it

   Sim. And what sayes she, I pray Sir?
  Fal. Marry shee sayes, that the very same man that
beguil'd Master Slender of his Chaine, cozon'd him of it

   Simp. I would I could haue spoken with the Woman
her selfe, I had other things to haue spoken with her
too, from him

   Fal. What are they? let vs know

   Host. I: come: quicke

   Fal. I may not conceale them (Sir.)
  Host. Conceale them, or thou di'st

   Sim. Why sir, they were nothing but about Mistris
Anne Page, to know if it were my Masters fortune to
haue her, or no

   Fal. 'Tis, 'tis his fortune

   Sim. What Sir?
  Fal. To haue her, or no: goe; say the woman told
me so

   Sim. May I be bold to say so Sir?
  Fal. I Sir: like who more bold

   Sim. I thanke your worship: I shall make my Master
glad with these tydings

   Host. Thou art clearkly: thou art clearkly (Sir Iohn)
was there a wise woman with thee?
  Fal. I that there was (mine Host) one that hath taught
me more wit, then euer I learn'd before in my life: and
I paid nothing for it neither, but was paid for my learning

   Bar. Out alas (Sir) cozonage: meere cozonage

   Host. Where be my horses? speake well of them varletto

   Bar. Run away with the cozoners: for so soone as
I came beyond Eaton, they threw me off, from behinde
one of them, in a slough of myre; and set spurres, and
away; like three Germane-diuels; three Doctor Faustasses

   Host. They are gone but to meete the Duke (villaine)
doe not say they be fled: Germanes are honest men

   Euan. Where is mine Host?
  Host. What is the matter Sir?
  Euan. Haue a care of your entertainments: there is a
friend of mine come to Towne, tels mee there is three
Cozen-Iermans, that has cozend all the Hosts of Reading,
of Maidenhead; of Cole-brooke, of horses and money: I
tell you for good will (looke you) you are wise, and full
of gibes, and vlouting-stocks: and 'tis not conuenient
you should be cozoned. Fare you well

   Cai. Ver' is mine Host de Iarteere?
  Host. Here (Master Doctor) in perplexitie, and doubtfull
delemma

   Cai. I cannot tell vat is dat: but it is tell-a-me, dat
you make grand preparation for a Duke de Iamanie: by
my trot: der is no Duke that the Court is know, to
come: I tell you for good will: adieu

   Host. Huy and cry, (villaine) goe: assist me Knight, I
am vndone: fly, run: huy, and cry (villaine) I am vndone

   Fal. I would all the world might be cozond, for I
haue beene cozond and beaten too: if it should come
to the eare of the Court, how I haue beene transformed;
and how my transformation hath beene washd, and
cudgeld, they would melt mee out of my fat drop by
drop, and liquor Fishermens-boots with me: I warrant
they would whip me with their fine wits, till I were as
crest-falne as a dride-peare: I neuer prosper'd, since I
forswore my selfe at Primero: well, if my winde were
but long enough; I would repent: Now? Whence come
you?
  Qui. From the two parties forsooth

   Fal. The Diuell take one partie, and his Dam the
other: and so they shall be both bestowed; I haue suffer'd
more for their sakes; more then the villanous inconstancy
of mans disposition is able to beare

   Qui. And haue not they suffer'd? Yes, I warrant; speciously
one of them; Mistris Ford (good heart) is beaten
blacke and blew, that you cannot see a white spot about
her

   Fal. What tell'st thou mee of blacke, and blew? I
was beaten my selfe into all the colours of the Rainebow:
and I was like to be apprehended for the Witch
of Braineford, but that my admirable dexteritie of wit,
my counterfeiting the action of an old woman deliuer'd
me, the knaue Constable had set me ith' Stocks, ith' common
Stocks, for a Witch

   Qu, Sir: let me speake with you in your Chamber,
you shall heare how things goe, and (I warrant) to your
content: here is a Letter will say somewhat: (good-hearts)
what adoe here is to bring you together? Sure,
one of you do's not serue heauen well, that you are so
cross'd

   Fal. Come vp into my Chamber.

Exeunt.


Scena Sexta.

Enter Fenton, Host.

  Host. Master Fenton, talke not to mee, my minde is
heauy: I will giue ouer all

   Fen. Yet heare me speake: assist me in my purpose,
And (as I am a gentleman) ile giue thee
A hundred pound in gold, more then your losse

   Host. I will heare you (Master Fenton) and I will (at
the least) keepe your counsell

   Fen. From time to time, I haue acquainted you
With the deare loue I beare to faire Anne Page,
Who, mutually, hath answer'd my affection,
(So farre forth, as her selfe might be her chooser)
Euen to my wish; I haue a letter from her
Of such contents, as you will wonder at;
The mirth whereof, so larded with my matter,
That neither (singly) can be manifested
Without the shew of both: fat Falstaffe
Hath a great Scene; the image of the iest
Ile show you here at large (harke good mine Host:)
To night at Hernes-Oke, iust 'twixt twelue and one,
Must my sweet Nan present the Faerie-Queene:
The purpose why, is here: in which disguise
While other Iests are something ranke on foote,
Her father hath commanded her to slip
Away with Slender, and with him, at Eaton
Immediately to Marry: She hath consented: Now Sir,
Her Mother, (euen strong against that match
And firme for Doctor Caius) hath appointed
That he shall likewise shuffle her away,
While other sports are tasking of their mindes,
And at the Deanry, where a Priest attends
Strait marry her: to this her Mothers plot
She seemingly obedient) likewise hath
Made promise to the Doctor: Now, thus it rests,
Her Father meanes she shall be all in white;
And in that habit, when Slender sees his time
To take her by the hand, and bid her goe,
She shall goe with him: her Mother hath intended
(The better to deuote her to the Doctor;
For they must all be mask'd, and vizarded)
That quaint in greene, she shall be loose en-roab'd,
With Ribonds-pendant, flaring 'bout her head;
And when the Doctor spies his vantage ripe,
To pinch her by the hand, and on that token,
The maid hath giuen consent to go with him

   Host. Which meanes she to deceiue? Father, or Mother

   Fen. Both (my good Host) to go along with me:
And heere it rests, that you'l procure the Vicar
To stay for me at Church, 'twixt twelue, and one,
And in the lawfull name of marrying,
To giue our hearts vnited ceremony

   Host. Well, husband your deuice; Ile to the Vicar,
Bring you the Maid, you shall not lacke a Priest

   Fen. So shall I euermore be bound to thee;
Besides, Ile make a present recompence.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Falstoffe, Quickly, and Ford.

  Fal. Pre'thee no more pratling: go, Ile hold, this is
the third time: I hope good lucke lies in odde numbers:
Away, go, they say there is Diuinity in odde Numbers,
either in natiuity, chance, or death: away

   Qui. Ile prouide you a chaine, and Ile do what I can
to get you a paire of hornes

   Fall. Away I say, time weares, hold vp your head &
mince. How now M[aster]. Broome? Master Broome, the matter
will be knowne to night, or neuer. Bee you in the
Parke about midnight, at Hernes-Oake, and you shall
see wonders

   Ford. Went you not to her yesterday (Sir) as you told
me you had appointed?
  Fal. I went to her (Master Broome) as you see, like a
poore-old-man, but I came from her (Master Broome)
like a poore-old-woman; that same knaue (Ford hir husband)
hath the finest mad diuell of iealousie in him (Master
Broome) that euer gouern'd Frensie. I will tell you,
he beate me greeuously, in the shape of a woman: (for in
the shape of Man (Master Broome) I feare not Goliath
with a Weauers beame, because I know also, life is a
Shuttle) I am in hast, go along with mee, Ile tell you all
(Master Broome:) since I pluckt Geese, plaide Trewant,
and whipt Top, I knew not what 'twas to be beaten, till
lately. Follow mee, Ile tell you strange things of this
knaue Ford, on whom to night I will be reuenged, and I
will deliuer his wife into your hand. Follow, straunge
things in hand (M[aster]. Broome) follow.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Page, Shallow, Slender.

  Page. Come, come: wee'll couch i'th Castle-ditch,
till we see the light of our Fairies. Remember son Slender,
my
  Slen. I forsooth, I haue spoke with her, & we haue
a nay-word, how to know one another. I come to her
in white, and cry Mum; she cries Budget, and by that
we know one another

   Shal. That's good too: But what needes either your
Mum, or her Budget? The white will decipher her well
enough. It hath strooke ten a' clocke

   Page. The night is darke, Light and Spirits will become
it wel: Heauen prosper our sport. No man means
euill but the deuill, and we shal know him by his hornes.
Lets away: follow me.

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

Enter Mist.Page, Mist.Ford, Caius.

  Mist.Page. Mr Doctor, my daughter is in green, when
you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her
to the Deanerie, and dispatch it quickly: go before into
the Parke: we two must go together

   Cai. I know vat I haue to do, adieu

   Mist.Page. Fare you well (Sir:) my husband will not
reioyce so much at the abuse of Falstaffe, as he will chafe
at the Doctors marrying my daughter: But 'tis no matter;
better a little chiding, then a great deale of heartbreake

   Mist.Ford. Where is Nan now? and her troop of Fairies?
and the Welch-deuill Herne?
  Mist.Page. They are all couch'd in a pit hard by Hernes
Oake, with obscur'd Lights; which at the very instant
of Falstaffes and our meeting, they will at once display to
the night

   Mist.Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him

   Mist.Page. If he be not amaz'd he will be mock'd: If
he be amaz'd, he will euery way be mock'd

   Mist.Ford. Wee'll betray him finely

   Mist.Page. Against such Lewdsters, and their lechery,
Those that betray them, do no treachery

   Mist.Ford. The houre drawes-on: to the Oake, to the
Oake.

Exeunt.


Scena Quarta.

Enter Euans and Fairies.

  Euans. Trib, trib Fairies: Come, and remember your
parts: be pold (I pray you) follow me into the pit, and
when I giue the watch-'ords, do as I pid you: Come,
come, trib, trib.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Falstaffe, Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, Euans, Anne Page,
Fairies,
Page, Ford, Quickly, Slender, Fenton, Caius, Pistoll.

  Fal. The Windsor-bell hath stroke twelue: the Minute
drawes-on: Now the hot-bloodied-Gods assist me:
Remember Ioue, thou was't a Bull for thy Europa, Loue
set on thy hornes. O powerfull Loue, that in some respects
makes a Beast a Man: in som other, a Man a beast.
You were also (Iupiter) a Swan, for the loue of Leda: O
omnipotent Loue, how nere the God drew to the complexion
of a Goose: a fault done first in the forme of a
beast, (O Ioue, a beastly fault:) and then another fault,
in the semblance of a Fowle, thinke on't (Ioue) a fowle-fault.
When Gods haue hot backes, what shall poore
men do? For me, I am heere a Windsor Stagge, and the
fattest (I thinke) i'th Forrest. Send me a coole rut-time
(Ioue) or who can blame me to pisse my Tallow? Who
comes heere? my Doe?
  M.Ford. Sir Iohn? Art thou there (my Deere?)
My male-Deere?
  Fal. My Doe, with the blacke Scut? Let the skie
raine Potatoes: let it thunder, to the tune of Greenesleeues,
haile-kissing Comfits, and snow Eringoes: Let
there come a tempest of prouocation, I will shelter mee
heere

   M.Ford. Mistris Page is come with me (sweet hart.)
  Fal. Diuide me like a brib'd-Bucke, each a Haunch:
I will keepe my sides to my selfe, my shoulders for the
fellow of this walke; and my hornes I bequeath your
husbands. Am I a Woodman, ha? Speake I like Herne
the Hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience,
he makes restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome

   M.Page. Alas, what noise?
  M.Ford. Heauen forgiue our sinnes

   Fal. What should this be?
  M.Ford. M.Page. Away, away

   Fal. I thinke the diuell wil not haue me damn'd,
Least the oyle that's in me should set hell on fire;
He would neuer else crosse me thus.

Enter Fairies.

  Qui. Fairies blacke, gray, greene, and white,
You Moone-shine reuellers, and shades of night.
You Orphan heires of fixed destiny,
Attend your office, and your quality.
Crier Hob-goblyn, make the Fairy Oyes

   Pist. Elues, list your names: Silence you aiery toyes.
Cricket, to Windsor-chimnies shalt thou leape;
Where fires thou find'st vnrak'd, and hearths vnswept,
There pinch the Maids as blew as Bill-berry,
Our radiant Queene, hates Sluts, and Sluttery

   Fal. They are Fairies, he that speaks to them shall die,
Ile winke, and couch: No man their workes must eie

   Eu. Wher's Bede? Go you, and where you find a maid
That ere she sleepe has thrice her prayers said,
Raise vp the Organs of her fantasie,
Sleepe she as sound as carelesse infancie,
But those as sleepe, and thinke not on their sins,
Pinch them armes, legs, backes, shoulders, sides, & shins

   Qu. About, about:
Search Windsor Castle (Elues) within, and out.
Strew good lucke (Ouphes) on euery sacred roome,
That it may stand till the perpetuall doome,
In state as wholsome, as in state 'tis fit,
Worthy the Owner, and the Owner it.
The seuerall Chaires of Order, looke you scowre
With iuyce of Balme; and euery precious flowre,
Each faire Instalment, Coate, and seu'rall Crest,
With loyall Blazon, euermore be blest.
And Nightly-meadow-Fairies, looke you sing
Like to the Garters-Compasse, in a ring
Th' expressure that it beares: Greene let it be,
More fertile-fresh then all the Field to see:
And, Hony Soit Qui Maly-Pence, write
In Emrold-tuffes, Flowres purple, blew, and white,
Like Saphire-pearle, and rich embroiderie,
Buckled below faire Knight-hoods bending knee;
Fairies vse Flowres for their characterie.
Away, disperse: But till 'tis one a clocke,
Our Dance of Custome, round about the Oke
Of Herne the Hunter, let vs not forget

   Euan. Pray you lock hand in hand: your selues in order set:
And twenty glow-wormes shall our Lanthornes bee
To guide our Measure round about the Tree.
But stay, I smell a man of middle earth

   Fal. Heauens defend me from that Welsh Fairy,
Least he transforme me to a peece of Cheese

   Pist. Vilde worme, thou wast ore-look'd euen in thy
birth

   Qu. With Triall-fire touch me his finger end:
If he be chaste, the flame will backe descend
And turne him to no paine: but if he start,
It is the flesh of a corrupted hart

   Pist. A triall, come

   Eua. Come: will this wood take fire?
  Fal. Oh, oh, oh

   Qui. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire.
About him (Fairies) sing a scornfull rime,
And as you trip, still pinch him to your time.

The Song.

Fie on sinnefull phantasie: Fie on Lust, and Luxurie:
Lust is but a bloudy fire, kindled with vnchaste desire,
Fed in heart whose flames aspire,
As thoughts do blow them higher and higher.
Pinch him (Fairies) mutually: Pinch him for his villanie.
Pinch him, and burne him, and turne him about,
Till Candles, & Star-light, & Moone-shine be out

   Page. Nay do not flye, I thinke we haue watcht you
now: Will none but Herne the Hunter serue your
turne?
  M.Page. I pray you come, hold vp the iest no higher.
Now (good Sir Iohn) how like you Windsor wiues?
See you these husband? Do not these faire yoakes
Become the Forrest better then the Towne?
  Ford. Now Sir, whose a Cuckold now?
Mr Broome, Falstaffes a Knaue, a Cuckoldly knaue,
Heere are his hornes Master Broome:
And Master Broome, he hath enioyed nothing of Fords,
but his Buck-basket, his cudgell, and twenty pounds of
money, which must be paid to Mr Broome, his horses are
arrested for it, Mr Broome

   M.Ford. Sir Iohn, we haue had ill lucke: wee could
neuer meete: I will neuer take you for my Loue againe,
but I will alwayes count you my Deere

   Fal. I do begin to perceiue that I am made an Asse

   Ford. I, and an Oxe too: both the proofes are extant

   Fal. And these are not Fairies:
I was three or foure times in the thought they were not
Fairies, and yet the guiltinesse of my minde, the sodaine
surprize of my powers, droue the grossenesse of the foppery
into a receiu'd beleefe, in despight of the teeth of
all rime and reason, that they were Fairies. See now
how wit may be made a Iacke-a-Lent, when 'tis vpon ill
imployment

   Euans. Sir Iohn Falstaffe, serue Got, and leaue your
desires, and Fairies will not pinse you

   Ford. Well said Fairy Hugh

   Euans. And leaue you your iealouzies too, I pray
you

   Ford. I will neuer mistrust my wife againe, till thou
art able to woo her in good English

   Fal. Haue I laid my braine in the Sun, and dri'de it,
that it wants matter to preuent so grosse ore-reaching as
this? Am I ridden with a Welch Goate too? Shal I haue
a Coxcombe of Frize? Tis time I were choak'd with a
peece of toasted Cheese

   Eu. Seese is not good to giue putter; your belly is al
putter

   Fal. Seese, and Putter? Haue I liu'd to stand at the
taunt of one that makes Fritters of English? This is enough
to be the decay of lust and late-walking through
the Realme

   Mist.Page. Why Sir Iohn, do you thinke though wee
would haue thrust vertue out of our hearts by the head
and shoulders, and haue giuen our selues without scruple
to hell, that euer the deuill could haue made you our
delight?
  Ford. What, a hodge-pudding? A bag of flax?
  Mist.Page. A puft man?
  Page. Old, cold, wither'd, and of intollerable entrailes?
  Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Sathan?
  Page. And as poore as Iob?
  Ford. And as wicked as his wife?
  Euan. And giuen to Fornications, and to Tauernes,
and Sacke, and Wine, and Metheglins, and to drinkings
and swearings, and starings? Pribles and prables?
  Fal. Well, I am your Theame: you haue the start of
me, I am deiected: I am not able to answer the Welch
Flannell, Ignorance it selfe is a plummet ore me, vse me
as you will

   Ford. Marry Sir, wee'l bring you to Windsor to one
Mr Broome, that you haue cozon'd of money, to whom
you should haue bin a Pander: ouer and aboue that you
haue suffer'd, I thinke, to repay that money will be a biting
affliction

   Page. Yet be cheerefull Knight: thou shalt eat a posset
to night at my house, wher I will desire thee to laugh
at my wife, that now laughes at thee: Tell her Mr Slender
hath married her daughter

   Mist.Page. Doctors doubt that;
If Anne Page be my daughter, she is (by this) Doctour
Caius wife

   Slen. Whoa hoe, hoe, Father Page

   Page. Sonne? How now? How now Sonne,
Haue you dispatch'd?
  Slen. Dispatch'd? Ile make the best in Glostershire
know on't: would I were hang'd la, else

   Page. Of what sonne?
  Slen. I came yonder at Eaton to marry Mistris Anne
Page, and she's a great lubberly boy. If it had not bene
i'th Church, I would haue swing'd him, or hee should
haue swing'd me. If I did not thinke it had beene Anne
Page, would I might neuer stirre, and 'tis a Post-masters
Boy

   Page. Vpon my life then, you tooke the wrong

   Slen. What neede you tell me that? I think so, when
I tooke a Boy for a Girle: If I had bene married to him,
(for all he was in womans apparrell) I would not haue
had him

   Page. Why this is your owne folly,
Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter,
By her garments?
  Slen. I went to her in greene, and cried Mum, and
she cride budget, as Anne and I had appointed, and yet
it was not Anne, but a Post-masters boy

   Mist.Page. Good George be not angry, I knew of
your purpose: turn'd my daughter into white, and indeede
she is now with the Doctor at the Deanrie, and
there married

   Cai. Ver is Mistris Page: by gar I am cozoned, I ha
married oon Garsoon, a boy; oon pesant, by gar. A boy,
it is not An Page, by gar, I am cozened

   M.Page. Why? did you take her in white?
  Cai. I bee gar, and 'tis a boy: be gar, Ile raise all
Windsor

   Ford. This is strange: Who hath got the right Anne?
  Page. My heart misgiues me, here comes Mr Fenton.
How now Mr Fenton?
  Anne. Pardon good father, good my mother pardon
  Page. Now Mistris:
How chance you went not with Mr Slender?
  M.Page. Why went you not with Mr Doctor, maid?
  Fen. You do amaze her: heare the truth of it,
You would haue married her most shamefully,
Where there was no proportion held in loue:
The truth is, she and I (long since contracted)
Are now so sure that nothing can dissolue vs:
Th' offence is holy, that she hath committed,
And this deceit looses the name of craft,
Of disobedience, or vnduteous title,
Since therein she doth euitate and shun
A thousand irreligious cursed houres
Which forced marriage would haue brought vpon her

   Ford. Stand not amaz'd, here is no remedie:
In Loue, the heauens themselues do guide the state,
Money buyes Lands, and wiues are sold by fate

   Fal. I am glad, though you haue tane a special stand
to strike at me, that your Arrow hath glanc'd

   Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heauen giue thee
ioy, what cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd

   Fal. When night-dogges run, all sorts of Deere are
chac'd

   Mist.Page. Well, I will muse no further: Mr Fenton,
Heauen giue you many, many merry dayes:
Good husband, let vs euery one go home,
And laugh this sport ore by a Countrie fire,
Sir Iohn and all

   Ford. Let it be so (Sir Iohn:)
To Master Broome, you yet shall hold your word,
For he, to night, shall lye with Mistris Ford:

Exeunt.

FINIS. THE Merry Wiues of Windsor.


Measvre, For Measure

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords.

  Duke. Escalus

   Esc. My Lord

   Duk. Of Gouernment, the properties to vnfold,
Would seeme in me t' affect speech & discourse,
Since I am put to know, that your owne Science
Exceedes (in that) the lists of all aduice
My strength can giue you: Then no more remaines
But that, to your sufficiency, as your worth is able,
And let them worke: The nature of our People,
Our Cities Institutions, and the Termes
For Common Iustice, y'are as pregnant in
As Art, and practise, hath inriched any
That we remember: There is our Commission,
From which, we would not haue you warpe; call hither,
I say, bid come before vs Angelo:
What figure of vs thinke you, he will beare.
For you must know, we haue with speciall soule
Elected him our absence to supply;
Lent him our terror, drest him with our loue,
And giuen his Deputation all the Organs
Of our owne powre: What thinke you of it?
  Esc. If any in Vienna be of worth
To vndergoe such ample grace, and honour,
It is Lord Angelo.

Enter Angelo.

  Duk. Looke where he comes

   Ang. Alwayes obedient to your Graces will,
I come to know your pleasure

   Duke. Angelo:
There is a kinde of Character in thy life,
That to th' obseruer, doth thy history
Fully vnfold: Thy selfe, and thy belongings
Are not thine owne so proper, as to waste
Thy selfe vpon thy vertues; they on thee:
Heauen doth with vs, as we, with Torches doe,
Not light them for themselues: For if our vertues
Did not goe forth of vs, 'twere all alike
As if we had them not: Spirits are not finely touch'd,
But to fine issues: nor nature neuer lends
The smallest scruple of her excellence,
But like a thrifty goddesse, she determines
Her selfe the glory of a creditour,
Both thanks, and vse; but I do bend my speech
To one that can my part in him aduertise;
Hold therefore Angelo:
In our remoue, be thou at full, our selfe:
Mortallitie and Mercie in Vienna
Liue in thy tongue, and heart: Old Escalus
Though first in question, is thy secondary.
Take thy Commission

   Ang. Now good my Lord
Let there be some more test, made of my mettle,
Before so noble, and so great a figure
Be stamp't vpon it

   Duk. No more euasion:
We haue with a leauen'd, and prepared choice
Proceeded to you; therefore take your honors:
Our haste from hence is of so quicke condition,
That it prefers it selfe, and leaues vnquestion'd
Matters of needfull value: We shall write to you
As time, and our concernings shall importune,
How it goes with vs, and doe looke to know
What doth befall you here. So fare you well:
To th' hopefull execution doe I leaue you,
Of your Commissions

   Ang. Yet giue leaue (my Lord,)
That we may bring you something on the way

   Duk. My haste may not admit it,
Nor neede you (on mine honor) haue to doe
With any scruple: your scope is as mine owne,
So to inforce, or qualifie the Lawes
As to your soule seemes good: Giue me your hand,
Ile priuily away: I loue the people,
But doe not like to stage me to their eyes:
Though it doe well, I doe not rellish well
Their lowd applause, and Aues vehement:
Nor doe I thinke the man of safe discretion
That do's affect it. Once more fare you well

   Ang. The heauens giue safety to your purposes

   Esc. Lead forth, and bring you backe in happinesse.

Enter.

  Duk. I thanke you, fare you well

   Esc. I shall desire you, Sir, to giue me leaue
To haue free speech with you; and it concernes me
To looke into the bottome of my place:
A powre I haue, but of what strength and nature,
I am not yet instructed

   Ang. 'Tis so with me: Let vs withdraw together,
And we may soone our satisfaction haue
Touching that point

   Esc. Ile wait vpon your honor.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Lucio, and two other Gentlemen.

  Luc. If the Duke, with the other Dukes, come not to
composition with the King of Hungary, why then all the
Dukes fall vpon the King

   1.Gent. Heauen grant vs its peace, but not the King
of Hungaries

   2.Gent. Amen

   Luc. Thou conclud'st like the Sanctimonious Pirat,
that went to sea with the ten Commandements, but
scrap'd one out of the Table

   2.Gent. Thou shalt not Steale?
  Luc. I, that he raz'd

   1.Gent. Why? 'twas a commandement, to command
the Captaine and all the rest from their functions: they
put forth to steale: There's not a Souldier of vs all, that
in the thanks-giuing before meate, do rallish the petition
well, that praies for peace

   2.Gent. I neuer heard any Souldier dislike it

   Luc. I beleeue thee: for I thinke thou neuer was't
where Grace was said

   2.Gent. No? a dozen times at least

   1.Gent. What? In meeter?
  Luc. In any proportion: or in any language

   1.Gent. I thinke, or in any Religion

   Luc. I, why not? Grace, is Grace, despight of all controuersie:
as for example; Thou thy selfe art a wicked
villaine, despight of all Grace

   1.Gent. Well: there went but a paire of sheeres betweene
vs

   Luc. I grant: as there may betweene the Lists, and
the Veluet. Thou art the List

   1.Gent. And thou the Veluet; thou art good veluet;
thou'rt a three pild-peece I warrant thee: I had as liefe
be a Lyst of an English Kersey, as be pil'd, as thou art
pil'd, for a French Veluet. Do I speake feelingly now?
  Luc. I thinke thou do'st: and indeed with most painfull
feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine owne confession,
learne to begin thy health; but, whilst I liue forget
to drinke after thee

   1.Gen. I think I haue done my selfe wrong, haue I not?
  2.Gent. Yes, that thou hast; whether thou art tainted,
or free.

Enter Bawde.

  Luc. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes.
I haue purchas'd as many diseases vnder her Roofe,
As come to
  2.Gent. To what, I pray?
  Luc. Iudge

   2.Gent. To three thousand Dollours a yeare

   1.Gent. I, and more

   Luc. A French crowne more

   1.Gent. Thou art alwayes figuring diseases in me; but
thou art full of error, I am sound

   Luc. Nay, not (as one would say) healthy: but so
sound, as things that are hollow; thy bones are hollow;
Impiety has made a feast of thee

   1.Gent. How now, which of your hips has the most
profound Ciatica?
  Bawd. Well, well: there's one yonder arrested, and
carried to prison, was worth fiue thousand of you all

   2.Gent. Who's that I pray'thee?
  Bawd. Marry Sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio

   1.Gent. Claudio to prison? 'tis not so

   Bawd. Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him arrested:
saw him carried away: and which is more, within these
three daies his head to be chop'd off

   Luc. But, after all this fooling, I would not haue it so:
Art thou sure of this?
  Bawd. I am too sure of it: and it is for getting Madam
Iulietta with childe

   Luc. Beleeue me this may be: he promis'd to meete
me two howres since, and he was euer precise in promise
keeping

   2.Gent. Besides you know, it drawes somthing neere
to the speech we had to such a purpose

   1.Gent. But most of all agreeing with the proclamatio[n]

   Luc. Away: let's goe learne the truth of it.

Enter.

  Bawd. Thus, what with the war; what with the sweat,
what with the gallowes, and what with pouerty, I am
Custom-shrunke. How now? what's the newes with
you.

Enter Clowne.

  Clo. Yonder man is carried to prison

   Baw. Well: what has he done?
  Clo. A Woman

   Baw. But what's his offence?
  Clo. Groping for Trowts, in a peculiar Riuer

   Baw. What? is there a maid with child by him?
  Clo. No: but there's a woman with maid by him:
you haue not heard of the proclamation, haue you?
  Baw. What proclamation, man?
  Clow. All howses in the Suburbs of Vienna must bee
pluck'd downe

   Bawd. And what shall become of those in the Citie?
  Clow. They shall stand for seed: they had gon down
to, but that a wise Burger put in for them

   Bawd. But shall all our houses of resort in the Suburbs
be puld downe?
  Clow. To the ground, Mistris

   Bawd. Why heere's a change indeed in the Commonwealth:
what shall become of me?
  Clow. Come: feare not you; good Counsellors lacke
no Clients: though you change your place, you neede
not change your Trade: Ile bee your Tapster still; courage,
there will bee pitty taken on you; you that haue
worne your eyes almost out in the seruice, you will bee
considered

   Bawd. What's to doe heere, Thomas Tapster? let's
withdraw?
  Clo. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the Prouost
to prison: and there's Madam Iuliet.

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

Enter Prouost, Claudio, Iuliet, Officers, Lucio, & 2.Gent.

  Cla. Fellow, why do'st thou show me thus to th' world?
Beare me to prison, where I am committed

   Pro. I do it not in euill disposition,
But from Lord Angelo by speciall charge

   Clau. Thus can the demy-god (Authority)
Make vs pay downe, for our offence, by waight
The words of heauen; on whom it will, it will,
On whom it will not (soe) yet still 'tis iust

   Luc. Why how now Claudio? whence comes this restraint

   Cla. From too much liberty, (my Lucio) Liberty
As surfet is the father of much fast,
So euery Scope by the immoderate vse
Turnes to restraint: Our Natures doe pursue
Like Rats that rauyn downe their proper Bane,
A thirsty euill, and when we drinke, we die

   Luc. If I could speake so wisely vnder an arrest, I
would send for certaine of my Creditors: and yet, to say
the truth, I had as lief haue the foppery of freedome, as
the mortality of imprisonment: what's thy offence,
Claudio?
  Cla. What (but to speake of) would offend againe

   Luc. What, is't murder?
  Cla. No

   Luc. Lecherie?
  Cla. Call it so

   Pro. Away, Sir, you must goe

   Cla. One word, good friend:
Lucio, a word with you

   Luc. A hundred:
If they'll doe you any good: Is Lechery so look'd after?
  Cla. Thus stands it with me: vpon a true contract
I got possession of Iulietas bed,
You know the Lady, she is fast my wife,
Saue that we doe the denunciation lacke
Of outward Order. This we came not to,
Onely for propogation of a Dowre
Remaining in the Coffer of her friends,
From whom we thought it meet to hide our Loue
Till Time had made them for vs. But it chances
The stealth of our most mutuall entertainment
With Character too grosse, is writ on Iuliet

   Luc. With childe, perhaps?
  Cla. Vnhappely, euen so.
And the new Deputie, now for the Duke,
Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newnes,
Or whether that the body publique, be
A horse whereon the Gouernor doth ride,
Who newly in the Seate, that it may know
He can command; lets it strait feele the spur:
Whether the Tirranny be in his place,
Or in his Eminence that fills it vp
I stagger in: But this new Gouernor
Awakes me all the inrolled penalties
Which haue (like vn-scowr'd Armor) hung by th' wall
So long, that ninteene Zodiacks haue gone round,
And none of them beene worne; and for a name
Now puts the drowsie and neglected Act
Freshly on me: 'tis surely for a name

   Luc. I warrant it is: And thy head stands so tickle on
thy shoulders, that a milke-maid, if she be in loue, may
sigh it off: Send after the Duke, and appeale to him

   Cla. I haue done so, but hee's not to be found.
I pre'thee (Lucio) doe me this kinde seruice:
This day, my sister should the Cloyster enter,
And there receiue her approbation.
Acquaint her with the danger of my state,
Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends
To the strict deputie: bid her selfe assay him,
I haue great hope in that: for in her youth
There is a prone and speechlesse dialect,
Such as moue men: beside, she hath prosperous Art
When she will play with reason, and discourse,
And well she can perswade

   Luc. I pray shee may; aswell for the encouragement
of the like, which else would stand vnder greeuous imposition:
as for the enioying of thy life, who I would be
sorry should bee thus foolishly lost, at a game of ticketacke:
Ile to her

   Cla. I thanke you good friend Lucio

   Luc. Within two houres

   Cla. Come Officer, away.

Exeunt.


Scena Quarta.

Enter Duke and Frier Thomas.

  Duk. No: holy Father, throw away that thought,
Beleeue not that the dribling dart of Loue
Can pierce a compleat bosome: why, I desire thee
To giue me secret harbour, hath a purpose
More graue, and wrinkled, then the aimes, and ends
Of burning youth

   Fri. May your Grace speake of it?
  Duk. My holy Sir, none better knowes then you
How I haue euer lou'd the life remoued
And held in idle price, to haunt assemblies
Where youth, and cost, witlesse brauery keepes.
I haue deliuerd to Lord Angelo
(A man of stricture and firme abstinence)
My absolute power, and place here in Vienna,
And he supposes me trauaild to Poland,
(For so I haue strewd it in the common eare)
And so it is receiu'd: Now (pious Sir)
You will demand of me, why I do this

   Fri. Gladly, my Lord

   Duk. We haue strict Statutes, and most biting Laws,
(The needfull bits and curbes to headstrong weedes,)
Which for this foureteene yeares, we haue let slip,
Euen like an ore-growne Lyon in a Caue
That goes not out to prey: Now, as fond Fathers,
Hauing bound vp the threatning twigs of birch,
Onely to sticke it in their childrens sight,
For terror, not to vse: in time the rod
More mock'd, then fear'd: so our Decrees,
Dead to infliction, to themselues are dead,
And libertie, plucks Iustice by the nose;
The Baby beates the Nurse, and quite athwart
Goes all decorum

   Fri. It rested in your Grace
To vnloose this tyde-vp Iustice, when you pleas'd:
And it in you more dreadfull would haue seem'd
Then in Lord Angelo

   Duk. I doe feare: too dreadfull:
Sith 'twas my fault, to giue the people scope,
'Twould be my tirrany to strike and gall them,
For what I bid them doe: For, we bid this be done
When euill deedes haue their permissiue passe,
And not the punishment: therefore indeede (my father)
I haue on Angelo impos'd the office,
Who may in th' ambush of my name, strike home,
And yet, my nature neuer in the sight
To do in slander: And to behold his sway
I will, as 'twere a brother of your Order,
Visit both Prince, and People: Therefore I pre'thee
Supply me with the habit, and instruct me
How I may formally in person beare
Like a true Frier: Moe reasons for this action
At our more leysure, shall I render you;
Onely, this one: Lord Angelo is precise,
Stands at a guard with Enuie: scarce confesses
That his blood flowes: or that his appetite
Is more to bread then stone: hence shall we see
If power change purpose: what our Seemers be.

Enter.


Scena Quinta.

Enter Isabell and Francisca a Nun.

  Isa. And haue you Nuns no farther priuiledges?
  Nun. Are not these large enough?
  Isa. Yes truely; I speake not as desiring more,
But rather wishing a more strict restraint
Vpon the Sisterhood, the Votarists of Saint Clare.

Lucio within.

  Luc. Hoa? peace be in this place

   Isa. Who's that which cals?
  Nun. It is a mans voice: gentle Isabella
Turne you the key, and know his businesse of him;
You may; I may not: you are yet vnsworne:
When you haue vowd, you must not speake with men,
But in the presence of the Prioresse;
Then if you speake, you must not show your face;
Or if you show your face, you must not speake.
He cals againe: I pray you answere him

   Isa. Peace and prosperitie: who is't that cals?
  Luc. Haile Virgin, (if you be) as those cheeke-Roses
Proclaime you are no lesse: can you so steed me,
As bring me to the sight of Isabella,
A Nouice of this place, and the faire Sister
To her vnhappie brother Claudio?
  Isa. Why her vnhappy Brother? Let me aske,
The rather for I now must make you know
I am that Isabella, and his Sister

   Luc. Gentle & faire: your Brother kindly greets you;
Not to be weary with you; he's in prison

   Isa. Woe me; for what?
  Luc. For that, which if my selfe might be his Iudge,
He should receiue his punishment, in thankes:
He hath got his friend with childe

   Isa. Sir, make me not your storie

   Luc. 'Tis true; I would not, though 'tis my familiar sin,
With Maids to seeme the Lapwing, and to iest
Tongue, far from heart: play with all Virgins so:
I hold you as a thing en-skied, and sainted,
By your renouncement, an imortall spirit
And to be talk'd with in sincerity,
As with a Saint

   Isa. You doe blaspheme the good, in mocking me

   Luc. Doe not beleeue it: fewnes, and truth; tis thus,
Your brother, and his louer haue embrac'd;
As those that feed, grow full: as blossoming Time
That from the seednes, the bare fallow brings
To teeming foyson: euen so her plenteous wombe
Expresseth his full Tilth, and husbandry

   Isa. Some one with childe by him? my cosen Iuliet?
  Luc. Is she your cosen?
  Isa. Adoptedly, as schoole-maids change their names
By vaine, though apt affection

   Luc. She it is

   Isa. Oh, let him marry her

   Luc. This is the point.
The Duke is very strangely gone from hence;
Bore many gentlemen (my selfe being one)
In hand, and hope of action: but we doe learne,
By those that know the very Nerues of State,
His giuing-out, were of an infinite distance
From his true meant designe: vpon his place,
(And with full line of his authority)
Gouernes Lord Angelo; A man, whose blood
Is very snow-broth: one, who neuer feeles
The wanton stings, and motions of the sence;
But doth rebate, and blunt his naturall edge
With profits of the minde: Studie, and fast
He (to giue feare to vse, and libertie,
Which haue, for long, run-by the hideous law,
As Myce, by Lyons) hath pickt out an act,
Vnder whose heauy sence, your brothers life
Fals into forfeit: he arrests him on it,
And followes close the rigor of the Statute
To make him an example: all hope is gone,
Vnlesse you haue the grace, by your faire praier
To soften Angelo: And that's my pith of businesse
'Twixt you, and your poore brother

   Isa. Doth he so,
Seeke his life?
  Luc. Has censur'd him already,
And as I heare, the Prouost hath a warrant
For's execution

   Isa. Alas: what poore
Abilitie's in me, to doe him good

   Luc. Assay the powre you haue

   Isa. My power? alas, I doubt

   Luc. Our doubts are traitors
And makes vs loose the good we oft might win,
By fearing to attempt: Goe to Lord Angelo
And let him learne to know, when Maidens sue
Men giue like gods: but when they weepe and kneele,
All their petitions, are as freely theirs
As they themselues would owe them

   Isa. Ile see what I can doe

   Luc. But speedily

   Isa. I will about it strait;
No longer staying, but to giue the Mother
Notice of my affaire: I humbly thanke you:
Commend me to my brother: soone at night
Ile send him certaine word of my successe

   Luc. I take my leaue of you

   Isa. Good sir, adieu.

Exeunt.


Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Angelo, Escalus, and seruants, Iustice.

  Ang. We must not make a scar-crow of the Law,
Setting it vp to feare the Birds of prey,
And let it keepe one shape, till custome make it
Their pearch, and not their terror

   Esc. I, but yet
Let vs be keene, and rather cut a little
Then fall, and bruise to death: alas, this gentleman
Whom I would saue, had a most noble father,
Let but your honour know
(Whom I beleeue to be most strait in vertue)
That in the working of your owne affections,
Had time coheard with Place, or place with wishing,
Or that the resolute acting of our blood
Could haue attaind th' effect of your owne purpose,
Whether you had not sometime in your life
Er'd in this point, which now you censure him,
And puld the Law vpon you

   Ang. 'Tis one thing to be tempted (Escalus)
Another thing to fall: I not deny
The Iury passing on the Prisoners life
May in the sworne-twelue haue a thiefe, or two
Guiltier then him they try; what's open made to Iustice,
That Iustice ceizes; What knowes the Lawes
That theeues do passe on theeues? 'Tis very pregnant,
The Iewell that we finde, we stoope, and take't,
Because we see it; but what we doe not see,
We tread vpon, and neuer thinke of it.
You may not so extenuate his offence,
For I haue had such faults; but rather tell me
When I, that censure him, do so offend,
Let mine owne Iudgement patterne out my death,
And nothing come in partiall. Sir, he must dye.

Enter Prouost.

  Esc. Be it as your wisedome will

   Ang. Where is the Prouost?
  Pro. Here if it like your honour

   Ang. See that Claudio
Be executed by nine to morrow morning,
Bring him his Confessor, let him be prepar'd,
For that's the vtmost of his pilgrimage

   Esc. Well: heauen forgiue him; and forgiue vs all:
Some rise by sinne, and some by vertue fall:
Some run from brakes of Ice, and answere none,
And some condemned for a fault alone.

Enter Elbow, Froth, Clowne, Officers.

  Elb. Come, bring them away: if these be good people
in a Common-weale, that doe nothing but vse their
abuses in common houses, I know no law: bring them
away

   Ang. How now Sir, what's your name? And what's
the matter?
  Elb. If it please your honour, I am the poore Dukes
Constable, and my name is Elbow; I doe leane vpon Iustice
Sir, and doe bring in here before your good honor,
two notorious Benefactors

   Ang. Benefactors? Well: What Benefactors are they?
Are they not Malefactors?
  Elb. If it please your honour, I know not well what
they are: But precise villaines they are, that I am sure of,
and void of all prophanation in the world, that good
Christians ought to haue

   Esc. This comes off well: here's a wise Officer

   Ang. Goe to: What quality are they of? Elbow is
your name?
Why do'st thou not speake Elbow?
  Clo. He cannot Sir: he's out at Elbow

   Ang. What are you Sir?
  Elb. He Sir: a Tapster Sir: parcell Baud: one that
serues a bad woman: whose house Sir was (as they say)
pluckt downe in the Suborbs: and now shee professes a
hot-house; which, I thinke is a very ill house too

   Esc. How know you that?
  Elb. My wife Sir? whom I detest before heauen, and
your honour

   Esc. How? thy wife?
  Elb. I Sir: whom I thanke heauen is an honest woman

   Esc. Do'st thou detest her therefore?
  Elb. I say sir, I will detest my selfe also, as well as she,
that this house, if it be not a Bauds house, it is pitty of her
life, for it is a naughty house

   Esc. How do'st thou know that, Constable?
  Elb. Marry sir, by my wife, who, if she had bin a woman
Cardinally giuen, might haue bin accus'd in fornication,
adultery, and all vncleanlinesse there

   Esc. By the womans meanes?
  Elb. I sir, by Mistris Ouerdons meanes: but as she spit
in his face, so she defide him

   Clo. Sir, if it please your honor, this is not so

   Elb. Proue it before these varlets here, thou honorable
man, proue it

   Esc. Doe you heare how he misplaces?
  Clo. Sir, she came in great with childe: and longing
(sauing your honors reuerence) for stewd prewyns; sir,
we had but two in the house, which at that very distant
time stood, as it were in a fruit dish (a dish of some three
pence; your honours haue seene such dishes) they are not
China-dishes, but very good dishes

   Esc. Go too: go too: no matter for the dish sir

   Clo. No indeede sir not of a pin; you are therein in
the right: but, to the point: As I say, this Mistris Elbow,
being (as I say) with childe, and being great bellied, and
longing (as I said) for prewyns: and hauing but two in
the dish (as I said) Master Froth here, this very man, hauing
eaten the rest (as I said) & (as I say) paying for them
very honestly: for, as you know Master Froth, I could not
giue you three pence againe

   Fro. No indeede

   Clo. Very well: you being then (if you be remembred)
cracking the stones of the foresaid prewyns

   Fro. I, so I did indeede

   Clo. Why, very well: I telling you then (if you be
remembred) that such a one, and such a one, were past
cure of the thing you wot of, vnlesse they kept very good
diet, as I told you

   Fro. All this is true

   Clo. Why very well then

   Esc. Come: you are a tedious foole: to the purpose:
what was done to Elbowes wife, that hee hath cause to
complaine of? Come me to what was done to her

   Clo. Sir, your honor cannot come to that yet

   Esc. No sir, nor I meane it not

   Clo. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honours
leaue: And I beseech you, looke into Master Froth here
sir, a man of foure-score pound a yeare; whose father
died at Hallowmas: Was't not at Hallowmas Master
Froth?
  Fro. Allhallond-Eue

   Clo. Why very well: I hope here be truthes: he Sir,
sitting (as I say) in a lower chaire, Sir, 'twas in the bunch
of Grapes, where indeede you haue a delight to sit, haue
you not?
  Fro. I haue so, because it is an open roome, and good
for winter

   Clo. Why very well then: I hope here be truthes

   Ang. This will last out a night in Russia
When nights are longest there: Ile take my leaue,
And leaue you to the hearing of the cause;
Hoping youle finde good cause to whip them all.

Enter.

  Esc. I thinke no lesse: good morrow to your Lordship.
Now Sir, come on: What was done to Elbowes
wife, once more?
  Clo. Once Sir? there was nothing done to her once

   Elb. I beseech you Sir, aske him what this man did to
my wife

   Clo. I beseech your honor, aske me

   Esc. Well sir, what did this Gentleman to her?
  Clo. I beseech you sir, looke in this Gentlemans face:
good Master Froth looke vpon his honor; 'tis for a good
purpose: doth your honor marke his face?
  Esc. I sir, very well

   Clo. Nay, I beseech you marke it well

   Esc. Well, I doe so

   Clo. Doth your honor see any harme in his face?
  Esc. Why no

   Clo. Ile be supposd vpon a booke, his face is the worst
thing about him: good then: if his face be the worst
thing about him, how could Master Froth doe the Constables
wife any harme? I would know that of your
honour

   Esc. He's in the right (Constable) what say you to it?
  Elb. First, and it like you, the house is a respected
house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his Mistris is
a respected woman

   Clo. By this hand Sir, his wife is a more respected person
then any of vs all

   Elb. Varlet, thou lyest; thou lyest wicked varlet: the
time is yet to come that shee was euer respected with
man, woman, or childe

   Clo. Sir, she was respected with him, before he married
with her

   Esc. Which is the wiser here; Iustice or Iniquitie? Is
this true?
  Elb. O thou caytiffe: O thou varlet: O thou wicked
Hanniball; I respected with her, before I was married
to her? If euer I was respected with her, or she with me,
let not your worship thinke mee the poore Dukes Officer:
proue this, thou wicked Hanniball, or ile haue
mine action of battry on thee

   Esc. If he tooke you a box o'th' eare, you might haue
your action of slander too

   Elb. Marry I thanke your good worship for it: what
is't your Worships pleasure I shall doe with this wicked
Caitiffe?
  Esc. Truly Officer, because he hath some offences in
him, that thou wouldst discouer, if thou couldst, let him
continue in his courses, till thou knowst what they are

   Elb. Marry I thanke your worship for it: Thou seest
thou wicked varlet now, what's come vpon thee. Thou
art to continue now thou Varlet, thou art to continue

   Esc. Where were you borne, friend?
  Froth. Here in Vienna, Sir

   Esc. Are you of fourescore pounds a yeere?
  Froth. Yes, and't please you sir

   Esc. So: what trade are you of, sir?
  Clo. A Tapster, a poore widdowes Tapster

   Esc. Your Mistris name?
  Clo. Mistris Ouerdon

   Esc. Hath she had any more then one husband?
  Clo. Nine, sir: Ouerdon by the last

   Esc. Nine? come hether to me, Master Froth; Master
Froth, I would not haue you acquainted with Tapsters;
they will draw you Master Froth, and you wil hang them:
get you gon, and let me heare no more of you

   Fro. I thanke your worship: for mine owne part, I
neuer come into any roome in a Tap-house, but I am
drawne in

   Esc. Well: no more of it Master Froth: farewell:
Come you hether to me, Mr. Tapster: what's your name
Mr. Tapster?
  Clo. Pompey

   Esc. What else?
  Clo. Bum, Sir

   Esc. Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about
you, so that in the beastliest sence, you are Pompey the
great; Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey; howsoeuer
you colour it in being a Tapster, are you not? come,
tell me true, it shall be the better for you

   Clo. Truly sir, I am a poore fellow that would liue

   Esc. How would you liue Pompey? by being a bawd?
what doe you thinke of the trade Pompey? is it a lawfull
trade?
  Clo. If the Law would allow it, sir

   Esc. But the Law will not allow it Pompey; nor it
shall not be allowed in Vienna

   Clo. Do's your Worship meane to geld and splay all
the youth of the City?
  Esc. No, Pompey

   Clo. Truely Sir, in my poore opinion they will too't
then: if your worship will take order for the drabs and
the knaues, you need not to feare the bawds

   Esc. There is pretty orders beginning I can tell you:
It is but heading, and hanging

   Clo. If you head, and hang all that offend that way
but for ten yeare together; you'll be glad to giue out a
Commission for more heads: if this law hold in Vienna
ten yeare, ile rent the fairest house in it after three pence
a Bay: if you liue to see this come to passe, say Pompey
told you so

   Esc. Thanke you good Pompey; and in requitall of
your prophesie, harke you: I aduise you let me not finde
you before me againe vpon any complaint whatsoeuer;
no, not for dwelling where you doe: if I doe Pompey, I
shall beat you to your Tent, and proue a shrewd Cæsar
to you: in plaine dealing Pompey, I shall haue you whipt;
so for this time, Pompey, fare you well

   Clo. I thanke your Worship for your good counsell;
but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better
determine. Whip me? no, no, let Carman whip his Iade,
The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade.

Enter.

  Esc. Come hether to me, Master Elbow: come hither
Master Constable: how long haue you bin in this place
of Constable?
  Elb. Seuen yeere, and a halfe sir

   Esc. I thought by the readinesse in the office, you had
continued in it some time: you say seauen yeares together

   Elb. And a halfe sir

   Esc. Alas, it hath beene great paines to you: they do
you wrong to put you so oft vpon't. Are there not men
in your Ward sufficient to serue it?
  Elb. 'Faith sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they
are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it
for some peece of money, and goe through with all

   Esc. Looke you bring mee in the names of some sixe
or seuen, the most sufficient of your parish

   Elb. To your Worships house sir?
  Esc. To my house: fare you well: what's a clocke,
thinke you?
  Iust. Eleuen, Sir

   Esc. I pray you home to dinner with me

   Iust. I humbly thanke you

   Esc. It grieues me for the death of Claudio
But there's no remedie:
  Iust. Lord Angelo is seuere

   Esc. It is but needfull.
Mercy is not it selfe, that oft lookes so,
Pardon is still the nurse of second woe:
But yet, poore Claudio; there is no remedie.
Come Sir.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Prouost, Seruant.

  Ser. Hee's hearing of a Cause; he will come straight,
I'le tell him of you

   Pro. 'Pray you doe; Ile know
His pleasure, may be he will relent; alas
He hath but as offended in a dreame,
All Sects, all Ages smack of this vice, and he
To die for't?

Enter Angelo.

  Ang. Now, what's the matter Prouost?
  Pro. Is it your will Claudio shall die to morrow?
  Ang. Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order?
Why do'st thou aske againe?
  Pro. Lest I might be too rash:
Vnder your good correction I haue seene
When after execution, Iudgement hath
Repented ore his doome

   Ang. Goe to; let that be mine,
Doe you your office, or giue vp your Place,
And you shall well be spar'd

   Pro. I craue your Honours pardon:
What shall be done Sir, with the groaning Iuliet?
Shee's very neere her howre

   Ang. Dispose of her
To some more fitter place; and that with speed

   Ser. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd,
Desires accesse to you

   Ang. Hath he a Sister?
  Pro. I my good Lord, a very vertuous maid,
And to be shortlie of a Sister-hood,
If not alreadie

   Ang. Well: let her be admitted,
See you the Fornicatresse be remou'd,
Let her haue needfull, but not lauish meanes,
There shall be order for't.

Enter Lucio and Isabella.

  Pro. 'Saue your Honour

   Ang. Stay a little while: y'are welcome: what's your will?
  Isab. I am a wofull Sutor to your Honour,
'Please but your Honor heare me

   Ang. Well: what's your suite

   Isab. There is a vice that most I doe abhorre,
And most desire should meet the blow of Iustice;
For which I would not plead, but that I must,
For which I must not plead, but that I am
At warre, twixt will, and will not

   Ang. Well: the matter?
  Isab. I haue a brother is condemn'd to die,
I doe beseech you let it be his fault,
And not my brother

   Pro. Heauen giue thee mouing graces

   Ang. Condemne the fault, and not the actor of it,
Why euery fault's condemnd ere it be done:
Mine were the verie Cipher of a Function
To fine the faults, whose fine stands in record,
And let goe by the Actor

   Isab. Oh iust, but seuere Law:
I had a brother then; heauen keepe your honour

   Luc. Giue't not ore so: to him againe, entreat him,
Kneele downe before him, hang vpon his gowne,
You are too cold: if you should need a pin,
You could not with more tame a tongue desire it:
To him, I say

   Isab. Must he needs die?
  Ang. Maiden, no remedie

   Isab. Yes: I doe thinke that you might pardon him,
And neither heauen, nor man grieue at the mercy

   Ang. I will not doe't

   Isab. But can you if you would?
  Ang. Looke what I will not, that I cannot doe

   Isab. But might you doe't & do the world no wrong
If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse,
As mine is to him?
  Ang. Hee's sentenc'd, tis too late

   Luc. You are too cold

   Isab. Too late? why no: I that doe speak a word
May call it againe: well, beleeue this
No ceremony that to great ones longs,
Not the Kings Crowne; nor the deputed sword,
The Marshalls Truncheon, nor the Iudges Robe
Become them with one halfe so good a grace
As mercie does: If he had bin as you, and you as he,
You would haue slipt like him, but he like you
Would not haue beene so sterne

   Ang. Pray you be gone

   Isab. I would to heauen I had your potencie,
And you were Isabell: should it then be thus?
No: I would tell what 'twere to be a Iudge,
And what a prisoner

   Luc. I, touch him: there's the veine

   Ang. Your Brother is a forfeit of the Law,
And you but waste your words

   Isab. Alas, alas:
Why all the soules that were, were forfeit once,
And he that might the vantage best haue tooke,
Found out the remedie: how would you be,
If he, which is the top of Iudgement, should
But iudge you, as you are? Oh, thinke on that,
And mercie then will breathe within your lips
Like man new made

   Ang. Be you content, (faire Maid)
It is the Law, not I, condemne your brother,
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my sonne,
It should be thus with him: he must die to morrow

   Isab. To morrow? oh, that's sodaine,
Spare him, spare him:
Hee's not prepar'd for death; euen for our kitchins
We kill the fowle of season: shall we serue heauen
With lesse respect then we doe minister
To our grosse-selues? good, good my Lord, bethink you;
Who is it that hath di'd for this offence?
There's many haue committed it

   Luc. I, well said

   Ang. The Law hath not bin dead, thogh it hath slept
Those many had not dar'd to doe that euill
If the first, that did th' Edict infringe
Had answer'd for his deed. Now 'tis awake,
Takes note of what is done, and like a Prophet
Lookes in a glasse that shewes what future euils
Either now, or by remissenesse, new conceiu'd,
And so in progresse to be hatch'd, and borne,
Are now to haue no successiue degrees,
But here they liue to end

   Isab. Yet shew some pittie

   Ang. I shew it most of all, when I show Iustice;
For then I pittie those I doe not know,
Which a dismis'd offence, would after gaule
And doe him right, that answering one foule wrong
Liues not to act another. Be satisfied;
Your Brother dies to morrow; be content

   Isab. So you must be y first that giues this sentence,
And hee, that suffers: Oh, it is excellent
To haue a Giants strength: but it is tyrannous
To vse it like a Giant

   Luc. That's well said

   Isab. Could great men thunder
As Ioue himselfe do's, Ioue would neuer be quiet,
For euery pelting petty Officer
Would vse his heauen for thunder;
Nothing but thunder: Mercifull heauen,
Thou rather with thy sharpe and sulpherous bolt
Splits the vn-wedgable and gnarled Oke,
Then the soft Mertill: But man, proud man,
Drest in a little briefe authoritie,
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,
(His glassie Essence) like an angry Ape
Plaies such phantastique tricks before high heauen,
As makes the Angels weepe: who with our spleenes,
Would all themselues laugh mortall

   Luc. Oh, to him, to him wench: he will relent,
Hee's comming: I perceiue't

   Pro. Pray heauen she win him

   Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with our selfe,
Great men may iest with Saints: tis wit in them,
But in the lesse fowle prophanation

   Luc. Thou'rt i'th right (Girle) more o'that

   Isab. That in the Captaine's but a chollericke word,
Which in the Souldier is flat blasphemie

   Luc. Art auis'd o'that? more on't

   Ang. Why doe you put these sayings vpon me?
  Isab. Because Authoritie, though it erre like others,
Hath yet a kinde of medicine in it selfe
That skins the vice o'th top; goe to your bosome,
Knock there, and aske your heart what it doth know
That's like my brothers fault: if it confesse
A naturall guiltinesse, such as is his,
Let it not sound a thought vpon your tongue
Against my brothers life

   Ang. Shee speakes, and 'tis such sence
That my Sence breeds with it; fare you well

   Isab. Gentle my Lord, turne backe

   Ang. I will bethinke me: come againe to morrow

   Isa. Hark, how Ile bribe you: good my Lord turn back

   Ang. How? bribe me?
  Is. I, with such gifts that heauen shall share with you

   Luc. You had mar'd all else

   Isab. Not with fond Sickles of the tested-gold,
Or Stones, whose rate are either rich, or poore
As fancie values them: but with true prayers,
That shall be vp at heauen, and enter there
Ere Sunne rise: prayers from preserued soules,
From fasting Maides, whose mindes are dedicate
To nothing temporall

   Ang. Well: come to me to morrow

   Luc. Goe to: 'tis well; away

   Isab. Heauen keepe your honour safe

   Ang. Amen.
For I am that way going to temptation,
Where prayers crosse

   Isab. At what hower to morrow,
Shall I attend your Lordship?
  Ang. At any time 'fore-noone

   Isab. 'Saue your Honour

   Ang. From thee: euen from thy vertue.
What's this? what's this? is this her fault, or mine?
The Tempter, or the Tempted, who sins most? ha?
Not she: nor doth she tempt: but it is I,
That, lying by the Violet in the Sunne,
Doe as the Carrion do's, not as the flowre,
Corrupt with vertuous season: Can it be,
That Modesty may more betray our Sence
Then womans lightnesse? hauing waste ground enough,
Shall we desire to raze the Sanctuary
And pitch our euils there? oh fie, fie, fie:
What dost thou? or what art thou Angelo?
Dost thou desire her fowly, for those things
That make her good? oh, let her brother liue:
Theeues for their robbery haue authority,
When Iudges steale themselues: what, doe I loue her,
That I desire to heare her speake againe?
And feast vpon her eyes? what is't I dreame on?
Oh cunning enemy, that to catch a Saint,
With Saints dost bait thy hooke: most dangerous
Is that temptation, that doth goad vs on
To sinne, in louing vertue: neuer could the Strumpet
With all her double vigor, Art, and Nature
Once stir my temper: but this vertuous Maid
Subdues me quite: Euer till now
When men were fond, I smild, and wondred how.

Enter.


Scena Tertia.

Enter Duke and Prouost.

  Duke. Haile to you, Prouost, so I thinke you are

   Pro. I am the Prouost: whats your will, good Frier?
  Duke. Bound by my charity, and my blest order,
I come to visite the afflicted spirits
Here in the prison: doe me the common right
To let me see them: and to make me know
The nature of their crimes, that I may minister
To them accordingly

   Pro. I would do more then that, if more were needfull

Enter Iuliet.

Looke here comes one: a Gentlewoman of mine,
Who falling in the flawes of her owne youth,
Hath blisterd her report: She is with childe,
And he that got it, sentenc'd: a yong man,
More fit to doe another such offence,
Then dye for this

   Duk. When must he dye?
  Pro. As I do thinke to morrow.
I haue prouided for you, stay a while
And you shall be conducted

   Duk. Repent you (faire one) of the sin you carry?
  Iul. I doe; and beare the shame most patiently

   Du. Ile teach you how you shal araign your conscie[n]ce
And try your penitence, if it be sound,
Or hollowly put on

   Iul. Ile gladly learne

   Duk. Loue you the man that wrong'd you?
  Iul. Yes, as I loue the woman that wrong'd him

   Duk. So then it seemes your most offence full act
Was mutually committed

   Iul. Mutually

   Duk. Then was your sin of heauier kinde then his

   Iul. I doe confesse it, and repent it (Father.)
  Duk. 'Tis meet so (daughter) but least you do repent
As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,
Which sorrow is alwaies toward our selues, not heauen,
Showing we would not spare heauen, as we loue it,
But as we stand in feare

   Iul. I doe repent me, as it is an euill,
And take the shame with ioy

   Duke. There rest:
Your partner (as I heare) must die to morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him:
Grace goe with you, Benedicite.

Enter.

  Iul. Must die to morrow? oh iniurious Loue
That respits me a life, whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror

   Pro. 'Tis pitty of him.

Exeunt.


Scena Quarta.

Enter Angelo.

  An. When I would pray, & think, I thinke, and pray
To seuerall subiects: heauen hath my empty words,
Whilst my Inuention, hearing not my Tongue,
Anchors on Isabell: heauen in my mouth,
As if I did but onely chew his name,
And in my heart the strong and swelling euill
Of my conception: the state whereon I studied
Is like a good thing, being often read
Growne feard, and tedious: yea, my Grauitie
Wherein (let no man heare me) I take pride,
Could I, with boote, change for an idle plume
Which the ayre beats for vaine: oh place, oh forme,
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit
Wrench awe from fooles, and tye the wiser soules
To thy false seeming? Blood, thou art blood,
Let's write good Angell on the Deuills horne
'Tis not the Deuills Crest: how now? who's there?

Enter Seruant.

  Ser. One Isabell, a Sister, desires accesse to you

   Ang. Teach her the way: oh, heauens
Why doe's my bloud thus muster to my heart,
Making both it vnable for it selfe,
And dispossessing all my other parts
Of necessary fitnesse?
So play the foolish throngs with one that swounds,
Come all to help him, and so stop the ayre
By which hee should reuiue: and euen so
The generall subiect to a wel-wisht King
Quit their owne part, and in obsequious fondnesse
Crowd to his presence, where their vn-taught loue
Must needs appear offence: how now faire Maid.

Enter Isabella.

  Isab. I am come to know your pleasure

   An. That you might know it, wold much better please me,
Then to demand what 'tis: your Brother cannot liue

   Isab. Euen so: heauen keepe your Honor

   Ang. Yet may he liue a while: and it may be
As long as you, or I: yet he must die

   Isab. Vnder your Sentence?
  Ang. Yea

   Isab. When, I beseech you: that in his Reprieue
(Longer, or shorter) he may be so fitted
That his soule sicken not

   Ang. Ha? fie, these filthy vices: It were as good
To pardon him, that hath from nature stolne
A man already made, as to remit
Their sawcie sweetnes, that do coyne heauens Image
In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easie,
Falsely to take away a life true made,
As to put mettle in restrained meanes
To make a false one

   Isab. 'Tis set downe so in heauen, but not in earth

   Ang. Say you so: then I shall poze you quickly.
Which had you rather, that the most iust Law
Now tooke your brothers life, and to redeeme him
Giue vp your body to such sweet vncleannesse
As she that he hath staind?
  Isab. Sir, beleeue this.
I had rather giue my body, then my soule

   Ang. I talke not of your soule: our compel'd sins
Stand more for number, then for accompt

   Isab. How say you?
  Ang. Nay Ile not warrant that: for I can speake
Against the thing I say: Answere to this,
I (now the voyce of the recorded Law)
Pronounce a sentence on your Brothers life,
Might there not be a charitie in sinne,
To saue this Brothers life?
  Isab. Please you to doo't,
Ile take it as a perill to my soule,
It is no sinne at all, but charitie

   Ang. Pleas'd you to doo't, at perill of your soule
Were equall poize of sinne, and charitie

   Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sinne
Heauen let me beare it: you granting of my suit,
If that be sin, Ile make it my Morne-praier,
To haue it added to the faults of mine,
And nothing of your answere

   Ang. Nay, but heare me,
Your sence pursues not mine: either you are ignorant,
Or seeme so crafty; and that's not good

   Isab. Let be ignorant, and in nothing good,
But graciously to know I am no better

   Ang. Thus wisdome wishes to appeare most bright,
When it doth taxe it selfe: As these blacke Masques
Proclaime an en-shield beauty ten times louder
Then beauty could displaied: But marke me,
To be receiued plaine, Ile speake more grosse:
Your Brother is to dye

   Isab. So

   Ang. And his offence is so, as it appeares,
Accountant to the Law, vpon that paine

   Isab. True

   Ang. Admit no other way to saue his life
(As I subscribe not that, nor any other,
But in the losse of question) that you, his Sister,
Finding your selfe desir'd of such a person,
Whose creadit with the Iudge, or owne great place,
Could fetch your Brother from the Manacles
Of the all-building-Law: and that there were
No earthly meane to saue him, but that either
You must lay downe the treasures of your body,
To this supposed, or else to let him suffer:
What would you doe?
  Isab. As much for my poore Brother, as my selfe;
That is: were I vnder the tearmes of death,
Th' impression of keene whips, I'ld weare as Rubies,
And strip my selfe to death, as to a bed,
That longing haue bin sicke for, ere I'ld yeeld
My body vp to shame

   Ang. Then must your brother die

   Isa. And 'twer the cheaper way:
Better it were a brother dide at once,
Then that a sister, by redeeming him
Should die for euer

   Ang. Were not you then as cruell as the Sentence,
That you haue slander'd so?
  Isa. Ignomie in ransome, and free pardon
Are of two houses: lawfull mercie,
Is nothing kin to fowle redemption

   Ang. You seem'd of late to make the Law a tirant,
And rather prou'd the sliding of your brother
A merriment, then a vice

   Isa. Oh pardon me my Lord, it oft fals out
To haue, what we would haue,
We speake not what we meane;
I something do excuse the thing I hate,
For his aduantage that I dearely loue

   Ang. We are all fraile

   Isa. Else let my brother die,
If not a fedarie but onely he
Owe, and succeed thy weaknesse

   Ang. Nay, women are fraile too

   Isa. I, as the glasses where they view themselues,
Which are as easie broke as they make formes:
Women? Helpe heauen; men their creation marre
In profiting by them: Nay, call vs ten times fraile,
For we are soft, as our complexions are,
And credulous to false prints

   Ang. I thinke it well:
And from this testimonie of your owne sex
(Since I suppose we are made to be no stronger
Then faults may shake our frames) let me be bold;
I do arrest your words. Be that you are,
That is a woman; if you be more, you'r none.
If you be one (as you are well exprest
By all externall warrants) shew it now,
By putting on the destin'd Liuerie

   Isa. I haue no tongue but one; gentle my Lord,
Let me entreate you speake the former language

   Ang. Plainlie conceiue I loue you

   Isa. My brother did loue Iuliet,
And you tell me that he shall die for't

   Ang. He shall not Isabell if you giue me loue

   Isa. I know your vertue hath a licence in't,
Which seemes a little fouler then it is,
To plucke on others

   Ang. Beleeue me on mine Honor,
My words expresse my purpose

   Isa. Ha? Little honor, to be much beleeu'd,
And most pernitious purpose: Seeming, seeming.
I will proclaime thee Angelo, looke for't.
Signe me a present pardon for my brother,
Or with an out-stretcht throate Ile tell the world aloud
What man thou art

   Ang. Who will beleeue thee Isabell?
My vnsoild name, th' austeerenesse of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i'th State,
Will so your accusation ouer-weigh,
That you shall stifle in your owne report,
And smell of calumnie. I haue begun,
And now I giue my sensuall race, the reine,
Fit thy consent to my sharpe appetite,
Lay by all nicetie, and prolixious blushes
That banish what they sue for: Redeeme thy brother,
By yeelding vp thy bodie to my will,
Or else he must not onelie die the death,
But thy vnkindnesse shall his death draw out
To lingring sufferance: Answer me to morrow,
Or by the affection that now guides me most,
Ile proue a Tirant to him. As for you,
Say what you can; my false, ore-weighs your true.

Exit

  Isa. To whom should I complaine? Did I tell this,
Who would beleeue me? O perilous mouthes
That beare in them, one and the selfesame tongue,
Either of condemnation, or approofe,
Bidding the Law make curtsie to their will,
Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite,
To follow as it drawes. Ile to my brother,
Though he hath falne by prompture of the blood,
Yet hath he in him such a minde of Honor,
That had he twentie heads to tender downe
On twentie bloodie blockes, hee'ld yeeld them vp,
Before his sister should her bodie stoope
To such abhord pollution.
Then Isabell liue chaste, and brother die;
``More then our Brother, is our Chastitie.
Ile tell him yet of Angelo's request,
And fit his minde to death, for his soules rest.

Enter.


Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Duke, Claudio, and Prouost.

  Du. So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?
  Cla. The miserable haue no other medicine
But onely hope: I'haue hope to liue, and am prepar'd to
die

   Duke. Be absolute for death: either death or life
Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life:
If I do loose thee, I do loose a thing
That none but fooles would keepe: a breath thou art,
Seruile to all the skyie-influences
That dost this habitation where thou keepst
Hourely afflict: Meerely, thou art deaths foole,
For him thou labourst by thy flight to shun,
And yet runst toward him still. Thou art not noble,
For all th' accommodations that thou bearst,
Are nurst by basenesse: Thou'rt by no meanes valiant,
For thou dost feare the soft and tender forke
Of a poore worme: thy best of rest is sleepe,
And that thou oft prouoakst, yet grosselie fearst
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thy selfe,
For thou exists on manie a thousand graines
That issue out of dust. Happie thou art not,
For what thou hast not, still thou striu'st to get,
And what thou hast forgetst. Thou art not certaine,
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
After the Moone: If thou art rich, thou'rt poore,
For like an Asse, whose backe with Ingots bowes;
Thou bearst thy heauie riches but a iournie,
And death vnloads thee; Friend hast thou none.
For thine owne bowels which do call thee, fire
The meere effusion of thy proper loines
Do curse the Gowt, Sapego, and the Rheume
For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth, nor age
But as it were an after-dinners sleepe
Dreaming on both, for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth begge the almes
Of palsied-Eld: and when thou art old, and rich
Thou hast neither heate, affection, limbe, nor beautie
To make thy riches pleasant: what's yet in this
That beares the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid moe thousand deaths; yet death we feare
That makes these oddes, all euen

   Cla. I humblie thanke you.
To sue to liue, I finde I seeke to die,
And seeking death, finde life: Let it come on.

Enter Isabella.

  Isab. What hoa? Peace heere; Grace, and good companie

   Pro. Who's there? Come in, the wish deserues a
welcome

   Duke. Deere sir, ere long Ile visit you againe

   Cla. Most holie Sir, I thanke you

   Isa. My businesse is a word or two with Claudio

   Pro. And verie welcom: looke Signior, here's your
sister

   Duke. Prouost, a word with you

   Pro. As manie as you please

   Duke. Bring them to heare me speak, where I may be
conceal'd

   Cla. Now sister, what's the comfort?
  Isa. Why,
As all comforts are: most good, most good indeede,
Lord Angelo hauing affaires to heauen
Intends you for his swift Ambassador,
Where you shall be an euerlasting Leiger;
Therefore your best appointment make with speed,
To Morrow you set on

   Clau. Is there no remedie?
  Isa. None, but such remedie, as to saue a head
To cleaue a heart in twaine:
  Clau. But is there anie?
  Isa. Yes brother, you may liue;
There is a diuellish mercie in the Iudge,
If you'l implore it, that will free your life,
But fetter you till death

   Cla. Perpetuall durance?
  Isa. I iust, perpetuall durance, a restraint
Through all the worlds vastiditie you had
To a determin'd scope

   Clau. But in what nature?
  Isa. In such a one, as you consenting too't,
Would barke your honor from that trunke you beare,
And leaue you naked

   Clau. Let me know the point

   Isa. Oh, I do feare thee Claudio, and I quake,
Least thou a feauorous life shouldst entertaine,
And six or seuen winters more respect
Then a perpetuall Honor. Dar'st thou die?
The sence of death is most in apprehension,
And the poore Beetle that we treade vpon
In corporall sufferance, finds a pang as great,
As when a Giant dies

   Cla. Why giue you me this shame?
Thinke you I can a resolution fetch
From flowrie tendernesse? If I must die,
I will encounter darknesse as a bride,
And hugge it in mine armes

   Isa. There spake my brother: there my fathers graue
Did vtter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die:
Thou art too noble, to conserue a life
In base appliances. This outward sainted Deputie,
Whose setled visage, and deliberate word
Nips youth i'th head, and follies doth emmew
As Falcon doth the Fowle, is yet a diuell:
His filth within being cast, he would appeare
A pond, as deepe as hell

   Cla. The prenzie, Angelo?
  Isa. Oh 'tis the cunning Liuerie of hell,
The damnest bodie to inuest, and couer
In prenzie gardes; dost thou thinke Claudio,
If I would yeeld him my virginitie
Thou might'st be freed?
  Cla. Oh heauens, it cannot be

   Isa. Yes, he would giu't thee; from this rank offence
So to offend him still. This night's the time
That I should do what I abhorre to name,
Or else thou diest to morrow

   Clau. Thou shalt not do't

   Isa. O, were it but my life,
I'de throw it downe for your deliuerance
As frankely as a pin

   Clau. Thankes deere Isabell

   Isa. Be readie Claudio, for your death to morrow

   Clau. Yes. Has he affections in him,
That thus can make him bite the Law by th' nose,
When he would force it? Sure it is no sinne,
Or of the deadly seuen it is the least

   Isa. Which is the least?
  Cla. If it were damnable, he being so wise,
Why would he for the momentarie tricke
Be perdurablie fin'de? Oh Isabell

   Isa. What saies my brother?
  Cla. Death is a fearefull thing

   Isa. And shamed life, a hatefull

   Cla. I, but to die, and go we know not where,
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot,
This sensible warme motion, to become
A kneaded clod; And the delighted spirit
To bath in fierie floods, or to recide
In thrilling Region of thicke-ribbed Ice,
To be imprison'd in the viewlesse windes
And blowne with restlesse violence round about
The pendant world: or to be worse then worst
Of those, that lawlesse and incertaine thought,
Imagine howling, 'tis too horrible.
The weariest, and most loathed worldly life
That Age, Ache, periury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a Paradise
To what we feare of death

   Isa. Alas, alas

   Cla. Sweet Sister, let me liue.
What sinne you do, to saue a brothers life,
Nature dispenses with the deede so farre,
That it becomes a vertue

   Isa. Oh you beast,
Oh faithlesse Coward, oh dishonest wretch,
Wilt thou be made a man, out of my vice?
Is't not a kinde of Incest, to take life
From thine owne sisters shame? What should I thinke,
Heauen shield my Mother plaid my Father faire:
For such a warped slip of wildernesse
Nere issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance,
Die, perish: Might but my bending downe
Repreeue thee from thy fate, it should proceede.
Ile pray a thousand praiers for thy death,
No word to saue thee

   Cla. Nay heare me Isabell

   Isa. Oh fie, fie, fie:
Thy sinn's not accidentall, but a Trade;
Mercy to thee would proue it selfe a Bawd,
'Tis best that thou diest quickly

   Cla. Oh heare me Isabella

   Duk. Vouchsafe a word, yong sister, but one word

   Isa. What is your Will

   Duk. Might you dispense with your leysure, I would
by and by haue some speech with you: the satisfaction I
would require, is likewise your owne benefit

   Isa. I haue no superfluous leysure, my stay must be
stolen out of other affaires: but I will attend you a while

   Duke. Son, I haue ouer-heard what hath past between
you & your sister. Angelo had neuer the purpose to corrupt
her; onely he hath made an assay of her vertue, to
practise his iudgement with the disposition of natures.
She (hauing the truth of honour in her) hath made him
that gracious deniall, which he is most glad to receiue: I
am Confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true, therfore
prepare your selfe to death: do not satisfie your resolution
with hopes that are fallible, to morrow you
must die, goe to your knees, and make ready

   Cla. Let me ask my sister pardon, I am so out of loue
with life, that I will sue to be rid of it

   Duke. Hold you there: farewell: Prouost, a word
with you

   Pro. What's your will (father?)
  Duk. That now you are come, you wil be gone: leaue
me a while with the Maid, my minde promises with my
habit, no losse shall touch her by my company

   Pro. In good time.

Enter.

  Duk. The hand that hath made you faire, hath made
you good: the goodnes that is cheape in beauty, makes
beauty briefe in goodnes; but grace being the soule of
your complexion, shall keepe the body of it euer faire:
the assault that Angelo hath made to you, Fortune hath
conuaid to my vnderstanding; and but that frailty hath
examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo: how
will you doe to content this Substitute, and to saue your
Brother?
  Isab. I am now going to resolue him: I had rather
my brother die by the Law, then my sonne should be vnlawfullie
borne. But (oh) how much is the good Duke
deceiu'd in Angelo: if euer he returne, and I can speake
to him, I will open my lips in vaine, or discouer his gouernment

   Duke. That shall not be much amisse: yet, as the matter
now stands, he will auoid your accusation: he made
triall of you onelie. Therefore fasten your eare on my
aduisings, to the loue I haue in doing good; a remedie
presents it selfe. I doe make my selfe beleeue that you
may most vprighteously do a poor wronged Lady a merited
benefit; redeem your brother from the angry Law;
doe no staine to your owne gracious person, and much
please the absent Duke, if peraduenture he shall euer returne
to haue hearing of this businesse

   Isab. Let me heare you speake farther; I haue spirit to
do any thing that appeares not fowle in the truth of my
spirit

   Duke. Vertue is bold, and goodnes neuer fearefull:
Haue you not heard speake of Mariana the sister of Fredericke
the great Souldier, who miscarried at Sea?
  Isa. I haue heard of the Lady, and good words went
with her name

   Duke. Shee should this Angelo haue married: was affianced
to her oath, and the nuptiall appointed: between
which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnitie,
her brother Fredericke was wrackt at Sea, hauing in that
perished vessell, the dowry of his sister: but marke how
heauily this befell to the poore Gentlewoman, there she
lost a noble and renowned brother, in his loue toward
her, euer most kinde and naturall: with him the portion
and sinew of her fortune, her marriage dowry: with
both, her combynate-husband, this well-seeming
Angelo

   Isab. Can this be so? did Angelo so leaue her?
  Duke. Left her in her teares, & dried not one of them
with his comfort: swallowed his vowes whole, pretending
in her, discoueries of dishonor: in few, bestow'd
her on her owne lamentation, which she yet weares for
his sake: and he, a marble to her teares, is washed with
them, but relents not

   Isab. What a merit were it in death to take this poore
maid from the world? what corruption in this life, that
it will let this man liue? But how out of this can shee auaile?
  Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heale: and the
cure of it not onely saues your brother, but keepes you
from dishonor in doing it

   Isab. Shew me how (good Father.)
  Duk. This fore-named Maid hath yet in her the continuance
of her first affection: his vniust vnkindenesse
(that in all reason should haue quenched her loue) hath
(like an impediment in the Current) made it more violent
and vnruly: Goe you to Angelo, answere his requiring
with a plausible obedience, agree with his demands
to the point: onely referre your selfe to this aduantage;
first, that your stay with him may not be long: that the
time may haue all shadow, and silence in it: and the place
answere to conuenience: this being granted in course,
and now followes all: wee shall aduise this wronged
maid to steed vp your appointment, goe in your place:
if the encounter acknowledge it selfe heereafter, it may
compell him to her recompence; and heere, by this is
your brother saued, your honor vntainted, the poore
Mariana aduantaged, and the corrupt Deputy scaled.
The Maid will I frame, and make fit for his attempt: if
you thinke well to carry this as you may, the doublenes
of the benefit defends the deceit from reproofe. What
thinke you of it?
  Isab. The image of it giues me content already, and I
trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection

   Duk. It lies much in your holding vp: haste you speedily
to Angelo, if for this night he intreat you to his bed,
giue him promise of satisfaction: I will presently to S[aint].
Lukes, there at the moated-Grange recides this deiected
Mariana; at that place call vpon me, and dispatch
with Angelo, that it may be quickly

   Isab. I thank you for this comfort: fare you well good
father.

Enter.

Enter Elbow, Clowne, Officers.

  Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you
will needes buy and sell men and women like beasts, we
shall haue all the world drinke browne & white bastard

   Duk. Oh heauens, what stuffe is heere

   Clow. Twas neuer merry world since of two vsuries
the merriest was put downe, and the worser allow'd by
order of Law; a fur'd gowne to keepe him warme; and
furd with Foxe and Lamb-skins too, to signifie, that craft
being richer then Innocency, stands for the facing

   Elb. Come your way sir: 'blesse you good Father
Frier

   Duk. And you good Brother Father; what offence
hath this man made you, Sir?
  Elb. Marry Sir, he hath offended the Law; and Sir,
we take him to be a Theefe too Sir: for wee haue found
vpon him Sir, a strange Pick-lock, which we haue sent
to the Deputie

   Duke. Fie, sirrah, a Bawd, a wicked bawd,
The euill that thou causest to be done,
That is thy meanes to liue. Do thou but thinke
What 'tis to cram a maw, or cloath a backe
From such a filthie vice: say to thy selfe,
From their abhominable and beastly touches
I drinke, I eate away my selfe, and liue:
Canst thou beleeue thy liuing is a life,
So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend

   Clo. Indeed, it do's stinke in some sort, Sir:
But yet Sir I would proue

   Duke. Nay, if the diuell haue giuen thee proofs for sin
Thou wilt proue his. Take him to prison Officer:
Correction, and Instruction must both worke
Ere this rude beast will profit

   Elb. He must before the Deputy Sir, he ha's giuen
him warning: the Deputy cannot abide a Whore-master:
if he be a Whore-monger, and comes before him,
he were as good go a mile on his errand

   Duke. That we were all, as some would seeme to bee
From our faults, as faults from seeming free.

Enter Lucio.

  Elb. His necke will come to your wast, a Cord sir

   Clo. I spy comfort, I cry baile: Here's a Gentleman,
and a friend of mine

   Luc. How now noble Pompey? What, at the wheels
of Cæsar? Art thou led in triumph? What is there none
of Pigmalions Images newly made woman to bee had
now, for putting the hand in the pocket, and extracting
clutch'd? What reply? Ha? What saist thou to this
Tune, Matter, and Method? Is't not drown'd i'th last
raine? Ha? What saist thou Trot? Is the world as it was
Man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words?
Or how? The tricke of it?
  Duke. Still thus, and thus: still worse?
  Luc. How doth my deere Morsell, thy Mistris? Procures
she still? Ha?
  Clo. Troth sir, shee hath eaten vp all her beefe, and
she is her selfe in the tub

   Luc. Why 'tis good: It is the right of it: it must be
so. Euer your fresh Whore, and your pouder'd Baud, an
vnshun'd consequence, it must be so. Art going to prison
Pompey?
  Clo. Yes faith sir

   Luc. Why 'tis not amisse Pompey: farewell: goe say
I sent thee thether: for debt Pompey? Or how?
  Elb. For being a baud, for being a baud

   Luc. Well, then imprison him: If imprisonment be
the due of a baud, why 'tis his right. Baud is he doubtlesse,
and of antiquity too: Baud borne. Farwell good
Pompey: Commend me to the prison Pompey, you will
turne good husband now Pompey, you will keepe the
house

   Clo. I hope Sir, your good Worship wil be my baile?
  Luc. No indeed wil I not Pompey, it is not the wear:
I will pray (Pompey) to encrease your bondage if you
take it not patiently: Why, your mettle is the more:
Adieu trustie Pompey.
Blesse you Friar

   Duke. And you

   Luc. Do's Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha?
  Elb. Come your waies sir, come

   Clo. You will not baile me then Sir?
  Luc. Then Pompey, nor now: what newes abroad Frier?
What newes?
  Elb. Come your waies sir, come

   Luc. Goe to kennell (Pompey) goe:
What newes Frier of the Duke?
  Duke. I know none: can you tell me of any?
  Luc. Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia: other
some, he is in Rome: but where is he thinke you?
  Duke. I know not where: but wheresoeuer, I wish
him well

   Luc. It was a mad fantasticall tricke of him to steale
from the State, and vsurpe the beggerie hee was neuer
borne to: Lord Angelo Dukes it well in his absence: he
puts transgression too't

   Duke. He do's well in't

   Luc. A little more lenitie to Lecherie would doe no
harme in him: Something too crabbed that way, Frier

   Duk. It is too general a vice, and seueritie must cure it

   Luc. Yes in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred;
it is well allied, but it is impossible to extirpe it quite,
Frier, till eating and drinking be put downe. They say
this Angelo was not made by Man and Woman, after
this downe-right way of Creation: is it true, thinke
you?
  Duke. How should he be made then?
  Luc. Some report, a Sea-maid spawn'd him. Some,
that he was begot betweene two Stock-fishes. But it
is certaine, that when he makes water, his Vrine is congeal'd
ice, that I know to bee true: and he is a motion
generatiue, that's infallible

   Duke. You are pleasant sir, and speake apace

   Luc. Why, what a ruthlesse thing is this in him, for
the rebellion of a Cod-peece, to take away the life of a
man? Would the Duke that is absent haue done this?
Ere he would haue hang'd a man for the getting a hundred
Bastards, he would haue paide for the Nursing a
thousand. He had some feeling of the sport, hee knew
the seruice, and that instructed him to mercie

   Duke. I neuer heard the absent Duke much detected
for Women, he was not enclin'd that way

   Luc. Oh Sir, you are deceiu'd

   Duke. 'Tis not possible

   Luc. Who, not the Duke? Yes, your beggar of fifty:
and his vse was, to put a ducket in her Clack-dish; the
Duke had Crochets in him. Hee would be drunke too,
that let me informe you

   Duke. You do him wrong, surely

   Luc. Sir, I was an inward of his: a shie fellow was
the Duke, and I beleeue I know the cause of his withdrawing

   Duke. What (I prethee) might be the cause?
  Luc. No, pardon: 'Tis a secret must bee lockt within
the teeth and the lippes: but this I can let you vnderstand,
the greater file of the subiect held the Duke to be
wise

   Duke. Wise? Why no question but he was

   Luc. A very superficiall, ignorant, vnweighing fellow
  Duke. Either this is Enuie in you, Folly, or mistaking:
The very streame of his life, and the businesse he
hath helmed, must vppon a warranted neede, giue him
a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in
his owne bringings forth, and hee shall appeare to the
enuious, a Scholler, a Statesman, and a Soldier: therefore
you speake vnskilfully: or, if your knowledge bee
more, it is much darkned in your malice

   Luc. Sir, I know him, and I loue him

   Duke. Loue talkes with better knowledge, & knowledge
with deare loue

   Luc. Come Sir, I know what I know

   Duke. I can hardly beleeue that, since you know not
what you speake. But if euer the Duke returne (as our
praiers are he may) let mee desire you to make your answer
before him: if it bee honest you haue spoke, you
haue courage to maintaine it; I am bound to call vppon
you, and I pray you your name?
  Luc. Sir my name is Lucio, wel known to the Duke

   Duke. He shall know you better Sir, if I may liue to
report you

   Luc. I feare you not

   Duke. O, you hope the Duke will returne no more:
or you imagine me to vnhurtfull an opposite: but indeed
I can doe you little harme: You'll for-sweare this againe?
  Luc. Ile be hang'd first: Thou art deceiu'd in mee
Friar. But no more of this: Canst thou tell if Claudio
die to morrow, or no?
  Duke. Why should he die Sir?
  Luc. Why? For filling a bottle with a Tunne-dish:
I would the Duke we talke of were return'd againe: this
vngenitur'd Agent will vn-people the Prouince with
Continencie. Sparrowes must not build in his house-eeues,
because they are lecherous: The Duke yet would
haue darke deeds darkelie answered, hee would neuer
bring them to light: would hee were return'd. Marrie
this Claudio is condemned for vntrussing. Farwell good
Friar, I prethee pray for me: The Duke (I say to thee
againe) would eate Mutton on Fridaies. He's now past
it, yet (and I say to thee) hee would mouth with a beggar,
though she smelt browne-bread and Garlicke: say
that I said so: Farewell.

Enter.

  Duke. No might, nor greatnesse in mortality
Can censure scape: Back-wounding calumnie
The whitest vertue strikes. What King so strong,
Can tie the gall vp in the slanderous tong?
But who comes heere?

Enter Escalus, Prouost, and Bawd.

  Esc. Go, away with her to prison

   Bawd. Good my Lord be good to mee, your Honor
is accounted a mercifull man: good my Lord

   Esc. Double, and trebble admonition, and still forfeite
in the same kinde? This would make mercy sweare
and play the Tirant

   Pro. A Bawd of eleuen yeares continuance, may it
please your Honor

   Bawd. My Lord, this is one Lucio's information against
me, Mistris Kate Keepe-downe was with childe by
him in the Dukes time, he promis'd her marriage: his
Childe is a yeere and a quarter olde come Philip and Iacob:
I haue kept it my selfe; and see how hee goes about
to abuse me

   Esc. That fellow is a fellow of much License: Let
him be call'd before vs, Away with her to prison: Goe
too, no more words. Prouost, my Brother Angelo will
not be alter'd, Claudio must die to morrow: Let him be
furnish'd with Diuines, and haue all charitable preparation.
If my brother wrought by my pitie, it should not
be so with him

   Pro. So please you, this Friar hath beene with him,
and aduis'd him for th' entertainment of death

   Esc. Good' euen, good Father

   Duke. Blisse, and goodnesse on you

   Esc. Of whence are you?
  Duke. Not of this Countrie, though my chance is now
To vse it for my time: I am a brother
Of gracious Order, late come from the Sea,
In speciall businesse from his Holinesse

   Esc. What newes abroad i'th World?
  Duke. None, but that there is so great a Feauor on
goodnesse, that the dissolution of it must cure it. Noueltie
is onely in request, and as it is as dangerous to be
aged in any kinde of course, as it is vertuous to be constant
in any vndertaking. There is scarse truth enough
aliue to make Societies secure, but Securitie enough to
make Fellowships accurst: Much vpon this riddle runs
the wisedome of the world: This newes is old enough,
yet it is euerie daies newes. I pray you Sir, of what disposition
was the Duke?
  Esc. One, that aboue all other strifes,
Contended especially to know himselfe

   Duke. What pleasure was he giuen to?
  Esc. Rather reioycing to see another merry, then
merrie at anie thing which profest to make him reioice.
A Gentleman of all temperance. But leaue wee him to
his euents, with a praier they may proue prosperous, &
let me desire to know, how you finde Claudio prepar'd?
I am made to vnderstand, that you haue lent him visitation

   Duke. He professes to haue receiued no sinister measure
from his Iudge, but most willingly humbles himselfe
to the determination of Iustice: yet had he framed
to himselfe (by the instruction of his frailty) manie deceyuing
promises of life, which I (by my good leisure)
haue discredited to him, and now is he resolu'd to die

   Esc. You haue paid the heauens your Function, and
the prisoner the verie debt of your Calling. I haue labour'd
for the poore Gentleman, to the extremest shore
of my modestie, but my brother-Iustice haue I found so
seuere, that he hath forc'd me to tell him, hee is indeede
Iustice

   Duke. If his owne life,
Answere the straitnesse of his proceeding,
It shall become him well: wherein if he chance to faile
he hath sentenc'd himselfe

   Esc I am going to visit the prisoner, Fare you well

   Duke. Peace be with you.
He who the sword of Heauen will beare,
Should be as holy, as seueare:
Patterne in himselfe to know,
Grace to stand, and Vertue go:
More, nor lesse to others paying,
Then by selfe-offences weighing.
Shame to him, whose cruell striking,
Kils for faults of his owne liking:
Twice trebble shame on Angelo,
To weede my vice, and let his grow.
Oh, what may Man within him hide,
Though Angel on the outward side?
How may likenesse made in crimes,
Making practise on the Times,
To draw with ydle Spiders strings
Most ponderous and substantiall things?
Craft against vice, I must applie.
With Angelo to night shall lye
His old betroathed (but despised:)
So disguise shall by th' disguised
Pay with falshood, false exacting,
And performe an olde contracting.

Exit

Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Mariana, and Boy singing.

Song.

Take, oh take those lips away,
that so sweetly were forsworne,
And those eyes: the breake of day
lights that doe mislead the Morne;
But my kisses bring againe, bring againe,
Seales of loue, but seal'd in vaine, seal'd in vaine.

Enter Duke.

  Mar. Breake off thy song, and haste thee quick away,
Here comes a man of comfort, whose aduice
Hath often still'd my brawling discontent.
I cry you mercie, Sir, and well could wish
You had not found me here so musicall.
Let me excuse me, and beleeue me so,
My mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my woe

   Duk. 'Tis good; though Musick oft hath such a charme
To make bad, good; and good prouoake to harme.
I pray you tell me, hath any body enquir'd for mee here
to day; much vpon this time haue I promis'd here to
meete

   Mar. You haue not bin enquir'd after: I haue sat
here all day.

Enter Isabell.

  Duk. I doe constantly beleeue you: the time is come
euen now. I shall craue your forbearance a little, may be
I will call vpon you anone for some aduantage to your
selfe

   Mar. I am alwayes bound to you.

Enter.

  Duk. Very well met, and well come:
What is the newes from this good Deputie?
  Isab. He hath a Garden circummur'd with Bricke,
Whose westerne side is with a Vineyard back't;
And to that Vineyard is a planched gate,
That makes his opening with this bigger Key:
This other doth command a little doore,
Which from the Vineyard to the Garden leades,
There haue I made my promise, vpon the
Heauy midle of the night, to call vpon him

   Duk. But shall you on your knowledge find this way?
  Isab. I haue t'ane a due, and wary note vpon't,
With whispering, and most guiltie diligence,
In action all of precept, he did show me
The way twice ore

   Duk. Are there no other tokens
Betweene you 'greed, concerning her obseruance?
  Isab. No: none but onely a repaire ith' darke,
And that I haue possest him, my most stay
Can be but briefe: for I haue made him know,
I haue a Seruant comes with me along
That staies vpon me; whose perswasion is,
I come about my Brother

   Duk. 'Tis well borne vp.
I haue not yet made knowne to Mariana

Enter Mariana.

A word of this: what hoa, within; come forth,
I pray you be acquainted with this Maid,
She comes to doe you good

   Isab. I doe desire the like

   Duk. Do you perswade your selfe that I respect you?
  Mar. Good Frier, I know you do, and haue found it

   Duke. Take then this your companion by the hand
Who hath a storie readie for your eare:
I shall attend your leisure, but make haste
The vaporous night approaches

   Mar. Wilt please you walke aside.

Enter.

  Duke. Oh Place, and greatnes: millions of false eies
Are stucke vpon thee: volumes of report
Run with these false, and most contrarious Quest
Vpon thy doings: thousand escapes of wit
Make thee the father of their idle dreame,
And racke thee in their fancies. Welcome, how agreed?

Enter Mariana and Isabella.

  Isab. Shee'll take the enterprize vpon her father,
If you aduise it

   Duke. It is not my consent,
But my entreaty too

   Isa. Little haue you to say
When you depart from him, but soft and low,
Remember now my brother

   Mar. Feare me not

   Duk. Nor gentle daughter, feare you not at all:
He is your husband on a pre-contract:
To bring you thus together 'tis no sinne,
Sith that the Iustice of your title to him
Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let vs goe,
Our Corne's to reape, for yet our Tithes to sow.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Prouost and Clowne.

  Pro. Come hither sirha; can you cut off a mans head?
  Clo. If the man be a Bachelor Sir, I can:
But if he be a married man, he's his wiues head,
And I can neuer cut off a womans head

   Pro. Come sir, leaue me your snatches, and yeeld mee
a direct answere. To morrow morning are to die Claudio
and Barnardine: heere is in our prison a common executioner,
who in his office lacks a helper, if you will take
it on you to assist him, it shall redeeme you from your
Gyues: if not, you shall haue your full time of imprisonment,
and your deliuerance with an vnpittied whipping;
for you haue beene a notorious bawd

   Clo. Sir, I haue beene an vnlawfull bawd, time out of
minde, but yet I will bee content to be a lawfull hangman:
I would bee glad to receiue some instruction from
my fellow partner

   Pro. What hoa, Abhorson: where's Abhorson there?

Enter Abhorson.

  Abh. Doe you call sir?
  Pro. Sirha, here's a fellow will helpe you to morrow
in your execution: if you thinke it meet, compound with
him by the yeere, and let him abide here with you, if not,
vse him for the present, and dismisse him, hee cannot
plead his estimation with you: he hath beene a Bawd

   Abh. A Bawd Sir? fie vpon him, he will discredit our
mysterie

   Pro. Goe too Sir, you waigh equallie: a feather will
turne the Scale.

Enter.

  Clo. Pray sir, by your good fauor: for surely sir, a
good fauor you haue, but that you haue a hanging look:
Doe you call sir, your occupation a Mysterie?
  Abh. I Sir, a Misterie

   Clo. Painting Sir, I haue heard say, is a Misterie; and
your Whores sir, being members of my occupation, vsing
painting, do proue my Occupation, a Misterie: but
what Misterie there should be in hanging, if I should
be hang'd, I cannot imagine

   Abh. Sir, it is a Misterie

   Clo. Proofe

   Abh. Euerie true mans apparrell fits your Theefe

   Clo. If it be too little for your theefe, your true man
thinkes it bigge enough. If it bee too bigge for your
Theefe, your Theefe thinkes it little enough: So euerie
true mans apparrell fits your Theefe.
Enter Prouost.

  Pro. Are you agreed?
  Clo. Sir, I will serue him: For I do finde your Hangman
is a more penitent Trade then your Bawd: he doth
oftner aske forgiuenesse

   Pro. You sirrah, prouide your blocke and your Axe
to morrow, foure a clocke

   Abh. Come on (Bawd) I will instruct thee in my
Trade: follow

   Clo. I do desire to learne sir: and I hope, if you haue
occasion to vse me for your owne turne, you shall finde
me y'are. For truly sir, for your kindnesse, I owe you a
good turne.

Exit

  Pro. Call hether Barnardine and Claudio:
Th' one has my pitie; not a iot the other,
Being a Murtherer, though he were my brother.

Enter Claudio.

Looke, here's the Warrant Claudio, for thy death,
'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to morrow
Thou must be made immortall. Where's Barnardine?
  Cla. As fast lock'd vp in sleepe, as guiltlesse labour,
When it lies starkely in the Trauellers bones,
He will not wake

   Pro. Who can do good on him?
Well, go, prepare your selfe. But harke, what noise?
Heauen giue your spirits comfort: by, and by,
I hope it is some pardon, or repreeue
For the most gentle Claudio. Welcome Father.

Enter Duke.

  Duke. The best, and wholsomst spirits of the night,
Inuellop you, good Prouost: who call'd heere of late?
  Pro. None since the Curphew rung

   Duke. Not Isabell?
  Pro. No

   Duke. They will then er't be long

   Pro. What comfort is for Claudio?
  Duke. There's some in hope

   Pro. It is a bitter Deputie

   Duke. Not so, not so: his life is paralel'd
Euen with the stroke and line of his great Iustice:
He doth with holie abstinence subdue
That in himselfe, which he spurres on his powre
To qualifie in others: were he meal'd with that
Which he corrects, then were he tirrannous,
But this being so, he's iust. Now are they come.
This is a gentle Prouost, sildome when
The steeled Gaoler is the friend of men:
How now? what noise? That spirit's possest with hast,
That wounds th' vnsisting Posterne with these strokes

   Pro. There he must stay vntil the Officer
Arise to let him in: he is call'd vp

   Duke. Haue you no countermand for Claudio yet?
But he must die to morrow?
  Pro. None Sir, none

   Duke. As neere the dawning Prouost, as it is,
You shall heare more ere Morning

   Pro. Happely
You something know: yet I beleeue there comes
No countermand: no such example haue we:
Besides, vpon the verie siege of Iustice,
Lord Angelo hath to the publike eare
Profest the contrarie.

Enter a Messenger.

  Duke. This is his Lords man

   Pro. And heere comes Claudio's pardon

   Mess. My Lord hath sent you this note,
And by mee this further charge;
That you swerue not from the smallest Article of it,
Neither in time, matter, or other circumstance.
Good morrow: for as I take it, it is almost day

   Pro. I shall obey him

   Duke. This is his Pardon purchas'd by such sin,
For which the Pardoner himselfe is in:
Hence hath offence his quicke celeritie,
When it is borne in high Authority.
When Vice makes Mercie; Mercie's so extended,
That for the faults loue, is th' offender friended.
Now Sir, what newes?
  Pro. I told you:
Lord Angelo (be-like) thinking me remisse
In mine Office, awakens mee
With this vnwonted putting on, methinks strangely:
For he hath not vs'd it before

   Duk. Pray you let's heare.

The Letter.

Whatsoeuer you may heare to the contrary, let Claudio be executed
by foure of the clocke, and in the afternoone Bernardine:
For my better satisfaction, let mee haue Claudios
head sent me by fiue. Let this be duely performed with a
thought that more depends on it, then we must yet deliuer.
Thus faile not to doe your Office, as you will answere it at
your perill.
What say you to this Sir?
  Duke. What is that Barnardine, who is to be executed
in th' afternoone?
  Pro. A Bohemian borne: But here nurst vp & bred,
One that is a prisoner nine yeeres old

   Duke. How came it, that the absent Duke had not
either deliuer'd him to his libertie, or executed him? I
haue heard it was euer his manner to do so

   Pro. His friends still wrought Repreeues for him:
And indeed his fact till now in the gouernment of Lord
Angelo, came not to an vndoubtfull proofe

   Duke. It is now apparant?
  Pro. Most manifest, and not denied by himselfe

   Duke. Hath he borne himselfe penitently in prison?
How seemes he to be touch'd?
  Pro. A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully,
but as a drunken sleepe, carelesse, wreaklesse, and
fearelesse of what's past, present, or to come: insensible
of mortality, and desperately mortall

   Duke. He wants aduice

   Pro. He wil heare none: he hath euermore had the liberty
of the prison: giue him leaue to escape hence, hee
would not. Drunke many times a day, if not many daies
entirely drunke. We haue verie oft awak'd him, as if to
carrie him to execution, and shew'd him a seeming warrant
for it, it hath not moued him at all

   Duke. More of him anon: There is written in your
brow Prouost, honesty and constancie; if I reade it not
truly, my ancient skill beguiles me: but in the boldnes
of my cunning, I will lay my selfe in hazard: Claudio,
whom heere you haue warrant to execute, is no greater
forfeit to the Law, then Angelo who hath sentenc'd him.
To make you vnderstand this in a manifested effect, I
craue but foure daies respit: for the which, you are to
do me both a present, and a dangerous courtesie

   Pro. Pray Sir, in what?
  Duke. In the delaying death

   Pro. Alacke, how may I do it? Hauing the houre limited,
and an expresse command, vnder penaltie, to deliuer
his head in the view of Angelo? I may make my
case as Claudio's, to crosse this in the smallest

   Duke. By the vow of mine Order, I warrant you,
If my instructions may be your guide,
Let this Barnardine be this morning executed,
And his head borne to Angelo

   Pro. Angelo hath seene them both,
And will discouer the fauour

   Duke. Oh, death's a great disguiser, and you may
adde to it; Shaue the head, and tie the beard, and say it
was the desire of the penitent to be so bar'de before his
death: you know the course is common. If any thing
fall to you vpon this, more then thankes and good fortune,
by the Saint whom I professe, I will plead against
it with my life

   Pro. Pardon me, good Father, it is against my oath

   Duke. Were you sworne to the Duke, or to the Deputie?
  Pro. To him, and to his Substitutes

   Duke. You will thinke you haue made no offence, if
the Duke auouch the iustice of your dealing?
  Pro. But what likelihood is in that?
  Duke. Not a resemblance, but a certainty; yet since
I see you fearfull, that neither my coate, integrity, nor
perswasion, can with ease attempt you, I wil go further
then I meant, to plucke all feares out of you. Looke
you Sir, heere is the hand and Seale of the Duke: you
know the Charracter I doubt not, and the Signet is not
strange to you?
  Pro. I know them both

   Duke. The Contents of this, is the returne of the
Duke; you shall anon ouer-reade it at your pleasure:
where you shall finde within these two daies, he wil be
heere. This is a thing that Angelo knowes not, for hee
this very day receiues letters of strange tenor, perchance
of the Dukes death, perchance entering into some Monasterie,
but by chance nothing of what is writ. Looke,
th' vnfolding Starre calles vp the Shepheard; put not
your selfe into amazement, how these things should be;
all difficulties are but easie when they are knowne. Call
your executioner, and off with Barnardines head: I will
giue him a present shrift, and aduise him for a better
place. Yet you are amaz'd, but this shall absolutely resolue
you: Come away, it is almost cleere dawne.

Enter.


Scena Tertia.

Enter Clowne.

  Clo. I am as well acquainted heere, as I was in our
house of profession: one would thinke it were Mistris
Ouerdons owne house, for heere be manie of her olde
Customers. First, here's yong Mr Rash, hee's in for a
commoditie of browne paper, and olde Ginger, nine
score and seuenteene pounds, of which hee made fiue
Markes readie money: marrie then, Ginger was not
much in request, for the olde Women were all dead.
Then is there heere one Mr Caper, at the suite of Master
Three-Pile the Mercer, for some foure suites of Peachcolour'd
Satten, which now peaches him a beggar.
Then haue we heere, yong Dizie, and yong Mr Deepevow,
and Mr Copperspurre, and Mr Starue-Lackey the Rapier
and dagger man, and yong Drop-heire that kild lustie
Pudding, and Mr Forthlight the Tilter, and braue Mr
Shootie the great Traueller, and wilde Halfe-Canne that
stabb'd Pots, and I thinke fortie more, all great doers in
our Trade, and are now for the Lords sake.

Enter Abhorson.

  Abh. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hether

   Clo. Mr Barnardine, you must rise and be hang'd,
Mr Barnardine

   Abh. What hoa Barnardine.

Barnardine within.

  Bar. A pox o'your throats: who makes that noyse
there? What are you?
  Clo. Your friends Sir, the Hangman:
You must be so good Sir to rise, and be put to death

   Bar. Away you Rogue, away, I am sleepie

   Abh. Tell him he must awake,
And that quickly too

   Clo. Pray Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed,
and sleepe afterwards

   Ab. Go in to him, and fetch him out

   Clo. He is comming Sir, he is comming: I heare his
Straw russle.

Enter Barnardine.

  Abh. Is the Axe vpon the blocke, sirrah?
  Clo. Verie readie Sir

   Bar. How now Abhorson?
What's the newes with you?
  Abh. Truly Sir, I would desire you to clap into your
prayers: for looke you, the Warrants come

   Bar. You Rogue, I haue bin drinking all night,
I am not fitted for't

   Clo. Oh, the better Sir: for he that drinkes all night,
and is hanged betimes in the morning, may sleepe the
sounder all the next day.

Enter Duke.

  Abh. Looke you Sir, heere comes your ghostly Father:
do we iest now thinke you?
  Duke. Sir, induced by my charitie, and hearing how
hastily you are to depart, I am come to aduise you,
Comfort you, and pray with you

   Bar. Friar, not I: I haue bin drinking hard all night,
and I will haue more time to prepare mee, or they shall
beat out my braines with billets: I will not consent to
die this day, that's certaine

   Duke. Oh sir, you must: and therefore I beseech you
Looke forward on the iournie you shall go

   Bar. I sweare I will not die to day for anie mans perswasion

   Duke. But heare you:
  Bar. Not a word: if you haue anie thing to say to me,
come to my Ward: for thence will not I to day.

Exit

Enter Prouost.

  Duke. Vnfit to liue, or die: oh grauell heart.
After him (Fellowes) bring him to the blocke

   Pro. Now Sir, how do you finde the prisoner?
  Duke. A creature vnprepar'd, vnmeet for death,
And to transport him in the minde he is,
Were damnable

   Pro. Heere in the prison, Father,
There died this morning of a cruell Feauor,
One Ragozine, a most notorious Pirate,
A man of Claudio's yeares: his beard, and head
Iust of his colour. What if we do omit
This Reprobate, til he were wel enclin'd,
And satisfie the Deputie with the visage
Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?
  Duke. Oh, 'tis an accident that heauen prouides:
Dispatch it presently, the houre drawes on
Prefixt by Angelo: See this be done,
And sent according to command, whiles I
Perswade this rude wretch willingly to die

   Pro. This shall be done (good Father) presently:
But Barnardine must die this afternoone,
And how shall we continue Claudio,
To saue me from the danger that might come,
If he were knowne aliue?
  Duke. Let this be done,
Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio,
Ere twice the Sun hath made his iournall greeting
To yond generation, you shal finde
Your safetie manifested

   Pro. I am your free dependant.

Enter.

  Duke. Quicke, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo
Now wil I write Letters to Angelo,
(The Prouost he shal beare them) whose contents
Shal witnesse to him I am neere at home:
And that by great Iniunctions I am bound
To enter publikely: him Ile desire
To meet me at the consecrated Fount,
A League below the Citie: and from thence,
By cold gradation, and weale-ballanc'd forme.
We shal proceed with Angelo.

Enter Prouost.

  Pro. Heere is the head, Ile carrie it my selfe

   Duke. Conuenient is it: Make a swift returne,
For I would commune with you of such things,
That want no eare but yours

   Pro. Ile make all speede.

Exit

Isabell within.

  Isa. Peace hoa, be heere

   Duke. The tongue of Isabell. She's come to know,
If yet her brothers pardon be come hither:
But I will keepe her ignorant of her good,
To make her heauenly comforts of dispaire,
When it is least expected.

Enter Isabella.

  Isa. Hoa, by your leaue

   Duke. Good morning to you, faire, and gracious
daughter

   Isa. The better giuen me by so holy a man,
Hath yet the Deputie sent my brothers pardon?
  Duke. He hath releasd him, Isabell, from the world,
His head is off, and sent to Angelo

   Isa. Nay, but it is not so

   Duke. It is no other,
Shew your wisedome daughter in your close patience

   Isa. Oh, I wil to him, and plucke out his eies

   Duk. You shal not be admitted to his sight

   Isa. Vnhappie Claudio, wretched Isabell,
Iniurious world, most damned Angelo

   Duke. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a iot,
Forbeare it therefore, giue your cause to heauen.
Marke what I say, which you shal finde
By euery sillable a faithful veritie.
The Duke comes home to morrow: nay drie your eyes,
One of our Couent, and his Confessor
Giues me this instance: Already he hath carried
Notice to Escalus and Angelo,
Who do prepare to meete him at the gates,
There to giue vp their powre: If you can pace your wisdome,
In that good path that I would wish it go,
And you shal haue your bosome on this wretch,
Grace of the Duke, reuenges to your heart,
And general Honor

   Isa. I am directed by you

   Duk. This Letter then to Friar Peter giue,
'Tis that he sent me of the Dukes returne:
Say, by this token, I desire his companie
At Mariana's house to night. Her cause, and yours
Ile perfect him withall, and he shal bring you
Before the Duke; and to the head of Angelo
Accuse him home and home. For my poore selfe,
I am combined by a sacred Vow,
And shall be absent. Wend you with this Letter:
Command these fretting waters from your eies
With a light heart; trust not my holie Order
If I peruert your course: whose heere?

Enter Lucio.

  Luc. Good' euen;
Frier, where's the Prouost?
  Duke. Not within Sir

   Luc. Oh prettie Isabella, I am pale at mine heart, to
see thine eyes so red: thou must be patient; I am faine
to dine and sup with water and bran: I dare not for my
head fill my belly. One fruitful Meale would set mee
too't: but they say the Duke will be heere to Morrow.
By my troth Isabell I lou'd thy brother, if the olde fantastical
Duke of darke corners had bene at home, he had
liued

   Duke. Sir, the Duke is marueilous little beholding
to your reports, but the best is, he liues not in them

   Luc. Friar, thou knowest not the Duke so wel as I
do: he's a better woodman then thou tak'st him for

   Duke. Well: you'l answer this one day. Fare ye well

   Luc. Nay tarrie, Ile go along with thee,
I can tel thee pretty tales of the Duke

   Duke. You haue told me too many of him already sir
if they be true: if not true, none were enough

   Lucio. I was once before him for getting a Wench
with childe

   Duke. Did you such a thing?
  Luc. Yes marrie did I; but I was faine to forswear it,
They would else haue married me to the rotten Medler

   Duke. Sir your company is fairer then honest, rest you
well

   Lucio. By my troth Ile go with thee to the lanes end:
if baudy talke offend you, wee'l haue very litle of it: nay
Friar, I am a kind of Burre, I shal sticke.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Angelo & Escalus.

  Esc. Euery Letter he hath writ, hath disuouch'd other

   An. In most vneuen and distracted manner, his actions
show much like to madnesse, pray heauen his wisedome
bee not tainted: and why meet him at the gates and deliuer
our authorities there?
  Esc. I ghesse not

   Ang. And why should wee proclaime it in an howre
before his entring, that if any craue redresse of iniustice,
they should exhibit their petitions in the street?
  Esc. He showes his reason for that: to haue a dispatch
of Complaints, and to deliuer vs from deuices heereafter,
which shall then haue no power to stand against
vs

   Ang. Well: I beseech you let it bee proclaim'd betimes
i'th' morne, Ile call you at your house: giue notice
to such men of sort and suite as are to meete him

   Esc. I shall sir: fareyouwell.

Enter.

  Ang. Good night.
This deede vnshapes me quite, makes me vnpregnant
And dull to all proceedings. A deflowred maid,
And by an eminent body, that enforc'd
The Law against it? But that her tender shame
Will not proclaime against her maiden losse,
How might she tongue me? yet reason dares her no,
For my Authority beares of a credent bulke,
That no particular scandall once can touch
But it confounds the breather. He should haue liu'd,
Saue that his riotous youth with dangerous sense
Might in the times to come haue ta'ne reuenge
By so receiuing a dishonor'd life
With ransome of such shame: would yet he had liued.
Alack, when once our grace we haue forgot,
Nothing goes right, we would, and we would not.

Enter.


Scena Quinta.

Enter Duke and Frier Peter.

  Duke. These Letters at fit time deliuer me,
The Prouost knowes our purpose and our plot,
The matter being a foote, keepe your instruction
And hold you euer to our speciall drift,
Though sometimes you doe blench from this to that
As cause doth minister: Goe call at Flauia's house,
And tell him where I stay: giue the like notice
To Valencius, Rowland, and to Crassus,
And bid them bring the Trumpets to the gate:
But send me Flauius first

   Peter. It shall be speeded well.

Enter Varrius.

  Duke. I thank thee Varrius, thou hast made good hast,
Come, we will walke: There's other of our friends
Will greet vs heere anon: my gentle Varrius.

Exeunt.


Scena Sexta.

Enter Isabella and Mariana.

  Isab. To speake so indirectly I am loath,
I would say the truth, but to accuse him so
That is your part, yet I am aduis'd to doe it,
He saies, to vaile full purpose

   Mar. Be rul'd by him

   Isab. Besides he tells me, that if peraduenture
He speake against me on the aduerse side,
I should not thinke it strange, for 'tis a physicke
That's bitter, to sweet end.

Enter Peter.

  Mar. I would Frier Peter
  Isab. Oh peace, the Frier is come

   Peter. Come I haue found you out a stand most fit,
Where you may haue such vantage on the Duke
He shall not passe you:
Twice haue the Trumpets sounded.
The generous, and grauest Citizens
Haue hent the gates, and very neere vpon
The Duke is entring:
Therefore hence away.

Exeunt.


Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Duke, Varrius, Lords, Angelo, Esculus, Lucio, Citizens at
seuerall
doores.

  Duk. My very worthy Cosen, fairely met,
Our old, and faithfull friend, we are glad to see you

   Ang. Esc. Happy returne be to your royall grace

   Duk. Many and harty thankings to you both:
We haue made enquiry of you, and we heare
Such goodnesse of your Iustice, that our soule
Cannot but yeeld you forth to publique thankes
Forerunning more requitall

   Ang. You make my bonds still greater

   Duk. Oh your desert speaks loud, & I should wrong it
To locke it in the wards of couert bosome
When it deserues with characters of brasse
A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time,
And razure of obliuion: Giue we your hand
And let the Subiect see, to make them know
That outward curtesies would faine proclaime
Fauours that keepe within: Come Escalus,
You must walke by vs, on our other hand:
And good supporters are you.

Enter Peter and Isabella.

  Peter. Now is your time
Speake loud, and kneele before him

   Isab. Iustice, O royall Duke, vaile your regard
Vpon a wrong'd (I would faine haue said a Maid)
Oh worthy Prince, dishonor not your eye
By throwing it on any other obiect,
Till you haue heard me, in my true complaint,
And giuen me Iustice, Iustice, Iustice, Iustice

   Duk. Relate your wrongs;
In what, by whom? be briefe:
Here is Lord Angelo shall giue you Iustice,
Reueale your selfe to him

   Isab. Oh worthy Duke,
You bid me seeke redemption of the diuell,
Heare me your selfe: for that which I must speake
Must either punish me, not being beleeu'd,
Or wring redresse from you:
Heare me: oh heare me, heere

   Ang. My Lord, her wits I feare me are not firme:
She hath bin a suitor to me, for her Brother
Cut off by course of Iustice

   Isab. By course of Iustice

   Ang. And she will speake most bitterly, and strange

   Isab. Most strange: but yet most truely wil I speake,
That Angelo's forsworne, is it not strange?
That Angelo's a murtherer, is't not strange?
That Angelo is an adulterous thiefe,
An hypocrite, a virgin violator,
Is it not strange? and strange?
  Duke. Nay it is ten times strange?
  Isa. It is not truer he is Angelo,
Then this is all as true, as it is strange;
Nay, it is ten times true, for truth is truth
To th' end of reckning

   Duke. Away with her: poore soule
She speakes this, in th' infirmity of sence

   Isa. Oh Prince, I coniure thee, as thou beleeu'st
There is another comfort, then this world,
That thou neglect me not, with that opinion
That I am touch'd with madnesse: make not impossible
That which but seemes vnlike, 'tis not impossible
But one, the wickedst caitiffe on the ground
May seeme as shie, as graue, as iust, as absolute:
As Angelo, euen so may Angelo
In all his dressings, caracts, titles, formes,
Be an arch-villaine: Beleeue it, royall Prince
If he be lesse, he's nothing, but he's more,
Had I more name for badnesse

   Duke. By mine honesty
If she be mad, as I beleeue no other,
Her madnesse hath the oddest frame of sense,
Such a dependancy of thing, on thing,
As ere I heard in madnesse

   Isab. Oh gracious Duke
Harpe not on that; nor do not banish reason
For inequality, but let your reason serue
To make the truth appeare, where it seemes hid,
And hide the false seemes true

   Duk. Many that are not mad
Haue sure more lacke of reason:
What would you say?
  Isab. I am the Sister of one Claudio,
Condemnd vpon the Act of Fornication
To loose his head, condemn'd by Angelo,
I, (in probation of a Sisterhood)
Was sent to by my Brother; one Lucio
As then the Messenger

   Luc. That's I, and't like your Grace:
I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her,
To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo,
For her poore Brothers pardon

   Isab. That's he indeede

   Duk. You were not bid to speake

   Luc. No, my good Lord,
Nor wish'd to hold my peace

   Duk. I wish you now then,
Pray you take note of it: and when you haue
A businesse for your selfe: pray heauen you then
Be perfect

   Luc. I warrant your honor

   Duk. The warrant's for your selfe: take heede to't

   Isab. This Gentleman told somewhat of my Tale

   Luc. Right

   Duk. It may be right, but you are i'the wrong
To speake before your time: proceed,
  Isab. I went
To this pernicious Caitiffe Deputie

   Duk. That's somewhat madly spoken

   Isab. Pardon it,
The phrase is to the matter

   Duke. Mended againe: the matter: proceed

   Isab. In briefe, to set the needlesse processe by:
How I perswaded, how I praid, and kneel'd,
How he refeld me, and how I replide
(For this was of much length) the vild conclusion
I now begin with griefe, and shame to vtter.
He would not, but by gift of my chaste body
To his concupiscible intemperate lust
Release my brother; and after much debatement,
My sisterly remorse, confutes mine honour,
And I did yeeld to him: But the next morne betimes,
His purpose surfetting, he sends a warrant
For my poore brothers head

   Duke. This is most likely

   Isab. Oh that it were as like as it is true

   Duk. By heauen (fond wretch) y knowst not what thou speak'st,
Or else thou art suborn'd against his honor
In hatefull practise: first his Integritie
Stands without blemish: next it imports no reason,
That with such vehemency he should pursue
Faults proper to himselfe: if he had so offended
He would haue waigh'd thy brother by himselfe,
And not haue cut him off: some one hath set you on:
Confesse the truth, and say by whose aduice
Thou cam'st heere to complaine

   Isab. And is this all?
Then oh you blessed Ministers aboue
Keepe me in patience, and with ripened time
Vnfold the euill, which is heere wrapt vp
In countenance: heauen shield your Grace from woe,
As I thus wrong'd, hence vnbeleeued goe

   Duke. I know you'ld faine be gone: An Officer:
To prison with her: Shall we thus permit
A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall,
On him so neere vs? This needs must be a practise:
Who knew of your intent and comming hither?
  Isa. One that I would were heere, Frier Lodowick

   Duk. A ghostly Father, belike:
Who knowes that Lodowicke?
  Luc. My Lord, I know him, 'tis a medling Fryer,
I doe not like the man: had he been Lay my Lord,
For certaine words he spake against your Grace
In your retirment, I had swing'd him soundly

   Duke. Words against mee? this' a good Fryer belike
And to set on this wretched woman here
Against our Substitute: Let this Fryer be found

   Luc. But yesternight my Lord, she and that Fryer
I saw them at the prison: a sawcy Fryar,
A very scuruy fellow

   Peter. Blessed be your Royall Grace:
I haue stood by my Lord, and I haue heard
Your royall eare abus'd: first hath this woman
Most wrongfully accus'd your Substitute,
Who is as free from touch, or soyle with her
As she from one vngot

   Duke. We did beleeue no lesse.
Know you that Frier Lodowick that she speakes of?
  Peter. I know him for a man diuine and holy,
Not scuruy, nor a temporary medler
As he's reported by this Gentleman:
And on my trust, a man that neuer yet
Did (as he vouches) mis-report your Grace

   Luc. My Lord, most villanously, beleeue it

   Peter. Well: he in time may come to cleere himselfe;
But at this instant he is sicke, my Lord:
Of a strange Feauor: vpon his meere request
Being come to knowledge, that there was complaint
Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hether
To speake as from his mouth, what he doth know
Is true, and false: And what he with his oath
And all probation will make vp full cleare
Whensoeuer he's conuented: First for this woman,
To iustifie this worthy Noble man
So vulgarly and personally accus'd,
Her shall you heare disproued to her eyes,
Till she her selfe confesse it

   Duk. Good Frier, let's heare it:
Doe you not smile at this, Lord Angelo?
Oh heauen, the vanity of wretched fooles.
Giue vs some seates, Come cosen Angelo,
In this I'll be impartiall: be you Iudge
Of your owne Cause: Is this the Witnes Frier?

Enter Mariana.

First, let her shew your face, and after, speake

   Mar. Pardon my Lord, I will not shew my face
Vntill my husband bid me

   Duke. What, are you married?
  Mar. No my Lord

   Duke. Are you a Maid?
  Mar. No my Lord

   Duk. A Widow then?
  Mar. Neither, my Lord

   Duk. Why you are nothing then: neither Maid, Widow,
nor Wife?
  Luc. My Lord, she may be a Puncke: for many of
them, are neither Maid, Widow, nor Wife

   Duk. Silence that fellow: I would he had some cause
to prattle for himselfe

   Luc. Well my Lord

   Mar. My Lord, I doe confesse I nere was married,
And I confesse besides, I am no Maid,
I haue known my husband, yet my husband
Knowes not, that euer he knew me

   Luc. He was drunk then, my Lord, it can be no better

   Duk. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so to

   Luc. Well, my Lord

   Duk. This is no witnesse for Lord Angelo

   Mar. Now I come to't, my Lord.
Shee that accuses him of Fornication,
In selfe-same manner, doth accuse my husband,
And charges him, my Lord, with such a time,
When I'le depose I had him in mine Armes
With all th' effect of Loue

   Ang. Charges she moe then me?
  Mar. Not that I know

   Duk. No? you say your husband

   Mar. Why iust, my Lord, and that is Angelo,
Who thinkes he knowes, that he nere knew my body,
But knows, he thinkes, that he knowes Isabels

   Ang. This is a strange abuse: Let's see thy face

   Mar. My husband bids me, now I will vnmaske.
This is that face, thou cruell Angelo
Which once thou sworst, was worth the looking on:
This is the hand, which with a vowd contract
Was fast belockt in thine: This is the body
That tooke away the match from Isabell,
And did supply thee at thy garden-house
In her Imagin'd person

   Duke. Know you this woman?
  Luc. Carnallie she saies

   Duk. Sirha, no more

   Luc. Enough my Lord

   Ang. My Lord, I must confesse, I know this woman,
And fiue yeres since there was some speech of marriage
Betwixt my selfe, and her: which was broke off,
Partly for that her promis'd proportions
Came short of Composition: But in chiefe
For that her reputation was dis-valued
In leuitie: Since which time of fiue yeres
I neuer spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her
Vpon my faith, and honor

   Mar. Noble Prince,
As there comes light from heauen, and words fro[m] breath,
As there is sence in truth, and truth in vertue,
I am affianced this mans wife, as strongly
As words could make vp vowes: And my good Lord,
But Tuesday night last gon, in's garden house,
He knew me as a wife. As this is true,
Let me in safety raise me from my knees,
Or else for euer be confixed here
A Marble Monument

   Ang. I did but smile till now,
Now, good my Lord, giue me the scope of Iustice,
My patience here is touch'd: I doe perceiue
These poore informall women, are no more
But instruments of some more mightier member
That sets them on. Let me haue way, my Lord
To finde this practise out

   Duke. I, with my heart,
And punish them to your height of pleasure.
Thou foolish Frier, and thou pernicious woman
Compact with her that's gone: thinkst thou, thy oathes,
Though they would swear downe each particular Saint,
Were testimonies against his worth, and credit
That's seald in approbation? you, Lord Escalus
Sit with my Cozen, lend him your kinde paines
To finde out this abuse, whence 'tis deriu'd.
There is another Frier that set them on,
Let him be sent for

   Peter. Would he were here, my Lord, for he indeed
Hath set the women on to this Complaint;
Your Prouost knowes the place where he abides,
And he may fetch him

   Duke. Goe, doe it instantly:
And you, my noble and well-warranted Cosen
Whom it concernes to heare this matter forth,
Doe with your iniuries as seemes you best
In any chastisement; I for a while
Will leaue you; but stir not you till you haue
Well determin'd vpon these Slanderers.

Enter.

  Esc. My Lord, wee'll doe it throughly: Signior Lucio,
did not you say you knew that Frier Lodowick to be a
dishonest person?
  Luc. Cucullus non facit Monachum, honest in nothing
but in his Clothes, and one that hath spoke most villanous
speeches of the Duke

   Esc. We shall intreat you to abide heere till he come,
and inforce them against him: we shall finde this Frier a
notable fellow

   Luc. As any in Vienna, on my word

   Esc. Call that same Isabell here once againe, I would
speake with her: pray you, my Lord, giue mee leaue to
question, you shall see how Ile handle her

   Luc. Not better then he, by her owne report

   Esc. Say you?
  Luc. Marry sir, I thinke, if you handled her priuately
She would sooner confesse, perchance publikely she'll be
asham'd.

Enter Duke, Prouost, Isabella

  Esc. I will goe darkely to worke with her

   Luc. That's the way: for women are light at midnight

   Esc. Come on Mistris, here's a Gentlewoman,
Denies all that you haue said

   Luc. My Lord, here comes the rascall I spoke of,
Here, with the Prouost

   Esc. In very good time: speake not you to him, till
we call vpon you

   Luc. Mum

   Esc. Come Sir, did you set these women on to slander
Lord Angelo? they haue confes'd you did

   Duk. 'Tis false

   Esc. How? Know you where you are?
  Duk. Respect to your great place; and let the diuell
Be sometime honour'd, for his burning throne.
Where is the Duke? 'tis he should heare me speake

   Esc. The Duke's in vs: and we will heare you speake,
Looke you speake iustly

   Duk. Boldly, at least. But oh poore soules,
Come you to seeke the Lamb here of the Fox;
Good night to your redresse: Is the Duke gone?
Then is your cause gone too: The Duke's vniust,
Thus to retort your manifest Appeale,
And put your triall in the villaines mouth,
Which here you come to accuse

   Luc. This is the rascall: this is he I spoke of

   Esc. Why thou vnreuerend, and vnhallowed Fryer:
Is't not enough thou hast suborn'd these women,
To accuse this worthy man? but in foule mouth,
And in the witnesse of his proper eare,
To call him villaine; and then to glance from him,
To th'Duke himselfe, to taxe him with Iniustice?
Take him hence; to th' racke with him: we'll towze you
Ioynt by ioynt, but we will know his purpose:
What? vniust?
  Duk. Be not so hot: the Duke dare
No more stretch this finger of mine, then he
Dare racke his owne: his Subiect am I not,
Nor here Prouinciall: My businesse in this State
Made me a looker on here in Vienna,
Where I haue seene corruption boyle and bubble,
Till it ore-run the Stew: Lawes, for all faults,
But faults so countenanc'd, that the strong Statutes
Stand like the forfeites in a Barbers shop,
As much in mocke, as marke

   Esc. Slander to th' State:
Away with him to prison

   Ang. What can you vouch against him Signior Lucio?
Is this the man you did tell vs of?
  Luc. 'Tis he, my Lord: come hither goodman bald-pate,
doe you know me?
  Duk. I remember you Sir, by the sound of your voice,
I met you at the Prison, in the absence of the Duke

   Luc. Oh, did you so? and do you remember what you
said of the Duke

   Duk. Most notedly Sir

   Luc. Do you so Sir: And was the Duke a flesh-monger,
a foole, and a coward, as you then reported him
to be?
  Duk. You must (Sir) change persons with me, ere you
make that my report: you indeede spoke so of him, and
much more, much worse

   Luc. Oh thou damnable fellow: did I not plucke thee
by the nose, for thy speeches?
  Duk. I protest, I loue the Duke, as I loue my selfe

   Ang. Harke how the villaine would close now, after
his treasonable abuses

   Esc. Such a fellow is not to be talk'd withall: Away
with him to prison: Where is the Prouost? away with
him to prison: lay bolts enough vpon him: let him speak
no more: away with those Giglets too, and with the other
confederate companion

   Duk. Stay Sir, stay a while

   Ang. What, resists he? helpe him Lucio

   Luc. Come sir, come sir, come sir: foh sir, why you
bald-pated lying rascall: you must be hooded must you?
show your knaues visage with a poxe to you: show your
sheepe-biting face, and be hang'd an houre: Will't
not off?
  Duk. Thou art the first knaue, that ere mad'st a Duke.
First Prouost, let me bayle these gentle three:
Sneake not away Sir, for the Fryer, and you,
Must haue a word anon: lay hold on him

   Luc. This may proue worse then hanging

   Duk. What you haue spoke, I pardon: sit you downe,
We'll borrow place of him; Sir, by your leaue:
Ha'st thou or word, or wit, or impudence,
That yet can doe thee office? If thou ha'st
Rely vpon it, till my tale be heard,
And hold no longer out

   Ang. Oh, my dread Lord,
I should be guiltier then my guiltinesse,
To thinke I can be vndiscerneable,
When I perceiue your grace, like powre diuine,
Hath look'd vpon my passes. Then good Prince,
No longer Session hold vpon my shame,
But let my Triall, be mine owne Confession:
Immediate sentence then, and sequent death,
Is all the grace I beg

   Duk. Come hither Mariana,
Say: was't thou ere contracted to this woman?
  Ang. I was my Lord

   Duk. Goe take her hence, and marry her instantly.
Doe you the office (Fryer) which consummate,
Returne him here againe: goe with him Prouost.

Enter.

  Esc. My Lord, I am more amaz'd at his dishonor,
Then at the strangenesse of it

   Duk. Come hither Isabell,
Your Frier is now your Prince: As I was then
Aduertysing, and holy to your businesse,
(Not changing heart with habit) I am still,
Atturnied at your seruice

   Isab. Oh giue me pardon
That I, your vassaile, haue imploid, and pain'd
Your vnknowne Soueraigntie

   Duk. You are pardon'd Isabell:
And now, deere Maide, be you as free to vs.
Your Brothers death I know sits at your heart:
And you may maruaile, why I obscur'd my selfe,
Labouring to saue his life: and would not rather
Make rash remonstrance of my hidden powre,
Then let him so be lost: oh most kinde Maid,
It was the swift celeritie of his death,
Which I did thinke, with slower foot came on,
That brain'd my purpose: but peace be with him,
That life is better life past fearing death,
Then that which liues to feare: make it your comfort,
So happy is your Brother.

Enter Angelo, Maria, Peter, Prouost.

  Isab. I doe my Lord

   Duk. For this new-maried man, approaching here,
Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd
Your well defended honor: you must pardon
For Mariana's sake: But as he adiudg'd your Brother,
Being criminall, in double violation
Of sacred Chastitie, and of promise-breach,
Thereon dependant for your Brothers life,
The very mercy of the Law cries out
Most audible, euen from his proper tongue.
An Angelo for Claudio, death for death:
Haste still paies haste, and leasure, answers leasure;
Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure:
Then Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested;
Which though thou would'st deny, denies thee vantage.
We doe condemne thee to the very Blocke
Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste.
Away with him

   Mar. Oh my most gracious Lord,
I hope you will not mocke me with a husband?
  Duk. It is your husband mock't you with a husband,
Consenting to the safe-guard of your honor,
I thought your marriage fit: else Imputation,
For that he knew you, might reproach your life,
And choake your good to come: For his Possessions,
Although by confutation they are ours;
We doe en-state, and widow you with all,
To buy you a better husband

   Mar. Oh my deere Lord,
I craue no other, nor no better man

   Duke. Neuer craue him, we are definitiue

   Mar. Gentle my Liege

   Duke. You doe but loose your labour.
Away with him to death: Now Sir, to you

   Mar. Oh my good Lord, sweet Isabell, take my part,
Lend me your knees, and all my life to come,
I'll lend you all my life to doe you seruice

   Duke. Against all sence you doe importune her,
Should she kneele downe, in mercie of this fact,
Her Brothers ghost, his paued bed would breake,
And take her hence in horror

   Mar. Isabell:
Sweet Isabel, doe yet but kneele by me,
Hold vp your hands, say nothing: I'll speake all.
They say best men are moulded out of faults,
And for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad: So may my husband.
Oh Isabel: will you not lend a knee?
  Duke. He dies for Claudio's death

   Isab. Most bounteous Sir.
Looke if it please you, on this man condemn'd,
As if my Brother liu'd: I partly thinke,
A due sinceritie gouerned his deedes,
Till he did looke on me: Since it is so,
Let him not die: my Brother had but Iustice,
In that he did the thing for which he dide.
For Angelo, his Act did not ore-take his bad intent,
And must be buried but as an intent
That perish'd by the way: thoughts are no subiects
Intents, but meerely thoughts

   Mar. Meerely my Lord

   Duk. Your suite's vnprofitable: stand vp I say:
I haue bethought me of another fault.
Prouost, how came it Claudio was beheaded
At an vnusuall howre?
  Pro. It was commanded so

   Duke. Had you a speciall warrant for the deed?
  Pro. No my good Lord: it was by priuate message

   Duk. For which I doe discharge you of your office,
Giue vp your keyes

   Pro. Pardon me, noble Lord,
I thought it was a fault, but knew it not,
Yet did repent me after more aduice,
For testimony whereof, one in the prison
That should by priuate order else haue dide,
I haue reseru'd aliue

   Duk. What's he?
  Pro. His name is Barnardine

   Duke. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio:
Goe fetch him hither, let me looke vpon him

   Esc. I am sorry, one so learned, and so wise
As you, Lord Angelo, haue stil appear'd,
Should slip so grosselie, both in the heat of bloud
And lacke of temper'd iudgement afterward

   Ang. I am sorrie, that such sorrow I procure,
And so deepe sticks it in my penitent heart,
That I craue death more willingly then mercy,
'Tis my deseruing, and I doe entreat it.

Enter Barnardine and Prouost, Claudio, Iulietta.

  Duke. Which is that Barnardine?
  Pro. This my Lord

   Duke. There was a Friar told me of this man.
Sirha, thou art said to haue a stubborne soule
That apprehends no further then this world,
And squar'st thy life according: Thou'rt condemn'd,
But for those earthly faults, I quit them all,
And pray thee take this mercie to prouide
For better times to come: Frier aduise him,
I leaue him to your hand. What muffeld fellow's that?
  Pro. This is another prisoner that I sau'd,
Who should haue di'd when Claudio lost his head,
As like almost to Claudio, as himselfe

   Duke. If he be like your brother, for his sake
Is he pardon'd, and for your louelie sake
Giue me your hand, and say you will be mine,
He is my brother too: But fitter time for that:
By this Lord Angelo perceiues he's safe,
Methinkes I see a quickning in his eye:
Well Angelo, your euill quits you well.
Looke that you loue your wife: her worth, worth yours
I finde an apt remission in my selfe:
And yet heere's one in place I cannot pardon,
You sirha, that knew me for a foole, a Coward,
One all of Luxurie, an asse, a mad man:
Wherein haue I so deseru'd of you
That you extoll me thus?
  Luc. 'Faith my Lord, I spoke it but according to the
trick: if you will hang me for it you may: but I had rather
it would please you, I might be whipt

   Duke. Whipt first, sir, and hang'd after.
Proclaime it Prouost round about the Citie,
If any woman wrong'd by this lewd fellow
(As I haue heard him sweare himselfe there's one
whom he begot with childe) let her appeare,
And he shall marry her: the nuptiall finish'd,
Let him be whipt and hang'd

   Luc. I beseech your Highnesse doe not marry me to
a Whore: your Highnesse said euen now I made you a
Duke, good my Lord do not recompence me, in making
me a Cuckold

   Duke. Vpon mine honor thou shalt marrie her.
Thy slanders I forgiue, and therewithall
Remit thy other forfeits: take him to prison,
And see our pleasure herein executed

   Luc. Marrying a punke my Lord, is pressing to death,
Whipping and hanging

   Duke. Slandering a Prince deserues it.
She Claudio that you wrong'd, looke you restore.
Ioy to you Mariana, loue her Angelo:
I haue confes'd her, and I know her vertue.
Thanks good friend, Escalus, for thy much goodnesse,
There's more behinde that is more gratulate.
Thanks Prouost for thy care, and secrecie,
We shall imploy thee in a worthier place.
Forgiue him Angelo, that brought you home
The head of Ragozine for Claudio's,
Th' offence pardons it selfe. Deere Isabell,
I haue a motion much imports your good,
Whereto if you'll a willing eare incline;
What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.
So bring vs to our Pallace, where wee'll show
What's yet behinde, that meete you all should know.

The Scene Vienna.

The names of all the Actors.

 Vincentio: the Duke.
 Angelo, the Deputie.
 Escalus, an ancient Lord.
 Claudio, a yong Gentleman.
 Lucio, a fantastique.
 2. Other like Gentlemen.
 Prouost.
 Thomas. 2. Friers.
 Peter.
 Elbow, a simple Constable.
 Froth, a foolish Gentleman.
 Clowne.
 Abhorson, an Executioner.
 Barnardine, a dissolute prisoner.
 Isabella, sister to Claudio.
 Mariana, betrothed to Angelo.
 Iuliet, beloued of Claudio.
 Francisca, a Nun.
 Mistris Ouer-don, a Bawd.

FINIS. MEASVRE, For Measure.


The Comedie of Errors

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Enter the Duke of Ephesus, with the Merchant of Siracusa, Iaylor,
and
other attendants.

  Marchant. Proceed Solinus to procure my fall,
And by the doome of death end woes and all

   Duke. Merchant of Siracusa, plead no more.
I am not partiall to infringe our Lawes;
The enmity and discord which of late
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your Duke,
To Merchants our well-dealing Countrimen,
Who wanting gilders to redeeme their liues,
Haue seal'd his rigorous statutes with their blouds,
Excludes all pitty from our threatning lookes:
For since the mortall and intestine iarres
Twixt thy seditious Countrimen and vs,
It hath in solemne Synodes beene decreed,
Both by the Siracusians and our selues,
To admit no trafficke to our aduerse townes:
Nay more, if any borne at Ephesus
Be seene at any Siracusian Marts and Fayres:
Againe, if any Siracusian borne
Come to the Bay of Ephesus, he dies:
His goods confiscate to the Dukes dispose,
Vnlesse a thousand markes be leuied
To quit the penalty, and to ransome him:
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount vnto a hundred Markes,
Therefore by Law thou art condemn'd to die

   Mer. Yet this my comfort, when your words are done,
My woes end likewise with the euening Sonne

   Duk. Well Siracusian; say in briefe the cause
Why thou departedst from thy natiue home?
And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus

   Mer. A heauier taske could not haue beene impos'd,
Then I to speake my griefes vnspeakeable:
Yet that the world may witnesse that my end
Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence,
Ile vtter what my sorrow giues me leaue.
In Syracusa was I borne, and wedde
Vnto a woman, happy but for me,
And by me; had not our hap beene bad:
With her I liu'd in ioy, our wealth increast
By prosperous voyages I often made
To Epidamium, till my factors death,
And he great care of goods at randone left,
Drew me from kinde embracements of my spouse;
From whom my absence was not sixe moneths olde,
Before her selfe (almost at fainting vnder
The pleasing punishment that women beare)
Had made prouision for her following me,
And soone, and safe, arriued where I was:
There had she not beene long, but she became
A ioyfull mother of two goodly sonnes:
And, which was strange, the one so like the other,
As could not be distinguish'd but by names.
That very howre, and in the selfe-same Inne,
A meane woman was deliuered
Of such a burthen Male, twins both alike:
Those, for their parents were exceeding poore,
I bought, and brought vp to attend my sonnes.
My wife, not meanely prowd of two such boyes,
Made daily motions for our home returne:
Vnwilling I agreed, alas, too soone wee came aboord.
A league from Epidamium had we saild
Before the alwaies winde-obeying deepe
Gaue any Tragicke Instance of our harme:
But longer did we not retaine much hope;
For what obscured light the heauens did grant,
Did but conuay vnto our fearefull mindes
A doubtfull warrant of immediate death,
Which though my selfe would gladly haue imbrac'd,
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,
Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And pitteous playnings of the prettie babes
That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to feare,
Forst me to seeke delayes for them and me,
And this it was: (for other meanes was none)
The Sailors sought for safety by our boate,
And left the ship then sinking ripe to vs.
My wife, more carefull for the latter borne,
Had fastned him vnto a small spare Mast,
Such as sea-faring men prouide for stormes:
To him one of the other twins was bound,
Whil'st I had beene like heedfull of the other.
The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I,
Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fixt,
Fastned our selues at eyther end the mast,
And floating straight, obedient to the streame,
Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sonne gazing vpon the earth,
Disperst those vapours that offended vs,
And by the benefit of his wished light
The seas waxt calme, and we discouered
Two shippes from farre, making amaine to vs:
Of Corinth that, of Epidarus this,
But ere they came, oh let me say no more,
Gather the sequell by that went before

   Duk. Nay forward old man, doe not breake off so,
For we may pitty, though not pardon thee

   Merch. Oh had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily tearm'd them mercilesse to vs:
For ere the ships could meet by twice fiue leagues,
We were encountred by a mighty rocke,
Which being violently borne vp,
Our helpefull ship was splitted in the midst;
So that in this vniust diuorce of vs,
Fortune had left to both of vs alike,
What to delight in, what to sorrow for,
Her part, poore soule, seeming as burdened
With lesser waight, but not with lesser woe,
Was carried with more speed before the winde,
And in our sight they three were taken vp
By Fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.
At length another ship had seiz'd on vs,
And knowing whom it was their hap to saue,
Gaue healthfull welcome to their ship-wrackt guests,
And would haue reft the Fishers of their prey,
Had not their backe beene very slow of saile;
And therefore homeward did they bend their course.
Thus haue you heard me seuer'd from my blisse,
That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,
To tell sad stories of my owne mishaps

   Duke. And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for,
Doe me the fauour to dilate at full,
What haue befalne of them and they till now

   Merch. My yongest boy, and yet my eldest care,
At eighteene yeeres became inquisitiue
After his brother; and importun'd me
That his attendant, so his case was like,
Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name,
Might beare him company in the quest of him:
Whom whil'st I laboured of a loue to see,
I hazarded the losse of whom I lou'd.
Fiue Sommers haue I spent in farthest Greece,
Roming cleane through the bounds of Asia,
And coasting homeward, came to Ephesus:
Hopelesse to finde, yet loth to leaue vnsought
Or that, or any place that harbours men:
But heere must end the story of my life,
And happy were I in my timelie death,
Could all my trauells warrant me they liue

   Duke. Haplesse Egeon whom the fates haue markt
To beare the extremitie of dire mishap:
Now trust me, were it not against our Lawes,
Against my Crowne, my oath, my dignity,
Which Princes would they may not disanull,
My soule should sue as aduocate for thee:
But though thou art adiudged to the death,
And passed sentence may not be recal'd
But to our honours great disparagement:
Yet will I fauour thee in what I can;
Therefore Marchant, Ile limit thee this day
To seeke thy helpe by beneficiall helpe,
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus,
Beg thou, or borrow, to make vp the summe,
And liue: if no, then thou art doom'd to die:
Iaylor, take him to thy custodie

   Iaylor. I will my Lord

   Merch. Hopelesse and helpelesse doth Egean wend,
But to procrastinate his liuelesse end.

Exeunt.

Enter Antipholis Erotes, a Marchant, and Dromio.

  Mer. Therefore giue out you are of Epidamium,
Lest that your goods too soone be confiscate:
This very day a Syracusian Marchant
Is apprehended for a riuall here,
And not being able to buy out his life,
According to the statute of the towne,
Dies ere the wearie sunne set in the West:
There is your monie that I had to keepe

   Ant. Goe beare it to the Centaure, where we host,
And stay there Dromio, till I come to thee;
Within this houre it will be dinner time,
Till that Ile view the manners of the towne,
Peruse the traders, gaze vpon the buildings,
And then returne and sleepe within mine Inne,
For with long trauaile I am stiffe and wearie.
Get thee away

   Dro. Many a man would take you at your word,
And goe indeede, hauing so good a meane.

Exit Dromio.

  Ant. A trustie villaine sir, that very oft,
When I am dull with care and melancholly,
Lightens my humour with his merry iests:
What will you walke with me about the towne,
And then goe to my Inne and dine with me?
  E.Mar. I am inuited sir to certaine Marchants,
Of whom I hope to make much benefit:
I craue your pardon, soone at fiue a clocke,
Please you, Ile meete with you vpon the Mart,
And afterward consort you till bed time:
My present businesse cals me from you now

   Ant. Farewell till then: I will goe loose my selfe,
And wander vp and downe to view the Citie

   E.Mar. Sir, I commend you to your owne content.

Exeunt.

  Ant. He that commends me to mine owne content,
Commends me to the thing I cannot get:
I to the world am like a drop of water,
That in the Ocean seekes another drop,
Who falling there to finde his fellow forth,
(Vnseene, inquisitiue) confounds himselfe.
So I, to finde a Mother and a Brother,
In quest of them (vnhappie a) loose my selfe.

Enter Dromio of Ephesus.

Here comes the almanacke of my true date:
What now? How chance thou art return'd so soone

   E.Dro. Return'd so soone, rather approacht too late:
The Capon burnes, the Pig fals from the spit;
The clocke hath strucken twelue vpon the bell:
My Mistris made it one vpon my cheeke:
She is so hot because the meate is colde:
The meate is colde, because you come not home:
You come not home, because you haue no stomacke:
You haue no stomacke, hauing broke your fast:
But we that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to day

   Ant. Stop in your winde sir, tell me this I pray?
Where haue you left the mony that I gaue you

   E.Dro. Oh sixe pence that I had a wensday last,
To pay the Sadler for my Mistris crupper:
The Sadler had it Sir, I kept it not

   Ant. I am not in a sportiue humor now:
Tell me, and dally not, where is the monie?
We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust
So great a charge from thine owne custodie

   E.Dro. I pray you iest sir as you sit at dinner:
I from my Mistris come to you in post:
If I returne I shall be post indeede.
For she will scoure your fault vpon my pate:
Me thinkes your maw, like mine, should be your cooke,
And strike you home without a messenger

   Ant. Come Dromio, come, these iests are out of season,
Reserue them till a merrier houre then this:
Where is the gold I gaue in charge to thee?
  E.Dro. To me sir? why you gaue no gold to me?
  Ant. Come on sir knaue, haue done your foolishnes,
And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge

   E.Dro. My charge was but to fetch you fro[m] the Mart
Home to your house, the Phoenix sir, to dinner;
My Mistris and her sister staies for you

   Ant. Now as I am a Christian answer me,
In what safe place you haue bestow'd my monie;
Or I shall breake that merrie sconce of yours
That stands on tricks, when I am vndispos'd:
Where is the thousand Markes thou hadst of me?
  E.Dro. I haue some markes of yours vpon my pate:
Some of my Mistris markes vpon my shoulders:
But not a thousand markes betweene you both.
If I should pay your worship those againe,
Perchance you will not beare them patiently

   Ant. Thy Mistris markes? what Mistris slaue hast thou?
  E.Dro. Your worships wife, my Mistris at the Phoenix;
She that doth fast till you come home to dinner:
And praies that you will hie you home to dinner

   Ant. What wilt thou flout me thus vnto my face
Being forbid? There take you that sir knaue

   E.Dro. What meane you sir, for God sake hold your hands:
Nay, and you will not sir, Ile take my heeles.

Exeunt. Dromio Ep.

  Ant. Vpon my life by some deuise or other,
The villaine is ore-wrought of all my monie.
They say this towne is full of cosenage:
As nimble Iuglers that deceiue the eie:
Darke working Sorcerers that change the minde:
Soule-killing Witches, that deforme the bodie:
Disguised Cheaters, prating Mountebankes;
And manie such like liberties of sinne:
If it proue so, I will be gone the sooner:
Ile to the Centaur to goe seeke this slaue,
I greatly feare my monie is not safe.

Enter.


Actus Secundus.

Enter Adriana, wife to Antipholis Sereptus, with Luciana her
Sister.

  Adr. Neither my husband nor the slaue return'd,
That in such haste I sent to seeke his Master?
Sure Luciana it is two a clocke

   Luc. Perhaps some Merchant hath inuited him,
And from the Mart he's somewhere gone to dinner:
Good Sister let vs dine, and neuer fret;
A man is Master of his libertie:
Time is their Master, and when they see time,
They'll goe or come; if so, be patient Sister

   Adr. Why should their libertie then ours be more?
  Luc. Because their businesse still lies out adore

   Adr. Looke when I serue him so, he takes it thus

   Luc. Oh, know he is the bridle of your will

   Adr. There's none but asses will be bridled so

   Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lasht with woe:
There's nothing situate vnder heauens eye,
But hath his bound in earth, in sea, in skie.
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowles
Are their males subiects, and at their controules:
Man more diuine, the Master of all these,
Lord of the wide world, and wilde watry seas,
Indued with intellectuall sence and soules,
Of more preheminence then fish and fowles,
Are masters to their females, and their Lords:
Then let your will attend on their accords

   Adri. This seruitude makes you to keepe vnwed

   Luci. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed

   Adr. But were you wedded, you wold bear some sway
  Luc. Ere I learne loue, Ile practise to obey

   Adr. How if your husband start some other where?
  Luc. Till he come home againe, I would forbeare

   Adr. Patience vnmou'd, no maruel though she pause,
They can be meeke, that haue no other cause:
A wretched soule bruis'd with aduersitie,
We bid be quiet when we heare it crie.
But were we burdned with like waight of paine,
As much, or more, we should our selues complaine:
So thou that hast no vnkinde mate to greeue thee,
With vrging helpelesse patience would releeue me;
But if thou liue to see like right bereft,
This foole-beg'd patience in thee will be left

   Luci. Well, I will marry one day but to trie:
Heere comes your man, now is your husband nie.

Enter Dromio Eph.

  Adr. Say, is your tardie master now at hand?
  E.Dro. Nay, hee's at too hands with mee, and that my
two eares can witnesse

   Adr. Say, didst thou speake with him? knowst thou
his minde?
  E.Dro. I, I, he told his minde vpon mine eare,
Beshrew his hand, I scarce could vnderstand it

   Luc. Spake hee so doubtfully, thou couldst not feele
his meaning

   E.Dro. Nay, hee strooke so plainly, I could too well
feele his blowes; and withall so doubtfully, that I could
scarce vnderstand them

   Adri. But say, I prethee, is he comming home?
It seemes he hath great care to please his wife

   E.Dro. Why Mistresse, sure my Master is horne mad

   Adri. Horne mad, thou villaine?
  E.Dro. I meane not Cuckold mad,
But sure he is starke mad:
When I desir'd him to come home to dinner,
He ask'd me for a hundred markes in gold:
'Tis dinner time, quoth I: my gold, quoth he:
Your meat doth burne, quoth I: my gold quoth he:
Will you come, quoth I: my gold, quoth he;
Where is the thousand markes I gaue thee villaine?
The Pigge quoth I, is burn'd: my gold, quoth he:
My mistresse, sir, quoth I: hang vp thy Mistresse:
I know not thy mistresse, out on thy mistresse

   Luci. Quoth who?
  E.Dr. Quoth my Master, I know quoth he, no house,
no wife, no mistresse: so that my arrant due vnto my
tongue, I thanke him, I bare home vpon my shoulders:
for in conclusion, he did beat me there

   Adri. Go back againe, thou slaue, & fetch him home

   Dro. Goe backe againe, and be new beaten home?
For Gods sake send some other messenger

   Adri. Backe slaue, or I will breake thy pate a-crosse

   Dro. And he will blesse y crosse with other beating:
Betweene you, I shall haue a holy head

   Adri. Hence prating pesant, fetch thy Master home

   Dro. Am I so round with you, as you with me,
That like a foot-ball you doe spurne me thus:
You spurne me hence, and he will spurne me hither,
If I last in this seruice, you must case me in leather

   Luci. Fie how impatience lowreth in your face

   Adri. His company must do his minions grace,
Whil'st I at home starue for a merrie looke:
Hath homelie age th' alluring beauty tooke
From my poore cheeke? then he hath wasted it.
Are my discourses dull? Barren my wit,
If voluble and sharpe discourse be mar'd,
Vnkindnesse blunts it more then marble hard.
Doe their gay vestments his affections baite?
That's not my fault, hee's master of my state.
What ruines are in me that can be found,
By him not ruin'd? Then is he the ground
Of my defeatures. My decayed faire,
A sunnie looke of his, would soone repaire.
But, too vnruly Deere, he breakes the pale,
And feedes from home; poore I am but his stale

   Luci. Selfe-harming Iealousie; fie beat it hence

   Ad. Vnfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispence:
I know his eye doth homage other-where,
Or else, what lets it but he would be here?
Sister, you know he promis'd me a chaine,
Would that alone, a loue he would detaine,
So he would keepe faire quarter with his bed:
I see the Iewell best enamaled
Will loose his beautie: yet the gold bides still
That others touch, and often touching will,
Where gold and no man that hath a name,
By falshood and corruption doth it shame:
Since that my beautie cannot please his eie,
Ile weepe (what's left away) and weeping die

   Luci. How manie fond fooles serue mad Ielousie?

Enter.

Enter Antipholis Errotis.

  Ant. The gold I gaue to Dromio is laid vp
Safe at the Centaur, and the heedfull slaue
Is wandred forth in care to seeke me out
By computation and mine hosts report.
I could not speake with Dromio, since at first
I sent him from the Mart? see here he comes.

Enter Dromio Siracusia.

How now sir, is your merrie humor alter'd?
As you loue stroakes, so iest with me againe:
You know no Centaur? you receiu'd no gold?
Your Mistresse sent to haue me home to dinner?
My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad,
That thus so madlie thou did didst answere me?
  S.Dro. What answer sir? when spake I such a word?
  E.Ant. Euen now, euen here, not halfe an howre since

   S.Dro. I did not see you since you sent me hence
Home to the Centaur with the gold you gaue me

   Ant. Villaine, thou didst denie the golds receit,
And toldst me of a Mistresse, and a dinner,
For which I hope thou feltst I was displeas'd

   S.Dro. I am glad to see you in this merrie vaine,
What meanes this iest, I pray you Master tell me?
  Ant. Yea, dost thou ieere & flowt me in the teeth?
Thinkst y I iest? hold, take thou that, & that.

Beats Dro.

  S.Dr. Hold sir, for Gods sake, now your iest is earnest,
Vpon what bargaine do you giue it me?
  Antiph. Because that I familiarlie sometimes
Doe vse you for my foole, and chat with you,
Your sawcinesse will iest vpon my loue,
And make a Common of my serious howres,
When the sunne shines, let foolish gnats make sport,
But creepe in crannies, when he hides his beames:
If you will iest with me, know my aspect,
And fashion your demeanor to my lookes,
Or I will beat this method in your sconce

   S.Dro. Sconce call you it? so you would leaue battering,
I had rather haue it a head, and you vse these blows
long, I must get a sconce for my head, and Insconce it
to, or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders, but I pray
sir, why am I beaten?
  Ant. Dost thou not know?
  S.Dro. Nothing sir, but that I am beaten

   Ant. Shall I tell you why?
  S.Dro. I sir, and wherefore; for they say, euery why
hath a wherefore

   Ant. Why first for flowting me, and then wherefore,
for vrging it the second time to me

   S.Dro. Was there euer anie man thus beaten out of
season, when in the why and the wherefore, is neither
rime nor reason. Well sir, I thanke you

   Ant. Thanke me sir, for what?
  S.Dro. Marry sir, for this something that you gaue me
for nothing

   Ant. Ile make you amends next, to giue you nothing
for something. But say sir, is it dinner time?
  S.Dro. No sir, I thinke the meat wants that I haue

   Ant. In good time sir: what's that?
  S.Dro. Basting

   Ant. Well sir, then 'twill be drie

   S.Dro. If it be sir, I pray you eat none of it

   Ant. Your reason?
  S.Dro. Lest it make you chollericke, and purchase me
another drie basting

   Ant. Well sir, learne to iest in good time, there's a
time for all things

   S.Dro. I durst haue denied that before you were so
chollericke

   Anti. By what rule sir?
  S.Dro. Marry sir, by a rule as plaine as the plaine bald
pate of Father time himselfe

   Ant. Let's heare it

   S.Dro. There's no time for a man to recouer his haire
that growes bald by nature

   Ant. May he not doe it by fine and recouerie?
  S.Dro. Yes, to pay a fine for a perewig, and recouer
the lost haire of another man

   Ant. Why, is Time such a niggard of haire, being (as
it is) so plentifull an excrement?
  S.Dro. Because it is a blessing that hee bestowes on
beasts, and what he hath scanted them in haire, hee hath
giuen them in wit

   Ant. Why, but theres manie a man hath more haire
then wit

   S.Dro. Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lose
his haire

   Ant. Why thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers
without wit

   S.Dro. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost; yet he looseth
it in a kinde of iollitie

   An. For what reason

   S.Dro. For two, and sound ones to

   An. Nay not sound I pray you

   S.Dro. Sure ones then

   An. Nay, not sure in a thing falsing

   S.Dro. Certaine ones then

   An. Name them

   S.Dro. The one to saue the money that he spends in
trying: the other, that at dinner they should not drop in
his porrage

   An. You would all this time haue prou'd, there is no
time for all things

   S.Dro. Marry and did sir: namely, in no time to recouer
haire lost by Nature

   An. But your reason was not substantiall, why there
is no time to recouer

   S.Dro. Thus I mend it: Time himselfe is bald, and
therefore to the worlds end, will haue bald followers

   An. I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion: but soft,
who wafts vs yonder.

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

  Adri. I, I, Antipholus, looke strange and frowne,
Some other Mistresse hath thy sweet aspects:
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
The time was once, when thou vn-vrg'd wouldst vow,
That neuer words were musicke to thine eare,
That neuer obiect pleasing in thine eye,
That neuer touch well welcome to thy hand,
That neuer meat sweet-sauour'd in thy taste,
Vnlesse I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or caru'd to thee.
How comes it now, my Husband, oh how comes it,
That thou art then estranged from thy selfe?
Thy selfe I call it, being strange to me:
That vndiuidable Incorporate
Am better then thy deere selfes better part.
Ah doe not teare away thy selfe from me;
For know my loue: as easie maist thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulfe,
And take vnmingled thence that drop againe
Without addition or diminishing,
As take from me thy selfe, and not me too.
How deerely would it touch thee to the quicke,
Shouldst thou but heare I were licencious?
And that this body consecrate to thee,
By Ruffian Lust should be contaminate?
Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurne at me,
And hurle the name of husband in my face,
And teare the stain'd skin of my Harlot brow,
And from my false hand cut the wedding ring,
And breake it with a deepe-diuorcing vow?
I know thou canst, and therefore see thou doe it.
I am possest with an adulterate blot,
My bloud is mingled with the crime of lust:
For if we two be one, and thou play false,
I doe digest the poison of thy flesh,
Being strumpeted by thy contagion:
Keepe then faire league and truce with thy true bed,
I liue distain'd, thou vndishonoured

   Antip. Plead you to me faire dame? I know you not:
In Ephesus I am but two houres old,
As strange vnto your towne, as to your talke,
Who euery word by all my wit being scan'd,
Wants wit in all, one word to vnderstand

   Luci. Fie brother, how the world is chang'd with you:
When were you wont to vse my sister thus?
She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner

   Ant. By Dromio?
  Drom. By me

   Adr. By thee, and this thou didst returne from him.
That he did buffet thee, and in his blowes,
Denied my house for his, me for his wife

   Ant. Did you conuerse sir with this gentlewoman:
What is the course and drift of your compact?
  S.Dro. I sir? I neuer saw her till this time

   Ant. Villaine thou liest, for euen her verie words,
Didst thou deliuer to me on the Mart

   S.Dro. I neuer spake with her in all my life

   Ant. How can she thus then call vs by our names?
Vnlesse it be by inspiration

   Adri. How ill agrees it with your grauitie,
To counterfeit thus grosely with your slaue,
Abetting him to thwart me in my moode;
Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt,
But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.
Come I will fasten on this sleeue of thine:
Thou art an Elme my husband, I a Vine:
Whose weaknesse married to thy stranger state,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate:
If ought possesse thee from me, it is drosse,
Vsurping Iuie, Brier, or idle Mosse,
Who all for want of pruning, with intrusion,
Infect thy sap, and liue on thy confusion

   Ant. To mee shee speakes, shee moues mee for her
theame;
What, was I married to her in my dreame?
Or sleepe I now, and thinke I heare all this?
What error driues our eies and eares amisse?
Vntill I know this sure vncertaintie,
Ile entertaine the free'd fallacie

   Luc. Dromio, goe bid the seruants spred for dinner

   S.Dro. Oh for my beads, I crosse me for a sinner.
This is the Fairie land, oh spight of spights,
We talke with Goblins, Owles and Sprights;
If we obay them not, this will insue:
They'll sucke our breath, or pinch vs blacke and blew

   Luc. Why prat'st thou to thy selfe, and answer'st not?
Dromio, thou Dromio, thou snaile, thou slug, thou sot

   S.Dro. I am transformed Master, am I not?
  Ant. I thinke thou art in minde, and so am I

   S.Dro. Nay Master, both in minde, and in my shape

   Ant. Thou hast thine owne forme

   S.Dro. No, I am an Ape

   Luc. If thou art chang'd to ought, 'tis to an Asse

   S.Dro. 'Tis true she rides me, and I long for grasse.
'Tis so, I am an Asse, else it could neuer be,
But I should know her as well as she knowes me

   Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a foole,
To put the finger in the eie and weepe;
Whil'st man and Master laughes my woes to scorne:
Come sir to dinner, Dromio keepe the gate:
Husband Ile dine aboue with you to day,
And shriue you of a thousand idle prankes:
Sirra, if any aske you for your Master,
Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter:
Come sister, Dromio play the Porter well

   Ant. Am I in earth, in heauen, or in hell?
Sleeping or waking, mad or well aduisde:
Knowne vnto these, and to my selfe disguisde:
Ile say as they say, and perseuer so:
And in this mist at all aduentures go

   S.Dro. Master, shall I be Porter at the gate?
  Adr. I, and let none enter, least I breake your pate

   Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine to late.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, his man Dromio, Angelo the
Goldsmith, and
Balthaser the Merchant.

  E.Anti. Good signior Angelo you must excuse vs all,
My wife is shrewish when I keepe not howres;
Say that I lingerd with you at your shop
To see the making of her Carkanet,
And that to morrow you will bring it home.
But here's a villaine that would face me downe
He met me on the Mart, and that I beat him,
And charg'd him with a thousand markes in gold,
And that I did denie my wife and house;
Thou drunkard thou, what didst thou meane by this?
  E.Dro. Say what you wil sir, but I know what I know,
That you beat me at the Mart I haue your hand to show;
If y skin were parchment, & y blows you gaue were ink,
Your owne hand-writing would tell you what I thinke

   E.Ant. I thinke thou art an asse

   E.Dro. Marry so it doth appeare
By the wrongs I suffer, and the blowes I beare,
I should kicke being kickt, and being at that passe,
You would keepe from my heeles, and beware of an asse

   E.An. Y'are sad signior Balthazar, pray God our cheer
May answer my good will, and your good welcom here

   Bal. I hold your dainties cheap sir, & your welcom deer

   E.An. Oh signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish,
A table full of welcome, makes scarce one dainty dish

   Bal. Good meat sir is co[m]mon that euery churle affords

   Anti. And welcome more common, for thats nothing
but words

   Bal. Small cheere and great welcome, makes a merrie
feast

   Anti. I, to a niggardly Host, and more sparing guest:
But though my cates be meane, take them in good part,
Better cheere may you haue, but not with better hart.
But soft, my doore is lockt; goe bid them let vs in

   E.Dro. Maud, Briget, Marian, Cisley, Gillian, Ginn

   S.Dro. Mome, Malthorse, Capon, Coxcombe, Idiot,
Patch,
Either get thee from the dore, or sit downe at the hatch:
Dost thou coniure for wenches, that y calst for such store,
When one is one too many, goe get thee from the dore

   E.Dro. What patch is made our Porter? my Master
stayes in the street

   S.Dro. Let him walke from whence he came, lest hee
catch cold on's feet

   E.Ant. Who talks within there? hoa, open the dore

   S.Dro. Right sir, Ile tell you when, and you'll tell
me wherefore

   Ant. Wherefore? for my dinner: I haue not din'd to
day

   S.Dro. Nor to day here you must not come againe
when you may

   Anti. What art thou that keep'st mee out from the
howse I owe?
  S.Dro. The Porter for this time Sir, and my name is
Dromio

   E.Dro. O villaine, thou hast stolne both mine office
and my name,
The one nere got me credit, the other mickle blame:
If thou hadst beene Dromio to day in my place,
Thou wouldst haue chang'd thy face for a name, or thy
name for an asse.

Enter Luce.

  Luce. What a coile is there Dromio? who are those
at the gate?
  E.Dro. Let my Master in Luce

   Luce. Faith no, hee comes too late, and so tell your
Master

   E.Dro. O Lord I must laugh, haue at you with a Prouerbe,
Shall I set in my staffe

   Luce. Haue at you with another, that's when? can
you tell?
  S.Dro. If thy name be called Luce, Luce thou hast answer'd
him well

   Anti. Doe you heare you minion, you'll let vs in I
hope?
  Luce. I thought to haue askt you

   S.Dro. And you said no

   E.Dro. So come helpe, well strooke, there was blow
for blow

   Anti. Thou baggage let me in

   Luce. Can you tell for whose sake?
  E.Drom. Master, knocke the doore hard

   Luce. Let him knocke till it ake

   Anti. You'll crie for this minion, if I beat the doore
downe

   Luce. What needs all that, and a paire of stocks in the
towne?

Enter Adriana.

  Adr. Who is that at the doore y keeps all this noise?
  S.Dro. By my troth your towne is troubled with vnruly
boies

   Anti. Are you there Wife? you might haue come
before

   Adri. Your wife sir knaue? go get you from the dore

   E.Dro. If you went in paine Master, this knaue wold
goe sore

   Angelo. Heere is neither cheere sir, nor welcome, we
would faine haue either

   Baltz. In debating which was best, wee shall part
with neither

   E.Dro. They stand at the doore, Master, bid them
welcome hither

   Anti. There is something in the winde, that we cannot
get in

   E.Dro. You would say so Master, if your garments
were thin.
Your cake here is warme within: you stand here in the
cold.
It would make a man mad as a Bucke to be so bought
and sold

   Ant. Go fetch me something, Ile break ope the gate

   S.Dro. Breake any breaking here, and Ile breake your
knaues pate

   E.Dro. A man may breake a word with your sir, and
words are but winde:
I and breake it in your face, so he break it not behinde

   S.Dro. It seemes thou want'st breaking, out vpon thee
hinde

   E.Dro. Here's too much out vpon thee, I pray thee let
me in

   S.Dro. I, when fowles haue no feathers, and fish haue
no fin

   Ant. Well, Ile breake in: go borrow me a crow

   E.Dro. A crow without feather, Master meane you so;
For a fish without a finne, ther's a fowle without a fether,
If a crow help vs in sirra, wee'll plucke a crow together

   Ant. Go, get thee gon, fetch me an iron Crow

   Balth. Haue patience sir, oh let it not be so,
Heerein you warre against your reputation,
And draw within the compasse of suspect
Th' vnuiolated honor of your wife.
Once this your long experience of your wisedome,
Her sober vertue, yeares, and modestie,
Plead on your part some cause to you vnknowne;
And doubt not sir, but she will well excuse
Why at this time the dores are made against you.
Be rul'd by me, depart in patience,
And let vs to the Tyger all to dinner,
And about euening come your selfe alone,
To know the reason of this strange restraint:
If by strong hand you offer to breake in
Now in the stirring passage of the day,
A vulgar comment will be made of it;
And that supposed by the common rowt
Against your yet vngalled estimation,
That may with foule intrusion enter in,
And dwell vpon your graue when you are dead;
For slander liues vpon succession:
For euer hows'd, where it gets possession

   Anti. You haue preuail'd, I will depart in quiet,
And in despight of mirth meane to be merrie:
I know a wench of excellent discourse,
Prettie and wittie; wilde, and yet too gentle;
There will we dine: this woman that I meane
My wife (but I protest without desert)
Hath oftentimes vpbraided me withall:
To her will we to dinner, get you home
And fetch the chaine, by this I know 'tis made,
Bring it I pray you to the Porpentine,
For there's the house: That chaine will I bestow
(Be it for nothing but to spight my wife)
Vpon mine hostesse there, good sir make haste:
Since mine owne doores refuse to entertaine me,
Ile knocke else-where, to see if they'll disdaine me

   Ang. Ile meet you at that place some houre hence

   Anti. Do so, this iest shall cost me some expence.

Exeunt.

Enter Iuliana, with Antipholus of Siracusia.

  Iulia. And may it be that you haue quite forgot
A husbands office? shall Antipholus
Euen in the spring of Loue, thy Loue-springs rot?
Shall loue in buildings grow so ruinate?
If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Then for her wealths-sake vse her with more kindnesse:
Or if you like else-where doe it by stealth,
Muffle your false loue with some shew of blindnesse:
Let not my sister read it in your eye:
Be not thy tongue thy owne shames Orator:
Looke sweet, speake faire, become disloyaltie:
Apparell vice like vertues harbenger:
Beare a faire presence, though your heart be tainted,
Teach sinne the carriage of a holy Saint,
Be secret false: what need she be acquainted?
What simple thiefe brags of his owne attaine?
'Tis double wrong to truant with your bed,
And let her read it in thy lookes at boord:
Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed,
Ill deeds is doubled with an euill word:
Alas poore women, make vs not beleeue
(Being compact of credit) that you loue vs,
Though others haue the arme, shew vs the sleeue:
We in your motion turne, and you may moue vs.
Then gentle brother get you in againe;
Comfort my sister, cheere her, call her wise;
'Tis holy sport to be a little vaine,
When the sweet breath of flatterie conquers strife

   S.Anti. Sweete Mistris, what your name is else I
know not;
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine:
Lesse in your knowledge, and your grace you show not,
Then our earths wonder, more then earth diuine.
Teach me deere creature how to thinke and speake:
Lay open to my earthie grosse conceit:
Smothred in errors, feeble, shallow, weake,
The foulded meaning of your words deceit:
Against my soules pure truth, why labour you,
To make it wander in an vnknowne field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transforme me then, and to your powre Ile yeeld.
But if that I am I, then well I know,
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage doe I owe:
Farre more, farre more, to you doe I decline:
Oh traine me not sweet Mermaide with thy note,
To drowne me in thy sister floud of teares:
Sing Siren for thy selfe, and I will dote:
Spread ore the siluer waues thy golden haires;
And as a bud Ile take thee, and there lie:
And in that glorious supposition thinke,
He gaines by death, that hath such meanes to die:
Let Loue, being light, be drowned if she sinke

   Luc. What are you mad, that you doe reason so?
  Ant. Not mad, but mated, how I doe not know

   Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your eie

   Ant. For gazing on your beames faire sun being by

   Luc. Gaze when you should, and that will cleere
your sight

   Ant. As good to winke sweet loue, as looke on night

   Luc. Why call you me loue? Call my sister so

   Ant. Thy sisters sister

   Luc. That's my sister

   Ant. No: it is thy selfe, mine owne selfes better part:
Mine eies cleere eie, my deere hearts deerer heart;
My foode, my fortune, and my sweet hopes aime;
My sole earths heauen, and my heauens claime

   Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be

   Ant. Call thy selfe sister sweet, for I am thee:
Thee will I loue, and with thee lead my life;
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife:
Giue me thy hand

   Luc. Oh soft sir, hold you still:
Ile fetch my sister to get her good will.

Enter.

Enter Dromio, Siracusia.

  Ant. Why how now Dromio, where run'st thou so
fast?
  S.Dro. Doe you know me sir? Am I Dromio? Am I
your man? Am I my selfe?
  Ant. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art
thy selfe

   Dro. I am an asse, I am a womans man, and besides
my selfe

   Ant. What womans man? and how besides thy
selfe?
  Dro. Marrie sir, besides my selfe, I am due to a woman:
One that claimes me, one that haunts me, one that will
haue me

   Anti. What claime laies she to thee?
  Dro. Marry sir, such claime as you would lay to your
horse, and she would haue me as a beast, not that I beeing
a beast she would haue me, but that she being a verie
beastly creature layes claime to me

   Anti. What is she?
  Dro. A very reuerent body: I such a one, as a man
may not speake of, without he say sir reuerence, I haue
but leane lucke in the match, and yet is she a wondrous
fat marriage

   Anti. How dost thou meane a fat marriage?
  Dro. Marry sir, she's the Kitchin wench, & al grease,
and I know not what vse to put her too, but to make a
Lampe of her, and run from her by her owne light. I
warrant, her ragges and the Tallow in them, will burne
a Poland Winter: If she liues till doomesday, she'l burne
a weeke longer then the whole World

   Anti. What complexion is she of?
  Dro. Swart like my shoo, but her face nothing like
so cleane kept: for why? she sweats a man may goe ouer-shooes
in the grime of it

   Anti. That's a fault that water will mend

   Dro. No sir, 'tis in graine, Noahs flood could not
do it

   Anti. What's her name?
  Dro. Nell Sir: but her name is three quarters, that's
an Ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip
to hip

   Anti. Then she beares some bredth?
  Dro. No longer from head to foot, then from hippe
to hippe: she is sphericall, like a globe: I could find out
Countries in her

   Anti. In what part of her body stands Ireland?
  Dro. Marry sir in her buttockes, I found it out by
the bogges

   Ant. Where Scotland?
  Dro. I found it by the barrennesse, hard in the palme
of the hand

   Ant. Where France?
  Dro. In her forhead, arm'd and reuerted, making
warre against her heire

   Ant. Where England?
  Dro. I look'd for the chalkle Cliffes, but I could find
no whitenesse in them. But I guesse, it stood in her chin
by the salt rheume that ranne betweene France, and it

   Ant. Where Spaine?
  Dro. Faith I saw it not: but I felt it hot in her breth

   Ant. Where America, the Indies?
  Dro. Oh sir, vpon her nose, all ore embellished with
Rubies, Carbuncles, Saphires, declining their rich Aspect
to the hot breath of Spaine, who sent whole Armadoes
of Carrects to be ballast at her nose

   Anti. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands?
  Dro. Oh sir, I did not looke so low. To conclude,
this drudge or Diuiner layd claime to mee, call'd mee
Dromio, swore I was assur'd to her, told me what priuie
markes I had about mee, as the marke of my shoulder,
the Mole in my necke, the great Wart on my left arme,
that I amaz'd ranne from her as a witch. And I thinke, if
my brest had not beene made of faith, and my heart of
steele, she had transform'd me to a Curtull dog, & made
me turne i'th wheele

   Anti. Go hie thee presently, post to the rode,
And if the winde blow any way from shore,
I will not harbour in this Towne to night.
If any Barke put forth, come to the Mart,
Where I will walke till thou returne to me:
If euerie one knowes vs, and we know none,
'Tis time I thinke to trudge, packe, and be gone

   Dro. As from a Beare a man would run for life,
So flie I from her that would be my wife.

Exit

  Anti. There's none but Witches do inhabite heere,
And therefore 'tis hie time that I were hence:
She that doth call me husband, euen my soule
Doth for a wife abhorre. But her faire sister
Possest with such a gentle soueraigne grace,
Of such inchanting presence and discourse,
Hath almost made me Traitor to my selfe:
But least my selfe be guilty to selfe wrong,
Ile stop mine eares against the Mermaids song.

Enter Angelo with the Chaine.

  Ang. Mr Antipholus

   Anti. I that's my name

   Ang. I know it well sir, loe here's the chaine,
I thought to haue tane you at the Porpentine,
The chaine vnfinish'd made me stay thus long

   Anti. What is your will that I shal do with this?
  Ang. What please your selfe sir: I haue made it for
you

   Anti. Made it for me sir, I bespoke it not

   Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twentie times you
haue:
Go home with it, and please your Wife withall,
And soone at supper time Ile visit you,
And then receiue my money for the chaine

   Anti. I pray you sir receiue the money now.
For feare you ne're see chaine, nor mony more

   Ang. You are a merry man sir, fare you well.

Enter.

  Ant. What I should thinke of this, I cannot tell:
But this I thinke, there's no man is so vaine,
That would refuse so faire an offer'd Chaine.
I see a man heere needs not liue by shifts,
When in the streets he meetes such Golden gifts:
Ile to the Mart, and there for Dromio stay,
If any ship put out, then straight away.

Enter.


Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.

Enter a Merchant, Goldsmith, and an Officer.

  Mar. You know since Pentecost the sum is due,
And since I haue not much importun'd you,
Nor now I had not, but that I am bound
To Persia, and want Gilders for my voyage:
Therefore make present satisfaction,
Or Ile attach you by this Officer

   Gold. Euen iust the sum that I do owe to you,
Is growing to me by Antipholus,
And in the instant that I met with you,
He had of me a Chaine, at fiue a clocke
I shall receiue the money for the same:
Pleaseth you walke with me downe to his house,
I will discharge my bond, and thanke you too.

Enter Antipholus Ephes.Dromio from the Courtizans.

  Offi. That labour may you saue: See where he comes

   Ant. While I go to the Goldsmiths house, go thou
And buy a ropes end, that will I bestow
Among my wife, and their confederates,
For locking me out of my doores by day:
But soft I see the Goldsmith; get thee gone,
Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me

   Dro. I buy a thousand pound a yeare, I buy a rope.

Exit Dromio

  Eph.Ant. A man is well holpe vp that trusts to you,
I promised your presence, and the Chaine,
But neither Chaine nor Goldsmith came to me:
Belike you thought our loue would last too long
If it were chain'd together: and therefore came not

   Gold. Sauing your merrie humor: here's the note
How much your Chaine weighs to the vtmost charect,
The finenesse of the Gold, and chargefull fashion,
Which doth amount to three odde Duckets more
Then I stand debted to this Gentleman,
I pray you see him presently discharg'd,
For he is bound to Sea, and stayes but for it

   Anti. I am not furnish'd with the present monie:
Besides I haue some businesse in the towne,
Good Signior take the stranger to my house,
And with you take the Chaine, and bid my wife
Disburse the summe, on the receit thereof,
Perchance I will be there as soone as you

   Gold. Then you will bring the Chaine to her your
selfe

   Anti. No beare it with you, least I come not time enough

   Gold. Well sir, I will? Haue you the Chaine about
you?
  Ant. And if I haue not sir, I hope you haue:
Or else you may returne without your money

   Gold. Nay come I pray you sir, giue me the Chaine:
Both winde and tide stayes for this Gentleman,
And I too blame haue held him heere too long

   Anti. Good Lord, you vse this dalliance to excuse
Your breach of promise to the Porpentine,
I should haue chid you for not bringing it,
But like a shrew you first begin to brawle

   Mar. The houre steales on, I pray you sir dispatch

   Gold. You heare how he importunes me, the Chaine

   Ant. Why giue it to my wife, and fetch your mony

   Gold. Come, come, you know I gaue it you euen now.
Either send the Chaine, or send me by some token

   Ant. Fie, now you run this humor out of breath,
Come where's the Chaine, I pray you let me see it

   Mar. My businesse cannot brooke this dalliance,
Good sir say, whe'r you'l answer me, or no:
If not, Ile leaue him to the Officer

   Ant. I answer you? What should I answer you

   Gold. The monie that you owe me for the Chaine

   Ant. I owe you none, till I receiue the Chaine

   Gold. You know I gaue it you halfe an houre since

   Ant. You gaue me none, you wrong mee much to
say so

   Gold. You wrong me more sir in denying it.
Consider how it stands vpon my credit

   Mar. Well Officer, arrest him at my suite

   Offi. I do, and charge you in the Dukes name to obey
me

   Gold. This touches me in reputation.
Either consent to pay this sum for me,
Or I attach you by this Officer

   Ant. Consent to pay thee that I neuer had:
Arrest me foolish fellow if thou dar'st

   Gold. Heere is thy fee, arrest him Officer.
I would not spare my brother in this case,
If he should scorne me so apparantly

   Offic. I do arrest you sir, you heare the suite

   Ant. I do obey thee, till I giue thee baile.
But sirrah, you shall buy this sport as deere,
As all the mettall in your shop will answer

   Gold. Sir, sir, I shall haue Law in Ephesus,
To your notorious shame, I doubt it not.

Enter Dromio Sira. from the Bay.

  Dro. Master, there's a Barke of Epidamium,
That staies but till her Owner comes aboord,
And then sir she beares away. Our fraughtage sir,
I haue conuei'd aboord, and I haue bought
The Oyle, the Balsamum, and Aqua-vitae.
The ship is in her trim, the merrie winde
Blowes faire from land: they stay for nought at all,
But for their Owner, Master, and your selfe

   An. How now? a Madman? Why thou peeuish sheep
What ship of Epidamium staies for me

   S.Dro. A ship you sent me too, to hier waftage

   Ant. Thou drunken slaue, I sent thee for a rope,
And told thee to what purpose, and what end

   S.Dro. You sent me for a ropes end as soone,
You sent me to the Bay sir, for a Barke

   Ant. I will debate this matter at more leisure
And teach your eares to list me with more heede:
To Adriana Villaine hie thee straight:
Giue her this key, and tell her in the Deske
That's couer'd o're with Turkish Tapistrie,
There is a purse of Duckets, let her send it:
Tell her, I am arrested in the streete,
And that shall baile me: hie thee slaue, be gone,
On Officer to prison, till it come.

Exeunt.

  S.Dromio. To Adriana, that is where we din'd,
Where Dowsabell did claime me for her husband,
She is too bigge I hope for me to compasse,
Thither I must, although against my will:
For seruants must their Masters mindes fulfill.

Exit

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

  Adr. Ah Luciana, did he tempt thee so?
Might'st thou perceiue austeerely in his eie,
That he did plead in earnest, yea or no:
Look'd he or red or pale, or sad or merrily?
What obseruation mad'st thou in this case?
Oh, his hearts Meteors tilting in his face

   Luc. First he deni'de you had in him no right

   Adr. He meant he did me none: the more my spight
  Luc. Then swore he that he was a stranger heere

   Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworne hee
were

   Luc. Then pleaded I for you

   Adr. And what said he?
  Luc. That loue I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me

   Adr. With what perswasion did he tempt thy loue?
  Luc. With words, that in an honest suit might moue.
First, he did praise my beautie, then my speech

   Adr. Did'st speake him faire?
  Luc. Haue patience I beseech

   Adr. I cannot, nor I will not hold me still.
My tongue, though not my heart, shall haue his will.
He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere,
Ill-fac'd, worse bodied, shapelesse euery where:
Vicious, vngentle, foolish, blunt, vnkinde,
Stigmaticall in making worse in minde

   Luc. Who would be iealous then of such a one?
No euill lost is wail'd, when it is gone

   Adr. Ah but I thinke him better then I say:
And yet would herein others eies were worse:
Farre from her nest the Lapwing cries away;
My heart praies for him, though my tongue doe curse.

Enter S.Dromio.

  Dro. Here goe: the deske, the purse, sweet now make
haste

   Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath?
  S.Dro. By running fast

   Adr. Where is thy Master Dromio? Is he well?
  S.Dro. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse then hell:
A diuell in an euerlasting garment hath him;
On whose hard heart is button'd vp with steele:
A Feind, a Fairie, pittilesse and ruffe:
A Wolfe, nay worse, a fellow all in buffe:
A back friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that counterma[n]ds
The passages of allies, creekes, and narrow lands:
A hound that runs Counter, and yet draws drifoot well,
One that before the Iudgme[n]t carries poore soules to hel

   Adr. Why man, what is the matter?
  S.Dro. I doe not know the matter, hee is rested on
the case

   Adr. What is he arrested? tell me at whose suite?
  S.Dro. I know not at whose suite he is arested well;
but is in a suite of buffe which rested him, that can I tell,
will you send him Mistris redemption, the monie in
his deske

   Adr. Go fetch it Sister: this I wonder at.

Exit Luciana.

Thus he vnknowne to me should be in debt:
Tell me, was he arested on a band?
  S.Dro. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing:
A chaine, a chaine, doe you not here it ring

   Adria. What, the chaine?
  S.Dro. No, no, the bell, 'tis time that I were gone:
It was two ere I left him, and now the clocke strikes one

   Adr. The houres come backe, that did I neuer here

   S.Dro. Oh yes, if any houre meete a Serieant, a turnes
backe for verie feare

   Adri. As if time were in debt: how fondly do'st thou
reason?
  S.Dro. Time is a verie bankerout, and owes more then
he's worth to season.
Nay, he's a theefe too: haue you not heard men say,
That time comes stealing on by night and day?
If I be in debt and theft, and a Serieant in the way,
Hath he not reason to turne backe an houre in a day?

Enter Luciana.

  Adr. Go Dromio, there's the monie, beare it straight,
And bring thy Master home imediately.
Come sister, I am prest downe with conceit:
Conceit, my comfort and my iniurie.

Enter.

Enter Antipholus Siracusia.

There's not a man I meete but doth salute me
As if I were their well acquainted friend,
And euerie one doth call me by my name:
Some tender monie to me, some inuite me;
Some other giue me thankes for kindnesses;
Some offer me Commodities to buy.
Euen now a tailor cal'd me in his shop,
And show'd me Silkes that he had bought for me,
And therewithall tooke measure of my body.
Sure these are but imaginarie wiles,
And lapland Sorcerers inhabite here.

Enter Dromio. Sir.

  S.Dro. Master, here's the gold you sent me for: what
haue you got the picture of old Adam new apparel'd?
  Ant. What gold is this? What Adam do'st thou
meane?
  S.Dro. Not that Adam that kept the Paradise: but
that Adam that keepes the prison; hee that goes in the
calues-skin, that was kil'd for the Prodigall: hee that
came behinde you sir, like an euill angel, and bid you forsake
your libertie

   Ant. I vnderstand thee not

   S.Dro. No? why 'tis a plaine case: he that went like
a Base-Viole in a case of leather; the man sir, that when
gentlemen are tired giues them a sob, and rests them:
he sir, that takes pittie on decaied men, and giues them
suites of durance: he that sets vp his rest to doe more exploits
with his Mace, then a Moris Pike

   Ant. What thou mean'st an officer?
  S.Dro. I sir, the Serieant of the Band: he that brings
any man to answer it that breakes his Band: one that
thinkes a man alwaies going to bed, and saies, God giue
you good rest

   Ant. Well sir, there rest in your foolerie:
Is there any ships puts forth to night? may we be gone?
  S.Dro. Why sir, I brought you word an houre since,
that the Barke Expedition put forth to night, and then
were you hindred by the Serieant to tarry for the Hoy
Delay: Here are the angels that you sent for to deliuer
you

   Ant. The fellow is distract, and so am I,
And here we wander in illusions:
Some blessed power deliuer vs from hence.

Enter a Curtizan.

  Cur. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus:
I see sir you haue found the Gold-smith now:
Is that the chaine you promis'd me to day

   Ant. Sathan auoide, I charge thee tempt me not

   S.Dro. Master, is this Mistris Sathan?
  Ant. It is the diuell

   S.Dro. Nay, she is worse, she is the diuels dam:
And here she comes in the habit of a light wench, and
thereof comes, that the wenches say God dam me, That's
as much to say, God make me a light wench: It is written,
they appeare to men like angels of light, light is an
effect of fire, and fire will burne: ergo, light wenches will
burne, come not neere her

   Cur. Your man and you are maruailous merrie sir.
Will you goe with me, wee'll mend our dinner here?
  S.Dro. Master, if do expect spoon-meate, or bespeake
a long spoone

   Ant. Why Dromio?
  S.Dro. Marrie he must haue a long spoone that must
eate with the diuell

   Ant. Auoid then fiend, what tel'st thou me of supping?
Thou art, as you are all a sorceresse:
I coniure thee to leaue me, and be gon

   Cur. Giue me the ring of mine you had at dinner,
Or for my Diamond the Chaine you promis'd,
And Ile be gone sir, and not trouble you

   S.Dro. Some diuels aske but the parings of ones naile,
a rush, a haire, a drop of blood, a pin, a nut, a cherriestone:
but she more couetous, wold haue a chaine: Master
be wise, and if you giue it her, the diuell will shake
her Chaine, and fright vs with it

   Cur. I pray you sir my Ring, or else the Chaine,
I hope you do not meane to cheate me so?
  Ant. Auant thou witch: Come Dromio let vs go

   S.Dro. Flie pride saies the Pea-cocke, Mistris that
you know.

Enter.

  Cur. Now out of doubt Antipholus is mad,
Else would he neuer so demeane himselfe,
A Ring he hath of mine worth fortie Duckets,
And for the same he promis'd me a Chaine,
Both one and other he denies me now:
The reason that I gather he is mad,
Besides this present instance of his rage,
Is a mad tale he told to day at dinner,
Of his owne doores being shut against his entrance.
Belike his wife acquainted with his fits,
On purpose shut the doores against his way:
My way is now to hie home to his house,
And tell his wife, that being Lunaticke,
He rush'd into my house, and tooke perforce
My Ring away. This course I fittest choose,
For fortie Duckets is too much to loose.

Enter Antipholus Ephes. with a Iailor.

  An. Feare me not man, I will not breake away,
Ile giue thee ere I leaue thee so much money
To warrant thee as I am rested for.
My wife is in a wayward moode to day,
And will not lightly trust the Messenger,
That I should be attach'd in Ephesus,
I tell you 'twill sound harshly in her eares.

Enter Dromio Eph. with a ropes end.

Heere comes my Man, I thinke he brings the monie.
How now sir? Haue you that I sent you for?
  E.Dro. Here's that I warrant you will pay them all

   Anti. But where's the Money?
  E.Dro. Why sir, I gaue the Monie for the Rope

   Ant. Fiue hundred Duckets villaine for a rope?
  E.Dro. Ile serue you sir fiue hundred at the rate

   Ant. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home?
  E.Dro. To a ropes end sir, and to that end am I return'd

   Ant. And to that end sir, I will welcome you

   Offi. Good sir be patient

   E.Dro. Nay 'tis for me to be patient, I am in aduersitie

   Offi. Good now hold thy tongue

   E.Dro. Nay, rather perswade him to hold his hands

   Anti. Thou whoreson senselesse Villaine

   E.Dro. I would I were senselesse sir, that I might
not feele your blowes

   Anti. Thou art sensible in nothing but blowes, and
so is an Asse

   E.Dro. I am an Asse indeede, you may prooue it by
my long eares. I haue serued him from the houre of my
Natiuitie to this instant, and haue nothing at his hands
for my seruice but blowes. When I am cold, he heates
me with beating: when I am warme, he cooles me with
beating: I am wak'd with it when I sleepe, rais'd with
it when I sit, driuen out of doores with it when I goe
from home, welcom'd home with it when I returne, nay
I beare it on my shoulders, as a begger woont her brat:
and I thinke when he hath lam'd me, I shall begge with
it from doore to doore.

Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtizan, and a Schoolemaster, call'd
Pinch.

  Ant. Come goe along, my wife is comming yonder

   E.Dro. Mistris respice finem, respect your end, or rather
the prophesie like the Parrat, beware the ropes end

   Anti. Wilt thou still talke?

Beats Dro.

  Curt. How say you now? Is not your husband mad?
  Adri. His inciuility confirmes no lesse:
Good Doctor Pinch, you are a Coniurer,
Establish him in his true sence againe,
And I will please you what you will demand

   Luc. Alas how fiery, and how sharpe he lookes

   Cur. Marke, how he trembles in his extasie

   Pinch. Giue me your hand, and let mee feele your
pulse

   Ant. There is my hand, and let it feele your eare

   Pinch. I charge thee Sathan, hous'd within this man,
To yeeld possession to my holie praiers,
And to thy state of darknesse hie thee straight,
I coniure thee by all the Saints in heauen

   Anti. Peace doting wizard, peace; I am not mad

   Adr. Oh that thou wer't not, poore distressed soule

   Anti. You Minion you, are these your Customers?
Did this Companion with the saffron face
Reuell and feast it at my house to day,
Whil'st vpon me the guiltie doores were shut,
And I denied to enter in my house

   Adr. O husband, God doth know you din'd at home
Where would you had remain'd vntill this time,
Free from these slanders, and this open shame

   Anti. Din'd at home? Thou Villaine, what sayest
thou?
  Dro. Sir sooth to say, you did not dine at home

   Ant. Were not my doores lockt vp, and I shut out?
  Dro. Perdie, your doores were lockt, and you shut
out

   Anti. And did not she her selfe reuile me there?
  Dro. Sans Fable, she her selfe reuil'd you there

   Anti. Did not her Kitchen maide raile, taunt, and
scorne me?
  Dro. Certis she did, the kitchin vestall scorn'd you

   Ant. And did not I in rage depart from thence?
  Dro. In veritie you did, my bones beares witnesse,
That since haue felt the vigor of his rage

   Adr. Is't good to sooth him in these contraries?
  Pinch. It is no shame, the fellow finds his vaine,
And yeelding to him, humors well his frensie

   Ant. Thou hast subborn'd the Goldsmith to arrest
mee

   Adr. Alas, I sent you Monie to redeeme you,
By Dromio heere, who came in hast for it

   Dro. Monie by me? Heart and good will you might,
But surely Master not a ragge of Monie

   Ant. Wentst not thou to her for a purse of Duckets

   Adri. He came to me, and I deliuer'd it

   Luci. And I am witnesse with her that she did:
  Dro. God and the Rope-maker beare me witnesse,
That I was sent for nothing but a rope

   Pinch. Mistris, both Man and Master is possest,
I know it by their pale and deadly lookes,
They must be bound and laide in some darke roome

   Ant. Say wherefore didst thou locke me forth to day,
And why dost thou denie the bagge of gold?
  Adr. I did not gentle husband locke thee forth

   Dro. And gentle Mr I receiu'd no gold:
But I confesse sir, that we were lock'd out

   Adr. Dissembling Villain, thou speak'st false in both
  Ant. Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all,
And art confederate with a damned packe,
To make a loathsome abiect scorne of me:
But with these nailes, Ile plucke out these false eyes,
That would behold in me this shamefull sport.

Enter three or foure, and offer to binde him: Hee striues.

  Adr. Oh binde him, binde him, let him not come
neere me

   Pinch. More company, the fiend is strong within him
  Luc. Aye me poore man, how pale and wan he looks

   Ant. What will you murther me, thou Iailor thou?
I am thy prisoner, wilt thou suffer them to make a rescue?
  Offi. Masters let him go: he is my prisoner, and you
shall not haue him

   Pinch. Go binde this man, for he is franticke too

   Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peeuish Officer?
Hast thou delight to see a wretched man
Do outrage and displeasure to himselfe?
  Offi. He is my prisoner, if I let him go,
The debt he owes will be requir'd of me

   Adr. I will discharge thee ere I go from thee,
Beare me forthwith vnto his Creditor,
And knowing how the debt growes I will pay it.
Good Master Doctor see him safe conuey'd
Home to my house, oh most vnhappy day

   Ant. Oh most vnhappie strumpet

   Dro. Master, I am heere entred in bond for you

   Ant. Out on thee Villaine, wherefore dost thou mad
mee?
  Dro. Will you be bound for nothing, be mad good
Master, cry the diuell

   Luc. God helpe poore soules, how idlely doe they
talke

   Adr. Go beare him hence, sister go you with me:
Say now, whose suite is he arrested at?

Exeunt. Manet Offic. Adri. Luci. Courtizan

  Off. One Angelo a Goldsmith, do you know him?
  Adr. I know the man: what is the summe he owes?
  Off. Two hundred Duckets

   Adr. Say, how growes it due

   Off. Due for a Chaine your husband had of him

   Adr. He did bespeake a Chain for me, but had it not

   Cur. When as your husband all in rage to day
Came to my house, and tooke away my Ring,
The Ring I saw vpon his finger now,
Straight after did I meete him with a Chaine

   Adr. It may be so, but I did neuer see it.
Come Iailor, bring me where the Goldsmith is,
I long to know the truth heereof at large.

Enter Antipholus Siracusia with his Rapier drawne, and Dromio
Sirac.

  Luc. God for thy mercy, they are loose againe

   Adr. And come with naked swords,
Let's call more helpe to haue them bound againe.

Runne all out.

  Off. Away, they'l kill vs.

Exeunt. omnes, as fast as may be, frighted.

  S.Ant. I see these Witches are affraid of swords

   S.Dro. She that would be your wife, now ran from
you

   Ant. Come to the Centaur, fetch our stuffe from
thence:
I long that we were safe and sound aboord

   Dro. Faith stay heere this night, they will surely do
vs no harme: you saw they speake vs faire, giue vs gold:
me thinkes they are such a gentle Nation, that but for
the Mountaine of mad flesh that claimes mariage of me,
I could finde in my heart to stay heere still, and turne
Witch

   Ant. I will not stay to night for all the Towne,
Therefore away, to get our stuffe aboord.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

Enter the Merchant and the Goldsmith.

  Gold. I am sorry Sir that I haue hindred you,
But I protest he had the Chaine of me,
Though most dishonestly he doth denie it

   Mar. How is the man esteem'd heere in the Citie?
  Gold. Of very reuerent reputation sir,
Of credit infinite, highly belou'd,
Second to none that liues heere in the Citie:
His word might beare my wealth at any time

   Mar. Speake softly, yonder as I thinke he walkes.

Enter Antipholus and Dromio againe.

  Gold. 'Tis so: and that selfe chaine about his necke,
Which he forswore most monstrously to haue.
Good sir draw neere to me, Ile speake to him:
Signior Antipholus, I wonder much
That you would put me to this shame and trouble,
And not without some scandall to your selfe,
With circumstance and oaths, so to denie
This Chaine, which now you weare so openly.
Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment,
You haue done wrong to this my honest friend,
Who but for staying on our Controuersie,
Had hoisted saile, and put to sea to day:
This Chaine you had of me, can you deny it?
  Ant. I thinke I had, I neuer did deny it

   Mar. Yes that you did sir, and forswore it too

   Ant. Who heard me to denie it or forsweare it?
  Mar. These eares of mine thou knowst did hear thee:
Fie on thee wretch, 'tis pitty that thou liu'st
To walke where any honest men resort

   Ant. Thou art a Villaine to impeach me thus,
Ile proue mine honor, and mine honestie
Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand:
  Mar. I dare and do defie thee for a villaine.

They draw. Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, & others.

  Adr. Hold, hurt him not for God sake, he is mad,
Some get within him, take his sword away:
Binde Dromio too, and beare them to my house

   S.Dro. Runne master run, for Gods sake take a house,
This is some Priorie, in, or we are spoyl'd.

Exeunt. to the Priorie.

Enter Ladie Abbesse.

  Ab. Be quiet people, wherefore throng you hither?
  Adr. To fetch my poore distracted husband hence,
Let vs come in, that we may binde him fast,
And beare him home for his recouerie

   Gold. I knew he was not in his perfect wits

   Mar. I am sorry now that I did draw on him

   Ab. How long hath this possession held the man

   Adr. This weeke he hath beene heauie, sower sad,
And much different from the man he was:
But till this afternoone his passion
Ne're brake into extremity of rage

   Ab. Hath he not lost much wealth by wrack of sea,
Buried some deere friend, hath not else his eye
Stray'd his affection in vnlawfull loue,
A sinne preuailing much in youthfull men,
Who giue their eies the liberty of gazing.
Which of these sorrowes is he subiect too?
  Adr. To none of these, except it be the last,
Namely, some loue that drew him oft from home

   Ab. You should for that haue reprehended him

   Adr. Why so I did

   Ab. I but not rough enough

   Adr. As roughly as my modestie would let me

   Ab. Haply in priuate

   Adr. And in assemblies too

   Ab. I, but not enough

   Adr. It was the copie of our Conference.
In bed he slept not for my vrging it,
At boord he fed not for my vrging it:
Alone, it was the subiect of my Theame:
In company I often glanced it:
Still did I tell him, it was vilde and bad

   Ab. And thereof came it, that the man was mad.
The venome clamors of a iealous woman,
Poisons more deadly then a mad dogges tooth.
It seemes his sleepes were hindred by thy railing,
And thereof comes it that his head is light.
Thou saist his meate was sawc'd with thy vpbraidings,
Vnquiet meales make ill digestions,
Thereof the raging fire of feauer bred,
And what's a Feauer, but a fit of madnesse?
Thou sayest his sports were hindred by thy bralles.
Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue
But moodie and dull melancholly,
Kinsman to grim and comfortlesse dispaire,
And at her heeles a huge infectious troope
Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life?
In food, in sport, and life-preseruing rest
To be disturb'd, would mad or man, or beast:
The consequence is then, thy iealous fits
Hath scar'd thy husband from the vse of wits

   Luc. She neuer reprehended him but mildely,
When he demean'd himselfe, rough, rude, and wildly,
Why beare you these rebukes, and answer not?
  Adri. She did betray me to my owne reproofe,
Good people enter, and lay hold on him

   Ab. No, not a creature enters in my house

   Ad. Then let your seruants bring my husband forth
  Ab. Neither: he tooke this place for sanctuary,
And it shall priuiledge him from your hands,
Till I haue brought him to his wits againe,
Or loose my labour in assaying it

   Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse,
Diet his sicknesse, for it is my Office,
And will haue no atturney but my selfe,
And therefore let me haue him home with me

   Ab. Be patient, for I will not let him stirre,
Till I haue vs'd the approoued meanes I haue,
With wholsome sirrups, drugges, and holy prayers
To make of him a formall man againe:
It is a branch and parcell of mine oath,
A charitable dutie of my order,
Therefore depart, and leaue him heere with me

   Adr. I will not hence, and leaue my husband heere:
And ill it doth beseeme your holinesse
To separate the husband and the wife

   Ab. Be quiet and depart, thou shalt not haue him

   Luc. Complaine vnto the Duke of this indignity

   Adr. Come go, I will fall prostrate at his feete,
And neuer rise vntill my teares and prayers
Haue won his grace to come in person hither,
And take perforce my husband from the Abbesse

   Mar. By this I thinke the Diall points at fiue:
Anon I'me sure the Duke himselfe in person
Comes this way to the melancholly vale;
The place of depth, and sorrie execution,
Behinde the ditches of the Abbey heere

   Gold. Vpon what cause?
  Mar. To see a reuerent Siracusian Merchant,
Who put vnluckily into this Bay
Against the Lawes and Statutes of this Towne,
Beheaded publikely for his offence

   Gold. See where they come, we wil behold his death
  Luc. Kneele to the Duke before he passe the Abbey.

Enter the Duke of Ephesus, and the Merchant of Siracuse bare
head, with
the Headsman, & other Officers.

  Duke. Yet once againe proclaime it publikely,
If any friend will pay the summe for him,
He shall not die, so much we tender him

   Adr. Iustice most sacred Duke against the Abbesse

   Duke. She is a vertuous and a reuerend Lady,
It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong

   Adr. May it please your Grace, Antipholus my husba[n]d,
Who I made Lord of me, and all I had,
At your important Letters this ill day,
A most outragious fit of madnesse tooke him:
That desp'rately he hurried through the streete,
With him his bondman, all as mad as he,
Doing displeasure to the Citizens,
By rushing in their houses: bearing thence
Rings, Iewels, any thing his rage did like.
Once did I get him bound, and sent him home,
Whil'st to take order for the wrongs I went,
That heere and there his furie had committed,
Anon I wot not, by what strong escape
He broke from those that had the guard of him,
And with his mad attendant and himselfe,
Each one with irefull passion, with drawne swords
Met vs againe, and madly bent on vs
Chac'd vs away: till raising of more aide
We came againe to binde them: then they fled
Into this Abbey, whether we pursu'd them,
And heere the Abbesse shuts the gates on vs,
And will not suffer vs to fetch him out,
Nor send him forth, that we may beare him hence.
Therefore most gracious Duke with thy command,
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for helpe

   Duke. Long since thy husband seru'd me in my wars
And I to thee ingag'd a Princes word,
When thou didst make him Master of thy bed,
To do him all the grace and good I could.
Go some of you, knocke at the Abbey gate,
And bid the Lady Abbesse come to me:
I will determine this before I stirre.

Enter a Messenger.

Oh Mistris, Mistris, shift and saue your selfe,
My Master and his man are both broke loose,
Beaten the Maids a-row, and bound the Doctor,
Whose beard they haue sindg'd off with brands of fire,
And euer as it blaz'd, they threw on him
Great pailes of puddled myre to quench the haire;
My Mr preaches patience to him, and the while
His man with Cizers nickes him like a foole:
And sure (vnlesse you send some present helpe)
Betweene them they will kill the Coniurer

   Adr. Peace foole, thy Master and his man are here,
And that is false thou dost report to vs

   Mess. Mistris, vpon my life I tel you true,
I haue not breath'd almost since I did see it.
He cries for you, and vowes if he can take you,
To scorch your face, and to disfigure you:

Cry within.

Harke, harke, I heare him Mistris: flie, be gone

   Duke. Come stand by me, feare nothing: guard with
Halberds

   Adr. Ay me, it is my husband: witnesse you,
That he is borne about inuisible,
Euen now we hous'd him in the Abbey heere.
And now he's there, past thought of humane reason.

Enter Antipholus, and E.Dromio of Ephesus.

  E.Ant. Iustice most gracious Duke, oh grant me iustice,
Euen for the seruice that long since I did thee,
When I bestrid thee in the warres, and tooke
Deepe scarres to saue thy life; euen for the blood
That then I lost for thee, now grant me iustice

   Mar.Fat. Vnlesse the feare of death doth make me
dote, I see my sonne Antipholus and Dromio

   E.Ant. Iustice (sweet Prince) against y Woman there:
She whom thou gau'st to me to be my wife;
That hath abused and dishonored me,
Euen in the strength and height of iniurie:
Beyond imagination is the wrong
That she this day hath shamelesse throwne on me

   Duke. Discouer how, and thou shalt finde me iust

   E.Ant. This day (great Duke) she shut the doores
vpon me,
While she with Harlots feasted in my house

   Duke. A greeuous fault: say woman, didst thou so?
  Adr. No my good Lord. My selfe, he, and my sister,
To day did dine together: so befall my soule,
As this is false he burthens me withall

   Luc. Nere may I looke on day, nor sleepe on night,
But she tels to your Highnesse simple truth

   Gold. O periur'd woman! They are both forsworne,
In this the Madman iustly chargeth them

   E.Ant. My Liege, I am aduised what I say,
Neither disturbed with the effect of Wine,
Nor headie-rash prouoak'd with raging ire,
Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad.
This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner;
That Goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
Could witnesse it: for he was with me then,
Who parted with me to go fetch a Chaine,
Promising to bring it to the Porpentine,
Where Balthasar and I did dine together.
Our dinner done, and he not comming thither,
I went to seeke him. In the street I met him,
And in his companie that Gentleman.
There did this periur'd Goldsmith sweare me downe,
That I this day of him receiu'd the Chaine,
Which God he knowes, I saw not. For the which,
He did arrest me with an Officer.
I did obey, and sent my Pesant home
For certaine Duckets: he with none return'd.
Then fairely I bespoke the Officer
To go in person with me to my house.
By'th' way, we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble more
Of vilde Confederates: Along with them
They brought one Pinch, a hungry leane-fac'd Villaine;
A meere Anatomie, a Mountebanke,
A thred-bare Iugler, and a Fortune-teller,
A needy-hollow-ey'd-sharpe-looking-wretch;
A liuing dead man. This pernicious slaue,
Forsooth tooke on him as a Coniurer:
And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no-face (as 'twere) out-facing me,
Cries out, I was possest. Then altogether
They fell vpon me, bound me, bore me thence,
And in a darke and dankish vault at home
There left me and my man, both bound together,
Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
I gain'd my freedome; and immediately
Ran hether to your Grace, whom I beseech
To giue me ample satisfaction
For these deepe shames, and great indignities

   Gold. My Lord, in truth, thus far I witnes with him:
That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out

   Duke. But had he such a Chaine of thee, or no?
  Gold. He had my Lord, and when he ran in heere,
These people saw the Chaine about his necke

   Mar. Besides, I will be sworne these eares of mine,
Heard you confesse you had the Chaine of him,
After you first forswore it on the Mart,
And thereupon I drew my sword on you:
And then you fled into this Abbey heere,
From whence I thinke you are come by Miracle

   E.Ant. I neuer came within these Abbey wals,
Nor euer didst thou draw thy sword on me:
I neuer saw the Chaine, so helpe me heauen:
And this is false you burthen me withall

   Duke. Why what an intricate impeach is this?
I thinke you all haue drunke of Circes cup:
If heere you hous'd him, heere he would haue bin.
If he were mad, he would not pleade so coldly:
You say he din'd at home, the Goldsmith heere
Denies that saying. Sirra, what say you?
  E.Dro. Sir he din'de with her there, at the Porpentine

   Cur. He did, and from my finger snacht that Ring

   E.Anti. Tis true (my Liege) this Ring I had of her

   Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the Abbey heere?
  Curt. As sure (my Liege) as I do see your Grace

   Duke. Why this is straunge: Go call the Abbesse hither.
I thinke you are all mated, or starke mad.

Exit one to the Abbesse.

  Fa. Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a word:
Haply I see a friend will saue my life,
And pay the sum that may deliuer me

   Duke. Speake freely Siracusian what thou wilt

   Fath. Is not your name sir call'd Antipholus?
And is not that your bondman Dromio?
  E.Dro. Within this houre I was his bondman sir,
But he I thanke him gnaw'd in two my cords,
Now am I Dromio, and his man, vnbound

   Fath. I am sure you both of you remember me

   Dro. Our selues we do remember sir by you:
For lately we were bound as you are now.
You are not Pinches patient, are you sir?
  Father. Why looke you strange on me? you know
me well

   E.Ant. I neuer saw you in my life till now

   Fa. Oh! griefe hath chang'd me since you saw me last,
And carefull houres with times deformed hand,
Haue written strange defeatures in my face:
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
  Ant. Neither

   Fat. Dromio, nor thou?
  Dro. No trust me sir, nor I

   Fa. I am sure thou dost?
  E.Dromio. I sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatsoeuer
a man denies, you are now bound to beleeue him

   Fath. Not know my voice, oh times extremity
Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poore tongue
In seuen short yeares, that heere my onely sonne
Knowes not my feeble key of vntun'd cares?
Though now this grained face of mine be hid
In sap-consuming Winters drizled snow,
And all the Conduits of my blood froze vp:
Yet hath my night of life some memorie:
My wasting lampes some fading glimmer left;
My dull deafe eares a little vse to heare:
All these old witnesses, I cannot erre.
Tell me, thou art my sonne Antipholus

   Ant. I neuer saw my Father in my life

   Fa. But seuen yeares since, in Siracusa boy
Thou know'st we parted, but perhaps my sonne,
Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in miserie

   Ant. The Duke, and all that know me in the City,
Can witnesse with me that it is not so.
I ne're saw Siracusa in my life

   Duke. I tell thee Siracusian, twentie yeares
Haue I bin Patron to Antipholus,
During which time, he ne're saw Siracusa:
I see thy age and dangers make thee dote.

Enter the Abbesse with Antipholus Siracusa, and Dromio Sir.

  Abbesse. Most mightie Duke, behold a man much
wrong'd.

All gather to see them.

  Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceiue me

   Duke. One of these men is genius to the other:
And so of these, which is the naturall man,
And which the spirit? Who deciphers them?
  S.Dromio. I Sir am Dromio, command him away

   E.Dro. I Sir am Dromio, pray let me stay

   S.Ant. Egeon art thou not? or else his ghost

   S.Drom. Oh my olde Master, who hath bound him
heere?
  Abb. Who euer bound him, I will lose his bonds,
And gaine a husband by his libertie:
Speake olde Egeon, if thou bee'st the man
That hadst a wife once call'd Aemilia,
That bore thee at a burthen two faire sonnes?
Oh if thou bee'st the same Egeon, speake:
And speake vnto the same Aemilia

   Duke. Why heere begins his Morning storie right:
These two Antipholus, these two so like,
And these two Dromio's, one in semblance:
Besides her vrging of her wracke at sea,
These are the parents to these children,
Which accidentally are met together

   Fa. If I dreame not, thou art Aemilia,
If thou art she, tell me, where is that sonne
That floated with thee on the fatall rafte

   Abb. By men of Epidamium, he, and I,
And the twin Dromio, all were taken vp;
But by and by, rude Fishermen of Corinth
By force tooke Dromio, and my sonne from them,
And me they left with those of Epidamium.
What then became of them, I cannot tell:
I, to this fortune that you see mee in

   Duke. Antipholus thou cam'st from Corinth first

   S.Ant. No sir, not I, I came from Siracuse

   Duke. Stay, stand apart, I know not which is which

   E.Ant. I came from Corinth my most gracious Lord
  E.Dro. And I with him

   E.Ant. Brought to this Town by that most famous
Warriour,
Duke Menaphon your most renowned Vnckle

   Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to day?
  S.Ant. I, gentle Mistris

   Adr. And are not you my husband?
  E.Ant. No, I say nay to that

   S.Ant. And so do I, yet did she call me so:
And this faire Gentlewoman her sister heere
Did call me brother. What I told you then,
I hope I shall haue leisure to make good,
If this be not a dreame I see and heare

   Goldsmith. That is the Chaine sir, which you had of
mee

   S.Ant. I thinke it be sir, I denie it not

   E.Ant. And you sir for this Chaine arrested me

   Gold. I thinke I did sir, I deny it not

   Adr. I sent you monie sir to be your baile
By Dromio, but I thinke he brought it not

   E.Dro. No, none by me

   S.Ant. This purse of Duckets I receiu'd from you,
And Dromio my man did bring them me:
I see we still did meete each others man,
And I was tane for him, and he for me,
And thereupon these errors are arose

   E.Ant. These Duckets pawne I for my father heere

   Duke. It shall not neede, thy father hath his life

   Cur. Sir I must haue that Diamond from you

   E.Ant. There take it, and much thanks for my good
cheere

   Abb. Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the paines
To go with vs into the Abbey heere,
And heare at large discoursed all our fortunes,
And all that are assembled in this place:
That by this simpathized one daies error
Haue suffer'd wrong. Goe, keepe vs companie,
And we shall make full satisfaction.
Thirtie three yeares haue I but gone in trauaile
Of you my sonnes, and till this present houre
My heauie burthen are deliuered:
The Duke my husband, and my children both,
And you the Kalenders of their Natiuity,
Go to a Gossips feast, and go with mee,
After so long greefe such Natiuitie

   Duke. With all my heart, Ile Gossip at this feast.

Exeunt. omnes. Manet the two Dromio's and two Brothers.

  S.Dro. Mast[er]. shall I fetch your stuffe from shipbord?
  E.An. Dromio, what stuffe of mine hast thou imbarkt
  S.Dro. Your goods that lay at host sir in the Centaur

   S.Ant. He speakes to me, I am your master Dromio.
Come go with vs, wee'l looke to that anon,
Embrace thy brother there, reioyce with him.

Exit

  S.Dro. There is a fat friend at your masters house,
That kitchin'd me for you to day at dinner:
She now shall be my sister, not my wife,
  E.D. Me thinks you are my glasse, & not my brother:
I see by you, I am a sweet-fac'd youth,
Will you walke in to see their gossipping?
  S.Dro. Not I sir, you are my elder

   E.Dro. That's a question, how shall we trie it

   S.Dro. Wee'l draw Cuts for the Signior, till then,
lead thou first

   E.Dro. Nay then thus:
We came into the world like brother and brother:
And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.

Exeunt.

FINIS. The Comedie of Errors.


Much adoe about Nothing

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Enter Leonato Gouernour of Messina, Innogen his wife, Hero his
daughter,
and Beatrice his Neece, with a messenger.

  Leonato. I learne in this Letter, that Don Peter of Arragon,
comes this night to Messina

   Mess. He is very neere by this: he was not
three Leagues off when I left him

   Leon. How many Gentlemen haue you lost in this
action?
  Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name

   Leon. A victorie is twice it selfe, when the atchieuer
brings home full numbers: I finde heere, that Don Peter
hath bestowed much honor on a yong Florentine, called
Claudio

   Mess. Much deseru'd on his part, and equally remembred
by Don Pedro, he hath borne himselfe beyond the
promise of his age, doing in the figure of a Lambe, the
feats of a Lion, he hath indeede better bettred expectation,
then you must expect of me to tell you how

   Leo. He hath an Vnckle heere in Messina, wil be very
much glad of it

   Mess. I haue alreadie deliuered him letters, and there
appeares much ioy in him, euen so much, that ioy could
not shew it selfe modest enough, without a badg of bitternesse

   Leo. Did he breake out into teares?
  Mess. In great measure

   Leo. A kinde ouerflow of kindnesse, there are no faces
truer, then those that are so wash'd, how much better
is it to weepe at ioy, then to ioy at weeping?
  Bea. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from
the warres, or no?
  Mess. I know none of that name, Lady, there was
none such in the armie of any sort

   Leon. What is he that you aske for Neece?
  Hero. My cousin meanes Signior Benedick of Padua
  Mess. O he's return'd, and as pleasant as euer he was

   Beat. He set vp his bils here in Messina, & challeng'd
Cupid at the Flight: and my Vnckles foole reading the
Challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at
the Burbolt. I pray you, how many hath hee kil'd and
eaten in these warres? But how many hath he kil'd? for
indeed, I promis'd to eate all of his killing

   Leon. 'Faith Neece, you taxe Signior Benedicke too
much, but hee'l be meete with you, I doubt it not

   Mess. He hath done good seruice Lady in these wars

   Beat. You had musty victuall, and he hath holpe to
ease it: he's a very valiant Trencher-man, hee hath an
excellent stomacke

   Mess. And a good souldier too Lady

   Beat. And a good souldier to a Lady. But what is he
to a Lord?
  Mess. A Lord to a Lord, a man to a man, stuft with
all honourable vertues

   Beat. It is so indeed, he is no lesse then a stuft man:
but for the stuffing well, we are all mortall

   Leon. You must not (sir) mistake my Neece, there is
a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick, & her:
they neuer meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between
them

   Bea. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict,
foure of his fiue wits went halting off, and now is
the whole man gouern'd with one: so that if hee haue
wit enough to keepe himselfe warme, let him beare it
for a difference betweene himselfe and his horse: For it
is all the wealth that he hath left, to be knowne a reasonable
creature. Who is his companion now? He hath
euery month a new sworne brother

   Mess. Is't possible?
  Beat. Very easily possible: he weares his faith but as
the fashion of his hat, it euer changes with y next block

   Mess. I see (Lady) the Gentleman is not in your
bookes

   Bea. No, and he were, I would burne my study. But
I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young
squarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the
diuell?
  Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble
Claudio

   Beat. O Lord, he will hang vpon him like a disease:
he is sooner caught then the pestilence, and the taker
runs presently mad. God helpe the noble Claudio, if hee
haue caught the Benedict, it will cost him a thousand
pound ere he be cur'd

   Mess. I will hold friends with you Lady

   Bea. Do good friend

   Leo. You'l ne're run mad Neece

   Bea. No, not till a hot Ianuary

   Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd.

Enter don Pedro, Claudio, Benedicke, Balthasar, and Iohn the
bastard.

  Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet
your trouble: the fashion of the world is to auoid cost,
and you encounter it

   Leon. Neuer came trouble to my house in the likenes
of your Grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should
remaine: but when you depart from me, sorrow abides,
and happinesse takes his leaue

   Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly: I
thinke this is your daughter

   Leonato. Her mother hath many times told me so

   Bened. Were you in doubt that you askt her?
  Leonato. Signior Benedicke, no, for then were you a
childe

   Pedro. You haue it full Benedicke, we may ghesse by
this, what you are, being a man, truely the Lady fathers
her selfe: be happie Lady, for you are like an honorable
father

   Ben. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not
haue his head on her shoulders for al Messina, as like him
as she is

   Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior
Benedicke, no body markes you

   Ben. What my deere Ladie Disdaine! are you yet
liuing?
  Beat. Is it possible Disdaine should die, while shee
hath such meete foode to feede it, as Signior Benedicke?
Curtesie it selfe must conuert to Disdaine, if you come in
her presence

   Bene. Then is curtesie a turne-coate, but it is certaine
I am loued of all Ladies, onely you excepted: and
I would I could finde in my heart that I had not a hard
heart, for truely I loue none

   Beat. A deere happinesse to women, they would else
haue beene troubled with a pernitious Suter, I thanke
God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that, I
had rather heare my Dog barke at a Crow, than a man
sweare he loues me

   Bene. God keepe your Ladiship still in that minde,
so some Gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate
scratcht face

   Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, and 'twere
such a face as yours were

   Bene. Well, you are a rare Parrat teacher

   Beat. A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast of
your

   Ben. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue,
and so good a continuer, but keepe your way a Gods
name, I haue done

   Beat. You alwaies end with a Iades tricke, I know
you of old

   Pedro. This is the summe of all: Leonato, signior Claudio,
and signior Benedicke; my deere friend Leonato, hath
inuited you all, I tell him we shall stay here, at the least
a moneth, and he heartily praies some occasion may detaine
vs longer: I dare sweare hee is no hypocrite, but
praies from his heart

   Leon. If you sweare, my Lord, you shall not be forsworne,
let mee bid you welcome, my Lord, being reconciled
to the Prince your brother: I owe you all
duetie

   Iohn. I thanke you, I am not of many words, but I
thanke you

   Leon. Please it your grace leade on?
  Pedro. Your hand Leonato, we will goe together.

Exeunt. Manet Benedicke and Claudio.

  Clau. Benedicke, didst thou note the daughter of signior
Leonato?
  Bene. I noted her not, but I lookt on her

   Claud. Is she not a modest yong Ladie?
  Bene. Doe you question me as an honest man should
doe, for my simple true iudgement? or would you haue
me speake after my custome, as being a professed tyrant
to their sexe?
  Clau. No, I pray thee speake in sober iudgement

   Bene. Why yfaith me thinks shee's too low for a hie
praise, too browne for a faire praise, and too little for a
great praise, onely this commendation I can affoord her,
that were shee other then she is, she were vnhandsome,
and being no other, but as she is, I doe not like her

   Clau. Thou think'st I am in sport, I pray thee tell me
truely how thou lik'st her

   Bene. Would you buie her, that you enquier after
her?
  Clau. Can the world buie such a iewell?
  Ben. Yea, and a case to put it into, but speake you this
with a sad brow? Or doe you play the flowting iacke, to
tell vs Cupid is a good Hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare
Carpenter: Come, in what key shall a man take you to
goe in the song?
  Clau. In mine eie, she is the sweetest Ladie that euer
I lookt on

   Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no
such matter: there's her cosin, and she were not possest
with a furie, exceedes her as much in beautie, as the first
of Maie doth the last of December: but I hope you haue
no intent to turne husband, haue you?
  Clau. I would scarce trust my selfe, though I had
sworne the contrarie, if Hero would be my wife

   Bene. Ist come to this? in faith hath not the world one
man but he will weare his cap with suspition? shall I neuer
see a batcheller of three score againe? goe to yfaith,
and thou wilt needes thrust thy necke into a yoke, weare
the print of it, and sigh away sundaies: looke, don Pedro
is returned to seeke you.

Enter don Pedro, Iohn the bastard.

  Pedr. What secret hath held you here, that you followed
not to Leonatoes?
  Bened. I would your Grace would constraine mee to
tell

   Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegeance

   Ben. You heare, Count Claudio, I can be secret as a
dumbe man, I would haue you thinke so (but on my allegiance,
marke you this, on my allegiance) hee is in
loue, With who? now that is your Graces part: marke
how short his answere is, with Hero, Leonatoes short
daughter

   Clau. If this were so, so were it vttred

   Bened. Like the old tale, my Lord, it is not so, nor 'twas
not so: but indeede, God forbid it should be so

   Clau. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it
should be otherwise

   Pedro. Amen, if you loue her, for the Ladie is verie
well worthie

   Clau. You speake this to fetch me in, my Lord

   Pedr. By my troth I speake my thought

   Clau. And in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine

   Bened. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord, I
speake mine

   Clau. That I loue her, I feele

   Pedr. That she is worthie, I know

   Bened. That I neither feele how shee should be loued,
nor know how shee should be worthie, is the
opinion that fire cannot melt out of me, I will die in it at
the stake

   Pedr. Thou wast euer an obstinate heretique in the despight
of Beautie

   Clau. And neuer could maintaine his part, but in the
force of his will
  Ben. That a woman conceiued me, I thanke her: that
she brought mee vp, I likewise giue her most humble
thankes: but that I will haue a rechate winded in my
forehead, or hang my bugle in an inuisible baldricke, all
women shall pardon me: because I will not do them the
wrong to mistrust any, I will doe my selfe the right to
trust none: and the fine is, (for the which I may goe the
finer) I will liue a Batchellor

   Pedro. I shall see thee ere I die, looke pale with loue

   Bene. With anger, with sicknesse, or with hunger,
my Lord, not with loue: proue that euer I loose more
blood with loue, then I will get againe with drinking,
picke out mine eyes with a Ballet-makers penne, and
hang me vp at the doore of a brothel-house for the signe
of blinde Cupid

   Pedro. Well, if euer thou doost fall from this faith,
thou wilt proue a notable argument

   Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a Cat, & shoot
at me, and he that hit's me, let him be clapt on the shoulder,
and cal'd Adam

   Pedro. Well, as time shall trie: In time the sauage
Bull doth beare the yoake

   Bene. The sauage bull may, but if euer the sensible
Benedicke beare it, plucke off the bulles hornes, and set
them in my forehead, and let me be vildely painted, and
in such great Letters as they write, heere is good horse
to hire: let them signifie vnder my signe, here you may
see Benedicke the married man

   Clau. If this should euer happen, thou wouldst bee
horne mad

   Pedro. Nay, if Cupid haue not spent all his Quiuer in
Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly

   Bene. I looke for an earthquake too then

   Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the houres, in
the meane time, good Signior Benedicke, repaire to Leonatoes,
commend me to him, and tell him I will not faile
him at supper, for indeede he hath made great preparation

   Bene. I haue almost matter enough in me for such an
Embassage, and so I commit you

   Clau. To the tuition of God. From my house, if I
had it

   Pedro. The sixt of Iuly. Your louing friend, Benedick

   Bene. Nay mocke not, mocke not; the body of your
discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the
guardes are but slightly basted on neither, ere you flout
old ends any further, examine your conscience, and so I
leaue you.

Enter.

  Clau. My Liege, your Highnesse now may doe mee
good

   Pedro. My loue is thine to teach, teach it but how,
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learne
Any hard Lesson that may do thee good

   Clau. Hath Leonato any sonne my Lord?
  Pedro. No childe but Hero, she's his onely heire.
Dost thou affect her Claudio?
  Clau. O my Lord,
When you went onward on this ended action,
I look'd vpon her with a souldiers eie,
That lik'd, but had a rougher taske in hand,
Than to driue liking to the name of loue:
But now I am return'd, and that warre-thoughts
Haue left their places vacant: in their roomes,
Come thronging soft and delicate desires,
All prompting mee how faire yong Hero is,
Saying I lik'd her ere I went to warres

   Pedro. Thou wilt be like a louer presently,
And tire the hearer with a booke of words:
If thou dost loue faire Hero, cherish it,
And I will breake with her: wast not to this end,
That thou beganst to twist so fine a story?
  Clau. How sweetly doe you minister to loue,
That know loues griefe by his complexion!
But lest my liking might too sodaine seeme,
I would haue salu'd it with a longer treatise

   Ped. What need y bridge much broder then the flood?
The fairest graunt is the necessitie:
Looke what will serue, is fit: 'tis once, thou louest,
And I will fit thee with the remedie,
I know we shall haue reuelling to night,
I will assume thy part in some disguise,
And tell faire Hero I am Claudio,
And in her bosome Ile vnclaspe my heart,
And take her hearing prisoner with the force
And strong incounter of my amorous tale:
Then after, to her father will I breake,
And the conclusion is, shee shall be thine,
In practise let vs put it presently.

Exeunt.

Enter Leonato and an old man, brother to Leonato.

  Leo. How now brother, where is my cosen your son:
hath he prouided this musicke?
  Old. He is very busie about it, but brother, I can tell
you newes that you yet dreamt not of

   Lo. Are they good?
  Old. As the euents stamps them, but they haue a good
couer: they shew well outward, the Prince and Count
Claudio walking in a thick pleached alley in my orchard,
were thus ouer-heard by a man of mine: the Prince discouered
to Claudio that hee loued my niece your daughter,
and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance,
and if hee found her accordant, hee meant to take the
present time by the top, and instantly breake with you
of it

   Leo. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?
  Old. A good sharpe fellow, I will send for him, and
question him your selfe

   Leo. No, no; wee will hold it as a dreame, till it appeare
it selfe: but I will acquaint my daughter withall,
that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peraduenture
this bee true: goe you and tell her of it: coosins,
you know what you haue to doe, O I crie you mercie
friend, goe you with mee and I will vse your skill,
good cosin haue a care this busie time.

Exeunt.

Enter Sir Iohn the Bastard, and Conrade his companion.

  Con. What the good yeere my Lord, why are you
thus out of measure sad?
  Ioh. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds,
therefore the sadnesse is without limit

   Con. You should heare reason

   Iohn. And when I haue heard it, what blessing bringeth
it?
  Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance

   Ioh. I wonder that thou (being as thou saist thou art,
borne vnder Saturne) goest about to apply a morall medicine,
to a mortifying mischiefe: I cannot hide what I
am: I must bee sad when I haue cause, and smile at no
mans iests, eat when I haue stomacke, and wait for no
mans leisure: sleepe when I am drowsie, and tend on no
mans businesse, laugh when I am merry, and claw no man
in his humor

   Con. Yea, but you must not make the ful show of this,
till you may doe it without controllment, you haue of
late stood out against your brother, and hee hath tane
you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you
should take root, but by the faire weather that you make
your selfe, it is needful that you frame the season for your
owne haruest

   Iohn. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, then a rose
in his grace, and it better fits my bloud to be disdain'd of
all, then to fashion a carriage to rob loue from any: in this
(though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man)
it must not be denied but I am a plaine dealing villaine, I
am trusted with a mussell, and enfranchisde with a clog,
therefore I haue decreed, not to sing in my cage: if I had
my mouth, I would bite: if I had my liberty, I would do
my liking: in the meane time, let me be that I am, and
seeke not to alter me

   Con. Can you make no vse of your discontent?
  Iohn. I will make all vse of it, for I vse it onely.
Who comes here? what newes Borachio?

Enter Borachio.

  Bor. I came yonder from a great supper, the Prince
your brother is royally entertained by Leonato, and I can
giue you intelligence of an intended marriage

   Iohn. Will it serue for any Modell to build mischiefe
on? What is hee for a foole that betrothes himselfe to
vnquietnesse?
  Bor. Mary it is your brothers right hand

   Iohn. Who, the most exquisite Claudio?
  Bor. Euen he

   Iohn. A proper squier, and who, and who, which way
lookes he?
  Bor. Mary on Hero, the daughter and Heire of Leonato

   Iohn. A very forward March-chicke, how came you
to this:
  Bor. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoaking
a musty roome, comes me the Prince and Claudio,
hand in hand in sad conference: I whipt behind the Arras,
and there heard it agreed vpon, that the Prince should
wooe Hero for himselfe, and hauing obtain'd her, giue
her to Count Claudio

   Iohn. Come, come, let vs thither, this may proue food
to my displeasure, that young start-vp hath all the glorie
of my ouerthrow: if I can crosse him any way, I blesse
my selfe euery way, you are both sure, and will assist
mee?
  Conr. To the death my Lord

   Iohn. Let vs to the great supper, their cheere is the
greater that I am subdued, would the Cooke were of my
minde: shall we goe proue whats to be done?
  Bor. Wee'll wait vpon your Lordship.

Exeunt.


Actus Secundus.

Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and
Beatrice his
neece, and a kinsman.

  Leonato. Was not Count Iohn here at supper?
  Brother. I saw him not

   Beatrice. How tartly that Gentleman lookes, I neuer
can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an howre after

   Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition

   Beatrice. Hee were an excellent man that were made
iust in the mid-way betweene him and Benedicke, the one
is too like an image and saies nothing, and the other too
like my Ladies eldest sonne, euermore tatling

   Leon. Then halfe signior Benedicks tongue in Count
Iohns mouth, and halfe Count Iohns melancholy in Signior
Benedicks face

   Beat. With a good legge, and a good foot vnckle, and
money enough in his purse, such a man would winne any
woman in the world, if he could get her good will

   Leon. By my troth Neece, thou wilt neuer get thee a
husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue

   Brother. Infaith shee's too curst

   Beat. Too curst is more then curst, I shall lessen Gods
sending that way: for it is said, God sends a curst Cow
short hornes, but to a Cow too curst he sends none

   Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no
hornes

   Beat. Iust, if he send me no husband, for the which
blessing, I am at him vpon my knees euery morning and
euening: Lord, I could not endure a husband with a
beard on his face, I had rather lie in the woollen

   Leonato. You may light vpon a husband that hath no
beard

   Beatrice. What should I doe with him? dresse him in
my apparell, and make him my waiting gentlewoman? he
that hath a beard, is more then a youth: and he that hath
no beard, is lesse then a man: and hee that is more then a
youth, is not for mee: and he that is lesse then a man, I am
not for him: therefore I will euen take sixepence in earnest
of the Berrord, and leade his Apes into hell

   Leon. Well then, goe you into hell

   Beat. No, but to the gate, and there will the Deuill
meete mee like an old Cuckold with hornes on his head,
and say, get you to heauen Beatrice, get you to heauen,
heere's no place for you maids, so deliuer I vp my Apes,
and away to S[aint]. Peter: for the heauens, hee shewes mee
where the Batchellers sit, and there liue wee as merry as
the day is long

   Brother. Well neece, I trust you will be rul'd by your
father

   Beatrice. Yes faith, it is my cosens dutie to make curtsie,
and say, as it please you: but yet for all that cosin, let
him be a handsome fellow, or else make an other cursie,
and say, father, as it please me

   Leonato. Well neece, I hope to see you one day fitted
with a husband

   Beatrice. Not till God make men of some other mettall
then earth, would it not grieue a woman to be ouermastred
with a peece of valiant dust: to make account of
her life to a clod of waiward marle? no vnckle, ile none:
Adams sonnes are my brethren, and truly I hold it a sinne
to match in my kinred

   Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you, if the
Prince doe solicit you in that kinde, you know your answere

   Beatrice. The fault will be in the musicke cosin, if you
be not woed in good time: if the Prince bee too important,
tell him there is measure in euery thing, & so dance
out the answere, for heare me Hero, wooing, wedding, &
repenting, is as a Scotch jigge, a measure, and a cinquepace:
the first suite is hot and hasty like a Scotch jigge
(and full as fantasticall) the wedding manerly modest,
(as a measure) full of state & aunchentry, and then comes
repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinquepace
faster and faster, till he sinkes into his graue

   Leonato. Cosin you apprehend passing shrewdly

   Beatrice. I haue a good eye vnckle, I can see a Church
by daylight

   Leon. The reuellers are entring brother, make good
roome.
Enter Prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedicke, and Balthasar, or
dumbe Iohn,
Maskers with a drum.

  Pedro. Lady, will you walke about with your friend?
  Hero. So you walke softly, and looke sweetly, and say
nothing, I am yours for the walke, and especially when I
walke away

   Pedro. With me in your company

   Hero. I may say so when I please

   Pedro. And when please you to say so?
  Hero. When I like your fauour, for God defend the
Lute should be like the case

   Pedro. My visor is Philemons roofe, within the house
is Loue

   Hero. Why then your visor should be thatcht

   Pedro. Speake low if you speake Loue

   Bene. Well, I would you did like me

   Mar. So would not I for your owne sake, for I haue
manie ill qualities

   Bene. Which is one?
  Mar. I say my prayers alowd

   Ben. I loue you the better, the hearers may cry Amen

   Mar. God match me with a good dauncer

   Balt. Amen

   Mar. And God keepe him out of my sight when the
daunce is done: answer Clarke

   Balt. No more words, the Clarke is answered

   Vrsula. I know you well enough, you are Signior Anthonio

   Anth. At a word, I am not

   Vrsula. I know you by the wagling of your head

   Anth. To tell you true, I counterfet him

   Vrsu. You could neuer doe him so ill well, vnlesse
you were the very man: here's his dry hand vp & down,
you are he, you are he

   Anth. At a word I am not

   Vrsula. Come, come, doe you thinke I doe not know
you by your excellent wit? can vertue hide it selfe? goe
to mumme, you are he, graces will appeare, and there's
an end

   Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so?
  Bene. No, you shall pardon me

   Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are?
  Bened. Not now

   Beat. That I was disdainfull, and that I had my good
wit out of the hundred merry tales: well, this was Signior
Benedicke that said so

   Bene. What's he?
  Beat. I am sure you know him well enough

   Bene. Not I, beleeue me

   Beat. Did he neuer make you laugh?
  Bene. I pray you what is he?
  Beat. Why he is the Princes ieaster, a very dull foole,
onely his gift is, in deuising impossible slanders, none
but Libertines delight in him, and the commendation is
not in his witte, but in his villanie, for hee both pleaseth
men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and
beat him: I am sure he is in the Fleet, I would he had
boorded me

   Bene. When I know the Gentleman, Ile tell him what
you say

   Beat. Do, do, hee'l but breake a comparison or two
on me, which peraduenture (not markt, or not laugh'd
at) strikes him into melancholly, and then there's a Partridge
wing saued, for the foole will eate no supper that
night. We must follow the Leaders

   Ben. In euery good thing

   Bea. Nay, if they leade to any ill, I will leaue them
at the next turning.

Exeunt.

Musicke for the dance.

  Iohn. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath
withdrawne her father to breake with him about it: the
Ladies follow her, and but one visor remaines

   Borachio. And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing

   Iohn. Are not you signior Benedicke?
  Clau. You know me well, I am hee

   Iohn. Signior, you are verie neere my Brother in his
loue, he is enamor'd on Hero, I pray you disswade him
from her, she is no equall for his birth: you may do the
part of an honest man in it

   Claudio. How know you he loues her?
  Iohn. I heard him sweare his affection

   Bor. So did I too, and he swore he would marrie her
to night

   Iohn. Come, let vs to the banquet.

Ex. manet Clau.

  Clau. Thus answere I in name of Benedicke,
But heare these ill newes with the eares of Claudio:
'Tis certaine so, the Prince woes for himselfe:
Friendship is constant in all other things,
Saue in the Office and affaires of loue:
Therefore all hearts in loue vse their owne tongues.
Let euerie eye negotiate for it selfe,
And trust no Agent: for beautie is a witch,
Against whose charmes, faith melteth into blood:
This is an accident of hourely proofe,
Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore Hero.
Enter Benedicke.

  Ben. Count Claudio

   Clau. Yea, the same

   Ben. Come, will you goe with me?
  Clau. Whither?
  Ben. Euen to the next Willow, about your own businesse,
Count. What fashion will you weare the Garland
off? About your necke, like an Vsurers chaine? Or
vnder your arme, like a Lieutenants scarfe? You must
weare it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero

   Clau . I wish him ioy of her

   Ben. Why that's spoken like an honest Drouier, so
they sel Bullockes: but did you thinke the Prince wold
haue serued you thus?
  Clau. I pray you leaue me

   Ben. Ho now you strike like the blindman, 'twas the
boy that stole your meate, and you'l beat the post

   Clau. If it will not be, Ile leaue you.
Enter.

  Ben. Alas poore hurt fowle, now will he creepe into
sedges: But that my Ladie Beatrice should know me, &
not know me: the Princes foole! Hah? It may be I goe
vnder that title, because I am merrie: yea but so I am
apt to do my selfe wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the
base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that putt's
the world into her person, and so giues me out: well, Ile
be reuenged as I may.
Enter the Prince.

  Pedro. Now Signior, where's the Count, did you
see him?
  Bene. Troth my Lord, I haue played the part of Lady
Fame, I found him heere as melancholy as a Lodge in a
Warren, I told him, and I thinke, told him true, that your
grace had got the will of this young Lady, and I offered
him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a
garland, as being forsaken, or to binde him a rod, as being
worthy to be whipt

   Pedro. To be whipt, what's his fault?
  Bene. The flat transgression of a Schoole-boy, who
being ouer-ioyed with finding a birds nest, shewes it his
companion, and he steales it

   Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the
transgression is in the stealer

   Ben. Yet it had not been amisse the rod had beene
made, and the garland too, for the garland he might haue
worne himselfe, and the rod hee might haue bestowed on
you, who (as I take it) haue stolne his birds nest

   Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them
to the owner

   Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith
you say honestly

   Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrell to you, the
Gentleman that daunst with her, told her shee is much
wrong'd by you

   Bene. O she misusde me past the indurance of a block:
an oake but with one greene leafe on it, would haue answered
her: my very visor began to assume life, and scold
with her: shee told mee, not thinking I had beene my
selfe, that I was the Princes Iester, and that I was duller
then a great thaw, hudling iest vpon iest, with such impossible
conueiance vpon me, that I stood like a man at a
marke, with a whole army shooting at me: shee speakes
poynyards, and euery word stabbes: if her breath were
as terrible as terminations, there were no liuing neere
her, she would infect to the north starre: I would not
marry her, though she were indowed with all that Adam
had left him before he transgrest, she would haue made
  Hercules haue turnd spit, yea, and haue cleft his club to
make the fire too: come, talke not of her, you shall finde
her the infernall Ate in good apparell. I would to God
some scholler would coniure her, for certainely while she
is heere, a man may liue as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary,
and people sinne vpon purpose, because they would goe
thither, so indeed all disquiet, horror, and perturbation
followes her.
Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero.

  Pedro. Looke heere she comes

   Bene. Will your Grace command mee any seruice to
the worlds end? I will goe on the slightest arrand now
to the Antypodes that you can deuise to send me on: I
will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch
of Asia: bring you the length of Prester Iohns foot: fetch
you a hayre off the great Chams beard: doe you any embassage
to the Pigmies, rather then hould three words
conference, with this Harpy: you haue no employment
for me?
  Pedro. None, but to desire your good company

   Bene. O God sir, heeres a dish I loue not, I cannot indure
this Lady tongue.
Enter.

  Pedr. Come Lady, come, you haue lost the heart of
Signior Benedicke

   Beatr. Indeed my Lord, hee lent it me a while, and I
gaue him vse for it, a double heart for a single one, marry
once before he wonne it of mee, with false dice, therefore
your Grace may well say I haue lost it

   Pedro. You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put
him downe

   Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest
I should prooue the mother of fooles: I haue brought
Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seeke

   Pedro. Why how now Count, wherfore are you sad?
  Claud. Not sad my Lord

   Pedro. How then? sicke?
  Claud. Neither, my Lord

   Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor sicke, nor merry,
nor well: but ciuill Count, ciuill as an Orange, and something
of a iealous complexion

   Pedro. Ifaith Lady, I thinke your blazon to be true.
though Ile be sworne, if hee be so, his conceit is false:
heere Claudio, I haue wooed in thy name, and faire Hero
is won, I haue broke with her father, and his good will
obtained, name the day of marriage, and God giue
thee ioy

   Leona. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her
my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, & all grace
say, Amen to it

   Beatr. Speake Count, tis your Qu

   Claud. Silence is the perfectest Herault of ioy, I were
but little happy if I could say, how much? Lady, as you
are mine, I am yours, I giue away my selfe for you, and
doat vpon the exchange

   Beat. Speake cosin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth
with a kisse, and let not him speake neither

   Pedro. In faith Lady you haue a merry heart

   Beatr. Yea my Lord I thanke it, poore foole it keepes
on the windy side of Care, my coosin tells him in his eare
that he is in my heart

   Clau. And so she doth coosin

   Beat. Good Lord for alliance: thus goes euery one
to the world but I, and I am sun-burn'd, I may sit in a corner
and cry, heigh ho for a husband

   Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one

   Beat. I would rather haue one of your fathers getting:
hath your Grace ne're a brother like you? your father
got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them

   Prince. Will you haue me? Lady

   Beat. No, my Lord, vnlesse I might haue another for
working-daies, your Grace is too costly to weare euerie
day: but I beseech your Grace pardon mee, I was borne
to speake all mirth, and no matter

   Prince. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry,
best becomes you, for out of question, you were born
in a merry howre

   Beatr. No sure my Lord, my Mother cried, but then
there was a starre daunst, and vnder that was I borne: cosins
God giue you ioy

   Leonato. Neece, will you looke to those things I told
you of?
  Beat. I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon.

Exit Beatrice.

  Prince. By my troth a pleasant spirited Lady

   Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her
my Lord, she is neuer sad, but when she sleepes, and not
euer sad then: for I haue heard my daughter say, she hath
often dreamt of vnhappinesse, and wakt her selfe with
laughing

   Pedro. Shee cannot indure to heare tell of a husband

   Leonato. O, by no meanes, she mocks all her wooers
out of suite

   Prince. She were an excellent wife for Benedick

   Leonato. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a weeke
married, they would talke themselues madde

   Prince. Counte Claudio, when meane you to goe to
Church?
  Clau. To morrow my Lord, Time goes on crutches,
till Loue haue all his rites

   Leonato. Not till monday, my deare sonne, which is
hence a iust seuen night, and a time too briefe too, to haue
all things answer minde

   Prince. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing,
but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not goe
dully by vs, I will in the interim, vndertake one of Hercules
labors, which is, to bring Signior Benedicke and the
Lady Beatrice into a mountaine of affection, th' one with
th' other, I would faine haue it a match, and I doubt not
but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance
as I shall giue you direction

   Leonato. My Lord, I am for you, though it cost mee
ten nights watchings

   Claud. And I my Lord

   Prin. And you to gentle Hero?
  Hero. I will doe any modest office, my Lord, to helpe
my cosin to a good husband

   Prin. And Benedick is not the vnhopefullest husband
that I know: thus farre can I praise him, hee is of a noble
straine, of approued valour, and confirm'd honesty, I will
teach you how to humour your cosin, that shee shall fall
in loue with Benedicke, and I, with your two helpes, will
so practise on Benedicke, that in despight of his quicke
wit, and his queasie stomacke, hee shall fall in loue with
Beatrice: if wee can doe this, Cupid is no longer an Archer,
his glory shall be ours, for wee are the onely louegods,
goe in with me, and I will tell you my drift.
Enter.

Enter Iohn and Borachio.

  Ioh. It is so, the Count Claudio shal marry the daughter
of Leonato

   Bora. Yea my Lord, but I can crosse it

   Iohn. Any barre, any crosse, any impediment, will be
medicinable to me, I am sicke in displeasure to him, and
whatsoeuer comes athwart his affection, ranges euenly
with mine, how canst thou crosse this marriage?
  Bor. Not honestly my Lord, but so couertly, that no
dishonesty shall appeare in me

   Iohn. Shew me breefely how

   Bor. I thinke I told your Lordship a yeere since, how
much I am in the fauour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman
to Hero

   Iohn. I remember

   Bor. I can at any vnseasonable instant of the night,
appoint her to looke out at her Ladies chamber window

   Iohn. What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?
  Bor. The poyson of that lies in you to temper, goe
you to the Prince your brother, spare not to tell him, that
hee hath wronged his Honor in marrying the renowned
Claudio, whose estimation do you mightily hold vp, to a
contaminated stale, such a one as Hero

   Iohn. What proofe shall I make of that?
  Bor. Proofe enough, to misuse the Prince, to vexe
Claudio, to vndoe Hero, and kill Leonato, looke you for any
other issue?
  Iohn. Onely to despight them, I will endeauour any
thing

   Bor. Goe then, finde me a meete howre, to draw on
Pedro and the Count Claudio alone, tell them that you
know that Hero loues me, intend a kinde of zeale both
to the Prince and Claudio (as in a loue of your brothers
honor who hath made this match) and his friends reputation,
who is thus like to be cosen'd with the semblance
of a maid, that you haue discouer'd thus: they will scarcely
beleeue this without triall: offer them instances which
shall beare no lesse likelihood, than to see mee at her
chamber window, heare me call Margaret, Hero; heare
Margaret terme me Claudio, and bring them to see this
the very night before the intended wedding, for in the
meane time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall
be absent, and there shall appeare such seeming truths of
Heroes disloyaltie, that iealousie shall be cal'd assurance,
and all the preparation ouerthrowne

   Iohn. Grow this to what aduerse issue it can, I will
put it in practise: be cunning in the working this, and
thy fee is a thousand ducates

   Bor. Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning
shall not shame me

   Iohn. I will presentlie goe learne their day of marriage.
Enter.

Enter Benedicke alone.

  Bene. Boy

   Boy. Signior

   Bene. In my chamber window lies a booke, bring it
hither to me in the orchard

   Boy. I am heere already sir.
Enter.

  Bene. I know that, but I would haue thee hence, and
heere againe. I doe much wonder, that one man seeing
how much another man is a foole, when he dedicates his
behauiours to loue, will after hee hath laught at such
shallow follies in others, become the argument of his
owne scorne, by falling in loue, & such a man is Claudio.
I haue known when there was no musicke with him but
the drum and the fife, and now had hee rather heare the
taber and the pipe: I haue knowne when he would haue
walkt ten mile afoot, to see a good armor, and now will
he lie ten nights awake caruing the fashion of a new dublet:
he was wont to speake plaine, & to the purpose (like
an honest man & a souldier) and now is he turn'd orthography,
his words are a very fantasticall banquet, iust so
many strange dishes: may I be so conuerted, & see with
these eyes? I cannot tell, I thinke not: I will not bee
sworne, but loue may transforme me to an oyster, but Ile
take my oath on it, till he haue made an oyster of me, he
shall neuer make me such a foole: one woman is faire, yet
I am well: another is wise, yet I am well: another vertuous,
yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman,
one woman shall not come in my grace: rich shee shall
be, that's certaine: wise, or Ile none: vertuous, or Ile neuer
cheapen her: faire, or Ile neuer looke on her: milde,
or come not neere me: Noble, or not for an Angell: of
good discourse: an excellent Musitian, and her haire shal
be of what colour it please God, hah! the Prince and
Monsieur Loue, I will hide me in the Arbor.
Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Iacke Wilson.

  Prin. Come, shall we heare this musicke?
  Claud. Yea my good Lord: how still the euening is.
As husht on purpose to grace harmonie

   Prin. See you where Benedicke hath hid himselfe?
  Clau. O very well my Lord: the musicke ended,
Wee'll fit the kid-foxe with a penny worth

   Prince. Come Balthasar, wee'll heare that song again

   Balth. O good my Lord, taxe not so bad a voyce,
To slander musicke any more then once

   Prin. It is the witnesse still of excellency,
To slander Musicke any more then once

   Prince. It is the witnesse still of excellencie,
To put a strange face on his owne perfection,
I pray thee sing, and let me woe no more

   Balth. Because you talke of wooing, I will sing,
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit,
To her he thinkes not worthy, yet he wooes,
Yet will he sweare he loues

   Prince. Nay pray thee come,
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Doe it in notes

   Balth. Note this before my notes,
Theres not a note of mine that's worth the noting

   Prince. Why these are very crotchets that he speaks,
Note notes forsooth, and nothing

   Bene. Now diuine aire, now is his soule rauisht, is it
not strange that sheepes guts should hale soules out of
mens bodies? well, a horne for my money when all's
done.

The Song.

Sigh no more Ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceiuers euer,
One foote in Sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant neuer,
Then sigh not so, but let them goe,
And be you blithe and bonnie,
Conuerting all your sounds of woe,
Into hey nony nony.
Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
Of dumps so dull and heauy,
The fraud of men were euer so,
Since summer first was leauy,
Then sigh not so, &c

   Prince. By my troth a good song

   Balth. And an ill singer, my Lord

   Prince. Ha, no, no faith, thou singst well enough for a
shift

   Ben. And he had been a dog that should haue howld
thus, they would haue hang'd him, and I pray God his
bad voyce bode no mischiefe, I had as liefe haue heard
the night-rauen, come what plague could haue come after
it

   Prince. Yea marry, dost thou heare Balthasar? I pray
thee get vs some excellent musick: for to morrow night
we would haue it at the Lady Heroes chamber window

   Balth. The best I can, my Lord.

Exit Balthasar.

  Prince. Do so, farewell. Come hither Leonato, what
was it you told me of to day, that your Niece Beatrice
was in loue with signior Benedicke?
  Cla. O I, stalke on, stalke on, the foule sits. I did neuer
thinke that Lady would haue loued any man

   Leon. No, nor I neither, but most wonderful, that she
should so dote on Signior Benedicke, whom shee hath in
all outward behauiours seemed euer to abhorre

   Bene. Is't possible? sits the winde in that corner?
  Leo. By my troth my Lord, I cannot tell what to
thinke of it, but that she loues him with an inraged affection,
it is past the infinite of thought

   Prince. May be she doth but counterfeit

   Claud. Faith like enough

   Leon. O God! counterfeit? there was neuer counterfeit
of passion, came so neere the life of passion as she discouers
it

   Prince. Why what effects of passion shewes she?
  Claud. Baite the hooke well, this fish will bite

   Leon. What effects my Lord? shee will sit you, you
heard my daughter tell you how

   Clau. She did indeed

   Prince. How, how I pray you? you amaze me, I would
haue thought her spirit had beene inuincible against all
assaults of affection

   Leo. I would haue sworne it had, my Lord, especially
against Benedicke

   Bene. I should thinke this a gull, but that the whitebearded
fellow speakes it: knauery cannot sure hide
himselfe in such reuerence

   Claud. He hath tane th' infection, hold it vp

   Prince. Hath shee made her affection known to Benedicke:
  Leonato. No, and sweares she neuer will, that's her
torment

   Claud. 'Tis true indeed, so your daughter saies: shall
I, saies she, that haue so oft encountred him with scorne,
write to him that I loue him?
  Leo. This saies shee now when shee is beginning to
write to him, for shee'll be vp twenty times a night, and
there will she sit in her smocke, till she haue writ a sheet
of paper: my daughter tells vs all

   Clau. Now you talke of a sheet of paper, I remember
a pretty iest your daughter told vs of

   Leon. O when she had writ it, & was reading it ouer,
she found Benedicke and Beatrice betweene the sheete

   Clau. That

   Leon. O she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence,
raild at her self, that she should be so immodest to write,
to one that shee knew would flout her: I measure him,
saies she, by my owne spirit, for I should flout him if hee
writ to mee, yea though I loue him, I should

   Clau. Then downe vpon her knees she falls, weepes,
sobs, beates her heart, teares her hayre, praies, curses, O
sweet Benedicke, God giue me patience

   Leon. She doth indeed, my daughter saies so, and the
extasie hath so much ouerborne her, that my daughter is
somtime afeard she will doe a desperate out-rage to her
selfe, it is very true

   Prince. It were good that Benedicke knew of it by some
other, if she will not discouer it

   Clau. To what end? he would but make a sport of it,
and torment the poore Lady worse

   Prin. And he should, it were an almes to hang him,
shee's an excellent sweet Lady, and (out of all suspition,)
she is vertuous

   Claudio. And she is exceeding wise

   Prince. In euery thing, but in louing Benedicke

   Leon. O my Lord, wisedome and bloud combating in
so tender a body, we haue ten proofes to one, that bloud
hath the victory, I am sorry for her, as I haue iust cause,
being her Vncle, and her Guardian

   Prince. I would shee had bestowed this dotage on
mee, I would haue daft all other respects, and made her
halfe my selfe: I pray you tell Benedicke of it, and heare
what he will say

   Leon. Were it good thinke you?
  Clau. Hero thinkes surely she wil die, for she saies she
will die, if hee loue her not, and shee will die ere shee
make her loue knowne, and she will die if hee wooe her,
rather than shee will bate one breath of her accustomed
crossenesse

   Prince. She doth well, if she should make tender of her
loue, 'tis very possible hee'l scorne it, for the man (as you
know all) hath a contemptible spirit

   Clau. He is a very proper man

   Prin. He hath indeed a good outward happines

   Clau. 'Fore God, and in my minde very wise

   Prin. He doth indeed shew some sparkes that are like
wit

   Leon. And I take him to be valiant

   Prin. As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing of
quarrels you may see hee is wise, for either hee auoydes
them with great discretion, or vndertakes them with a
Christian-like feare

   Leon. If hee doe feare God, a must necessarilie keepe
peace, if hee breake the peace, hee ought to enter into a
quarrell with feare and trembling

   Prin. And so will he doe, for the man doth fear God,
howsoeuer it seemes not in him, by some large ieasts hee
will make: well, I am sorry for your niece, shall we goe
see Benedicke, and tell him of her loue

   Claud. Neuer tell him, my Lord, let her weare it out
with good counsell

   Leon. Nay that's impossible, she may weare her heart
out first

   Prin. Well, we will heare further of it by your daughter,
let it coole the while, I loue Benedicke well, and I
could wish he would modestly examine himselfe, to see
how much he is vnworthy to haue so good a Lady

   Leon. My Lord, will you walke? dinner is ready

   Clau. If he do not doat on her vpon this, I wil neuer
trust my expectation

   Prin. Let there be the same Net spread for her, and
that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry:
the sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of anothers
dotage, and no such matter, that's the Scene that I
would see, which will be meerely a dumbe shew: let vs
send her to call him into dinner.

Exeunt.

  Bene. This can be no tricke, the conference was sadly
borne, they haue the truth of this from Hero, they seeme
to pittie the Lady: it seemes her affections haue the full
bent: loue me? why it must be requited: I heare how I
am censur'd, they say I will beare my selfe proudly, if I
perceiue the loue come from her: they say too, that she
will rather die than giue any signe of affection: I did neuer
thinke to marry, I must not seeme proud, happy are
they that heare their detractions, and can put them to
mending: they say the Lady is faire, 'tis a truth, I can
beare them witnesse: and vertuous, tis so, I cannot reprooue
it, and wise, but for louing me, by my troth it is
no addition to her witte, nor no great argument of her
folly; for I wil be horribly in loue with her, I may chance
haue some odde quirkes and remnants of witte broken
on mee, because I haue rail'd so long against marriage:
but doth not the appetite alter? a man loues the meat in
his youth, that he cannot indure in his age. Shall quips
and sentences, and these paper bullets of the braine awe
a man from the careere of his humour? No, the world
must be peopled. When I said I would die a batcheler, I
did not think I should liue till I were maried, here comes
Beatrice: by this day, shee's a faire Lady, I doe spie some
markes of loue in her.
Enter Beatrice.

  Beat. Against my wil I am sent to bid you come in to
dinner

   Bene. Faire Beatrice, I thanke you for your paines

   Beat. I tooke no more paines for those thankes, then
you take paines to thanke me, if it had been painefull, I
would not haue come

   Bene. You take pleasure then in the message

   Beat. Yea iust so much as you may take vpon a kniues
point, and choake a daw withall: you haue no stomacke
signior, fare you well.
Enter.

  Bene. Ha, against my will I am sent to bid you come
into dinner: there's a double meaning in that: I tooke
no more paines for those thankes then you took paines
to thanke me, that's as much as to say, any paines that I
take for you is as easie as thankes: if I do not take pitty
of her I am a villaine, if I doe not loue her I am a Iew, I
will goe get her picture.
Enter.


Actus Tertius.

Enter Hero and two Gentlemen, Margaret, and Vrsula.

  Hero. Good Margaret runne thee to the parlour,
There shalt thou finde my Cosin Beatrice,
Proposing with the Prince and Claudio,
Whisper her eare, and tell her I and Vrsula,
Walke in the Orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her, say that thou ouer-heardst vs,
And bid her steale into the pleached bower,
Where hony-suckles ripened by the sunne,
Forbid the sunne to enter: like fauourites,
Made proud by Princes, that aduance their pride,
Against that power that bred it, there will she hide her,
To listen our purpose, this is thy office,
Beare thee well in it, and leaue vs alone

   Marg. Ile make her come I warrant you presently

   Hero. Now Vrsula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley vp and downe,
Our talke must onely be of Benedicke,
When I doe name him, let it be thy part,
To praise him more then euer man did merit,
My talke to thee must be how Benedicke
Is sicke in loue with Beatrice; of this matter,
Is little Cupids crafty arrow made,
That onely wounds by heare-say: now begin,
Enter Beatrice.

For looke where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs
Close by the ground, to heare our conference

   Vrs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden ores the siluer streame,
And greedily deuoure the treacherous baite:
So angle we for Beatrice, who euen now,
Is couched in the wood-bine couerture,
Feare you not my part of the Dialogue

   Her. Then go we neare her that her eare loose nothing,
Of the false sweete baite that we lay for it:
No truely Vrsula, she is too disdainfull,
I know her spirits are as coy and wilde,
As Haggerds of the rocke

   Vrsula. But are you sure,
That Benedicke loues Beatrice so intirely?
  Her. So saies the Prince, and my new trothed Lord

   Vrs. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam?
  Her. They did intreate me to acquaint her of it,
But I perswaded them, if they lou'd Benedicke,
To wish him wrastle with affection,
And neuer to let Beatrice know of it

   Vrsula. Why did you so, doth not the Gentleman
Deserue as full as fortunate a bed,
As euer Beatrice shall couch vpon?
  Hero. O God of loue! I know he doth deserue,
As much as may be yeelded to a man:
But Nature neuer fram'd a womans heart,
Of prowder stuffe then that of Beatrice:
Disdaine and Scorne ride sparkling in her eyes,
Mis-prizing what they looke on, and her wit
Values it selfe so highly, that to her
All matter else seemes weake: she cannot loue,
Nor take no shape nor proiect of affection,
Shee is so selfe indeared

   Vrsula. Sure I thinke so,
And therefore certainely it were not good
She knew his loue, lest she make sport at it

   Hero. Why you speake truth, I neuer yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, yong, how rarely featur'd.
But she would spell him backward: if faire fac'd,
She would sweare the gentleman should be her sister:
If blacke, why Nature drawing of an anticke,
Made a foule blot: if tall, a launce ill headed:
If low, an agot very vildlie cut:
If speaking, why a vane blowne with all windes:
If silent, why a blocke moued with none.
So turnes she euery man the wrong side out,
And neuer giues to Truth and Vertue, that
Which simplenesse and merit purchaseth

   Vrsu. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable

   Hero. No, not to be so odde, and from all fashions,
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable,
But who dare tell her so? if I should speake,
She would mocke me into ayre, O she would laugh me
Out of my selfe, presse me to death with wit,
Therefore let Benedicke like couered fire,
Consume away in sighes, waste inwardly:
It were a better death, to die with mockes,
Which is as bad as die with tickling

   Vrsu. Yet tell her of it, heare what shee will say

   Hero. No, rather I will goe to Benedicke,
And counsaile him to fight against his passion,
And truly Ile deuise some honest slanders,
To staine my cosin with, one doth not know,
How much an ill word may impoison liking

   Vrsu. O doe not doe your cosin such a wrong,
She cannot be so much without true iudgement,
Hauing so swift and excellent a wit
As she is prisde to haue, as to refuse
So rare a Gentleman as signior Benedicke

   Hero. He is the onely man of Italy,
Alwaies excepted, my deare Claudio

   Vrsu. I pray you be not angry with me, Madame,
Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedicke,
For shape, for bearing argument and valour,
Goes formost in report through Italy

   Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name

   Vrsu. His excellence did earne it ere he had it:
When are you married Madame?
  Hero. Why euerie day to morrow, come goe in,
Ile shew thee some attires, and haue thy counsell,
Which is the best to furnish me to morrow

   Vrsu. Shee's tane I warrant you,
We haue caught her Madame?
  Hero. If it proue so, then louing goes by haps,
Some Cupid kills with arrowes, some with traps.
Enter.

  Beat. What fire is in mine eares? can this be true?
Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorne so much?
Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adew,
No glory liues behinde the backe of such.
And Benedicke, loue on, I will requite thee,
Taming my wilde heart to thy louing hand:
If thou dost loue, my kindnesse shall incite thee
To binde our loues vp in a holy band.
For others say thou dost deserue, and I
Beleeue it better then reportingly.
Enter.

Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedicke, and Leonato.

  Prince. I doe but stay till your marriage be consummate,
and then go I toward Arragon

   Clau. Ile bring you thither my Lord, if you'l vouchsafe
me

   Prin. Nay, that would be as great a soyle in the new
glosse of your marriage, as to shew a childe his new coat
and forbid him to weare it, I will onely bee bold with
Benedicke for his companie, for from the crowne of his
head, to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth, he hath twice
or thrice cut Cupids bow-string, and the little hang-man
dare not shoot at him, he hath a heart as sound as a bell,
and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinkes,
his tongue speakes

   Bene. Gallants, I am not as I haue bin

   Leo. So say I, methinkes you are sadder

   Claud. I hope he be in loue

   Prin. Hang him truant, there's no true drop of bloud
in him to be truly toucht with loue, if he be sad, he wants
money

   Bene. I haue the tooth-ach

   Prin. Draw it

   Bene. Hang it

   Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards

   Prin. What? sigh for the tooth-ach

   Leon. Where is but a humour or a worme

   Bene. Well, euery one cannot master a griefe, but hee
that has it

   Clau. Yet say I, he is in loue

   Prin. There is no appearance of fancie in him, vnlesse
it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to bee a
Dutchman to day, a Frenchman to morrow: vnlesse hee
haue a fancy to this foolery, as it appeares hee hath, hee
is no foole for fancy, as you would haue it to appeare
he is

   Clau. If he be not in loue with some woman, there
is no beleeuing old signes, a brushes his hat a mornings,
What should that bode?
  Prin. Hath any man seene him at the Barbers?
  Clau. No, but the Barbers man hath beene seen with
him, and the olde ornament of his cheeke hath alreadie
stuft tennis balls

   Leon. Indeed he lookes yonger than hee did, by the
losse of a beard

   Prin. Nay a rubs himselfe with Ciuit, can you smell
him out by that?
  Clau. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in
loue

   Prin. The greatest note of it is his melancholy

   Clau. And when was he wont to wash his face?
  Prin. Yea, or to paint himselfe? for the which I heare
what they say of him

   Clau. Nay, but his iesting spirit, which is now crept
into a lute-string, and now gouern'd by stops

   Prin. Indeed that tels a heauy tale for him: conclude,
he is in loue

   Clau. Nay, but I know who loues him

   Prince. That would I know too, I warrant one that
knowes him not

   Cla. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all,
dies for him

   Prin. Shee shall be buried with her face vpwards

   Bene. Yet is this no charme for the tooth-ake, old signior,
walke aside with mee, I haue studied eight or nine
wise words to speake to you, which these hobby-horses
must not heare

   Prin. For my life to breake with him about Beatrice

   Clau. 'Tis euen so, Hero and Margaret haue by this
played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two Beares
will not bite one another when they meete.
Enter Iohn the Bastard.

  Bast. My Lord and brother, God saue you

   Prin. Good den brother

   Bast. If your leisure seru'd, I would speake with you

   Prince. In priuate?
  Bast. If it please you, yet Count Claudio may heare,
for what I would speake of, concernes him

   Prin. What's the matter?
  Basta. Meanes your Lordship to be married to morrow?
  Prin. You know he does

   Bast. I know not that when he knowes what I know

   Clau. If there be any impediment, I pray you discouer
it

   Bast. You may thinke I loue you not, let that appeare
hereafter, and ayme better at me by that I now will manifest,
for my brother (I thinke, he holds you well, and in
dearenesse of heart) hath holpe to effect your ensuing
marriage: surely sute ill spent, and labour ill bestowed

   Prin. Why, what's the matter?
  Bastard. I came hither to tell you, and circumstances
shortned, (for she hath beene too long a talking of) the
Lady is disloyall

   Clau. Who Hero?
  Bast. Euen shee, Leonatoes Hero, your Hero, euery
mans Hero

   Clau. Disloyall?
  Bast. The word is too good to paint out her wickednesse,
I could say she were worse, thinke you of a worse
title, and I will fit her to it: wonder not till further warrant:
goe but with mee to night, you shal see her chamber
window entred, euen the night before her wedding
day, if you loue her, then to morrow wed her: But it
would better fit your honour to change your minde

   Claud. May this be so?
  Princ. I will not thinke it

   Bast. If you dare not trust that you see, confesse not
that you know: if you will follow mee, I will shew you
enough, and when you haue seene more, & heard more,
proceed accordingly

   Clau. If I see any thing to night, why I should not
marry her to morrow in the congregation, where I shold
wedde, there will I shame her

   Prin. And as I wooed for thee to obtaine her, I will
ioyne with thee to disgrace her

   Bast. I will disparage her no farther, till you are my
witnesses, beare it coldly but till night, and let the issue
shew it selfe

   Prin. O day vntowardly turned!
  Claud. O mischiefe strangelie thwarting!
  Bastard. O plague right well preuented! so will you
say, when you haue seene the sequele.
Enter.

Enter Dogbery and his compartner with the watch.

  Dog. Are you good men and true?
  Verg. Yea, or else it were pitty but they should suffer
saluation body and soule

   Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for
them, if they should haue any allegiance in them, being
chosen for the Princes watch

   Verges. Well, giue them their charge, neighbour
Dogbery

   Dog. First, who thinke you the most desartlesse man
to be Constable

   Watch.1. Hugh Ote-cake sir, or George Sea-coale, for
they can write and reade

   Dogb. Come hither neighbour Sea-coale, God hath
blest you with a good name: to be a wel-fauoured man,
is the gift of Fortune, but to write and reade, comes by
Nature

   Watch 2. Both which Master Constable
  Dogb. You haue: I knew it would be your answere:
well, for your fauour sir, why giue God thankes, & make
no boast of it, and for your writing and reading, let that
appeare when there is no need of such vanity, you are
thought heere to be the most senslesse and fit man for the
Constable of the watch: therefore beare you the lanthorne:
this is your charge: You shall comprehend all
vagrom men, you are to bid any man stand in the Princes
name

   Watch 2. How if a will not stand?
  Dogb. Why then take no note of him, but let him go,
and presently call the rest of the Watch together, and
thanke God you are ridde of a knaue

   Verges. If he will not stand when he is bidden, hee is
none of the Princes subiects

   Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but
the Princes subiects: you shall also make no noise in the
streetes: for, for the Watch to babble and talke, is most
tollerable, and not to be indured

   Watch. We will rather sleepe than talke, wee know
what belongs to a Watch

   Dog. Why you speake like an ancient and most quiet
watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend:
only haue a care that your bills be not stolne: well, you
are to call at all the Alehouses, and bid them that are
drunke get them to bed

   Watch. How if they will not?
  Dogb. Why then let them alone till they are sober, if
they make you not then the better answere, you may say,
they are not the men you tooke them for

   Watch. Well sir,
  Dogb. If you meet a theefe, you may suspect him, by
vertue of your office, to be no true man: and for such
kinde of men, the lesse you meddle or make with them,
why the more is for your honesty

   Watch. If wee know him to be a thiefe, shall wee not
lay hands on him

   Dogb. Truly by your office you may, but I think they
that touch pitch will be defil'd: the most peaceable way
for you, if you doe take a theefe, is, to let him shew himselfe
what he is, and steale out of your company

   Ver. You haue bin alwaies cal'd a merciful ma[n] partner

   Dog. Truely I would not hang a dog by my will, much
more a man who hath anie honestie in him

   Verges. If you heare a child crie in the night you must
call to the nurse, and bid her still it

   Watch. How if the nurse be asleepe and will not
heare vs?
  Dog. Why then depart in peace, and let the childe
wake her with crying, for the ewe that will not heare
her Lambe when it baes, will neuer answere a calfe when
he bleates

   Verges. 'Tis verie true

   Dog. This is the end of the charge: you constable
are to present the Princes owne person, if you meete the
Prince in the night, you may staie him

   Verges. Nay birladie that I thinke a cannot

   Dog. Fiue shillings to one on't with anie man that
knowes the Statutes, he may staie him, marrie not without
the prince be willing, for indeed the watch ought to
offend no man, and it is an offence to stay a man against
his will

   Verges. Birladie I thinke it be so

   Dog. Ha, ah ha, well masters good night, and there be
anie matter of weight chances, call vp me, keepe your
fellowes counsailes, and your owne, and good night,
come neighbour

   Watch. Well masters, we heare our charge, let vs go
sit here vpon the Church bench till two, and then all to
bed

   Dog. One word more, honest neighbors. I pray you
watch about signior Leonatoes doore, for the wedding being
there to morrow, there is a great coyle to night,
adiew, be vigitant I beseech you.

Exeunt.

Enter Borachio and Conrade.

  Bor. What, Conrade?
  Watch. Peace, stir not

   Bor. Conrade I say

   Con. Here man, I am at thy elbow

   Bor. Mas and my elbow itcht, I thought there would
a scabbe follow

   Con. I will owe thee an answere for that, and now
forward with thy tale

   Bor. Stand thee close then vnder this penthouse, for it
drissels raine, and I will, like a true drunkard, vtter all to
thee

   Watch. Some treason masters, yet stand close

   Bor. Therefore know, I haue earned of Don Iohn a
thousand Ducates

   Con. Is it possible that anie villanie should be so deare?
  Bor. Thou should'st rather aske if it were possible anie
villanie should be so rich? for when rich villains haue
neede of poore ones, poore ones may make what price
they will

   Con. I wonder at it

   Bor. That shewes thou art vnconfirm'd, thou knowest
that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloake, is nothing
to a man

   Con. Yes, it is apparell

   Bor. I meane the fashion

   Con. Yes the fashion is the fashion

   Bor. Tush, I may as well say the foole's the foole, but
seest thou not what a deformed theefe this fashion is?
  Watch. I know that deformed, a has bin a vile theefe,
this vii. yeares, a goes vp and downe like a gentle man:
I remember his name

   Bor. Did'st thou not heare some bodie?
  Con. No, 'twas the vaine on the house

   Bor. Seest thou not (I say) what a deformed thiefe
this fashion is, how giddily a turnes about all the Hotblouds,
betweene, foureteene & fiue & thirtie, sometimes
fashioning them like Pharaoes souldiours in the rechie
painting, sometime like god Bels priests in the old
Church window, sometime like the shauen Hercules in
the smircht worm-eaten tapestrie, where his cod-peece
seemes as massie as his club

   Con. All this I see, and see that the fashion weares out
more apparrell then the man; but art not thou thy selfe
giddie with the fashion too that thou hast shifted out of
thy tale into telling me of the fashion?
  Bor. Not so neither, but know that I haue to night
wooed Margaret the Lady Heroes gentle-woman, by the
name of Hero, she leanes me out at her mistris chamberwindow,
bids me a thousand times good night: I tell
this tale vildly. I should first tell thee how the Prince
Claudio and my Master planted, and placed, and possessed
by my Master Don Iohn, saw a far off in the Orchard this
amiable incounter

   Con. And thought thy Margaret was Hero?
  Bor. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the
diuell my Master knew she was Margaret and partly by
his oathes, which first possest them, partly by the darke
night which did deceiue them, but chiefely, by my villanie,
which did confirme any slander that Don Iohn had
made, away went Claudio enraged, swore hee would
meete her as he was apointed next morning at the Temple,
and there, before the whole congregation shame her
with what he saw o're night, and send her home againe
without a husband

   Watch.1. We charge you in the Princes name stand

   Watch.2. Call vp the right master Constable, we haue
here recouered the most dangerous peece of lechery, that
euer was knowne in the Common-wealth

   Watch.1. And one Deformed is one of them, I know
him, a weares a locke

   Conr. Masters, masters

   Watch.2. Youle be made bring deformed forth I warrant
you,
  Conr. Masters, neuer speake, we charge you, let vs obey
you to goe with vs

   Bor. We are like to proue a goodly commoditie, being
taken vp of these mens bils

   Conr. A commoditie in question I warrant you, come
weele obey you.

Exeunt.

Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Vrsula.

  Hero. Good Vrsula wake my cosin Beatrice, and desire
her to rise

   Vrsu. I will Lady

   Her. And bid her come hither

   Vrs. Well

   Mar. Troth I thinke your other rebato were better

   Hero. No pray thee good Meg, Ile weare this

   Marg. By my troth's not so good, and I warrant your
cosin will say so

   Hero. My cosin's a foole, and thou art another, ile
weare none but this

   Mar. I like the new tire within excellently, if the
haire were a thought browner: and your gown's a most
rare fashion yfaith, I saw the Dutchesse of Millaines
gowne that they praise so

   Hero. O that exceedes they say

   Mar. By my troth's but a night-gowne in respect of
yours, cloth a gold and cuts, and lac'd with siluer, set with
pearles, downe sleeues, side sleeues, and skirts, round vnderborn
with a blewish tinsel, but for a fine queint gracefull
and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't

   Hero. God giue mee ioy to weare it, for my heart is
exceeding heauy

   Marga. 'Twill be heauier soone, by the waight of a
man

   Hero. Fie vpon thee, art not asham'd?
  Marg. Of what Lady? of speaking honourably? is
not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord
honourable without marriage? I thinke you would haue
me say, sauing your reuerence a husband: and bad thinking
doe not wrest true speaking, Ile offend no body, is
there any harme in the heauier for a husband? none I
thinke, and it be the right husband, and the right wife,
otherwise 'tis light and not heauy, aske my Lady Beatrice
else, here she comes.
Enter Beatrice.

  Hero. Good morrow Coze

   Beat. Good morrow sweet Hero

   Hero. Why how now? do you speake in the sick tune?
  Beat. I am out of all other tune, me thinkes

   Mar. Claps into Light a loue, (that goes without a
burden,) do you sing it and Ile dance it

   Beat. Ye Light aloue with your heeles, then if your
husband haue stables enough, you'll looke he shall lacke
no barnes

   Mar. O illegitimate construction! I scorne that with
my heeles

   Beat. 'Tis almost fiue a clocke cosin, 'tis time you
were ready, by my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho

   Mar. For a hauke, a horse, or a husband?
  Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H

   Mar. Well, and you be not turn'd Turke, there's no
more sayling by the starre

   Beat. What meanes the foole trow?
  Mar. Nothing I, but God send euery one their harts
desire

   Hero. These gloues the Count sent mee, they are an
excellent perfume

   Beat. I am stuft cosin, I cannot smell

   Mar. A maid and stuft! there's goodly catching of
colde

   Beat. O God helpe me, God help me, how long haue
you profest apprehension?
  Mar. Euer since you left it, doth not my wit become
me rarely?
  Beat. It is not seene enough, you should weare it in
your cap, by my troth I am sicke

   Mar. Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus
and lay it to your heart, it is the onely thing for a qualm

   Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thissell

   Beat. Benedictus, why benedictus? you haue some morall
in this benedictus

   Mar. Morall? no by my troth, I haue no morall meaning,
I meant plaine holy thissell, you may thinke perchance
that I thinke you are in loue, nay birlady I am not
such a foole to thinke what I list, nor I list not to thinke
what I can, nor indeed, I cannot thinke, if I would thinke
my hart out of thinking, that you are in loue, or that you
will be in loue, or that you can be in loue: yet Benedicke
was such another, and now is he become a man, he swore
hee would neuer marry, and yet now in despight of his
heart he eates his meat without grudging, and how you
may be conuerted I know not, but me thinkes you looke
with your eies as other women doe

   Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keepes

   Mar. Not a false gallop.
Enter Vrsula.

  Vrsula. Madam, withdraw, the Prince, the Count, signior
Benedicke, Don Iohn, and all the gallants of the
towne are come to fetch you to Church

   Hero. Helpe me to dresse mee good coze, good Meg,
good Vrsula.
Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough.

  Leonato. What would you with mee, honest neighbour?
  Const.Dog. Mary sir I would haue some confidence
with you, that decernes you nearely

   Leon. Briefe I pray you, for you see it is a busie time
with me

   Const.Dog. Mary this it is sir

   Headb. Yes in truth it is sir

   Leon. What is it my good friends?
  Con.Do. Goodman Verges sir speakes a little of the
matter, an old man sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as
God helpe I would desire they were, but infaith honest
as the skin betweene his browes

   Head. Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man liuing,
that is an old man, and no honester then I

   Con.Dog. Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour
Verges

   Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious

   Con.Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are
the poore Dukes officers, but truely for mine owne part,
if I were as tedious as a King I could finde in my heart to
bestow it all of your worship

   Leon. All thy tediousnesse on me, ah?
  Const.Dog. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more
than 'tis, for I heare as good exclamation on your Worship
as of any man in the Citie, and though I bee but a
poore man, I am glad to heare it

   Head. And so am I

   Leon. I would faine know what you haue to say

   Head. Marry sir our watch to night, excepting your
worships presence, haue tane a couple of as arrant
knaues as any in Messina

   Con.Dog. A good old man sir, hee will be talking as
they say, when the age is in, the wit is out, God helpe vs,
it is a world to see: well said yfaith neighbour Verges,
well, God's a good man, and two men ride of a horse,
one must ride behinde, an honest soule yfaith sir, by my
troth he is, as euer broke bread, but God is to bee worshipt,
all men are not alike, alas good neighbour

   Leon. Indeed neighbour he comes too short of you

   Con.Do. Gifts that God giues

   Leon. I must leaue you

   Con.Dog. One word sir, our watch sir haue indeede
comprehended two aspitious persons, & we would haue
them this morning examined before your worship

   Leon. Take their examination your selfe, and bring it
me, I am now in great haste, as may appeare vnto you

   Const. It shall be suffigance

   Leon. Drinke some wine ere you goe: fare you well.
Enter.

  Messenger. My Lord, they stay for you to giue your
daughter to her husband

   Leon. Ile wait vpon them, I am ready

   Dogb. Goe good partner, goe get you to Francis Seacoale,
bid him bring his pen and inkehorne to the Gaole:
we are now to examine those men

   Verges. And we must doe it wisely

   Dogb. Wee will spare for no witte I warrant you:
heere's that shall driue some to a non-come, only
get the learned writer to set downe our excommunication,
and meet me at the Iaile.

Exeunt.


Actus Quartus.

Enter Prince, Bastard, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Benedicke, Hero,
and
Beatrice.

  Leonato. Come Frier Francis, be briefe, onely to the
plaine forme of marriage, and you shal recount their particular
duties afterwards

   Fran. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady

   Clau. No

   Leo. To be married to her: Frier, you come to marrie
her

   Frier. Lady, you come hither to be married to this
Count

   Hero. I doe

   Frier. If either of you know any inward impediment
why you should not be conioyned, I charge you on your
soules to vtter it

   Claud. Know you anie, Hero?
  Hero. None my Lord

   Frier. Know you anie, Count?
  Leon. I dare make his answer, None

   Clau. O what men dare do! what men may do! what
men daily do!
  Bene. How now! interiections? why then, some be
of laughing, as ha, ha, he

   Clau. Stand thee by Frier, father, by your leaue,
Will you with free and vnconstrained soule
Giue me this maid your daughter?
  Leon. As freely sonne as God did giue her me

   Cla. And what haue I to giue you back, whose worth
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?
  Prin. Nothing, vnlesse you render her againe

   Clau. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulnes:
There Leonato, take her backe againe,
Giue not this rotten Orenge to your friend,
Shee's but the signe and semblance of her honour:
Behold how like a maid she blushes heere!
O what authoritie and shew of truth
Can cunning sinne couer it selfe withall!
Comes not that bloud, as modest euidence,
To witnesse simple Vertue? would you not sweare
All you that see her, that she were a maide,
By these exterior shewes? But she is none:
She knowes the heat of a luxurious bed:
Her blush is guiltinesse, not modestie

   Leonato. What doe you meane, my Lord?
  Clau. Not to be married,
Not to knit my soule to an approued wanton

   Leon. Deere my Lord, if you in your owne proofe,
Haue vanquisht the resistance of her youth,
And made defeat of her virginitie

   Clau. I know what you would say: if I haue knowne
(her,
You will say, she did imbrace me as a husband,
And so extenuate the forehand sinne: No Leonato,
I neuer tempted her with word too large,
But as a brother to his sister, shewed
Bashfull sinceritie and comely loue

   Hero. And seem'd I euer otherwise to you?
  Clau. Out on thee seeming, I will write against it,
You seeme to me as Diane in her Orbe,
As chaste as is the budde ere it be blowne:
But you are more intemperate in your blood,
Than Venus, or those pampred animalls,
That rage in sauage sensualitie

   Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth speake so wide?
  Leon. Sweete Prince, why speake not you?
  Prin. What should I speake?
I stand dishonour'd that haue gone about,
To linke my deare friend to a common stale

   Leon. Are these things spoken, or doe I but dreame?
  Bast. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true

   Bene. This lookes not like a nuptiall

   Hero. True, O God!
  Clau. Leonato, stand I here?
Is this the Prince? is this the Princes brother?
Is this face Heroes? are our eies our owne?
  Leon. All this is so, but what of this my Lord?
  Clau. Let me but moue one question to your daughter,
And by that fatherly and kindly power,
That you haue in her, bid her answer truly

   Leo. I charge thee doe, as thou art my childe

   Hero. O God defend me how am I beset,
What kinde of catechizing call you this?
  Clau. To make you answer truly to your name

   Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that name
With any iust reproach?
  Claud. Marry that can Hero,
Hero it selfe can blot out Heroes vertue.
What man was he, talkt with you yesternight,
Out at your window betwixt twelue and one?
Now if you are a maid, answer to this

   Hero. I talkt with no man at that howre my Lord

   Prince. Why then you are no maiden. Leonato,
I am sorry you must heare: vpon mine honor,
My selfe, my brother, and this grieued Count
Did see her, heare her, at that howre last night,
Talke with a ruffian at her chamber window,
Who hath indeed most like a liberall villaine,
Confest the vile encounters they haue had
A thousand times in secret

   Iohn. Fie, fie, they are not to be named my Lord,
Not to be spoken of,
There is not chastitie enough in language,
Without offence to vtter them: thus pretty Lady
I am sorry for thy much misgouernment

   Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou beene
If halfe thy outward graces had beene placed
About thy thoughts and counsailes of thy heart?
But fare thee well, most foule, most faire, farewell
Thou pure impiety, and impious puritie,
For thee Ile locke vp all the gates of Loue,
And on my eie-lids shall Coniecture hang,
To turne all beauty into thoughts of harme,
And neuer shall it more be gracious

   Leon. Hath no mans dagger here a point for me?
  Beat. Why how now cosin, wherfore sink you down?
  Bast. Come, let vs go: these things come thus to light,
Smother her spirits vp

   Bene. How doth the Lady?
  Beat. Dead I thinke, helpe vncle,
Hero, why Hero, Vncle, Signor Benedicke, Frier

   Leonato. O Fate! take not away thy heauy hand,
Death is the fairest couer for her shame
That may be wisht for

   Beatr. How now cosin Hero?
  Fri. Haue comfort Ladie

   Leon. Dost thou looke vp?
  Frier. Yea, wherefore should she not?
  Leon. Wherfore? Why doth not euery earthly thing
Cry shame vpon her? Could she heere denie
The storie that is printed in her blood?
Do not liue Hero, do not ope thine eyes:
For did I thinke thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I thy spirits were stronger then thy shames,
My selfe would on the reward of reproaches
Strike at thy life. Grieu'd I, I had but one?
Chid I, for that at frugal Natures frame?
O one too much by thee: why had I one?
Why euer was't thou louelie in my eies?
Why had I not with charitable hand
Tooke vp a beggars issue at my gates,
Who smeered thus, and mir'd with infamie,
I might haue said, no part of it is mine:
This shame deriues it selfe from vnknowne loines,
But mine, and mine I lou'd, and mine I prais'd,
And mine that I was proud on mine so much,
That I my selfe, was to my selfe not mine:
Valewing of her, why she, O she is falne
Into a pit of Inke, that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her cleane againe,
And salt too little, which may season giue
To her foule tainted flesh

   Ben. Sir, sir, be patient: for my part, I am so attired
in wonder, I know not what to say

   Bea. O on my soule my cosin is belied

   Ben. Ladie, were you her bedfellow last night?
  Bea. No, truly: not although vntill last night,
I haue this tweluemonth bin her bedfellow

   Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd, O that is stronger made
Which was before barr'd vp with ribs of iron.
Would the Princes lie, and Claudio lie,
Who lou'd her so, that speaking of her foulnesse,
Wash'd it with teares? Hence from her, let her die

   Fri. Heare me a little, for I haue onely bene silent so
long, and giuen way vnto this course of fortune, by noting
of the Ladie, I haue markt.
A thousand blushing apparitions,
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames,
In Angel whitenesse beare away those blushes,
And in her eie there hath appear'd a fire
To burne the errors that these Princes hold
Against her maiden truth. Call me a foole,
Trust not my reading, nor my obseruations,
Which with experimental seale doth warrant
The tenure of my booke: trust not my age,
My reuerence, calling, nor diuinitie,
If this sweet Ladie lye not guiltlesse heere,
Vnder some biting error

   Leo. Friar, it cannot be:
Thou seest that all the Grace that she hath left,
Is, that she wil not adde to her damnation,
A sinne of periury, she not denies it:
Why seek'st thou then to couer with excuse,
That which appeares in proper nakednesse?
  Fri. Ladie, what man is he you are accus'd of?
  Hero. They know that do accuse me, I know none:
If I know more of any man aliue
Then that which maiden modestie doth warrant,
Let all my sinnes lacke mercy. O my Father,
Proue you that any man with me conuerst,
At houres vnmeete, or that I yesternight
Maintain'd the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death

   Fri. There is some strange misprision in the Princes

   Ben. Two of them haue the verie bent of honor,
And if their wisedomes be misled in this:
The practise of it liues in Iohn the bastard,
Whose spirits toile in frame of villanies

   Leo. I know not: if they speake but truth of her,
These hands shall teare her: If they wrong her honour,
The proudest of them shall wel heare of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this bloud of mine,
Nor age so eate vp my inuention,
Nor Fortune made such hauocke of my meanes,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
But they shall finde, awak'd in such a kinde,
Both strength of limbe, and policie of minde,
Ability in meanes, and choise of friends,
To quit me of them throughly

   Fri. Pause awhile:
And let my counsell sway you in this case,
Your daughter heere the Princesse (left for dead)
Let her awhile be secretly kept in,
And publish it, that she is dead indeed:
Maintaine a mourning ostentation,
And on your Families old monument,
Hang mournfull Epitaphes, and do all rites,
That appertaine vnto a buriall

   Leon. What shall become of this? What wil this do?
  Fri. Marry this wel carried, shall on her behalfe,
Change slander to remorse, that is some good,
But not for that dreame I on this strange course,
But on this trauaile looke for greater birth:
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd,
Vpon the instant that she was accus'd,
Shal be lamented, pittied, and excus'd
Of euery hearer: for it so fals out,
That what we haue, we prize not to the worth,
Whiles we enioy it; but being lack'd and lost,
Why then we racke the value, then we finde
The vertue that possession would not shew vs
Whiles it was ours, so will it fare with Claudio:
When he shal heare she dyed vpon his words,
Th' Idea of her life shal sweetly creepe
Into his study of imagination.
And euery louely Organ of her life,
Shall come apparel'd in more precious habite:
More mouing delicate, and ful of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soule
Then when she liu'd indeed: then shal he mourne,
If euer Loue had interest in his Liuer,
And wish he had not so accused her:
No, though he thought his accusation true:
Let this be so, and doubt not but successe
Wil fashion the euent in better shape,
Then I can lay it downe in likelihood.
But if all ayme but this be leuelld false,
The supposition of the Ladies death,
Will quench the wonder of her infamie.
And if it sort not well, you may conceale her
As best befits her wounded reputation,
In some reclusiue and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongues, mindes and iniuries

   Bene. Signior Leonato, let the Frier aduise you,
And though you know my inwardnesse and loue
Is very much vnto the Prince and Claudio.
Yet, by mine honor, I will deale in this,
As secretly and iustlie, as your soule
Should with your bodie

   Leon. Being that I flow in greefe,
The smallest twine may lead me

   Frier. 'Tis well consented, presently away,
For to strange sores, strangely they straine the cure,
Come Lady, die to liue, this wedding day
Perhaps is but prolong'd, haue patience & endure.
Enter.

  Bene. Lady Beatrice, haue you wept all this while?
  Beat. Yea, and I will weepe a while longer

   Bene. I will not desire that

   Beat. You haue no reason, I doe it freely

   Bene. Surelie I do beleeue your fair cosin is wrong'd

   Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserue of mee
that would right her!
  Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship?
  Beat. A verie euen way, but no such friend

   Bene. May a man doe it?
  Beat. It is a mans office, but not yours

   Bene. I doe loue nothing in the world so well as you,
is not that strange?
  Beat. As strange as the thing I know not, it were as
possible for me to say, I loued nothing so well as you, but
beleeue me not, and yet I lie not, I confesse nothing, nor
I deny nothing, I am sorry for my cousin

   Bene. By my sword Beatrice thou lou'st me

   Beat. Doe not sweare by it and eat it

   Bene. I will sweare by it that you loue mee, and I will
make him eat it that sayes I loue not you

   Beat. Will you not eat your word?
  Bene. With no sawce that can be deuised to it, I protest
I loue thee

   Beat. Why then God forgiue me

   Bene. What offence sweet Beatrice?
  Beat. You haue stayed me in a happy howre, I was about
to protest I loued you

   Bene. And doe it with all thy heart

   Beat. I loue you with so much of my heart, that none
is left to protest

   Bened. Come, bid me doe any thing for thee

   Beat. Kill Claudio

   Bene. Ha, not for the wide world

   Beat. You kill me to denie, farewell

   Bene. Tarrie sweet Beatrice

   Beat. I am gone, though I am heere, there is no loue
in you, nay I pray you let me goe

   Bene. Beatrice

   Beat. Infaith I will goe

   Bene. Wee'll be friends first

   Beat. You dare easier be friends with mee, than fight
with mine enemy

   Bene. Is Claudio thine enemie?
  Beat. Is a not approued in the height a villaine, that
hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O
that I were a man! what, beare her in hand vntill they
come to take hands, and then with publike accusation
vncouered slander, vnmittigated rancour? O God that I
were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place

   Bene. Heare me Beatrice

   Beat. Talke with a man out at a window, a proper
saying

   Bene. Nay but Beatrice

   Beat. Sweet Hero, she is wrong'd, shee is slandered,
she is vndone

   Bene. Beat?
  Beat. Princes and Counties! surelie a Princely testimonie,
a goodly Count, Comfect, a sweet Gallant surelie,
O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any
friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted
into cursies, valour into complement, and men are
onelie turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now
as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and sweares it:
I cannot be a man with wishing, therfore I will die a woman
with grieuing

   Bene. Tarry good Beatrice, by this hand I loue thee

   Beat. Vse it for my loue some other way then swearing
by it

   Bened. Thinke you in your soule the Count Claudio
hath wrong'd Hero?
  Beat. Yea, as sure as I haue a thought, or a soule

   Bene. Enough, I am engagde, I will challenge him, I
will kisse your hand, and so leaue you: by this hand Claudio
shall render me a deere account: as you heare of me,
so thinke of me: goe comfort your coosin, I must say she
is dead, and so farewell.
Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne Clerke in gownes.

  Keeper. Is our whole dissembly appeard?
  Cowley. O a stoole and a cushion for the Sexton

   Sexton. Which be the malefactors?
  Andrew. Marry that am I, and my partner

   Cowley. Nay that's certaine, wee haue the exhibition
to examine

   Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examined,
let them come before master Constable

   Kemp. Yea marry, let them come before mee, what is
your name, friend?
  Bor. Borachio

   Kem. Pray write downe Borachio. Yours sirra

   Con. I am a Gentleman sir, and my name is Conrade

   Kee. Write downe Master gentleman Conrade: maisters,
doe you serue God: maisters, it is proued alreadie
that you are little better than false knaues, and it will goe
neere to be thought so shortly, how answer you for your
selues?
  Con. Marry sir, we say we are none

   Kemp. A maruellous witty fellow I assure you, but I
will goe about with him: come you hither sirra, a word
in your eare sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false
knaues

   Bor. Sir, I say to you, we are none

   Kemp. Well, stand aside, 'fore God they are both in
a tale: haue you writ downe that they are none?
  Sext. Master Constable, you goe not the way to examine,
you must call forth the watch that are their accusers

   Kemp. Yea marry, that's the eftest way, let the watch
come forth: masters, I charge you in the Princes name,
accuse these men

   Watch 1. This man said sir, that Don Iohn the Princes
brother was a villaine

   Kemp. Write down, Prince Iohn a villaine: why this
is flat periurie, to call a Princes brother villaine

   Bora. Master Constable

   Kemp. Pray thee fellow peace, I do not like thy looke
I promise thee

   Sexton. What heard you him say else?
  Watch 2. Mary that he had receiued a thousand Dukates
of Don Iohn, for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully

   Kemp. Flat Burglarie as euer was committed

   Const. Yea by th' masse that it is

   Sexton. What else fellow?
  Watch 1. And that Count Claudio did meane vpon his
words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and
not marry her

   Kemp. O villaine! thou wilt be condemn'd into euerlasting
redemption for this

   Sexton. What else?
  Watch. This is all

   Sexton. And this is more masters then you can deny,
Prince Iohn is this morning secretly stolne away: Hero
was in this manner accus'd, in this very manner refus'd,
and vpon the griefe of this sodainely died: Master Constable,
let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato,
I will goe before, and shew him their examination

   Const. Come, let them be opinion'd

   Sex. Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe

   Kem. Gods my life, where's the Sexton? let him write
downe the Princes Officer Coxcombe: come, binde them
thou naughty varlet

   Couley. Away, you are an asse, you are an asse

   Kemp. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not
suspect my yeeres? O that hee were heere to write mee
downe an asse! but masters, remember that I am an asse:
though it be not written down, yet forget not y I am an
asse: No thou villaine, y art full of piety as shall be prou'd
vpon thee by good witnesse, I am a wise fellow, and
which is more, an officer, and which is more, a houshoulder,
and which is more, as pretty a peece of flesh as any in
Messina, and one that knowes the Law, goe to, & a rich
fellow enough, goe to, and a fellow that hath had losses,
and one that hath two gownes, and euery thing handsome
about him: bring him away: O that I had been writ
downe an asse!
Enter.


Actus Quintus.

Enter Leonato and his brother.

  Brother. If you goe on thus, you will kill your selfe,
And 'tis not wisedome thus to second griefe,
Against your selfe

   Leon. I pray thee cease thy counsaile,
Which falls into mine eares as profitlesse,
As water in a siue: giue not me counsaile,
Nor let no comfort delight mine eare,
But such a one whose wrongs doth sute with mine.
Bring me a father that so lou'd his childe,
Whose ioy of her is ouer-whelmed like mine,
And bid him speake of patience,
Measure his woe the length and bredth of mine,
And let it answere euery straine for straine,
As thus for thus, and such a griefe for such,
In euery lineament, branch, shape, and forme:
If such a one will smile and stroke his beard,
And sorrow, wagge, crie hem, when he should grone,
Patch griefe with prouerbs, make misfortune drunke,
With candle-wasters: bring him yet to me,
And I of him will gather patience:
But there is no such man, for brother, men
Can counsaile, and speake comfort to that griefe,
Which they themselues not feele, but tasting it,
Their counsaile turnes to passion, which before,
Would giue preceptiall medicine to rage,
Fetter strong madnesse in a silken thred,
Charme ache with ayre, and agony with words,
No, no, 'tis all mens office, to speake patience
To those that wring vnder the load of sorrow:
But no mans vertue nor sufficiencie
To be so morall, when he shall endure
The like himselfe: therefore giue me no counsaile,
My griefs cry lowder then aduertisement

   Broth. Therein do men from children nothing differ

   Leonato. I pray thee peace, I will be flesh and bloud,
For there was neuer yet Philosopher,
That could endure the tooth-ake patiently,
How euer they haue writ the stile of gods,
And made a push at chance and sufferance

   Brother. Yet bend not all the harme vpon your selfe,
Make those that doe offend you, suffer too

   Leon. There thou speak'st reason, nay I will doe so,
My soule doth tell me, Hero is belied,
And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince,
And all of them that thus dishonour her.
Enter Prince and Claudio.

  Brot. Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily

   Prin. Good den, good den

   Clau. Good day to both of you

   Leon. Heare you my Lords?
  Prin. We haue some haste Leonato

   Leo. Some haste my Lord! wel, fareyouwel my Lord,
Are you so hasty now? well, all is one

   Prin. Nay, do not quarrel with vs, good old man

   Brot. If he could rite himselfe with quarrelling,
Some of vs would lie low

   Claud. Who wrongs him?
  Leon. Marry y dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou:
Nay, neuer lay thy hand vpon thy sword,
I feare thee not

   Claud. Marry beshrew my hand,
If it should giue your age such cause of feare,
Infaith my hand meant nothing to my sword

   Leonato. Tush, tush, man, neuer fleere and iest at me,
I speake not like a dotard, nor a foole,
As vnder priuiledge of age to bragge,
What I haue done being yong, or what would doe,
Were I not old, know Claudio to thy head,
Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent childe and me,
That I am forc'd to lay my reuerence by,
And with grey haires and bruise of many daies,
Doe challenge thee to triall of a man,
I say thou hast belied mine innocent childe.
Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,
And she lies buried with her ancestors:
O in a tombe where neuer scandall slept,
Saue this of hers, fram'd by thy villanie

   Claud. My villany?
  Leonato. Thine Claudio, thine I say

   Prin. You say not right old man

   Leon. My Lord, my Lord,
Ile proue it on his body if he dare,
Despight his nice fence, and his actiue practise,
His Maie of youth, and bloome of lustihood

   Claud. Away, I will not haue to do with you

   Leo. Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kild my child,
If thou kilst me, boy, thou shalt kill a man

   Bro. He shall kill two of vs, and men indeed,
But that's no matter, let him kill one first:
Win me and weare me, let him answere me,
Come follow me boy, come sir boy, come follow me
Sir boy, ile whip you from your foyning fence,
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will

   Leon. Brother

   Brot. Content your self, God knows I lou'd my neece,
And she is dead, slander'd to death by villaines,
That dare as well answer a man indeede,
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue.
Boyes, apes, braggarts, Iackes, milke-sops

   Leon. Brother Anthony

   Brot. Hold you content, what man? I know them, yea
And what they weigh, euen to the vtmost scruple,
Scambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boyes,
That lye, and cog, and flout, depraue, and slander,
Goe antiquely, and show outward hidiousnesse,
And speake of halfe a dozen dang'rous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst.
And this is all

   Leon. But brother Anthonie

   Ant. Come, 'tis no matter,
Do not you meddle, let me deale in this

   Pri. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience
My heart is sorry for your daughters death:
But on my honour she was charg'd with nothing
But what was true, and very full of proofe

   Leon. My Lord, my Lord

   Prin. I will not heare you.
Enter Benedicke.

  Leo. No come brother, away, I will be heard.

Exeunt. ambo.

  Bro. And shall, or some of vs will smart for it

   Prin. See, see, here comes the man we went to seeke

   Clau. Now signior, what newes?
  Ben. Good day my Lord

   Prin. Welcome signior, you are almost come to part
almost a fray

   Clau. Wee had likt to haue had our two noses snapt
off with two old men without teeth

   Prin. Leonato and his brother, what think'st thou? had
wee fought, I doubt we should haue beene too yong for
them

   Ben. In a false quarrell there is no true valour, I came
to seeke you both

   Clau. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke thee, for
we are high proofe melancholly, and would faine haue it
beaten away, wilt thou vse thy wit?
  Ben. It is in my scabberd, shall I draw it?
  Prin. Doest thou weare thy wit by thy side?
  Clau. Neuer any did so, though verie many haue been
beside their wit, I will bid thee drawe, as we do the minstrels,
draw to pleasure vs

   Prin. As I am an honest man he lookes pale, art thou
sicke, or angrie?
  Clau. What, courage man: what though care kil'd a
cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care

   Ben. Sir, I shall meete your wit in the careere, and
you charge it against me, I pray you chuse another subiect

   Clau. Nay then giue him another staffe, this last was
broke crosse

   Prin. By this light, he changes more and more, I thinke
he be angrie indeede

   Clau. If he be, he knowes how to turne his girdle

   Ben. Shall I speake a word in your eare?
  Clau. God blesse me from a challenge

   Ben. You are a villaine, I iest not, I will make it good
how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare:
do me right, or I will protest your cowardise: you haue
kill'd a sweete Ladie, and her death shall fall heauie on
you, let me heare from you

   Clau. Well, I will meete you, so I may haue good
cheare

   Prin. What, a feast, a feast?
  Clau. I faith I thanke him, he hath bid me to a calues
head and a Capon, the which if I doe not carue most curiously,
say my knife's naught, shall I not finde a woodcocke
too?
  Ben. Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily

   Prin. Ile tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other
day: I said thou hadst a fine wit: true saies she, a fine
little one: no said I, a great wit: right saies shee, a great
grosse one: nay said I, a good wit: iust said she, it hurts
no body: nay said I, the gentleman is wise: certaine said
she, a wise gentleman: nay said I, he hath the tongues:
that I beleeue said shee, for hee swore a thing to me on
munday night, which he forswore on tuesday morning:
there's a double tongue, there's two tongues: thus did
shee an howre together trans-shape thy particular vertues,
yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the
proprest man in Italie

   Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said shee
car'd not

   Prin. Yea that she did, but yet for all that, and if shee
did not hate him deadlie, shee would loue him dearely,
the old mans daughter told vs all

   Clau. All, all, and moreouer, God saw him when he
was hid in the garden

   Prin. But when shall we set the sauage Bulls hornes
on the sensible Benedicks head?
  Clau. Yea and text vnderneath, heere dwells Benedicke
the married man

   Ben. Fare you well, Boy, you know my minde, I will
leaue you now to your gossep-like humor, you breake
iests as braggards do their blades, which God be thanked
hurt not: my Lord, for your manie courtesies I thank
you, I must discontinue your companie, your brother
the Bastard is fled from Messina: you haue among you,
kill'd a sweet and innocent Ladie: for my Lord Lackebeard
there, he and I shall meete, and till then peace be
with him

   Prin. He is in earnest

   Clau. In most profound earnest, and Ile warrant you,
for the loue of Beatrice

   Prin. And hath challeng'd thee

   Clau. Most sincerely

   Prin. What a prettie thing man is, when he goes in his
doublet and hose, and leaues off his wit.
Enter Constable, Conrade, and Borachio.

  Clau. He is then a Giant to an Ape, but then is an Ape
a Doctor to such a man

   Prin. But soft you, let me be, plucke vp my heart, and
be sad, did he not say my brother was fled?
  Const. Come you sir, if iustice cannot tame you, shee
shall nere weigh more reasons in her ballance, nay, and
you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be lookt to

   Prin. How now, two of my brothers men bound? Borachio
one

   Clau. Harken after their offence my Lord

   Prin. Officers, what offence haue these men done?
  Const. Marrie sir, they haue committed false report,
moreouer they haue spoken vntruths, secondarily they
are slanders, sixt and lastly, they haue belyed a Ladie,
thirdly, they haue verified vniust things, and to conclude
they are lying knaues

   Prin. First I aske thee what they haue done, thirdlie
I aske thee what's their offence, sixt and lastlie why they
are committed, and to conclude, what you lay to their
charge

   Clau. Rightlie reasoned, and in his owne diuision, and
by my troth there's one meaning well suted

   Prin. Who haue you offended masters, that you are
thus bound to your answer? this learned Constable is too
cunning to be vnderstood, what's your offence?
  Bor. Sweete Prince, let me go no farther to mine answere:
do you heare me, and let this Count kill mee: I
haue deceiued euen your verie eies: what your wisedomes
could not discouer, these shallow fooles haue
brought to light, who in the night ouerheard me confessing
to this man, how Don Iohn your brother incensed
me to slander the Ladie Hero, how you were brought
into the Orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Heroes
garments, how you disgrac'd her when you should
marrie her: my villanie they haue vpon record, which
I had rather seale with my death, then repeate ouer to
my shame: the Ladie is dead vpon mine and my masters
false accusation: and briefelie, I desire nothing but the
reward of a villaine

   Prin. Runs not this speech like yron through your
bloud?
  Clau. I haue drunke poison whiles he vtter'd it

   Prin. But did my Brother set thee on to this?
  Bor. Yea, and paid me richly for the practise of it

   Prin. He is compos'd and fram'd of treacherie,
And fled he is vpon this villanie

   Clau. Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appeare
In the rare semblance that I lou'd it first

   Const. Come, bring away the plaintiffes, by this time
our Sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter:
and masters, do not forget to specifie when time & place
shall serue, that I am an Asse

   Con.2. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and
the Sexton too.
Enter Leonato.

  Leon. Which is the villaine? let me see his eies,
That when I note another man like him,
I may auoide him: which of these is he?
  Bor. If you would know your wronger, looke on me

   Leon. Art thou the slaue that with thy breath
hast kild mine innocent childe?
  Bor. Yea, euen I alone

   Leo. No, not so villaine, thou beliest thy selfe,
Here stand a paire of honourable men,
A third is fled that had a hand in it:
I thanke you Princes for my daughters death,
Record it with your high and worthie deedes,
'Twas brauely done, if you bethinke you of it

   Clau. I know not how to pray your patience,
Yet I must speake, choose your reuenge your selfe,
Impose me to what penance your inuention
Can lay vpon my sinne, yet sinn'd I not,
But in mistaking

   Prin. By my soule nor I,
And yet to satisfie this good old man,
I would bend vnder anie heauie waight,
That heele enioyne me to

   Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter liue,
That were impossible, but I praie you both,
Possesse the people in Messina here,
How innocent she died, and if your loue
Can labour aught in sad inuention,
Hang her an epitaph vpon her toomb,
And sing it to her bones, sing it to night:
To morrow morning come you to my house,
And since you could not be my sonne in law,
Be yet my Nephew: my brother hath a daughter,
Almost the copie of my childe that's dead,
And she alone is heire to both of vs,
Giue her the right you should haue giu'n her cosin,
And so dies my reuenge

   Clau. O noble sir!
Your ouerkindnesse doth wring teares from me,
I do embrace your offer, and dispose
For henceforth of poore Claudio

   Leon. To morrow then I will expect your comming,
To night I take my leaue, this naughtie man
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,
Who I beleeue was packt in all this wrong,
Hired to it by your brother

   Bor. No, by my soule she was not,
Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me,
But alwaies hath bin iust and vertuous,
In anie thing that I do know by her

   Const. Moreouer sir, which indeede is not vnder white
and black, this plaintiffe here, the offendour did call mee
asse, I beseech you let it be remembred in his punishment,
and also the watch heard them talke of one Deformed,
they say he weares a key in his eare and a lock hanging
by it, and borrowes monie in Gods name, the which
he hath vs'd so long, and neuer paied, that now men grow
hard-harted and will lend nothing for Gods sake: praie
you examine him vpon that point

   Leon. I thanke thee for thy care and honest paines

   Const. Your worship speakes like a most thankefull
and reuerend youth, and I praise God for you

   Leon. There's for thy paines

   Const. God saue the foundation

   Leon. Goe, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I
thanke thee

   Const. I leaue an arrant knaue with your worship,
which I beseech your worship to correct your selfe, for
the example of others: God keepe your worship, I
wish your worship well, God restore you to health,
I humblie giue you leaue to depart, and if a merrie
meeting may be wisht, God prohibite it: come
neighbour

   Leon. Vntill to morrow morning, Lords, farewell.

Exeunt.

  Brot. Farewell my Lords, we looke for you to morrow

   Prin. We will not faile

   Clau. To night ile mourne with Hero

   Leon. Bring you these fellowes on, weel talke with
Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd
fellow.

Exeunt.

Enter Benedicke and Margaret.

  Ben. Praie thee sweete Mistris Margaret, deserue
well at my hands, by helping mee to the speech of Beatrice

   Mar. Will you then write me a Sonnet in praise of
my beautie?
  Bene. In so high a stile Margaret, that no man liuing
shall come ouer it, for in most comely truth thou deseruest
it

   Mar. To haue no man come ouer me, why, shall I alwaies
keepe below staires?
  Bene. Thy wit is as quicke as the grey-hounds mouth,
it catches

   Mar. And yours, as blunt as the Fencers foiles, which
hit, but hurt not

   Bene. A most manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a
woman: and so I pray thee call Beatrice, I giue thee the
bucklers

   Mar. Giue vs the swords, wee haue bucklers of our
owne

   Bene. If you vse them Margaret, you must put in the
pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for
Maides

   Mar. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I thinke
hath legges.

Exit Margarite.

  Ben. And therefore will come. The God of loue that
sits aboue, and knowes me, and knowes me, how pittifull
I deserue. I meane in singing, but in louing, Leander
the good swimmer, Troilous the first imploier of
pandars, and a whole booke full of these quondam carpet-mongers,
whose name yet runne smoothly in the euen
rode of a blanke verse, why they were neuer so truely
turned ouer and ouer as my poore selfe in loue: marrie
I cannot shew it rime, I haue tried, I can finde out no
rime to Ladie but babie, an innocent rime: for scorne,
horne, a hard rime: for schoole foole, a babling rime:
verie ominous endings, no, I was not borne vnder a riming
Plannet, for I cannot wooe in festiuall tearmes:
Enter Beatrice.

sweete Beatrice would'st thou come when I cal'd
thee?
  Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me

   Bene. O stay but till then

   Beat. Then, is spoken: fare you well now, and yet ere
I goe, let me goe with that I came, which is, with knowing
what hath past betweene you and Claudio

   Bene. Onely foule words, and thereupon I will kisse
thee

   Beat. Foule words is but foule wind, and foule wind
is but foule breath, and foule breath is noisome, therefore
I will depart vnkist

   Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right
sence, so forcible is thy wit, but I must tell thee plainely,
Claudio vndergoes my challenge, and either I must shortly
heare from him, or I will subscribe him a coward, and
I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst
thou first fall in loue with me?
  Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd so
politique a state of euill, that they will not admit any
good part to intermingle with them: but for which of
my good parts did you first suffer loue for me?
  Bene. Suffer loue! a good epithite, I do suffer loue indeede,
for I loue thee against my will,
  Beat. In spight of your heart I think, alas poore heart,
if you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours, for
I will neuer loue that which my friend hates

   Bened. Thou and I are too wise to wooe peaceablie

   Bea. It appeares not in this confession, there's not one
wise man among twentie that will praise himselfe

   Bene. An old, an old instance Beatrice, that liu'd in
the time of good neighbours, if a man doe not erect in
this age his owne tombe ere he dies, hee shall liue no
longer in monuments, then the Bels ring, & the Widdow
weepes

   Beat. And how long is that thinke you?
  Ben. Question, why an hower in clamour and a quarter
in rhewme, therfore is it most expedient for the wise,
if Don worme (his conscience) finde no impediment to
the contrarie, to be the trumpet of his owne vertues, as
I am to my selfe so much for praising my selfe, who I my
selfe will beare witnesse is praise worthie, and now tell
me, how doth your cosin?
  Beat. Verie ill

   Bene. And how doe you?
  Beat. Verie ill too.
Enter Vrsula.

  Bene. Serue God, loue me, and mend, there will I leaue
you too, for here comes one in haste

   Vrs. Madam, you must come to your Vncle, yonders
old coile at home, it is prooued my Ladie Hero
hath bin falselie accusde, the Prince and Claudio
mightilie abusde, and Don Iohn is the author of all, who
is fled and gone: will you come presentlie?
  Beat. Will you go heare this newes Signior?
  Bene. I will liue in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried
in thy eies: and moreouer, I will goe with thee to
thy Vncles.

Exeunt.

Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or foure with Tapers.

  Clau. Is this the monument of Leonato?
  Lord. It is my Lord.

Epitaph.

Done to death by slanderous tongues,
Was the Hero that here lies:
Death in guerdon of her wrongs,
Giues her fame which neuer dies:
So the life that dyed with shame,
Liues in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there vpon the tombe,
Praising her when I am dombe

   Clau. Now musick sound & sing your solemn hymne

Song.

Pardon goddesse of the night,
Those that slew thy virgin knight,
For the which with songs of woe,
Round about her tombe they goe:
Midnight assist our mone, helpe vs to sigh and grone.
Heauily, heauily.
Graues yawne and yeelde your dead,
Till death be vttered,
Heauenly, heauenly

   Lo. Now vnto thy bones good night, yeerely will I do this right

   Prin. Good morrow masters, put your Torches out,
The wolues haue preied, and looke, the gentle day
Before the wheeles of Phoebus, round about
Dapples the drowsie East with spots of grey:
Thanks to you all, and leaue vs, fare you well

   Clau. Good morrow masters, each his seuerall way

   Prin. Come let vs hence, and put on other weedes,
And then to Leonatoes we will goe

   Clau. And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds,
Then this for whom we rendred vp this woe.

Exeunt.

Enter Leonato, Bene. Marg. Vrsula, old man, Frier, Hero.

  Frier. Did I not tell you she was innocent?
  Leo. So are the Prince and Claudio who accus'd her,
Vpon the errour that you heard debated:
But Margaret was in some fault for this,
Although against her will as it appeares,
In the true course of all the question

   Old. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well

   Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it

   Leo. Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by your selues,
And when I send for you, come hither mask'd:
The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this howre
To visit me, you know your office Brother,
You must be father to your brothers daughter,
And giue her to young Claudio.

Exeunt. Ladies.

  Old. Which I will doe with confirm'd countenance

   Bene. Frier, I must intreat your paines, I thinke

   Frier. To doe what Signior?
  Bene. To binde me, or vndoe me, one of them:
Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior,
Your neece regards me with an eye of fauour

   Leo. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true

   Bene. And I doe with an eye of loue requite her

   Leo. The sight whereof I thinke you had from me,
From Claudio, and the Prince, but what's your will?
  Bened. Your answer sir is Enigmaticall,
But for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conioyn'd,
In the state of honourable marriage,
In which (good Frier) I shall desire your helpe

   Leon. My heart is with your liking

   Frier. And my helpe.
Enter Prince and Claudio, with attendants.

  Prin. Good morrow to this faire assembly

   Leo. Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio:
We heere attend you, are you yet determin'd,
To day to marry with my brothers daughter?
  Claud. Ile hold my minde were she an Ethiope

   Leo. Call her forth brother, heres the Frier ready

   Prin. Good morrow Benedicke, why what's the matter?
That you haue such a Februarie face,
So full of frost, of storme, and clowdinesse

   Claud. I thinke he thinkes vpon the sauage bull:
Tush, feare not man, wee'll tip thy hornes with gold,
And all Europa shall reioyce at thee,
As once Europa did at lusty Ioue,
When he would play the noble beast in loue

   Ben. Bull Ioue sir, had an amiable low,
And some such strange bull leapt your fathers Cow,
A got a Calfe in that same noble feat,
Much like to you, for you haue iust his bleat.
Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Vrsula.

  Cla. For this I owe you: here comes other recknings.
Which is the Lady I must seize vpon?
  Leo. This same is she, and I doe giue you her

   Cla. Why then she's mine, sweet let me see your face

   Leon. No that you shal not, till you take her hand,
Before this Frier, and sweare to marry her

   Clau. Giue me your hand before this holy Frier,
I am your husband if you like of me

   Hero. And when I liu'd I was your other wife,
And when you lou'd, you were my other husband

   Clau. Another Hero?
  Hero. Nothing certainer.
One Hero died, but I doe liue,
And surely as I liue, I am a maid

   Prin. The former Hero, Hero that is dead

   Leon. Shee died my Lord, but whiles her slander liu'd

   Frier. All this amazement can I qualifie,
When after that the holy rites are ended,
Ile tell you largely of faire Heroes death:
Meane time let wonder seeme familiar,
And to the chappell let vs presently

   Ben. Soft and faire Frier, which is Beatrice?
  Beat. I answer to that name, what is your will?
  Bene. Doe not you loue me?
  Beat. Why no, no more then reason

   Bene. Why then your Vncle, and the Prince, & Claudio,
haue beene deceiued, they swore you did

   Beat. Doe not you loue mee?
  Bene. Troth no, no more then reason

   Beat. Why then my Cosin Margaret and Vrsula
Are much deceiu'd, for they did sweare you did

   Bene. They swore you were almost sicke for me

   Beat. They swore you were wel-nye dead for me

   Bene. 'Tis no matter, then you doe not loue me?
  Beat. No truly, but in friendly recompence

   Leon. Come Cosin, I am sure you loue the gentlema[n]

   Clau. And Ile be sworne vpon't, that he loues her,
For heres a paper written in his hand,
A halting sonnet of his owne pure braine,
Fashioned to Beatrice

   Hero. And heeres another,
Writ in my cosins hand, stolne from her pocket,
Containing her affection vnto Benedicke

   Bene. A miracle, here's our owne hands against our
hearts: come I will haue thee, but by this light I take
thee for pittie

   Beat. I would not denie you, but by this good day, I
yeeld vpon great perswasion, & partly to saue your life,
for I was told, you were in a consumption

   Leon. Peace I will stop your mouth

   Prin. How dost thou Benedicke the married man?
  Bene. Ile tell thee what Prince: a Colledge of witte-crackers
cannot flout mee out of my humour, dost thou
think I care for a Satyre or an Epigram? no, if a man will
be beaten with braines, a shall weare nothing handsome
about him: in briefe, since I do purpose to marry, I will
thinke nothing to any purpose that the world can say against
it, and therefore neuer flout at me, for I haue said
against it: for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion:
for thy part Claudio, I did thinke to haue beaten
thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, liue vnbruis'd,
and loue my cousin

   Cla. I had well hop'd y wouldst haue denied Beatrice, y
I might haue cudgel'd thee out of thy single life, to make
thee a double dealer, which out of questio[n] thou wilt be,
if my Cousin do not looke exceeding narrowly to thee

   Bene. Come, come, we are friends, let's haue a dance
ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts,
and our wiues heeles

   Leon. Wee'll haue dancing afterward

   Bene. First, of my word, therfore play musick. Prince,
thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife, there is no
staff more reuerend then one tipt with horn.
Enter. Mes.

  Messen. My Lord, your brother Iohn is tane in flight,
And brought with armed men backe to Messina

   Bene. Thinke not on him till to morrow, ile deuise
thee braue punishments for him: strike vp Pipers.

Dance.

FINIS. Much adoe about Nothing.


Loues Labour's lost

Actus primus.

Enter Ferdinand King of Nauarre, Berowne, Longauill, and
Dumane.

  Ferdinand. Let Fame, that all hunt after in their liues,
Liue registred vpon our brazen Tombes,
And then grace vs in the disgrace of death:
when spight of cormorant deuouring Time,
Th' endeuour of this present breath may buy:
That honour which shall bate his sythes keene edge,
And make vs heyres of all eternitie.
Therefore braue Conquerours, for so you are,
That warre against your owne affections,
And the huge Armie of the worlds desires.
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force,
Nauar shall be the wonder of the world.
Our Court shall be a little Achademe,
Still and contemplatiue in liuing Art.
You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longauill,
Haue sworne for three yeeres terme, to liue with me:
My fellow Schollers, and to keepe those statutes
That are recorded in this scedule heere.
Your oathes are past, and now subscribe your names:
That his owne hand may strike his honour downe,
That violates the smallest branch heerein:
If you are arm'd to doe, as sworne to do,
Subscribe to your deepe oathes, and keepe it to

   Longauill. I am resolu'd, 'tis but a three yeeres fast:
The minde shall banquet, though the body pine,
Fat paunches haue leane pates: and dainty bits,
Make rich the ribs, but bankerout the wits

   Dumane. My louing Lord, Dumane is mortified,
The grosser manner of these worlds delights,
He throwes vpon the grosse worlds baser slaues:
To loue, to wealth, to pompe, I pine and die,
With all these liuing in Philosophie

   Berowne. I can but say their protestation ouer,
So much, deare Liege, I haue already sworne,
That is, to liue and study heere three yeeres.
But there are other strict obseruances:
As not to see a woman in that terme,
Which I hope well is not enrolled there.
And one day in a weeke to touch no foode:
And but one meale on euery day beside:
The which I hope is not enrolled there.
And then to sleepe but three houres in the night,
And not be seene to winke of all the day.
When I was wont to thinke no harme all night,
And make a darke night too of halfe the day:
Which I hope well is not enrolled there.
O, these are barren taskes, too hard to keepe,
Not to see Ladies, study, fast, not sleepe

   Ferd. Your oath is past, to passe away from these

   Berow. Let me say no my Liedge, and if you please,
I onely swore to study with your grace,
And stay heere in your Court for three yeeres space

   Longa. You swore to that Berowne, and to the rest

   Berow. By yea and nay sir, than I swore in iest.
What is the end of study, let me know?
  Fer. Why that to know which else wee should not
know

   Ber. Things hid & bard (you meane) fro[m] co[m]mon sense

   Ferd. I, that is studies god-like recompence

   Bero. Come on then, I will sweare to studie so,
To know the thing I am forbid to know:
As thus, to study where I well may dine,
When I to fast expressely am forbid.
Or studie where to meete some Mistresse fine,
When Mistresses from common sense are hid.
Or hauing sworne too hard a keeping oath,
Studie to breake it, and not breake my troth.
If studies gaine be thus, and this be so,
Studie knowes that which yet it doth not know,
Sweare me to this, and I will nere say no

   Ferd. These be the stops that hinder studie quite,
And traine our intellects to vaine delight

   Ber. Why? all delights are vaine, and that most vaine
Which with paine purchas'd, doth inherit paine,
As painefully to poare vpon a Booke,
To seeke the light of truth, while truth the while
Doth falsely blinde the eye-sight of his looke:
Light seeking light, doth light of light beguile:
So ere you finde where light in darkenesse lies,
Your light growes darke by losing of your eyes.
Studie me how to please the eye indeede,
By fixing it vpon a fairer eye,
Who dazling so, that eye shall be his heed,
And giue him light that it was blinded by.
Studie is like the heauens glorious Sunne,
That will not be deepe search'd with sawcy lookes:
Small haue continuall plodders euer wonne,
Saue base authoritie from others Bookes.
These earthly Godfathers of heauens lights,
That giue a name to euery fixed Starre,
Haue no more profit of their shining nights,
Then those that walke and wot not what they are.
Too much to know, is to know nought but fame:
And euery Godfather can giue a name

   Fer. How well hee's read, to reason against reading

   Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding

   Lon. Hee weedes the corne, and still lets grow the
weeding

   Ber. The Spring is neare when greene geesse are a
breeding

   Dum. How followes that?
  Ber. Fit in his place and time

   Dum. In reason nothing

   Ber. Something then in rime

   Ferd. Berowne is like an enuious sneaping Frost,
That bites the first borne infants of the Spring

   Ber. Wel, say I am, why should proud Summer boast,
Before the Birds haue any cause to sing?
Why should I ioy in any abortiue birth?
At Christmas I no more desire a Rose,
Then wish a Snow in Mayes new fangled showes:
But like of each thing that in season growes.
So you to studie now it is too late,
That were to clymbe ore the house to vnlocke the gate

   Fer. Well, sit you out: go home Berowne: adue

   Ber. No my good Lord, I haue sworn to stay with you.
And though I haue for barbarisme spoke more,
Then for that Angell knowledge you can say,
Yet confident Ile keepe what I haue sworne,
And bide the pennance of each three yeares day.
Giue me the paper, let me reade the same,
And to the strictest decrees Ile write my name

   Fer. How well this yeelding rescues thee from shame

   Ber. Item. That no woman shall come within a mile
of my Court.
Hath this bin proclaimed?
  Lon. Foure dayes agoe

   Ber. Let's see the penaltie.
On paine of loosing her tongue.
Who deuis'd this penaltie?
  Lon. Marry that did I

   Ber. Sweete Lord, and why?
  Lon. To fright them hence with that dread penaltie,
A dangerous law against gentilitie.
Item, If any man be seene to talke with a woman within
the tearme of three yeares, hee shall indure such
publique shame as the rest of the Court shall possibly
deuise

   Ber. This Article my Liedge your selfe must breake,
For well you know here comes in Embassie
The French Kings daughter, with your selfe to speake:
A Maide of grace and compleate maiestie,
About surrender vp of Aquitaine:
To her decrepit, sicke, and bed-rid Father.
Therefore this Article is made in vaine,
Or vainly comes th' admired Princesse hither

   Fer. What say you Lords?
Why, this was quite forgot

   Ber. So Studie euermore is ouershot,
While it doth study to haue what it would,
It doth forget to doe the thing it should:
And when it hath the thing it hunteth most,
'Tis won as townes with fire, so won, so lost

   Fer. We must of force dispence with this Decree,
She must lye here on meere necessitie

   Ber. Necessity will make vs all forsworne
Three thousand times within this three yeeres space:
For euery man with his affects is borne,
Not by might mastred, but by speciall grace.
If I breake faith, this word shall breake for me,
I am forsworne on meere necessitie.
So to the Lawes at large I write my name,
And he that breakes them in the least degree,
Stands in attainder of eternall shame.
Suggestions are to others as to me:
But I beleeue although I seeme so loth,
I am the last that will last keepe his oth.
But is there no quicke recreation granted?
  Fer. I that there is, our Court you know is hanted
With a refined trauailer of Spaine,
A man in all the worlds new fashion planted,
That hath a mint of phrases in his braine:
One, who the musicke of his owne vaine tongue,
Doth rauish like inchanting harmonie:
A man of complements whom right and wrong
Haue chose as vmpire of their mutinie.
This childe of fancie that Armado hight,
For interim to our studies shall relate,
In high-borne words the worth of many a Knight:
From tawnie Spaine lost in the worlds debate.
How you delight my Lords, I know not I,
But I protest I loue to heare him lie,
And I will vse him for my Minstrelsie

   Bero. Armado is a most illustrious wight,
A man of fire, new words, fashions owne Knight

   Lon. Costard the swaine and he, shall be our sport,
And so to studie, three yeeres is but short.
Enter a Constable with Costard with a Letter.

  Const. Which is the Dukes owne person

   Ber. This fellow, What would'st?
  Con. I my selfe reprehend his owne person, for I am
his graces Tharborough: But I would see his own person
in flesh and blood

   Ber. This is he

   Con. Signeor Arme, Arme commends you:
Ther's villanie abroad, this letter will tell you more

   Clow. Sir the Contempts thereof are as touching
mee

   Fer. A letter from the magnificent Armado

   Ber. How low soeuer the matter, I hope in God for
high words

   Lon. A high hope for a low heauen, God grant vs patience

   Ber. To heare, or forbeare hearing

   Lon. To heare meekely sir, and to laugh moderately,
or to forbeare both

   Ber. Well sir, be it as the stile shall giue vs cause to
clime in the merrinesse

   Clo. The matter is to me sir, as concerning Iaquenetta.
The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner

   Ber. In what manner?
  Clo. In manner and forme following sir all those three.
I was seene with her in the Mannor house, sitting with
her vpon the Forme, and taken following her into the
Parke: which put to gether, is in manner and forme
following. Now sir for the manner; It is the manner
of a man to speake to a woman, for the forme in some
forme

   Ber. For the following sir

   Clo. As it shall follow in my correction, and God defend
the right

   Fer. Will you heare this Letter with attention?
  Ber. As we would heare an Oracle

   Clo. Such is the simplicitie of man to harken after the
flesh

   Ferdinand. Great Deputie, the Welkins Vicegerent, and sole
dominator
of Nauar, my soules earths God, and bodies fostring
patrone:
  Cost. Not a word of Costard yet

   Ferd. So it is

   Cost. It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is in telling
true: but so

   Ferd. Peace,
  Clow. Be to me, and euery man that dares not fight

   Ferd. No words,
  Clow. Of other mens secrets I beseech you

   Ferd. So it is besieged with sable coloured melancholie, I
did commend the blacke oppressing humour to the most
wholesome
Physicke of thy health-giuing ayre: And as I am a Gentleman,
betooke my selfe to walke: the time When? about the
sixt houre, When beasts most grase, birds best pecke, and men
sit downe to that nourishment which is called supper: So much
for the time When. Now for the ground Which? which I
meane I walkt vpon, it is ycliped, Thy Parke. Then for the
place Where? where I meane I did encounter that obscene and
most preposterous euent that draweth from my snow-white pen
the ebon coloured Inke, which heere thou viewest, beholdest:
suruayest, or seest. But to the place Where? It standeth
North North-east and by East from the West corner of thy
curious knotted garden; There did I see that low spirited
Swaine, that base Minow of thy myrth,
  Clown. Mee?
  Ferd. that vnletered small knowing soule,
  Clow Me?
  Ferd. that shallow
vassall
  Clow. Still mee?)
  Ferd. which as I remember, hight Costard,
  Clow. O me)
  Ferd. sorted and consorted contrary to thy established
proclaymed Edict and Continent, Cannon: Which
with, o with, but with this I passion to say wherewith:
  Clo. With a Wench

   Ferd. With a childe of our Grandmother Eue, a female;
or for thy more sweet understanding a woman: him, I (as my
euer esteemed dutie prickes me on) haue sent to thee, to receiue
the meed of punishment by the sweet Graces Officer Anthony
Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, & estimation

   Anth. Me, an't shall please you? I am Anthony Dull

   Ferd. For Iaquenetta (so is the weaker vessell called)
which I apprehended with the aforesaid Swaine, I keepe her
as a vessell of thy Lawes furie, and shall at the least of thy
sweet notice, bring her to triall. Thine in all complements of
deuoted and heart-burning heat of dutie.
Don Adriana de Armado

   Ber. This is not so well as I looked for, but the best
that euer I heard

   Fer. I the best, for the worst. But sirra, What say you
to this?
  Clo. Sir I confesse the Wench

   Fer. Did you heare the Proclamation?
  Clo. I doe confesse much of the hearing it, but little
of the marking of it

   Fer. It was proclaimed a yeeres imprisonment to bee
taken with a Wench

   Clow. I was taken with none sir, I was taken with a
Damosell

   Fer. Well, it was proclaimed Damosell

   Clo. This was no Damosell neyther sir, shee was a
Virgin

   Fer. It is so varried to, for it was proclaimed Virgin

   Clo. If it were, I denie her Virginitie: I was taken
with a Maide

   Fer. This Maid will not serue your turne sir

   Clo. This Maide will serue my turne sir

   Kin. Sir I will pronounce your sentence: You shall
fast a Weeke with Branne and water

   Clo. I had rather pray a Moneth with Mutton and
Porridge

   Kin. And Don Armado shall be your keeper.
My Lord Berowne, see him deliuer'd ore,
And goe we Lords to put in practice that,
Which each to other hath so strongly sworne

   Bero. Ile lay my head to any good mans hat,
These oathes and lawes will proue an idle scorne.
Sirra, come on

   Clo. I suffer for the truth sir: for true it is, I was taken
with Iaquenetta, and Iaquenetta is a true girle, and
therefore welcome the sowre cup of prosperitie, affliction
may one day smile againe, and vntill then sit downe
sorrow.
Enter.

Enter Armado and Moth his Page.

  Arma. Boy, What signe is it when a man of great
spirit growes melancholy?
  Boy. A great signe sir, that he will looke sad

   Brag. Why? sadnesse is one and the selfe-same thing
deare impe

   Boy. No no, O Lord sir no

   Brag. How canst thou part sadnesse and melancholy
my tender Iuuenall?
  Boy. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my
tough signeur

   Brag. Why tough signeur? Why tough signeur?
  Boy. Why tender Iuuenall? Why tender Iuuenall?
  Brag. I spoke it tender Iuuenall, as a congruent apathaton,
appertaining to thy young daies, which we may
nominate tender

   Boy. And I tough signeur, as an appertinent title to
your olde time, which we may name tough

   Brag. Pretty and apt

   Boy. How meane you sir, I pretty, and my saying apt?
or I apt, and my saying prettie?
  Brag. Thou pretty because little

   Boy. Little pretty, because little: wherefore apt?
  Brag. And therefore apt, because quicke

   Boy. Speake you this in my praise Master?
  Brag. In thy condigne praise

   Boy. I will praise an Eele with the same praise

   Brag. What? that an Eele is ingenuous

   Boy. That an Eele is quicke

   Brag. I doe say thou art quicke in answeres. Thou
heat'st my bloud

   Boy. I am answer'd sir

   Brag. I loue not to be crost

   Boy. He speakes the meere contrary, crosses loue not him

   Br. I haue promis'd to study iij. yeres with the Duke

   Boy. You may doe it in an houre sir

   Brag. Impossible

   Boy. How many is one thrice told?
  Bra. I am ill at reckning, it fits the spirit of a Tapster

   Boy. You are a gentleman and a gamester sir

   Brag. I confesse both, they are both the varnish of a
compleat man

   Boy. Then I am sure you know how much the grosse
summe of deus-ace amounts to

   Brag. It doth amount to one more then two

   Boy. Which the base vulgar call three

   Br. True

   Boy. Why sir is this such a peece of study?
Now here's three studied, ere you'll thrice wink, & how
easie it is to put yeres to the word three, and study three
yeeres in two words, the dancing horse will tell you

   Brag. A most fine Figure

   Boy. To proue you a Cypher

   Brag. I will heereupon confesse I am in loue: and as
it is base for a Souldier to loue; so am I in loue with a
base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour
of affection, would deliuer mee from the reprobate
thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and ransome
him to any French Courtier for a new deuis'd curtsie. I
thinke scorne to sigh, me thinkes I should out-sweare
Cupid. Comfort me Boy, What great men haue beene
in loue?
  Boy. Hercules Master

   Brag. Most sweete Hercules: more authority deare
Boy, name more; and sweet my childe let them be men
of good repute and carriage

   Boy. Sampson Master, he was a man of good carriage,
great carriage: for hee carried the Towne-gates on his
backe like a Porter: and he was in loue

   Brag. O well-knit Sampson, strong ioynted Sampson;
I doe excell thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst mee
in carrying gates. I am in loue too. Who was Sampsons
loue my deare Moth?
  Boy. A Woman, Master

   Brag. Of what complexion?
  Boy. Of all the foure, or the three, or the two, or one
of the foure

   Brag. Tell me precisely of what complexion?
  Boy. Of the sea-water Greene sir

   Brag. Is that one of the foure complexions?
  Boy. As I haue read sir, and the best of them too

   Brag. Greene indeed is the colour of Louers: but to
haue a Loue of that colour, methinkes Sampson had small
reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit

   Boy. It was so sir, for she had a greene wit

   Brag. My Loue is most immaculate white and red

   Boy. Most immaculate thoughts Master, are mask'd
vnder such colours

   Brag. Define, define, well educated infant

   Boy. My fathers witte, and my mothers tongue assist
mee

   Brag. Sweet inuocation of a childe, most pretty and
patheticall

   Boy. If shee be made of white and red,
Her faults will nere be knowne:
For blushin cheekes by faults are bred,
And feares by pale white showne:
Then if she feare, or be to blame,
By this you shall not know,
For still her cheekes possesse the same,
Which natiue she doth owe:
A dangerous rime master against the reason of white
and redde

   Brag. Is there not a ballet Boy, of the King and the
Begger?
  Boy. The world was very guilty of such a Ballet some
three ages since, but I thinke now 'tis not to be found: or
if it were, it would neither serue for the writing, nor the
tune

   Brag. I will haue that subiect newly writ ore, that I
may example my digression by some mighty president.
Boy, I doe loue that Countrey girle that I tooke in
the Parke with the rationall hinde Costard: she deserues
well

   Boy. To bee whip'd: and yet a better loue then my
Master

   Brag. Sing Boy, my spirit grows heauy in loue

   Boy. And that's great maruell, louing a light wench

   Brag. I say sing

   Boy. Forbeare till this company be past.
Enter Clowne, Constable, and Wench.

  Const. Sir, the Dukes pleasure, is that you keepe Costard
safe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no
penance, but hee must fast three daies a weeke: for this
Damsell, I must keepe her at the Parke, shee is alowd for
the Day-woman. Fare you well.
Enter.

  Brag. I do betray my selfe with blushing: Maide

   Maid. Man

   Brag. I wil visit thee at the Lodge

   Maid. That's here by

   Brag. I know where it is situate

   Mai. Lord how wise you are!
  Brag. I will tell thee wonders

   Ma. With what face?
  Brag. I loue thee

   Mai. So I heard you say

   Brag. And so farewell

   Mai. Faire weather after you

   Clo. Come Iaquenetta, away.

Exeunt.

  Brag. Villaine, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere
thou be pardoned

   Clo. Well sir, I hope when I doe it, I shall doe it on a
full stomacke

   Brag. Thou shalt be heauily punished

   Clo. I am more bound to you then your fellowes, for
they are but lightly rewarded

   Clo. Take away this villaine, shut him vp

   Boy. Come you transgressing slaue, away

   Clow. Let mee not bee pent vp sir, I will fast being
loose

   Boy. No sir, that were fast and loose: thou shalt to
prison

   Clow. Well, if euer I do see the merry dayes of desolation
that I haue seene, some shall see

   Boy. What shall some see?
  Clow. Nay nothing, Master Moth, but what they
looke vpon. It is not for prisoners to be silent in their
words, and therefore I will say nothing: I thanke God, I
haue as little patience as another man, and therefore I
can be quiet.
Enter.

  Brag. I doe affect the very ground (which is base)
where her shooe (which is baser) guided by her foote
(which is basest) doth tread. I shall be forsworn (which
is a great argument of falshood) if I loue. And how can
that be true loue, which is falsly attempted? Loue is a familiar,
Loue is a Diuell. There is no euill Angell but
Loue, yet Sampson was so tempted, and he had an excellent
strength: Yet was Salomon so seduced, and hee had
a very good witte. Cupids Butshaft is too hard for Hercules
Clubbe, and therefore too much ods for a Spaniards
Rapier: The first and second cause will not serue
my turne: the Passado hee respects not, the Duello he
regards not; his disgrace is to be called Boy, but his
glorie is to subdue men. Adue Valour, rust Rapier, bee
still Drum, for your manager is in loue; yea hee loueth.
Assist me some extemporall god of Rime, for I am sure I
shall turne Sonnet. Deuise Wit, write Pen, for I am for
whole volumes in folio.

Enter.


Finis Actus Primus.


Actus Secunda.

Enter the Princesse of France, with three attending Ladies, and
three
Lords

   Boyet. Now Madam summon vp your dearest spirits,
Consider who the King your father sends:
To whom he sends, and what's his Embassie.
Your selfe, held precious in the worlds esteeme,
To parlee with the sole inheritour
Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matchlesse Nauarre, the plea of no lesse weight
Then Aquitaine, a Dowrie for a Queene,
Be now as prodigall of all deare grace,
As Nature was in making Graces deare,
When she did starue the generall world beside,
And prodigally gaue them all to you

   Queen. Good L[ord]. Boyet, my beauty though but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:
Beauty is bought by iudgement of the eye,
Not vttred by base sale of chapmens tongues:
I am lesse proud to heare you tell my worth,
Then you much willing to be counted wise,
In spending your wit in the praise of mine.
But now to taske the tasker, good Boyet

   Prin. You are not ignorant all-telling fame
Doth noyse abroad Nauar hath made a vow,
Till painefull studie shall out-weare three yeares,
No woman may approach his silent Court:
Therefore to's seemeth it a needfull course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure, and in that behalfe
Bold of your worthinesse, we single you,
As our best mouing faire soliciter:
Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,
On serious businesse crauing quicke dispatch,
Importunes personall conference with his grace.
Haste, signifie so much while we attend,
Like humble visag'd suters his high will

   Boy. Proud of imployment, willingly I goe.
Enter.

  Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so:
Who are the Votaries my Louing Lords, that are vow-fellowes
with this vertuous Duke?
  Lor. Longauill is one

   Princ. Know you the man?
  1 Lady. I know him Madame at a marriage feast,
Betweene L[ord]. Perigort and the beautious heire
Of Iaques Fauconbridge solemnized.
In Normandie saw I this Longauill,
A man of soueraigne parts he is esteem'd:
Well fitted in Arts, glorious in Armes:
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
The onely soyle of his faire vertues glosse,
If vertues glosse will staine with any soile,
Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a Will:
Whose edge hath power to cut whose will still wills,
It should none spare that come within his power

   Prin. Some merry mocking Lord belike, ist so?
  Lad.1. They say so most, that most his humors know

   Prin. such short liu'd wits do wither as they grow.
Who are the rest?
  2.Lad. The yong Dumaine, a well accomplisht youth,
Of all that Vertue loue, for Vertue loued.
Most power to doe most harme, least knowing ill:
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
And shape to win grace though she had no wit.
I saw him at the Duke Alansoes once,
And much too little of that good I saw,
Is my report to his great worthinesse

   Rossa. Another of these Students at that time,
Was there with him, as I haue heard a truth.
Berowne they call him, but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becomming mirth,
I neuer spent an houres talke withall.
His eye begets occasion for his wit,
For euery obiect that the one doth catch,
The other turnes to a mirth-mouing iest.
Which his faire tongue (conceits expositor)
Deliuers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged eares play treuant at his tales,
And yonger hearings are quite rauished.
So sweet and voluble is his discourse

   Prin. God blesse my Ladies, are they all in loue?
That euery one her owne hath garnished,
With such bedecking ornaments of praise

   Ma. Heere comes Boyet.
Enter Boyet.

  Prin. Now, what admittance Lord?
  Boyet. Nauar had notice of your faire approach;
And he and his competitors in oath,
Were all addrest to meete you gentle Lady
Before I came: Marrie thus much I haue learnt,
He rather meanes to lodge you in the field,
Like one that comes heere to besiege his Court,
Then seeke a dispensation for his oath:
To let you enter his vnpeopled house.
Enter Nauar, Longauill, Dumaine, and Berowne.

Heere comes Nauar

   Nau. Faire Princesse, welcom to the Court of Nauar

   Prin. Faire I giue you backe againe, and welcome I
haue not yet: the roofe of this Court is too high to bee
yours, and welcome to the wide fields, too base to be
mine

   Nau. You shall be welcome Madam to my Court

   Prin. I wil be welcome then, Conduct me thither

   Nau. Heare me deare Lady, I haue sworne an oath

   Prin. Our Lady helpe my Lord, he'll be forsworne

   Nau. Not for the world faire Madam, by my will

   Prin. Why, will shall breake it will, and nothing els

   Nau. Your Ladiship is ignorant what it is

   Prin. Were my Lord so, his ignorance were wise,
Where now his knowledge must proue ignorance.
I heare your grace hath sworne out House-keeping:
'Tis deadly sinne to keepe that oath my Lord,
And sinne to breake it:
But pardon me, I am too sodaine bold,
To teach a Teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my comming,
And sodainly resolue me in my suite

   Nau. Madam, I will, if sodainly I may

   Prin. You will the sooner that I were away,
For you'll proue periur'd if you make me stay

   Berow. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
  Rosa. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
  Ber. I know you did

   Rosa. How needlesse was it then to ask the question?
  Ber. You must not be so quicke

   Rosa. 'Tis long of you y spur me with such questions

   Ber. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire

   Rosa. Not till it leaue the Rider in the mire

   Ber. What time a day?
  Rosa. The howre that fooles should aske

   Ber. Now faire befall your maske

   Rosa. Faire fall the face it couers

   Ber. And send you many louers

   Rosa. Amen, so you be none

   Ber. Nay then will I be gone

   Kin. Madame, your father heere doth intimate,
The paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes,
Being but th' one halfe, of an intire summe,
Disbursed by my father in his warres.
But say that he, or we, as neither haue
Receiu'd that summe; yet there remaines vnpaid
A hundred thousand more: in surety of the which,
One part of Aquitaine is bound to vs,
Although not valued to the moneys worth.
If then the King your father will restore
But that one halfe which is vnsatisfied,
We will giue vp our right in Aquitaine,
And hold faire friendship with his Maiestie:
But that it seemes he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to haue repaie,
An hundred thousand Crownes, and not demands
One paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes,
To haue his title liue in Aquitaine.
Which we much rather had depart withall,
And haue the money by our father lent,
Then Aquitane, so guelded as it is.
Deare Princesse, were not his requests so farre
From reasons yeelding, your faire selfe should make
A yeelding 'gainst some reason in my brest,
And goe well satisfied to France againe

   Prin. You doe the King my Father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In so vnseeming to confesse receyt
Of that which hath so faithfully beene paid

   Kin. I doe protest I neuer heard of it,
And if you proue it, Ile repay it backe,
Or yeeld vp Aquitaine

   Prin. We arrest your word:
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a summe, from speciall Officers,
Of Charles his Father

   Kin. Satisfie me so

   Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come
Where that and other specialties are bound,
To morrow you shall haue a sight of them

   Kin. It shall suffice me; at which enterview,
All liberall reason would I yeeld vnto:
Meane time, receiue such welcome at my hand,
As honour, without breach of Honour may
Make tender of, to thy true worthinesse.
You may not come faire Princesse in my gates,
But heere without you shall be so receiu'd,
As you shall deeme your selfe lodg'd in my heart,
Though so deni'd farther harbour in my house:
Your owne good thoughts excuse me, and farewell,
To morrow we shall visit you againe

   Prin. Sweet health & faire desires consort your grace

   Kin. Thy own wish wish I thee, in euery place.
Enter.

  Boy. Lady, I will commend you to my owne heart

   La.Ro. Pray you doe my commendations,
I would be glad to see it

   Boy. I would you heard it grone

   La.Ro. Is the soule sicke?
  Boy. Sicke at the heart

   La.Ro. Alacke, let it bloud

   Boy. Would that doe it good?
  La.Ro. My Phisicke saies I

   Boy. Will you prick't with your eye

   La.Ro. No poynt, with my knife

   Boy. Now God saue thy life

   La.Ro. And yours from long liuing

   Ber. I cannot stay thanks-giuing.
Enter.

Enter Dumane.

  Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: What Lady is that same?
  Boy. The heire of Alanson, Rosalin her name

   Dum. A gallant Lady, Mounsier fare you well

   Long. I beseech you a word: what is she in the white?
  Boy. A woman somtimes, if you saw her in the light

   Long. Perchance light in the light: I desire her name

   Boy. Shee hath but one for her selfe,
To desire that were a shame

   Long. Pray you sir, whose daughter?
  Boy. Her Mothers, I haue heard

   Long. Gods blessing a your beard

   Boy. Good sir be not offended,
Shee is an heyre of Faulconbridge

   Long. Nay, my choller is ended:
Shee is a most sweet Lady.

Exit. Long.

  Boy. Not vnlike sir, that may be.
Enter Beroune.

  Ber. What's her name in the cap

   Boy. Katherine by good hap

   Ber. Is she wedded, or no

   Boy. To her will sir, or so,
  Ber. You are welcome sir, adiew

   Boy. Fare well to me sir, and welcome to you.
Enter.

  La.Ma. That last is Beroune, the mery mad-cap Lord.
Not a word with him, but a iest

   Boy. And euery iest but a word

   Pri. It was well done of you to take him at his word

   Boy. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to boord

   La.Ma. Two hot Sheepes marie:
And wherefore not Ships?
  Boy. No Sheepe (sweet Lamb) vnlesse we feed on your lips

   La. You Sheepe & I pasture: shall that finish the iest?
  Boy. So you grant pasture for me

   La. Not so gentle beast.
My lips are no Common, though seuerall they be

   Bo. Belonging to whom?
  La. To my fortunes and me

   Prin. Good wits wil be iangling, but gentles agree.
This ciuill warre of wits were much better vsed
On Nauar and his bookemen, for heere 'tis abus'd

   Bo. If my obseruation (which very seldome lies
By the hearts still rhetoricke, disclosed with eyes)
Deceiue me not now, Nauar is infected

   Prin. With what?
  Bo. With that which we Louers intitle affected

   Prin. Your reason

   Bo. Why all his behauiours doe make their retire,
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire.
His hart like an Agot with your print impressed,
Proud with his forme, in his eie pride expressed.
His tongue all impatient to speake and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eie-sight to be,
All sences to that sence did make their repaire,
To feele onely looking on fairest of faire:
Me thought all his sences were lockt in his eye,
As Iewels in Christall for some Prince to Buy.
Who tendring their own worth from whence they were glast,
Did point out to buy them along as you past.
His faces owne margent did coate such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eies inchanted with gazes.
Ile giue you Aquitaine, and all that is his,
And you giue him for my sake, but one louing Kisse

   Prin. Come to our Pauillion, Boyet is disposde

   Bro. But to speak that in words, which his eie hath disclos'd.
I onelie haue made a mouth of his eie,
By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie

   Lad.Ro. Thou art an old Loue-monger, and speakest
skilfully

   Lad.Ma. He is Cupids Grandfather, and learnes news
of him

   Lad.2. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father
is but grim

   Boy. Do you heare my mad wenches?
  La.1. No

   Boy. What then, do you see?
  Lad.2. I, our way to be gone

   Boy. You are too hard for me.

Exeunt. omnes.


Actus Tertius.

Enter Braggart and Boy.

Song.

  Bra. Warble childe, make passionate my sense of hearing

   Boy. Concolinel

   Brag. Sweete Ayer, go tendernesse of yeares: take
this Key, giue enlargement to the swaine, bring him festinatly
hither: I must imploy him in a letter to my
Loue

   Boy. Will you win your loue with a French braule?
  Bra. How meanest thou, brauling in French?
  Boy. No my compleat master, but to Iigge off a tune
at the tongues end, canarie to it with the feete, humour
it with turning vp your eie: sigh a note and sing a note,
sometime through the throate: if you swallowed loue
with singing, loue sometime through: nose as if you
snuft vp loue by smelling loue with your hat penthouselike
ore the shop of your eies, with your armes crost on
your thinbellie doublet, like a Rabbet on a spit, or your
hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting,
and keepe not too long in one tune, but a snip and away:
these are complements, these are humours, these betraie
nice wenches that would be betraied without these, and
make them men of note: do you note men that most are
affected to these?
  Brag. How hast thou purchased this experience?
  Boy. By my penne of obseruation

   Brag. But O, but O

   Boy. The Hobbie-horse is forgot

   Bra. Cal'st thou my loue Hobbi-horse

   Boy. No Master, the Hobbie-horse is but a Colt, and
and your Loue perhaps, a Hacknie:
but haue you forgot your Loue?
  Brag. Almost I had

   Boy. Negligent student, learne her by heart

   Brag. By heart, and in heart Boy

   Boy. And out of heart Master: all those three I will
proue

   Brag. What wilt thou proue?
  Boy. A man, if I liue (and this) by, in, and without, vpon
the instant: by heart you loue her, because your heart
cannot come by her: in heart you loue her, because your
heart is in loue with her: and out of heart you loue her,
being out of heart that you cannot enioy her

   Brag. I am all these three

   Boy. And three times as much more, and yet nothing
at all

   Brag. Fetch hither the Swaine, he must carrie mee a
letter

   Boy. A message well simpathis'd, a Horse to be embassadour
for an Asse

   Brag. Ha, ha, What saiest thou?
  Boy. Marrie sir, you must send the Asse vpon the Horse
for he is verie slow gated: but I goe

   Brag. The way is but short, away

   Boy. As swift as Lead sir

   Brag. Thy meaning prettie ingenious, is not Lead a
mettall heauie, dull, and slow?
  Boy. Minnime honest Master, or rather Master no

   Brag. I say Lead is slow

   Boy. You are too swift sir to say so.
Is that Lead slow which is fir'd from a Gunne?
  Brag. Sweete smoke of Rhetorike,
He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's he:
I shoote thee at the Swaine

   Boy. Thump then, and I flee

   Bra. A most acute Iuuenall, voluble and free of grace,
By thy fauour sweet Welkin, I must sigh in thy face.
Most rude melancholie, Valour giues thee place.
My Herald is return'd.
Enter Page and Clowne.

  Pag. A wonder Master, here's a Costard broken in a
shin

   Ar. Some enigma, some riddle, come, thy Lenuoy
begin

   Clo. No egma, no riddle, no lenuoy, no salue, in thee
male sir. Or sir, Plantan, a plaine Plantan: no lenuoy, no
lenuoy, no Salue sir, but a Plantan

   Ar. By vertue, thou inforcest laughter, thy sillie
thought, my spleene, the heauing of my lunges prouokes
me to rediculous smyling: O pardon me my stars, doth
the inconsiderate take salue for lenuoy, and the word lenuoy
for a salue?
  Pag. Doe the wise thinke them other, is not lenuoy a
salue?
  Ar. No Page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plaine,
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore bin faine.
Now will I begin your morrall, and do you follow with
my lenuoy.
The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee,
Were still at oddes, being but three

   Arm. Vntill the Goose came out of doore,
Staying the oddes by adding foure

   Pag. A good Lenuoy, ending in the Goose: would you
desire more?
  Clo. The Boy hath sold him a bargaine, a Goose, that's flat.
Sir, your penny-worth is good, and your Goose be fat.
To sell a bargaine well is as cunning as fast and loose:
Let me see a fat Lenuoy, I that's a fat Goose

   Ar. Come hither, come hither:
How did this argument begin?
  Boy. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin.
Then cal'd you for the Lenuoy

   Clow. True, and I for a Plantan:
Thus came your argument in:
Then the Boyes fat Lenuoy, the Goose that you bought,
And he ended the market

   Ar. But tell me: How was there a Costard broken in
a shin?
  Pag. I will tell you sencibly

   Clow. Thou hast no feeling of it Moth,
I will speake that Lenuoy.
I Costard running out, that was safely within,
Fell ouer the threshold, and broke my shin

   Arm. We will talke no more of this matter

   Clow. Till there be more matter in the shin

   Arm. Sirra Costard, I will infranchise thee

   Clow. O, marrie me to one Francis, I smell some Lenuoy,
some Goose in this

   Arm. By my sweete soule, I meane, setting thee at libertie.
Enfreedoming thy person: thou wert emured,
restrained, captiuated, bound

   Clow. True, true, and now you will be my purgation,
and let me loose

   Arm. I giue thee thy libertie, set thee from durance,
and in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this:
Beare this significant to the countrey Maide Iaquenetta:
there is remuneration, for the best ward of mine honours
is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow

   Pag. Like the sequell I.
Signeur Costard adew.
Enter.

  Clow. My sweete ounce of mans flesh, my inconie
Iew: Now will I looke to his remuneration.
Remuneration, O, that's the Latine word for three-farthings:
Three-farthings remuneration, What's the price
of this yncle? i.d. no, Ile giue you a remuneration: Why?
It carries it remuneration: Why? It is a fairer name then
a French-Crowne. I will neuer buy and sell out of this
word.
Enter Berowne.

  Ber. O my good knaue Costard, exceedingly well met

   Clow. Pray you sir, How much Carnation Ribbon
may a man buy for a remuneration?
  Ber. What is a remuneration?
  Cost. Marrie sir, halfe pennie farthing

   Ber. O, Why then threefarthings worth of Silke

   Cost. I thanke your worship, God be wy you

   Ber. O stay slaue, I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my fauour, good my knaue,
Doe one thing for me that I shall intreate

   Clow. When would you haue it done sir?
  Ber. O this after-noone

   Clo. Well, I will doe it sir: Fare you well

   Ber. O thou knowest not what it is

   Clo. I shall know sir, when I haue done it

   Ber. Why villaine thou must know first

   Clo. I wil come to your worship to morrow morning

   Ber. It must be done this after-noone,
Harke slaue, it is but this:
The Princesse comes to hunt here in the Parke,
And in her traine there is a gentle Ladie:
When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name,
And Rosaline they call her, aske for her:
And to her white hand see thou do commend
This seal'd-vp counsaile. Ther's thy guerdon: goe

   Clo. Gardon, O sweete gardon, better then remuneration,
a leuenpence-farthing better: most sweete gardon.
I will doe it sir in print: gardon, remuneration.
Enter.

  Ber. O, and I forsooth in loue,
I that haue beene loues whip?
A verie Beadle to a humerous sigh: A Criticke,
Nay, a night-watch Constable.
A domineering pedant ore the Boy,
Then whom no mortall so magnificent,
This wimpled, whyning, purblinde waiward Boy,
This signior Iunios gyant dwarfe, don Cupid,
Regent of Loue-rimes, Lord of folded armes,
Th' annointed soueraigne of sighes and groanes:
Liedge of all loyterers and malecontents:
Dread Prince of Placcats, King of Codpeeces.
Sole Emperator and great generall
Of trotting Parrators (O my little heart.)
And I to be a Corporall of his field,
And weare his colours like a Tumblers hoope.
What? I loue, I sue, I seeke a wife,
A woman that is like a Germane Cloake,
Still a repairing: euer out of frame,
And neuer going a right, being a Watch:
But being watcht, that it may still goe right.
Nay, to be periurde, which is worst of all:
And among three, to loue the worst of all,
A whitly wanton, with a veluet brow.
With two pitch bals stucke in her face for eyes.
I, and by heauen, one that will doe the deede,
Though Argus were her Eunuch and her garde.
And I to sigh for her, to watch for her,
To pray for her, go to: it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect,
Of his almighty dreadfull little might.
Well, I will loue, write, sigh, pray, shue, grone,
Some men must loue my Lady, and some Ione.

Actus Quartus.

Enter the Princesse, a Forrester, her Ladies, and her Lords.

  Qu. Was that the King that spurd his horse so hard,
Against the steepe vprising of the hill?
  Boy. I know not, but I thinke it was not he

   Qu. Who ere a was, a shew'd a mounting minde:
Well Lords, to day we shall haue our dispatch,
On Saterday we will returne to France.
Then Forrester my friend, Where is the Bush
That we must stand and play the murtherer in?
  For. Hereby vpon the edge of yonder Coppice,
A stand where you may make the fairest shoote

   Qu. I thanke my beautie, I am faire that shoote,
And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoote

   For. Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so

   Qu. What, what? First praise me, & then again say no.
O short liu'd pride. Not faire? alacke for woe

   For. Yes Madam faire

   Qu. Nay, neuer paint me now,
Where faire is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here (good my glasse) take this for telling true:
Faire paiment for foule words, is more then due

   For. Nothing but faire is that which you inherit

   Qu. See, see, my beautie will be sau'd by merit.
O heresie in faire, fit for these dayes,
A giuing hand, though foule, shall haue faire praise.
But come, the Bow: Now Mercie goes to kill,
And shooting well, is then accounted ill:
Thus will I saue my credit in the shoote,
Not wounding, pittie would not let me do't:
If wounding, then it was to shew my skill,
That more for praise, then purpose meant to kill.
And out of question, so it is sometimes:
Glory growes guiltie of detested crimes,
When for Fames sake, for praise an outward part,
We bend to that, the working of the hart.
As I for praise alone now seeke to spill
The poore Deeres blood, that my heart meanes no ill

   Boy. Do not curst wiues hold that selfe-soueraigntie
Onely for praise sake, when they striue to be
Lords ore their Lords?
  Qu. Onely for praise, and praise we may afford,
To any Lady that subdewes a Lord.
Enter Clowne.

  Boy. Here comes a member of the common-wealth

   Clo. God dig-you-den all, pray you which is the head
Lady?
  Qu. Thou shalt know her fellow, by the rest that haue
no heads

   Clo. Which is the greatest Lady, the highest?
  Qu. The thickest, and the tallest

   Clo. The thickest, & the tallest: it is so, truth is truth.
And your waste Mistris, were as slender as my wit,
One a these Maides girdles for your waste should be fit.
Are not you the chiefe woma[n]? You are the thickest here?
  Qu. What's your will sir? What's your will?
  Clo. I haue a Letter from Monsier Berowne,
To one Lady Rosaline

   Qu. O thy letter, thy letter: He's a good friend of mine.
Stand a side good bearer.
Boyet, you can carue,
Breake vp this Capon

   Boyet. I am bound to serue.
This Letter is mistooke: it importeth none here:
It is writ to Iaquenetta

   Qu. We will read it, I sweare.
Breake the necke of the Waxe, and euery one giue eare

   Boyet reades. By heauen, that thou art faire, is most infallible:
true
that thou art beauteous, truth it selfe that thou art
louely: more fairer then faire, beautifull then beautious,
truer then truth it selfe: haue comiseration on thy heroicall
Vassall. The magnanimous and most illustrate King
Cophetua set eie vpon the pernicious and indubitate Begger
Zenelophon: and he it was that might rightly say, Veni,
vidi, vici: Which to annothanize in the vulgar, O
base and obscure vulgar; videliset, He came, See, and ouercame:
hee came one; see, two; ouercame three:
Who came? the King. Why did he come? to see. Why
did he see? to ouercome. To whom came he? to the
Begger. What saw he? the Begger. Who ouercame
he? the Begger. The conclusion is victorie: On whose
side? the King: the captiue is inricht: On whose side?
the Beggers. The catastrophe is a Nuptiall: on whose
side? the Kings: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am
the King (for so stands the comparison) thou the Begger,
for so witnesseth thy lowlinesse. Shall I command
thy loue? I may. Shall I enforce thy loue? I could.
Shall I entreate thy loue? I will. What, shalt thou exchange
for ragges, roabes: for tittles titles, for thy selfe
mee. Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on
thy foote, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy
euerie part.
Thine in the dearest designe of industrie,
Don Adriana de Armatho.
Thus dost thou heare the Nemean Lion roare,
Gainst thee thou Lambe, that standest as his pray:
Submissiue fall his princely feete before,
And he from forrage will incline to play.
But if thou striue (poore soule) what art thou then?
Foode for his rage, repasture for his den

   Qu. What plume of feathers is hee that indited this
Letter? What veine? What Wethercocke? Did you
euer heare better?
  Boy. I am much deceiued, but I remember the stile

   Qu. Else your memorie is bad, going ore it erewhile

   Boy. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court
A Phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport
To the Prince and his Booke-mates

   Qu. Thou fellow, a word.
Who gaue thee this Letter?
  Clow. I told you, my Lord

   Qu. To whom should'st thou giue it?
  Clo. From my Lord to my Lady

   Qu. From which Lord, to which Lady?
  Clo. From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine,
To a Lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline

   Qu. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come Lords away.
Here sweete, put vp this, 'twill be thine another day.

Exeunt.

  Boy. Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter?
  Rosa. Shall I teach you to know

   Boy. I my continent of beautie

   Rosa. Why she that beares the Bow. Finely put off

   Boy. My Lady goes to kill hornes, but if thou marrie,
Hang me by the necke, if hornes that yeare miscarrie.
Finely put on

   Rosa. Well then, I am the shooter

   Boy. And who is your Deare?
  Rosa. If we choose by the hornes, your selfe come not
neare. Finely put on indeede

   Maria. You still wrangle with her Boyet, and shee
strikes at the brow

   Boyet. But she her selfe is hit lower:
Haue I hit her now

   Rosa. Shall I come vpon thee with an old saying, that
was a man when King Pippin of France was a little boy, as
touching the hit it

   Boyet. So I may answere thee with one as old that
was a woman when Queene Guinouer of Brittaine was a
little wench, as touching the hit it

   Rosa. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
Thou canst not hit it my good man

   Boy. I cannot, cannot, cannot:
And I cannot, another can.
Enter.

  Clo. By my troth most pleasant, how both did fit it

   Mar. A marke marueilous well shot, for they both
did hit

   Boy. A mark, O marke but that marke: a marke saies
my Lady.
Let the mark haue a pricke in't, to meat at, if it may be

   Mar. Wide a'th bow hand, yfaith your hand is out

   Clo. Indeede a' must shoote nearer, or heele ne're hit
the clout

   Boy. And if my hand be out, then belike your hand
is in

   Clo. Then will shee get the vpshoot by cleauing the
is in

   Ma. Come, come, you talke greasely, your lips grow
foule

   Clo. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir challenge her
to boule

   Boy. I feare too much rubbing: good night my good
Oule

   Clo. By my soule a Swaine, a most simple Clowne.
Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I haue put him downe.
O my troth most sweete iests, most inconie vulgar wit,
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were,
so fit.
Armathor ath to the side, O a most dainty man.
To see him walke before a Lady, and to beare her Fan.
To see him kisse his hand, and how most sweetly a will
sweare:
And his Page atother side, that handfull of wit,
Ah heauens, it is most patheticall nit.
Sowla, sowla.

Exeunt. Shoote within.

Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel.

  Nat. Very reuerent sport truely, and done in the testimony
of a good conscience

   Ped. The Deare was (as you know) sanguis in blood,
ripe as a Pomwater who now hangeth like a Iewell in
the eare of Celo the skie; the welken the heauen, and anon
falleth like a Crab on the face of Terra, the soyle, the
land, the earth

   Curat.Nath. Truely M[aster]. Holofernes, the epythithes are
sweetly varied like a scholler at the least: but sir I assure
ye, it was a Bucke of the first head

   Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo

   Dul. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket

   Hol. Most barbarous intimation: yet a kinde of insinuation,
as it were in via, in way of explication facere: as
it were replication, or rather ostentare, to show as it were
his inclination after his vndressed, vnpolished, vneducated,
vnpruned, vntrained, or rather vnlettered, or ratherest
vnconfirmed fashion, to insert againe my haud credo
for a Deare

   Dul. I said the Deare was not a haud credo, 'twas a
Pricket

   Hol. Twice sod simplicitie, bis coctus, O thou monster
Ignorance, how deformed doost thou looke

   Nath. Sir hee hath neuer fed of the dainties that are
bred in a booke.
He hath not eate paper as it were:
He hath not drunke inke.
His intellect is not replenished, hee is onely an animall,
onely sensible in the duller parts: and such barren plants
are set before vs, that we thankfull should be: which we
taste and feeling, are for those parts that doe fructifie in
vs more then he.
For as it would ill become me to be vaine, indiscreet, or
a foole;
So were there a patch set on Learning, to see him in a
Schoole.
But omne bene say I, being of an old Fathers minde,
Many can brooke the weather, that loue not the winde

   Dul. You two are book-men: Can you tell by your
wit, What was a month old at Cains birth, that's not fiue
weekes old as yet?
  Hol. Dictisima goodman Dull, dictisima goodman
Dull

   Dul. What is dictima?
  Nath. A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moone

   Hol. The Moone was a month old when Adam was
no more.
And wrought not to fiue-weekes when he came to fiuescore.
Th' allusion holds in the Exchange

   Dul. 'Tis true indeede, the Collusion holds in the
Exchange

   Hol. God comfort thy capacity, I say th' allusion holds
in the Exchange

   Dul. And I say the polusion holds in the Exchange:
for the Moone is neuer but a month old: and I say beside
that, 'twas a Pricket that the Princesse kill'd

   Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you heare an extemporall
Epytaph on the death of the Deare, and to humour
the ignorant call'd the Deare, the Princesse kill'd a
Pricket

   Nath. Perge, good M[aster]. Holofernes, perge, so it shall
please you to abrogate scurilitie

   Hol. I will something affect a letter, for it argues
facilitie.
The prayfull Princesse pearst and prickt
a prettie pleasing Pricket,
Some say a Sore, but not a sore,
till now made sore with shooting.
The Dogges did yell, put ell to Sore,
then Sorrell iumps from thicket:
Or Pricket-sore, or else Sorell,
the people fall a hooting.
If Sore be sore, than ell to Sore,
makes fiftie sores O sorell:
Of one sore I an hundred make
by adding but one more L

   Nath. A rare talent

   Dul. If a talent be a claw, looke how he clawes him
with a talent

   Nath. This is a gift that I haue simple: simple, a foolish
extrauagant spirit, full of formes, figures, shapes, obiects,
Ideas, apprehensions, motions, reuolutions. These
are begot in the ventricle of memorie, nourisht in the
wombe of primater, and deliuered vpon the mellowing
of occasion: but the gift is good in those in whom it is
acute, and I am thankfull for it

   Hol. Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my
parishioners, for their Sonnes are well tutor'd by you,
and their Daughters profit very greatly vnder you: you
are a good member of the common-wealth

   Nath. Me hercle, If their Sonnes be ingenuous, they
shall want no instruction: If their Daughters be capable,
I will put it to them. But Vir sapis qui pauca loquitur, a
soule Feminine saluteth vs.
Enter Iaquenetta and the Clowne.

  Iaqu. God giue you good morrow M[aster]. Person

   Nath. Master Person, quasi Person? And if one should
be perst, Which is the one?
  Clo. Marry M[aster]. Schoolemaster, hee that is likest to a
hogshead

   Nath. Of persing a Hogshead, a good luster of conceit
in a turph of Earth, Fire enough for a Flint, Pearle
enough for a Swine: 'tis prettie, it is well

   Iaqu. Good Master Parson be so good as reade mee
this Letter, it was giuen mee by Costard, and sent mee
from Don Armatho: I beseech you read it

   Nath. Facile precor gellida, quando pecas omnia sub vmbra
ruminat, and so forth. Ah good old Mantuan, I
may speake of thee as the traueiler doth of Venice, vemchie,
vencha, que non te vnde, que non te perreche. Old Mantuan,
old Mantuan. Who vnderstandeth thee not, vt re
sol la mi fa: Vnder pardon sir, What are the contents? or
rather as Horrace sayes in his, What my soule verses

   Hol. I sir, and very learned

   Nath. Let me heare a staffe, a stanze, a verse, Lege domine.
If Loue make me forsworne, how shall I sweare to loue?
Ah neuer faith could hold, if not to beautie vowed.
Though to my selfe forsworn, to thee Ile faithfull proue.
Those thoughts to mee were Okes, to thee like Osiers
bowed.
Studie his byas leaues, and makes his booke thine eyes.
Where all those pleasures liue, that Art would comprehend.
If knowledge be the marke, to know thee shall suffice.
Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee co[m]mend.
All ignorant that soule, that sees thee without wonder.
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire;
Thy eye Ioues lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadfull
thunder.
Which not to anger bent, is musique, and sweete fire.
Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon loue this wrong,
That sings heauens praise, with such an earthly tongue

   Ped. You finde not the apostraphas, and so misse the
accent. Let me superuise the cangenet

   Nath. Here are onely numbers ratified, but for the
elegancy, facility, & golden cadence of poesie caret: Ouiddius
Naso was the man. And why in deed Naso, but
for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the
ierkes of inuention imitarie is nothing: So doth the
Hound his master, the Ape his keeper, the tyred Horse
his rider: But Damosella virgin, Was this directed to
you?
  Iaq. I sir from one mounsier Berowne, one of the
strange Queenes Lords

   Nath. I will ouerglance the superscript.
To the snow-white hand of the most beautious Lady Rosaline.
I will looke againe on the intellect of the Letter, for
the nomination of the partie written to the person written
vnto.
Your Ladiships in all desired imployment, Berowne

   Ped. Sir Holofernes, this Berowne is one of the Votaries
with the King, and here he hath framed a Letter to a sequent
of the stranger Queens: which accidentally, or
by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and
goe my sweete, deliuer this Paper into the hand of the
King, it may concerne much: stay not thy complement, I
forgiue thy duetie, adue

   Maid. Good Costard go with me:
Sir God saue your life

   Cost. Haue with thee my girle.
Enter.

  Hol. Sir you haue done this in the feare of God very
religiously: and as a certaine Father saith
  Ped. Sir tell not me of the Father, I do feare colourable
colours. But to returne to the Verses, Did they please
you sir Nathaniel?
  Nath. Marueilous well for the pen

   Peda. I do dine to day at the fathers of a certaine Pupill
of mine, where if (being repast) it shall please you to
gratifie the table with a Grace, I will on my priuiledge I
haue with the parents of the foresaid Childe or Pupill,
vndertake your bien venuto, where I will proue those
Verses to be very vnlearned, neither sauouring of
Poetrie, Wit, nor Inuention. I beseech your Societie

   Nat. And thanke you to: for societie (saith the text)
is the happinesse of life

   Peda. And certes the text most infallibly concludes it.
Sir I do inuite you too, you shall not say me nay: pauca
verba.
Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our
recreation.

Exeunt.

Enter Berowne with a Paper in his hand, alone.

  Bero. The King he is hunting the Deare,
I am coursing my selfe.
They haue pitcht a Toyle, I am toyling in a pytch,
pitch that defiles; defile, a foule word: Well, set thee
downe sorrow; for so they say the foole said, and so say
I, and I the foole: Well proued wit. By the Lord this
Loue is as mad as Aiax, it kils sheepe, it kils mee, I a
sheepe: Well proued againe a my side. I will not loue;
if I do hang me: yfaith I will not. O but her eye: by
this light, but for her eye, I would not loue her; yes, for
her two eyes. Well, I doe nothing in the world but lye,
and lye in my throate. By heauen I doe loue, and it hath
taught mee to Rime, and to be mallicholie: and here is
part of my Rime, and heere my mallicholie. Well, she
hath one a'my Sonnets already, the Clowne bore it, the
Foole sent it, and the Lady hath it: sweet Clowne, sweeter
Foole, sweetest Lady. By the world, I would not care
a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a
paper, God giue him grace to grone.

He stands aside. The King entreth.

  Kin. Ay mee!
  Ber. Shot by heauen: proceede sweet Cupid, thou hast
thumpt him with thy Birdbolt vnder the left pap: in faith
secrets

   King. So sweete a kisse the golden Sunne giues not,
To those fresh morning drops vpon the Rose,
As thy eye beames, when their fresh rayse haue smot.
The night of dew that on my cheekes downe flowes.
Nor shines the siluer Moone one halfe so bright,
Through the transparent bosome of the deepe,
As doth thy face through teares of mine giue light:
Thou shin'st in euery teare that I doe weepe,
No drop, but as a Coach doth carry thee:
So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.
Do but behold the teares that swell in me,
And they thy glory through my griefe will show:
But doe not loue thy selfe, then thou wilt keepe
My teares for glasses, and still make me weepe.
O Queene of Queenes, how farre dost thou excell,
No thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortall tell.
How shall she know my griefes? Ile drop the paper.
Sweete leaues shade folly. Who is he comes heere?
Enter Longauile. The King steps aside.

What Longauill, and reading: listen eare

   Ber. Now in thy likenesse, one more foole appeare

   Long. Ay me, I am forsworne

   Ber. Why he comes in like a periure, wearing papers

   Long. In loue I hope, sweet fellowship in shame

   Ber. One drunkard loues another of the name

   Lon. Am I the first y haue been periur'd so?
  Ber. I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I know,
Thou makest the triumphery, the corner cap of societie,
The shape of Loues Tiburne, that hangs vp simplicitie

   Lon. I feare these stubborn lines lack power to moue.
O sweet Maria, Empresse of my Loue,
These numbers will I teare, and write in prose

   Ber. O Rimes are gards on wanton Cupids hose,
Disfigure not his Shop

   Lon. This same shall goe.

He reades the Sonnet.

Did not the heauenly Rhetoricke of thine eye,
'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Perswade my heart to this false periurie?
Vowes for thee broke deserue not punishment.
A Woman I forswore, but I will proue,
Thou being a Goddesse, I forswore not thee.
My Vow was earthly, thou a heauenly Loue.
Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
Vowes are but breath, and breath a vapour is.
Then thou faire Sun, which on my earth doest shine,
Exhalest this vapor-vow, in thee it is:
If broken then, it is no fault of mine:
If by me broke, What foole is not so wise,
To loose an oath, to win a Paradise?
  Ber. This is the liuer veine, which makes flesh a deity.
A greene Goose, a Goddesse, pure pure Idolatry.
God amend vs, God amend, we are much out o'th' way.
Enter Dumaine.

  Lon. By whom shall I send this (company?) Stay

   Bero. All hid, all hid, an old infant play,
Like a demie God, here sit I in the skie,
And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore-eye.
More Sacks to the myll. O heauens I haue my wish,
Dumaine transform'd, foure Woodcocks in a dish

   Dum. O most diuine Kate

   Bero. O most prophane coxcombe

   Dum. By heauen the wonder of a mortall eye

   Bero. By earth she is not, corporall, there you lye

   Dum. Her Amber haires for foule hath amber coted

   Ber. An Amber coloured Rauen was well noted

   Dum. As vpright as the Cedar

   Ber. Stoope I say, her shoulder is with-child

   Dum. As faire as day

   Ber. I as some daies, but then no sunne must shine

   Dum. O that I had my wish?
  Lon. And I had mine

   Kin. And mine too good Lord

   Ber. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word?
  Dum. I would forget her, but a Feuer she
Raignes in my bloud, and will remembred be

   Ber. A Feuer in your bloud, why then incision
Would let her out in Sawcers, sweet misprision

   Dum. Once more Ile read the Ode that I haue writ

   Ber. Once more Ile marke how Loue can varry Wit.

Dumane reades his Sonnet.

On a day, alack the day:
Loue, whose Month is euery May,
Spied a blossome passing faire,
Playing in the wanton ayre:
Through the Veluet, leaues the winde,
All vnseene, can passage finde.
That the Louer sicke to death,
Wish himselfe the heauens breath.
Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blowe,
Ayre, would I might triumph so.
But alacke my hand is sworne,
Nere to plucke thee from thy throne:
Vow alacke for youth vnmeete,
youth so apt to plucke a sweet.
Doe not call it sinne in me,
That I am forsworne for thee.
Thou for whom Ioue would sweare,
Iuno but an aethiop were,
And denie himselfe for Ioue.
Turning mortall for thy Loue.
This will I send, and something else more plaine.
That shall expresse my true-loues fasting paine.
O would the King, Berowne and Longauill,
Were Louers too, ill to example ill,
Would from my forehead wipe a periur'd note:
For none offend, where all alike doe dote

   Lon. Dumaine, thy Loue is farre from charitie,
That in Loues griefe desir'st societie:
You may looke pale, but I should blush I know,
To be ore-heard, and taken napping so

   Kin. Come sir, you blush: as his, your case is such,
You chide at him, offending twice as much.
You doe not loue Maria? Longauile,
Did neuer Sonnet for her sake compile;
Nor neuer lay his wreathed armes athwart
His louing bosome, to keepe downe his heart.
I haue beene closely shrowded in this bush,
And markt you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty Rimes, obseru'd your fashion:
Saw sighes reeke from you, noted well your passion.
Aye me, sayes one! O Ioue, the other cries!
On her haires were Gold, Christall the others eyes.
You would for Paradise breake Faith and troth,
And Ioue for your Loue would infringe an oath.
What will Berowne say when that he shall heare
Faith infringed, which such zeale did sweare.
How will he scorne? how will he spend his wit?
How will he triumph, leape, and laugh at it?
For all the wealth that euer I did see,
I would not haue him know so much by me

   Bero. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisie.
Ah good my Liedge, I pray thee pardon me.
Good heart, What grace hast thou thus to reproue
These wormes for louing, that art most in loue?
Your eyes doe make no couches in your teares.
There is no certaine Princesse that appeares.
You'll not be periur'd, 'tis a hatefull thing:
Tush, none but Minstrels like of Sonnetting.
But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not
All three of you, to be thus much ore'shot?
You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see:
But I a Beame doe finde in each of three.
O what a Scene of fool'ry haue I seene.
Of sighes, of grones, of sorrow, and of teene:
O me, with what strict patience haue I sat,
To see a King transformed to a Gnat?
To see great Hercules whipping a Gigge,
And profound Salomon tuning a Iygge?
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boyes,
And Critticke Tymon laugh at idle toyes.
Where lies thy griefe? O tell me good Dumaine;
And gentle Longauill, where lies thy paine?
And where my Liedges? all about the brest:
A Candle hoa!
  Kin. Too bitter is thy iest.
Are wee betrayed thus to thy ouer-view?
  Ber. Not you by me, but I betrayed to you.
I that am honest, I that hold it sinne
To breake the vow I am ingaged in.
I am betrayed by keeping company
With men, like men of inconstancie.
When shall you see me write a thing in rime?
Or grone for Ioane? or spend a minutes time,
In pruning mee, when shall you heare that I will praise a
hand, a foot, a face, an eye: a gate, a state, a brow, a brest,
a waste, a legge, a limme

   Kin. Soft, Whither away so fast?
A true man, or a theefe, that gallops so

   Ber. I post from Loue, good Louer let me go.
Enter Iaquenetta and Clowne.

  Iaqu. God blesse the King

   Kin. What Present hast thou there?
  Clo. Some certaine treason

   Kin. What makes treason heere?
  Clo. Nay it makes nothing sir

   Kin. If it marre nothing neither,
The treason and you goe in peace away together

   Iaqu. I beseech your Grace let this Letter be read,
Our person mis-doubts it: it was treason he said

   Kin. Berowne, read it ouer.

He reades the Letter.

  Kin. Where hadst thou it?
  Iaqu. Of Costard

   King. Where hadst thou it?
  Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio

   Kin. How now, what is in you? why dost thou tear it?
  Ber. A toy my Liedge, a toy: your grace needes not
feare it

   Long. It did moue him to passion, and therefore let's
heare it

   Dum. It is Berowns writing, and heere is his name

   Ber. Ah you whoreson loggerhead, you were borne
to doe me shame.
Guilty my Lord, guilty: I confesse, I confesse

   Kin. What?
  Ber. That you three fooles, lackt mee foole, to make
vp the messe.
He, he, and you: and you my Liedge, and I,
Are picke-purses in Loue, and we deserue to die.
O dismisse this audience, and I shall tell you more

   Dum. Now the number is euen

   Berow. True true, we are fowre: will these Turtles
be gone?
  Kin. Hence sirs, away

   Clo. Walk aside the true folke, & let the traytors stay

   Ber. Sweet Lords, sweet Louers, O let vs imbrace,
As true we are as flesh and bloud can be,
The Sea will ebbe and flow, heauen will shew his face:
Young bloud doth not obey an old decree.
We cannot crosse the cause why we are borne:
Therefore of all hands must we be forsworne

   King. What, did these rent lines shew some loue of
thine?
  Ber. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heauenly Rosaline,
That (like a rude and sauage man of Inde.)
At the first opening of the gorgeous East,
Bowes not his vassall head, and strooken blinde,
Kisses the base ground with obedient breast?
What peremptory Eagle-sighted eye
Dares looke vpon the heauen of her brow,
That is not blinded by her maiestie?
  Kin. What zeale, what furie, hath inspir'd thee now?
My Loue (her Mistres) is a gracious Moone,
Shee (an attending Starre) scarce seene a light

   Ber. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne.
O, but for my Loue, day would turne to night,
Of all complexions the cul'd soueraignty,
Doe meet as at a faire in her faire cheeke,
Where seuerall Worthies make one dignity,
Where nothing wants, that want it selfe doth seeke.
Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,
Fie painted Rethoricke, O she needs it not,
To things of sale, a sellers praise belongs:
She passes prayse, then prayse too short doth blot.
A withered Hermite, fiuescore winters worne,
Might shake off fiftie, looking in her eye:
Beauty doth varnish Age, as if new borne,
And giues the Crutch the Cradles infancie.
O 'tis the Sunne that maketh all things shine

   King. By heauen, thy Loue is blacke as Ebonie

   Berow. Is Ebonie like her? O word diuine?
A wife of such wood were felicite.
O who can giue an oth? Where is a booke?
That I may sweare Beauty doth beauty lacke,
If that she learne not of her eye to looke:
No face is faire that is not full so blacke

   Kin. O paradoxe, Blacke is the badge of hell,
The hue of dungeons, and the Schoole of night:
And beauties crest becomes the heauens well

   Ber. Diuels soonest tempt resembling spirits of light.
O if in blacke my Ladies browes be deckt,
It mournes, that painting vsurping haire
Should rauish doters with a false aspect:
And therfore is she borne to make blacke, faire.
Her fauour turnes the fashion of the dayes,
For natiue bloud is counted painting now:
And therefore red that would auoyd dispraise,
Paints it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow

   Dum. To look like her are Chimny-sweepers blacke

   Lon. And since her time, are Colliers counted bright

   King. And Aethiops of their sweet complexion crake

   Dum. Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light

   Ber. Your mistresses dare neuer come in raine,
For feare their colours should be washt away

   Kin. 'Twere good yours did: for sir to tell you plaine,
Ile finde a fairer face not washt to day

   Ber. Ile proue her faire, or talke till dooms-day here

   Kin. No Diuell will fright thee then so much as shee

   Duma. I neuer knew man hold vile stuffe so deere

   Lon. Looke, heer's thy loue, my foot and her face see

   Ber. O if the streets were paued with thine eyes,
Her feet were much too dainty for such tread

   Duma. O vile, then as she goes what vpward lyes?
The street should see as she walk'd ouer head

   Kin. But what of this, are we not all in loue?
  Ber. O nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworne

   Kin. Then leaue this chat, & good Berown now proue
Our louing lawfull, and our fayth not torne

   Dum. I marie there, some flattery for this euill

   Long. O some authority how to proceed,
Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the diuell

   Dum. Some salue for periurie,
  Ber. O 'tis more then neede.
Haue at you then affections men at armes,
Consider what you first did sweare vnto:
To fast, to study, and to see no woman:
Flat treason against the Kingly state of youth.
Say, Can you fast? your stomacks are too young:
And abstinence ingenders maladies.
And where that you haue vow'd to studie (Lords)
In that each of you haue forsworne his Booke.
Can you still dreame and pore, and thereon looke.
For when would you my Lord, or you, or you,
Haue found the ground of studies excellence,
Without the beauty of a womans face;
From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue,
They are the Ground, the Bookes, the Achadems,
From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.
Why, vniuersall plodding poysons vp
The nimble spirits in the arteries,
As motion and long during action tyres
The sinnowy vigour of the trauailer.
Now for not looking on a womans face,
You haue in that forsworne the vse of eyes:
And studie too, the causer of your vow.
For where is any Author in the world,
Teaches such beauty as a womans eye:
Learning is but an adiunct to our selfe,
And where we are, our Learning likewise is.
Then when our selues we see in Ladies eyes,
With our selues.
Doe we not likewise see our learning there?
O we haue made a Vow to studie, Lords,
And in that vow we haue forsworne our Bookes:
For when would you (my Leege) or you, or you?
In leaden contemplation haue found out
Such fiery Numbers as the prompting eyes,
Of beauties tutors haue inrich'd you with:
Other slow Arts intirely keepe the braine:
And therefore finding barraine practizers,
Scarce shew a haruest of their heauy toyle.
But Loue first learned in a Ladies eyes,
Liues not alone emured in the braine:
But with the motion of all elements,
Courses as swift as thought in euery power,
And giues to euery power a double power,
Aboue their functions and their offices.
It addes a precious seeing to the eye:
A Louers eyes will gaze an Eagle blinde.
A Louers eare will heare the lowest sound.
When the suspicious head of theft is stopt.
Loues feeling is more soft and sensible,
Then are the tender hornes of Cockle Snayles.
Loues tongue proues dainty, Bachus grosse in taste,
For Valour, is not Loue a Hercules?
Still climing trees in the Hesperides.
Subtill as Sphinx, as sweet and musicall,
As bright Apollo's Lute, strung with his haire.
And when Loue speakes, the voyce of all the Gods,
Make heauen drowsie with the harmonie.
Neuer durst Poet touch a pen to write,
Vntill his Inke were tempred with Loues sighes:
O then his lines would rauish sauage eares,
And plant in Tyrants milde humilitie.
From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue.
They sparcle still the right promethean fire,
They are the Bookes, the Arts, the Achademes,
That shew, containe, and nourish all the world.
Else none at all in ought proues excellent.
Then fooles you were these women to forsweare:
Or keeping what is sworne, you will proue fooles,
For Wisedomes sake, a word that all men loue:
Or for Loues sake, a word that loues all men.
Or for Mens sake, the author of these Women:
Or Womens sake, by whom we men are Men.
Let's once loose our oathes to finde our selues,
Or else we loose our selues, to keepe our oathes:
It is religion to be thus forsworne.
For Charity it selfe fulfills the Law:
And who can seuer loue from Charity

   Kin. Saint Cupid then, and Souldiers to the field

   Ber. Aduance your standards, & vpon them Lords,
Pell, mell, downe with them: but be first aduis'd,
In conflict that you get the Sunne of them

   Long. Now to plaine dealing, Lay these glozes by,
Shall we resolue to woe these girles of France?
  Kin. And winne them too, therefore let vs deuise,
Some entertainment for them in their Tents

   Ber. First from the Park let vs conduct them thither,
Then homeward euery man attach the hand
Of his faire Mistresse, in the afternoone
We will with some strange pastime solace them:
Such as the shortnesse of the time can shape,
For Reuels, Dances, Maskes, and merry houres,
Fore-runne faire Loue, strewing her way with flowres

   Kin. Away, away, no time shall be omitted,
That will be time, and may by vs be fitted

   Ber. Alone, alone sowed Cockell, reap'd no Corne,
And Iustice alwaies whirles in equall measure:
Light Wenches may proue plagues to men forsworne,
If so, our Copper buyes no better treasure.

Exeunt.


Actus Quartus.

Enter the Pedant, Curate and Dull.

  Pedant. Satis quid sufficit

   Curat. I praise God for you sir, your reasons at dinner
haue beene sharpe & sententious: pleasant without scurrillity,
witty without affection, audacious without impudency,
learned without opinion, and strange without
heresie: I did conuerse this quondam day with a companion
of the Kings, who is intituled, nominated, or called,
Don Adriano de Armatho

   Ped. Noui hominum tanquam te, His humour is lofty,
his discourse peremptorie: his tongue filed, his eye
ambitious, his gate maiesticall, and his generall behauiour
vaine, ridiculous, and thrasonicall. He is too picked,
too spruce, too affected, too odde, as it were, too peregrinat,
as I may call it

   Curat. A most singular and choise Epithat,

Draw out his Table-booke.

  Peda. He draweth out the thred of his verbositie, finer
then the staple of his argument. I abhor such phanaticall
phantasims, such insociable and poynt deuise
companions, such rackers of ortagriphie, as to speake
dout fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he shold
pronounce debt; debt, not det: he clepeth a Calf, Caufe:
halfe, haufe: neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh abreuiated
ne: this is abhominable, which he would call abhominable
it insinuateth me of infamie: ne inteligis domine, to
make franticke, lunaticke?
  Cura. Laus deo, bene intelligo

   Peda. Bome boon for boon prescian, a little scratcht, 'twil
serue.
Enter Bragart, Boy.

  Curat. Vides ne quis venit?
  Peda. Video, & gaudio

   Brag. Chirra

   Peda. Quari Chirra, not Sirra?
  Brag. Men of peace well incountred

   Ped. Most millitarie sir salutation

   Boy. They haue beene at a great feast of Languages,
and stolne the scraps

   Clow. O they haue liu'd long on the almes-basket of
words. I maruell thy M[aster]. hath not eaten thee for a word,
for thou art not so long by the head as
honorificabilitu%dinitatibus:
Thou art easier swallowed then a flapdragon

   Page. Peace, the peale begins

   Brag. Mounsier, are you not lettred?
  Page. Yes, yes, he teaches boyes the Horne-booke:
What is Ab speld backward with the horn on his head?
  Peda. Ba, puericia with a horne added

   Pag. Ba most seely Sheepe, with a horne: you heare
his learning

   Peda. Quis quis, thou Consonant?
  Pag. The last of the fiue Vowels if You repeat them,
or the fift if I

   Peda. I will repeat them: a e I

   Pag. The Sheepe, the other two concludes it o u

   Brag. Now by the salt waue of the mediteranium, a
sweet tutch, a quicke venewe of wit, snip snap, quick &
home, it reioyceth my intellect, true wit

   Page. Offered by a childe to an olde man: which is
wit-old

   Peda. What is the figure? What is the figure?
  Page. Hornes

   Peda. Thou disputes like an Infant: goe whip thy
Gigge

   Pag. Lend me your Horne to make one, and I will
whip about your Infamie vnum cita a gigge of a Cuckolds
horne

   Clow. And I had but one penny in the world, thou
shouldst haue it to buy Ginger bread: Hold, there is the
very Remuneration I had of thy Maister, thou halfpenny
purse of wit, thou Pidgeon-egge of discretion. O & the
heauens were so pleased, that thou wert but my Bastard;
What a ioyfull father wouldst thou make mee? Goe to,
thou hast it ad dungil, at the fingers ends, as they say

   Peda. Oh I smell false Latine, dunghel for vnguem

   Brag. Arts-man preambulat, we will bee singled from
the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charghouse
on the top of the Mountaine?
  Peda. Or Mons the hill

   Brag. At your sweet pleasure, for the Mountaine

   Peda. I doe sans question

   Bra. Sir, it is the Kings most sweet pleasure and affection,
to congratulate the Princesse at her Pauilion, in
the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call
the after-noone

   Ped. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable,
congruent, and measurable for the after-noone: the
word is well culd, chose, sweet, and apt I doe assure you
sir, I doe assure

   Brag. Sir, the King is a noble Gentleman, and my familiar,
I doe assure ye very good friend: for what is inward
betweene vs, let it passe. I doe beseech thee remember
thy curtesie. I beseech thee apparell thy head:
and among other importunate & most serious designes,
and of great import indeed too: but let that passe, for I
must tell thee it will please his Grace (by the world)
sometime to leane vpon my poore shoulder, and with
his royall finger thus dallie with my excrement, with my
mustachio: but sweet heart let that passe. By the world
I recount no fable, some certaine speciall honours it
pleaseth his greatnesse to impart to Armado a Souldier,
a man of trauell, that hath seene the world: but let that
passe; the very all of all is: but sweet heart I do implore
secrecie, that the King would haue mee present the
Princesse (sweet chucke) with some delightfull ostentation,
or show, or pageant, or anticke, or fire-worke:
Now, vnderstanding that the Curate and your sweet self
are good at such eruptions, and sodaine breaking out of
myrth (as it were) I haue acquainted you withall, to
the end to craue your assistance

   Peda. Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies.
Sir Holofernes, as concerning some entertainment
of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to bee
rendred by our assistants the Kings command: and this
most gallant, illustrate and learned Gentleman, before
the Princesse: I say none so fit as to present the Nine
Worthies

   Curat. Where will you finde men worthy enough to
present them?
  Peda. Iosua, your selfe: my selfe, and this gallant gentleman
Iudas Machabeus; this Swaine (because of his
great limme or ioynt) shall passe Pompey the great, the
Page Hercules

   Brag. Pardon sir, error: He is not quantitie enough
for that Worthies thumb, hee is not so big as the end of
his Club

   Peda. Shall I haue audience: he shall present Hercules
in minoritie: his enter and exit shall bee strangling a
Snake; and I will haue an Apologie for that purpose

   Pag. An excellent deuice: so if any of the audience
hisse, you may cry, Well done Hercules, now thou crushest
the Snake; that is the way to make an offence gracious,
though few haue the grace to doe it

   Brag. For the rest of the Worthies?
  Peda. I will play three my selfe

   Pag. Thrice worthy Gentleman

   Brag. Shall I tell you a thing?
  Peda. We attend

   Brag. We will haue, if this fadge not, an Antique. I
beseech you follow

   Ped. Via good-man Dull, thou hast spoken no word
all this while

   Dull. Nor vnderstood none neither sir

   Ped. Alone, we will employ thee

   Dull. Ile make one in a dance, or so: or I will play
on the taber to the Worthies, & let them dance the hey

   Ped. Most Dull, honest Dull, to our sport away.
Enter.

Enter Ladies.

  Qu. Sweet hearts we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in.
A Lady wal'd about with Diamonds: Look you, what I
haue from the louing King

   Rosa. Madam, came nothing else along with that?
  Qu. Nothing but this: yes as much loue in Rime,
As would be cram'd vp in a sheet of paper
Writ on both sides the leafe, margent and all,
That he was faine to seale on Cupids name

   Rosa. That was the way to make his god-head wax:
For he hath beene fiue thousand yeeres a Boy

   Kath. I, and a shrewd vnhappy gallowes too

   Ros. You'll nere be friends with him, a kild your sister

   Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heauy, and
so she died: had she beene Light like you, of such a merrie
nimble stirring spirit, she might a bin a Grandam ere
she died. And so may you: For a light heart liues long

   Ros. What's your darke meaning mouse, of this light
word?
  Kat. A light condition in a beauty darke

   Ros. We need more light to finde your meaning out

   Kat. You'll marre the light by taking it in snuffe:
Therefore Ile darkely end the argument

   Ros. Look what you doe, you doe it stil i'th darke

   Kat. So do not you, for you are a light Wench

   Ros. Indeed I waigh not you, and therefore light

   Ka. You waigh me not, O that's you care not for me

   Ros. Great reason: for past care, is still past cure

   Qu. Well bandied both, a set of Wit well played.
But Rosaline, you haue a Fauour too?
Who sent it? and what is it?
  Ros. I would you knew.
And if my face were but as faire as yours,
My Fauour were as great, be witnesse this.
Nay, I haue Verses too, I thanke Berowne,
The numbers true, and were the numbring too.
I were the fairest goddesse on the ground.
I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs.
O he hath drawne my picture in his letter

   Qu. Any thing like?
  Ros. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise

   Qu. Beauteous as Incke: a good conclusion

   Kat. Faire as a text B. in a Coppie booke

   Ros. Ware pensals. How? Let me not die your debtor,
My red Dominicall, my golden letter.
O that your face were full of Oes

   Qu. A Pox of that iest, and I beshrew all Shrowes:
But Katherine, what was sent to you
From faire Dumaine?
  Kat. Madame, this Gloue

   Qu. Did he not send you twaine?
  Kat. Yes Madame: and moreouer,
Some thousand Verses of a faithfull Louer.
A huge translation of hypocrisie,
Vildly compiled, profound simplicitie

   Mar. This, and these Pearls, to me sent Longauile.
The Letter is too long by halfe a mile

   Qu. I thinke no lesse: Dost thou wish in heart
The Chaine were longer, and the Letter short

   Mar. I, or I would these hands might neuer part

   Quee. We are wise girles to mocke our Louers so

   Ros. They are worse fooles to purchase mocking so.
That same Berowne ile torture ere I goe.
O that I knew he were but in by th' weeke,
How I would make him fawne, and begge, and seeke,
And wait the season, and obserue the times,
And spend his prodigall wits in booteles rimes,
And shape his seruice wholly to my deuice,
And make him proud to make me proud that iests.
So pertaunt like would I o'resway his state,
That he shold be my foole, and I his fate

   Qu. None are so surely caught, when they are catcht,
As Wit turn'd foole, follie in Wisedome hatch'd:
Hath wisedoms warrant, and the helpe of Schoole,
And Wits owne grace to grace a learned Foole?
  Ros. The bloud of youth burns not with such excesse,
As grauities reuolt to wantons be

   Mar. Follie in Fooles beares not so strong a note,
As fool'ry in the Wise, when Wit doth dote:
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
To proue by Wit, worth in simplicitie.
Enter Boyet.

  Qu. Heere comes Boyet, and mirth in his face

   Boy. O I am stab'd with laughter, Wher's her Grace?
  Qu. Thy newes Boyet?
  Boy. Prepare Madame, prepare.
Arme Wenches arme, incounters mounted are,
Against your Peace, Loue doth approach, disguis'd:
Armed in arguments, you'll be surpriz'd.
Muster your Wits, stand in your owne defence,
Or hide your heads like Cowards, and flie hence

   Qu. Saint Dennis to S[aint]. Cupid: What are they,
That charge their breath against vs? Say scout say

   Boy. Vnder the coole shade of a Siccamore,
I thought to close mine eyes some halfe an houre:
When lo to interrupt my purpos'd rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addrest,
The King and his companions: warely
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And ouer-heard, what you shall ouer-heare:
That by and by disguis'd they will be heere.
Their Herald is a pretty knauish Page:
That well by heart hath con'd his embassage,
Action and accent did they teach him there.
Thus must thou speake, and thus thy body beare.
And euer and anon they made a doubt,
Presence maiesticall would put him out:
For quoth the King, an Angell shalt thou see:
Yet feare not thou, but speake audaciously.
The Boy reply'd, An Angell is not euill:
I should haue fear'd her, had she beene a deuill.
With that all laugh'd, and clap'd him on the shoulder,
Making the bold wagg by their praises bolder.
One rub'd his elboe thus, and fleer'd, and swore,
A better speech was neuer spoke before.
Another with his finger and his thumb,
Cry'd via, we will doo't, come what will come.
The third he caper'd and cried, All goes well.
The fourth turn'd on the toe, and downe he fell:
With that they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zelous laughter so profound,
That in this spleene ridiculous appeares,
To checke their folly passions solemne teares

   Que. But what, but what, come they to visit vs?
  Boy. They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus,
Like Muscouites; or Russians, as I gesse.
Their purpose is to parlee, to court, and dance,
And euery one his Loue-feat will aduance,
Vnto his seuerall mistresse: which they'll know
By fauours seuerall, which they did bestow

   Queen. And will they so? the Gallants shall be taskt:
For Ladies; we will euery one be maskt,
And not a man of them shall haue the grace
Despight of sute, to see a Ladies face.
Hold Rosaline, this Fauour thou shalt weare,
And then the King will court thee for his Deare:
Hold, take thou this my sweet, and giue me thine,
So shall Berowne take me for Rosaline.
And change your Fauours too, so shall your Loues
Woo contrary, deceiu'd by these remoues

   Rosa. Come on then, weare the fauours most in sight

   Kath. But in this changing, What is your intent?
  Queen. The effect of my intent is to crosse theirs:
They doe it but in mocking merriment,
And mocke for mocke is onely my intent.
Their seuerall counsels they vnbosome shall,
To Loues mistooke, and so be mockt withall.
Vpon the next occasion that we meete,
With Visages displayd to talke and greete

   Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire vs too't?
  Quee. No, to the death we will not moue a foot,
Nor to their pen'd speech render we no grace:
But while 'tis spoke, each turne away his face

   Boy. Why that contempt will kill the keepers heart,
And quite diuorce his memory from his part

   Quee. Therefore I doe it, and I make no doubt,
The rest will ere come in, if he be out.
Theres no such sport, as sport by sport orethrowne:
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our owne.
So shall we stay mocking entended game,
And they well mockt, depart away with shame.

Sound.

  Boy. The Trompet sounds, be maskt, the maskers
come.
Enter Black moores with musicke, the Boy with a speech, and the
rest of
the Lords disguised.

  Page. All haile, the richest Beauties on the earth

   Ber. Beauties no richer then rich Taffata

   Pag. A holy parcell of the fairest dames that euer turn'd
their backes to mortall viewes.

The Ladies turne their backes to him.

  Ber. Their eyes villaine, their eyes

   Pag. That euer turn'd their eyes to mortall viewes.
Out
  Boy. True, out indeed

   Pag. Out of your fauours heauenly spirits vouchsafe
Not to beholde

   Ber. Once to behold, rogue

   Pag. Once to behold with your Sunne beamed eyes,
With your Sunne beamed eyes

   Boy. They will not answer to that Epythite,
you were best call it Daughter beamed eyes

   Pag. They do not marke me, and that brings me out

   Bero. Is this your perfectnesse? be gon you rogue

   Rosa. What would these strangers?
Know their mindes Boyet.
If they doe speake our language, 'tis our will
That some plaine man recount their purposes.
Know what they would?
  Boyet. What would you with the Princes?
  Ber. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation

   Ros. What would they, say they?
  Boy. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation

   Rosa. Why that they haue, and bid them so be gon

   Boy. She saies you haue it, and you may be gon

   Kin. Say to her we haue measur'd many miles,
To tread a Measure with you on the grasse

   Boy. They say that they haue measur'd many a mile,
To tread a Measure with you on this grasse

   Rosa. It is not so. Aske them how many inches
Is in one mile? If they haue measur'd manie,
The measure then of one is easlie told

   Boy. If to come hither, you haue measur'd miles,
And many miles: the Princesse bids you tell,
How many inches doth fill vp one mile?
  Ber. Tell her we measure them by weary steps

   Boy. She heares her selfe

   Rosa. How manie wearie steps,
Of many wearie miles you haue ore-gone,
Are numbred in the trauell of one mile?
  Bero. We number nothing that we spend for you,
Our dutie is so rich, so infinite,
That we may doe it still without accompt.
Vouchsafe to shew the sunshine of your face,
That we (like sauages) may worship it

   Rosa. My face is but a Moone and clouded too

   Kin. Blessed are clouds, to doe as such clouds do.
Vouchsafe bright Moone, and these thy stars to shine,
(Those clouds remooued) vpon our waterie eyne

   Rosa. O vaine peticioner, beg a greater matter,
Thou now requests but Mooneshine in the water

   Kin. Then in our measure, vouchsafe but one change.
Thou bidst me begge, this begging is not strange

   Rosa. Play musicke then: nay you must doe it soone.
Not yet no dance: thus change I like the Moone

   Kin. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?
  Rosa. You tooke the Moone at full, but now shee's
changed?
  Kin. Yet still she is the Moone, and I the Man

   Rosa. The musick playes, vouchsafe some motion to
it: Our eares vouchsafe it

   Kin. But your legges should doe it

   Ros. Since you are strangers, & come here by chance,
Wee'll not be nice, take hands, we will not dance

   Kin. Why take you hands then?
  Rosa. Onelie to part friends.
Curtsie sweet hearts, and so the Measure ends

   Kin. More measure of this measure, be not nice

   Rosa. We can afford no more at such a price

   Kin. Prise your selues: What buyes your companie?
  Rosa. Your absence onelie

   Kin. That can neuer be

   Rosa. Then cannot we be bought: and so adue,
Twice to your Visore, and halfe once to you

   Kin. If you denie to dance, let's hold more chat

   Ros. In priuate then

   Kin. I am best pleas'd with that

   Be. White handed Mistris, one sweet word with thee

   Qu. Hony, and Milke, and Suger: there is three

   Ber. Nay then two treyes, an if you grow so nice
Methegline, Wort, and Malmsey; well runne dice:
There's halfe a dozen sweets

   Qu. Seuenth sweet adue, since you can cogg,
Ile play no more with you

   Ber. One word in secret

   Qu. Let it not be sweet

   Ber. Thou greeu'st my gall

   Qu. Gall, bitter

   Ber. Therefore meete

   Du. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
  Mar. Name it

   Dum. Faire Ladie:
  Mar. Say you so? Faire Lord:
Take you that for your faire Lady

   Du. Please it you,
As much in priuate, and Ile bid adieu

   Mar. What, was your vizard made without a tong?
  Long. I know the reason Ladie why you aske

   Mar. O for your reason, quickly sir, I long

   Long. You haue a double tongue within your mask,
And would affoord my speechlesse vizard halfe

   Mar. Veale quoth the Dutch-man: is not Veale a
Calfe?
  Long. A Calfe faire Ladie?
  Mar. No, a faire Lord Calfe

   Long. Let's part the word

   Mar. No, Ile not be your halfe:
Take all and weane it, it may proue an Oxe

   Long. Looke how you but your selfe in these sharpe
mockes.
Will you giue hornes chast Ladie? Do not so

   Mar. Then die a Calfe before your horns do grow

   Lon. One word in priuate with you ere I die

   Mar. Bleat softly then, the Butcher heares you cry

   Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
As is the Razors edge, inuisible:
Cutting a smaller haire then may be seene,
Aboue the sense of sence so sensible:
Seemeth their conference, their conceits haue wings,
Fleeter then arrows, bullets wind, thoght, swifter things
  Rosa. Not one word more my maides, breake off,
breake off

   Ber. By heauen, all drie beaten with pure scoffe

   King. Farewell madde Wenches, you haue simple
wits.

Exeunt.

  Qu. Twentie adieus my frozen Muscouits.
Are these the breed of wits so wondred at?
  Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweete breathes
puft out

   Rosa. Wel-liking wits they haue, grosse, grosse, fat, fat

   Qu. O pouertie in wit, Kingly poore flout.
Will they not (thinke you) hang themselues to night?
Or euer but in vizards shew their faces:
This pert Berowne was out of count'nance quite

   Rosa. They were all in lamentable cases.
The King was weeping ripe for a good word

   Qu. Berowne did sweare himselfe out of all suite

   Mar. Dumaine was at my seruice, and his sword:
No point (quoth I:) my seruant straight was mute

   Ka. Lord Longauill said I came ore his hart:
And trow you what he call'd me?
  Qu. Qualme perhaps

   Kat. Yes in good faith

   Qu. Go sicknesse as thou art

   Ros. Well, better wits haue worne plain statute caps,
But will you heare; the King is my loue sworne

   Qu. And quicke Berowne hath plighted faith to me

   Kat. And Longauill was for my seruice borne

   Mar. Dumaine is mine as sure as barke on tree

   Boyet. Madam, and prettie mistresses giue eare,
Immediately they will againe be heere
In their owne shapes: for it can neuer be,
They will digest this harsh indignitie

   Qu. Will they returne?
  Boy. They will they will, God knowes,
And leape for ioy, though they are lame with blowes:
Therefore change Fauours, and when they repaire,
Blow like sweet Roses, in this summer aire

   Qu. How blow? how blow? Speake to bee vnderstood

   Boy. Faire Ladies maskt, are Roses in their bud:
Dismaskt, their damaske sweet commixture showne,
Are Angels vailing clouds, or Roses blowne

   Qu. Auant perplexitie: What shall we do,
If they returne in their owne shapes to wo?
  Rosa. Good Madam, if by me you'l be aduis'd.
Let's mocke them still as well knowne as disguis'd:
Let vs complaine to them what fooles were heare,
Disguis'd like Muscouites in shapelesse geare:
And wonder what they were, and to what end
Their shallow showes, and Prologue vildely pen'd:
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
Should be presented at our Tent to vs

   Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand

   Quee. Whip to our Tents, as Roes runnes ore Land.

Exeunt.

Enter the King and the rest.

  King. Faire sir, God saue you. Wher's the Princesse?
  Boy. Gone to her Tent.
Please it your Maiestie command me any seruice to her?
  King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word

   Boy. I will, and so will she, I know my Lord.
Enter.

  Ber. This fellow pickes vp wit as Pigeons pease,
And vtters it againe, when Ioue doth please.
He is Wits Pedler, and retailes his Wares,
At Wakes, and Wassels, Meetings, Markets, Faires.
And we that sell by grosse, the Lord doth know,
Haue not the grace to grace it with such show.
This Gallant pins the Wenches on his sleeue.
Had he bin Adam, he had tempted Eue.
He can carue too, and lispe: Why this is he,
That kist away his hand in courtesie.
This is the Ape of Forme, Monsieur the nice,
That when he plaies at Tables, chides the Dice
In honorable tearmes: Nay he can sing
A meane most meanly, and in Vshering
Mend him who can: the Ladies call him sweete.
The staires as he treads on them kisse his feete.
This is the flower that smiles on euerie one,
To shew his teeth as white as Whales bone.
And consciences that wil not die in debt,
Pay him the dutie of honie-tongued Boyet

   King. A blister on his sweet tongue with my hart,
That put Armathoes Page out of his part.
Enter the Ladies.

  Ber. See where it comes. Behauiour what wer't thou,
Till this madman shew'd thee? And what art thou now?
  King. All haile sweet Madame, and faire time of day

   Qu. Faire in all Haile is foule, as I conceiue

   King. Construe my speeches better, if you may

   Qu. Then wish me better, I wil giue you leaue

   King. We came to visit you, and purpose now
To leade you to our Court, vouchsafe it then

   Qu. This field shal hold me, and so hold your vow:
Nor God, nor I, delights in periur'd men

   King. Rebuke me not for that which you prouoke:
The vertue of your eie must breake my oth

   Q. You nickname vertue: vice you should haue spoke:
For vertues office neuer breakes men troth.
Now by my maiden honor, yet as pure
As the vnsallied Lilly, I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yeeld to be your houses guest:
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heauenly oaths, vow'd with integritie

   Kin. O you haue liu'd in desolation heere,
Vnseene, vnuisited, much to our shame

   Qu. Not so my Lord, it is not so I sweare,
We haue had pastimes heere, and pleasant game,
A messe of Russians left vs but of late

   Kin. How Madam? Russians?
  Qu. I in truth, my Lord.
Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state

   Rosa. Madam speake true. It is not so my Lord:
My Ladie (to the manner of the daies)
In curtesie giues vndeseruing praise.
We foure indeed confronted were with foure
In Russia habit: Heere they stayed an houre,
And talk'd apace: and in that houre (my Lord)
They did not blesse vs with one happy word.
I dare not call them fooles; but this I thinke,
When they are thirstie, fooles would faine haue drinke

   Ber. This iest is drie to me. Gentle sweete,
Your wits makes wise things foolish when we greete
With eies best seeing, heauens fierie eie:
By light we loose light; your capacitie
Is of that nature, that to your huge stoore,
Wise things seeme foolish, and rich things but poore

   Ros. This proues you wise and rich: for in my eie
  Ber. I am a foole, and full of pouertie

   Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue

   Ber. O, I am yours, and all that I possesse

   Ros. All the foole mine

   Ber. I cannot giue you lesse

   Ros. Which of the Vizards what it that you wore?
  Ber. Where? when? What Vizard?
Why demand you this?
  Ros. There, then, that vizard, that superfluous case,
That hid the worse, and shew'd the better face

   Kin. We are discried,
They'l mocke vs now downeright

   Du. Let vs confesse, and turne it to a iest

   Que. Amaz'd my Lord? Why lookes your Highnes
sadde?
  Rosa. Helpe hold his browes, hee'l sound: why looke
you pale?
Sea-sicke I thinke comming from Muscouie

   Ber. Thus poure the stars down plagues for periury.
Can any face of brasse hold longer out?
Heere stand I, Ladie dart thy skill at me,
Bruise me with scorne, confound me with a flout.
Thrust thy sharpe wit quite through my ignorance.
Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit:
And I will wish thee neuer more to dance,
Nor neuer more in Russian habit waite.
O! neuer will I trust to speeches pen'd,
Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boies tongue.
Nor neuer come in vizard to my friend,
Nor woo in rime like a blind-harpers songue,
Taffata phrases, silken tearmes precise,
Three-pil'd Hyperboles, spruce affection;
Figures pedanticall, these summer flies,
Haue blowne me full of maggot ostentation.
I do forsweare them, and I heere protest,
By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knows)
Henceforth my woing minde shall be exprest
In russet yeas, and honest kersie noes.
And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law,
My loue to thee is sound, sans cracke or flaw,
  Rosa. Sans, sans, I pray you

   Ber. Yet I haue a tricke
Of the old rage: beare with me, I am sicke.
Ile leaue it by degrees: soft, let vs see,
Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on those three,
They are infected, in their hearts it lies:
They haue the plague, and caught it of your eyes:
These Lords are visited, you are not free:
For the Lords tokens on you do I see

   Qu. No, they are free that gaue these tokens to vs

   Ber. Our states are forfeit, seeke not to vndo vs

   Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue

   Ber. Peace, for I will not haue to do with you

   Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend

   Ber. Speake for your selues, my wit is at an end

   King. Teach vs sweete Madame, for our rude transgression,
some faire excuse

   Qu. The fairest is confession.
Were you not heere but euen now, disguis'd?
  Kin. Madam, I was

   Qu. And were you well aduis'd?
  Kin. I was faire Madam

   Qu. When you then were heere,
What did you whisper in your Ladies eare?
  King. That more then all the world I did respect her
  Qu. When shee shall challenge this, you will reiect
her

   King. Vpon mine Honor no

   Qu. Peace, peace, forbeare:
Your oath once broke, you force not to forsweare

   King. Despise me when I breake this oath of mine

   Qu. I will, and therefore keepe it. Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your eare?
  Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me deare
As precious eye-sight, and did value me
Aboue this World: adding thereto moreouer,
That he would Wed me, or else die my Louer

   Qu. God giue thee ioy of him: the Noble Lord
Most honorably doth vphold his word

   King. What meane you Madame?
By my life, my troth
I neuer swore this Ladie such an oth

   Ros. By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine,
You gaue me this: But take it sir againe

   King. My faith and this, the Princesse I did giue,
I knew her by this Iewell on her sleeue

   Qu. Pardon me sir, this Iewell did she weare.
And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare.
What? Will you haue me, or your Pearle againe?
  Ber. Neither of either, I remit both twaine.
I see the tricke on't: Heere was a consent,
Knowing aforehand of our merriment,
To dash it like a Christmas Comedie.
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight Zanie,
Some mumble-newes, some trencher-knight, som Dick
That smiles his cheeke in yeares, and knowes the trick
To make my Lady laugh, when she's dispos'd;
Told our intents before: which once disclos'd,
The Ladies did change Fauours; and then we
Following the signes, woo'd but the signe of she.
Now to our periurie, to adde more terror,
We are againe forsworne in will and error.
Much vpon this tis: and might not you
Forestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue?
Do not you know my Ladies foot by'th squier?
And laugh vpon the apple of her eie?
And stand betweene her backe sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie?
You put our Page out: go, you are alowd.
Die when you will, a smocke shall be your shrowd.
You leere vpon me, do you? There's an eie
Wounds like a Leaden sword

   Boy. Full merrily hath this braue manager, this carreere
bene run

   Ber. Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I haue don.
Enter Clowne.

Welcome pure wit, thou part'st a faire fray

   Clo. O Lord sir, they would kno,
Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no

   Ber. What, are there but three?
  Clo. No sir, but it is vara fine,
For euerie one pursents three

   Ber. And three times thrice is nine

   Clo. Not so sir, vnder correction sir, I hope it is not so.
You cannot beg vs sir, I can assure you sir, we know what
we know: I hope sir three times thrice sir

   Ber. Is not nine

   Clo. Vnder correction sir, wee know where-vntill it
doth amount

   Ber. By Ioue, I alwaies tooke three threes for nine

   Clow. O Lord sir, it were pittie you should get your
liuing by reckning sir

   Ber. How much is it?
  Clo. O Lord sir, the parties themselues, the actors sir
will shew where-vntill it doth amount: for mine owne
part, I am (as they say, but to perfect one man in one
poore man) Pompion the great sir

   Ber. Art thou one of the Worthies?
  Clo. It pleased them to thinke me worthie of Pompey
the great: for mine owne part, I know not the degree of
the Worthie, but I am to stand for him

   Ber. Go, bid them prepare.
Enter.

  Clo. We will turne it finely off sir, we wil take some
care

   King. Berowne, they will shame vs:
Let them not approach

   Ber. We are shame-proofe my Lord: and 'tis some
policie, to haue one shew worse then the Kings and his
companie

   Kin. I say they shall not come

   Qu. Nay my good Lord, let me ore-rule you now;
That sport best pleases, that doth least know how.
Where Zeale striues to content, and the contents
Dies in the Zeale of that which it presents:
Their forme confounded, makes most forme in mirth,
When great things labouring perish in their birth

   Ber. A right description of our sport my Lord.
Enter Braggart.

  Brag. Annointed, I implore so much expence of thy
royall sweet breath, as will vtter a brace of words

   Qu. Doth this man serue God?
  Ber. Why aske you?
  Qu. He speak's not like a man of God's making

   Brag. That's all one my faire sweet honie Monarch:
For I protest, the Schoolmaster is exceeding fantasticall:
Too too vaine, too too vaine. But we wil put it (as they
say) to Fortuna delaguar, I wish you the peace of minde
most royall cupplement

   King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies;
He presents Hector of Troy, the Swaine Pompey y great,
the Parish Curate Alexander, Armadoes Page Hercules,
the Pedant Iudas Machabeus: and if these foure Worthies
in their first shew thriue, these foure will change
habites, and present the other fiue

   Ber. There is fiue in the first shew

   Kin. You are deceiued, tis not so

   Ber. The Pedant, the Braggart, the Hedge-Priest, the
Foole, and the Boy,
Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world againe,
Cannot pricke out fiue such, take each one in's vaine

   Kin. The ship is vnder saile, and here she coms amain.
Enter Pompey.

  Clo. I Pompey am

   Ber. You lie, you are not he

   Clo. I Pompey am

   Boy. With Libbards head on knee

   Ber. Well said old mocker,
I must needs be friends with thee

   Clo. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big

   Du. The great

   Clo. It is great sir: Pompey surnam'd the great:
That oft in field, with Targe and Shield,
did make my foe to sweat:
And trauailing along this coast, I heere am come by chance,
And lay my Armes before the legs of this sweet Lasse of
France.
If your Ladiship would say thankes Pompey, I had done

   La. Great thankes great Pompey

   Clo. Tis not so much worth: but I hope I was perfect.
I made a little fault in great

   Ber. My hat to a halfe-penie, Pompey prooues the
best Worthie.
Enter Curate for Alexander.

  Curat. When in the world I liu'd, I was the worldes Commander:
By East, West, North, & South, I spred my conquering might
My Scutcheon plaine declares that I am Alisander

   Boiet. Your nose saies no, you are not:
For it stands too right

   Ber. Your nose smells no, in this most tender smelling
Knight

   Qu. The Conqueror is dismaid:
Proceede good Alexander

   Cur. When in the world I liued, I was the worldes Commander

   Boiet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so Alisander

   Ber. Pompey the great

   Clo. your seruant and Costard

   Ber. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alisander
  Clo. O sir, you haue ouerthrowne Alisander the conqueror:
you will be scrap'd out of the painted cloth for
this: your Lion that holds his Pollax sitting on a close
stoole, will be giuen to Aiax. He will be the ninth worthie.
A Conqueror, and affraid to speake? Runne away
for shame Alisander. There an't shall please you: a foolish
milde man, an honest man, looke you, & soon dasht.
He is a maruellous good neighbour insooth, and a verie
good Bowler: but for Alisander, alas you see, how 'tis a
little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a comming,
will speake their minde in some other sort.

Exit Cu.

  Qu. Stand aside good Pompey.
Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.

  Ped. Great Hercules is presented by this Impe,
Whose Club kil'd Cerberus that three-headed Canus,
And when he was a babe, a childe, a shrimpe,
Thus did he strangle Serpents in his Manus:
Quoniam, he seemeth in minoritie,
Ergo, I come with this Apologie.
Keepe some state in thy exit, and vanish.

Exit Boy

  Ped. Iudas I am

   Dum. A Iudas?
  Ped. Not Iscariot sir.
Iudas I am, ycliped Machabeus

   Dum. Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas

   Ber. A kissing traitor. How art thou prou'd Iudas?
  Ped. Iudas I am

   Dum. The more shame for you Iudas

   Ped. What meane you sir?
  Boi. To make Iudas hang himselfe

   Ped. Begin sir, you are my elder

   Ber. Well follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder

   Ped. I will not be put out of countenance

   Ber. Because thou hast no face

   Ped. What is this?
  Boi. A Citterne head

   Dum. The head of a bodkin

   Ber. A deaths face in a ring

   Lon. The face of an old Roman coine, scarce seene

   Boi. The pummell of Cæsars Faulchion

   Dum. The caru'd-bone face on a Flaske

   Ber. S[aint]. Georges halfe cheeke in a brooch

   Dum. I, and in a brooch of Lead

   Ber. I, and worne in the cap of a Tooth-drawer.
And now forward, for we haue put thee in countenance
  Ped. You haue put me out of countenance

   Ber. False, we haue giuen thee faces

   Ped. But you haue out-fac'd them all

   Ber. And thou wer't a Lion, we would do so

   Boy. Therefore as he is, an Asse, let him go:
And so adieu sweet Iude. Nay, why dost thou stay?
  Dum. For the latter end of his name

   Ber. For the Asse to the Iude: giue it him. Iudas away

   Ped. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble

   Boy. A light for monsieur Iudas, it growes darke, he
may stumble

   Que. Alas poore Machabeus, how hath hee beene
baited.
Enter Braggart.

  Ber. Hide thy head Achilles, heere comes Hector in
Armes

   Dum. Though my mockes come home by me, I will
now be merrie

   King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this

   Boi. But is this Hector?
  Kin. I thinke Hector was not so cleane timber'd

   Lon. His legge is too big for Hector

   Dum. More Calfe certaine

   Boi. No, he is best indued in the small

   Ber. This cannot be Hector

   Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces

   Brag. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty,
gaue Hector a gift

   Dum. A gilt Nutmegge

   Ber. A Lemmon

   Lon. Stucke with Cloues

   Dum. No clouen

   Brag. The Armipotent Mars of Launces the almighty,
Gaue Hector a gift, the heire of Illion;
A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight: yea
From morne till night, out of his Pauillion.
I am that Flower

   Dum. That Mint

   Long. That Cullambine

   Brag. Sweet Lord Longauill reine thy tongue

   Lon. I must rather giue it the reine: for it runnes against
Hector

   Dum. I, and Hector's a Grey-hound

   Brag. The sweet War-man is dead and rotten,
Sweet chuckes, beat not the bones of the buried:
But I will forward with my deuice;
Sweete Royaltie bestow on me the sence of hearing.

Berowne steppes forth.

  Qu. Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted

   Brag. i do adore thy sweet Graces slipper

   Boy. Loues her by the foot

   Dum. He may not by the yard

   Brag. This Hector farre surmounted Hanniball.
The partie is gone

   Clo. Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two moneths
on her way

   Brag. What meanest thou?
  Clo. Faith vnlesse you play the honest Troyan, the
poore Wench is cast away: she's quick, the child brags
in her belly alreadie: tis yours

   Brag. Dost thou infamonize me among Potentates?
Thou shalt die

   Clo. Then shall Hector be whipt for Iaquenetta that
is quicke by him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by
him

   Dum. Most rare Pompey

   Boi. Renowned Pompey

   Ber. Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey:
Pompey the huge

   Dum. Hector trembles

   Ber. Pompey is moued, more Atees more Atees stirre
them, or stirre them on

   Dum. Hector will challenge him

   Ber. I, if a'haue no more mans blood in's belly, then
will sup a Flea

   Brag. By the North-pole I do challenge thee

   Clo. I wil not fight with a pole like a Northern man;
Ile slash, Ile do it by the sword: I pray you let mee borrow
my Armes againe

   Dum. Roome for the incensed Worthies

   Clo. Ile do it in my shirt

   Dum. Most resolute Pompey

   Page. Master, let me take you a button hole lower:
Do you not see Pompey is vncasing for the combat: what
meane you? you will lose your reputation

   Brag. Gentlemen and Souldiers pardon me, I will
not combat in my shirt

   Du. You may not denie it, Pompey hath made the
challenge

   Brag. Sweet bloods, I both may, and will

   Ber. What reason haue you for't?
  Brag. The naked truth of it is, I haue no shirt,
I go woolward for penance

   Boy. True, and it was inioyned him in Rome for want
of Linnen: since when, Ile be sworne he wore none, but
a dishclout of Iaquenettas, and that hee weares next his
heart for a fauour.
Enter a Messenger, Monsieur Marcade.

  Mar. God saue you Madame

   Qu. Welcome Marcade, but that thou interruptest
our merriment

   Marc. I am sorrie Madam, for the newes I bring is
heauie in my tongue. The King your father
  Qu. Dead for my life

   Mar. Euen so: My tale is told

   Ber. Worthies away, the Scene begins to cloud

   Brag. For mine owne part, I breath free breath: I
haue seene the day of wrong, through the little hole of
discretion, and I will right my selfe like a Souldier.

Exeunt. Worthies

  Kin. How fare's your Maiestie?
  Qu. Boyet prepare, I will away to night

   Kin. Madame not so, I do beseech you stay

   Qu. Prepare I say. I thanke you gracious Lords
For all your faire endeuours and entreats:
Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe,
In your rich wisedome to excuse, or hide,
The liberall opposition of our spirits,
If ouer-boldly we haue borne our selues,
In the conuerse of breath (your gentlenesse
Was guiltie of it.) Farewell worthie Lord:
A heauie heart beares not a humble tongue.
Excuse me so, comming so short of thankes,
For my great suite, so easily obtain'd

   Kin. The extreme parts of time, extremelie formes
All causes to the purpose of his speed:
And often at his verie loose decides
That, which long processe could not arbitrate.
And though the mourning brow of progenie
Forbid the smiling curtesie of Loue:
The holy suite which faine it would conuince,
Yet since loues argument was first on foote,
Let not the cloud of sorrow iustle it
From what it purpos'd: since to waile friends lost,
Is not by much so wholsome profitable,
As to reioyce at friends but newly found

   Qu. I vnderstand you not, my greefes are double

   Ber. Honest plain words, best pierce the ears of griefe
And by these badges vnderstand the King,
For your faire sakes haue we neglected time,
Plaid foule play with our oaths: your beautie Ladies
Hath much deformed vs, fashioning our humors
Euen to the opposed end of our intents.
And what in vs hath seem'd ridiculous:
As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines,
All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine.
Form'd by the eie, and therefore like the eie.
Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of formes
Varying in subiects as the eie doth roule,
To euerie varied obiect in his glance:
Which partie-coated presence of loose loue
Put on by vs, if in your heauenly eies,
Haue misbecom'd our oathes and grauities.
Those heauenlie eies that looke into these faults,
Suggested vs to make: therefore Ladies
Our loue being yours, the error that Loue makes
Is likewise yours. We to our selues proue false,
By being once false, for euer to be true
To those that make vs both, faire Ladies you.
And euen that falshood in it selfe a sinne,
Thus purifies it selfe, and turnes to grace

   Qu. We haue receiu'd your Letters, full of Loue:
Your Fauours, the Ambassadors of Loue.
And in our maiden counsaile rated them,
At courtship, pleasant iest, and curtesie,
As bumbast and as lining to the time:
But more deuout then these are our respects
Haue we not bene, and therefore met your loues
In their owne fashion, like a merriment

   Du. Our letters Madam, shew'd much more then iest

   Lon. So did our lookes

   Rosa. We did not coat them so

   Kin. Now at the latest minute of the houre,
Grant vs your loues

   Qu. A time me thinkes too short,
To make a world-without-end bargaine in:
No, no my Lord, your Grace is periur'd much,
Full of deare guiltinesse, and therefore this:
If for my Loue (as there is no such cause)
You will do ought, this shall you do for me.
Your oth I will not trust: but go with speed
To some forlorne and naked Hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world:
There stay, vntill the twelue Celestiall Signes
Haue brought about their annuall reckoning.
If this austere insociable life,
Change not your offer made in heate of blood:
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds
Nip not the gaudie blossomes of your Loue,
But that it beare this triall, and last loue:
Then at the expiration of the yeare,
Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,
And by this Virgin palme, now kissing thine,
I will be thine: and till that instant shut
My wofull selfe vp in a mourning house,
Raining the teares of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my Fathers death.
If this thou do denie, let our hands part,
Neither intitled in the others hart

   Kin. If this, or more then this, I would denie,
To flatter vp these powers of mine with rest,
The sodaine hand of death close vp mine eie.
Hence euer then, my heart is in thy brest

   Ber. And what to me my Loue? and what to me?
  Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd.
You are attaint with faults and periurie:
Therefore if you my fauor meane to get,
A tweluemonth shall you spend, and neuer rest,
But seeke the wearie beds of people sicke

   Du. But what to me my loue? but what to me?
  Kat. A wife? a beard, faire health, and honestie,
With three-fold loue, I wish you all these three

   Du. O shall I say, I thanke you gentle wife?
  Kat. Not so my Lord, a tweluemonth and a day,
Ile marke no words that smoothfac'd wooers say.
Come when the King doth to my Ladie come:
Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you some

   Dum. Ile serue thee true and faithfully till then

   Kath. Yet sweare not, least ye be forsworne agen

   Lon. What saies Maria?
  Mari. At the tweluemonths end,
Ile change my blacke Gowne, for a faithfull friend

   Lon. Ile stay with patience: but the time is long

   Mari. The liker you, few taller are so yong

   Ber. Studies my Ladie? Mistresse, looke on me,
Behold the window of my heart, mine eie:
What humble suite attends thy answer there,
Impose some seruice on me for my loue

   Ros. Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne,
Before I saw you: and the worlds large tongue
Proclaimes you for a man repleate with mockes,
Full of comparisons, and wounding floutes:
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the mercie of your wit.
To weed this Wormewood from your fruitfull braine,
And therewithall to win me, if you please,
Without the which I am not to be won:
You shall this tweluemonth terme from day to day,
Visit the speechlesse sicke, and still conuerse
With groaning wretches: and your taske shall be,
With all the fierce endeuour of your wit,
To enforce the pained impotent to smile

   Ber. To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death?
It cannot be, it is impossible.
Mirth cannot moue a soule in agonie

   Ros. Why that's the way to choke a gibing spirit,
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,
Which shallow laughing hearers giue to fooles:
A iests prosperitie, lies in the eare
Of him that heares it, neuer in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly eares,
Deaft with the clamors of their owne deare grones,
Will heare your idle scornes; continue then,
And I will haue you, and that fault withall.
But if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shal finde you emptie of that fault,
Right ioyfull of your reformation

   Ber. A tweluemonth? Well: befall what will befall,
Ile iest a tweluemonth in an Hospitall

   Qu. I sweet my Lord, and so I take my leaue

   King. No Madam, we will bring you on your way

   Ber. Our woing doth not end like an old Play:
Iacke hath not Gill: these Ladies courtesie
Might wel haue made our sport a Comedie

   Kin. Come sir, it wants a tweluemonth and a day,
And then 'twil end

   Ber. That's too long for a play.
Enter Braggart.

  Brag. Sweet Maiesty vouchsafe me

   Qu. Was not that Hector?
  Dum. The worthie Knight of Troy

   Brag. I wil kisse thy royal finger, and take leaue.
I am a Votarie, I haue vow'd to Iaquenetta to holde the
Plough for her sweet loue three yeares. But most esteemed
greatnesse, wil you heare the Dialogue that the two
Learned men haue compiled, in praise of the Owle and
the Cuckow? It should haue followed in the end of our
shew

   Kin. Call them forth quickely, we will do so

   Brag. Holla, Approach.
Enter all.

This side is Hiems, Winter.
This Ver, the Spring: the one maintained by the Owle,
Th' other by the Cuckow.
Ver, begin.

The Song.

When Dasies pied, and Violets blew,
And Cuckow-buds of yellow hew:
And Ladie-smockes all siluer white,
Do paint the Medowes with delight.
The Cuckow then on euerie tree,
Mockes married men, for thus sings he,
Cuckow.
Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,
Vnpleasing to a married eare.
When Shepheards pipe on Oaten strawes,
And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens clockes:
When Turtles tread, and Rookes and Dawes,
And Maidens bleach their summer smockes:
The Cuckow then on euerie tree
Mockes married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckow.
Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,
Vnpleasing to a married eare

   Winter. When Isicles hang by the wall,
And Dicke the Shepheard blowes his naile;
And Tom beares Logges into the hall,
And Milke comes frozen home in paile:
When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle,
Then nightly sings the staring Owle
Tuwhit towho.
A merrie note,
While greasie Ione doth keele the pot.
When all aloud the winde doth blow,
And coffing drownes the Parsons saw:
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marrians nose lookes red and raw:
When roasted Crabs hisse in the bowle,
Then nightly sings the staring Owle,
Tuwhit towho:
A merrie note,
While greasie Ione doth keele the pot

   Brag. The Words of Mercurie,
Are harsh after the songs of Apollo:
You that way; we this way.

Exeunt. omnes.

FINIS. Loues Labour's lost.


A Midsommer Nights Dreame

Actus primus.

Enter Theseus, Hippolita, with others.

  Theseus. Now faire Hippolita, our nuptiall houre
Drawes on apace: foure happy daies bring in
Another Moon: but oh, me thinkes, how slow
This old Moon wanes; She lingers my desires
Like to a Step-dame, or a Dowager,
Long withering out a yong mans reuennew

   Hip. Foure daies wil quickly steep the[m]selues in nights
Foure nights wil quickly dreame away the time:
And then the Moone, like to a siluer bow,
Now bent in heauen, shal behold the night
Of our solemnities

   The. Go Philostrate,
Stirre vp the Athenian youth to merriments,
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth,
Turne melancholy forth to Funerals:
The pale companion is not for our pompe,
Hippolita, I woo'd thee with my sword,
And wonne thy loue, doing thee iniuries:
But I will wed thee in another key,
With pompe, with triumph, and with reuelling.
Enter Egeus and his daughter Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius.

  Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke

   The. Thanks good Egeus: what's the news with thee?
  Ege. Full of vexation, come I, with complaint
Against my childe, my daughter Hermia.

Stand forth Demetrius.

My Noble Lord,
This man hath my consent to marrie her.

Stand forth Lysander.

And my gracious Duke,
This man hath bewitch'd the bosome of my childe:
Thou, thou Lysander, thou hast giuen her rimes,
And interchang'd loue-tokens with my childe:
Thou hast by Moone-light at her window sung,
With faining voice, verses of faining loue,
And stolne the impression of her fantasie,
With bracelets of thy haire, rings, gawdes, conceits,
Knackes, trifles, Nose-gaies, sweet meats (messengers
Of strong preuailment in vnhardned youth)
With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughters heart,
Turn'd her obedience (which is due to me)
To stubborne harshnesse. And my gracious Duke,
Be it so she will not heere before your Grace,
Consent to marrie with Demetrius,
I beg the ancient priuiledge of Athens;
As she is mine, I may dispose of her;
Which shall be either to this Gentleman,
Or to her death, according to our Law,
Immediately prouided in that case

   The. What say you Hermia? be aduis'd faire Maide,
To you your Father should be as a God;
One that compos'd your beauties; yea and one
To whom you are but as a forme in waxe
By him imprinted: and within his power,
To leaue the figure, or disfigure it:
Demetrius is a worthy Gentleman

   Her. So is Lysander

   The. In himselfe he is.
But in this kinde, wanting your fathers voyce,
The other must be held the worthier

   Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes

   The. Rather your eies must with his iudgment looke

   Her. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me.
I know not by what power I am made bold,
Nor how it may concerne my modestie
In such a presence heere to pleade my thoughts:
But I beseech your Grace, that I may know
The worst that may befall me in this case,
If I refuse to wed Demetrius

   The. Either to dye the death, or to abiure
For euer the society of men.
Therefore faire Hermia question your desires,
Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
Whether (if you yeeld not to your fathers choice)
You can endure the liuerie of a Nunne,
For aye to be in shady Cloister mew'd,
To liue a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymnes to the cold fruitlesse Moone,
Thrice blessed they that master so their blood,
To vndergo such maiden pilgrimage,
But earthlier happie is the Rose distil'd,
Then that which withering on the virgin thorne,
Growes, liues, and dies, in single blessednesse

   Her. So will I grow, so liue, so die my Lord,
Ere I will yeeld my virgin Patent vp
Vnto his Lordship, whose vnwished yoake,
My soule consents not to giue soueraignty

   The. Take time to pause, and by the next new Moon
The sealing day betwixt my loue and me,
For euerlasting bond of fellowship:
Vpon that day either prepare to dye,
For disobedience to your fathers will,
Or else to wed Demetrius as hee would,
Or on Dianaes Altar to protest
For aie, austerity, and single life

   Dem. Relent sweet Hermia, and Lysander, yeelde
Thy crazed title to my certaine right

   Lys. You haue her fathers loue, Demetrius:
Let me haue Hermiaes: do you marry him

   Egeus. Scornfull Lysander, true, he hath my Loue;
And what is mine, my loue shall render him.
And she is mine, and all my right of her,
I do estate vnto Demetrius

   Lys. I am my Lord, as well deriu'd as he,
As well possest: my loue is more then his:
My fortunes euery way as fairely ranck'd
(If not with vantage) as Demetrius:
And (which is more then all these boasts can be)
I am belou'd of beauteous Hermia.
Why should not I then prosecute my right?
Demetrius, Ile auouch it to his head,
Made loue to Nedars daughter, Helena,
And won her soule: and she (sweet Ladie) dotes,
Deuoutly dotes, dotes in Idolatry,
Vpon this spotted and inconstant man

   The. I must confesse, that I haue heard so much,
And with Demetrius thought to haue spoke thereof:
But being ouer-full of selfe-affaires,
My minde did lose it. But Demetrius come,
And come Egeus, you shall go with me,
I haue some priuate schooling for you both.
For you faire Hermia, looke you arme your selfe,
To fit your fancies to your Fathers will;
Or else the Law of Athens yeelds you vp
(Which by no meanes we may extenuate)
To death, or to a vow of single life.
Come my Hippolita, what cheare my loue?
Demetrius and Egeus go along:
I must imploy you in some businesse
Against our nuptiall, and conferre with you
Of something, neerely that concernes your selues

   Ege. With dutie and desire we follow you.

Exeunt.

Manet Lysander and Hermia.

  Lys. How now my loue? Why is your cheek so pale?
How chance the Roses there do fade so fast?
  Her. Belike for want of raine, which I could well
Beteeme them, from the tempest of mine eyes

   Lys. For ought that euer I could reade,
Could euer heare by tale or historie,
The course of true loue neuer did run smooth,
But either it was different in blood

   Her. O crosse! too high to be enthral'd to loue

   Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of yeares

   Her. O spight! too old to be ingag'd to yong

   Lys. Or else it stood vpon the choise of merit

   Her. O hell! to choose loue by anothers eie

   Lys. Or if there were a simpathie in choise,
Warre, death, or sicknesse, did lay siege to it;
Making it momentarie, as a sound:
Swift as a shadow, short as any dreame,
Briefe as the lightning in the collied night,
That (in a spleene) vnfolds both heauen and earth;
And ere a man hath power to say, behold,
The iawes of darkness do deuoure it vp:
So quicke bright things come to confusion

   Her. If then true Louers haue beene euer crost,
It stands as an edict in destinie:
Then let vs teach our triall patience,
Because it is a customarie crosse,
As due to loue, as thoughts, and dreames, and sighes,
Wishes and teares; poore Fancies followers

   Lys. A good perswasion; therefore heare me Hermia,
I haue a Widdow Aunt, a dowager,
Of great reuennew, and she hath no childe,
From Athens is her house remou'd seuen leagues,
And she respects me, as her onely sonne:
There gentle Hermia, may I marrie thee,
And to that place, the sharpe Athenian Law
Cannot pursue vs. If thou lou'st me, then
Steale forth thy Fathers house to morrow night:
And in the wood, a league without the towne,
(Where I did meete thee once with Helena.
To do obseruance for a morne of May)
There will I stay for thee

   Her. My good Lysander,
I sweare to thee, by Cupids strongest bow,
By his best arrow with the golden head,
By the simplicitie of Venus Doues,
By that which knitteth soules, and prospers loue,
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queene,
When the false Troyan vnder saile was seene,
By all the vowes that euer men haue broke,
(In number more then euer women spoke)
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
To morrow truly will I meete with thee

   Lys. Keepe promise loue: looke here comes Helena.
Enter Helena.

  Her. God speede faire Helena, whither away?
  Hel. Cal you me faire? that faire againe vnsay,
Demetrius loues you faire: O happie faire!
Your eyes are loadstarres, and your tongues sweete ayre
More tuneable then Larke to shepheards eare,
When wheate is greene, when hauthorne buds appeare,
Sicknesse is catching: O were fauor so,
Your words I catch, faire Hermia ere I go,
My eare should catch your voice, my eye, your eye,
My tongue should catch your tongues sweete melodie,
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,
The rest Ile giue to be to you translated.
O teach me how you looke, and with what art
You sway the motion of Demetrius hart

   Her. I frowne vpon him, yet he loues me still

   Hel. O that your frownes would teach my smiles
such skil

   Her. I giue him curses, yet he giues me loue

   Hel. O that my prayers could such affection mooue

   Her. The more I hate, the more he followes me

   Hel. The more I loue, the more he hateth me

   Her. His folly Helena is none of mine

   Hel. None but your beauty, wold that fault wer mine
  Her. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face,
Lysander and my selfe will flie this place.
Before the time I did Lysander see,
Seem'd Athens like a Paradise to mee.
O then, what graces in my Loue do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heauen into hell

   Lys. Helen, to you our mindes we will vnfold,
To morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
Her siluer visage, in the watry glasse,
Decking with liquid pearle, the bladed grasse
(A time that Louers flights doth still conceale)
Through Athens gates, haue we deuis'd to steale

   Her. And in the wood, where often you and I,
Vpon faint Primrose beds, were wont to lye,
Emptying our bosomes, of their counsell sweld:
There my Lysander, and my selfe shall meete,
And thence from Athens turne away our eyes
To seeke new friends and strange companions,
Farwell sweet play-fellow, pray thou for vs,
And good lucke grant thee thy Demetrius.
Keepe word Lysander we must starue our sight,
From louers foode, till morrow deepe midnight.

Exit Hermia.

  Lys. I will my Hermia. Helena adieu,
As you on him, Demetrius dotes on you.

Exit Lysander.

  Hele. How happy some, ore othersome can be?
Through Athens I am thought as faire as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinkes not so:
He will not know, what all, but he doth know,
And as hee erres, doting on Hermias eyes;
So I, admiring of his qualities:
Things base and vilde, holding no quantity,
Loue can transpose to forme and dignity,
Loue lookes not with the eyes, but with the minde,
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blinde.
Nor hath loues minde of any iudgement taste:
Wings and no eyes, figure, vnheedy haste.
And therefore is Loue said to be a childe,
Because in choise he is often beguil'd,
As waggish boyes in game themselues forsweare;
So the boy Loue is periur'd euery where.
For ere Demetrius lookt on Hermias eyne,
He hail'd downe oathes that he was onely mine.
And when this Haile some heat from Hermia felt,
So he dissolu'd, and showres of oathes did melt,
I will goe tell him of faire Hermias flight:
Then to the wood will he, to morrow night
Pursue her; and for his intelligence,
If I haue thankes, it is a deere expence:
But heerein meane I to enrich my paine,
To haue his sight thither, and backe againe.
Enter.

Enter Quince the Carpenter, Snug the Ioyner, Bottome the Weauer,
Flute
the bellowes-mender, Snout the Tinker, and Starueling the Taylor.

  Quin. Is all our company heere?
  Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by
man according to the scrip

   Qui. Here is the scrowle of euery mans name, which
is thought fit through all Athens, to play in our Enterlude
before the Duke and the Dutches, on his wedding
day at night

   Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats
on: then read the names of the Actors: and so grow on
to a point

   Quin. Marry our play is the most lamentable comedy,
and most cruell death of Pyramus and Thisbie

   Bot. A very good peece of worke I assure you, and a
merry. Now good Peter Quince, call forth your Actors
by the scrowle. Masters spread your selues

   Quince. Answere as I call you. Nick Bottome the
Weauer

   Bottome. Ready; name what part I am for, and
proceed

   Quince. You Nicke Bottome are set downe for Pyramus

   Bot. What is Pyramus, a louer, or a tyrant?
  Quin. A Louer that kills himselfe most gallantly for
loue

   Bot. That will aske some teares in the true performing
of it: if I do it, let the audience looke to their eies:
I will mooue stormes; I will condole in some measure.
To the rest yet, my chiefe humour is for a tyrant. I could
play Ercles rarely, or a part to teare a Cat in, to make all
split the raging Rocks; and shiuering shocks shall break
the locks of prison gates, and Phibbus carre shall shine
from farre, and make and marre the foolish Fates. This
was lofty. Now name the rest of the Players. This
is Ercles vaine, a tyrants vaine: a louer is more condoling

   Quin. Francis Flute the Bellowes-mender

   Flu. Heere Peter Quince

   Quin. You must take Thisbie on you

   Flut. What is Thisbie, a wandring Knight?
  Quin. It is the Lady that Pyramus must loue

   Flut. Nay faith, let not mee play a woman, I haue a
beard comming

   Qui. That's all one, you shall play it in a Maske, and
you may speake as small as you will

   Bot. And I may hide my face, let me play Thisbie too:
Ile speake in a monstrous little voyce; Thisne, Thisne, ah
Pyramus my louer deare, thy Thisbie deare, and Lady
deare

   Quin. No no, you must play Pyramus, and Flute, you
Thisby

   Bot. Well, proceed

   Qu. Robin Starueling the Taylor

   Star. Heere Peter Quince

   Quince. Robin Starueling, you must play Thisbies
mother?
Tom Snowt, the Tinker

   Snowt. Heere Peter Quince

   Quin. you, Pyramus father; my self, Thisbies father;
Snugge the Ioyner, you the Lyons part: and I hope there
is a play fitted

   Snug. Haue you the Lions part written? pray you if
be, giue it me, for I am slow of studie

   Quin. You may doe it extemporie, for it is nothing
but roaring

   Bot. Let mee play the Lyon too, I will roare that I
will doe any mans heart good to heare me. I will roare,
that I will make the Duke say, Let him roare againe, let
him roare againe

   Quin. If you should do it too terribly, you would
fright the Dutchesse and the Ladies, that they would
shrike, and that were enough to hang us all

   All. That would hang vs euery mothers sonne

   Bottome. I graunt you friends, if that you should
fright the Ladies out of their Wittes, they would
haue no more discretion but to hang vs: but I will aggrauate
my voyce so, that I will roare you as gently as
any sucking Doue; I will roare and 'twere any Nightingale

   Quin. You can play no part but Piramus, for Piramus
is a sweet-fac'd man, a proper man as one shall see in
a summers day; a most louely Gentleman-like man, therfore
you must needs play Piramus

   Bot. Well, I will vndertake it. What beard were I
best to play it in?
  Quin. Why, what you will

   Bot. I will discharge it, in either your straw-colour
beard, your orange tawnie beard, your purple in graine
beard, or your French-crowne colour'd beard, your perfect
yellow

   Quin. Some of your French Crownes haue no haire
at all, and then you will play bare-fac'd. But masters here
are your parts, and I am to intreat you, request you, and
desire you, to con them by too morrow night: and meet
me in the palace wood, a mile without the Towne, by
Moone-light, there we will rehearse: for if we meete in
the Citie, we shalbe dog'd with company, and our deuises
knowne. In the meane time, I wil draw a bil of properties,
such as our play wants. I pray you faile me not

   Bottom. We will meete, and there we may rehearse
more obscenely and couragiously. Take paines, be perfect,
adieu

   Quin. At the Dukes oake we meete

   Bot. Enough, hold or cut bow-strings.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

Enter a Fairie at one dore, and Robin goodfellow at another.

  Rob. How now spirit, whether wander you?
  Fai. Ouer hil, ouer dale, through bush, through briar,
Ouer parke, ouer pale, through flood, through fire,
I do wander euerie where, swifter then y Moons sphere;
And I serue the Fairy Queene, to dew her orbs vpon the green.
The Cowslips tall, her pensioners bee,
In their gold coats, spots you see,
Those be Rubies, Fairie fauors,
In those freckles, liue their sauors,
I must go seeke some dew drops heere,
And hang a pearle in euery cowslips eare.
Farewell thou Lob of spirits, Ile be gon,
Our Queene and all her Elues come heere anon

   Rob. The King doth keepe his Reuels here to night,
Take heed the Queene come not within his sight,
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
Because that she, as her attendant, hath
A louely boy stolne from an Indian King,
She neuer had so sweet a changeling,
And iealous Oberon would haue the childe
Knight of his traine, to trace the Forrests wilde.
But she (perforce) with-holds the loued boy,
Crownes him with flowers, and makes him all her ioy.
And now they neuer meete in groue, or greene,
By fountaine cleere, or spangled star-light sheene,
But they do square, that all their Elues for feare
Creepe into Acorne cups and hide them there

   Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrew'd and knauish spirit
Cal'd Robin Good-fellow. Are you not hee,
That frights the maidens of the Villagree,
Skim milke, and sometimes labour in the querne,
And bootlesse make the breathlesse huswife cherne,
And sometime make the drinke to beare no barme,
Misleade night-wanderers, laughing at their harme,
Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Pucke,
You do their worke, and they shall haue good lucke.
Are not you he?
  Rob. Thou speak'st aright;
I am that merrie wanderer of the night:
I iest to Oberon, and make him smile,
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likenesse of a silly foale,
And sometime lurke I in a Gossips bole,
In very likenesse of a roasted crab:
And when she drinkes, against her lips I bob,
And on her withered dewlop poure the Ale.
The wisest Aunt telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stoole, mistaketh me,
Then slip I from her bum, downe topples she,
And tailour cries, and fals into a coffe.
And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe,
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and sweare,
A merrier houre was neuer wasted there.
But roome Fairy, heere comes Oberon

   Fair. And heere my Mistris:
Would that he were gone.
Enter the King of Fairies at one doore with his traine, and the
Queene at
another with hers.

  Ob. Ill met by Moone-light.
Proud Tytania

   Qu. What, iealous Oberon? Fairy skip hence.
I haue forsworne his bed and companie

   Ob. Tarrie rash Wanton; am not I thy Lord?
  Qu. Then I must be thy Lady: but I know
When thou wast stolne away from Fairy Land,
And in the shape of Corin, sate all day,
Playing on pipes of Corne, and versing loue
To amorous Phillida. Why art thou heere
Come from the farthest steepe of India?
But that forsooth the bouncing Amazon
Your buskin'd Mistresse, and your Warrior loue,
To Theseus must be Wedded; and you come,
To giue their bed ioy and prosperitie

   Ob. How canst thou thus for shame Tytania.
Glance at my credite, with Hippolita?
Knowing I know thy loue to Theseus?
Didst thou not leade him through the glimmering night
From Peregenia, whom he rauished?
And make him with faire Eagles breake his faith
With Ariadne, and Antiopa?
  Que. These are the forgeries of iealousie,
And neuer since the middle Summers spring
Met we on hil, in dale, forrest, or mead,
By paued fountaine, or by rushie brooke,
Or in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling Winde,
But with thy braules thou hast disturb'd our sport.
Therefore the Windes, piping to vs in vaine,
As in reuenge, haue suck'd vp from the sea
Contagious fogges: Which falling in the Land,
Hath euerie petty Riuer made so proud,
That they haue ouer-borne their Continents.
The Oxe hath therefore stretch'd his yoake in vaine,
The Ploughman lost his sweat, and the greene Corne
Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard:
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And Crowes are fatted with the murrion flocke,
The nine mens Morris is fild vp with mud,
And the queint Mazes in the wanton greene,
For lacke of tread are vndistinguishable.
The humane mortals want their winter heere,
No night is now with hymne or caroll blest;
Therefore the Moone (the gouernesse of floods)
Pale in her anger, washes all the aire;
That Rheumaticke diseases doe abound.
And through this distemperature, we see
The seasons alter; hoared headed Frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson Rose,
And on old Hyems chinne and Icie crowne,
An odorous Chaplet of sweet Sommer buds
Is as in mockry set. The Spring, the Sommer,
The childing Autumne, angry Winter change
Their wonted Liueries, and the mazed world,
By their increase, now knowes not which is which;
And this same progeny of euills,
Comes from our debate, from our dissention,
We are their parents and originall

   Ober. Do you amend it then, it lies in you,
Why should Titania crosse her Oberon?
I do but beg a little changeling boy,
To be my Henchman

   Qu. Set your heart at rest,
The Fairy land buyes not the childe of me,
His mother was a Votresse of my Order,
And in the spiced Indian aire, by night
Full often hath she gossipt by my side,
And sat with me on Neptunes yellow sands,
Marking th' embarked traders on the flood,
When we haue laught to see the sailes conceiue,
And grow big bellied with the wanton winde:
Which she with pretty and with swimming gate,
Following (her wombe then rich with my yong squire)
Would imitate, and saile vpon the Land,
To fetch me trifles, and returne againe,
As from a voyage, rich with merchandize.
But she being mortall, of that boy did die,
And for her sake I doe reare vp her boy,
And for her sake I will not part with him

   Ob. How long within this wood intend you stay?
  Qu. Perchance till after Theseus wedding day.
If you will patiently dance in our Round,
And see our Moone-light reuels, goe with vs;
If not, shun me and I will spare your haunts

   Ob. Giue me that boy, and I will goe with thee

   Qu. Not for thy Fairy Kingdome. Fairies away:
We shall chide downe right, if I longer stay.

Exeunt

   Ob. Wel, go thy way: thou shalt not from this groue,
Till I torment thee for this iniury.
My gentle Pucke come hither; thou remembrest
Since once I sat vpon a promontory,
And heard a Meare-maide on a Dolphins backe,
Vttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,
That the rude sea grew ciuill at her song,
And certaine starres shot madly from their Spheares,
To heare the Sea-maids musicke

   Puc. I remember

   Ob. That very time I say (but thou couldst not)
Flying betweene the cold Moone and the earth,
Cupid all arm'd; a certaine aime he tooke
At a faire Vestall, throned by the West,
And loos'd his loue-shaft smartly from his bow,
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts,
But I might see young Cupids fiery shaft
Quencht in the chaste beames of the watry Moone;
And the imperiall Votresse passed on,
In maiden meditation, fancy free.
Yet markt I where the bolt of Cupid fell.
It fell vpon a little westerne flower;
Before, milke-white: now purple with loues wound,
And maidens call it, Loue in idlenesse.
Fetch me that flower; the hearb I shew'd thee once,
The iuyce of it, on sleeping eye-lids laid,
Will make or man or woman madly dote
Vpon the next liue creature that it sees.
Fetch me this hearbe, and be thou heere againe,
Ere the Leuiathan can swim a league

   Pucke. Ile put a girdle about the earth, in forty minutes

   Ober. Hauing once this iuyce,
Ile watch Titania, when she is asleepe,
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes:
The next thing when she waking lookes vpon,
(Be it on Lyon, Beare, or Wolfe, or Bull,
On medling Monkey, or on busie Ape)
Shee shall pursue it, with the soule of loue.
And ere I take this charme off from her sight,
(As I can take it with another hearbe)
Ile make her render vp her Page to me.
But who comes heere? I am inuisible,
And I will ouer-heare their conference.
Enter Demetrius, Helena following him.

  Deme. I loue thee not, therefore pursue me not,
Where is Lysander, and faire Hermia?
The one Ile stay, the other stayeth me.
Thou toldst me they were stolne into this wood;
And heere am I, and wood within this wood,
Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more

   Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted Adamant,
But yet you draw not Iron, for my heart
Is true as steele. Leaue you your power to draw,
And I shall haue no power to follow you

   Deme. Do I entice you? do I speake you faire?
Or rather doe I not in plainest truth,
Tell you I doe not, nor I cannot loue you?
  Hel. And euen for that doe I loue thee the more;
I am your spaniell, and Demetrius,
The more you beat me, I will fawne on you.
Vse me but as your spaniell; spurne me, strike me,
Neglect me, lose me; onely giue me leaue
(Vnworthy as I am) to follow you.
What worser place can I beg in your loue,
(And yet a place of high respect with me)
Then to be vsed as you doe your dogge

   Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit,
For I am sicke when I do looke on thee

   Hel. And I am sicke when I looke not on you

   Dem. You doe impeach your modesty too much,
To leaue the Citty, and commit your selfe
Into the hands of one that loues you not,
To trust the opportunity of night.
And the ill counsell of a desert place,
With the rich worth of your virginity

   Hel. Your vertue is my priuiledge: for that
It is not night when I doe see your face.
Therefore I thinke I am not in the night,
Nor doth this wood lacke worlds of company,
For you in my respect are all the world.
Then how can it be said I am alone,
When all the world is heere to looke on me?
  Dem. Ile run from thee, and hide me in the brakes,
And leaue thee to the mercy of wilde beasts

   Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you;
Runne when you will, the story shall be chang'd:
Apollo flies and Daphne holds the chase;
The Doue pursues the Griffin, the milde Hinde
Makes speed to catch the Tyger. Bootlesse speede,
When cowardise pursues, and valour flies

   Demet. I will not stay thy questions, let me go;
Or if thou follow me, doe not beleeue,
But I shall doe thee mischiefe in the wood

   Hel. I, in the Temple, in the Towne, and Field
You doe me mischiefe. Fye Demetrius,
Your wrongs doe set a scandall on my sexe:
We cannot fight for loue, as men may doe;
We should be woo'd, and were not made to wooe.
I follow thee, and make a heauen of hell,
To die vpon the hand I loue so well.
Enter.

  Ob. Fare thee well Nymph, ere he do leaue this groue,
Thou shalt flie him, and he shall seeke thy loue.
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome wanderer.
Enter Pucke.

  Puck. I there it is

   Ob. I pray thee giue it me.
I know a banke where the wilde time blowes,
Where Oxslips and the nodding Violet growes,
Quite ouer-cannoped with luscious woodbine,
With sweet muske roses, and with Eglantine;
There sleepes Tytania, sometime of the night,
Lul'd in these flowers, with dances and delight:
And there the snake throwes her enammel'd skinne,
Weed wide enough to rap a Fairy in.
And with the iuyce of this Ile streake her eyes,
And make her full of hatefull fantasies.
Take thou some of it, and seek through this groue;
A sweet Athenian Lady is in loue
With a disdainefull youth: annoint his eyes,
But doe it when the next thing he espies,
May be the Lady. Thou shalt know the man,
By the Athenian garments he hath on.
Effect it with some care, that he may proue
More fond on her, then she vpon her loue;
And looke thou meet me ere the first Cocke crow

   Pu. Feare not my Lord, your seruant shall do so.
Enter.

Enter Queene of Fairies, with her traine.

  Queen. Come, now a Roundell, and a Fairy song;
Then for the third part of a minute hence,
Some to kill Cankers in the muske rose buds,
Some warre with Reremise, for their leathern wings.
To make my small Elues coates, and some keepe backe
The clamorous Owle that nightly hoots and wonders
At our queint spirits: Sing me now asleepe,
Then to your offices, and let me rest

   Fairies Sing. You spotted Snakes with double tongue,
Thorny Hedgehogges be not seene,
Newts and blinde wormes do no wrong,
Come not neere our Fairy Queene.
Philomele with melodie,
Sing in your sweet Lullaby.
Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby,
Neuer harme, nor spell, nor charme,
Come our louely Lady nye,
So good night with Lullaby

   2.Fairy. Weauing Spiders come not heere,
Hence you long leg'd Spinners, hence:
Beetles blacke approach not neere;
Worme nor Snayle doe no offence.
Philomele with melody, &c

   1.Fairy. Hence away, now all is well;
One aloofe, stand Centinell.

Shee sleepes.

Enter Oberon.

  Ober. What thou seest when thou dost wake,
Do it for thy true Loue take:
Loue and languish for his sake.
Be it Ounce, or Catte, or Beare,
Pard, or Boare with bristled haire,
In thy eye that shall appeare,
When thou wak'st, it is thy deare,
Wake when some vile thing is neere.
Enter Lisander and Hermia.

  Lis. Faire loue, you faint with wandring in y woods,
And to speake troth I haue forgot our way:
Wee'll rest vs Hermia, If you thinke it good,
And tarry for the comfort of the day

   Her. Be it so Lysander; finde you out a bed,
For I vpon this banke will rest my head

   Lys. One turfe shall serue as pillow for vs both,
One heart, one bed, two bosomes, and one troth

   Her. Nay good Lysander, for my sake my deere
Lie further off yet, doe not lie so neere

   Lys. O take the sence sweet, of my innocence,
Loue takes the meaning, in loues conference,
I meane that my heart vnto yours is knit,
So that but one heart can you make of it.
Two bosomes interchanged with an oath,
So then two bosomes, and a single troth.
Then by your side, no bed-roome me deny,
For lying so, Hermia, I doe not lye

   Her. Lysander riddles very prettily;
Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
If Hermia meant to say, Lysander lied.
But gentle friend, for loue and courtesie
Lie further off, in humane modesty,
Such separation, as may well be said,
Becomes a vertuous batchelour, and a maide,
So farre be distant, and good night sweet friend;
Thy loue nere alter, till thy sweet life end

   Lys. Amen, amen, to that faire prayer, say I,
And then end life, when I end loyalty:
Heere is my bed, sleepe giue thee all his rest

   Her. With halfe that wish, the wishers eyes be prest.
Enter Pucke. They sleepe.

  Puck. Through the Forest haue I gone,
But Athenian finde I none,
One whose eyes I might approue
This flowers force in stirring loue.
Nigh and silence: who is heere?
Weedes of Athens he doth weare:
This is he (my master said)
Despised the Athenian maide:
And heere the maiden sleeping sound,
On the danke and durty ground.
Pretty soule, she durst not lye
Neere this lacke-loue, this kill-curtesie.
Churle, vpon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charme doth owe:
When thou wak'st, let loue forbid
Sleepe his seate on thy eye-lid.
So awake when I am gone:
For I must now to Oberon.
Enter.

Enter Demetrius and Helena running.

  Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweete Demetrius

   De. I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus

   Hel. O wilt thou darkling leaue me? do not so

   De. Stay on thy perill, I alone will goe.

Exit Demetrius.

  Hel. O I am out of breath, in this fond chace,
The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace,
Happy is Hermia, wheresoere she lies;
For she hath blessed and attractiue eyes.
How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt teares.
If so, my eyes are oftner washt then hers.
No, no, I am as vgly as a Beare;
For beasts that meete me, runne away for feare,
Therefore no maruaile, though Demetrius
Doe as a monster, flie my presence thus.
What wicked and dissembling glasse of mine,
Made me compare with Hermias sphery eyne?
But who is here? Lysander on the ground;
Deade or asleepe? I see no bloud, no wound,
Lysander, if you liue, good sir awake

   Lys. And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.
Transparent Helena, nature her shewes art,
That through thy bosome makes me see thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? oh how fit a word
Is that vile name, to perish on my sword!
  Hel. Do not say so Lysander, say not so:
What though he loue your Hermia? Lord, what though?
Yet Hermia still loues you; then be content

   Lys. Content with Hermia? no, I do repent
The tedious minutes I with her haue spent.
Not Hermia, but Helena now I loue;
Who will not change a Rauen for a Doue?
The will of man is by his reason sway'd:
And reason saies you are the worthier Maide.
Things growing are not ripe vntill their season;
So I being yong, till now ripe not to reason,
And touching now the point of humane skill,
Reason becomes the Marshall to my will.
And leades me to your eyes, where I orelooke
Loues stories, written in Loues richest booke

   Hel. Wherefore was I to this keene mockery borne?
When at your hands did I deserue this scorne?
Ist not enough, ist not enough, yong man,
That I did neuer, no nor neuer can,
Deserue a sweete looke from Demetrius eye,
But you must flout my insufficiency?
Good troth you do me wrong (good-sooth you do)
In such disdainfull manner, me to wooe.
But fare you well; perforce I must confesse,
I thought you Lord of more true gentlenesse.
Oh, that a Lady of one man refus'd,
Should of another therefore be abus'd.
Enter

   Lys. She sees not Hermia: Hermia sleepe thou there,
And neuer maist thou come Lysander neere;
For as a surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomacke brings:
Or as the heresies that men do leaue,
Are hated most of those that did deceiue:
So thou, my surfeit, and my heresie,
Of all be hated; but the most of me;
And all my powers addresse your loue and might,
To honour Helen, and to be her Knight.
Enter.

  Her. Helpe me Lysander, helpe me; do thy best
To plucke this crawling serpent from my brest.
Aye me, for pitty; what a dreame was here?
Lysander looke, how I do quake with feare:
Me-thought a serpent eate my heart away,
And yet sat smiling at his cruell prey.
Lysander, What remoou'd? Lysander, Lord,
What, out of hearing, gone? No sound, no word?
Alacke where are you? speake and if you heare:
Speake of all loues; I sound almost with feare.
No, then I well perceiue you are not nye,
Either death or you Ile finde immediately.
Enter.


Actus Tertius.

Enter the Clownes.

  Bot. Are we all met?
  Quin. Pat, pat, and here's a maruailous conuenient
place for our rehearsall. This greene plot shall be our
stage, this hauthorne brake our tyring house, and we will
do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke

   Bot. Peter Quince?
  Peter. What saist thou, bully Bottome?
  Bot. There are things in this Comedy of Piramus and
Thisby, that will neuer please. First, Piramus must draw a
sword to kill himselfe; which the Ladies cannot abide.
How answere you that?
  Snout. Berlaken, a parlous feare

   Star. I beleeue we must leaue the killing out, when
all is done

   Bot. Not a whit, I haue a deuice to make all well.
Write me a Prologue, and let the Prologue seeme to say,
we will do no harme with our swords, and that Pyramus
is not kill'd indeede: and for the more better assurance,
tell them, that I Piramus am not Piramus, but Bottome the
Weauer; this will put them out of feare

   Quin. Well, we will haue such a Prologue, and it shall
be written in eight and sixe

   Bot. No, make it two more, let it be written in eight
and eight

   Snout. Will not the Ladies be afear'd of the Lyon?
  Star. I feare it, I promise you

   Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with your selues, to
bring in (God shield vs) a Lyon among Ladies, is a most
dreadfull thing. For there is not a more fearefull wilde
foule then your Lyon liuing: and wee ought to looke
to it

   Snout. Therefore another Prologue must tell he is not
a Lyon

   Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and halfe his face
must be seene through the Lyons necke, and he himselfe
must speake through, saying thus, or to the same defect;
Ladies, or faire Ladies, I would wish you, or I would
request you, or I would entreat you, not to feare, not to
tremble: my life for yours. If you thinke I come hither
as a Lyon, it were pitty of my life. No, I am no such
thing, I am a man as other men are; and there indeed let
him name his name, and tell him plainly hee is Snug the
ioyner

   Quin. Well, it shall be so; but there is two hard
things, that is, to bring the Moone-light into a chamber:
for you know Piramus and Thisby meete by Moonelight

   Sn. Doth the Moone shine that night wee play our
play?
  Bot. A Calender, a Calender, looke in the Almanack,
finde out Moone-shine, finde out Moone-shine.
Enter Pucke.

  Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night

   Bot. Why then may you leaue a casement of the great
chamber window (where we play) open, and the Moone
may shine in at the casement

   Quin. I, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns
and a lanthorne, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present
the person of Moone-shine. Then there is another
thing, we must haue a wall in the great Chamber; for Piramus
and Thisby (saies the story) did talke through the
chinke of a wall

   Sn. You can neuer bring in a wall. What say you
Bottome?
  Bot. Some man or other must present wall, and let
him haue some Plaster, or some Lome, or some rough
cast about him, to signifie wall; or let him hold his fingers
thus; and through that cranny shall Piramus and
Thisby whisper

   Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit
downe euery mothers sonne, and rehearse your parts.
Piramus, you begin; when you haue spoken your speech,
enter into that Brake, and so euery one according to his
cue.
Enter Robin.

  Rob. What hempen home-spuns haue we swaggering
here,
So neere the Cradle of the Faierie Queene?
What, a Play toward? Ile be an auditor,
An Actor too perhaps, if I see cause

   Quin. Speake Piramus: Thisby stand forth

   Pir. Thisby, the flowers of odious sauors sweete

   Quin. Odours, odours

   Pir. Odours sauors sweete,
So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby deare.
But harke, a voyce: stay thou but here a while,
And by and by I will to thee appeare.

Exit. Pir.

  Puck. A stranger Piramus, then ere plaid here

   This. Must I speake now?
  Pet. I marry must you. For you must vnderstand he
goes but to see a noyse that he heard, and is to come againe

   Thys. Most radiant Piramus, most Lilly white of hue,
Of colour like the red rose on triumphant bryer,
Most brisky Iuuenall, and eke most louely Iew,
As true as truest horse, that yet would neuer tyre,
Ile meete thee Piramus, at Ninnies toombe

   Pet. Ninus toombe man: why, you must not speake
that yet; that you answere to Piramus: you speake all
your part at once, cues and all. Piramus enter, your cue is
past; it is neuer tyre

   Thys. O, as true as truest horse, that yet would neuer
tyre:
  Pir. If I were faire, Thisby I were onely thine

   Pet. O monstrous. O strange. We are hanted; pray
masters, flye masters, helpe.

The Clownes all Exit.

  Puk. Ile follow you, Ile leade you about a Round,
Through bogge, through bush, through brake, through bryer,
Sometime a horse Ile be, sometime a hound:
A hogge, a headlesse beare, sometime a fire,
And neigh, and barke, and grunt, and rore, and burne,
Like horse, hound, hog, beare, fire, at euery turne.
Enter.

Enter Piramus with the Asse head.

  Bot. Why do they run away? This is a knauery of
them to make me afeard.
Enter Snowt

   Sn. O Bottom, thou art chang'd; What doe I see on
thee?
  Bot. What do you see? You see an Asse-head of your
owne, do you?
Enter Peter Quince.

  Pet. Blesse thee Bottome, blesse thee; thou art translated.
Enter.

  Bot. I see their knauery; this is to make an asse of me,
to fright me if they could; but I will not stirre from
this place, do what they can. I will walke vp and downe
here, and I will sing that they shall heare I am not afraid.
The Woosell cocke, so blacke of hew,
With Orenge-tawny bill.
The Throstle, with his note so true,
The Wren and little quill

   Tyta. What Angell wakes me from my flowry bed?
  Bot. The Finch, the Sparrow, and the Larke,
The plainsong Cuckow gray;
Whose note full many a man doth marke,
And dares not answere, nay.
For indeede, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird?
Who would giue a bird the lye, though he cry Cuckow,
neuer so?
  Tyta. I pray thee gentle mortall, sing againe,
Mine eare is much enamored of thy note;
On the first view to say, to sweare I loue thee.
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape.
And thy faire vertues force (perforce) doth moue me

   Bot. Me-thinkes mistresse, you should haue little
reason for that: and yet to say the truth, reason and
loue keepe little company together, nowadayes.
The more the pittie, that some honest neighbours will
not make them friends. Nay, I can gleeke vpon occasion

   Tyta. Thou art as wise, as thou art beautifull

   Bot. Not so neither: but if I had wit enough to get
out of this wood, I haue enough to serue mine owne
turne

   Tyta. Out of this wood, do not desire to goe,
Thou shalt remaine here, whether thou wilt or no.
I am a spirit of no common rate:
The Summer still doth tend vpon my state,
And I doe loue thee; therefore goe with me,
Ile giue thee Fairies to attend on thee;
And they shall fetch thee Iewels from the deepe,
And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleepe:
And I will purge thy mortall grossenesse so,
That thou shalt like an airie spirit go.
Enter Pease-blossome, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseede, and foure
Fairies.

  Fai. Ready; and I, and I, and I, Where shall we go?
  Tita. Be kinde and curteous to this Gentleman,
Hop in his walkes, and gambole in his eies,
Feede him with Apricocks, and Dewberries,
With purple Grapes, greene Figs, and Mulberries,
The honie-bags steale from the humble Bees,
And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighes,
And light them at the fierie-Glow-wormes eyes,
To haue my loue to bed, and to arise:
And plucke the wings from painted Butterflies,
To fan the Moone-beames from his sleeping eies.
Nod to him Elues, and doe him curtesies

   1.Fai. Haile mortall, haile

   2.Fai. Haile

   3.Fai. Haile

   Bot. I cry your worships mercy hartily; I beseech
your worships name

   Cob. Cobweb

   Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good
Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold
with you.
Your name honest Gentleman?
  Pease. Pease Blossome

   Bot. I pray you commend me to mistresse Squash,
your mother, and to master Peascod your father. Good
master Pease-blossome, I shal desire of you more acquaintance
to. Your name I beseech you sir?
  Mus. Mustard-seede

   Peas. Pease-blossome

   Bot. Good master Mustard seede, I know your patience
well: that same cowardly gyant-like Oxe beefe
hath deuoured many a gentleman of your house. I promise
you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere
now. I desire you more acquaintance, good Master
Mustard-seede

   Tita. Come waite vpon him, lead him to my bower.
The Moone me-thinks, lookes with a watrie eie,
And when she weepes, weepe euerie little flower,
Lamenting some enforced chastitie.
Tye vp my louers tongue, bring him silently.
Enter.

Enter King of Pharies, solus.

  Ob. I wonder if Titania be awak't;
Then what it was that next came in her eye,
Which she must dote on, in extremitie.
Enter Pucke.

Here comes my messenger: how now mad spirit,
What night-rule now about this haunted groue?
  Puck. My Mistris with a monster is in loue,
Neere to her close and consecrated bower,
While she was in her dull and sleeping hower,
A crew of patches, rude Mechanicals,
That worke for bread vpon Athenian stals,
Were met together to rehearse a Play,
Intended for great Theseus nuptiall day:
The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort,
Who Piramus presented, in their sport,
Forsooke his Scene, and entred in a brake,
When I did him at this aduantage take,
An Asses nole I fixed on his head.
Anon his Thisbie must be answered,
And forth my Mimmick comes: when they him spie,
As Wilde-geese, that the creeping Fowler eye,
Or russed-pated choughes, many in sort
(Rising and cawing at the guns report)
Seuer themselues, and madly sweepe the skye:
So at his sight, away his fellowes flye,
And at our stampe, here ore and ore one fals;
He murther cries, and helpe from Athens cals.
Their sense thus weake, lost with their feares thus strong,
Made senslesse things begin to do them wrong.
For briars and thornes at their apparell snatch,
Some sleeues, some hats, from yeelders all things catch,
I led them on in this distracted feare,
And left sweete Piramus translated there:
When in that moment (so it came to passe)
Tytania waked, and straightway lou'd an Asse

   Ob. This fals out better then I could deuise:
But hast thou yet lacht the Athenians eyes,
With the loue iuyce, as I bid thee doe?
  Rob. I tooke him sleeping (that is finisht to)
And the Athenian woman by his side,
That when he wak't, of force she must be eyde.
Enter Demetrius and Hermia.

  Ob. Stand close, this is the same Athenian

   Rob. This is the woman, but not this the man

   Dem. O why rebuke you him that loues you so?
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe

   Her. Now I but chide, but I should vse thee worse.
For thou (I feare) hast giuen me cause to curse,
If thou hast slaine Lysander in his sleepe,
Being oreshooes in bloud, plunge in the deepe, and kill
me too:
The Sunne was not so true vnto the day,
As he to me. Would he haue stollen away,
From sleeping Hermia? Ile beleeue as soone
This whole earth may be bord, and that the Moone
May through the Center creepe, and so displease
Her brothers noonetide, with th'Antipodes.
It cannot be but thou hast murdred him,
So should a murtherer looke, so dead, so grim

   Dem. So should the murderer looke, and so should I,
Pierst through the heart with your stearne cruelty:
Yet you the murderer lookes as bright as cleare,
As yonder Venus in her glimmering spheare

   Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he?
Ah good Demetrius, wilt thou giue him me?
  Dem. I'de rather giue his carkasse to my hounds

   Her. Out dog, out cur, thou driu'st me past the bounds
Of maidens patience. Hast thou slaine him then?
Henceforth be neuer numbred among men.
Oh, once tell true, euen for my sake,
Durst thou a lookt vpon him, being awake?
And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O braue tutch:
Could not a worme, an Adder do so much?
An Adder did it: for with doubler tongue
Then thine (thou serpent) neuer Adder stung

   Dem. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood,
I am not guiltie of Lysanders blood:
Nor is he dead for ought that I can tell

   Her. I pray thee tell me then that he is well

   Dem. And if I could, what should I get therefore?
  Her. A priuiledge, neuer to see me more;
And from thy hated presence part I: see me no more
Whether he be dead or no.
Enter.

  Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vaine,
Here therefore for a while I will remaine.
So sorrowes heauinesse doth heauier grow:
For debt that bankrout slip doth sorrow owe,
Which now in some slight measure it will pay,
If for his tender here I make some stay.

Lie downe.

  Ob. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite
And laid the loue iuyce on some true loues sight:
Of thy misprision, must perforce ensue
Some true loue turn'd, and not a false turn'd true

   Rob. Then fate ore-rules, that one man holding troth,
A million faile, confounding oath on oath

   Ob. About the wood, goe swifter then the winde,
And Helena of Athens looke thou finde.
All fancy sicke she is, and pale of cheere,
With sighes of loue, that costs the fresh bloud deare.
By some illusion see thou bring her heere,
Ile charme his eyes against she doth appeare

   Robin. I go, I go, looke how I goe,
Swifter then arrow from the Tartars bowe.
Enter.

  Ob. Flower of this purple die,
Hit with Cupids archery,
Sinke in apple of his eye,
When his loue he doth espie,
Let her shine as gloriously
As the Venus of the sky.
When thou wak'st if she be by,
Beg of her for remedy.
Enter Pucke.

  Puck. Captaine of our Fairy band,
Helena is heere at hand,
And the youth, mistooke by me,
Pleading for a Louers fee.
Shall we their fond Pageant see?
Lord, what fooles these mortals be!
  Ob. Stand aside: the noyse they make,
Will cause Demetrius to awake

   Puck. Then will two at once wooe one,
That must needs be sport alone:
And those things doe best please me,
That befall preposterously.
Enter Lysander and Helena.

  Lys. Why should you think y I should wooe in scorn?
Scorne and derision neuer comes in teares:
Looke when I vow I weepe; and vowes so borne,
In their natiuity all truth appeares.
How can these things in me, seeme scorne to you?
Bearing the badge of faith to proue them true

   Hel. You doe aduance your cunning more & more,
When truth kils truth, O diuelish holy fray!
These vowes are Hermias. Will you giue her ore?
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh.
Your vowes to her, and me, (put in two scales)
Will euen weigh, and both as light as tales

   Lys. I had no iudgement, when to her I swore

   Hel. Nor none in my minde, now you giue her ore

   Lys. Demetrius loues her, and he loues not you.

Awa.

  Dem. O Helen, goddesse, nimph, perfect, diuine,
To what, my loue, shall I compare thine eyne!
Christall is muddy, O how ripe in show,
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow,
Fan'd with the Easterne winde, turnes to a crow,
When thou holdst vp thy hand. O let me kisse
This Princesse of pure white, this seale of blisse

   Hell. O spight! O hell! I see you are all bent
To set against me, for your merriment:
If you were ciuill, and knew curtesie,
You would not doe me thus much iniury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you doe,
But you must ioyne in soules to mocke me to?
If you are men, as men you are in show,
You would not vse a gentle Lady so;
To vow, and sweare, and superpraise my parts,
When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
You both are Riuals, and loue Hermia;
And now both Riuals to mocke Helena.
A trim exploit, a manly enterprize,
To coniure teares vp in a poore maids eyes,
With your derision; none of noble sort,
Would so offend a Virgin, and extort
A poore soules patience, all to make you sport,
  Lysa. You are vnkind Demetrius; be not so,
For you loue Hermia; this you know I know;
And here with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermias loue I yeeld you vp my part;
And yours of Helena, To me bequeath,
Whom I do loue, and will do to my death

   Hel. Neuer did mockers wast more idle breth

   Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia, I will none:
If ere I lou'd her, all that loue is gone.
My heart to her, but as guest-wise soiourn'd,
And now to Helen it is home return'd,
There to remaine

   Lys. It is not so

   De. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
Lest to thy perill thou abide it deare.
Looke where thy Loue comes, yonder is thy deare.
Enter Hermia.

  Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,
The eare more quicke of apprehension makes,
Wherein it doth impaire the seeing sense,
It paies the hearing double recompence.
Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander found,
Mine eare (I thanke it) brought me to that sound.
But why vnkindly didst thou leaue me so?
  Lysan. Why should hee stay whom Loue doth presse to go?
  Her. What loue could presse Lysander from my side?
  Lys. Lysanders loue (that would not let him bide)
Faire Helena; who more engilds the night,
Then all yon fierie oes, and eies of light.
Why seek'st thou me? Could not this make thee know,
The hate I bare thee, made me leaue thee so?
  Her. You speake not as you thinke; it cannot be

   Hel. Loe, she is one of this confederacy,
Now I perceiue they haue conioyn'd all three,
To fashion this false sport in spight of me.
Iniurous Hermia, most vngratefull maid,
Haue you conspir'd, haue you with these contriu'd
To baite me, with this foule derision?
Is all the counsell that we two haue shar'd,
The sisters vowes, the houres that we haue spent,
When wee haue chid the hasty footed time,
For parting vs; O, is all forgot?
All schooledaies friendship, child-hood innocence?
We Hermia, like two Artificiall gods,
Haue with our needles, created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key:
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and mindes
Had beene incorporate. So we grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet a vnion in partition,
Two louely berries molded on one stem,
So with two seeming bodies, but one heart,
Two of the first life coats in Heraldry,
Due but to one and crowned with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient loue asunder,
To ioyne with men in scorning your poore friend?
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly.
Our sexe as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone doe feele the iniurie

   Her. I am amazed at your passionate words,
I scorne you not; It seemes that you scorne me

   Hel. Haue you not set Lysander, as in scorne
To follow me, and praise my eies and face?
And made your other loue, Demetrius
(Who euen but now did spurne me with his foote)
To call me goddesse, nimph, diuine, and rare,
Precious, celestiall? Wherefore speakes he this
To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander
Denie your loue (so rich within his soule)
And tender me (forsooth) affection,
But by your setting on, by your consent?
What though I be not so in grace as you,
So hung vpon with loue, so fortunate?
(But miserable most, to loue vnlou'd)
This you should pittie, rather then despise

   Her. I vnderstand not what you meane by this

   Hel. I, doe, perseuer, counterfeit sad lookes,
Make mouthes vpon me when I turne my backe,
Winke each at other, hold the sweete iest vp:
This sport well carried, shall be chronicled.
If you haue any pittie, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument:
But fare ye well, 'tis partly mine owne fault,
Which death or absence soone shall remedie

   Lys. Stay gentle Helena, heare my excuse,
My loue, my life, my soule, faire Helena

   Hel. O excellent!
  Her. Sweete, do not scorne her so

   Dem. If she cannot entreate, I can compell

   Lys. Thou canst compell, no more then she entreate.
Thy threats haue no more strength then her weak praise.
Helen, I loue thee, by my life I doe;
I sweare by that which I will lose for thee,
To proue him false, that saies I loue thee not

   Dem. I say, I loue thee more then he can do

   Lys. If thou say so, withdraw and proue it too

   Dem. Quick, come

   Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this?
  Lys. Away, you Ethiope

   Dem. No, no, Sir, seeme to breake loose;
Take on as you would follow,
But yet come not: you are a tame man, go

   Lys. Hang off thou cat, thou bur; vile thing let loose,
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent

   Her. Why are you growne so rude?
What change is this sweete Loue?
  Lys. Thy loue? out tawny Tartar, out;
Out loathed medicine; O hated poison hence

   Her. Do you not iest?
  Hel. Yes sooth, and so do you

   Lys. Demetrius: I will keepe my word with thee

   Dem. I would I had your bond: for I perceiue
A weake bond holds you; Ile not trust your word

   Lys. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?
Although I hate her, Ile not harme her so

   Her. What, can you do me greater harme then hate?
Hate me, wherefore? O me, what newes my Loue?
Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander?
I am as faire now, as I was ere while.
Since night you lou'd me: yet since night you left me.
Why then you left me (O the gods forbid)
In earnest, shall I say?
  Lys. I, by my life;
And neuer did desire to see thee more.
Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt;
Be certaine, nothing truer: 'tis no iest,
That I do hate thee, and loue Helena

   Her. O me, you iugler, you canker blossome,
You theefe of loue; What, haue you come by night,
And stolne my loues heart from him?
  Hel. Fine yfaith:
Haue you no modesty, no maiden shame,
No touch of bashfulnesse? What, will you teare
Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?
Fie, fie, you counterfeit, you puppet, you

   Her. Puppet? why so? I, that way goes the game.
Now I perceiue that she hath made compare
Betweene our statures, she hath vrg'd her height,
And with her personage, her tall personage,
Her height (forsooth) she hath preuail'd with him.
And are you growne so high in his esteeme,
Because I am so dwarfish, and so low?
How low am I, thou painted May-pole? Speake,
How low am I? I am not yet so low,
But that my nailes can reach vnto thine eyes

   Hel. I pray you though you mocke me, gentlemen,
Let her not hurt me; I was neuer curst:
I haue no gift at all in shrewishnesse;
I am a right maide for my cowardize;
Let her not strike me: you perhaps may thinke,
Because she is something lower then my selfe,
That I can match her

   Her. Lower? harke againe

   Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me,
I euermore did loue you Hermia,
Did euer keepe your counsels, neuer wronged you,
Saue that in loue vnto Demetrius,
I told him of your stealth vnto this wood.
He followed you, for loue I followed him,
But he hath chid me hence, and threatned me
To strike me, spurne me, nay to kill me too;
And now, so you will let me quiet go,
To Athens will I beare my folly backe,
And follow you no further. Let me go.
You see how simple, and how fond I am

   Her. Why get you gone: who ist that hinders you?
  Hel. A foolish heart, that I leaue here behinde

   Her. What, with Lysander?
  Her. With Demetrius

   Lys. Be not afraid, she shall not harme thee Helena

   Dem. No sir, she shall not, though you take her part

   Hel. O when she's angry, she is keene and shrewd,
She was a vixen when she went to schoole,
And though she be but little, she is fierce

   Her. Little againe? Nothing but low and little?
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
Let me come to her

   Lys. Get you gone you dwarfe,
You minimus, of hindring knot-grasse made,
You bead, you acorne

   Dem. You are too officious,
In her behalfe that scornes your seruices.
Let her alone, speake not of Helena,
Take not her part. For if thou dost intend
Neuer so little shew of loue to her,
Thou shalt abide it

   Lys. Now she holds me not,
Now follow if thou dar'st, to try whose right,
Of thine or mine is most in Helena

   Dem. Follow? Nay, Ile goe with thee cheeke by
iowle.

Exit Lysander and Demetrius.

  Her. You Mistris, all this coyle is long of you.
Nay, goe not backe

   Hel. I will not trust you I,
Nor longer stay in your curst companie.
Your hands then mine, are quicker for a fray,
My legs are longer though to runne away.
Enter Oberon and Pucke.

  Ob. This is thy negligence, still thou mistak'st,
Or else committ'st thy knaueries willingly

   Puck. Beleeue me, King of shadowes, I mistooke,
Did not you tell me, I should know the man,
By the Athenian garments he hath on?
And so farre blamelesse proues my enterprize,
That I haue nointed an Athenians eies,
And so farre am I glad, it so did sort,
As this their iangling I esteeme a sport

   Ob. Thou seest these Louers seeke a place to fight,
Hie therefore Robin, ouercast the night,
The starrie Welkin couer thou anon,
With drooping fogge as blacke as Acheron,
And lead these testie Riuals so astray,
As one come not within anothers way.
Like to Lysander, sometime frame thy tongue,
Then stirre Demetrius vp with bitter wrong;
And sometime raile thou like Demetrius;
And from each other looke thou leade them thus,
Till ore their browes, death-counterfeiting, sleepe
With leaden legs, and Battie-wings doth creepe:
Then crush this hearbe into Lysanders eie,
Whose liquor hath this vertuous propertie,
To take from thence all error, with his might,
and make his eie-bals role with wonted sight.
When they next wake, all this derision
Shall seeme a dreame, and fruitless vision,
And backe to Athens shall the Louers wend
With league, whose date till death shall neuer end.
Whiles I in this affaire do thee imploy,
Ile to my Queene, and beg her Indian Boy;
And then I will her charmed eie release
From monsters view, and all things shall be peace

   Puck. My Fairie Lord, this must be done with haste,
For night-swift Dragons cut the Clouds full fast,
And yonder shines Auroras harbinger;
At whose approach Ghosts wandring here and there,
Troope home to Church-yards; damned spirits all,
That in crosse-waies and flouds haue buriall,
Alreadie to their wormie beds are gone;
For feare least day should looke their shames vpon,
They wilfully themselues exile from light,
And must for aye consort with blacke browd night

   Ob. But we are spirits of another sort:
I, with the mornings loue haue oft made sport,
And like a Forrester, the groues may tread,
Euen till the Easterne gate all fierie red,
Opening on Neptune, With faire blessed beames,
Turnes into yellow gold, his salt greene streames.
But not withstanding haste, make no delay:
We may effect this businesse, yet ere day

   Puck. Vp and downe, vp and downe, I will leade
them vp and downe: I am fear'd in field and towne.
Goblin, lead them vp and downe: here comes one.
Enter Lysander.

  Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius?
Speake thou now

   Rob. Here villaine, drawne & readie. Where art thou?
  Lys. I will be with thee straight

   Rob. Follow me then to plainer ground.
Enter Demetrius.

  Dem. Lysander, speake againe;
Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?
Speake in some bush: Where dost thou hide thy head?
  Rob. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,
And wilt not come? Come recreant, come thou childe,
Ile whip thee with a rod. He is defil'd
That drawes a sword on thee

   Dem. Yea, art thou there?
  Ro. Follow my voice, we'l try no manhood here.
Enter.

  Lys. He goes before me, and still dares me on,
When I come where he cals, then he's gone.
The Villaine is much lighter heel'd then I:
I followed fast, but faster he did flye;

shifting places.

That fallen am I in darke vneuen way,
And here wil rest me. Come thou gentle day:

lye down.

For if but once thou shew me thy gray light,
Ile finde Demetrius, and reuenge this spight.
Enter Robin and Demetrius.

  Rob. Ho, ho, ho; coward, why com'st thou not?
  Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'st. For well I wot,
Thou runst before me, shifting euery place,
And dar'st not stand, nor looke me in the face.
Where art thou?
  Rob. Come hither, I am here

   Dem. Nay then thou mock'st me; thou shalt buy this
deere,
If euer I thy face by day-light see.
Now goe thy way: faintnesse constraineth me,
To measure out my length on this cold bed,
By daies approach looke to be visited.
Enter Helena.

  Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night,
Abate thy houres, shine comforts from the East,
That I may backe to Athens by day-light,
From these that my poore companie detest;
And sleepe that sometime shuts vp sorrowes eie,
Steale me a while from mine owne companie.

Sleepe.

  Rob. Yet but three? Come one more,
Two of both kindes makes vp foure.
Here she comes, curst and sad,
Cupid is a knauish lad,
Enter Hermia.

Thus to make poore females mad

   Her. Neuer so wearie, neuer so in woe,
Bedabbled with the dew, and torne with briars,
I can no further crawle, no further goe;
My legs can keepe no pace with my desires.
Here will I rest me till the breake of day,
Heauens shield Lysander, if they meane a fray

   Rob. On the ground sleepe sound,
Ile apply your eie gentle louer, remedy.
When thou wak'st, thou tak'st
True delight in the sight of thy former Ladies eye,
And the Country Prouerb knowne,
That euery man should take his owne,
In your waking shall be showne.
Iacke shall haue Iill, nought shall goe ill.
The man shall haue his Mare againe, and all shall bee
well.

They sleepe all the Act.


Actus Quartus.

Enter Queene of Fairies, and Clowne, and Fairies, and the King
behinde
them.

  Tita. Come, sit thee downe vpon this flowry bed,
While I thy amiable cheekes doe coy,
And sticke muske roses in thy sleeke smoothe head,
And kisse thy faire large eares, my gentle ioy

   Clow. Where's Peaseblossome?
  Peas. Ready

   Clow. Scratch my head, Pease-blossome. Wher's Mounsieuer
Cobweb

   Cob. Ready

   Clowne. Mounsieur Cobweb, good Mounsier get your
weapons in your hand, & kill me a red hipt humble-Bee,
on the top of a thistle; and good Mounsieur bring mee
the hony bag. Doe not fret your selfe too much in the
action, Mounsieur; and good mounsieur haue a care the
hony bag breake not, I would be loth to haue you ouerflowne
with a hony-bag signiour. Where's Mounsieur
Mustardseed?
  Mus. Ready

   Clo. Giue me your neafe, Mounsieur Mustardseed.
Pray you leaue your courtesie good Mounsieur

   Mus. What's your will?
  Clo. Nothing good Mounsieur, but to help Caualery
Cobweb to scratch. I must to the Barbers Mounsieur, for
me-thinkes I am maruellous hairy about the face. And I
am such a tender asse, if my haire do but tickle me, I must
scratch

   Tita. What, wilt thou heare some musicke, my sweet
loue

   Clow. I haue a reasonable good eare in musicke. Let
vs haue the tongs and the bones.

Musicke Tongs, Rurall Musicke.

  Tita. Or say sweete Loue, what thou desirest to eat

   Clowne. Truly a pecke of Prouender; I could munch
your good dry Oates. Me-thinkes I haue a great desire
to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweete hay hath no fellow

   Tita. I haue a venturous Fairy,
That shall seeke the Squirrels hoard,
And fetch thee new Nuts

   Clown. I had rather haue a handfull or two of dried
pease. But I pray you let none of your people stirre me, I
haue an exposition of sleepe come vpon me

   Tyta. Sleepe thou, and I will winde thee in my arms,
Fairies be gone, and be alwaies away.
So doth the woodbine, the sweet Honisuckle,
Gently entwist; the female Iuy so
Enrings the barky fingers of the Elme.
O how I loue thee! how I dote on thee!
Enter Robin goodfellow and Oberon.

  Ob. Welcome good Robin:
Seest thou this sweet sight?
Her dotage now I doe begin to pitty.
For meeting her of late behinde the wood,
Seeking sweet sauours for this hatefull foole,
I did vpbraid her, and fall out with her.
For she his hairy temples then had rounded,
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers.
And that same dew which somtime on the buds,
Was wont to swell like round and orient pearles;
Stood now within the pretty flouriets eyes,
Like teares that did their owne disgrace bewaile.
When I had at my pleasure taunted her,
And she in milde termes beg'd my patience,
I then did aske of her, her changeling childe,
Which straight she gaue me, and her fairy sent
To beare him to my Bower in Fairy Land.
And now I haue the Boy, I will vndoe
This hatefull imperfection of her eyes.
And gentle Pucke, take this transformed scalpe,
From off the head of this Athenian swaine;
That he awaking when the other doe,
May all to Athens backe againe repaire,
And thinke no more of this nights accidents,
But as the fierce vexation of dreame.
But first I will release the Fairy Queene.
Be thou as thou wast wont to be;
See as thou wast wont to see.
Dians bud, or Cupids flower,
Hath such force and blessed power.
Now my Titania wake you my sweet Queene

   Tita. My Oberon, what visions haue I seene!
Me-thought I was enamoured of an asse

   Ob. There lies your loue

   Tita. How came these things to passe?
Oh, how mine eyes doth loath this visage now!
  Ob. Silence a while. Robin take off his head:
Titania, musick call, and strike more dead
Then common sleepe; of all these, fine the sense

   Tita. Musicke, ho musicke, such as charmeth sleepe.

Musick still.

  Rob. When thou wak'st, with thine owne fooles eies
peepe

   Ob. Sound musick; come my Queen, take hands with me
And rocke the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I new in amity,
And will to morrow midnight, solemnly
Dance in Duke Theseus house triumphantly,
And blesse it to all faire posterity.
There shall the paires of faithfull Louers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in iollity

   Rob. Faire King attend, and marke,
I doe heare the morning Larke,
  Ob. Then my Queene in silence sad,
Trip we after the nights shade;
We the Globe can compasse soone,
Swifter then the wandering Moone

   Tita. Come my Lord, and in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night,
That I sleeping heere was found,

Sleepers Lye still.

With these mortals on the ground.

Exeunt.

Winde Hornes.

Enter Theseus, Egeus, Hippolita and all his traine.

  Thes. Goe one of you, finde out the Forrester,
For now our obseruation is perform'd;
And since we haue the vaward of the day,
My Loue shall heare the musicke of my hounds.
Vncouple in the Westerne valley, let them goe;
Dispatch I say, and finde the Forrester.
We will faire Queene, vp to the Mountains top,
And marke the musicall confusion
Of hounds and eccho in coniunction

   Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once.
When in a wood of Creete they bayed the Beare
With hounds of Sparta; neuer did I heare
Such gallant chiding. For besides the groues,
The skies, the fountaines, euery region neere,
Seeme all one mutuall cry. I neuer heard
So musicall a discord, such sweet thunder

   Thes. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kinde,
So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung
With eares that sweepe away the morning dew,
Crooke kneed, and dew-lapt, like Thessalian Buls,
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bels,
Each vnder each. A cry more tuneable
Was neuer hallowed to, nor cheer'd with horne,
In Creete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly;
Iudge when you heare. But soft, what nimphs are these?
  Egeus. My Lord, this is my daughter heere asleepe,
And this Lysander, this Demetrius is,
This Helena, olde Nedars Helena,
I wonder of this being heere together

   The. No doubt they rose vp early, to obserue
The right of May; and hearing our intent,
Came heere in grace of our solemnity.
But speake Egeus, is not this the day
That Hermia should giue answer of her choice?
  Egeus. It is, my Lord

   Thes. Goe bid the hunts-men wake them with their
hornes.

Hornes and they wake.

Shout within, they all start vp.

  Thes. Good morrow friends: Saint Valentine is past,
Begin these wood birds but to couple now?
  Lys. Pardon my Lord

   Thes. I pray you all stand vp.
I know you two are Riuall enemies.
How comes this gentle concord in the world,
That hatred is so farre from iealousie,
To sleepe by hate, and feare no enmity

   Lys. My Lord, I shall reply amazedly,
Halfe sleepe, halfe waking. but as yet, I sweare,
I cannot truly say how I came heere.
But as I thinke (for truly would I speake)
And now I doe bethinke me, so it is;
I came with Hermia hither. Our intent
Was to be gone from Athens, where we might be
Without the perill of the Athenian Law

   Ege. Enough, enough, my Lord: you haue enough;
I beg the Law, the Law, vpon his head:
They would have stolne away, they would Demetrius,
Thereby to haue defeated you and me:
You of your wife, and me of my consent;
Of my consent, that she should be your wife

   Dem. My Lord, faire Helen told me of their stealth,
Of this their purpose hither, to this wood,
And I in furie hither followed them;
Faire Helena, in fancy followed me.
But my good Lord, I wot not by what not by what power,
(But by some power it is) my loue
To Hermia (melted as the snow)
Seems to me now as the remembrance of an idle gaude,
Which in my childehood I did doat vpon:
And all the faith, the vertue of my heart,
The obiect and the pleasure of mine eye,
Is onely Helena. To her, my Lord,
Was I betroth'd, ere I see Hermia,
But like a sickenesse did I loath this food,
But as in health, come to my naturall taste,
Now doe I wish it, loue it, long for it,
And will for euermore be true to it

   Thes. Faire Louers, you are fortunately met;
Of this discourse we shall heare more anon.
Egeus, I will ouer-beare your will;
For in the Temple, by and by with vs,
These couples shall eternally be knit.
And for the morning now is something worne,
Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.
Away, with vs to Athens; three and three,
Wee'll hold a feast in great solemnitie.
Come Hippolita.

Exit Duke and Lords.

  Dem. These things seeme small & vndistinguishable,
Like farre off mountaines turned into Clouds

   Her. Me-thinks I see these things with parted eye,
When euery thing seemes double

   Hel. So me-thinkes:
And I haue found Demetrius, like a iewell,
Mine owne, and not mine owne

   Dem. It seemes to mee,
That yet we sleepe, we dreame. Do not you thinke,
The Duke was heere, and bid vs follow him?
  Her. Yea, and my Father

   Hel. And Hippolita

   Lys. And he bid vs follow to the Temple

   Dem. Why then we are awake; lets follow him, and
by the way let vs recount our dreames.

Bottome wakes.

Exit Louers.

  Clo. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer.
My next is, most faire Piramus. Hey ho. Peter Quince?
Flute the bellowes-mender? Snout the tinker? Starueling?
Gods my life! Stolne hence, and left me asleepe: I
haue had a most rare vision. I had a dreame, past the wit
of man, to say, what dreame it was. Man is but an Asse,
if he goe about to expound this dreame. Me-thought I
was, there is no man can tell what. Me-thought I was,
and me-thought I had. But man is but a patch'd foole,
if he will offer to say, what me-thought I had. The eye of
man hath not heard, the eare of man hath not seen, mans
hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceiue, nor his
heart to report, what my dreame was. I will get Peter
Quince to write a ballet of this dreame, it shall be called
Bottomes Dreame, because it hath no bottome; and I will
sing it in the latter end of a play, before the Duke. Peraduenture,
to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it
at her death.
Enter.

Enter Quince, Flute, Thisbie, Snout, and Starueling.

  Quin. Haue you sent to Bottomes house? Is he come
home yet?
  Staru. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt hee is
transported

   This. If he come not, then the play is mar'd. It goes
not forward, doth it?
  Quin. It is not possible: you haue not a man in all
Athens, able to discharge Piramus but he

   This. No, hee hath simply the best wit of any handycraft
man in Athens

   Quin. Yea, and the best person too, and hee is a very
Paramour, for a sweet voyce

   This. You must say, Paragon. A Paramour is (God
blesse vs) a thing of nought.
Enter Snug the Ioyner.

  Snug. Masters, the Duke is comming from the Temple,
and there is two or three Lords & Ladies more married.
If our sport had gone forward, we had all bin made
men

   This. O sweet bully Bottome: thus hath he lost sixepence
a day, during his life; he could not haue scaped sixpence
a day. And the Duke had not giuen him sixpence
a day for playing Piramus, Ile be hang'd. He would haue
deserued it. Sixpence a day in Piramus, or nothing.
Enter Bottome.

  Bot. Where are these Lads? Where are these hearts?
  Quin. Bottome, o most couragious day! O most happie
houre!
  Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask me
not what. For if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I
will tell you euery thing as it fell out

   Qu. Let vs heare, sweet Bottome

   Bot. Not a word of me: all that I will tell you, is, that
the Duke hath dined. Get your apparell together, good
strings to your beards, new ribbands to your pumps,
meete presently at the Palace, euery man looke ore his
part: for the short and the long is, our play is preferred:
In any case let Thisby haue cleane linnen: and let not him
that playes the Lion, paire his nailes, for they shall hang
out for the Lions clawes. And most deare Actors, eate
no Onions, nor Garlicke; for wee are to vtter sweete
breath, and I doe not doubt but to heare them say, it is a
sweet Comedy. No more words: away, go away.

Exeunt.


Actus Quintus.

Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Egeus and his Lords.

  Hip. 'Tis strange my Theseus, y these louers speake of

   The. More strange then true. I neuer may beleeue
These anticke fables, nor these Fairy toyes,
Louers and mad men haue such seething braines,
Such shaping phantasies, that apprehend more
Then coole reason euer comprehends.
The Lunaticke, the Louer, and the Poet,
Are of imagination all compact.
One sees more diuels then vaste hell can hold;
That is the mad man. The Louer, all as franticke,
Sees Helens beauty in a brow of Egipt.
The Poets eye in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance
From heauen to earth, from earth to heauen.
And as imagination bodies forth the forms of things
Vnknowne; the Poets pen turnes them to shapes,
And giues to aire nothing, a locall habitation,
And a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend some ioy,
It comprehends some bringer of that ioy.
Or in the night, imagining some feare,
Howe easie is a bush suppos'd a Beare?
  Hip. But all the storie of the night told ouer,
And all their minds transfigur'd so together,
More witnesseth than fancies images,
And growes to something of great constancie;
But howsoeuer, strange, and admirable.
Enter louers, Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena.

  The. Heere come the louers, full of ioy and mirth:
Ioy, gentle friends, ioy and fresh dayes
Of loue accompany your hearts

   Lys. More then to vs, waite in your royall walkes,
your boord, your bed

   The. Come now, what maskes, what dances shall
we haue,
To weare away this long age of three houres,
Between our after supper, and bed-time?
Where is our vsuall manager of mirth?
What Reuels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing houre?
Call Egeus

   Ege. Heere mighty Theseus

   The. Say, what abridgement haue you for this euening?
What maske? What musicke? How shall we beguile
The lazie time, if not with some delight?
  Ege. There is a breefe how many sports are rife:
Make choise of which your Highnesse will see first

   Lis. The battell with the Centaurs to be sung
By an Athenian Eunuch, to the Harpe

   The. Wee'l none of that. That haue I told my Loue
In glory of my kinsman Hercules

   Lis. The riot of the tipsie Bachanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer, in their rage?
  The. That is an old deuice, and it was plaid
When I from Thebes came last a Conqueror

   Lis. The thrice three Muses, mourning for the death
of learning, late deceast in beggerie

   The. That is some Satire keene and criticall,
Not sorting with a nuptiall ceremonie

   Lis. A tedious breefe Scene of yong Piramus,
And his loue Thisby; very tragicall mirth

   The. Merry and tragicall? Tedious, and briefe? That
is, hot ice, and wondrous strange snow. How shall wee
finde the concord of this discord?
  Ege. A play there is, my Lord, some ten words long,
Which is as breefe, as I haue knowne a play;
But by ten words, my Lord, it is too long;
Which makes it tedious. For in all the play,
There is not one word apt, one Player fitted.
And tragicall my noble Lord it is: for Piramus
Therein doth kill himselfe. Which when I saw
Rehearst, I must confesse, made mine eyes water:
But more merrie teares, the passion of loud laughter
Neuer shed

   Thes. What are they that do play it?
  Ege. Hard handed men, that worke in Athens heere,
Which neuer labour'd in their mindes till now;
And now haue toyled their vnbreathed memories
With this same play, against your nuptiall

   The. And we will heare it

   Hip. No my noble Lord, it is not for you. I haue heard
It ouer, and it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Vnless you can finde sport in their intents,
Extreamely stretched, and cond with cruell paine,
To doe you seruice

   Thes. I will heare that play. For neuer any thing
Can be amisse, when simplenesse and duty tender it.
Goe bring them in, and take your places, Ladies

   Hip. I loue not to see wretchednesse orecharged;
And duty in his seruice perishing

   Thes. Why gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing

   Hip. He saies, they can doe nothing in this kinde

   Thes. The kinder we, to giue them thanks for nothing
Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake;
And what poore duty cannot doe, noble respect
Takes it in might, not merit.
Where I haue come, great Clearkes haue purposed
To greete me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I haue seene them shiuer and looke pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practiz'd accent in their feares,
And in conclusion, dumbly haue broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me sweete,
Out of this silence yet, I pickt a welcome:
And in the modesty of fearefull duty,
I read as much, as from the ratling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Loue therefore, and tongue-tide simplicity,
In least, speake most, to my capacity

   Egeus. So please your Grace, the Prologue is addrest

   Duke. Let him approach.

Flor. Trum.

Enter the Prologue. Quince.

  Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you should thinke, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To shew our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then, we come but in despight.
We do not come, as minding to content you,
Our true intent is. All for your delight,
We are not heere. That you should here repent you,
The Actors are at hand; and by their show,
You shall know all, that you are like to know

   Thes. This fellow doth not stand vpon points

   Lys. He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he
knowes not the stop. A good morall my lord. it is not
enough to speake, but to speake true

   Hip. Indeed hee hath plaid on his Prologue, like a
childe on a Recorder, a sound, but not in gouernment

   Thes. His speech was like a tangled chaine: nothing
impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?

Tawyer with a Trumpet before them.

Enter Pyramus and Thisby, Wall, Moone-shine, and Lyon.

  Prol. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show,
But wonder on, till truth make all things plaine.
This man is Piramus, if you would know;
This beauteous Lady, Thisby is certaine.
This man, with lyme and rough-cast, doth present
Wall, that vile wall, which did these louers sunder:
And through walls chink (poor soules) they are content
To whisper. At the which, let no man wonder.
This man, with Lanthorne, dog, and bush of thorne,
Presenteth moone-shine. For if you will know,
By moone-shine did these Louers thinke no scorne
To meet at Ninus toombe, there, there to wooe:
This grizly beast (which Lyon hight by name)
The trusty Thisby, comming first by night,
Did scarre away, or rather did affright:
And as she fled, her mantle she did fall;
Which Lyon vile with bloody mouth did staine.
Anon comes Piramus, sweet youth and tall,
And findes his Thisbies Mantle slaine;
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blamefull blade,
He brauely broacht his boiling bloudy breast,
And Thisby, tarrying in Mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
Let Lyon, Moone-shine, Wall, and Louers twaine,
At large discourse, while here they doe remaine.

Exit all but Wall.

  Thes. I wonder if the Lion be to speake

   Deme. No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when
many Asses doe.

Exit Lyon, Thisbie, and Mooneshine.

  Wall. In this same Interlude, it doth befall,
That I, one Snowt (by name) present a wall:
And such a wall, as I would haue you thinke,
That had in it a crannied hole or chinke:
Through which the Louers, Piramus and Thisbie
Did whisper often, very secretly.
This loame, this rough-cast, and this stone doth shew,
That I am that same Wall; the truth is so.
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearfull Louers are to whisper

   Thes. Would you desire Lime and Haire to speake
better?
  Deme. It is the wittiest partition, that euer I heard
discourse, my Lord

   Thes. Pyramus drawes neere the Wall, silence.
Enter Pyramus.

  Pir. O grim lookt night, o night with hue so blacke,
O night, which euer art, when day is not:
O night, o night, alacke, alacke, alacke,
I feare my Thisbies promise is forgot.
And thou o wall, thou sweet and louely wall,
That stands between her fathers ground and mine,
Thou wall, o Wall, o sweet and louely wall,
Shew me thy chinke, to blinke through with mine eine.
Thankes courteous wall. Ioue shield thee well for this.
But what see I? No Thisbie doe I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no blisse,
Curst be thy stones for thus deceiuing mee

   Thes. The wall me-thinkes being sensible, should
curse againe

   Pir. No in truth sir, he should not. Deceiuing me,
Is Thisbies cue; she is to enter, and I am to spy
Her through the wall. You shall see it will fall.
Enter Thisbie.

Pat as I told you; yonder she comes

   This. O wall, full often hast thou heard my mones,
For parting my faire Piramus, and me
My cherry lips haue often kist thy stones;
Thy stones with Lime and Haire knit vp in thee

   Pyra. I see a voyce; now will I to the chinke,
To spy and I can heare my Thisbies face. Thisbie?
  This. My Loue thou art, my Loue I thinke

   Pir. Thinke what thou wilt, I am thy Louers grace,
And like Limander am I trusty still

   This. And like Helen till the Fates me kill

   Pir. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true

   This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you

   Pir. O kisse me through the hole of this vile wall

   This. I kisse the wals hole, not your lips at all

   Pir. Wilt thou at Ninnies tombe meete me straight
way?
  This. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay

   Wall. Thus haue I Wall, my part discharged so;
And being done, thus Wall away doth go.

Exit Clow.

  Du. Now is the morall downe between the two
Neighbours

   Dem. No remedie my Lord, when Wals are so wilfull,
to heare without warning

   Dut. This is the silliest stuffe that ere I heard

   Du. The best in this kind are but shadowes, and the
worst are no worse, if imagination amend them

   Dut. It must be your imagination then, & not theirs

   Duk. If wee imagine no worse of them then they of
themselues, they may passe for excellent men. Here com
two noble beasts, in a man and a Lion.
Enter Lyon and Moone-shine

   Lyon. You Ladies, you (whose gentle harts do feare
The smallest monstrous mouse that creepes on floore)
May now perchance, both quake and tremble heere,
When Lion rough in wildest rage doth roare.
Then know that I, one Snug the Ioyner am
A Lion fell, nor else no Lions dam:
For if I should as Lion come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pittie of my life

   Du. A verie gentle beast, and of good conscience

   Dem. The verie best at a beast, my Lord, y ere I saw

   Lis. This Lion is a verie Fox for his valor

   Du. True, and a Goose for his discretion

   Dem. Not so my Lord: for his valor cannot carrie
his discretion, and the fox carries the Goose

   Du. His discretion I am sure cannot carrie his valor:
for the Goose carries not the Fox. It is well; leaue it to
his discretion, and let vs hearken to the Moone

   Moone. This Lanthorne doth the horned Moone present

   De. He should haue worne the hornes on his head

   Du. Hee is no crescent, and his hornes are inuisible,
within the circumference

   Moon. This lanthorne doth the horned Moone present:
My selfe, the man i'th Moone doth seeme to be

   Du. This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man
Should be put into the Lanthorne. How is it els the man
i'th Moone?
  Dem. He dares not come there for the candle.
For you see, it is already in snuffe

   Dut. I am wearie of this Moone; would he would
change

   Du. It appeares by his smal light of discretion, that
he is in the wane: but yet in courtesie, in all reason, we
must stay the time

   Lys. Proceed Moone

   Moon. All that I haue to say, is to tell you, that the
Lanthorne is the Moone; I, the man in the Moone; this
thorne bush; my thorne bush; and this dog, my dog

   Dem. Why all these should be in the Lanthorne: for
they are in the Moone. But silence, heere comes Thisby.
Enter Thisby.

  This. This is old Ninnies tombe: where is my loue?
  Lyon. Oh.

The Lion roares, Thisby runs off.

  Dem. Well roar'd Lion

   Du. Well run Thisby

   Dut. Well shone Moone.
Truly the Moone shines with a good grace

   Du. Wel mouz'd Lion

   Dem. And then came Piramus

   Lys. And so the Lion vanisht.
Enter Piramus.

  Pyr. Sweet Moone, I thank thee for thy sunny beames,
I thanke thee Moone, for shining now so bright:
For by thy gracious, golden, glittering beames,
I trust to taste of truest Thisbies sight.
But stay: O spight! but marke, poore Knight,
What dreadful dole is heere?
Eyes do you see! How can it be!
O dainty Ducke: O Deere!
Thy mantle good; what staind with blood!
Approch you furies fell:
O Fates! come, come: Cut thred and thrum,
Quaile, crush, conclude, and quell

   Du. This passion, and the death of a deare friend,
Would go neere to make a man looke sad

   Dut. Beshrew my heart, but I pittie the man

   Pir. O wherefore Nature, did'st thou Lions frame?
Since lion vilde hath heere deflour'd my deere:
Which is: no, no, which was the fairest Dame
That liu'd, that lou'd, that like'd, that look'd with cheere.
Come teares, confound: Out sword, and wound
The pap of Piramus:
I, that left pap, where heart doth hop;
Thus dye I, thus, thus, thus.
Now am I dead, now am I fled, my soule is in the sky,
Tongue lose thy light, Moone take thy flight,
Now dye, dye, dye, dye, dye

   Dem. No Die, but an ace for him; for he is but one

   Lis. Lesse then an ace man. For he is dead, he is nothing

   Du. With the helpe of a Surgeon, he might yet recouer,
and proue an Asse

   Dut. How chance Moone-shine is gone before?
Thisby comes backe, and findes her Louer.
Enter Thisby.

  Duke. She wil finde him by starre-light.
Heere she comes, and her passion ends the play

   Dut. Me thinkes shee should not vse a long one for
such a Piramus: I hope she will be breefe

   Dem. A Moth wil turne the ballance, which Piramus
which Thisby is the better

   Lys. She hath spyed him already, with those sweete eyes

   Dem. And thus she meanes, videlicit

   This. Asleepe my Loue? What, dead my Doue?
O Piramus arise:
Speake, speake. Quite dumbe? Dead, dead? A tombe
Must couer thy sweet eyes.
These Lilly Lips, this cherry nose,
These yellow Cowslip cheekes
Are gone, are gone: Louers make mone:
His eyes were greene as Leekes.
O Sisters three, come, come to mee,
With hands as pale as Milke,
Lay them in gore, since you haue shore
with sheeres, his thred of silke.
Tongue not a word: Come trusty sword:
Come blade, my brest imbrue:
And farwell friends, thus Thisbie ends;
Adieu, adieu, adieu

   Duk. Moone-shine & Lion are left to burie the dead

   Deme. I, and Wall too

   Bot. No, I assure you, the wall is downe, that parted
their Fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or
to heare a Bergomask dance, betweene two of our company?
  Duk. No Epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs
no excuse. Neuer excuse; for when the plaiers are all
dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if hee that
writ it had plaid Piramus, and hung himselfe in Thisbies
garter, it would haue beene a fine Tragedy: and so it is
truely, and very notably discharg'd. but come, your
Burgomaske; let your Epilogue alone.
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelue.
Louers to bed, 'tis almost Fairy time.
I feare we shall out-sleepe the comming morne,
As much as we this night haue ouer-watcht.
This palpable grosse play hath well beguil'd
The heauy gate of night. Sweet friends to bed.
A fortnight hold we this solemnity.
In nightly Reuels; and new iollitie.

Exeunt.

Enter Pucke.

  Puck. Now the hungry Lyons rores,
And the Wolfe beholds the Moone:
Whilest the heauy ploughman snores,
All with weary taske fore-done.
Now the wasted brands doe glow,
Whil'st the scritch-owle, scritching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a shrowd.
Now it is the time of night,
That the graues, all gaping wide,
Euery one lets forth his spright,
In the Church-way paths to glide,
And we Fairies, that do runne,
By the triple Hecates teame,
From the presence of the Sunne,
Following darkenesse like a dreame,
Now are frollicke; not a Mouse
Shall disturbe this hallowed house.
I am sent with broome before,
To sweep the dust behinde the doore.
Enter King and Queene of Fairies, with their traine.

  Ob. Through the house giue glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsie fier,
Euerie Elfe and Fairie spright,
Hop as light as bird from brier,
And this Ditty after me, sing and dance it trippinglie,
  Tita. First rehearse this song by roate,
To each word a warbling note.
Hand in hand, with Fairie grace,
Will we sing and blesse this place.

The Song.

Now vntill the breake of day,
Through this house each Fairy stray.
To the best Bride-bed will we,
Which by vs shall blessed be:
And the issue there create,
Euer shall be fortunate:
So shall all the couples three,
Euer true in louing be:
And the blots of Natures hand,
Shall not in their issue stand.
Neuer mole, harelip, nor scarre,
nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in Natiuitie,
Shall vpon their children be.
With this field dew consecrate,
Euery Fairy take his gate,
And each seuerall chamber blesse,
Through this Pallace with sweet peace,
Euer shall in safety rest.
And the owner of it blest.
Trip away, make no stay;
Meet me all by breake of day

   Robin. If we shadowes haue offended,
Thinke but this (and all is mended)
That you haue but slumbred heere,
While these Visions did appeare.
And this weake and idle theame,
No more yeelding but a dreame,
Gentles, doe not reprehend.
If you pardon, we will mend.
And as I am an honest Pucke,
If we haue vnearned lucke,
Now to scape the Serpents tongue,
We will make amends ere long:
Else the Pucke a lyar call.
So good night vnto you all.
Giue me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

FINIS. A MIDSOMMER Nights Dreame.


The Merchant of Venice

Actus primus.

Enter Anthonio, Salarino, and Salanio.

  Anthonio. In sooth I know not why I am so sad,
It wearies me: you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuffe 'tis made of, whereof it is borne,
I am to learne: and such a Want-wit sadnesse makes of
mee,
That I haue much ado to know my selfe

   Sal. Your minde is tossing on the Ocean,
There where your Argosies with portly saile
Like Signiors and rich Burgers on the flood,
Or as it were the Pageants of the sea,
Do ouer-peere the pettie Traffiquers
That curtsie to them, do them reuerence
As they flye by them with their wouen wings

   Salar. Beleeue me sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections, would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grasse to know where sits the winde,
Peering in Maps for ports, and peers, and rodes:
And euery obiect that might make me feare
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
Would make me sad

   Sal. My winde cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought
What harme a winde too great might doe at sea.
I should not see the sandie houre-glasse runne,
But I should thinke of shallows, and of flats,
And see my wealthy Andrew docks in sand,
Vailing her high top lower then her ribs
To kisse her buriall; should I goe to Church
And see the holy edifice of stone,
And not bethinke me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which touching but my gentle Vessels side
Would scatter all her spices on the streame,
Enrobe the roring waters with my silkes,
And in a word, but euen now worth this,
And now worth nothing. Shall I haue the thought
To thinke on this, and shall I lacke the thought
That such a thing bechaunc'd would make me sad?
But tell me, I know Anthonio
Is sad to thinke vpon his merchandize

   Anth. Beleeue me no, I thanke my fortune for it,
My ventures are not in one bottome trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Vpon the fortune of this present yeere:
Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad

   Sola. Why then you are in loue

   Anth. Fie, fie

   Sola. Not in loue neither: then let vs say you are sad
Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easie
For you to laugh and leape, and say you are merry
Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Ianus,
Nature hath fram'd strange fellowes in her time:
Some that will euermore peepe through their eyes,
And laugh like Parrats at a bag-piper.
And other of such vineger aspect,
That they'll not shew their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor sweare the iest be laughable.
Enter Bassanio, Lorenso, and Gratiano.

  Sola. Heere comes Bassanio,
Your most noble Kinsman,
Gratiano, and Lorenso. Faryewell,
We leaue you now with better company

   Sala. I would haue staid till I had made you merry,
If worthier friends had not preuented me

   Ant. Your worth is very deere in my regard.
I take it your owne busines calls on you,
And you embrace th' occasion to depart

   Sal. Good morrow my good Lords

   Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when?
You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?
  Sal. Wee'll make our leysures to attend on yours.

Exeunt. Salarino, and Solanio.

  Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you haue found Anthonio
We two will leaue you, but at dinner time
I pray you haue in minde where we must meete

   Bass. I will not faile you

   Grat. You looke not well signior Anthonio,
You haue too much respect vpon the world:
They loose it that doe buy it with much care,
Beleeue me you are maruellously chang'd

   Ant. I hold the world but as the world Gratiano,
A stage, where euery man must play a part,
And mine a sad one

   Grati. Let me play the foole,
With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come,
And let my Liuer rather heate with wine,
Then my heart coole with mortifying grones.
Why should a man whose bloud is warme within,
Sit like his Grandsire, cut in Alablaster?
Sleepe when he wakes? and creep into the Iaundies
By being peeuish? I tell thee what Anthonio,
I loue thee, and it is my loue that speakes:
There are a sort of men, whose visages
Do creame and mantle like a standing pond,
And do a wilfull stilnesse entertaine,
With purpose to be drest in an opinion
Of wisedome, grauity, profound conceit,
As who should say, I am sir an Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dogge barke.
O my Anthonio, I do know of these
That therefore onely are reputed wise,
For saying nothing; when I am verie sure
If they should speake, would almost dam those eares
Which hearing them would call their brothers fooles:
Ile tell thee more of this another time.
But fish not with this melancholly baite
For this foole Gudgin, this opinion:
Come good Lorenzo, faryewell a while,
Ile end my exhortation after dinner

   Lor. Well, we will leaue you then till dinner time.
I must be one of these same dumbe wise men.
For Gratiano neuer let's me speake

   Gra. Well, keepe me company but two yeares mo,
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine owne tongue

   Ant. Far you well, Ile grow a talker for this geare

   Gra. Thankes ifaith, for silence is onely commendable
In a neats tongue dri'd, and a maid not vendible.
Enter.

  Ant. It is that any thing now

   Bas. Gratiano speakes an infinite deale of nothing,
more then any man in all Venice, his reasons are two
graines of wheate hid in two bushels of chaffe: you shall
seeke all day ere you finde them, & when you haue them
they are not worth the search

   An. Well: tel me now, what Lady is the same
To whom you swore a secret Pilgrimage
That you to day promis'd to tel me of?
  Bas. Tis not vnknowne to you Anthonio
How much I haue disabled mine estate,
By something shewing a more swelling port
Then my faint meanes would grant continuance:
Nor do I now make mone to be abridg'd
From such a noble rate, but my cheefe care
Is to come fairely off from the great debts
Wherein my time something too prodigall
Hath left me gag'd: to you Anthonio
I owe the most in money, and in loue,
And from your loue I haue a warrantie
To vnburthen all my plots and purposes,
How to get cleere of all the debts I owe

   An. I pray you good Bassanio let me know it,
And if it stand as you your selfe still do,
Within the eye of honour, be assur'd
My purse, my person, my extreamest meanes
Lye all vnlock'd to your occasions

   Bass. In my schoole dayes, when I had lost one shaft
I shot his fellow of the selfesame flight
The selfesame way, with more aduised watch
To finde the other forth, and by aduenturing both,
I oft found both. I vrge this child-hoode proofe,
Because what followes is pure innocence.
I owe you much, and like a wilfull youth,
That which I owe is lost: but if you please
To shoote another arrow that selfe way
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the ayme: Or to finde both,
Or bring your latter hazard backe againe,
And thankfully rest debter for the first

   An. You know me well, and herein spend but time
To winde about my loue with circumstance,
And out of doubt you doe more wrong
In making question of my vttermost
Then if you had made waste of all I haue:
Then doe but say to me what I should doe
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am prest vnto it: therefore speake

   Bass. In Belmont is a Lady richly left,
And she is faire, and fairer then that word,
Of wondrous vertues, sometimes from her eyes
I did receiue faire speechlesse messages:
Her name is Portia, nothing vndervallewd
To Cato's daughter, Brutus Portia,
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,
For the four windes blow in from euery coast
Renowned sutors, and her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,
Which makes her seat of Belmont Cholchos strond,
And many Iasons come in quest of her.
O my Anthonio, had I but the meanes
To hold a riuall place with one of them,
I haue a minde presages me such thrift,
That I should questionlesse be fortunate

   Anth. Thou knowst that all my fortunes are at sea,
Neither haue I money, nor commodity
To raise a present summe, therefore goe forth
Try what my credit can in Venice doe,
That shall be rackt euen to the vttermost,
To furnish thee to Belmont to faire Portia.
Goe presently enquire, and so will I
Where money is, and I no question make
To haue it of my trust, or for my sake.

Exeunt.

Enter Portia with her waiting woman Nerissa.

  Portia. By my troth Nerrissa, my little body is a wearie
of this great world

   Ner. You would be sweet Madam, if your miseries
were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are:
and yet for ought I see, they are as sicke that surfet with
too much, as they that starue with nothing; it is no smal
happinesse therefore to bee seated in the meane, superfluitie
comes sooner by white haires, but competencie
liues longer

   Portia. Good sentences, and well pronounc'd

   Ner. They would be better if well followed

   Portia. If to doe were as easie as to know what were
good to doe, Chappels had beene Churches, and poore
mens cottages Princes Pallaces: it is a good Diuine that
followes his owne instructions; I can easier teach twentie
what were good to be done, then be one of the twentie
to follow mine owne teaching: the braine may deuise
lawes for the blood, but a hot temper leapes ore a
colde decree, such a hare is madnesse the youth, to skip
ore the meshes of good counsaile the cripple; but this
reason is not in fashion to choose me a husband: O mee,
the word choose, I may neither choose whom I would,
nor refuse whom I dislike, so is the wil of a liuing daughter
curb'd by the will of a dead father: it is not hard Nerrissa,
that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none

   Ner. Your father was euer vertuous, and holy men
at their death haue good inspirations, therefore the lotterie
that hee hath deuised in these three chests of gold,
siluer, and leade, whereof who chooses his meaning,
chooses you, wil no doubt neuer be chosen by any rightly,
but one who you shall rightly loue: but what warmth
is there in your affection towards any of these Princely
suters that are already come?
  Por. I pray thee ouer-name them, and as thou namest
them, I will describe them, and according to my description
leuell at my affection

   Ner. First there is the Neopolitane Prince

   Por. I that's a colt indeede, for he doth nothing but
talke of his horse, and hee makes it a great appropriation
to his owne good parts that he can shoo him himselfe:
I am much afraid my Ladie his mother plaid false
with a Smyth

   Ner. Than is there the Countie Palentine

   Por. He doth nothing but frowne (as who should
say, and you will not haue me, choose: he heares merrie
tales and smiles not, I feare hee will proue the weeping
Phylosopher when he growes old, being so full of vnmannerly
sadnesse in his youth.) I had rather to be married
to a deaths head with a bone in his mouth, then to either
of these: God defend me from these two

   Ner. How say you by the French Lord, Mounsier
Le Boune?
  Por. God made him, and therefore let him passe for a
man, in truth I know it is a sinne to be a mocker, but he,
why he hath a horse better then the Neopolitans, a better
bad habite of frowning then the Count Palentine, he
is euery man in no man, if a Trassell sing, he fals straight
a capring, he will fence with his owne shadow. If I should
marry him, I should marry twentie husbands: if hee
would despise me, I would forgiue him, for if he loue me
to madnesse, I should neuer requite him

   Ner. What say you then to Fauconbridge, the yong
Baron of England?
  Por. You know I say nothing to him, for hee vnderstands
not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latine, French,
nor Italian, and you will come into the Court & sweare
that I haue a poore pennie-worth in the English: hee is a
proper mans picture, but alas who can conuerse with a
dumbe show? how odly he is suited, I thinke he bought
his doublet in Italie, his round hose in France, his bonnet
in Germanie, and his behauiour euery where

   Ner. What thinke you of the other Lord his neighbour?
  Por. That he hath a neighbourly charitie in him, for
he borrowed a boxe of the eare of the Englishman, and
swore he would pay him againe when hee was able: I
thinke the Frenchman became his suretie, and seald vnder
for another

   Ner. How like you the yong Germaine, the Duke of
Saxonies Nephew?
  Por. Very vildely in the morning when hee is sober,
and most vildely in the afternoone when hee is drunke:
when he is best, he is a little worse then a man, and when
he is worst, he is little better then a beast: and the worst
fall that euer fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without
him

   Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right
Casket, you should refuse to performe your Fathers will,
if you should refuse to accept him

   Por. Therefore for feare of the worst, I pray thee set
a deepe glasse of Reinish-wine on the contrary Casket,
for if the diuell be within, and that temptation without,
I know he will choose it. I will doe any thing Nerrissa
ere I will be married to a spunge

   Ner. You neede not feare Lady the hauing any of
these Lords, they haue acquainted me with their determinations,
which is indeede to returne to their home,
and to trouble you with no more suite, vnlesse you may
be won by some other sort then your Fathers imposition,
depending on the Caskets

   Por. If I liue to be as olde as Sibilla, I will dye as
chaste as Diana: vnlesse I be obtained by the manner
of my Fathers will: I am glad this parcell of wooers
are so reasonable, for there is not one among them but
I doate on his verie absence: and I wish them a faire departure

   Ner. Doe you not remember Ladie in your Fathers
time, a Venecian, a Scholler and a Souldior that
came hither in companie of the Marquesse of Mountferrat?
  Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I thinke, so was hee
call'd

   Ner. True Madam, hee of all the men that euer my
foolish eyes look'd vpon, was the best deseruing a faire
Lady

   Por. I remember him well, and I remember him worthy
of thy praise.
Enter a Seruingman.

  Ser. The four Strangers seeke you Madam to take
their leaue: and there is a fore-runner come from a fift,
the Prince of Moroco, who brings word the Prince his
Maister will be here to night

   Por. If I could bid the fift welcome with so good
heart as I can bid the other foure farewell, I should be
glad of his approach: if he haue the condition of a Saint,
and the complexion of a diuell, I had rather hee should
shriue me then wiue me. Come Nerrissa, sirra go before;
whiles wee shut the gate vpon one wooer, another
knocks at the doore.

Exeunt.

Enter Bassanio with Shylocke the Iew.

  Shy. Three thousand ducates, well

   Bass. I sir, for three months

   Shy. For three months, well

   Bass. For the which, as I told you,
Anthonio shall be bound

   Shy. Anthonio shall become bound, well

   Bass. May you sted me? Will you pleasure me?
Shall I know your answere

   Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months,
and Anthonio bound

   Bass. Your answere to that

   Shy. Anthonio is a good man

   Bass. Haue you heard any imputation to the contrary

   Shy. Ho no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying he is a
good man, is to haue you vnderstand me that he is sufficient,
yet his meanes are in supposition: he hath an Argosie
bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies, I vnderstand
moreouer vpon the Ryalta, he hath a third at Mexico,
a fourth for England, and other ventures hee hath
squandred abroad, but ships are but boords, Saylers but
men, there be land rats, and water rats, water theeues,
and land theeues, I meane Pyrats, and then there is the
perrill of waters, windes, and rocks: the man is not withstanding
sufficient, three thousand ducats, I thinke I may
take his bond

   Bas. Be assured you may

   Iew. I will be assured I may: and that I may be assured,
I will bethinke mee, may I speake with Anthonio?
  Bass. If it please you to dine with vs

   Iew. Yes, to smell porke, to eate of the habitation
which your Prophet the Nazarite coniured the diuell
into: I will buy with you, sell with you, talke with
you, walke with you, and so following: but I will
not eate with you, drinke with you, nor pray with you.
What newes on the Ryalta, who is he comes here?
Enter Anthonio.

  Bass. This is signior Anthonio

   Iew. How like a fawning publican he lookes.
I hate him for he is a Christian:
But more, for that in low simplicitie
He lends out money gratis, and brings downe
The rate of vsance here with vs in Venice.
If I can catch him once vpon the hip,
I will feede fat the ancient grudge I beare him.
He hates our sacred Nation, and he railes
Euen there where Merchants most doe congregate
On me, my bargaines, and my well-worne thrift,
Which he cals interrest: Cursed by my Trybe
If I forgiue him

   Bass. Shylock, doe you heare

   Shy. I am debating of my present store,
And by the neere gesse of my memorie
I cannot instantly raise vp the grosse
Of full three thousand ducats: what of that?
Tuball a wealthy Hebrew of my Tribe
Will furnish me: but soft, how many months
Doe you desire? Rest you faire good signior,
Your worship was the last man in our mouthes

   Ant. Shylocke, albeit I neither lend nor borrow
By taking, nor by giuing of excesse,
Yet to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
Ile breake a custome: is he yet possest
How much he would?
  Shy. I, I, three thousand ducats

   Ant. And for three months

   Shy. I had forgot, three months, you told me so.
Well then, your bond: and let me see, but heare you,
Me thoughts you said, you neither lend nor borrow
Vpon aduantage

   Ant. I doe neuer vse it

   Shy. When Iacob graz'd his vncle Labans sheepe,
This Iacob from our holy Abram was
(As his wise mother wrought in his behalfe)
The third possesser; I, he was the third

   Ant. And what of him, did he take interrest?
  Shy. No, not take interest, not as you would say
Directly interest, marke what Iacob did,
When Laban and himselfe were compremyz'd
That all the eanelings which were streakt and pied
Should fall as Iacobs hier, the Ewes being rancke,
In end of Autumne turned to the Rammes,
And when the worke of generation was
Betweene these woolly breeders in the act,
The skilfull shepheard pil'd me certaine wands,
And in the dooing of the deede of kinde,
He stucke them vp before the fulsome Ewes,
Who then conceauing, did in eaning time
Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were Iacobs.
This was a way to thriue, and he was blest:
And thrift is blessing if men steale it not

   Ant. This was a venture sir that Iacob seru'd for,
A thing not in his power to bring to passe,
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heauen.
Was this inserted to make interrest good?
Or is your gold and siluer Ewes and Rams?
  Shy. I cannot tell, I make it breede as fast,
But note me signior

   Ant. Marke you this Bassanio,
The diuell can cite Scripture for his purpose,
An euill soule producing holy witnesse,
Is like a villaine with a smiling cheeke,
A goodly apple rotten at the heart.
O what a goodly outside falsehood hath

   Shy. Three thousand ducats, 'tis a good round sum.
Three months from twelue, then let me see the rate

   Ant. Well Shylocke, shall we be beholding to you?
  Shy. Signior Anthonio, many a time and oft
In the Ryalto you haue rated me
About my monies and my vsances:
Still haue I borne it with a patient shrug,
(For suffrance is the badge of all our Tribe.)
You call me misbeleeuer, cut-throate dog,
And spet vpon my Iewish gaberdine,
And all for vse of that which is mine owne.
Well then, it now appeares you neede my helpe:
Goe to then, you come to me, and you say,
Shylocke, we would haue moneyes, you say so:
You that did voide your rume vpon my beard,
And foote me as you spurne a stranger curre
Ouer your threshold, moneyes is your suite.
What should I say to you? Should I not say,
Hath a dog money? Is it possible
A curre should lend three thousand ducats? or
Shall I bend low, and in a bond-mans key
With bated breath, and whispring humblenesse,
Say this: Faire sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You cald me dog: and for these curtesies
Ile lend you thus much moneyes

   Ant. I am as like to call thee so againe,
To spet on thee againe, to spurne thee too.
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
As to thy friends, for when did friendship take
A breede of barraine mettall of his friend?
But lend it rather to thine enemie,
Who if he breake, thou maist with better face
Exact the penalties

   Shy. Why looke you how you storme,
I would be friends with you, and haue your loue,
Forget the shames that you haue staind me with,
Supplie your present wants, and take no doite
Of vsance for my moneyes, and youle not heare me,
This is kinde I offer

   Bass. This were kindnesse

   Shy. This kindnesse will I showe,
Goe with me to a Notarie, seale me there
Your single bond, and in a merrie sport
If you repaie me not on such a day,
In such a place, such sum or sums as are
Exprest in the condition, let the forfeite
Be nominated for an equall pound
Of your faire flesh, to be cut off and taken
In what part of your bodie it pleaseth me

   Ant. Content infaith, Ile seale to such a bond,
And say there is much kindnesse in the Iew

   Bass. You shall not seale to such a bond for me,
Ile rather dwell in my necessitie

   Ant. Why feare not man, I will not forfaite it,
Within these two months, that's a month before
This bond expires, I doe expect returne
Of thrice three times the valew of this bond

   Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians are,
Whose owne hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others: Praie you tell me this,
If he should breake his daie, what should I gaine
By the exaction of the forfeiture?
A pound of mans flesh taken from a man,
Is not so estimable, profitable neither
As flesh of Muttons, Beefes, or Goates, I say
To buy his fauour, I extend this friendship,
If he will take it, so: if not adiew,
And for my loue I praie you wrong me not

   Ant. Yes Shylocke, I will seale vnto this bond

   Shy. Then meete me forthwith at the Notaries,
Giue him direction for this merrie bond,
And I will goe and purse the ducats straite.
See to my house left in the fearefull gard
Of an vnthriftie knaue: and presentlie
Ile be with you.
Enter.

  Ant. Hie thee gentle Iew. This Hebrew will turne
Christian, he growes kinde

   Bass. I like not faire tearmes, and a villaines minde

   Ant. Come on, in this there can be no dismaie,
My Shippes come home a month before the daie.

Exeunt.


Actus Secundus.

Enter Morochus a tawnie Moore all in white, and three or foure
followers
accordingly, with Portia, Nerrissa, and their traine. Flo. Cornets.

  Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadowed liuerie of the burnisht sunne,
To whom I am a neighbour, and neere bred.
Bring me the fairest creature North-ward borne,
Where Phoebus fire scarce thawes the ysicles,
And let vs make incision for your loue,
To proue whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee Ladie this aspect of mine
Hath feard the valiant, (by my loue I sweare)
The best regarded Virgins of our Clyme
Haue lou'd it to: I would not change this hue,
Except to steale your thoughts my gentle Queene

   Por. In tearmes of choise I am not solie led
By nice direction of a maidens eies:
Besides, the lottrie of my destenie
Bars me the right of voluntarie choosing:
But if my Father had not scanted me,
And hedg'd me by his wit to yeelde my selfe
His wife, who wins me by that meanes I told you,
Your selfe (renowned Prince) than stood as faire
As any commer I haue look'd on yet
For my affection

   Mor. Euen for that I thanke you,
Therefore I pray you leade me to the Caskets
To trie my fortune: By this Symitare
That slew the Sophie, and a Persian Prince
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
I would ore-stare the sternest eies that looke:
Out-braue the heart most daring on the earth:
Plucke the yong sucking Cubs from the she Beare,
Yea, mocke the Lion when he rores for pray
To win the Ladie. But alas, the while
If Hercules and Lychas plaie at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turne by fortune from the weaker hand:
So is Alcides beaten by his rage,
And so may I, blinde fortune leading me
Misse that which one vnworthier may attaine,
And die with grieuing

   Port. You must take your chance,
And either not attempt to choose at all,
Or sweare before you choose, if you choose wrong
Neuer to speake to Ladie afterward
In way of marriage, therefore be aduis'd

   Mor. Nor will not, come bring me vnto my chance

   Por. First forward to the temple, after dinner
Your hazard shall be made

   Mor. Good fortune then,

Cornets.

To make me blest or cursed'st among men.

Exeunt.

Enter the Clowne alone.

  Clo. Certainely, my conscience will serue me to run
from this Iew my Maister: the fiend is at mine elbow,
and tempts me, saying to me, Iobbe, Launcelet Iobbe, good
Launcelet, or good Iobbe, or good Launcelet Iobbe, vse
your legs, take the start, run awaie: my conscience saies
no; take heede honest Launcelet, take heed honest Iobbe,
or as afore-said honest Launcelet Iobbe, doe not runne,
scorne running with thy heeles; well, the most coragious
fiend bids me packe, fia saies the fiend, away saies
the fiend, for the heauens rouse vp a braue minde saies
the fiend, and run; well, my conscience hanging about
the necke of my heart, saies verie wisely to me: my honest
friend Launcelet, being an honest mans sonne, or rather
an honest womans sonne, for indeede my Father did
something smack, something grow too; he had a kinde of
taste; wel, my conscience saies Lancelet bouge not, bouge
saies the fiend, bouge not saies my conscience, conscience
say I you counsaile well, fiend say I you counsaile well,
to be rul'd by my conscience I should stay with the Iew
my Maister, (who God blesse the marke) is a kinde of diuell;
and to run away from the Iew I should be ruled by
the fiend, who sauing your reuerence is the diuell himselfe:
certainely the Iew is the verie diuell incarnation,
and in my conscience, my conscience is a kinde of hard
conscience, to offer to counsaile me to stay with the Iew;
the fiend giues the more friendly counsaile: I will runne
fiend, my heeles are at your commandement, I will
runne.
Enter old Gobbe with a Basket.

  Gob. Maister yong-man, you I praie you, which is the
waie to Maister Iewes?
  Lan. O heauens, this is my true begotten Father, who
being more then sand-blinde, high grauel blinde, knows
me not, I will trie confusions with him

   Gob. Maister yong Gentleman, I praie you which is
the waie to Maister Iewes

   Laun. Turne vpon your right hand at the next turning,
but at the next turning of all on your left; marrie
at the verie next turning, turne of no hand, but turn down
indirectlie to the Iewes house

   Gob. Be Gods sonties 'twill be a hard waie to hit, can
you tell me whether one Launcelet that dwels with him
dwell with him or no

   Laun. Talke you of yong Master Launcelet, marke
me now, now will I raise the waters; talke you of yong
Maister Launcelet?
  Gob. No Maister sir, but a poore mans sonne, his Father
though I say't is an honest exceeding poore man,
and God be thanked well to liue

   Lan. Well, let his Father be what a will, wee talke of
yong Maister Launcelet

   Gob. Your worships friend and Launcelet

   Laun. But I praie you ergo old man, ergo I beseech you,
talke you of yong Maister Launcelet

   Gob. Of Launcelet, ant please your maistership

   Lan. Ergo Maister Lancelet, talke not of maister Lancelet
Father, for the yong gentleman according to fates and
destinies, and such odde sayings, the sisters three, & such
branches of learning, is indeede deceased, or as you
would say in plaine tearmes, gone to heauen

   Gob. Marrie God forbid, the boy was the verie staffe
of my age, my verie prop

   Lau. Do I look like a cudgell or a houell-post, a staffe
or a prop: doe you know me Father

   Gob. Alacke the day, I know you not yong Gentleman,
but I praie you tell me, is my boy God rest his soule
aliue or dead

   Lan. Doe you not know me Father

   Gob. Alacke sir I am sand blinde, I know you not

   Lan. Nay, indeede if you had your eies you might
faile of the knowing me: it is a wise Father that knowes
his owne childe. Well, old man, I will tell you newes of
your son, giue me your blessing, truth will come to light,
murder cannot be hid long, a mans sonne may, but in the
end truth will out

   Gob. Praie you sir stand vp, I am sure you are not
Lancelet my boy

   Lan. Praie you let's haue no more fooling about
it, but giue mee your blessing: I am Lancelet your
boy that was, your sonne that is, your childe that
shall be

   Gob. I cannot thinke you are my sonne

   Lan. I know not what I shall thinke of that: but I am
Lancelet the Iewes man, and I am sure Margerie your wife
is my mother

   Gob. Her name is Margerie indeede, Ile be sworne if
thou be Lancelet, thou art mine owne flesh and blood:
Lord worshipt might he be, what a beard hast thou got;
thou hast got more haire on thy chin, then Dobbin my
philhorse has on his taile

   Lan. It should seeme then that Dobbins taile
growes backeward. I am sure he had more haire of his
taile then I haue of my face when I last saw him

   Gob. Lord how art thou chang'd: how doost thou
and thy Master agree, I haue brought him a present; how
gree you now?
  Lan. Well, well, but for mine owne part, as I haue set
vp my rest to run awaie, so I will not rest till I haue run
some ground; my Maister's a verie Iew, giue him a present,
giue him a halter, I am famisht in his seruice. You
may tell euerie finger I haue with my ribs: Father I am
glad you are come, giue me your present to one Maister
Bassanio, who indeede giues rare new Liuories, if I serue
not him, I will run as far as God has anie ground. O rare
fortune, here comes the man, to him Father, for I am a
Iew if I serue the Iew anie longer.
Enter Bassanio with a follower or two.

  Bass. You may doe so, but let it be so hasted that
supper be readie at the farthest by fiue of the clocke:
see these Letters deliuered, put the Liueries to making,
and desire Gratiano to come anone to my lodging

   Lan. To him Father

   Gob. God blesse your worship

   Bass. Gramercie, would'st thou ought with me

   Gob. Here's my sonne sir, a poore boy

   Lan. Not a poore boy sir, but the rich Iewes man that
would sir as my Father shall specifie

   Gob. He hath a great infection sir, as one would say
to serue

   Lan. Indeede the short and the long is, I serue the
Iew, and haue a desire as my Father shall specifie

   Gob. His Maister and he (sauing your worships reuerence)
are scarce catercosins

   Lan. To be briefe, the verie truth is, that the Iew
hauing done me wrong, doth cause me as my Father being
I hope an old man shall frutifie vnto you

   Gob. I haue here a dish of Doues that I would bestow
vpon your worship, and my suite is

   Lan. In verie briefe, the suite is impertinent to my
selfe, as your worship shall know by this honest old man,
and though I say it, though old man, yet poore man my
Father

   Bass. One speake for both, what would you?
  Lan. Serue you sir

   Gob. That is the verie defect of the matter sir

   Bass. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suite,
Shylocke thy Maister spoke with me this daie,
And hath prefer'd thee, if it be preferment
To leaue a rich Iewes seruice, to become
The follower of so poore a Gentleman

   Clo. The old prouerbe is verie well parted betweene
my Maister Shylocke and you sir, you haue the grace of
God sir, and he hath enough

   Bass. Thou speak'st well; go Father with thy Son,
Take leaue of thy old Maister, and enquire
My lodging out, giue him a Liuerie
More garded then his fellowes: see it done

   Clo. Father in, I cannot get a seruice, no, I haue nere
a tongue in my head, well: if anie man in Italie haue a
fairer table which doth offer to sweare vpon a booke, I
shall haue good fortune; goe too, here's a simple line
of life, here's a small trifle of wiues, alas, fifteene wiues
is nothing, a leuen widdowes and nine maides is a simple
comming in for one man, and then to scape drowning
thrice, and to be in perill of my life with the edge
of a featherbed, here are simple scapes: well, if Fortune
be a woman, she's a good wench for this gere: Father
come, Ile take my leaue of the Iew in the twinkling.

Exit Clowne.

  Bass. I praie thee good Leonardo thinke on this,
These things being bought and orderly bestowed
Returne in haste, for I doe feast to night
My best esteemd acquaintance, hie thee goe

   Leon. my best endeuors shall be done herein.

Exit Le.

Enter Gratiano.

  Gra. Where's your Maister

   Leon. Yonder sir he walkes

   Gra. Signior Bassanio

   Bas. Gratiano

   Gra. I haue a sute to you

   Bass. You haue obtain'd it

   Gra. You must not denie me, I must goe with you to
Belmont

   Bass. Why then you must: but heare thee Gratiano,
Thou art to wilde, to rude, and bold of voyce,
Parts that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appeare not faults;
But where they are not knowne, why there they show
Something too liberall, pray thee take paine
To allay with some cold drops of modestie
Thy skipping spirit, least through thy wilde behauiour
I be misconsterd in the place I goe to,
And loose my hopes

   Gra. Signor Bassanio, heare me,
If I doe not put on a sober habite,
Talke with respect, and sweare but now and than,
Weare prayer bookes in my pocket, looke demurely,
Nay more, while grace is saying hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh and say Amen:
Vse all the obseruance of ciuillitie
Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his Grandam, neuer trust me more

   Bas. Well, we shall see your bearing

   Gra. Nay but I barre to night, you shall not gage me
By what we doe to night

   Bas. No that were pittie,
I would intreate you rather to put on
Your boldest suite of mirth, for we haue friends
That purpose merriment: but far you well,
I haue some businesse

   Gra. And I must to Lorenso and the rest,
But we will visite you at supper time.

Exeunt.

Enter Iessica and the Clowne.

  Ies. I am sorry thou wilt leaue my Father so,
Our house is hell, and thou a merrie diuell
Did'st rob it of some taste of tediousnesse;
But far thee well, there is a ducat for thee,
And Lancelet, soone at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new Maisters guest,
Giue him this Letter, doe it secretly,
And so farewell: I would not haue my Father
see me talke with thee

   Clo. Adue, teares exhibit my tongue, most beautifull
Pagan, most sweete Iew, if a Christian doe not play the
knaue and get thee, I am much deceiued; but adue, these
foolish drops doe somewhat drowne my manly spirit:
adue.
Enter.

  Ies. Farewell good Lancelet.
Alacke, what hainous sinne is it in me
To be ashamed to be my Fathers childe,
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo,
If thou keepe promise I shall end this strife,
Become a Christian, and thy louing wife.
Enter.

Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio.

  Lor. Nay, we will slinke away in supper time,
Disguise vs at my lodging, and returne all in an houre

   Gra. We haue not made good preparation

   Sal. We haue not spoke vs yet of Torch-bearers

   Sol. 'Tis vile vnlesse it may be quaintly ordered,
And better in my minde not vndertooke

   Lor. 'Tis now but foure of clock, we haue two houres
To furnish vs; friend Lancelet what's the newes.
Enter Lancelet with a Letter.

  Lan. And it shall please you to breake vp this, shall it
seeme to signifie

   Lor. I know the hand, in faith 'tis a faire hand
And whiter then the paper it writ on,
Is the faire hand that writ

   Gra. Loue newes in faith

   Lan. By your leaue sir

   Lor. Whither goest thou?
  Lan. Marry sir to bid my old Master the Iew to sup
to night with my new Master the Christian

   Lor. Hold here, take this, tell gentle Iessica
I will not faile her, speake it priuately:
Go Gentlemen, will you prepare you for this Maske to
night,
I am prouided of a Torch-bearer.

Exit. Clowne

   Sal. I marry, ile be gone about it strait

   Sol. And so will I

   Lor. Meete me and Gratiano at Gratianos lodging
Some houre hence

   Sal. 'Tis good we do so.
Enter.

  Gra. Was not that Letter from faire Iessica?
  Lor. I must needes tell thee all, she hath directed
How I shall take her from her Fathers house,
What gold and iewels she is furnisht with,
What Pages suite she hath in readinesse:
If ere the Iew her Father come to heauen,
It will be for his gentle daughters sake;
And neuer dare misfortune crosse her foote,
Vnlesse she doe it vnder this excuse,
That she is issue to a faithlesse Iew:
Come goe with me, pervse this as thou goest,
Faire Iessica shall be my Torch-bearer.
Enter.

Enter Iew, and his man that was the Clowne.

  Iew. Well, thou shall see, thy eyes shall be thy iudge,
The difference of old Shylocke and Bassanio;
What Iessica, thou shalt not gurmandize
As thou hast done with me: what Iessica?
And sleepe, and snore, and rend apparrell out.
Why Iessica I say

   Clo. Why Iessica

   Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call

   Clo. Your worship was wont to tell me
I could doe nothing without bidding.
Enter Iessica.

  Ies. Call you? what is your will?
  Shy. I am bid forth to supper Iessica,
There are my Keyes: but wherefore should I go?
I am not bid for loue, they flatter me,
But yet Ile goe in hate, to feede vpon
The prodigall Christian. Iessica my girle,
Looke to my house, I am right loath to goe,
There is some ill a bruing towards my rest,
For I did dreame of money bags to night

   Clo. I beseech you sir goe, my yong Master
Doth expect your reproach

   Shy. So doe I his

   Clo. And they haue conspired together, I will not say
you shall see a Maske, but if you doe, then it was not for
nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on blacke monday
last, at six a clocke ith morning, falling out that yeere on
ashwensday was foure yeere in th' afternoone

   Shy. What are their maskes? heare you me Iessica,
Lock vp my doores, and when you heare the drum
And the vile squealing of the wry-neckt Fife,
Clamber not you vp to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the publique streete
To gaze on Christian fooles with varnisht faces:
But stop my houses eares, I meane my casements,
Let not the sound of shallow fopperie enter
My sober house. By Iacobs staffe I sweare,
I haue no minde of feasting forth to night:
But I will goe: goe you before me sirra,
Say I will come

   Clo. I will goe before sir,
Mistris looke out at window for all this;
There will come a Christian by,
Will be worth a Iewes eye

   Shy. What saies that foole of Hagars off-spring?
ha

   Ies. His words were farewell mistris, nothing else

   Shy. The patch is kinde enough, but a huge feeder:
Snaile-slow in profit, but he sleepes by day
More then the wilde-cat: drones hiue not with me,
Therefore I part with him, and part with him
To one that I would haue him helpe to waste
His borrowed purse. Well Iessica goe in,
Perhaps I will returne immediately;
Doe as I bid you, shut dores after you, fast binde, fast
finde,
A prouerbe neuer stale in thriftie minde.
Enter.

  Ies. Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost,
I haue a Father, you a daughter lost.
Enter.

Enter the Maskers, Gratiano and Salino.

  Gra. This is the penthouse vnder which Lorenzo
Desired vs to make a stand

   Sal. His houre is almost past

   Gra. And it is meruaile he out-dwels his houre,
For louers euer run before the clocke

   Sal. O ten times faster Venus Pidgions flye
To steale loues bonds new made, then they are wont
To keepe obliged faith vnforfaited

   Gra. That euer holds, who riseth from a feast
With that keene appetite that he sits downe?
Where is the horse that doth vntread againe
His tedious measures with the vnbated fire,
That he did pace them first: all things that are,
Are with more spirit chased then enioy'd.
How like a yonger or a prodigall
The skarfed barke puts from her natiue bay,
Hudg'd and embraced by the strumpet winde:
How like a prodigall doth she returne
With ouer-wither'd ribs and ragged sailes,
Leane, rent, and begger'd by the strumpet winde?
Enter Lorenzo.

  Salino. Heere comes Lorenzo, more of this hereafter

   Lor. Sweete friends, your patience for my long abode,
Not I, but my affaires haue made you wait;
When you shall please to play the theeues for wiues
Ile watch as long for you then: approach
Here dwels my father Iew. Hoa, who's within?

Iessica aboue.

  Iess. Who are you? tell me for more certainty,
Albeit Ile sweare that I do know your tongue

   Lor. Lorenzo, and thy Loue

   Ies. Lorenzo certaine, and my loue indeed,
For who loue I so much? and now who knowes
But you Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
  Lor. Heauen and thy thoughts are witness that thou
art

   Ies. Heere, catch this casket, it is worth the paines,
I am glad 'tis night, you do not looke on me,
For I am much asham'd of my exchange:
But loue is blinde, and louers cannot see
The pretty follies that themselues commit,
For if they could, Cupid himselfe would blush
To see me thus transformed to a boy

   Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer

   Ies. What, must I hold a Candle to my shames?
They in themselues goodsooth are too too light.
Why, 'tis an office of discouery Loue,
And I should be obscur'd

   Lor. So you are sweet,
Euen in the louely garnish of a boy: but come at once,
For the close night doth play the run-away,
And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast

   Ies. I will make fast the doores and guild my selfe
With some more ducats, and be with you straight

   Gra. Now by my hood, a gentle, and no Iew

   Lor. Beshrew me but I loue her heartily.
For she is wise, if I can iudge of her.
And faire she is, if that mine eyes be true,
And true she is, as she hath prou'd her selfe:
And therefore like her selfe, wise, faire, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soule.
Enter Iessica.

What, art thou come? on gentlemen, away,
Our masking mates by this time for vs stay.
Enter.

Enter Anthonio.

  Ant. Who's there?
  Gra. Signior Anthonio?
  Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest?
'Tis nine a clocke, our friends all stay for you,
No maske to night, the winde is come about,
Bassanio presently will goe aboord,
I haue sent twenty out to seeke for you

   Gra. I am glad on't, I desire no more delight
Then to be vnder saile, and gone to night.

Exeunt.

Enter Portia with Morrocho, and both their traines.

  Por. Goe, draw aside the curtaines, and discouer
The seuerall Caskets to this noble Prince:
Now make your choyse

   Mor. The first of gold, who this inscription beares,
Who chooseth me, shall gaine what men desire.
The second siluer, which this promise carries,
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues.
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,
Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath.
How shall I know if I doe choose the right?
How shall I know if I doe choose the right

   Por. The one of them containes my picture Prince,
If you choose that, then I am yours withall

   Mor. Some God direct my iudgement, let me see,
I will suruay the inscriptions, backe againe:
What saies this leaden casket?
Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath.
Must giue, for what? for lead, hazard for lead?
This casket threatens men that hazard all
Doe it in hope of faire aduantages:
A golden minde stoopes not to showes of drosse,
Ile then nor giue nor hazard ought for lead.
What saies the Siluer with her virgin hue?
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues.
As much as he deserues; pause there Morocho,
And weigh thy value with an euen hand,
If thou beest rated by thy estimation
Thou doost deserue enough, and yet enough
May not extend so farre as to the Ladie:
And yet to be afeard of my deseruing,
Were but a weake disabling of my selfe.
As much as I deserue, why that's the Lady.
I doe in birth deserue her, and in fortunes,
In graces, and in qualities of breeding:
But more then these, in loue I doe deserue.
What if I strai'd no farther, but chose here?
Let's see once more this saying grau'd in gold.
Who chooseth me shall gaine what many men desire:
Why that's the Lady, all the world desires her:
From the foure corners of the earth they come
To kisse this shrine, this mortall breathing Saint.
The Hircanion deserts, and the vaste wildes
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now
For Princes to come view faire Portia.
The waterie Kingdome, whose ambitious head
Spets in the face of heauen, is no barre
To stop the forraine spirits, but they come
As ore a brooke to see faire Portia.
One of these three containes her heauenly picture.
Is't like that Lead containes her? 'twere damnation
To thinke so base a thought, it were too grose
To rib her searecloath in the obscure graue:
Or shall I thinke in Siluer she's immur'd
Being ten times vndervalued to tride gold;
O sinfull thought, neuer so rich a Iem
Was set in worse then gold! They haue in England
A coyne that beares the figure of an Angell
Stampt in gold, but that's insculpt vpon:
But here an Angell in a golden bed
Lies all within. Deliuer me the key:
Here doe I choose, and thriue I as I may

   Por. There take it Prince, and if my forme lye there
Then I am yours

   Mor. O hell! what haue we here, a carrion death,
Within whose emptie eye there is a written scroule;
Ile reade the writing.
All that glisters is not gold,
Often haue you heard that told;
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold;
Guilded timber doe wormes infold:
Had you beene as wise as bold,
Yong in limbs, in iudgement old,
Your answere had not beene inscrold,
Fareyouwell, your suite is cold,
  Mor. Cold indeede, and labour lost,
Then farewell heate, and welcome frost:
Portia adew, I haue too grieu'd a heart
To take a tedious leaue: thus loosers part.
Enter.

  Por. A gentle riddance: draw the curtaines, go:
Let all of his complexion choose me so.

Exeunt.

Enter Salarino and Solanio.

  Flo. Cornets

   Sal. Why man I saw Bassanio vnder sayle;
With him is Gratiano gone along;
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not

   Sol. The villaine Iew with outcries raisd the Duke.
Who went with him to search Bassanios ship

   Sal. He comes too late, the ship was vndersaile;
But there the Duke was giuen to vnderstand
That in a Gondilo were seene together
Lorenzo and his amorous Iessica.
Besides, Anthonio certified the Duke
They were not with Bassanio in his ship

   Sol. I neuer heard a passion so confusd,
So strange, outragious, and so variable,
As the dogge Iew did vtter in the streets;
My daughter, O my ducats, O my daughter,
Fled with a Christian, O my Christian ducats!
Iustice, the law, my ducats, and my daughter;
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,
Of double ducats, stolne from me by my daughter,
And iewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones,
Stolne by my daughter: iustice, finde the girle,
She hath the stones vpon her, and the ducats

   Sal. Why all the boyes in Venice follow him,
Crying his stones, his daughter, and his ducats

   Sol. Let good Anthonio looke he keepe his day
Or he shall pay for this

   Sal. Marry well remembred,
I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday,
Who told me, in the narrow seas that part
The French and English, there miscaried
A vessell of our countrey richly fraught:
I thought vpon Anthonio when he told me,
And wisht in silence that it were not his

   Sol. You were best to tell Anthonio what you heare.
Yet doe not suddainely, for it may grieue him

   Sal. A kinder Gentleman treads not the earth,
I saw Bassanio and Anthonio part,
Bassanio told him he would make some speede
Of his returne: he answered, doe not so,
Slubber not businesse for my sake Bassanio,
But stay the very riping of the time,
And for the Iewes bond which he hath of me,
Let it not enter in your minde of loue:
Be merry, and imploy your chiefest thoughts
To courtship, and such faire ostents of loue
As shall conueniently become you there;
And euen there his eye being big with teares,
Turning his face, he put his hand behinde him,
And with affection wondrous sencible
He wrung Bassanios hand, and so they parted

   Sol. I thinke he onely loues the world for him,
I pray thee let vs goe and finde him out
And quicken his embraced heauinesse
With some delight or other

   Sal. Doe we so.

Exeunt.

Enter Nerrissa and a Seruiture.

  Ner. Quick, quick I pray thee, draw the curtain strait,
The Prince of Arragon hath tane his oath,
And comes to his election presently.
Enter Arragon, his traine, and Portia. Flor. Cornets.

  Por. Behold, there stand the caskets noble Prince,
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd,
Straight shall our nuptiall rights be solemniz'd:
But if thou faile, without more speech my Lord,
You must be gone from hence immediately

   Ar. I am enioynd by oath to obserue three things;
First, neuer to vnfold to any one
Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I faile
Of the right casket, neuer in my life
To wooe a maide in way of marriage:
Lastly, if I doe faile in fortune of my choyse,
Immediately to leaue you, and be gone

   Por. To these iniunctions euery one doth sweare
That comes to hazard for my worthlesse selfe

   Ar. And so haue I addrest me, fortune now
To my hearts hope: gold, siluer, and base lead.
Who chooseth me must giue and hazard all he hath.
You shall looke fairer ere I giue or hazard.
What saies the golden chest, ha, let me see.
Who chooseth me, shall gaine what many men desire:
What many men desire, that many may be meant
By the foole multitude that choose by show,
Not learning more then the fond eye doth teach,
Which pries not to th' interior, but like the Martlet
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
Euen in the force and rode of casualtie.
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not iumpe with common spirits,
And ranke me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why then to thee thou Siluer treasure house,
Tell me once more, what title thou doost beare;
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues:
And well said too; for who shall goe about
To cosen Fortune, and be honourable
Without the stampe of merrit, let none presume
To weare an vndeserued dignitie:
O that estates, degrees, and offices,
Were not deriu'd corruptly, and that cleare honour
Were purchast by the merrit of the wearer;
How many then should couer that stand bare?
How many be commanded that command?
How much low pleasantry would then be gleaned
From the true seede of honor? And how much honor
Pickt from the chaffe and ruine of the times,
To be new varnisht: Well, but to my choise.
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues.
I will assume desert; giue me a key for this,
And instantly vnlocke my fortunes here

   Por. Too long a pause for that which you finde there

   Ar. What's here, the portrait of a blinking idiot
Presenting me a scedule, I will reade it:
How much vnlike art thou to Portia?
How much vnlike my hopes and my deseruings?
Who chooseth me, shall haue as much as he deserues.
Did I deserue no more then a fooles head,
Is that my prize, are my deserts no better?
  Por. To offend and iudge are distinct offices,
And of opposed natures

   Ar. What is here?
The fier seauen times tried this,
Seauen times tried that iudgement is,
That did neuer choose amis,
Some there be that shadowes kisse,
Such haue but a shadowes blisse:
There be fooles aliue Iwis
Siluer'd o're, and so was this:
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will euer be your head:
So be gone, you are sped

   Ar. Still more foole I shall appeare
By the time I linger here,
With one fooles head I came to woo,
But I goe away with two.
Sweet adue, Ile keepe my oath,
Patiently to beare my wroath

   Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moath:
O these deliberate fooles when they doe choose,
They haue the wisdome by their wit to loose

   Ner. The ancient saying is no heresie,
Hanging and wiuing goes by destinie

   Por. Come draw the curtaine Nerrissa.
Enter Messenger.

  Mes. Where is my Lady?
  Por. Here, what would my Lord?
  Mes. Madam, there is a-lighted at your gate
A yong Venetian, one that comes before
To signifie th' approaching of his Lord,
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets;
To wit (besides commends and curteous breath)
Gifts of rich value; yet I haue not seene
So likely an Embassador of loue.
A day in Aprill neuer came so sweete
To show how costly Sommer was at hand,
As this fore-spurrer comes before his Lord

   Por. No more I pray thee, I am halfe a-feard
Thou wilt say anone he is some kin to thee,
Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him:
Come, come Nerryssa, for I long to see
Quicke Cupids Post, that comes so mannerly

   Ner. Bassanio Lord, loue if thy will it be.

Exeunt.


Actus Tertius.

Enter Solanio and Salarino.

  Sol. Now, what newes on the Ryalto?
  Sal. Why yet it liues there vncheckt, that Anthonio
hath a ship of rich lading wrackt on the narrow Seas; the
Goodwins I thinke they call the place, a very dangerous
flat, and fatall, where the carcasses of many a tall ship, lye
buried, as they say, if my gossips report be an honest woman
of her word

   Sol. I would she were as lying a gossip in that, as euer
knapt Ginger, or made her neighbours beleeue she wept
for the death of a third husband: but it is true, without
any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plaine high-way of
talke, that the good Anthonio, the honest Anthonio; o that
I had a title good enough to keepe his name company!
  Sal. Come, the full stop

   Sol. Ha, what sayest thou, why the end is, he hath lost
a ship

   Sal. I would it might proue the end of his losses

   Sol. Let me say Amen betimes, least the diuell crosse
my praier, for here he comes in the likenes of a Iew. How
now Shylocke, what newes among the Merchants?
Enter Shylocke.

  Shy. You knew none so well, none so well as you, of
my daughters flight

   Sal. That's certaine, I for my part knew the Tailor
that made the wings she flew withall

   Sol. And Shylocke for his owne part knew the bird was
fledg'd, and then it is the complexion of them al to leaue
the dam

   Shy. She is damn'd for it

   Sal. That's certaine, if the diuell may be her Iudge

   Shy. My owne flesh and blood to rebell

   Sol. Out vpon it old carrion, rebels it at these yeeres

   Shy. I say my daughter is my flesh and bloud

   Sal. There is more difference betweene thy flesh and
hers, then betweene Iet and Iuorie, more betweene your
bloods, then there is betweene red wine and rennish: but
tell vs, doe you heare whether Anthonio haue had anie
losse at sea or no?
  Shy. There I haue another bad match, a bankrout, a
prodigall, who dare scarce shew his head on the Ryalto,
a begger that was vsd to come so smug vpon the Mart:
let him look to his bond, he was wont to call me Vsurer,
let him looke to his bond, he was wont to lend money
for a Christian curtsie, let him looke to his bond

   Sal. Why I am sure if he forfaite, thou wilt not take
his flesh, what's that good for?
  Shy. To baite fish withall, if it will feede nothing
else, it will feede my reuenge; he hath disgrac'd me, and
hindred me halfe a million, laught at my losses, mockt at
my gaines, scorned my Nation, thwarted my bargaines,
cooled my friends, heated mine enemies, and what's the
reason? I am a Iewe: Hath not a Iew eyes? hath not a
Iew hands, organs, dementions, sences, affections, passions,
fed with the same foode, hurt with the same weapons,
subiect to the same diseases, healed by the same
meanes, warmed and cooled by the same Winter and
Sommer as a Christian is: if you pricke vs doe we not
bleede? if you tickle vs, doe we not laugh? if you poison
vs doe we not die? and if you wrong vs shall we not reuenge?
if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you
in that. If a Iew wrong a Christian, what is his humility,
reuenge? If a Christian wrong a Iew, what should his sufferance
be by Christian example, why reuenge? The villanie
you teach me I will execute, and it shall goe hard
but I will better the instruction.
Enter a man from Anthonio.

Gentlemen, my maister Anthonio is at his house, and
desires to speake with you both

   Sal. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke him.
Enter Tuball.

  Sol. Here comes another of the Tribe, a third cannot
be matcht, vnlesse the diuell himselfe turne Iew.

Exeunt. Gentlemen

   Shy. How now Tuball, what newes from Genowa? hast
thou found my daughter?
  Tub. I often came where I did heare of her, but cannot
finde her

   Shy. Why there, there, there, there, a diamond gone
cost me two thousand ducats in Franckford, the curse neuer
fell vpon our Nation till now, I neuer felt it till now,
two thousand ducats in that, and other precious, precious
iewels: I would my daughter were dead at my foot,
and the iewels in her eare: would she were hearst at my
foote, and the duckets in her coffin: no newes of them,
why so? and I know not how much is spent in the search:
why thou losse vpon losse, the theefe gone with so
much, and so much to finde the theefe, and no satisfaction,
no reuenge, nor no ill luck stirring but what lights
a my shoulders, no sighes but a my breathing, no teares
but a my shedding

   Tub. Yes, other men haue ill lucke too, Anthonio as I
heard in Genowa?
  Shy. What, what, what, ill lucke, ill lucke

   Tub. Hath an Argosie cast away comming from Tripolis

   Shy. I thanke God, I thanke God, is it true, is it true?
  Tub. I spoke with some of the Saylers that escaped
the wracke

   Shy. I thanke thee good Tuball, good newes, good
newes: ha, ha, here in Genowa

   Tub. Your daughter spent in Genowa, as I heard, one
night fourescore ducats

   Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me, I shall neuer see my
gold againe, fourescore ducats at a sitting, fourescore ducats

   Tub. There came diuers of Anthonios creditors in my
company to Venice, that sweare hee cannot choose but
breake

   Shy. I am very glad of it, ile plague him, ile torture
him, I am glad of it,
  Tub. One of them shewed me a ring that hee had of
your daughter for a Monkie

   Shy. Out vpon her, thou torturest me Tuball, it was
my Turkies, I had it of Leah when I was a Batcheler: I
would not haue giuen it for a wildernesse of Monkies

   Tub. But Anthonio is certainely vndone

   Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true, goe Tuball, see
me an Officer, bespeake him a fortnight before, I will
haue the heart of him if he forfeit, for were he out of Venice,
I can make what merchandize I will: goe Tuball,
and meete me at our Sinagogue, goe good Tuball, at our
Sinagogue Tuball.

Exeunt.

Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, and all their traine.

  Por. I pray you tarrie, pause a day or two
Before you hazard, for in choosing wrong
I loose your companie; therefore forbeare a while,
There's something tels me (but it is not loue)
I would not loose you, and you know your selfe,
Hate counsailes not in such a quallitie;
But least you should not vnderstand me well,
And yet a maiden hath no tongue, but thought,
I would detaine you here some month or two
Before you venture for me. I could teach you
How to choose right, but then I am forsworne,
So will I neuer be, so may you misse me,
But if you doe, youle make me wish a sinne,
That I had beene forsworne: Beshrow your eyes,
They haue ore-lookt me and deuided me,
One halfe of me is yours, the other halfe yours,
Mine owne I would say: but of mine then yours,
And so all yours; O these naughtie times
Puts bars betweene the owners and their rights.
And so though yours, not yours (proue it so)
Let Fortune goe to hell for it, not I.
I speake too long, but 'tis to peize the time,
To ich it, and to draw it out in length,
To stay you from election

   Bass. Let me choose,
For as I am, I liue vpon the racke

   Por. Vpon the racke Bassanio, then confesse
What treason there is mingled with your loue

   Bass. None but that vglie treason of mistrust.
Which makes me feare the enioying of my loue:
There may as well be amitie and life,
'Tweene snow and fire, as treason and my loue

   Por. I, but I feare you speake vpon the racke,
Where men enforced doth speake any thing

   Bass. Promise me life, and ile confesse the truth

   Por. Well then, confesse and liue

   Bass. Confesse and loue
Had beene the verie sum of my confession:
O happie torment, when my torturer
Doth teach me answers for deliuerance:
But let me to my fortune and the caskets

   Por. Away then, I am lockt in one of them,
If you doe loue me, you will finde me out.
Nerryssa and the rest, stand all aloofe,
Let musicke sound while he doth make his choise,
Then if he loose he makes a Swan-like end,
Fading in musique. That the comparison
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the streame
And watrie death-bed for him: he may win,
And what is musique than? Than musique is
Euen as the flourish, when true subiects bowe
To a new crowned Monarch: Such it is,
As are those dulcet sounds in breake of day,
That creepe into the dreaming bride-groomes eare,
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes
With no lesse presence, but with much more loue
Then yong Alcides, when he did redeeme
The virgine tribute, paied by howling Troy
To the Sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice,
The rest aloofe are the Dardanian wiues:
With bleared visages come forth to view
The issue of th' exploit: Goe Hercules,
Liue thou, I liue with much more dismay
I view the sight, then thou that mak'st the fray.

Here Musicke. A Song the whilst Bassanio comments on the
Caskets to
himselfe.

Tell me where is fancie bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head:
How begot, how nourished. Replie, replie.
It is engendred in the eyes,
With gazing fed, and Fancie dies,
In the cradle where it lies:
Let vs all ring Fancies knell.
Ile begin it.
Ding, dong, bell

   All. Ding, dong, bell

   Bass. So may the outward showes be least themselues
The world is still deceiu'd with ornament.
In Law, what Plea so tainted and corrupt,
But being season'd with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of euill? In Religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will blesse it, and approue it with a text,
Hiding the grosenesse with faire ornament:
There is no voice so simple, but assumes
Some marke of vertue on his outward parts;
How manie cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stayers of sand, weare yet vpon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who inward searcht, haue lyuers white as milke,
And these assume but valors excrement,
To render them redoubted. Looke on beautie,
And you shall see 'tis purchast by the weight,
Which therein workes a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that weare most of it:
So are those crisped snakie golden locks
Which makes such wanton gambols with the winde
Vpon supposed fairenesse, often knowne
To be the dowrie of a second head,
The scull that bred them in the Sepulcher.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
To a most dangerous sea: the beautious scarfe
Vailing an Indian beautie; In a word,
The seeming truth which cunning times put on
To intrap the wisest. Therefore then thou gaudie gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee,
Nor none of thee thou pale and common drudge
'Tweene man and man: but thou, thou meager lead
Which rather threatnest then dost promise ought,
Thy palenesse moues me more then eloquence,
And here choose I, ioy be the consequence

   Por. How all the other passions fleet to ayre,
As doubtfull thoughts, and rash imbrac'd despaire:
And shuddring feare, and greene-eyed iealousie.
O loue be moderate, allay thy extasie,
In measure raine thy ioy, scant this excesse,
I feele too much thy blessing, make it lesse,
For feare I surfeit

   Bas. What finde I here?
Faire Portias counterfeit. What demie God
Hath come so neere creation? moue these eies?
Or whether riding on the bals of mine
Seeme they in motion? Here are seuer'd lips
Parted with suger breath, so sweet a barre
Should sunder such sweet friends: here in her haires
The Painter plaies the Spider, and hath wouen
A golden mesh t' intrap the hearts of men
Faster then gnats in cobwebs: but her eies,
How could he see to doe them? hauing made one,
Me thinkes it should haue power to steale both his
And leaue it selfe vnfurnisht: Yet looke how farre
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In vnderprising it, so farre this shadow
Doth limpe behinde the substance. Here's the scroule,
The continent, and summarie of my fortune.
You that choose not by the view
Chance as faire, and choose as true:
Since this fortune fals to you,
Be content, and seeke no new.
If you be well pleasd with this,
And hold your fortune for your blisse,
Turne you where your Lady is,
And claime her with a louing kisse

   Bass. A gentle scroule: Faire Lady, by your leaue,
I come by note to giue, and to receiue,
Like one of two contending in a prize
That thinks he hath done well in peoples eies:
Hearing applause and vniuersall shout,
Giddie in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
Whether those peales of praise be his or no.
So thrice faire Lady stand I euen so,
As doubtfull whether what I see be true,
Vntill confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you

   Por. You see my Lord Bassiano where I stand,
Such as I am; though for my selfe alone
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish my selfe much better, yet for you,
I would be trebled twenty times my selfe,
A thousand times more faire, ten thousand times
More rich, that onely to stand high in your account,
I might in vertues, beauties, liuings, friends,
Exceed account: but the full summe of me
Is sum of nothing: which to terme in grosse,
Is an vnlessoned girle, vnschool'd, vnpractiz'd,
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
But she may learne: happier then this,
Shee is not bred so dull but she can learne;
Happiest of all, is that her gentle spirit
Commits it selfe to yours to be directed,
As from her Lord, her Gouernour, her King.
My selfe, and what is mine, to you and yours
Is now conuerted. But now I was the Lord
Of this faire mansion, master of my seruants,
Queene ore my selfe: and euen now, but now,
This house, these seruants, and this same my selfe
Are yours, my Lord, I giue them with this ring,
Which when you part from, loose, or giue away,
Let it presage the ruine of your loue,
And be my vantage to exclaime on you

   Bass. Maddam, you haue bereft me of all words,
Onely my bloud speakes to you in my vaines,
And there is such confusion in my powers,
As after some oration fairely spoke
By a beloued Prince, there doth appeare
Among the buzzing pleased multitude,
Where euery something being blent together,
Turnes to a wilde of nothing, saue of ioy
Exprest, and not exprest: but when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence,
O then be bold to say Bassanio's dead

   Ner. My Lord and Lady, it is now our time
That haue stood by and seene our wishes prosper,
To cry good ioy, good ioy my Lord and Lady

   Gra. My Lord Bassanio, and my gentle Lady,
I wish you all the ioy that you can wish:
For I am sure you can wish none from me:
And when your Honours meane to solemnize
The bargaine of your faith: I doe beseech you
Euen at that time I may be married too

   Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife

   Gra. I thanke your Lordship, you haue got me one.
My eyes my Lord can looke as swift as yours:
You saw the mistres, I beheld the maid:
You lou'd, I lou'd for intermission,
No more pertaines to me my Lord then you;
Your fortune stood vpon the caskets there,
And so did mine too, as the matter falls:
For wooing heere vntill I swet againe,
And swearing till my very rough was dry
With oathes of loue, at last, if promise last,
I got a promise of this faire one heere
To haue her loue: prouided that your fortune
Atchieu'd her mistresse

   Por. Is this true Nerrissa?
  Ner. Madam it is so, so you stand pleas'd withall

   Bass. And doe you Gratiano meane good faith?
  Gra. Yes faith my Lord

   Bass. Our feast shall be much honored in your marriage

   Gra. Weele play with them the first boy for a thousand
ducats

   Ner. What and stake downe?
  Gra. No, we shal nere win at that sport, and stake
downe.
But who comes heere? Lorenzo and his Infidell?
What and my old Venetian friend Salerio?
Enter Lorenzo, Iessica, and Salerio.

  Bas. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hether,
If that the youth of my new interest heere
Haue power to bid you welcome: by your leaue
I bid my verie friends and Countrimen
Sweet Portia welcome

   Por. So do I my Lord, they are intirely welcome

   Lor. I thanke your honor; for my part my Lord,
My purpose was not to haue seene you heere,
But meeting with Salerio by the way,
He did intreate mee past all saying nay
To come with him along

   Sal. I did my Lord,
And I haue reason for it, Signior Anthonio
Commends him to you

   Bass. Ere I ope his Letter
I pray you tell me how my good friend doth

   Sal. Not sicke my Lord, vnlesse it be in minde,
Nor wel, vnlesse in minde: his Letter there
Wil shew you his estate.

Opens the Letter.

  Gra. Nerrissa, cheere yond stranger, bid her welcom.
Your hand Salerio, what's the newes from Venice?
How doth that royal Merchant good Anthonio;
I know he will be glad of our successe,
We are the Iasons, we haue won the fleece

   Sal. I would you had won the fleece that hee hath
lost

   Por. There are some shrewd contents in yond same
Paper,
That steales the colour from Bassianos cheeke,
Some deere friend dead, else nothing in the world
Could turne so much the constitution
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse?
With leaue Bassanio I am halfe your selfe,
And I must freely haue the halfe of any thing
That this same paper brings you

   Bass. O sweet Portia,
Heere are a few of the vnpleasant'st words
That euer blotted paper. Gentle Ladie
When I did first impart my loue to you,
I freely told you all the wealth I had
Ran in my vaines: I was a Gentleman,
And then I told you true: and yet deere Ladie,
Rating my selfe at nothing, you shall see
How much I was a Braggart, when I told you
My state was nothing, I should then haue told you
That I was worse then nothing: for indeede
I haue ingag'd my selfe to a deere friend,
Ingag'd my friend to his meere enemie
To feede my meanes. Heere is a Letter Ladie,
The paper as the bodie of my friend,
And euerie word in it a gaping wound
Issuing life blood. But is it true Salerio,
Hath all his ventures faild, what not one hit,
From Tripolis, from Mexico and England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,
And not one vessell scape the dreadfull touch
Of Merchant-marring rocks?
  Sal. Not one my Lord.
Besides, it should appeare, that if he had
The present money to discharge the Iew,
He would not take it: neuer did I know
A creature that did beare the shape of man
So keene and greedy to confound a man.
He plyes the Duke at morning and at night,
And doth impeach the freedome of the state
If they deny him iustice. Twenty Merchants,
The Duke himselfe, and the Magnificoes
Of greatest port haue all perswaded with him,
But none can driue him from the enuious plea
Of forfeiture, of iustice, and his bond

   Iessi. When I was with him, I haue heard him sweare
To Tuball and to Chus, his Countri-men,
That he would rather haue Anthonio's flesh,
Then twenty times the value of the summe
That he did owe him: and I know my Lord,
If law, authoritie, and power denie not,
It will goe hard with poore Anthonio

   Por. Is it your deere friend that is thus in trouble?
  Bass. The deerest friend to me, the kindest man,
The best condition'd, and vnwearied spirit
In doing curtesies: and one in whom
The ancient Romane honour more appeares
Then any that drawes breath in Italie

   Por. What summe owes he the Iew?
  Bass. For me three thousand ducats

   Por. What, no more?
Pay him sixe thousand, and deface the bond:
Double sixe thousand, and then treble that,
Before a friend of this description
Shall lose a haire through Bassanio's fault.
First goe with me to Church, and call me wife,
And then away to Venice to your friend:
For neuer shall you lie by Portias side
With an vnquiet soule. You shall haue gold
To pay the petty debt twenty times ouer.
When it is payd, bring your true friend along,
My maid Nerrissa, and my selfe meane time
Will liue as maids and widdowes; come away,
For you shall hence vpon your wedding day:
Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheere,
Since you are deere bought, I will loue you deere.
But let me heare the letter of your friend.
Sweet Bassanio, my ships haue all miscarried, my Creditors
grow cruell, my estate is very low, my bond to the Iew is
forfeit, and since in paying it, it is impossible I should liue, all
debts are cleerd between you and I, if I might see you at my
death: notwithstanding, vse your pleasure, if your loue doe not
perswade you to come, let not my letter

   Por. O loue! dispach all busines and be gone

   Bass. Since I haue your good leaue to goe away,
I will make hast; but till I come againe,
No bed shall ere be guilty of my stay,
Nor rest be interposer twixt vs twaine.

Exeunt.

Enter the Iew, and Solanio, and Anthonio, and the Iaylor.

  Iew. Iaylor, looke to him, tell not me of mercy,
This is the foole that lends out money gratis.
Iaylor, looke to him

   Ant. Heare me yet good Shylok

   Iew. Ile haue my bond, speake not against my bond,
I haue sworne an oath that I will haue my bond:
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause,
But since I am a dog, beware my phangs,
The Duke shall grant me iustice, I do wonder
Thou naughty Iaylor, that thou art so fond
To come abroad with him at his request

   Ant. I pray thee heare me speake

   Iew. Ile haue my bond, I will not heare thee speake,
Ile haue my bond, and therefore speake no more,
Ile not be made a soft and dull ey'd foole,
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yeeld
To Christian intercessors: follow not,
Ile haue no speaking, I will haue my bond.

Exit Iew.

  Sol. It is the most impenetrable curre
That euer kept with men

   Ant. Let him alone,
Ile follow him no more with bootlesse prayers:
He seekes my life, his reason well I know;
I oft deliuer'd from his forfeitures
Many that haue at times made mone to me,
Therefore he hates me

   Sol. I am sure the Duke will neuer grant
this forfeiture to hold

   An. The Duke cannot deny the course of law:
For the commoditie that strangers haue
With vs in Venice, if it be denied,
Will much impeach the iustice of the State,
Since that the trade and profit of the citty
Consisteth of all Nations. Therefore goe,
These greefes and losses haue so bated mee,
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh
To morrow, to my bloudy Creditor.
Well Iaylor, on, pray God Bassanio come
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not.

Exeunt.

Enter Portia, Nerrissa, Lorenzo, Iessica, and a man of Portias.

  Lor. Madam, although I speake it in your presence,
You haue a noble and a true conceit
Of god-like amity, which appeares most strongly
In bearing thus the absence of your Lord.
But if you knew to whom you shew this honour,
How true a Gentleman you send releefe,
How deere a louer of my Lord your husband,
I know you would be prouder of the worke
Then customary bounty can enforce you

   Por. I neuer did repent for doing good,
Nor shall not now: for in companions
That do conuerse and waste the time together,
Whose soules doe beare an egal yoke of loue.
There must be needs a like proportion
Of lyniaments, of manners, and of spirit;
Which makes me thinke that this Anthonio
Being the bosome louer of my Lord,
Must needs be like my Lord. If it be so,
How little is the cost I haue bestowed
In purchasing the semblance of my soule;
From out the state of hellish cruelty,
This comes too neere the praising of my selfe,
Therefore no more of it: heere other things
Lorenso I commit into your hands,
The husbandry and mannage of my house,
Vntill my Lords returne; for mine owne part
I haue toward heauen breath'd a secret vow,
To liue in prayer and contemplation,
Onely attended by Nerrissa heere,
Vntill her husband and my Lords returne:
There is a monastery too miles off,
And there we will abide. I doe desire you
Not to denie this imposition,
The which my loue and some necessity
Now layes vpon you

   Lorens. Madame, with all my heart,
I shall obey you in all faire commands

   Por. My people doe already know my minde,
And will acknowledge you and Iessica
In place of Lord Bassanio and my selfe.
So far you well till we shall meete againe

   Lor. Faire thoughts & happy houres attend on you

   Iessi. I wish your Ladiship all hearts content

   Por. I thanke you for your wish, and am well pleas'd
To wish it backe on you: faryouwell Iessica.

Exeunt.

Now Balthaser, as I haue euer found thee honest true,
So let me finde thee still: take this same letter,
And vse thou all the indeauor of a man,
In speed to Mantua, see thou render this
Into my cosins hand, Doctor Belario,
And looke what notes and garments he doth giue thee,
Bring them I pray thee with imagin'd speed
Vnto the Tranect, to the common Ferrie
Which trades to Venice; waste no time in words,
But get thee gone, I shall be there before thee

   Balth. Madam, I goe with all conuenient speed

   Por. Come on Nerissa, I haue worke in hand
That you yet know not of; wee'll see our husbands
Before they thinke of vs?
  Nerrissa. Shall they see vs?
  Portia. They shall Nerrissa: but in such a habit,
That they shall thinke we are accomplished
With that we lacke; Ile hold thee any wager
When we are both accoutered like yong men,
Ile proue the prettier fellow of the two,
And weare my dagger with the brauer grace,
And speake betweene the change of man and boy,
With a reede voyce, and turne two minsing steps
Into a manly stride; and speake of frayes
Like a fine bragging youth: and tell quaint lyes
How honourable Ladies sought my loue,
Which I denying, they fell sicke and died.
I could not doe withall: then Ile repent,
And wish for all that, that I had not kil'd them;
And twentie of these punie lies Ile tell,
That men shall sweare I haue discontinued schoole
Aboue a twelue moneth: I haue within my minde
A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Iacks,
Which I will practise

   Nerris. Why, shall wee turne to men?
  Portia. Fie, what a questions that?
If thou wert nere a lewd interpreter:
But come, Ile tell thee all my whole deuice
When I am in my coach, which stayes for vs
At the Parke gate; and therefore haste away,
For we must measure twentie miles to day.

Exeunt.

Enter Clowne and Iessica.

  Clown. Yes truly; for looke you, the sinnes of the Father
are to be laid vpon the children, therefore I promise
you, I feare you, I was alwaies plaine with you, and so
now I speake my agitation of the matter: therfore be of
good cheere, for truly I thinke you are damn'd, there is
but one hope in it that can doe you anie good, and that is
but a kinde of bastard hope neither

   Iessica. And what hope is that I pray thee?
  Clow. Marrie you may partlie hope that your father
got you not, that you are not the Iewes daughter

   Ies. That were a kinde of bastard hope indeed, so the
sins of my mother should be visited vpon me

   Clow. Truly then I feare you are damned both by father
and mother: thus when I shun Scilla your father, I
fall into Charibdis your mother; well, you are gone both
waies

   Ies. I shall be sau'd by my husband, he hath made me
a Christian

   Clow. Truly the more to blame he, we were Christians
enow before, e'ne as many as could wel liue one by another:
this making of Christians will raise the price of
Hogs, if wee grow all to be porke-eaters, wee shall not
shortlie haue a rasher on the coales for money.
Enter Lorenzo.

  Ies. Ile tell my husband Lancelet what you say, heere
he comes

   Loren. I shall grow iealous of you shortly Lancelet,
if you thus get my wife into corners?
  Ies. Nay, you need not feare vs Lorenzo, Launcelet
and I are out, he tells me flatly there is no mercy for mee
in heauen, because I am a Iewes daughter: and hee saies
you are no good member of the common wealth, for
in conuerting Iewes to Christians, you raise the price
of Porke

   Loren. I shall answere that better to the Commonwealth,
than you can the getting vp of the Negroes bellie:
the Moore is with childe by you Launcelet?
  Clow. It is much that the Moore should be more then
reason: but if she be lesse then an honest woman, shee is
indeed more then I tooke her for

   Loren. How euerie foole can play vpon the word, I
thinke the best grace of witte will shortly turne into silence,
and discourse grow commendable in none onely
but Parrats: goe in sirra, bid them prepare for dinner?
  Clow. That is done sir, they haue all stomacks?
  Loren. Goodly Lord, what a witte-snapper are you,
then bid them prepare dinner

   Clow. That is done to sir, onely couer is the word

   Loren. Will you couer than sir?
  Clow. Not so sir neither, I know my dutie

   Loren. Yet more quarreling with occasion, wilt thou
shew the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant; I pray
thee vnderstand a plaine man in his plaine meaning: goe
to thy fellowes, bid them couer the table, serue in the
meat, and we will come in to dinner

   Clow. For the table sir, it shall be seru'd in, for the
meat sir, it shall bee couered, for your comming in to
dinner sir, why let it be as humors and conceits shall gouerne.

Exit Clowne.

  Lor. O deare discretion, how his words are suted,
The foole hath planted in his memory
An Armie of good words, and I doe know
A many fooles that stand in better place,
Garnisht like him, that for a tricksie word
Defie the matter: how cheer'st thou Iessica,
And now good sweet say thy opinion,
How dost thou like the Lord Bassiano's wife?
  Iessi. Past all expressing, it is very meete
The Lord Bassanio liue an vpright life
For hauing such a blessing in his Lady,
He findes the ioyes of heauen heere on earth,
And if on earth he doe not meane it, it
Is reason he should neuer come to heauen?
Why, if two gods should play some heauenly match,
And on the wager lay two earthly women,
And Portia one: there must be something else
Paund with the other, for the poore rude world
Hath not her fellow

   Loren. Euen such a husband
Hast thou of me, as she is for a wife

   Ies. Nay, but aske my opinion to of that?
  Lor. I will anone, first let vs goe to dinner?
  Ies. Nay, let me praise you while I haue a stomacke?
  Lor. No pray thee, let it serue for table talke,
Then how som ere thou speakst 'mong other things,
I shall digest it?
  Iessi. Well, Ile set you forth.

Exeunt.


Actus Quartus.

Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Anthonio, Bassanio, and
Gratiano

   Duke. What, is Anthonio heere?
  Ant. Ready, so please your grace?
  Duke. I am sorry for thee, thou art come to answere
A stonie aduersary, an inhumane wretch,
Vncapable of pitty, voyd, and empty
From any dram of mercie

   Ant. I haue heard
Your Grace hath tane great paines to qualifie
His rigorous course: but since he stands obdurate,
And that no lawful meanes can carrie me
Out of his enuies reach, I do oppose
My patience to his fury, and am arm'd
To suffer with a quietnesse of spirit,
The very tiranny and rage of his

   Du. Go one and cal the Iew into the Court

   Sal. He is ready at the doore, he comes my Lord.
Enter Shylocke.

  Du. Make roome, and let him stand before our face.
Shylocke the world thinkes, and I thinke so to
That thou but leadest this fashion of thy mallice
To the last houre of act, and then 'tis thought
Thou'lt shew thy mercy and remorse more strange,
Than is thy strange apparant cruelty;
And where thou now exact'st the penalty,
Which is a pound of this poore Merchants flesh,
Thou wilt not onely loose the forfeiture,
But touch'd with humane gentlenesse and loue:
Forgiue a moytie of the principall,
Glancing an eye of pitty on his losses
That haue of late so hudled on his backe,
Enow to presse a royall Merchant downe;
And plucke commiseration of his state
From brassie bosomes, and rough hearts of flints,
From stubborne Turkes and Tarters neuer traind
To offices of tender curtesie,
We all expect a gentle answer Iew?
  Iew. I haue possest your grace of what I purpose,
And by our holy Sabbath haue I sworne
To haue the due and forfeit of my bond.
If you denie it, let the danger light
Vpon your Charter, and your Cities freedome.
You'l aske me why I rather choose to haue
A weight of carrion flesh, then to receiue
Three thousand Ducats? Ile not answer that:
But say it is my humor; Is it answered?
What if my house be troubled with a Rat,
And I be pleas'd to giue ten thousand Ducates
To haue it bain'd? What, are you answer'd yet?
Some men there are loue not a gaping Pigge:
Some that are mad, if they behold a Cat:
And others, when the bag-pipe sings i'th nose,
Cannot containe their Vrine for affection.
Masters of passion swayes it to the moode
Of what it likes or loaths, now for your answer:
As there is no firme reason to be rendred
Why he cannot abide a gaping Pigge?
Why he a harmlesse necessarie Cat?
Why he a woollen bag-pipe: but of force
Must yeeld to such ineuitable shame,
As to offend himselfe being offended:
So can I giue no reason, nor I will not,
More then a lodg'd hate, and a certaine loathing
I beare Anthonio, that I follow thus
A loosing suite against him? Are you answered?
  Bass. This is no answer thou vnfeeling man,
To excuse the currant of thy cruelty

   Iew. I am not bound to please thee with my answer

   Bass. Do all men kil the things they do not loue?
  Iew. Hates any man the thing he would not kill?
  Bass. Euerie offence is not a hate at first

   Iew. What wouldst thou haue a Serpent sting thee
twice?
  Ant. I pray you thinke you question with the Iew:
You may as well go stand vpon the beach,
And bid the maine flood baite his vsuall height,
Or euen as well vse question with the Wolfe,
The Ewe bleate for the Lambe:
You may as well forbid the Mountaine Pines
To wagge their high tops, and to make no noise
When they are fretted with the gusts of heauen:
You may as well do any thing most hard,
As seeke to soften that, then which what harder?
His Iewish heart. Therefore I do beseech you
Make no more offers, vse no farther meanes,
But with all briefe and plaine conueniencie
Let me haue iudgement, and the Iew his will

   Bas. For thy three thousand Ducates heere is six

   Iew. If euerie Ducat in sixe thousand Ducates
Were in sixe parts, and euery part a Ducate,
I would not draw them, I would haue my bond?
  Du. How shalt thou hope for mercie, rendring none?
  Iew. What iudgement shall I dread doing no wrong?
You haue among you many a purchast slaue,
Which like your Asses, and your Dogs and Mules,
You vse in abiect and in slauish parts,
Because you bought them. Shall I say to you,
Let them be free, marrie them to your heires?
Why sweate they vnder burthens? Let their beds
Be made as soft as yours: and let their pallats
Be season'd with such Viands: you will answer
The slaues are ours. So do I answer you.
The pound of flesh which I demand of him
Is deerely bought, 'tis mine, and I will haue it.
If you deny me; fie vpon your Law,
There is no force in the decrees of Venice;
I stand for iudgement, answer, Shall I haue it?
  Du. Vpon my power I may dismisse this Court,
Vnlesse Bellario a learned Doctor,
Whom I haue sent for to determine this,
Come heere to day

   Sal. My Lord, heere stayes without
A Messenger with Letters from the Doctor,
New come from Padua

   Du. Bring vs the Letters, Call the Messengers

   Bass. Good cheere Anthonio. What man, corage yet:
The Iew shall haue my flesh, blood, bones, and all,
Ere thou shalt loose for me one drop of blood

   Ant. I am a tainted Weather of the flocke,
Meetest for death, the weakest kinde of fruite
Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me;
You cannot better be employ'd Bassanio,
Then to liue still, and write mine Epitaph.
Enter Nerrissa.

  Du. Came you from Padua from Bellario?
  Ner. From both.
My Lord Bellario greets your Grace

   Bas. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?
  Iew. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrout there

   Gra. Not on thy soale: but on thy soule harsh Iew
Thou mak'st thy knife keene: but no mettall can,
No, not the hangmans Axe beare halfe the keennesse
Of thy sharpe enuy. Can no prayers pierce thee?
  Iew. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make

   Gra. O be thou damn'd, inexecrable dogge,
And for thy life let iustice be accus'd:
Thou almost mak'st me wauer in my faith;
To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
That soules of Animals infuse themselues
Into the trunkes of men. Thy currish spirit
Gouern'd a Wolfe, who hang'd for humane slaughter,
Euen from the gallowes did his fell soule fleet;
And whil'st thou layest in thy vnhallowed dam,
Infus'd it selfe in thee: For thy desires
Are Woluish, bloody, steru'd, and rauenous

   Iew. Till thou canst raile the seale from off my bond
Thou but offend'st thy Lungs to speake so loud:
Repaire thy wit good youth, or it will fall
To endlesse ruine. I stand heere for Law

   Du. This Letter from Bellario doth commend
A yong and Learned Doctor in our Court;
Where is he?
  Ner. He attendeth heere hard by
To know your answer, whether you'l admit him

   Du. With all my heart. Some three or four of you
Go giue him curteous conduct to this place,
Meane time the Court shall heare Bellarioes Letter.
Your Grace shall vnderstand, that at the receite of your
Letter I am very sicke: but in the instant that your messenger
came, in louing visitation, was with me a yong Doctor
of Rome, his name is Balthasar: I acquainted him with
the cause in Controuersie, betweene the Iew and Anthonio
the Merchant: We turn'd ore many Bookes together: hee is
furnished with my opinion, which bettred with his owne learning,
the greatnesse whereof I cannot enough commend, comes
with him at my importunity, to fill vp your Graces request in
my sted. I beseech you, let his lacke of years be no impediment
to let him lacke a reuerend estimation: for I neuer knewe so
yong a body, with so old a head. I leaue him to your gracious
acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation.
Enter Portia for Balthazar.

  Duke. You heare the learn'd Bellario what he writes,
And heere (I take it) is the Doctor come.
Giue me your hand: Came you from old Bellario?
  Por. I did my Lord

   Du. You are welcome: take your place;
Are you acquainted with the difference
That holds this present question in the Court

   Por. I am enformed throughly of the cause.
Which is the Merchant heere? and which the Iew?
  Du. Anthonio and old Shylocke, both stand forth

   Por. Is your name Shylocke?
  Iew. Shylocke is my name

   Por. Of a strange nature is the sute you follow,
Yet in such rule, that the Venetian Law
Cannot impugne you as you do proceed.
You stand within his danger, do you not?
  Ant. I, so he sayes

   Por. Do you confesse the bond?
  Ant. I do

   Por. Then must the Iew be mercifull

   Iew. On what compulsion must I ? Tell me that

   Por. The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle raine from heauen
Vpon the place beneath. It is twice blest,
It blesseth him that giues, and him that takes,
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes
The throned Monarch better then his Crowne.
His Scepter shewes the force of temporall power,
The attribute to awe and Maiestie,
Wherein doth sit the dread and feare of Kings:
But mercy is aboue this sceptred sway,
It is enthroned in the hearts of Kings,
It is an attribute to God himselfe;
And earthly power doth then shew likest Gods
When mercie seasons Iustice. Therefore Iew,
Though Iustice be thy plea, consider this,
That in the course of Iustice, none of vs
Should see saluation: we do pray for mercie,
And that same prayer, doth teach vs all to render
The deeds of mercie. I haue spoke thus much
To mittigate the iustice of thy plea:
Which if thou follow, this strict course of Venice
Must needes giue sentence 'gainst the Merchant there

   Shy. My deeds vpon my head, I craue the Law,
The penaltie and forfeite of my bond

   Por. Is he not able to discharge the money?
  Bas. Yes, heere I tender it for him in the Court,
Yea, twice the summe, if that will not suffice,
I will be bound to pay it ten times ore,
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:
If this will not suffice, it must appeare
That malice beares downe truth. And I beseech you
Wrest once the Law to your authority.
To do a great right, do a little wrong,
And curbe this cruell diuell of his will

   Por. It must not be, there is no power in Venice
Can alter a decree established:
'Twill be recorded for a President,
And many an error by the same example,
Will rush into the state: It cannot be

   Iew. A Daniel come to iudgement, yea a Daniel.
O wise young Iudge, how do I honour thee

   Por. I pray you let me looke vpon the bond

   Iew. Heere 'tis most reuerend Doctor, heere it is

   Por. Shylocke, there's thrice thy monie offered thee

   Shy. An oath, an oath, I haue an oath in heauen:
Shall I lay periurie vpon my soule?
No not for Venice

   Por. Why this bond is forfeit,
And lawfully by this the Iew may claime
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
Neerest the Merchants heart; be mercifull,
Take thrice thy money, bid me teare the bond

   Iew. When it is paid according to the tenure.
It doth appeare you are a worthy Iudge:
You know the Law, your exposition
Hath beene most sound. I charge you by the Law,
Whereof you are a well-deseruing pillar,
Proceede to iudgement: By my soule I sweare,
There is no power in the tongue of man
To alter me: I stay heere on my bond

   An. Most heartily I do beseech the Court
To giue the iudgement

   Por. Why then thus it is:
You must prepare your bosome for his knife

   Iew. O noble Iudge, O excellent yong man

   Por. For the intent and purpose of the Law
Hath full relation to the penaltie,
Which heere appeareth due vpon the bond

   Iew. 'Tis verie true: O wise and vpright Iudge,
How much more elder art thou then thy lookes?
  Por. Therefore lay bare your bosome

   Iew. I, his brest,
So sayes the bond, doth it not noble Iudge?
Neerest his heart, those are the very words

   Por. It is so: Are there ballance heere to weigh the
flesh?
  Iew. I haue them ready

   Por. Haue by some Surgeon Shylock on your charge
To stop his wounds, least he should bleede to death

   Iew. It is not nominated in the bond?
  Por. It is not so exprest: but what of that?
'Twere good you do so much for charitie

   Iew. I cannot finde it, 'tis not in the bond

   Por. Come Merchant, haue you any thing to say?
  Ant. But little: I am arm'd and well prepar'd.
Giue me your hand Bassanio, fare you well.
Greeue not that I am falne to this for you:
For heerein fortune shewes her selfe more kinde
Then is her custome. It is still her vse
To let the wretched man out-liue his wealth,
To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow
An age of pouerty. From which lingring penance
Of such miserie, doth she cut me off:
Commend me to your honourable Wife,
Tell her the processe of Anthonio's end:
Say how I lou'd you; speake me faire in death:
And when the tale is told, bid her be iudge,
Whether Bassanio had not once a Loue:
Repent not you that you shall loose your friend,
And he repents not that he payes your debt.
For if the Iew do cut but deepe enough,
Ile pay it instantly, with all my heart

   Bas. Anthonio, I am married to a wife,
Which is as deere to me as life it selfe,
But life it selfe, my wife, and all the world,
Are not with me esteem'd aboue thy life.
I would loose all, I sacrifice them all
Heere to this deuill, to deliuer you

   Por. Your wife would giue you little thanks for that
If she were by to heare you make the offer

   Gra. I haue a wife whom I protest I loue,
I would she were in heauen, so she could
Intreat some power to change this currish Iew

   Ner. 'Tis well you offer it behinde her backe,
The wish would make else an vnquiet house

   Iew. These be the Christian husbands: I haue a daughter
Would any of the stocke of Barrabas
Had beene her husband, rather then a Christian.
We trifle time, I pray thee pursue sentence

   Por. A pound of that same marchants flesh is thine,
The Court awards it, and the law doth giue it

   Iew. Most rightfull Iudge

   Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast,
The Law allowes it, and the Court awards it

   Iew. Most learned Iudge, a sentence, come prepare

   Por. Tarry a little, there is something else,
This bond doth giue thee heere no iot of bloud,
The words expresly are a pound of flesh:
Then take thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh,
But in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
One drop of Christian bloud, thy lands and goods
Are by the Lawes of Venice confiscate
Vnto the state of Venice

   Gra. O vpright Iudge,
Marke Iew, o learned Iudge

   Shy. Is that the law?
  Por. Thy selfe shalt see the Act:
For as thou vrgest iustice, be assur'd
Thou shalt haue iustice more then thou desirest

   Gra. O learned Iudge, mark Iew, a learned Iudge

   Iew. I take this offer then, pay the bond thrice,
And let the Christian goe

   Bass. Heere is the money

   Por. Soft, the Iew shall haue all iustice, soft, no haste,
He shall haue nothing but the penalty

   Gra. O Iew, an vpright Iudge, a learned Iudge

   Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh,
Shed thou no bloud, nor cut thou lesse nor more
But iust a pound of flesh: if thou tak'st more
Or lesse then a iust pound, be it so much
As makes it light or heauy in the substance,
Or the deuision of the twentieth part
Of one poore scruple, nay if the scale doe turne
But in the estimation of a hayre,
Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate

   Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel Iew,
Now infidell I haue thee on the hip

   Por. Why doth the Iew pause, take thy forfeiture

   Shy. Giue me my principall, and let me goe

   Bass. I haue it ready for thee, heere it is

   Por. He hath refus'd it in the open Court,
He shall haue meerly iustice and his bond

   Gra. A Daniel still say I, a second Daniel,
I thanke thee Iew for teaching me that word

   Shy. Shall I not haue barely my principall?
  Por. Thou shalt haue nothing but the forfeiture,
To be taken so at thy perill Iew

   Shy. Why then the Deuill giue him good of it:
Ile stay no longer question

   Por. Tarry Iew,
The Law hath yet another hold on you.
It is enacted in the Lawes of Venice,
If it be proued against an Alien,
That by direct, or indirect attempts
He seeke the life of any Citizen,
The party gainst the which he doth contriue,
Shall seaze one halfe his goods, the other halfe
Comes to the priuie coffer of the State,
And the offenders life lies in the mercy
Of the Duke onely, gainst all other voice.
In which predicament I say thou standst:
For it appeares by manifest proceeding,
That indirectly, and directly to,
Thou hast contriu'd against the very life
Of the defendant: and thou hast incur'd
The danger formerly by me rehearst.
Downe therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke

   Gra. Beg that thou maist haue leaue to hang thy selfe,
And yet thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
Thou hast not left the value of a cord,
Therefore thou must be hang'd at the states charge

   Duk. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit,
I pardon thee thy life before thou aske it:
For halfe thy wealth, it is Anthonio's
The other halfe comes to the generall state,
Which humblenesse may driue vnto a fine

   Por. I for the state, not for Anthonio

   Shy. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that,
You take my house, when you do take the prop
That doth sustaine my house: you take my life
When you doe take the meanes whereby I liue

   Por. What mercy can you render him Anthonio?
  Gra. A halter gratis, nothing else for Gods sake

   Ant. So please my Lord the Duke, and all the Court
To quit the fine for one halfe of his goods,
I am content: so he will let me haue
The other halfe in vse, to render it
Vpon his death, vnto the Gentleman
That lately stole his daughter.
Two things prouided more, that for this fauour
He presently become a Christian:
The other, that he doe record a gift
Heere in the Court of all he dies possest
Vnto his sonne Lorenzo, and his daughter

   Duk. He shall doe this, or else I doe recant
The pardon that I late pronounced heere

   Por. Art thou contented Iew? what dost thou say?
  Shy. I am content

   Por. Clarke, draw a deed of gift

   Shy. I pray you giue me leaue to goe from hence,
I am not well, send the deed after me,
And I will signe it

   Duke. Get thee gone, but doe it

   Gra. In christning thou shalt haue two godfathers,
Had I been iudge, thou shouldst haue had ten more,
To bring thee to the gallowes, not to the font.
Enter.

  Du. Sir I intreat you with me home to dinner

   Por. I humbly doe desire your Grace of pardon,
I must away this night toward Padua,
And it is meete I presently set forth

   Duk. I am sorry that your leysure serues you not:
Anthonio, gratifie this gentleman,
For in my minde you are much bound to him.

Exit Duke and his traine.

  Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
Haue by your wisedome beene this day acquitted
Of greeuous penalties, in lieu whereof,
Three thousand Ducats due vnto the Iew
We freely cope your curteous paines withall

   An. And stand indebted ouer and aboue
In loue and seruice to you euermore

   Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied,
And I deliuering you, am satisfied,
And therein doe account my selfe well paid,
My minde was neuer yet more mercinarie.
I pray you know me when we meete againe,
I wish you well, and so I take my leaue

   Bass. Deare sir, of force I must attempt you further,
Take some remembrance of vs as a tribute,
Not as fee: grant me two things, I pray you
Not to denie me, and to pardon me

   Por. You presse mee farre, and therefore I will yeeld,
Giue me your gloues, Ile weare them for your sake,
And for your loue Ile take this ring from you,
Doe not draw backe your hand, ile take no more,
And you in loue shall not deny me this?
  Bass. This ring good sir, alas it is a trifle,
I will not shame my selfe to giue you this

   Por. I wil haue nothing else but onely this,
And now methinkes I haue a minde to it

   Bas. There's more depends on this then on the valew,
The dearest ring in Venice will I giue you,
And finde it out by proclamation,
Onely for this I pray you pardon me

   Por. I see sir you are liberall in offers,
You taught me first to beg, and now me thinkes
You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd

   Bas. Good sir, this ring was giuen me by my wife,
And when she put it on, she made me vow
That I should neither sell, nor giue, nor lose it

   Por. That scuse serues many men to saue their gifts,
And if your wife be not a mad woman,
And know how well I haue deseru'd this ring,
Shee would not hold out enemy for euer
For giuing it to me: well, peace be with you.

Exeunt.

  Ant. My L[ord]. Bassanio, let him haue the ring,
Let his deseruings and my loue withall
Be valued against your wiues commandement

   Bass. Goe Gratiano, run and ouer-take him,
Giue him the ring, and bring him if thou canst
Vnto Anthonios house, away, make haste.

Exit Grati.

Come, you and I will thither presently,
And in the morning early will we both
Flie toward Belmont, come Anthonio.

Exeunt.

Enter Portia and Nerrissa.

  Por. Enquire the Iewes house out, giue him this deed,
And let him signe it, wee'll away to night,
And be a day before our husbands home:
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.
Enter Gratiano.

  Gra. Faire sir, you are well ore-tane:
My L[ord]. Bassanio vpon more aduice,
Hath sent you heere this ring, and doth intreat
Your company at dinner

   Por. That cannot be;
His ring I doe accept most thankfully,
And so I pray you tell him: furthermore,
I pray you shew my youth old Shylockes house

   Gra. That will I doe

   Ner. Sir, I would speake with you:
Ile see if I can get my husbands ring
Which I did make him sweare to keepe for euer

   Por. Thou maist I warrant, we shal haue old swearing
That they did giue the rings away to men;
But weele out-face them, and out-sweare them to:
Away, make haste, thou know'st where I will tarry

   Ner. Come good sir, will you shew me to this house.

Exeunt.


Actus Quintus.

Enter Lorenzo and Iessica.

  Lor. The moone shines bright. In such a night as this,
When the sweet winde did gently kisse the trees,
And they did make no noyse, in such a night
Troylus me thinkes mounted the Troian walls,
And sigh'd his soule toward the Grecian tents
Where Cressed lay that night

   Ies. In such a night
Did Thisbie fearefully ore-trip the dewe,
And saw the Lyons shadow ere himselfe,
And ranne dismayed away

   Loren. In such a night
Stood Dido with a Willow in her hand
Vpon the wilde sea bankes, and waft her Loue
To come againe to Carthage

   Ies. In such a night
Medea gathered the inchanted hearbs
That did renew old Eson

   Loren. In such a night
Did Iessica steale from the wealthy Iewe,
And with an Vnthrift Loue did runne from Venice,
As farre as Belmont

   Ies. In such a night
Did young Lorenzo sweare he lou'd her well,
Stealing her soule with many vowes of faith,
And nere a true one

   Loren. In such a night
Did pretty Iessica (like a little shrow)
Slander her Loue, and he forgaue it her

   Iessi. I would out-night you did no body come:
But harke, I heare the footing of a man.
Enter Messenger.

  Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
  Mes. A friend

   Loren. A friend, what friend? your name I pray you friend?
  Mes. Stephano is my name, and I bring word
My Mistresse will before the breake of day
Be heere at Belmont, she doth stray about
By holy crosses where she kneeles and prayes
For happy wedlocke houres

   Loren. Who comes with her?
  Mes. None but a holy Hermit and her maid:
I pray you is my Master yet return'd?
  Loren. He is not, nor we haue not heard from him,
But goe we in I pray thee Iessica,
And ceremoniously let vs prepare
Some welcome for the Mistresse of the house,
Enter Clowne.

  Clo. Sola, sola: wo ha ho, sola, sola

   Loren. Who calls?
  Clo. Sola, did you see M[aster]. Lorenzo, & M[aster]. Lorenzo,
sola,
  Lor. Leaue hollowing man, heere

   Clo. Sola, where, where?
  Lor. Heere?
  Clo. Tel him ther's a Post come from my Master, with
his horne full of good newes, my Master will be here ere
morning sweete soule

   Loren. Let's in, and there expect their comming.
And yet no matter: why should we goe in?
My friend Stephen, signifie pray you
Within the house, your Mistresse is at hand,
And bring your musique foorth into the ayre.
How sweet the moone-light sleepes vpon this banke,
Heere will we sit, and let the sounds of musicke
Creepe in our eares soft stilnes, and the night
Become the tutches of sweet harmonie:
Sit Iessica, looke how the floore of heauen
Is thicke inlayed with pattens of bright gold,
There's not the smallest orbe which thou beholdst
But in his motion like an Angell sings,
Still quiring to the young eyed Cherubins;
Such harmonie is in immortall soules,
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grosly close in it, we cannot heare it:
Come hoe, and wake Diana with a hymne,
With sweetest tutches pearce your Mistresse eare,
And draw her home with musicke

   Iessi. I am neuer merry when I heare sweet musique.

Play musicke.

  Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentiue:
For doe but note a wilde and wanton heard
Or race of youthful and vnhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their bloud,
If they but heare perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any ayre of musicke touch their eares,
You shall perceiue them make a mutuall stand,
Their sauage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,
By the sweet power of musicke: therefore the Poet
Did faine that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods.
Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But musicke for time doth change his nature,
The man that hath no musicke in himselfe,
Nor is not moued with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoyles,
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections darke as Erobus,
Let no such man be trusted: marke the musicke.
Enter Portia and Nerrissa.

  Por. That light we see is burning in my hall:
How farre that little candell throwes his beames,
So shines a good deed in a naughty world

   Ner. When the moone shone we did not see the candle?
  Por. So doth the greater glory dim the lesse,
A substitute shines brightly as a King
Vntill a King be by, and then his state
Empties it selfe, as doth an inland brooke
Into the maine of waters: musique, harke.

Musicke.

  Ner. It is your musicke Madame of the house

   Por. Nothing is good I see without respect,
Methinkes it sounds much sweeter then by day?
  Ner. Silence bestowes that vertue on it Madam

   Por. The Crow doth sing as sweetly as the Larke
When neither is attended: and I thinke
The Nightingale if she should sing by day
When euery Goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a Musitian then the Wren?
How many things by season, season'd are
To their right praise, and true perfection:
Peace, how the Moone sleepes with Endimion,
And would not be awak'd.

Musicke ceases.

  Lor. That is the voice,
Or I am much deceiu'd of Portia

   Por. He knowes me as the blinde man knowes the
Cuckow by the bad voice?
  Lor. Deere Lady welcome home?
  Por. We haue bene praying for our husbands welfare
Which speed we hope the better for our words,
Are they return'd?
  Lor. Madam, they are not yet:
But there is come a Messenger before
To signifie their comming

   Por. Go in Nerrissa,
Giue order to my seruants, that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence,
Nor you Lorenzo, Iessica nor you.

A Tucket sounds.

  Lor. Your husband is at hand, I heare his Trumpet,
We are no tell-tales Madam, feare you not

   Por. This night methinkes is but the daylight sicke,
It lookes a little paler, 'tis a day,
Such as the day is, when the Sun is hid.
Enter Bassanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their Followers.

  Bas. We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walke in absence of the sunne

   Por. Let me giue light, but let me not be light,
For a light wife doth make a heauie husband,
And neuer be Bassanio so for me,
But God sort all: you are welcome home my Lord

   Bass. I thanke you Madam, giue welcom to my friend
This is the man, this is Anthonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound

   Por. You should in all sence be much bound to him,
For as I heare he was much bound for you

   Anth. No more then I am wel acquitted of

   Por. Sir, you are verie welcome to our house:
It must appeare in other waies then words,
Therefore I scant this breathing curtesie

   Gra. By yonder Moone I sweare you do me wrong,
Infaith I gaue it to the Iudges Clearke,
Would he were gelt that had it for my part,
Since you do take it Loue so much at hart

   Por. A quarrel hoe alreadie, what's the matter?
  Gra. About a hoope of Gold, a paltry Ring
That she did giue me, whose Poesie was
For all the world like Cutlers Poetry
Vpon a knife; Loue mee, and leaue mee not

   Ner. What talke you of the Poesie or the valew:
You swore to me when I did giue it you,
That you would weare it til the houre of death,
And that it should lye with you in your graue,
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should haue beene respectiue and haue kept it.
Gaue it a Iudges Clearke: but wel I know
The Clearke wil nere weare haire on's face that had it

   Gra. He wil, and if he liue to be a man

   Nerrissa. I, if a Woman liue to be a man

   Gra. Now by this hand I gaue it to a youth,
A kinde of boy, a little scrubbed boy,
No higher then thy selfe, the Iudges Clearke,
A prating boy that begg'd it as a Fee,
I could not for my heart deny it him

   Por. You were too blame, I must be plaine with you,
To part so slightly with your wiues first gift,
A thing stucke on with oathes vpon your finger,
And so riueted with faith vnto your flesh.
I gaue my Loue a Ring, and made him sweare
Neuer to part with it, and heere he stands:
I dare be sworne for him, he would not leaue it,
Nor plucke it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now in faith Gratiano,
You giue your wife too vnkinde a cause of greefe,
And 'twere to me I should be mad at it

   Bass. Why I were best to cut my left hand off,
And sweare I lost the Ring defending it

   Gra. My Lord Bassanio gaue his Ring away
Vnto the Iudge that beg'd it, and indeede
Deseru'd it too: and then the Boy his Clearke
That tooke some paines in writing, he begg'd mine,
And neyther man nor master would take ought
But the two Rings

   Por. What Ring gaue you my Lord?
Not that I hope which you receiu'd of me

   Bass. If I could adde a lie vnto a fault,
I would deny it: but you see my finger
Hath not the Ring vpon it, it is gone

   Por. Euen so voide is your false heart of truth.
By heauen I wil nere come in your bed
Vntil I see the Ring

   Ner. Nor I in yours, til I againe see mine

   Bass. Sweet Portia,
If you did know to whom I gaue the Ring,
If you did know for whom I gaue the Ring,
And would conceiue for what I gaue the Ring,
And how vnwillingly I left the Ring,
When nought would be accepted but the Ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure?
  Por. If you had knowne the vertue of the Ring,
Or halfe her worthinesse that gaue the Ring,
Or your owne honour to containe the Ring,
You would not then haue parted with the Ring:
What man is there so much vnreasonable,
If you had pleas'd to haue defended it
With any termes of Zeale: wanted the modestie
To vrge the thing held as a ceremonie:
Nerrissa teaches me what to beleeue,
Ile die for't, but some Woman had the Ring?
  Bass. No by mine honor Madam, by my soule
No Woman had it, but a ciuill Doctor,
Which did refuse three thousand Ducates of me,
And beg'd the Ring; the which I did denie him,
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away:
Euen he that had held vp the verie life
Of my deere friend. What should I say sweete Lady?
I was inforc'd to send it after him,
I was beset with shame and curtesie,
My honor would not let ingratitude
So much besmeare it. Pardon me good Lady,
And by these blessed Candles of the night,
Had you bene there, I thinke you would haue beg'd
The Ring of me, to giue the worthie Doctor?
  Por. Let not that Doctor ere come neere my house,
Since he hath got the iewell that I loued,
And that which you did sweare to keepe for me,
I will become as liberall as you,
Ile not deny him any thing I haue,
No, not my body, nor my husbands bed:
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it.
Lie not a night from home. Watch me like Argos,
If you doe not, if I be left alone,
Now by mine honour which is yet mine owne,
Ile haue the Doctor for my bedfellow

   Nerrissa. And I his Clarke: therefore be well aduis'd
How you doe leaue me to mine owne protection

   Gra. Well, doe you so: let not me take him then,
For if I doe, ile mar the yong Clarks pen

   Ant. I am th' vnhappy subiect of these quarrels

   Por. Sir, grieue not you,
You are welcome notwithstanding

   Bas. Portia, forgiue me this enforced wrong,
And in the hearing of these manie friends
I sweare to thee, euen by thine owne faire eyes
Wherein I see my selfe

   Por. Marke you but that?
In both my eyes he doubly sees himselfe:
In each eye one, sweare by your double selfe,
And there's an oath of credit

   Bas. Nay, but heare me.
Pardon this fault, and by my soule I sweare
I neuer more will breake an oath with thee

   Anth. I once did lend my bodie for thy wealth,
Which but for him that had your husbands ring
Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound againe,
My soule vpon the forfeit, that your Lord
Will neuer more breake faith aduisedlie

   Por. Then you shall be his suretie: giue him this,
And bid him keepe it better then the other

   Ant. Heere Lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring

   Bass. By heauen it is the same I gaue the Doctor

   Por. I had it of him: pardon Bassanio,
For by this ring the Doctor lay with me

   Ner. And pardon me my gentle Gratiano,
For that same scrubbed boy the Doctors Clarke
In liew of this, last night did lye with me

   Gra. Why this is like the mending of high waies
In Sommer, where the waies are faire enough:
What, are we Cuckolds ere we haue deseru'd it

   Por. Speake not so grossely, you are all amaz'd;
Heere is a letter, reade it at your leysure,
It comes from Padua from Bellario,
There you shall finde that Portia was the Doctor,
Nerrissa there her Clarke. Lorenzo heere
Shall witnesse I set forth as soone as you,
And but eu'n now return'd: I haue not yet
Entred my house. Anthonio you are welcome,
And I haue better newes in store for you
Then you expect: vnseale this letter soone,
There you shall finde three of your Argosies
Are richly come to harbour sodainlie.
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter

   Antho. I am dumbe

   Bass. Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not?
  Gra. Were you the Clark that is to make me cuckold

   Ner. I, but the Clark that neuer meanes to doe it,
Vnlesse he liue vntill he be a man

   Bass. (Sweet Doctor) you shall be my bedfellow,
When I am absent, then lie with my wife

   An. (Sweet Ladie) you haue giuen me life & liuing;
For heere I reade for certaine that my ships
Are safelie come to Rode

   Por. How now Lorenzo?
My Clarke hath some good comforts to for you

   Ner. I, and Ile giue them him without a fee.
There doe I giue to you and Iessica
From the rich Iewe, a speciall deed of gift
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of

   Loren. Faire Ladies you drop Manna in the way
Of starued people

   Por. It is almost morning,
And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
Of these euents at full. Let vs goe in,
And charge vs there vpon intergatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully

   Gra. Let it be so, the first intergatory
That my Nerrissa shall be sworne on, is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
Or goe to bed, now being two houres to day,
But were the day come, I should wish it darke,
Till I were couching with the Doctors Clarke.
Well, while I liue, Ile feare no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerrissas ring.

Exeunt.

FINIS. The Merchant of Venice.


As you Like it

Actus primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

  Orlando. As I remember Adam, it was vpon this fashion
bequeathed me by will, but poore a thousand
Crownes, and as thou saist, charged my brother
on his blessing to breed mee well: and
there begins my sadnesse: My brother Iaques he keepes
at schoole, and report speakes goldenly of his profit:
for my part, he keepes me rustically at home, or (to speak
more properly) staies me heere at home vnkept: for call
you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs
not from the stalling of an Oxe? his horses are bred
better, for besides that they are faire with their feeding,
they are taught their mannage, and to that end Riders
deerely hir'd: but I (his brother) gaine nothing vnder
him but growth, for the which his Animals on his
dunghils are as much bound to him as I: besides this nothing
that he so plentifully giues me, the something that
nature gaue mee, his countenance seemes to take from
me: hee lets mee feede with his Hindes, barres mee the
place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my
gentility with my education. This is it Adam that
grieues me, and the spirit of my Father, which I thinke
is within mee, begins to mutinie against this seruitude.
I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise
remedy how to auoid it.
Enter Oliuer.

  Adam. Yonder comes my Master, your brother

   Orlan. Goe a-part Adam, and thou shalt heare how
he will shake me vp

   Oli. Now Sir, what make you heere?
  Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing

   Oli. What mar you then sir?
  Orl. Marry sir, I am helping you to mar that which
God made, a poore vnworthy brother of yours with
idlenesse

   Oliuer. Marry sir be better employed, and be naught
a while

   Orlan. Shall I keepe your hogs, and eat huskes with
them? what prodigall portion haue I spent, that I should
come to such penury?
  Oli. Know you where you are sir?
  Orl. O sir, very well: heere in your Orchard

   Oli. Know you before whom sir?
  Orl. I, better then him I am before knowes mee: I
know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle condition
of bloud you should so know me: the courtesie of
nations allowes you my better, in that you are the first
borne, but the same tradition takes not away my bloud,
were there twenty brothers betwixt vs: I haue as much
of my father in mee, as you, albeit I confesse your comming
before me is neerer to his reuerence

   Oli. What Boy

   Orl. Come, come elder brother, you are too yong in this

   Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me villaine?
  Orl. I am no villaine: I am the yongest sonne of Sir
Rowland de Boys, he was my father, and he is thrice a villaine
that saies such a father begot villaines: wert thou
not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy
throat, till this other had puld out thy tongue for saying
so, thou hast raild on thy selfe

   Adam. Sweet Masters bee patient, for your Fathers
remembrance, be at accord

   Oli. Let me goe I say

   Orl. I will not till I please: you shall heare mee: my
father charg'd you in his will to giue me good education:
you haue train'd me like a pezant, obscuring and
hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the spirit
of my father growes strong in mee, and I will no longer
endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become
a gentleman, or giue mee the poore allottery my
father left me by testament, with that I will goe buy my
fortunes

   Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg when that is spent?
Well sir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with
you: you shall haue some part of your will, I pray you
leaue me

   Orl. I will no further offend you, then becomes mee
for my good

   Oli. Get you with him, you olde dogge

   Adam. Is old dogge my reward: most true, I haue
lost my teeth in your seruice: God be with my olde master,
he would not haue spoke such a word.

Ex. Orl. Ad.

  Oli. Is it euen so, begin you to grow vpon me? I will
physicke your ranckenesse, and yet giue no thousand
crownes neyther: holla Dennis.
Enter Dennis.

  Den. Calls your worship?
  Oli. Was not Charles the Dukes Wrastler heere to
speake with me?
  Den. So please you, he is heere at the doore, and importunes
accesse to you

   Oli. Call him in: 'twill be a good way: and to morrow
the wrastling is.
Enter Charles.

  Cha. Good morrow to your worship

   Oli. Good Mounsier Charles: what's the new newes
at the new Court?
  Charles. There's no newes at the Court Sir, but the
olde newes: that is, the old Duke is banished by his yonger
brother the new Duke, and three or foure louing
Lords haue put themselues into voluntary exile with
him, whose lands and reuenues enrich the new Duke,
therefore he giues them good leaue to wander

   Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind the Dukes daughter bee
banished with her Father?
  Cha. O no; for the Dukes daughter her Cosen so
loues her, being euer from their Cradles bred together,
that hee would haue followed her exile, or haue died to
stay behind her; she is at the Court, and no lesse beloued
of her Vncle, then his owne daughter, and neuer two Ladies
loued as they doe

   Oli. Where will the old Duke liue?
  Cha. They say hee is already in the Forrest of Arden,
and a many merry men with him; and there they liue
like the old Robin Hood of England: they say many yong
Gentlemen flocke to him euery day, and fleet the time
carelesly as they did in the golden world

   Oli. What, you wrastle to morrow before the new
Duke

   Cha. Marry doe I sir: and I came to acquaint you
with a matter: I am giuen sir secretly to vnderstand, that
your yonger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come
in disguis'd against mee to try a fall: to morrow sir I
wrastle for my credit, and hee that escapes me without
some broken limbe, shall acquit him well: your brother
is but young and tender, and for your loue I would bee
loth to foyle him, as I must for my owne honour if hee
come in: therefore out of my loue to you, I came hither
to acquaint you withall, that either you might stay him
from his intendment, or brooke such disgrace well as he
shall runne into, in that it is a thing of his owne search,
and altogether against my will

   Oli. Charles , I thanke thee for thy loue to me, which
thou shalt finde I will most kindly requite: I had my
selfe notice of my Brothers purpose heerein, and haue by
vnder-hand meanes laboured to disswade him from it;
but he is resolute. Ile tell thee Charles, it is the stubbornest
yong fellow of France, full of ambition, an enuious
emulator of euery mans good parts, a secret & villanous
contriuer against mee his naturall brother: therefore vse
thy discretion, I had as liefe thou didst breake his necke
as his finger. And thou wert best looke to't; for if thou
dost him any slight disgrace, or if hee doe not mightilie
grace himselfe on thee, hee will practise against thee by
poyson, entrap thee by some treacherous deuise, and neuer
leaue thee till he hath tane thy life by some indirect
meanes or other: for I assure thee, (and almost with
teares I speake it) there is not one so young, and so villanous
this day liuing. I speake but brotherly of him,
but should I anathomize him to thee, as hee is, I must
blush, and weepe, and thou must looke pale and
wonder

   Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: if hee
come to morrow, Ile giue him his payment: if euer hee
goe alone againe, Ile neuer wrastle for prize more: and
so God keepe your worship.
Enter.

Farewell good Charles. Now will I stirre this Gamester:
I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soule (yet
I know not why) hates nothing more then he: yet hee's
gentle, neuer school'd, and yet learned, full of noble
deuise, of all sorts enchantingly beloued, and indeed
so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my
owne people, who best know him, that I am altogether
misprised: but it shall not be so long, this wrastler shall
cleare all: nothing remaines, but that I kindle the boy
thither, which now Ile goe about.
Enter.


Scoena Secunda.

Enter Rosalind, and Cellia.

  Cel. I pray thee Rosalind, sweet my Coz, be merry

   Ros. Deere Cellia; I show more mirth then I am mistresse
of, and would you yet were merrier: vnlesse you
could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not
learne mee how to remember any extraordinary pleasure

   Cel. Heerein I see thou lou'st mee not with the full
waight that I loue thee; if my Vncle thy banished father
had banished thy Vncle the Duke my Father, so thou
hadst beene still with mee, I could haue taught my loue
to take thy father for mine; so wouldst thou, if the truth
of thy loue to me were so righteously temper'd, as mine
is to thee

   Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate,
to reioyce in yours

   Cel. You know my Father hath no childe, but I, nor
none is like to haue; and truely when he dies, thou shalt
be his heire; for what hee hath taken away from thy father
perforce, I will render thee againe in affection: by
mine honor I will, and when I breake that oath, let mee
turne monster: therefore my sweet Rose, my deare Rose,
be merry

   Ros. From henceforth I will Coz, and deuise sports:
let me see, what thinke you of falling in Loue?
  Cel. Marry I prethee doe, to make sport withall: but
loue no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport neyther,
then with safety of a pure blush, thou maist in honor
come off againe

   Ros. What shall be our sport then?
  Cel. Let vs sit and mocke the good houswife Fortune
from her wheele, that her gifts may henceforth bee
bestowed equally

   Ros. I would wee could doe so: for her benefits are
mightily misplaced, and the bountifull blinde woman
doth most mistake in her gifts to women

   Cel. 'Tis true, for those that she makes faire, she scarce
makes honest, & those that she makes honest, she makes
very illfauouredly

   Ros. Nay now thou goest from Fortunes office to Natures:
Fortune reignes in gifts of the world, not in the
lineaments of Nature.
Enter Clowne.

  Cel. No; when Nature hath made a faire creature,
may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? though nature
hath giuen vs wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune
sent in this foole to cut off the argument?
  Ros. Indeed there is fortune too hard for nature, when
fortune makes natures naturall, the cutter off of natures
witte

   Cel. Peraduenture this is not Fortunes work neither,
but Natures, who perceiueth our naturall wits too dull
to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this Naturall for
our whetstone: for alwaies the dulnesse of the foole, is
the whetstone of the wits. How now Witte, whether
wander you?
  Clow. Mistresse, you must come away to your father

   Cel. Were you made the messenger?
  Clo. No by mine honor, but I was bid to come for you
  Ros. Where learned you that oath foole?
  Clo. Of a certaine Knight, that swore by his Honour
they were good Pan-cakes, and swore by his Honor the
Mustard was naught: Now Ile stand to it, the Pancakes
were naught, and the Mustard was good, and yet was
not the Knight forsworne

   Cel. How proue you that in the great heape of your
knowledge?
  Ros. I marry, now vnmuzzle your wisedome

   Clo. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chinnes,
and sweare by your beards that I am a knaue

   Cel. By our beards (if we had them) thou art

   Clo. By my knauerie (if I had it) then I were: but if
you sweare by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no
more was this knight swearing by his Honor, for he neuer
had anie; or if he had, he had sworne it away, before
euer he saw those Pancakes, or that Mustard

   Cel. Prethee, who is't that thou means't?
  Clo. One that old Fredericke your Father loues

   Ros. My Fathers loue is enough to honor him enough;
speake no more of him, you'l be whipt for taxation one
of these daies

   Clo. The more pittie that fooles may not speak wisely,
what Wisemen do foolishly

   Cel. By my troth thou saiest true: For, since the little
wit that fooles haue was silenced, the little foolerie that
wise men haue makes a great shew; Heere comes Monsieur
the Beu.
Enter le Beau.

  Ros. With his mouth full of newes

   Cel. Which he will put on vs, as Pigeons feed their
young

   Ros. Then shal we be newes-cram'd

   Cel. All the better: we shalbe the more Marketable.
Boon-iour Monsieur le Beu, what's the newes?
  Le Beu. Faire Princesse,
you haue lost much good sport

   Cel. Sport: of what colour?
  Le Beu. What colour Madame? How shall I aunswer
you?
  Ros. As wit and fortune will

   Clo. Or as the destinies decrees

   Cel. Well said, that was laid on with a trowell

   Clo. Nay, if I keepe not my ranke

   Ros. Thou loosest thy old smell

   Le Beu. You amaze me Ladies: I would haue told
you of good wr